#“you better rest all weekend so you’re good to go by monday

[snzluv3r]

being so incredibly sick and not being able to take time off work is actually the most draining thing i have so much guilt about getting other people sick and so much frustration because the entire reason IM sick is because nobody else is allowed to take off work either i’m so sick of this

[mischievousmoony]

𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

⟢ poly!marauders x reader ⊹ 1.5k ⟢ your boys all have their own way of kissing you goodbye in the morning (ft. how each of the boys take their coffee)  ⟢ warnings/tags: reader wears makeup, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Monday mornings are the worst. The adjustment from carefree weekends to the beginning of a long work week is never easy, but at least you have your boyfriends to ease the blow. 

You’ve always been an early riser. Not because you are particularly a morning person, but because you need ample time to adjust from your deep sleep state to full alertness. 

Although, you’re never the first to rise; that’s always James. As soon as the sun is up, it seems that so is he. Sometimes, he even beats the sun to it. 

He does have the earliest start time out of all of you— him being a professional rugby player who’s due at practice as early as seven in the morning— but even if he didn't, you’re sure he would be up anyway. His morning regimen is even longer than yours, but aside from that, he is a true morning person. 

He's good at keeping quiet, though. At least until the rest of the house is awake. You don’t even hear him pad into the kitchen as you’re stuck in a trance-like state, watching your drip coffee maker slowly fill the glass jug with the steamy, black beverage. It’s been five minutes and the steady drip of coffee is hypnotizing to your sleepy mind. 

It’s only when James’ arms snake around your waist that you notice his presence; and you’re not startled at all as James nuzzles his nose into the side of your neck. You’ve come to expect him around this time, it being nearly time for him to leave for the day. 

“G’morning, love,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing a tender kiss there. 

Your hands slip away from the granite countertop where they were waiting and come to rest over his hands that join over your stomach. 

“Good morning, Jamie,” you whisper softly, letting your eyes flutter closed as you feel his warmth behind you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes while you let the coffee machine finish its task. James has always been the touchiest of all the boys, and it almost seems like he can’t start his day properly without a lasting embrace before he leaves. 

When the coffee machine fizzles to a stop, James begins to ease away from you with a sigh, kissing your cheek on his departure. 

“Smells good,” James comments, rummaging through the cabinets to retrieve his travel mug and a porcelain one for you. 

You watch fondly as he pours your coffee first and fixes it the way you like it. He slides the mug down the counter and you gingerly take it into your hands. It’s still too hot to drink but the warm porcelain is always a treat for your skin. 

James prepares his own cup next, complete with milk and plenty of sugar. He has always liked the sweeter things in life, although he doesn’t always indulge himself. But his coffee is the one thing he’ll never skimp sugar on. 

With his coffee in one hand, he takes you by your waist in his other, pulling you a step closer to him. 

“I better go,” he says, a small pout displayed on his lips at the thought of leaving you. 

You nod understandingly and tilt your head up, giving him the access he needs to press his lips to yours. His goodbye kisses are always tender and lingering, him taking his time to savor the moment.

When he does finally pull away, he gives your waist a warning squeeze before the feeling of his lips on yours becomes a memory. Before he completely withdraws, he brushes your noses together, mumbling, “Miss you already.” 

“See you soon,” you reassure him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, eyes twinkling with warmth as he makes his departure. 

A content sigh leaves your lips as you pull a mug that matches your own from the cabinet. After filling it to the brim with black coffee, you take it and yours to the table. 

You take a sip of your coffee as you settle into your chair, humming happily and thinking of James fondly for making you the perfect cup. 

It’s only a few minutes later when Remus joins you, settling into the seat next to you. 

“Good morning, darling.”

“Morning, Rem,” you say, smiling happily as you watch him take his seat.

Remus returns your smile, taking the mug from the table with gratitude as he thanks you before taking a long sip of the dark beverage. 

Remus always likes to spend a little time with you in the morning before he leaves for work, which sparked this tradition of enjoying your coffee together. Sometimes you have a conversation, but Mondays mornings are usually spent in a comfortable silence. Still, Remus makes his presence known with a hand on your thigh under the table, tracing circles into your skin with his thumb. 

When you and Remus finish your coffees, you take the mugs to be rinsed in the sink. At the same time, Sirius bounds into the kitchen with purpose— always the last to rise even though he has to be the second out the door. 

“Good morning, my loves,” he says, his voice ringing out with the exuberance of midday, despite the early hour.

You and Remus greet him as he beelines for the coffee pot. His own travel mug is swiftly retrieved and he doesn’t waste any time before pouring the last of the coffee into his cup. 

Every morning, Sirius always tries a sip of the coffee the way Remus likes it as if one day his perspective will be changed. But it always ends with him wrinkling his nose and curbing the bitterness with more milk than there was originally coffee in his cup. 

He takes another sip and hums, “Much better.” 

Remus chuckles at Sirius’ antics, never understanding why he doesn’t just make the coffee he likes in the first place. His laughter draws Sirius’ attention, and you watch as he approaches Remus with haste. 

Sirius rounds the table to settle behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he bends down and begins leaving sloppy kisses to his neck and jawline. 

“Something funny?” he asks between kisses. 

"No," Remus denies, turning his head to catch one of Sirius' kisses with his lips. "Course not," he adds, his words slightly mumbled before Sirius moves a hand to the back of his head, deepening the kiss.

You lean against the sink, watching the interaction between your boyfriends adoringly. Sirius' eyes flutter open, feeling your eyes on them. He smirks into the kiss with Remus as your eyes meet, savoring the moment for a little longer before he breaks it.

After he ruffles Remus' hair in parting, he saunters over to your with a hungry look in his eyes. His hands come down on your sides firmly when he reaches you, pulling you in until you're standing hip to hip. Sirius is touchy too, but in a different way than James.

"Thanks for brewing the coffee, beautiful," he says coolly, a certain level of charm always present in his voice as if he's still trying to impress you after all this time.

He expresses his gratitude by capturing your lips in an intimate kiss. His hands slide around your body, settling on your lower back for leverage as he pushes you impossibly closer. Sirius' mouth moves against yours hungrily, his hands roaming your body still, traveling lower.

You're breathless when he pulls away. "It's seven in the morning," you comment, winded.

Sirius smirks and presses a final peck to your puffy lips.

“A bit past, actually. Which means I’m late,” he says, feigning concern as he glances at the clock over the stove.

He pats your backside before slinking away, retrieving his coffee and wasting no time to make his exit.

“I love you both!” he calls as he makes his way out of the kitchen, and you and Remus shout your affections back in response as he disappears from view.

The remaining two of you slip back into your own morning routines, finishing getting ready for the work day.

Remus leaves before you too, but first he settles against the edge your vanity to watch you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

When you put your tube of mascara down, Remus gently takes your hand and lifts it to his mouth. He presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ll see you tonight, dove,” he remarks, bending down to kiss the top of your head. He places your hand in your lap to opt for cradling the side of your head, stroking your hair fondly.

“Bye,” you whisper, looking up at him with equal affection.

His face hovers near yours. “I love you,” he says in between pressing kisses to each of your cheeks.

“I love you too.”

With that Remus presses a final peck to your lips and leaves for work.

You’re not too far behind him, locking up the house a mere ten minutes later.

When you arrive at work, beaming and energized, one of your coworkers makes their usual comments.

“You’re awfully cheery. You do know today’s Monday?”

But how could you not be, with the ghost of your boyfriends’ recent affections lingering on your lips.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[agaypanic]

Hi!! I saw you were writing for Rodrick and thought I could give an idea if you would like to write for it! So here's the basis, at Rodricks party (or just a party in general) the reader gets flat out wasted and doesn't realize that Rodrick is their boyfriend and says like 'my boyfriend would beat you up if he found out about this' while Rodrick is trying to take care of them. Preferably feminine or gender neutral pronouns. I hope this made enough sense. Have a great rest of you day :)

Blame it on the Alcohol (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your boyfriend Rodrick tries taking care of you while you’re drunk, and you seem to forget that he’s your boyfriend.

A/N: warning for underage drinking

***

As soon as Rodrick’s parents were out of the house, he knew he was gonna throw a party. He didn’t care that his brother Greg would be there; he’d take care of him later. Maybe make him sleep over at Rowley’s or lock him in his room.

Rodrick threw himself on the couch and called you, wanting you to be the first to show up to his party. Then, after the call, the two of you texted all of your friends to come to Rodrick’s tonight.

A few hours later, the party was in full swing. Rodrick ended up locking Greg in the basement so he could focus on having fun with you without worrying about his brother ruining his party. 

“So, when are your parents coming home?” You asked your boyfriend before taking a sip of your drink. You didn’t really know what was in it; your friend had made it for you, but it was definitely giving you a bit of a buzz.

“Monday or something.” Rodrick shrugged, his arm wrapped around you, keeping you close to him. “We have the whole weekend to ourselves.” He said with a smirk.

“Isn’t Greg here?” 

“Yeah, but I can keep him in the basement.”

“Rodrick…” You pointed to the front door, where you saw Greg’s friend Rowley looking around in wonder. “What’s he doing here?”

Rodrick cursed, his wide eyes accentuated by the eyeliner that you helped him put on before people started coming to the house.

“I’ll be right back.” He said, handing you his red solo cup before racing over to the little redheaded boy and grabbing him by the back of his shirt. You snorted, taking another sip before going to find your friends.

It was a long while before you found Rodrick again. You were close to plastered, hanging onto one of your friends who was definitely more sober than you were. After a brief silence in the house, where apparently Susan had called to check up on Rodrick and Greg, your boyfriend let the boys out of the basement, and the party became livelier than before. You screamed along to music, dancing in a way that looked like uncontrolled thrashing, and drank until your friends decided it was time to cut you off and hand you back to your boyfriend.

“Finally! We’ve been looking for you for, like, forever!” One of your friends said with a giggle as she spotted Rodrick in the kitchen. 

“Who’s he?” You asked, pointing at the boy. He looked at you and then at your friend, growing confused.

“She’s wasted. Good luck.” Then you were pushed into his arms. Luckily, he caught you, or else you probably would’ve stumbled into something.

“Gee, thanks!” He called out to your friend before looking down at you. “Hey babe, feeling okay?”

“Who are you calling ‘babe’?” You asked incredulously. Rodrick snorted.

“Yeah, let’s get you to bed.” 

Luckily for Rodrick, the party was starting to die down a bit. He quickly kicked everyone out of the house, grabbed a bottle of water, and told Greg and Rowley that they could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t bother him before he took you up to his room.

“You better hope my boyfriend doesn’t find out about this.” You said in a bit of a slur as Rodrick sat you on his bed. “He’ll beat you up.”

“Y/n, I am your boyfriend.” Rodrick snorted, and you furiously shook your head.

“Nuh-uh.” You said, leaning back on your elbows. “My boyfriend’s prettier.”

Rodrick felt jealous for a minute before remembering that he was being jealous of himself.

“Oh really?” 

You nodded, watching Rodrick pull out a shirt from his dresser.

“He’s in a band.” You said with a smile before seeing the shirt’s design. You gasped, pointing at it with a grin. “That’s his band!”

“Yeah?” Rodrick asked, mirroring your enthusiasm. He figured it was better to play along by acting like he wasn’t your boyfriend right now. “I’m a big fan.”

“Well, I’m a bigger fan.” You smirked, flopping back onto the bed. You stretched your limbs, feeling fuzzy and warm all over. “I’m tired.” You said with a sigh.

Rodrick figured now would be the best time to get you changed. He pulled you back into a sitting position and held the shirt in front of you.

“Wanna put this on?” He asked in a tone that one would use with a baby. Seeing the name of your boyfriend’s band on the shirt, you nodded and snatched it from his hands. Rodrick turned around as you got changed, throwing you some shorts from one of the last times that you stayed over. 

By the time Rodrick was changed into his own pajamas and had turned around, you were sprawled out on his bed, the clothes you were previously wearing scattered around you.

Letting out a small laugh, Rodrick gathered your stuff into a small pile. Then he gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to the head of the bed. Rodrick opened up the water bottle he brought up and nudged you awake.

“Drink this.” Your eyes opened the slightest bit to see the bottle, which you grabbed and chugged. Rodrick’s eyes widened at the speed at which you drank, the bottle being emptied in just a couple of seconds.

“Thanks.” You say, crushing the plastic bottle and giving it back to Rodrick, who just tossed it over his shoulder. “You know, you’re really nice.” You grabbed one of Rodrick’s pillows, clutching it close to you and smushing your cheek against it. “But don’t try anything, because my boyfriend will kick your ass.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Rodrick laughed, brushing some stray hair out of your face. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight.” You yawned, quickly falling into a deep sleep. When he knew you weren’t going to wake up, Rodrick laid back and closed his eyes, staying close to you as he fell asleep.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Distracted (Kate Stewart x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You get horribly distracted around Kate leading you to agree to do something that may just make the entire thing worse.

Words: 8.5k

Warnings: smut, fake married, one bed trope, oral sex, boss/employee relationship, swearing, gross middle aged men

“Are you listening?”

“Hm?”

You looked up, finding dark eyes resting on you, a frown pulling down the corners of a mouth that had no right to look that good while annoyed with you. Kate Stewart, sitting across from you, lent back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Which only made the listening thing more difficult when temptation was pushed up in a very pleasing way. 

“You’re not,” Kate said. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked. 

“You’re not listening at all,” she said. 

It was with great effort that you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Her lips were pursed and you sighed, slumping in your seat. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, “you’re usually much better at pretending like you’re listening.”

A small chuckle reverberated in your chest but all you could do was shake your head. You couldn’t tell her the exact issue because then she’d know the exact issue. Which was you finding her incredibly distracting. Because she was incredibly gorgeous. And you wanted to put your mouth on her. All of her. 

“I guess I’m just tired,” you said, “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.”

Mostly because any time you closed your eyes you saw her. Usually doing things that were not appropriate to say out loud in the workplace. Especially to the boss. Especially when it was about the boss. And your fantasies about her. 

“You should talk to medical about that,” she said. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you replied with a shrug. 

“If it’s affecting your work, you should have that checked out,” she said. 

She looked down to the tablet in front of her. A lock of blonde hair swung forward and you clenched your fingers to keep from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear again. You squeezed your eyes closed and tilted your chin down, pushing the impulse down as far as it would go. 

“So we’ll be leaving on Friday,” she said. 

“Leaving?” You really wished you’d been listening. 

“For Scotland. We’ll be gone for the weekend. Pack warm,” she said, glancing up at you. 

“Because we’ll be… doing… important work,” you said, nodding slowly. 

“We’re going undercover to root out the nonhuman at this event,” she said, “they don’t know we’ve realised they’ve begun impersonating one of the people that will be there. So I’ve accepted the invitation and you’re my plus one.” 

You could only gape at her. 

“You really heard none of that, did you?” The iciness had begun to melt and the amusement was beginning to shine through. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. When you looked back to her, you made a concentrated effort not to look at the tantalising swell of her breasts or the exposed skin at her collarbone. Her lips had begun to lift at the corners and relief was sweet. 

“So the whole weekend?” you asked. 

“Leaving Friday, returning Monday morning,” she confirmed. 

“And I need fancy clothes, right? Formal, rather,” you said when she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Best to be prepared,” she replied. 

“I’m sure I can leave the bikini at home,” you quipped. 

There was a moment when her eyes seemed to darken as they looked at you. You were sure you were seeing something, that it was just a change in the lighting. 

“Perhaps for the best,” was her only reply. 

_____*****_____

Friday afternoon came around far too quickly for your liking. Sitting on a train with Kate was alright. Working on separate things, it was quiet, comfortable, barely different from being in the office with her. The air was warm and when you looked, quite a nice view was going past the window. 

Kate groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples as she flung her tablet down. You glanced up, nudging your open bag of crisps in her direction. She looked at you before taking one, crunching down on the potato. 

“Problem?” you asked. 

“I did not get into this line of work to be dealing with finances,” she said, “I’m not a bloody accountant.” 

“No, you’re better. You’re every job rolled up into one,” you said. 

“Just once I’d like it if someone else could put out the fires,” she said, taking another crisp. 

“Unfortunately we don’t have anyone better,” you replied. 

She sighed and her fingers returned to her temples. You nudged the undrunk cup of tea towards her. The smile she offered you was beleaguered and put upon. You nodded to it and she rolled her eyes, picking it up and pressing it to her lips. You waited until you saw her swallow, throat bobbing in a way that made you want to press your lips to her skin and make her do it again for a completely different reason. 

“You need to stay hydrated,” you said, “and not just drink coffee all day.”

“You’re not my doctor,” she said. 

“But I know you well enough to know you haven’t had any water today,” you replied, “or enough sleep I’d imagine.”

“Speaking of sleep,” she said, leaning forward, chin resting in interlocking fingers, “you seem more alert today.”

“Oh?” You weren’t sure where she was going. 

“You’ve been sleeping better, then?”

“Oh.” You hadn’t, “I suppose.”

You’d been making a more concentrated effort to not be caught daydreaming about her. Certainly not in front of her. You didn’t need her to look into it more or force you to talk to one of the doctors when you knew the issue. And you certainly had no interest in explaining the issue. 

You thought you’d rather let the world swallow you up than do that. 

“Are you going to tell me this fabulous secret to getting more sleep?” she asked, snagging another one of your crisps. 

“Tire yourself out,” you said, thinking about how you usually helped yourself get to sleep at night. All that fantasising had to come in useful eventually. 

“And how would you suggest I do that?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Well, what do you do?” she asked. 

Your cheeks heated and you blinked at her, mouth falling open. There was no way to answer that appropriately. She waited patiently before she seemed to notice she wasn’t getting an answer. Her eyes slipped down your body before her tongue dragged over her lower lip. 

“I see,” she said, voice lower than usual. 

“I’m not suggesting you… it’s not… you do?” You weren’t even sure what you were saying at that point. 

“I think I do,” she said, leaning back in her chair, bringing the cup of tea to her smirking lips. 

“Right well, I’m going to go… get you some water,” you said, fleeing the scene. 

When you returned she said nothing more about the conversation you’d been having, squinting down at the tablet. She took the water from you with a perfunctory thank you before she fumbled in her bag. Dark framed glasses were placed on her nose and you lost your breath. 

You didn’t bother going back to your report, staring at her instad. You hadn’t seen her in the glasses before, and now you had, you knew they’d be playing a role in your fantasies from now on. You took a deep drink from your own water, knowing you had to look away but not able to. She was entirely too sexy with those heavy frames resting on her face. 

She glanced up, brown eyes finding yours from behind glass. You were quick to look back down at your laptop as if you hadn’t been staring before darting up again. 

“I know. Not one word. Growing older comes with some serious caveats,” she said.

“I like them,” you said, “they suit you.”

“Psh,” she said, flapping her hand at you but you could see the pleased tilt to her smile. 

You continued working in silence until the train pulled to a stop. Rain was lashing the window and it was with difficulty that you navigated your luggage to the front of the station. Kate was holding the umbrella over your head, sheltering you as best she could. 

Holding the door open, the driver UNIT had organised took the bags from you. You slid into the backseat with a sigh, leaning back in the soft leather. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the warmed chair. 

“Tired?” Kate asked. 

“I think it’s better if we don’t start that conversation again,” you said, “or else I’ll be forced to throw myself out of this car while it’s moving.” 

“Point well made,” she said. 

You slipped back into silence, the night pressing in at the window. You could see in the reflection she was also looking out her window, watching the scenery go by. The way she seemed to soften as she thought made you smile. Watching her when she didn’t think she was being watched was one of those things you rarely got to indulge in. You never failed to enjoy it when you could. Unguarded Kate felt like a privilege. 

“Here you are, ma’am,” the driver said, pulling up on a gravelled drive. 

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the door open. 

She held the umbrella above as you grabbed the bags before you looked up. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“What?” she asked. 

“We’re staying in a castle. A literal castle. Kate, this is a castle,” you said, turning to look at her. 

The smile on her face was amused and a tad fond at your wide eyed wonder. Her hand landed on the small of your back, leading you towards the door. 

“Try to look like you belong,” she murmured, leaning closer to you. 

You shivered at her warm breath hitting your skin. She held the door open for you, then shook the rain out of her umbrella. After placing  it in the holder waiting by the door, she swept you to the front desk. 

“Stewart, checking in,” she said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Ah yes, we have you right here Mrs and Mrs Stewart,” she said, tapping at the keyboard of her computer. 

Your cheeks heated and you opened your mouth to correct her. Kate pinched your hip, effectively silencing you. Your mouth shut with a snap, dragging your eyes over to her. She raised her eyebrows at you but you had no way to answer her. 

“Alright, Wesley will show you up to your room,” she said. 

A man had appeared behind you, taking the bags from you. Kate walked beside you up the stairs, her hand close enough to brush against yours. You glanced at her again, finding her already looking at you with a small smile. Wesley stopped outside a door, the key clunking in the lock. 

The door opened onto an expansive suite, rich and luxurious. He put your bags down in the bedroom, lush carpet keeping his footsteps silent. He nodded to the two of you before closing the door. 

“Kate?” you whispered. 

“Sorry about that. They’re very strict about the kind of plus one we can bring to these events,” she said, walking away from you, leaving you gaping in the sitting area. 

“I dunno about this,” you said, following her. 

“You really weren’t listening when I explained this,” she said, ending on a laugh. 

You stopped, realising there was only one bed. A very large, very soft looking bed. But only one. For the both of you. To share. 

Oh no. 

“They think we’re married,” you said, voice unsure and small. 

“Newlyweds, in fact,” she replied over her shoulder, “do you want to shower first?” 

“Uh, no, you go ahead,” you said, “what do you mean they think we’re newlyweds?”

“They didn’t have a wife on file for me. I had to let them know it was a new development,” she said. 

She wandered into what you thought was the bathroom. Her gasp had you rushing in behind her. Crashing into her back, your hands clutched at her hips to keep the two of you upright. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

“Look at that tub. The things I’ll do to that tub,” she all but moaned. 

Your cheeks heated again and you stepped back. 

“I’ll uh, leave you alone with that,” you said. 

“Quite right,” was her response. 

You closed the door on the bedroom, curling up on the sofa, facing an already lit fireplace. You stared into the flames, trying to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t seriously be about to spend the weekend pretending to be your boss’s new wife. Your life had stopped making sense. 

“Alright, you're up.”

You startled, not realising how long you’d been sitting there, trying to wrap your head around your situation. Kate was there in a set of sensible pyjamas, looking much more relaxed than she had all day.  

“Right,” you said. 

Getting up on wobbly knees, you passed her, rifling through your bag to find your own pyjamas. Not sensible, an old pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, you felt a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t thought she’d be seeing them. You might have picked something that made you look a bit better than old clothes. 

You took longer in the bathroom to shower and brush your teeth than was strictly necessary, but you figured you had the right after having this whole thing sprung on you. Gathering your courage, you stepped back into the bathroom. 

The light was soft, a warm glow, the lamps on either side of the bed lit up. Kate was sitting in the bed, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looked over a file in her hands. You froze, not realising that this was something you wanted to see. But now you couldn’t look away. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the right side of the bed,” she said, glancing up at you from over the top of those thick frames. 

“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine,” you replied, finally moving again. 

Climbing into the bed beside her felt odd. Kate was usually so professional, all buttoned up and at a distance. This was so far outside the realms of your understanding you were certain you’d slipped into an alternate timeline. In the bed beside you she was all soft and tired, too domestic for you to be seeing. 

“Tomorrow we have quite a busy day,” she said, plucking the glasses off her face. 

“So we should sleep now,” you said, nodding. 

“Indeed.” Her eyes swept over you for a moment, “but perhaps we don’t engage in our tiring activities to tempt sleep.”

“Okay, I’m ignoring you now,” you said, your embarrassment growing to a point you couldn’t handle anymore. 

You rolled over, her chuckle warming you more than the down quilt you were burying yourself in. Squeezing your eyes closed, you waited for the lights to go out. 

“Goodnight,” Kate whispered across the expanse of the bed before the lights went out. 

It shouldn’t have felt impossible to relax in the bed, given it was big enough to not even notice another person was in it. Kate was so far away from you, you could barely feel her when she shifted on the mattress. On the edge of the bed, trying to give her more room, you held yourself so tight there was no opportunity to fall asleep. 

A warm hand curled around your arm, tugging on you until you rolled onto your back. 

“If you stay over there you’ll fall out,” Kate’s gravelly voice said from across the expanse. 

You let her manoeuvre you into a more comfortable position, closer to her than before but still not close enough to really feel her. Her hand disappeared and you were left alone again. Her soft breaths were the only thing you could hear in the darkness. You tried to match your own breathing to them, hoping it would help you relax. She shifted and you froze. 

This was a terrible idea. 

After hours of doing your best to fall asleep, after what felt like minutes once you were, a strong hand was softly shaking you awake. You blinked into the sunlight, groggy and unsure of yourself. 

“Rise and shine. Breakfast will be served in half an hour.”

You grumbled, pushing yourself up into a seated position, hair a tangle around your face. Kate was standing at the side of the bed, looking down at you, already dressed and looking perfect. You blinked again, rubbing at your eyes, trying to clear away the haze. 

“Right, okay, yes,” you said. 

Pushing the duvet off your legs, you stood, stumbling for a moment before she caught you. You dragged your eyes up to her face, finding her so close. You could feel the curves of her body, the brush of the wool of her jumper, the scent of her perfume clinging to her skin. 

“Careful,” she murmured. 

You jerked out of her hold, stumbling over to your bags again. You didn’t look at her as you scrabbled for clothes. Closing yourself in the bathroom, you took a deep breath, trying to push away the tiredness clawing at your eyes. One weekend, you could get through it. For Kate, you’d do a lot worse. 

“Alright,” you said, exiting the bathroom, “let’s do this thing.”

She raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the sofa. You waited until she shook her head and stood, holding an arm out to shuffle you towards the door. 

“Is this what you’re like before you’ve had your morning coffee?” she asked. 

“I suppose,” you replied, “no one ever really sees it.”

“Lucky me.”

The dining room was a hotbed of old masculine activity. You felt immediately out of place, in your jeans and jumper and non executive position in your organisation. Kate lifted her chin, staring down the room like she was in charge. Her hand settled on the small of your back again, leading you over to an empty table. 

“Coffee?” she asked. 

“You’re a goddess,” you said, sinking down onto the chair she’d held out for you. 

She lingered a moment, looking down at you with a wide eyed gaze. You blinked, staring up at her, waiting for an admonishment. It never came. 

“One cappuccino,” she said, placing a cup down in front of you. 

“I could get used to this treatment,” you said. 

“Kate,” a booming voice interrupted before she could say anything, “there was a rumour going around you might not make it this year.”

“And yet here I am,” she replied, shaking the hand of the middle aged man in a suit that probably cost more than your rent for an entire six months. And you lived in the heart of London. 

“And this must be the new Mrs Stewart,” he said, turning his attention to you. 

You got to your feet, holding a hand out to him. He brought it up to his mouth, lips brushing the skin of the back of your hand. Kate reached out, an arm wrapping around your waist, hand resting on your hip. It was a surprisingly possessive gesture and you were so focused on the warmth of her palm seeping through your layers you missed what he said next. 

“Sorry, she’s a little tired this morning. Unfortunately we didn’t get as much sleep as we would have liked,” Kate said. 

“Ah yes, newlywed bliss. I miss those days,” he said with a sage nod. 

Your cheeks heated again and you couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Kate’s warm chuckle was the only thing keeping you holding it together. Lips pressed to your temple and you startled. 

“Good work, Kate. She’s a beauty,” he said by way of parting. 

She gave you a squeeze before releasing you. You sunk down onto the chair again, wrapping your hands around the warm cup she’d brought you. Sitting across from you, the table was small enough her foot brushed against yours. 

“Sorry about that,” she said. 

“Who was that?” you asked, finally taking a sip of coffee. Of course it was perfect. Of course she’d managed to know your order without being told. Of course she did. 

“Donovan. Head of homeland intelligence. He’s never been best pleased with our interference,” she replied, looking at you over the rim of her own cup. 

“Which explains why he was… flirting. That was what he was doing, right?” you asked.

“His version of it, yes. Bumbling fool that he is,” she said, “I should have warned you. People might use you to try and get the inside scoop on… me, I’m afraid.”

“I think they’re going to be disappointed. I’m a pretty loyal gal,” you said. 

She reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together on top of the table. Your heart skipped a beat and for just a moment it was easy to believe the fiction you’d started. She took another drink from her cup, foot nudging yours under the table. 

“You’ve always been good to me,” she said. 

“It’s pretty easy,” you replied with a small shrug. 

“I’m rather lucky to have you,” she said. 

You looked at her from under lowered lashes, not sure what else to say. Anything more felt like you’d be slipping into dangerous territory where she might work out that your feelings were a bit more than professional. You didn’t want to be reassigned to a new division. 

Breakfast passed with warm looks shared over food and too many introductions with important men and their wives as they tried to sniff out the competition. Kate bestowed smiles on you like they were free and the way she kept finding reasons to touch you was making your head spin. 

And you were no closer to figuring out who the imposter was. 

“Will you be okay on your own?” she asked once breakfast was done and you were about to split off. 

“I’m sure I can manage,” you said, smiling up at her. 

“That’s my girl.”

Her lips brushed your forehead and your breath caught in your chest. She gave your hand a squeeze before leaving you with the wives of the men she was going to investigate. 

“Come on, love, we’ll take care of you.”

An arm threaded through yours, tugging you away from the retreating back of Kate. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before the doors were closed between the two of you. 

“Ah, new love. We promise you’ll survive without her,” Elaine said, leading you into the sitting room. 

“No, I know,” you stumbled over your words, “that’s not…”

“Relish these early days, my dear. Being this smitten won’t last forever and then it will be boring drudgery day in and day out,” she said, steamrolling over your words. 

“And weekends away in Scottish castles,” you said. 

The tittering laughs of the other wives made you look from face to face, trying to work out what was so funny. Elaine tightened her arm around yours, giving you an indulgent smile. 

“I see why she likes you,” she said, “hard as nails that one but I suppose she has to be when she’s in the boy’s club.”

“Really?” No one at work would describe Kate as hard as nails. Kind, compassionate, tough at times but not some kind of steel lady. 

“Oh yes. She holds her own with the men,” one of the other women, Helen, said, settling on an upholstered settee. 

A swell of pride wasn’t what you’d been expecting but the distaste at the assumption she might not be up to it was. Of course Kate could hold her own. She was one of the most capable people you’d ever met. 

“I bet you give her a run for her money,” Elaine said. 

“Oh, I’m not sure-” you tried to say. 

“But then you’re such a pretty young thing I’m sure you have her wrapped around your little finger,” Elaine continued, 

You were not going to like the rest of the day if this was anything to go by. 

After hours of invasive questions you did your best to dodge, you finally managed to get a moment to yourself, slipping away to your room upstairs. You were no closer to figuring out who was the disguised alien and all you felt was sympathy for Kate for dealing with this alone for years. Staring out the window on the expansive grounds, rain lashing at the windows, dark clouds pressing in, you tried to work through anything you might have learnt. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Hello, wife,” you said, turning to look at Kate as she shut the door with her foot. 

“Mm, I could get used to such a warm greeting,” she said, sauntering towards you with one hand in her pocket. 

“Any luck?” you asked. 

“None,” she replied, “you?”

“Well, all the women here seem to think I’m young and pretty enough to have you wrapped around my finger,” you said with a small shrug, “so nothing new.”

Her warm chuckle was throaty, making a shiver go down your spine. If only they knew who was really the one wrapped around a finger. If she asked, you’d impale yourself on the gate out front. Which would be concerning if you really thought about it. 

“The ruse is going well then,” she said, “I spent the morning fielding questions about how I managed to convince you to marry me.”

“Oh, it was definitely the pay rise that came with it,” you said. 

“Undoubtedly,” she chuckled. 

She stood beside you, looking out on the rain. Shoulder to shoulder, you stayed in silence for a moment. 

“These people suck, Kate. I don’t know how you do it,” you said. 

“They don’t teach diplomacy in university but my god, I think they should,” she replied. 

“Sorry,” you said, duly chastised. 

“Oh no, you’re absolutely right. They’re an insufferable lot with too much ego and not enough sense between them to know when to quit,” she said. 

You pressed your lips together trying to keep your laughter in, but once the first giggle slipped past you couldn’t stop. Her own face lit up, a smile spreading, eyes sparkling when she caught your eye. Her shoulder brushed yours as she lent closer, entering into your personal space. 

“There’s no one I’d rather suffer through this weekend with than you,” she said, “you’ll at least see the humour in it when they inevitably put their foot in it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way she was looking at you made you forget that this was all a lie. That you weren’t there with her for a ruse to find an alien. That there was something more between the two of you. You wished there was. 

“Now, chop chop, we need to get dressed for dinner,” she said, breaking the moment. 

“Oh god,” you groaned. 

“Don’t be like that. If you’re lucky, there’ll be dancing.”

That thought didn’t comfort you as you threw on your dress and did your hair all pretty. Kate was gallant enough to let you take the bathroom, giving you the space to panic in peace as you prepared your game face. You weren’t one for fancy dinners and dancing. More like late night take away food and lounging on the sofa. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you took a deep breath. You looked up, finding Kate staring at you, lips parted, something in her gaze that had your skin heating. Something about it was addictive and you wanted more. You always wanted more with her. 

“Did I do okay?” you asked, voice soft, unsure, hand smoothing over the silk of your skirt. 

“Wonderfully. I’ll be the luckiest person in that room tonight,” she said, taking slow sauntering steps towards you. 

Your eyes skated over her body. The suit she was in was tailored to her body and your mouth grew dry. It wasn’t that different from how she usually dressed at work, if only a touch more formal. Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be tantalising, and having the long column of her neck on display like that was making you lose your train of thought. You had to take a deep breath to chase away the thoughts of leaning forward and brushing your lips over her pulse point. 

“Maybe I should make formal wear a requirement for your position,” she said, her eyes sweeping down your body then back up. 

“I think that would be abusing your position of power,” you said, cheeks heating up. 

“Quite right,” she said, stepping back, the familiarity disappearing from her face, “I suppose we should head down to dinner.” 

She held her arm out to you, your hand threading through her elbow. Leading you down the stairs, you could hear music coming from the back of the castle. You took a deep breath and she paused a moment around the corner from the open doors. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied. 

She lingered another moment and you thought she might be about to say something more. But then she put on a pleasant smile and steered you into the ballroom. 

The room was lit by crystal chandeliers, warm light, soft and flattering, beautiful in a way that was hard to replicate for less money. The hardwood floors were polished and at the far end a string quartet were playing lovely music. Waiters were wandering around with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres and the crowd of twenty people made the entire place feel empty and too big for their gathering. 

“This is eerie,” you said. 

“It’s a show of power. ‘Look how much money we have, beg us for some of it to keep your lights on’,” she murmured in your ear, “look suitably impressed. Here comes Donovan.”

“Ladies, you’re the last to arrive to our little gathering,” Donovan said, approaching the two of you. 

“It’s beautiful,” you said, smiling at him. 

“I hear you both cut out of the activities early this afternoon. Enjoying your suite in your newly wedded bliss?” he asked. 

Your stomach roiled at the implication. 

“I’m sure you remember what it’s like having a beautiful new wife,” Kate said, her arm once again curling around your waist. 

“Indeed I do.” His eyes swept over your body and you did not feel the same warmth you had with Kate, “you’re a lucky son of a gun, Stewart.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said. 

She pulled you half a step closer. Your body rested against the length of hers. Her hand rested on your hip and you curled an arm around her waist too. She looked down at you, smiling softly. You found yourself smiling up at her, not able to help yourself when she was looking at you like that. 

“Harold, are you bothering the young people?” 

Elaine slipped her arm through Donovan’s smiling at the two of you. 

“Oh yes, you make a handsome couple,” she said, looking at the two of you. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“It’s nice to see Kate finally settling down again. She’s been alone too long,” she said, “you’ve done her the world of good. Look at that glow.”

Her arm tightened around you, keeping you pressed along the long line of her body. 

“I’m not doing much,” you said. 

“You’re doing more than you know,” Kate murmured, lips brushing your temple. 

“See, Harold, I told you their love was real,” she said, “you should hear how that one talks about Kate.”

“How do you talk about me?” she asked, looking down at you, that twinkle back in her eyes. 

“Like a normal person would,” you said, that sense of embarrassment welling up again. 

“She thinks the world of you,” Elaine said. 

“Quite right,” she said, giving you one of those little smirks that had your heart skipping a beat, “luckily, I feel the same way.”

You felt yourself leaning closer to her, getting lost in her eyes. Soft fingers gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, lingering on your jaw long after it was necessary. Your lips parted, an ache starting in your chest, wanting to lean forward and close the distance, to taste her, to fall into her well of gravity. 

“Oh honey, the dancing has started.”

You blinked, coming back to the moment. Leaning away from her, you took a deep breath, trying to settle your heart. Her gaze lingered, before she turned away, watching the couples begin to dance on the floor. 

“Do you feel like there are less people here than this morning?” you asked, trying to count all the people.

“I think you might be right.” Dark eyes swept over the crowd, assessing the number of people in the ballroom, “that’s concerning.”

“They're not dead, right?” you asked.

“It’s too soon to tell,” she replied, then looked down at you, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

A stab of fear went through you. Sure, you were used to complicated situations, but killer aliens were more the purview of the Doctor than you. Kate’s arm tightened around you again, her steady body keeping you from falling apart in front of everyone. Your unsure smile seemed to amuse her more than worry her.

“Let’s dance,” she said, “see who is still here.”

She swept you onto the floor. Your hand settled on her shoulder, the other clasped in hers. She was perfunctory in her movements, keeping to the beat but not as graceful as you might have once thought. Still, being within the circle of her arms, bodies brushing together, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, it made your heart beat hard.

“At least three of the men are gone,” she said, pulling you closer, lips brushing your ear with each murmured word.

“But you saw them before returning to the room?” you asked.

“Mm,” she hummed, “keep an eye out for someone who is trying to get anyone alone.”

“What if they’re just trying to get off with someone?” you asked.

“Then that will be awkward for a moment but at least they won’t be dead,” she chuckled. 

Her hand was warm as it skimmed over the skin of your back before it settled in the curve of your spine. Your breath caught and her eyes flicked back to you, an eyebrow pulling up. Your cheeks heated and you looked away, focusing on the couples dancing over her shoulder. 

Helen was leaning over Elaine’s shoulder, whispering to her. Elaine stood, shooting a look over at the two of you before a small titter came from their lips. Older lady disapproval. That cut you deep to the core.

“I do look okay, right?” you asked.

“Darling, you’re beautiful,” she said, “dazzling. I doubt these men have seen anything so wonderful in many years. Donovan keeps looking at you like you’re something to eat.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” you said.

“I agree, that went a bit too far. No one needs to know that about Donovan,” she replied, giving you a small smile, “now careful.”

She dipped you, giving you the chance to see the people behind you. Back arched, you waited a moment before she pulled you up again, closer than before, chest to chest. Your curves were melded against hers, and you could feel her breath brushing over the skin of your throat. You shuddered, not able to stop it. She chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through you like a tidal wave. 

“I think you’re better at this than I am,” she said.

“Well, I did take a few years of dance when I was about 10,” you said.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said and you weren’t sure what her tone was but it made your stomach sink.

She twirled you, and in that moment when you couldn’t see her face, you felt a sense of panic. The feeling that she was trying to hide something from you grew, only making you more desperate to see face, to gauge her emotion. But then she pulled you back in, hand on your hip, swaying to the music as she let her forehead fall to rest against yours. 

“May I cut in?” 

You blinked, turning to find Donovan by your side. He was holding a hand out to you, a cocky grin on his face. You opened your mouth to reply, only for Kate to wrap her arm around you, keeping you pressed against her.

“Elaine has run off with Helen and I find myself in need of company,” he said.

“And what will I do without her?” Kate asked.

“I’m sure you can spare her for one dance.” His eyes swept down your body and disgust curdled in your stomach. 

“Darling?”

You looked up into her face, finding something you hadn’t expected to find there. Annoyance and frustration and something you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. 

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“You know I’ll always prefer to be with you,” you replied, really not wanting that man to put his hands on any part of you.

“Correct answer,” she said.

“You have her well trained,” Donovan said, interrupting the moment.

“I’m not sure that’s what-” Kate began to say.

“But you can loan her out to me for one dance, can’t you?” he said, “after all, Elaine seems to have slipped away with Helen to whisper in the corner and I find myself all alone.”

“I’m afraid I still require her,” she said, “I really don’t want to let her go just yet.”

You slid your own arm around Kate’s waist, keeping as close to her as possible. Her chin dipped towards you and it was like Donovan stopped existing. She was the only one that existed and the way she was looking at you made heat spread through you. She was definitely better at this than you. Those heated looks and the possessive touches and the dancing. It was all making your head spin and you had to keep reminding yourself it was all pretend. 

“You never have to,” you whispered.

She drew closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped from you. Her eyes darkened as they darted down to your lips. You lent closer, not able to keep from practically begging her for a kiss. 

The first brush of lips was soft, stealing your breath. You pressed closer, kissing her more firmly, your hand coming up to curl around the back of her neck. The small noise she made as your tongue swept along her lower lip had warmth pooling in your lower stomach. Her arm tightened around you as you melted against her. 

The low wolf whistle interrupted you, thoughts rushing back into your brain after the emptiness her kiss brought. She pulled away from you, a stricken look on her face. Donovan was watching the two of you, looking as if he was enjoying the show more than the two of you had been, which was saying a lot given how you were feeling. She tugged out of your hold.

“I uh… I need a moment,” she said.

She turned on her heels and disappeared through the crowd. All you could do was watch her back as it got further from, disappearing through the doors of the ballroom. 

“It appears as if you’re free for a dance now,” Donovan.

“Not so much,” you said, hiking up the skirt of your dress to chase after Kate. 

Following her footsteps up the stairs, you chased her down the halls until you reached the door to your suite. Catching it before it could close, you slipped inside. Kate was pacing, hands shoved in her pockets, muttering under her breath.

“So,” you said, watching as she froze, “are we going to have to file paperwork with HR now?”

“I must apologise. We never discussed the boundaries of pretending to be in a relationship and I went too far. I would understand if you wanted to make a complaint with our HR department,” she said.

“What?” You’d already lost track of the conversation.

“I took the ruse too far and crossed your personal boundaries. I can only apologise and hope that you can forgive me,” she said.

“I don’t-” 

“If you felt pressured in any way,” she interrupted, “you have my sincere apologies. The thought that I have ruined our working relationship with this brings me great pain. Not that I want to guilt you into dropping the issue.”

You ignored her, striding over. Both hands cupped her cheeks and you pulled her in, kissing her again, muffling the words against your lips. Her hands hovered a moment before they settled on your hips, pulling you closer again. Your tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, wanting more. She groaned, deep in her chest, muffled in your mouth.

Your back hit the wall, pinned between it and her body. Your fingers found their way into her hair, tangling in the soft blonde strands, tugging until she made a small noise in the back of her throat. You arched against her, begging her for more.

Her hands slid up your body, cupping breasts through the silk of your dress. You moaned her name as her lips began to trail down your neck. Your head fell back, giving her the access she wanted. Her tongue ran over your skin, making you gasp, gripping onto her hair tighter. When her teeth sunk in, a groaned curse fell from your lips, arching into her touch, fire coursing through your veins. 

“Fuck, darling,” she moaned against your neck, “what are we doing?”

“What we should have been doing months ago,” you replied.

“Months ago?”

She pulled back, raising an eyebrow at you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, watching how her eyes focused on it. Her thumb brushed against your hardening nipple, your hiss making her smirk down at you.

“Months?” she asked again.

“I might have had a bit of a crush,” you said.

“Around that trip to York to chase the ghost?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you said, focused on the way her thumb was making you feel. 

“That’s about the time you started being so distracted,” she hummed, thoughtful, tortuous in how slow she was touching you.

“I suppose so,” you said, breathless, watching her from under hooded eyes. 

“Now that does explain a lot,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again. 

Her name was muffled against her lips. Fingers scrabbled with the zip of your dress, tugging it down. Sure hands pulled the top of your dress down, dragging it over your arms, leaving you exposed. Her hands found their homes on your breasts again, skin against skin making your head spin. 

You moaned her name, your own fingers making short work of the buttons on her shirt, pushing it from her shoulders. Her mouth was finding a home on your neck as fingers pinched your hardened buds. Your hands were travelling over the skin of her back, warm and soft against your palms and you wanted more. She was murmuring something into your skin, her tongue tasting you. 

“Just to be clear,” you gasped as she rolled one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger, “we’re not pretending anymore, right?”

“Correct,” she said, lips brushing your skin, “this is very, very real.”

“Okay good,” you sighed, pressing closer to her. 

Her hands pushed your dress over your hips, letting it pool at your feet. You kicked it away before she swept you up into her arms. Your legs wrapped around her waist, your fingers tangling in her hair again as you tipped her head up. Leaning down, you kissed her deeply, your tongue in her mouth, tasting her. 

When she placed you down on the side of the bed, she knelt in front of you, looking up at you with smouldering eyes and smirking lips. Her fingers were slow as they unbuckled your heels, fingers brushing over your skin in a way that had you trembling. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” she murmured, “do you really want this?”

“God, yes, Kate. Fuck, if you don’t do this I’m going to be so angry,” you said.

“Well, I can’t have that,” she said.

Her lips skimmed over your calf, teasing you as she took her time to reach the apex of your thighs. Her mouth ghosted over your underwear covered core, humming when she realised you had soaked through them. Your fingers were tangled in her hair, pressing her closer as your legs spread further apart, trying to coax her closer. 

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, slow to drag them down your legs. She paused a moment, her breath ghosting over your heat, making your hips arch off the bed, begging her closer. She chuckled, eyes finding yours. Your mouth opened, ready to admonish her, cut off when her tongue swiped through your folds. 

Your hips rose into her mouth as you fell back on the bed. The groan that fell from your lips felt filthy and her gratified answering groan had you tightening your fingers in her hair. She took her time, exploring you, tasting until you were breathless and begging her for more. She mostly ignored you, teasing you, dark eyes staring up your body as you clutched at your own breast, touching yourself until you were gasping for breath.

Her lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking, her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as she kept you spread out for her. Her name was a chant, a prayer, a moan as you urged her on. Fire was creeping through your veins, burning away the person you were before, leaving you a phoenix to rise from the ashes of your desire. Her tongue was insistent on you, making you gasp, hips rolling against her face as you chased your high. 

It was the vibration of her moan that had a wave of pleasure breaking over you. The cry of her name from your lips was loud to your own ears but it was hard to care when her mouth was still on you and your orgasm was still singing in your veins. 

You tugged on her hair, pulling her up your body, letting her press her lips to your skin along the way before you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. Her hands were sure on your body, holding you tight as she kissed you, humming her approval as your legs curled around her waist.

“Why are you still dressed?” you mumbled against her lips.

“Because you’re not very effective at undressing me,” she replied.

“You distracted me,” you complained, pouting when she drew away from you.

“Hasn’t that been your problem for months now?” The corner of her lips pulled up and you knew she was teasing you but you still wrinkled your nose. 

“Fine, then I won’t undress you as I let you distract me again,” you said, “I won’t even listen to you and just agree with anything you say.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” she murmured, swooping in to kiss you again.

It wasn’t until the morning, wrapped up in her arms, warm body pressed along your spine that you allowed yourself to consider the actual purpose of your trip again. Soft lips trailed over your shoulder, the hands on your body holding you in place against Kate’s body. You hummed, slow to roll over and look at her in the morning light. The light was warm, lighting her up like she was glowing from the inside out. Curling an arm around her neck, you nuzzled against her.

“I could get used to this,” you said.

“If we weren’t here for work, I’d suggest we stay right here,” she said, “all day in bed, nothing to interrupt, just giving in to any impulse we might have.”

“But we have to find an alien that is abducting people,” you said on a sigh.

Her hand skimmed down your body before she sat up, the covers pooling around her waist. Your eyes trailed over her body, considering everything you’d do if you were able to stay in bed all day with her. A very naked Kate Stewart was certainly a nice view to have first thing in the morning. 

“Are you distracted again?” she asked.

“Can you blame me?” you asked, fingertips brushing along her spine.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Only for you,” you groaned when she pulled away.

“Come on,” she said, standing from the bed, “we have an investigation to finish.”

It was during your shower that it hit you. Not even bothering to grab a towel, you rushed back into the bedroom. Kate looked up from where she was bent over, putting on her shoe on the edge of the bed. 

“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay in for the rest of the day,” she said, standing, tongue dragging over her lower lip as her eyes traced over your wet body, “it’s working.”

“It’s Helen,” you gasped, grabbing her forearms.

“I’m not following,” she said, the lascivious look dropping from her face. 

“Helen is the alien,” you said, “she took Elaine off during the ball last night. I saw them talking together. Donovan even told us she’d taken her away into a corner and couldn’t find her afterwards. And she kept trying to convince me to take a walk with her through the rose garden alone. I put her off by talking about you but she kept trying to get me alone.”

“What did you say about me? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” you said, “it’s her.”

She pulled you in, a perfunctory kiss placed on your lips before she turned away, pulling out her mobile phone. You dried off, listening to her call in the rest of the team, explaining your theory to them. She turned, watching as you pulled on your clothes, the appreciative look obvious even from across the room. When she hung up, her eyes were dark and you were breathless. 

“You’re brilliant,” she said, cupping both your cheeks and pulling you in for another kiss. 

You laughed, muffled against her lips as your hands settled on her hips. It was warm and soft and so achingly good you never wanted it to stop. 

“We should be downstairs when the team arrives,” she said, pulling away just enough to speak.

“Fine, but if we’re getting the train back to London I want a private compartment with you,” you said, tangling your fingers through hers.

“You can have whatever you want,” she promised.

Your eyes swept over her body and she chuckled, warm and throaty and you knew she knew exactly what you were thinking. Her arm slipped around your waist, directing you towards the door. You rested your head on her shoulder, snuggling into her side. 

“We are definitely going to have to file paperwork with HR now,” she said.

“Fine, but you should know I’m going to be even more distracted now that I know for certain how good you are in bed,” you said.

“As you should be,” she chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again.

[mynameismckenziemae]

I Love You Two

Part 8

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin.

Summary: Getting time together proves difficult in the aftermath of the mission and you’re getting impatient to have Bradley when he’s back to health. He’s going to have you and more when you tease him on a special night.

Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! M/M kissing/ touching, a little spanking, dirty talk, teasing, etc.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

The rest of the weekend is much of the same; lounging around and making each other feel good without hurting Bradley. They tell you as much as they can about the mission, giving you chills and bringing tears to your eyes at Bradley’s palpable fear as he recalls the near-death experience. Much to your surprise(and delight), Bradley says he and Mav said they were going to sit down and finally talk soon.

The best part is getting to watch Jake and Bradley’s budding relationship from a front-row seat.

“Let me guess,” Bradley says, head in your lap and legs on Jake’s he turns on a football game, “You were the star quarterback, dated the head cheerleader, homecoming king, all that jazz?”

Jake snorts but doesn’t deny it.

“Knew it,” Roo smiles, nudging his stomach with his foot. “So your family doesn’t know you swing both ways then?”

“I barely knew I swing both ways,” he tilts his head as if he’s thinking, eyes still on the TV, “I don’t think my sister, Abby, will be surprised though. She’s very observant,” he laughs, “I wondered more than once if she could read my mind.”

He says it like he’s planning on telling his family about this, making your heart skip a beat.

When you glance down, Bradley’s looking up; thinking the same.

“If…or when my dad finds out,” Jake sighs as he shakes his head, “It’ll just be another thing he’ll be disappointed in me for.”

“What?” Bradley barely cringes as he sits up, the anger overriding any discomfort, “Why-How could your dad ever be disappointed in you?”

Bradley’s concern is endearing, but you hurt for Jake too.

“My old man’s a hardass,” Jake explains, no longer focused on TV but not looking at either of you, “I never did anything right growing up, was never enough. I got good grades but I wasn’t valedictorian; excelled in sports but never won State; worked 2 jobs in high school but he’d worked 3.”

Bradley puts his hand on Jake’s thigh when he pauses, giving him a comforting squeeze as you both wait for him to continue.

“He was better to my sisters, and he really loved my ma, but how he treated me took a toll on their marriage. She left him after I graduated high school,” he blinks back tears as yours fall. “He blames me; told me it was my fault.”

“That’s not true, Jake,” you say softly.

“I know, still fucked me up though, obviously,” his lip quirks ruefully as he looks at Bradley, “It’s why I treated you the way I did when we first met. I saw you weren’t flying to your full potential and I turned into him.”

“You were right though,” Bradley admits, “I wasn’t and I needed the kick in the ass to do better.”

“But I didn’t need to be like him,” Jake says, looking away, ashamed, “I’m sorry, I could’ve-“

“Hey, we’re long past that,” Bradley reaches up and turns Jake’s chin towards his own, “I forgive you. Hell, I forgave you even before you saved my life.”

Jake responds by leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The three of you head to bed not long after. Sleep comes to you easily, more content than ever snuggled between them.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Like always, Monday morning comes too soon.

Though it’s better than normal when you get a kiss from each of them as you see them off, smiling as Bradley gives Jake one and the flush that follows.

Since they both played a large part in the mission, they’re both involved in the huge headache of the investigation that follows, giving you hardly any time together.

There’s no time for sleepovers but you do manage a few lunches and one evening with them both. Bradley is a shameless flirt with Jake and you get a kick out of watching him flush as much as Bradley does.

Jake is cleared from the investigation before Bradley but is sent to the carrier for training with little notice and you don’t even get to say goodbye besides a text.

“Investigation is almost over,” Bradley sighs as he takes a seat across from your desk, setting his lunch down. It’s been almost two weeks since that weekend together.

“Finally,” you mutter, picking at your salad, “can we do something this weekend? Do you know if Jake will be back? I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too,” Bradley nudges your knee with his, “and I know Jake does too. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to see you. But they’re having a celebratory dinner for the squad on Saturday. I was wondering if you’d come as my unofficial date.”

“Unofficial date?”

He smiles when you give him a questioning look, “Well you’ll be Jake’s official date, obviously, since everyone already knows you’re dating,” his brow suddenly furrows, “Not that I don’t want people to know we’re together, I just-“

“I know, Roo,” you press a quick kiss to his cheek, “it’s still new. We’ll tell everyone when we’re ready.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you, or Jake, or what we have.”

“I know you’re not,” you assure him, the yellowing bruise on his chest catching your eye as he nods, “that looks a lot better.”

He looks down, “Oh yeah. I have an appointment with medical, I bet they’ll clear me to fly again. It feels a lot better. Doesn’t hurt unless I touch it.”

“So don’t touch it,” you tease.

“We’ll pick you up around 5 on Saturday then,” Bradley say after he rolls his eyes.

“What should I wear?” You ask, “Is it formal?”

“I’m guessing so,” Bradley shrugs, “we have to wear our dress whites.”

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing them both dressed up.

“Okay,” you reply, trying to think of what’s your in closet.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“What do you think of this one?” You ask, slipping the silky gown over your head before stepping into view of your phone, FaceTiming Nat. “I haven’t worn it yet,” your fingers fiddle with the tag, “I bought it for my ex’s friend’s wedding, but we broke up before we went.”

She gives you a low whistle, “Yep. That’s the one.”

“Yeah?” You ask as you turn to look in the mirror, loving the feel of satin sliding over your skin.

“Yeah,” she confirms, “definitely. Jake’s gonna have trouble keeping his hands off you.”

“It’s perfect then,” you bite your lip, “thanks for the help, Nat.”

“No problem, what shoes are-” she’s interrupted by her doorbell ringing, making her eyes widen, “shit, that’s Bob. I gotta go.”

“Just Bob?” You give her a smile before checking the time, “at almost 10? Kind of late for a social call. Or is it a booty-“

“Bye Liv, see you Saturday if not sooner!” She cuts you off with a grin as the screen goes dark.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Jake let you know he’s back over Saturday around noon.

Jake: I’m back. Holy shit I miss you.

Liv: I miss you too. I can’t wait to see you…especially when you’re all dressed up 😏

Jake: Can’t wait to see you either. I’m so glad you’re coming. Roo said he was going to invite you.

Liv: Yes, as your official date and his unofficial one🙄😂

Jake: 🤷🏼 It doesn’t matter to me as long as we get to go home with you after.

Liv: You will be. I’m not giving either of you an option.

Jake: Yes ma’am 🫡

Jake: I like it when you’re bossy. It’s hot.

Liv: I’ll remember that 😏

Jake: 🥵

Liv: 😘

Liv: I better start getting ready. See you soon.

Jake: Can’t wait.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“Liv?” Jake calls as he shuts the door to your place a few hours later.

“In the bedroom,” you breathe a sigh of relief since you’ve been struggling to reach the zipper, “could you get my…”

You’re lost for words as your eyes meet his in the mirror. He looks so fucking good in all white.

“Wow,” he breathes, his eyes doing a hungry perusal of their own as he approaches, “you look incredible, Liv.”

“So do you,” you smile, turning your head for a kiss. It’s brief yet charged and a promise for what’s to come when the three of you get back tonight.

“Can you get my zipper?” You ask, turning to look at him in the mirror again, “I can’t quite reach it.

“Sure,” he murmurs hotly. Goosebumps follow his calloused fingertips as he trails down your bare back. He pulls the tab away from your skin so as not to catch it and inhales sharply when he reveals your lack of underwear by doing so.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you say with a little pout, “don’t tell Roo.”

“I won’t,” he promises before kissing your bare shoulder, “but he’s going to figure it out. He can’t keep his eyes or his hands off your ass.”

“That’s the plan,” you smile, eyes drifting close at the way his erection nudges your ass.

“Naughty, naughty girl,�� Jake chuckles. He’s teasing but it makes you shiver when he continues, “You’re gonna be in trouble when he finds out.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” you whisper, cheeks heating as you bite your lip.

“Yeah?” Jake meets your eyes in the mirror as he grazes the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth before gently sucking, not hard enough to leave a mark, “That’s…I’d like to see that.”

“Hopefully you can tonight,” you reply, turning your head for a kiss, but the doorbell rings just as your lips touch.

“Will you let him in?” You pull back regretfully, “I’ve got to put my lipstick on yet.”

“Course,” he pats your bottom as he pulls away, adjusting his obvious hard-on before walking out.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Your ears strain to hear what they’re saying as you paint your lips, but it suddenly goes quiet.

“Hey Ro-” you say as you walk out of your bedroom, stopping in your tracks at the sight.

Jake’s up against the closed front door, Bradley crowding him into it, his hat on the floor from Jake’s hands running through his curls.

“God Jake,” Bradley groans, burying his face into Jake's neck as he ruts shamelessly against him. His ass looks so good in those white pants, “look at you. I’m gonna be hard all fucking night.”

“Wait ‘til-oh,” Jake breathes, eyes screwed shut at something Bradley does with his mouth, “wait ‘til you see Liv.”

You decide it’s a good time to make your presence known and clear your throat as you pick up his fallen hat.

They both freeze like kids with their hands in the cookie jar.

Bradley straightens, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“Fuck,” he breathes lowly as he takes his hat back, slowly looking you over, “you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” you smile, having to look away for a moment from his intense, heated look, “so do you.”

“Oh,” he clears his throat as he snaps out of the lust-fueled trance. “I brought flowers.”

“Sunflowers because they’re your favorite,” he says, giving you a small smile as he hands you an assortment of the big yellow flowers from where he’d set them down on the table by the door.

“You remembered,” you murmur.

“How could I forget? I’ve been in love with you for years,” He replies, leaning forward to kiss your cheek to avoid your lipstick.

“Thank you,” you whisper, blinking back tears.

“I also got these for Jake,” he picks up the other bouquet, this one full of coral-ish roses. He blushes adorably as he hands the bouquet to an also pink-faced Jake, “The lady at the flower shop said they signify passion, excitement, and appreciation.”

“I’ve never gotten flowers before,” Jake swallows thickly, obviously touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Roo. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, relaxing a little with Jake’s appreciation.

“I brought cupcakes,” Jake says, nodding to the little box on the counter, “from that little bakery you guys talked about going to when you were kids. Figured we got dig into them when we get back and not wearing all white and a pretty dress.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you laugh, “Thank you, Jake, that was sweet of you.”

“No way, you even got the strawberry kind I talked about,” Bradley’s eyes widen as he opens the box, “and the chocolate peanut butter for Liv.”

“Yeah,” Jake looks down bashfully as he hands his flowers to put in a vase beside yours, “I put it in my phone after you guys were talking about it so I wouldn’t for-“

He cuts off and when you look up from the flowers, you realize because they’re kissing again. But this time, it’s slower, sweeter, more tender than needy like before.

“I haven’t been there since my mom died,” Bradley says when he pulls back, cupping Jake’s jaw and rubbing his thumb softly over his cheek, “thank you.”

Tears return to your eyes and you quickly grab a tissue to dab at your eyes, not wanting your mascara to run. The clock catches your eye as you toss it in the garbage. “We better get going or we’ll be late.”

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“Looks even better in person,” Nat smiles as she looks you over, looking stunning in her dress whites as well.

“Thank you,” You reply, “Look at you, Nat, you look great.”

“Thanks,” she grins.

“Bob thinks so too,” you nod your chin to Bob by the bar, who’s watching her every move.

“Keep that on the down low,” She flushes uncharacteristically, “it’s…I’m not sure what it is yet.”

“I will,” you promise, swirling the straw in the drink Jake brought you before being pulled away by Simpson, along with Bradley. The pair of them with Maverick are talking with RADM Cain, Uncle Ice, and several other big wigs.

Nat excuses herself a few minutes later so you make your way to the bar to order a second drink. Feeling the weight of someone’s eyes, you turn to see Bradley slowly looking you over from head to toe, lingering on your ass. You smile into your drink and make your way to your seat, which is conveniently between Bradley and Jake at the same table with the rest of the squad.

As usual, there’s lots of teasing, lots of laughter, and lots of drinks when in the presence of the group.

When the dinner is nearing the end, the lights dim for speeches and Bradley’s big hand settles on your thigh like he was waiting for it, making you jump. Jake glances your way at the movement, lip quirking when he notices the placement of Bradley’s hand.

Your nipples harden and goosebumps follow as his hand finds the slit by the outside of your thigh, slowly running his calloused fingertips up and down, higher and higher each time. He pauses by the time he gets to your hip, instantly noticing the lack of fabric where your underwear should be.

A decision you’re beginning to regret with the wetness suddenly gathering between your thighs.

“No underwear?” He murmurs, voice low and husky, making you shiver.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

“Did you forget?” His warm breath against your ear makes your eyes flutter closed.

You shake your head again, biting your lip at the way his breath hitches.

“Livi, Livi, Livi,” he sighs softly, sounding disappointed. Yet a quick glance down shows his cock certainly isn’t, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Ruin me,” you whisper hoarsely, finally meeting his lust-blown pupils in the low light, sliding your hand up his thigh and over his rock-hard erection, “you said when you were healed you were going to ruin me. So do it.”

His soft groan is covered by whatever Admiral Simpson just said.

“Now, I’d like to invite Lieutenant Bradshaw, Lieutenant Seresin, and Captain Mitchell to the stage to receive their Distinguished Flying Crosses.”

Bradley’s face, already flushed from arousal, darkens further from the sudden attention. He manages to discreetly adjust himself before rising with Jake to take the stage.

Your heart races in panic as he climbs the stairs but breathe a sigh of relief when he turns; his coat covers his groin. Jake is biting his cheek to not break out into a shit-eating grin.

Simpson begins speaking again and Bradley meets your eyes, the look he gives you dark and full of promise.

He has to look away when you wink.

Bring it on, Roo. Bring it on.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

All of that is put on the back burner though as your boys each are pinned with the Distinguished Flying Cross. Proud tears fill your eyes as they shake RADM Cain’s hand and spill over when Bradley pulls Mav in for a hug.

The rest of the evening passes quickly in a blur of handshakes, smiles, and photographs. The drinks are flowing but you, Jake, and Bradley are all taking it easy in anticipation of your later plans.

Finally, you’re able to sneak out undetected.

You almost think Bradley’s forgotten by the way the conversation flows easily in Jake’s truck on the way back to your apartment. He’s laughing about something Jake says as he helps you out of the truck and you’re fighting the urge to pout as you pull out your keys to unlock the door.

A gasp escapes you when the key slides into the lock; a hand weaves into your hair and tugs your head back, exposing your throat.

“You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” Bradley breathes, nipping your neck. Even through the layers of fabric, it’s obvious how hot and hard he is. “Can’t believe you thought I’d forget almost having my superior officers seeing the hard-on you gave me.”

You whimper as he tightens his hold, almost to the point of pain.

“Answer me,” he growls.

“Uhm,” your mind scrambles to think of what he asked, but then you remember, nodding, “Yeah I-I thought you forgot.”

“Well I haven’t,” he chuckles lowly, “Do you want to give your neighbors a show?” He continues when you shake your head as much as his grip on your hair will allow, “then open the door.”

He crowds you inside as it swings open and you hear Jake take out your keys, setting them on the table before the door closes.

Bradley walks you straight into your bedroom, pinning you against the bed by his hips, rutting his cock into your ass.

“I want you to say ‘red’ if you want me to stop what I’m doing immediately,” he rasps, stepping back to slowly pull down your zipper, “‘Yellow’ if you need me to slow down,” he inhales sharply as the silky material falls to the floor, leaving you bare, “and ‘green’ to keep going.”

“Okay,” you laugh nervously, “should I call you Mr. Grey too?”

Your body jolts forward and you hear the slap before you feel the hot sting on your ass cheek, making you inhale sharply.

“Nah,” Bradley‘s smirk is evident in his voice, and your face suddenly feels as warm as your bottom, “sir is fine.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, hissing when he leaves a matching handprint on your other cheek, gripping the abused flesh harshly.

“Fuck,” Jake curses from somewhere behind you, sounding wrecked already.

“What was that?” Bradley mocks, “didn’t sound like ‘yes sir’ to me.”

You whimper, thighs coated with your arousal.

But when his hand releases your ass presumably to spank you again, you quickly rush out, “Yes sir.”

“‘Atta girl,” he smiles, spanking you again anyway, harder yet, “sit down.”

Your legs are trembling as you turn around to sit. The look in Bradley’s eyes and the way Jake’s palming the front of his pants has you looking at the floor while your thighs rub together.

“I should make you stand in the corner like the naughty little girl you are,” he grips your chin, making you look up at him, “but I’ll be nice and let you watch. This time.”

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

His eyes darken further but he drops his hand and turns to Jake, who’s breathing as hard as you.

“What should I do to her?” He asks, unbuttoning Jake’s jacket and pulling it off before doing the same to his own, hanging them both on the back of the chair, “Hmm? Give her the spanking she doesn’t want but obviously needs?”

The humiliation from his words has you squirming, but you don’t let on; instead scoffing, eyes narrowing as Jake nods.

“I think so too,” Bradley agrees, unbuttoning Jake’s pants before pushing them over his ass and down his legs, letting him step out of them while he takes off his own.

���Then how about I make her watch while I get you off? I’ve been dying to get my mouth on that pretty cock,” Bradley continues, pointedly ignoring you.

“Please,” Jake whines, pulling Bradley in by his dog tags for a kiss. Bradley quickly takes control of it, licking into Jake’s mouth.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth?” Bradley asks when he finally pulls back, “Or do you want to cum inside her?”

“Both,” Jake sighs as Bradley’s hands run down his back before pushing under his boxer-briefs.

“I think we can make that happen. We can both fill her up. Not sure if she’ll get to cum tonight or not” Bradley chuckles, squeezing his bare ass and making him groan.

“You like that?” Bradley coos, kissing along Jake’s nodding jaw as he squeezes again, “God, the things I want to this ass.”

“Like what?” Jake gasps, head falling back as Bradley ravishes his neck.

You bite back a whimper at the sight, leaning back to trail your fingers between your legs and circle your clit.

“The same thing I want to do to Liv’s,” Bradley replies, “spank it, bite it, eat it, fuck it,” he pulls back from Jake’s neck at his shudders to look at him, “Yeah? You want that?”

His words just spur you on. You definitely want it.

“I want it,” Jake answers, “please Roo. I want to do it all with you.”

“Fuck,” Bradley whispers before meeting him again in a deep kiss.

You circle your clit faster as you watch them kiss and touch, pushing their undershirts over their heads, and soon their boxers are gone too. The tiniest whimper leaves you when you fall over the edge right as Jake gets his hand around Bradley’s cock.

Both of their heads whip toward you at the sound, but your eyes fall closed as the pleasure consumes you.

“Go sit down while I take care of this,” you hear Bradley sigh to Jake before giving him a quick kiss.

The way he talks about you like you’re an object has arousal rushing through you again.

Strong hands lift your body before turning you over, and when you open your lust-heavy eyes, you find yourself across Bradley’s knee.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A/N: Phew that was a long one! I’m really sorry to cut it there but it was almost double what I normally write and I wanted to go into Bradey and Jake’s relationship a little more before they get involved more. What did you think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Tagging:

@writtingrose

@blindedbythelightt

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@dizzybee03

@shanimallina87

@lexixstewart

@hookslove1592

@jessicab1991

@livzblogg

@carolina-on-my-mind03

@racerchix21

@mrsbradshaw-seresin01

@sydneejean

@xoxabs88xox

@midnightmagpiemama

@its-the-pilot

@kmc1989

@psuedochakra

@fandomology101

@kneelforloki

@djs8891

@mavrellover91

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@seitmai

[eddiessluttywaist]

as if (part 3)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: reader isn’t keen to playing the usual games between her and eddie after how she felt sunday night, and eddie can’t stand losing her attention. PICK WHAT ENDING YOU WANT AFTER.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 8,704 words (9,272 total words with the fluffy ending, 9,516 total words with the angsty ending)

content/warnings: swearing, SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, breeding kink, mocking, teasing, biting, dacryphilia, groping, pet names (doll face, princess), degradation, some embarrassment, yearning, menophilia, angst :(((, feelings :(((, fluff(what? who said that?). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: thank you for all the love :( i’m truly so surprised and grateful and just super flattered so thank you!! i hope i didn’t fuck this up by giving it crap endings sobs. i saw some were interested in a bit of a better look into eddie’s thoughts/feelings so i hope those lil parts are good! i’m considering the occasional blurb in the future about them tho so 👀 OH ALSO!! the past week or so tumblr had a bug on their app that cut off the ends of my posts >:( so I’d appreciate it if you could look back to double check you caught the full ending so you get the proper experience! okay i’m shutting up now!

part one - part two

*

You weren’t as responsive to his teasing that Monday…or, well… just about the rest of the school week so far, for that matter. You blamed your mood drop on his indifference, and the cramping that you assumed was only from this weekend. You had been sure it was just your cervix making its opinions on Eddie known, but then—after your second sugar pill of the week—you got your period Wednesday night. This culprit seemingly just as likely for that aching in your lower abdomen and back. It was welcome evidence that your birth control was working, but the appreciation for its presence didn’t last long with all the cramping and the bleeding. You hated getting your period, no matter how many older women reminded you of your “connection to Mother Nature” and “the beauty of the womb.” It’s messy and painful and almost always broke out your face.

So no you aren’t playing Eddie’s usual games—instead going silent on him or answering in an empty murmur. Part of you worries it’s going to all build up to one particularly heinous act, but he surprisingly didn’t get worse. He only bothered you with the same old stuff more frequently. By Thursday he’s pestering you constantly with his teasing, and his grabbing, and honestly? Just about every trick in his sick little book which were usually tastefully sprinkled throughout the week.

“So you’re not talking to me? Playing hard to get or somethin’?” He whispers from behind you in the lunch line. You grab a saran-wrapped cookie and put it on your tray.

“What? You on your rag or something?” Eddie scoffs in response to your ever freezing cold shoulder. He’s out in the tundra these past couple of days. You make a face and continue moving through the line.

“Come on… don’t fuck me and forget me, babe. You’ll break this ol’ cynic’s heart and I’ll never recover.” He teases with a wide smile, hand placed over his heart before it drops to settle on the small of your back and gradually travel down to cup your ass. He’s pleasantly surprised that you’re not gently nudging him away like you had the last time he attempted his usual lunchtime groping, but something feels different. He glances down as he flips up your skirt only to reveal small shorts in the same pattern of your dark, plaid skirt. Your worst nightmare is bleeding through a light-colored pair of pants or skirt, so you always wear darker clothes on your period, and you trade skirts for skorts in favor of the added coverage.

“What the fuck is this shit?” He scowls, tugging at one leg of the shorts.

“It’s called a skort. We’ve had this conversation before.” You sigh, thanking the lunch lady as she hands you your tray and eyes the metalhead trailing behind you.

She thinks he resembles an abandoned puppy who grew mean and practiced his bite and his bark just to follow after you with his tail between his legs. If she had any genuine interest in connecting with the student body she fed 5 days out of the week, she might’ve made a playful joke about you having him whipped. But she didn’t care that much.

“I don’t think we have.” He grins, wondering if you even noticed you let yourself talk to him.

“You do it every time I’m on-“ You catch yourself almost admitting you were on your period, which would certainly only pull new harassment from him, so you pretend to correct a simple mistake. “In. Every time I’m in a skort.”

He hums disapprovingly.

“Yeah, well… I…” He trails off as you simply walk away from him to your usual spot in the cafeteria. You don’t bother to stay at his table you two reached just for him to finish making some crude joke before ultimately shooing you away anyway. “Okay… or be a bitch.”

He grumbles that last bit, landing into his usual spot at the head of the table. A few of the other Hellfire members are still staring even when he clearly takes notice.

“Can I help you?” He snaps, everyone who had been staring immediately looking down at their food. He huffs, adjusting his position in the chair to get more comfortable and lets his gaze move over to your table. You’re sat so pretty it’s like your image could actually advertise such a crappy plastic chair. The way your ankles are crossed underneath you, book cracked open on the table with all of your attention on it as you sat with your body leaned into the table. Your food was hardly touched due to a pang of nausea that he was completely unaware of.

“You know if you like her maybe you shouldn’t pick on her so much.”

Eddie grimaces at the comment that’s—in his opinion—beyond a disregard for his rank at this table, icy glare on the curly haired freshman. There are panicked faces and soft muttering around the table showing he isn’t the only one taken aback by this.

“I…” the boy falters, putting the spoonful of pudding he’s about to eat back down. “I just mean if… if you like her. I dunno… you’re kinda mean to her, Eddie.”

He eats his scoop of pudding now, his bold words inspiring the wiry one that always sits next to him. Eddie’s burning glance flits over to him now that he’s speaking, his expression remaining unimpressed with etches of frustration in the shadows of his facial features.

“Yeah, which is actually totally weird cause you’re not like that at all.” The brunet speaks in a rapid ramble like usual. “Like, you took me and Dustin and Lucas under your wing cause we were new and weird and alone and stuff like that—no, I know Lucas has been ditching Hellfire for the jocks, but anyway— you’re always talking back to those asshole jocks—which is totally cool—so I don’t get why you’re not like that with her.”

“I’m sorry, I must be confused.” The man spoke with sarcastic interest, a sinister smile breaking out onto his face. “Are you two talking to me? About something that is, quite frankly, none of your business?”

The two boys look at each other, the nerves shared between them tangible. Eddie raises a brow and tilts his head when they face him again. Still silence. Mike swallows anxiously.

“Well?” He sneers, flicking some of his trail mix at them.

“Sorry, Eddie…” They say in unison as he chews slowly, staring them down. He rolls his eyes as his body slowly relaxes again in his spot and he glances at you again. You were at least breaking off pieces of your cookie now, still reading your book.

“She’s not new or weird or alone anyways. She’s always with the smart kids.” He states, before holding up a hand as his gaze returns to the pair. “Not that I’m inviting you two shitheads to stick your noses in my business.”

The freshmen, along with a few others at the table shift to look over at you. You’re still engrossed in whatever you’re reading and you looked miserable, even if you were enjoying a good book. You look tired.

“Dude, literally no one is interacting with her. There’re the Jacobson twins talking at one end—probably still fighting over what’s the right answer to the equation from algebra class (it’s zero, by the way). Then there’s Richie and Greg from advanced calculus. Some people I don’t know…” Dustin mutters that last part before continuing, “And yes technically speaking there are a few girls sitting with her, but they’re not even talking. They probably don’t even know her.“

Eddie stares him down, the conversation still on you burning away at something inside him. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about you or how lonely you look. He doesn’t want to talk about inviting you over. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about how mean he is to you, cause he has no interest in trying to break down the intricacies of the crossover between bullying you and fucking you. Especially to freshmen.

“Just saying.” Dustin finally sighs in defeat, clearly getting no response from the DM sat at the head of the table. “But seriously, tugging on a girl’s pigtails cause you like her is completely grade school.”

*

Eddie had figured that having sex would change things between you two, but he imagined it changing for the better. Things like fucking you in the janitor’s closet or in the back of his van in the parking lot. Feeling you up between classes. Being so fucking mean to you all day until you were all wet and needy for him by the time that final bell rang.

He certainly didn’t imagine this.

At the start of the school week, Eddie didn’t entirely notice your lack of participation. Just that something felt… off-kilter in your interactions. It had been on Tuesday night that he realized nothing felt right because you weren’t glaring at him or shoving him away or pouting up at him. You didn’t even turn your head when an object was flicked at you, you just kept your eyes on the chalkboard.

Now he isn’t particularly well known for his critical thinking with… well… anything other than music, DND, and—subsequently—the math that came along with both hobbies. And, of course, selling drugs. So it’s somewhat understandable that poor Eds didn’t even realize what caused the imbalance for a whole day or two. Once he realized it though, it only frustrated him further. It irritated him that you weren’t playing the game, and it irritated him that it bothered him so much in the first place.

Why aren’t you snapping back at him? Why are you ignoring him, and if you even do look over: why was it always with a sad glance? Why, when he toyed with your skirt on Monday did you tilt your head to the side and quietly ask him to please leave you alone? When he saw you first thing Monday morning with circles under your eyes that were barely disguised by drug store concealer; Why, when he leaned into you as he passed you in the hall with a quiet “Something keep you up last night?” Did you only give him a passing glance with lips pressed together in what might’ve been an attempt at a small smile just to fall flat with that dull look in your eyes.

Being how he is, his game plan had been to keep bugging you constantly. Wear you down until you were finally glaring or giggling or whining, and everything could be back to the way it was. Maybe you were just suddenly playing hard to get. Being a teasing brat who would eventually have a smirk sneak out so he knew you were toying with him, and he could make you pay for it later. That smirk never quirked up your lip though. You were still such a rainy cloud drifting through the school.

The little twerp got to him at lunch today, too. He wonders now if maybe you were sick of the way he acted, and realized you want deserve someone a little less inclined to pigtail-tugging and a little more open and romantic. But why now? He thought you enjoyed it all. That’s why he wasn’t expelled already. That’s why you fucked him and called him for more. Right? Sitting in his van instead of attending the last class of the day, Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He feels something crucial missing in him at the fact that he’d rather pull teeth than drop down his smug and playful demeanor even for a second and show you that he’s yours.

He noticed you were pretty when you were a sophomore, but not much else. Now in your senior year with him, god—you aren’t even pretty. You’re fucking devastating, and he knows his methods of showing affection aren’t something that will stand the test of time. You’ll grow tired and fuck it, he’d be living up to that Munson name if he has to see you with someone else—probably wind up serving time right alongside Pops after leaving some guy in the hospital. So maybe there were tweaks to be had. Even if he’s bitter and reluctant about it. (And did I mention bitter?)

Eddie pulls his hands away from his face at the faint sound of a bell, letting the side of his head fall against the window with a solid thunk as he awaits the crowds of students rushing out of the school.

*

You’re passing by others on your way out of the building, just as relieved as everyone else to be going home for the day—not that your excitement showed. It’s more of a calm relief to be heading to your room again than everyone else’s bubbly enthusiasm to make plans for the rest of the day. (When they should be getting their assignments done after all it’s not Friday yet, you think, but maybe that’s just because you evidently have no life.)

Making your way through the parking lot, a loud horn makes you jump. Your eyes wild and your heart up in your throat, you look around until you spot Eddie laying on his horn with his tongue partially sticking out off to the side. He lets up the second you lock eyes and laughs.

“Need a ride? Gotta couple of good options.”

You huff, trying to ignore his filthy innuendo and shake your head. He groans, settling his head back against the head rest of his seat while you start walking away.

“What the fuck is your problem? Jesus fucking Christ!”

You keep walking, hearing his car door open and the sound of his sneakers on the pavement. His car buzzes irritably at its door being left open while running, but he doesn’t care. You’re sure he doesn’t care about anything, really. He rests a hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

“’m just not in the mood, Eddie.” You snap the second you’re facing him.

But you’re always in the mood, he wants to argue as if that made a difference right now. He lets out a long breath that puffs out his lips as he decompresses, arm bent up to rub his hand on the back of his neck. It’s evident that he’s not used to this, and doesn’t have a clue how to go about it. You eye him in that moment, waiting for him. Waiting for something that made that ache in your chest dissipate and the hole it leaves be filled with a light warmth. Then you’re ready to give up on waiting for something that clearly wasn’t going to happen when he suddenly dips down and drapes you over his shoulder all in one fluid motion.

“I- Eddie-!“

“I- Eddie- I-” He mimics, clearly out of habit and opens the back door to his van to plop you right on top of a random cushion nestled inside. It looks like it’s just a single couch cushion and you wonder where he got only one. Is it from an old couch that was getting tossed anyways? Did he steal it? Who steals a singular couch cushion from the seat of a sofa? And what was that stain on the corner? You’re shifting away from it as he climbs in after you, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips again until the door is shut and he’s settled against it with a sigh.

“Yoo-hoo.”

“What?”

He scratches his jaw as he looks over at you then points at the stain you were avoiding.

“Yoo-hoo. The drink. That’s what the stain is from.”

“Oh… okay.”

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes going wide as he fights the urge to roll them while he stares up at the ceiling of his vehicle, and then he finally speaks up again.

“Why are you being all…” He gestures his hands out in a odd way, flopping them a bit before settling them on his legs again. He sighs, tilting his head down and looking over at you again. “I don’t fucking know… you’re not being fun this week.”

Your nostrils flare and your brow creases with a pulse of rage at his words.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m not playing your game, Eddie. For your information, yes—as you said so elegantly before— I’m ‘on my rag’ and don’t exactly feel like dealing with you.”

Despite the tone you’re taking with him, a grin is pulling at his face and a few laughs bubble from his chest that were almost like little amused giggles. God, he missed getting you all worked up.

“What? Never got it before?” He suddenly questions.

“I- What?”

He snickers.

“Your rag. The crimson tide. Never ridden the cotton pony before?” He’s having too much fun with this and your face is getting all hot.

“Cause I kinda doubt it. Y’know…” he gestures to your form, “The idea that you haven’t gone through puberty yet sounds fake to me, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well you’ve never acted like this before so unless this is your first week of Carrie...” He hisses an inhale through his teeth.

“My condolences, but look at it this way: You’re finally a woma- hey!” He’s laughing until he’s dodging the random work boot you toss at him—the sight of him scooting away from the projectile actually getting a giggle from you.

“Those ‘r for the garage, doll. Heavy duty shit, can’t be throwing those.” He chastises as he waves the shoe at you, but there’s a weight that’s lifting from him. He got you to just sit and talk to him, and even made you laugh. Even if you’re biting the inside of your cheek now to try and refrain from giving him the satisfaction of your smile. How are things like this right now? Shouldn’t he be bending you over his knee for not acting the way he wanted you to? Shouldn’t he be angry? Shouldn’t he be making you cry?

“I’ve gotten my period before.” You state simply. Eddie puts the boot down, dropping his head back against the interior of his van as he looks at you expectantly.

“Then what? What’s with the bitching and the ignoring and the crybaby shit?” He asks bluntly, making your brow furrow again.

“And not even the good crybaby shit,” he continues in a softer tone as he makes his way over to you, “Where’s my pouty girl, huh? Where’s my brat?”

My. My. It’s making your head swirl, his words and proximity putting up a good fight against this latest impulse to be cold to him. He’s settled in front of you and pulling you forward by your hips.

“Don’t wanna talk about it…” You murmur because he should know. He should’ve automatically known the second he left your room that he fucked up when he didn’t kiss you.

“No? Do I gotta bully it out of you, baby? Should I keep up with what I’ve been doing or are you gonna keep pissing me off with that silent treatment shit if I do?”

Watching your expression, his hands settled on your hips start to massage his fingertips in small circles against your lower back. A sigh falls from your lips before you can even stop it, melting from his touch. He’s massaging that spot that’s been tied up in knots the past couple of days, and taking care of it perfectly. Just when you think he’s suddenly a completely different person he stops the movements entirely. That familiar pout that he loves pulls at your lower lip, clearly disappointed by the loss of his kneading.

“Gonna tell me?” He coos, tilting his head.

Your lips part then close again, faltering on if you should just tell him. He mimics the motion then your pout before grinning at you again. You stay quiet, a new conflict arising inside your head. Should you just tell him and move forward? Should you let him suffer until he figures it out? He deserves to suffer in your book, but who knows how long it would take for him to realize. The man has failed his senior year twice already.

“No? Okay, doll.” He’s separating himself from you now, moving to a corner of his van to start digging through some random stacks and piles there.

He’s going on about how he’d help if he could, but he guessed that won’t happen now. How if only you’d cut lil’ ol’ him a break. His theatrical and bitter words are coated in a soft tone and playful, exaggerated sighs. He’s having all the fun in the world trying to tease you until you just sigh and admit whatever your major malfunction is. It’s lighthearted in comparison to his usual teasing, but even this starts bringing the tears forward.

You hate that he doesn’t know. That it clearly didn’t mean enough for him to notice. You hate that he pulls you in all smooth and sweet to get you intoxicated on him just for him to laugh over it and leave you alone again. You hate how he’s suddenly making you feel cared for just for him to go away again cause he isn’t getting what he wants. Now you’re desperately trying to hide the fact that you’re crying as all of your feelings and aches and pains of this week rush through you.

Sure, he’s seen you cry before but it was never like this. It was teary eyes from frustration or, recently, the occasional sob from how good he made you feel. It’s never been breaking down after a hard week. It’s never sobbing because after all this time the two of you finally cracked, and you’re scared you’re the only one increasingly enchanted every passing second since that first kiss. It was never hiccuping sobs that you were doing your best to push down. Your face is burning, your sight blurry even though tears kept rolling down your cheeks. It’s like there’s a never ending supply to stream down your face and still keep your vision bleary.

“Jus’ sayin’ we could be doing something way more fun right no…w…” He trails off once he finally looks over at you.

He’s holding an unopened pack of cigarettes he had been looking for in his typical mess and pulling out his lighter, but now all his focus is on the way you’re sniffling and shaking. You’re still sat on that cushion, knees up and a hand settled over your mouth with your head turned away from him. A heart-wrenching sob just barely sneaks its way out before you choke it back down. Little huffs are escaping you in a desperate attempt to breathe without letting your need to wail break free. It feels like your lungs are on fire.

“Y/N…” Eddie says in a tender voice that you didn’t think he was even capable of. You shake your head.

“Y/n c’mon…” He tries again with a small, nervous laugh. Nervous you were serious. Nervous that he really made you so upset. Nervous to really show that he cares if he did.

“It’s okay, really-“ Your voice is higher than usual, another heavy breath puffing out before you try to drag it in again just to end up whimpering as another wave of sadness comes over you and you’re too overwhelmed to hold it in. You stay facing away from him as you cry and hiccup, trying to get it back under control.

“I just- it’s stupid, it’s n-ot that big of a deal.”

For Eddie, making you cry is all about the glossy eyes and pouty lips as you stare up at him defiantly or a sign that you need him to quit playing games and fuck you. It’s never been this… brutal. Panic continues to rise in his system, and he’s unsure of how to handle the situation. Once upon a time, he thought he treated you the way that he did because some sadistic part of him liked to always make you hurt, but it was becoming evident that he just liked the play. The banter. The shoving and the glaring and pouting and the wandering eyes. When he acted the way he always did and you didn’t respond or did so in a quiet plea for him to really stop or really cried—it made his stomach clench. The more he tried to keep it up this week the more he realized that when you weren’t playing along he just… he was just mean. Really mean. Not “you’re so awful, just fuck me already” mean, but “you’re making me miserable” mean. And fuck if he didn’t hate the way that felt.

“Is it really that bad?” He murmurs, partially surprised by his own voice when it sounded this gentle. The thin plastic around his cigarettes crinkle under his nervous hands. And he thought he needed a smoke before. “Did I hurt you? Or-or somethin’? Do you need to go to a doctor?”

“No.” You weep, still refusing to look at him and it’s killing him even if a part of him knows he would crumble if he sees how you look right now. God, he hated this. The vulnerability of caring openly and to this extent, but what else could he do? Double down on his usual behavior and kick you while you were already so down you might as well have been sinking into the pavement?

“Y/N, please-“ He tries again and you crack completely.

“It’s just not fair because I thought I wanted this, but it’s to-oo hard. You don’t care enough to stick around. Y-You don’t check in with me. You’ve pushed me around for the past two years and I’m an idiot who thought it was all lighthe-hearted deep down, a-and that you wanted me too.”

You break down into tears again until you put yourself back together just enough so it’s only the constant sniffling and your voice trembling that’s interrupting you. All Eddie can do is stare at you with big brown eyes like saucers while you babble, his brow frowning as he anxiously picks at his fingernails and the skin around them.

“A-And of course I got my fucking period cause why wouldn’t I? Cause why would I catch a break? N-N my body aches and I’m so tired and you… you couldn’t… you didn’t…”

“What?” He’s shuffling a bit closer now, lowering his face like he always did to catch your attention. He was right that seeing your face like this would cave him in, and he wishes he could be dropped into a black hole. He knew he deserved it. At the sight of your current state, he was pulling that smoke he already had his fingertips on and placing it between his lips. He lights it and inhales deeply before letting his hand drop down, cig between his fore and middle fingers, ring finger toying with a tear in his jeans.

“You…” You let out a breath before dropping your gaze to your hands in your lap, tears still slipping down your cheeks and over your jaw to wet your neck and dampen the collar of your top or drop down and land on that skort he hated. “You wouldn’t even kiss me on Sunday…”

You sound horribly deflated at the admission, and his eyes flicker all over your features before the smallest twitches of the corners of his lips start to tug them up even though his eyes hold a sad sort of infatuation within them.

“You kissed me on Friday, but not once on Sunday. And you didn’t even seem to care…” You mumble, glancing over at him once and then twice when you notice the curve of his lips. Your eyes burn with a potential for new tears. “Are you fucking smiling?”

“No—no, well, yeah. Not like that.” He huffs out an anxious laugh. “I just… you ignored me… cause I didn’t give you a kiss..?”

You scoff, lips parted and gaze furious. He is unbelievable.

“Among other things! I-I… ugh! You’re infuriating!” You announce and his brows shoot up, grin widening with interest and he brings his cigarette back to his lips.

“You… you make fun of me constantly. You fuck me and finish in me and don’t even spend time with me after. The least you can do is kiss me. Or… or…” You huff, which was becoming a theme today.

He can’t help but find you cute when you’re angry. You remind him of that temperamental pixie in that old animated Peter Pan film from the ‘50s. He used to babysit a young girl in the trailer park who watched it constantly (much to his chagrin).

“Or you don’t get to have me anymore.” You conclude, and he just keeps staring at you with wild eyes as he smokes.

Your anxieties peak and a voice in your head is screaming to get out of the damn van, even when he’s just casually puffing on a cigarette without a hint of irritation on his face. Eddie lets the cig stick to his bottom lip as his hands find your form to pull you closer to him. His right hand raises to place the smoke between his middle and forefinger, and remove it from his lips. His left hand moves to hook his thumb on your lower lip and part your mouth for him to plant an open-mouthed kiss on you as his smoke floats around you and in your mouth, his tongue hot on yours. The pamphlets your parents gave you about the dangers of cigarettes popped up in your mind as his smoke fills you. The statistics and pictures of smoker lungs mean nothing to you as he kisses you like this.

You’re more than just warming up to the smell you usually couldn’t stand, and you find yourself back where you were on Friday. Willing to take whatever he gives you. As long as he kept kissing you like this. As long as he kisses you like he plans on making you his wife while he fucks you like he’s your high school bully. The kiss is all tongues and muffled moans, your arms wrapping around his neck. You chase after his lips when he finally starts pulling away. An involuntary whimper slid from you as you look at him with heavy eyelids.

“If you want something…” He trails off in a whisper, keeping his half-lidded eyes on you even as he reaches over to tap off ash into a cheap plastic tray. His thumb and pointer finger pinch your chin to keep your focus on him. “You ask, okay? Pretty standard rules, princess.”

“But…”

“But now,” He cuts you off with a soft sigh, head tilting as he looks at you. The eye contact is becoming so intense it’s burning through you. “Now I know this is important for you, ‘kay?”

You’re surprised by this. Honestly you’re shocked by every kindness and touch of patience he provided you today. You would have never guessed Eddie Munson is even capable of such a thing. You nod with your gaze retreating downwards, toying with your hands and he chases after your stare with a tilt of his head to try and get you to look at him again, brows raised up.

“Doll?”

You wipe at the cooling streaks of tears on one cheek with your shoulder then finally look up again, and nod with more confidence this time.

“And…” He looks almost like he’s in pain for a moment before he finally continues “‘m sorry, okay?”

“…Really?” You murmur, eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m capable of an apology, given the right circumstances.”

You eye him, silent with hesitation and shock.

“‘N the right girl.” He murmurs with a soft voice even though he had that shit-eating grin on his face. Why is it always so charming? It’s smug and teasing, but always so endearing.

You don’t know what else to do so you just kiss him. You pull him in by his shoulders and kiss him. You kiss him like you could devour him, body and soul. His arms circle around your waist after leaving that partly-smoked cigarette in the cheap ash tray and drags you closer all while kissing you back. He’s leaning down to place you on the scratchy carpeting and hover over you. Any break for air is short-lived before you’re back on each other. Your hands tangle in the messy curls draping around your head, tugging to pull a groan from him.

“Fuck…” He sighs into the kiss, dropping his body down to put more of his weight on you. He parts from your lips despite your whiny protests and presses kisses and nips to your jaw as he works his way to your neck. His arms unfurl from around your waist so his hands can settle on your hips and let his thumbs massage into your skin. You’re pawing at his vest as he works on leaving a love bite on your pulse point below your ear, and—surprisingly—he moves away to shake the jacket-vest combo off and drop it beside you. You eye the fit of his t-shirt and it makes your mind fog up.

All your focus is on the shape of his tummy against the fabric. The way the material sticks to him and shows all the harsh angles of his toned chest. The fact that he had cut off the bottom hem of his top and when he moves the right way you can see that trail of hair on his lower stomach. The shape of his arms under the sleeves. Does he work out? Considering his lack of discipline, you couldn’t imagine him having an exercise regimen, but dear god. His arms weren’t absurdly cut, but they were still thick with enough muscle that his sleeves seem a little tight. You can see the veins of his forearms and the blown out ink on his skin. When he’s on top of you again, sucking on your neck, you let your hands drag over his back and sneak underneath his shirt. The heat of his skin and the moving musculature alone making your toes curl. You’re happy to have him on you, but you wanted that damn shirt off too. You’re grasping at the fabric and pulling it up, gasping when he bites on your neck for doing so.

“Take that shit off-“ You huff, making a smile tug at his lips.

“Using my lines now, doll?” He purrs once he’s raised up again and grasping behind his head to pull his shirt over it. You can’t even think of a smart reply, your brain short circuiting at the sight of his naked torso. Even though you enjoy it, you never really understood his urge to bite. You sure do now. You shift from laying on your back to sit up in front of him while he remains raised up on his knees. Your hands slide up his stomach, feeling the goosebumps that raise in the wake of your cold fingertips. He’s still for once and you bring your hands back down to pull on his belt, fighting against the stiff leather to slide it out of the buckle.

You’ve never given head before, mainly because the only time there was an opportunity it had been with a guy you didn’t even like that much who kept trying to push your head down while you were kissing; but you felt feverish with thoughts of Eddie’s dick down your throat. While rushing to go down on him was the last thing you had on your mind at the start of your day, after he was so sweet on you, you were desperate to taste him.

Eddie’s breath is staggered as he watches you undo his jeans, his pupils all blown out. He can’t even count how many times he’s fantasized about those lips wrapped around his cock, but he knew after everything that he didn’t deserve to go first. Fuck, he wanted to, but he doesn’t deserve it. Belt open and slack and jeans undone, he grabs your hands to pin them over your head once you were pushed back onto the floor and he leans down to kiss you. One hand holds the side of your face and the other is pulling the zipper on your hip down, muttering a you first against your lips.

Before tugging at your skirt skort, Eddie pulled away again to lift your shirt off. He grew irritable for a moment with the long sleeves that fought him, tossing it aside harshly with a grumble that made you giggle. That gentle laugh was the only thing that lightened his mood again and encouraged a small smile before he continued. He kisses down your body, giving you the occasional bite. There are little things that he does along the way that make parts of you feel beautiful—parts that you either don’t pay attention to or even aren’t fond of. It’s an odd thing considering how mean he always is, but he seems to show a devotion to each and every inch of your skin that wouldn’t occur to most men. The way his hands slide along your sides as he makes his way down your chest, giving you the occasional squeeze. The way his arms slip around your midsection and bring you closer to his face with a press to the small of your back, smothering his face between your breasts still covered by a flimsy, lace bra—breathing in the scent of your skin. The way his hold relaxes as he continues down, just to squeeze you to him again when he finds a new spot he wants to smother himself in. One side of your tummy underneath your ribs. The slight rise of your lower abdomen beneath your belly button. Your hip bones.

You’re so drunk on his touch at first that it doesn’t even occur to you where this is leading until he’s already face-to-face with the center of your underwear.

“E-Eddie- no-“ You squeak out suddenly. “Not that.”

He lifts his head to eye you curiously and with surprise at the denial of getting head, lips parted in a question that you interrupt.

“I’m on my period, remember?”

Eddie half-jerks his shoulder up in a careless shrug. “Yeah, I know. So?”

“It’s just… it’s so messy and bloody. I wouldn’t even want you to eat me out right now if I was still mad at you.”

“Doll, c’mon…” He groans while pressing his face into your inner thigh—not to try and convince you to give consent cause he doesn’t care about this boundary, but rather to show how badly he wants to do this. That he doesn’t care about the mess and he doesn’t think it’s gross, in fact he found it hot. If you were sitting in his bed or in his passenger seat and got your period, his perv ass probably wouldn’t even try to remove the stain.

“I want to.” He insists, pulling away again to look up at you. “I think it would be so fucking hot. It’ll help the pain, princess.”

You consider the offer for a moment, wondering if he’s right. If he could make you feel so good that he’d reach and clear out those aches and pains that Tylenol couldn’t even touch. You still shake your head, the thought of all that blood on his tongue and the smell in his nostrils making you nervous and embarrassed. He groans again and dramatically flops into your stomach to hide his face.

“Not with your mouth.” You clarify, cheeks all rosy.

At that, he finally raises his head with a raised brow and his bangs all messy.

“Oh yeah?”

He’s sitting up now, settling back against folded legs as he raises your legs one by one to take your shoes off and toss them randomly. You tilt your head to watch one sneaker smack the back of the passenger seat, then look to the side to watch your second sneaker smack into the interior with a vibrating clunk. After taking off your shoes, your ankles are lightly settled on his shoulders and he has his hands wrapped around your calves as he tilts his head to press a kiss to the inside of one ankle. Then he’s moving to bite the inside of the opposite knee.

After that, he skips right back to your lips, your legs parted to settle on either side of him now. Eddie hooks his fingertips into the band of your underwear and pulls them down, having to begrudgingly separate enough so you can bend your knees up to your chest while he tugs them off your legs. He’s about to casually pull on the string of your tampon when you shake your head quickly and clasp your hand over your entrance.

“I’ll- I’ll do it.” You murmur and he’s (once again) groaning irritably.

He wishes you wouldn’t be so sheepish about it. He can understand the experience of your period not being the most comfortable thing in the world, but he doesn’t know what he has to do to show that he likes it. That he wants to go down on you and wipe that mess off of his face with pride, therefore not needing to look away at your insistence while you take out your tampon. Maybe it’s his pride in being a freak. Maybe it’s a slight twinge of superiority, knowing that he was one of the few guys that would even offer in the first place. Maybe it’s that breeding kink flaring up at what he saw as a glaring reminder that you could possibly get pregnant with his kid. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s you. But he lets you do it yourself, holding in his usual attitude for the sake of your sensitivity for once, then leaning back down to kiss you the second you give the okay.

The kiss doesn’t have as much of an apologetic gentleness as the others, but it was passionate and it was hot. The heavy breathing and groping and spit; the taste of cigarettes and mint; the scratch of slight stubble and the bump of his nose against yours. Eddie shot a hand out to feel for his jacket which he promptly crams under your tailbone to raise your hips, then dips his thumbs in the band of his exposed boxers to pull his pants and boxers down. (He didn’t take them off completely per usual, but you took getting him shirtless as your win).

Eddie pulls away just enough to wrap his hand around his cock, giving it a few good tugs before leading it to your entrance. He keeps an eye on your expression, plunging into you the moment his tip slid in. The few times he’s fucked you, you were always so messy and wet and warm, but this was enough to sign his soul away. You were soaked with arousal and blood as expected, but he wasn’t prepared for how much puffier you are like this. And so fucking hot. You mewl at the sensation, a dull ache in your lower abdomen at the start, but it’s slowly dissipating. Maybe it’s the association between blood and pain, and menstruation and pain, but you genuinely thought this would hurt more than usual—you certainly weren’t betting on your heightened sensitivity. Even that first stroke slipping into you lit up your nerves.

“‘S good, right?” He asks with a cocky grin, left hand wrapped around your right thigh and his right hand sliding over your tummy and slowly massaging the area.

You almost don’t want to admit it, but you do with a nod and pouty lips that have pathetic little whimpers slipping past them. Eddie slides back out a couple inches then pushes back into you, your toes curling as a bit of blood and arousal gushes and sputters out around his base. You curse under your breath, encouraging him to proceed. He’s uncharacteristically tender, and while seeing his sweet side today was a pleasant surprise—you just wanted him to fuck you.

“Eddie-“ You breathe out.

“Hm?”

“Please just fuck me.”

His grin is devilish and his gaze is fiery. He snaps his hips forward once without wasting a second, threatening to making your eyes roll back.

“Yeah?” He leans down, his voice a condescending whisper as he stays infuriatingly still while this deep. “My baby come cryin’ cause ‘m too mean? But she still wants me to bully her little pussy?”

You whine and nod your head, his following thrusts nearly punching the breath out of your lungs. His hand rests over your pubic bone and starts rubbing at your clit as he fucks into you. Your head lolls back into the carpeting, breasts bouncing with his efforts.

“Such a good fucking slut for me. This pussy all mine?”

“Uh huh-“ You speak in a whiny moan, hips weakly pushing forward and he takes the hint.

Eddie pulls you forward by your hips and holds you close to him as he gives you breathtakingly shallow thrusts. Your eyes begin to water from the way he’s moving inside you and his thumb is brushing on your clit. His other hand parts from your hip to grip onto the center of your bra, pulling it down to free your breasts and to keep a steady grip on you by the fabric clasped around your chest.

“Eddie-” You sob, and an earth-shattering sense of relief blows through him, leaving him temporarily wrecked before settling again like a gust of wind pushing up bird feathers before they smooth out again. Finally seeing those globs of tears in your eyes in the way he loves brought that balance back, and he’s doubling his efforts. Your lips part and your back arches up off of the carpet of his van, those wet streaks leading from your eyes back into your hair just like they were on Friday.

You’re counting your blessings that you aren’t back in your bed with your parents down the hall during your make up session because even the fear of being caught wouldn’t have been able to stop the moan that gasps from your lungs when you cum around him. All the tension and hormones and yearning of this week mixing with the overpowering pleasure he’s giving you, all culminating to this very moment and making you see stars. You feel like you’ve been temporarily shoved under water, all of the sounds around you muffling—even the sound of your own breathing. Just as you’re floating back up to the surface, Eddie’s leaning down to place his lips on yours. His large hands cover both sides of your face as he’s kissing you like he means it, only letting his hands part from your cheeks to wrap around your midsection and scoop you up while he sits back.

“Fuck-” You breathe out, hands settling to cradle the back of his head. You’re sure you look as disheveled as you feel. He thinks you look incredible.

“I know right?” He teases, all smug even in this quieter tone of voice and he laughs when you smack at his arm.

He eyes you from where his face is level with your chest, watching the playful irritation melt from your expression as he starts thrusting up into you. You’re almost too overstimulated from him moving so close to your orgasm that was still pulsing in the aftershock, but fuck if this doesn’t feel too good to pause even for a moment. Eddie wraps his arms around you to finally unclasp your bra and fling it towards the front of his van, metal hooks clinking against the hard surface of his dashboard. His hands smooth over your back, groaning against your skin as he smothers himself between your breasts again, fucking up into you. You start bouncing on top of him to meet his thrusts, whimpering quietly at the fluttering still rippling through your walls. You still have that palpable pulse inside you, squeezing around him and making it incredibly difficult to not cum before he can get you to let go at least one more time.

“C’n you cum for me, doll? Gimme one more?” He finally separates from your chest to look up at you again and while you were always the one looking fucked out, when you look at him you can’t help but feel like you’re seeing him the same way. A faint shine to his doe eyes glossed over with lust, that rosy tint to his cheeks, and the swell of his pink lips. You nod, but your hips buck in disagreement when his touch is back on your clit. It’s admittedly too soon, your eyes burning with prickling tears as the pleasure jolts through you like shocks of electricity rather than rolling waves—but you certainly weren’t going to ask him to stop.

You gasp out his name, fingers gripping the hair all damp with perspiration at the nape of his neck. You feel like you’re vibrating and the cramping in your stomach nearly makes you break and ask him to stop nudging at that sensitive bud. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, hearing him groan against your skin, feeling his hot breath on your chest. The two of you are moving like the universe would simply unravel if you stopped—as if it isn’t already unraveling in this moment.

“Oh my god-“ You moan and Eddie’s sinking his teeth into your breast—partly to punctuate his claim, partly to muffle his own sounds as he unloads inside of you.

You’re trembling in his lap with soft sobs in the aftershock of probably the most heart-stopping, all-consuming orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Even the slightest touch to your flushed skin sent shocks throughout your nerves and made you cry out, so Eddie stays still.

When both of your hearing is clear again, and you swallow to bring some moisture back to your throat—you let out a small laugh. It isn’t malicious or mocking. It rose up out of pure joy and relief and (honestly) a bit of surprise at everything that’s happened. And it all happened so quickly, you aren’t sure if your memory was able to keep up. God, you hoped it was. You want to relive it every time you close your eyes at night.

Eddie’s licking his lips and pulling back to look at you, a few laughs of his own bubbling up. Like always, he isn’t quick to pull out, but he does set you back down onto the carpet and press a few kisses to your jaw. His hands are pressed into the floor on either side of your head, pulling up his upper body to look down at you. Your hair is messy around your face, and streaks of mascara are all muddled around your eyes and down your cheeks. He put all of his weight on one arm to allow his other hand to raise up and swipe at those black streaks with his thumb before settling back down to kiss you, one arm still pressed up and bent at the elbow and the other settling his forearm on the rug.

The kiss is slower, but still sloppy with exhaustion. He pulls back one more time just to smile down at your face and ends up right back to kissing you seconds later.

*

The sun is setting in Hawkins and the two of you are all over each other until you realize how late it had gotten and your lips might as well have been ready to fall off. But even when you’re dropped off at home with excuses ready, he still climbed in through that bedroom window to keep kissing you once everyone in the house retired for the night.

After all, you finally left it unlocked and he couldn’t stand another week out in the cold.

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day... ↓

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[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 5

Masterlist || Part Four || Part Six

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Notes: I'll admit, this chapter isn't my favorite but it works lol. it's mainly here to establish certain things to make it easier for me in the future, so sorry if it's not as good as the others!

You call Steven immediately, but he doesn’t answer. Hanging up without leaving a message, you text him.

Is everything okay? You quickly type. You don’t want to immediately ask why he left. Maybe he was uncomfortable staying the night but didn’t want to say anything.

But then, why did he ask to kiss you again before you left him for the night?

As frustrating as it is for Steven to pull such a vanishing act, it hurts worse. You’re so attached to him already, and the thought that you might have done something to upset him or that he might not want to be around you is crushing.

There’s no immediate response to your text, and you try not to let this minor hiccup affect you. Surely something must have happened for Steven—sweet Steven, who apologizes for not responding to a message within a few minutes—not to have gotten back to you yet.

You’re left standing in the middle of your apartment, lost.

With a shake of your head, you try to put the worst from your mind. For all you know, he could have gotten called into work early and forgot to let you know on his rush out the door. You open your banking app and pay Steven for the night, making sure to deduct whatever you were planning to pay for the pleasure of waking up to him in your home. You also make a mental note to give Steven a firm talking to when you next see each other.

You didn’t hear from Steven for the rest of the weekend.

You’re reminded of one of your babies from a few years ago—the one who ghosted you after one date—and like a parasite, the idea that Steven might have done the same thing latches onto you and refuses to let go.

Monday morning, you’re determined not to let a mere sugar baby distract you—even though you don’t think of Steven as a “mere” anything—and steel yourself for what could be the inevitable end to a short-lived relationship. Steven taking two weeks to talk to you before agreeing to be your baby was one thing. It was another to agree to follow your rules, only to disregard them entirely. If Steven can’t commit to you the way you want him to, or if he decides that this isn’t for him, then you aren’t going to keep him.

It could even be a good thing, you try to convince yourself.

Maybe this could all be a lesson you need to learn about picking babies off the street.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You’re catastrophizing again. You’re making this personal, a reflection of yourself and your abilities. At the end of the day, Steven is an employee you hired because you thought he could do the job. After seeing some trouble from him, you’re merely reconsidering his position with you.

You ignore how much your stomach roils at the thought of letting him go.

At lunch, your phone vibrates in your purse—where you had tossed it earlier when you couldn’t stop staring at it from its usual place on your desk.

The sound makes you pause, questioning if someone is really calling you.

It might not be Steven, you tell yourself as you slowly, calmly reach into your bag and pull out your phone.

But it is him, and the weight in your stomach eases a little.

You stare at the phone, at Steven’s name on the screen, until it goes dark and stops vibrating. Then, a moment later, a notification pops up, announcing a voicemail.

Still, you wait. It’s only fair, after all.

Immediately, your phone starts buzzing again, Steven’s name displaying again. This time, you answer.

“Steven,” you say, your voice low. Although you’re glad he called and persisted with the voicemail and a second call, you’re still upset with him. He better have a good reason for disappearing.

“I am so sorry,” Steven says after a moment, perhaps registering your tone and knowing how upset you are. “I think…I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Despite your confusion, you keep your tone even, neither believing nor disbelieving him until you have more information.

Steven hesitates. “You’ll think I’m mad,” he mumbles, seemingly more to himself than to you.

That’s what hits you: your baby is going through something he’s afraid you’ll reject him for, that you won’t be there for him. And right now, regardless of how you feel, he needs you.

“Steven,” you say, softening your voice and letting a hint of worry peak through. “What’s wrong? Explain it to me.”

“I don’t remember this weekend,” Steven quietly admits, deepening your worry. “I mean, I remember staying at yours, but then suddenly I’m home, standing in the bathroom, and it’s Monday. And I know you’re mad at me, I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what’s going on.” Steven finishes, sounding on the verge of tears if a few haven’t slipped out already.

“Baby, hush,” you soothe. “I’m not mad at you.” Not anymore, though you are…concerned.

“You’re not?” Steven asks, hopeful.

“No, I’m not. But what happened? Are you not feeling well? Did you hit your head?”

You want to ask if he took anything, but hold off. It doesn’t feel like the right time, and it could potentially make him defensive and resistant to help if you do.

“Nothing like that. Mainly tired, like I haven’t slept in days, but nothing else.”

Strange, to say the least.

“Have you gone to the doctor?”

“N-no, I haven’t. I wasn’t sure…Since nothing’s wrong—”

“Steven, you blacked out for an entire day. That’s not normal,” you insist. Steven goes quiet. “Go. For me. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees softly.

“You’ll go today,” you order.

“Yes. Today.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip. “You’ll come to my place later. Meet me there when I get off work.”

You don’t know if inviting him back to your place is a good idea. There could genuinely be something wrong with Steven, something happening to him. But there’s also a chance he’s keeping something, some bad habit or another, from you.

You briefly rethink your decision to forgo a background check on him, but even still, you don’t make plans to follow through with it.

Despite the warning signs, you still want to see him, need to see him. You need to know he’s okay and be there for him. It takes everything in you not to go and be with him now, your anger forgotten and your worry about what he may have gotten himself into ignored.

He’s yours, and you want to take care of him. It’s almost as if, in the short time you’ve known him, he’s done something to you.

“I’ll be there,” Steven says, sounding more sure than anything else he’s said so far. “I…I need to see you.”

You try to ignore the warmth that floods through you.

Steven looks lost as he stands outside your door. He hesitates when he sees you, unsure whether to go to you or wait for you to reach him and unlock the door.

He looks tired, like he indeed hasn’t slept since he was here on Saturday, and his clothes are disheveled, more so than usual. You’ve yet to hear what happened to him over the weekend, what caused his blackout, but you already have a half-formed plan to keep him here tonight and put him to bed as soon as possible.

When you get close, you say his name softly and hold out your arms.

Steven looks relieved as he steps into you, his arms tucking under yours as he buries his face in your neck. He melts into you, and the two of you stand outside your door, each drawing some comfort from the other.

One of your hands goes to his head, threading your fingers through his curl and holding him tight. You kiss the side of his head and wait, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs.

He clings to you so desperately it makes you wonder if he has anyone else.

Why is it that you, his sugar mommy, are the first person he came to? Regardless of your feelings toward him, surely he has family or friends he could turn to in a moment like this.

You don’t recall him mentioning anyone, except his mother, off-handedly. From how he made it sound, you don’t think she’s even in London.

Maybe you’re all he has.

The thought makes you cling to him as much as he is to you. With Steven in your arms, it’s easy to decide that no matter what’s wrong, you’ll help him. Maybe it’s something where it wouldn’t be right for him to keep being your sugar baby, but you won’t abandon him.

When Steven shows no sign of letting you go, you whisper, “Let’s go inside.”

He reluctantly pulls away and nods, though his hand quickly finds yours.

Once you’re through the door, you kick off your shoes and lead Steven to the couch. You’re a little surprised he doesn’t immediately curl up to your side, but he seems to realize the two of you still need to talk. And whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Did you go to the doctor like I said?” you ask when Steven doesn’t speak.

Instead, he deflates, falling back against the couch, tossing his head back, and staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“She’s as stumped as I am, I think. Couldn’t find anything without running tests and…” he trails off, sounding defeated.

“And?” you prompt, squeezing his hand. He still hasn’t let go.

“She said it could just be sleepwalking or something like that. But for a whole day?” Steven lifts his head up, staring at you in confusion. “How can I have been asleep for a whole day? Not to mention getting from your flat to mine. Ugh, and then Donna.” Steven falls back and rubs his free hand down his face.

You had forgotten he was scheduled to work today. “You went in?”

“I was supposed to. Supposed to be there at nine, but came to staring at myself in the bathroom mirror with my phone ringing in the other room.”

“I take it Donna didn’t handle your absence well.”

“Oh, perfectly well, actually, if you don’t count the, you know, yelling and threatening to fire me. Had to tell her it was an emergency and promise that it won’t happen again to get her to stop. I don’t think she even believed me.”

You can practically see the weight of it all resting on Steven’s shoulders. Waking up after a blackout, knowing something is wrong, and then having your manager chewing you out immediately after? It would be horrible.

“Oh, Steven,” you soothe, pulling him to you so you can hug him again. “What about those tests the doctor mentioned? Are you going to take them? I could pull some strings and get you in to see a specialist sooner.”

“You don’t have to,” Steven insists as he wraps his arms around your waist. “There’s a chance it’s nothing… Just wait and see and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from arguing. You’ve never had to worry about a baby’s health before, and you’re not sure if insisting that he seek treatment goes beyond the bounds you set for the relationship or if Steven would even appreciate you inserting yourself into that part of his life. You don’t want to tell him what to do regarding certain aspects of his personal life, but you still worry.

“Did you tell your family about what happened?” you ask instead. If you can’t tell him what to do about his health, maybe they can.

“It’s just my mum,” Steven says quietly, as if unsure what he wants to tell you. “I left her a message. She’s always traveling, so it’s hard to catch her. She’ll listen to it when she can, though. She always does.”

Something about his tone is slightly off, making you wonder who he’s trying to convince.

“Can we just…go back to normal?” Steven asks, sounding exhausted. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Normal, huh?” you concede, running your fingers through his hair. You’ll play everything by ear for now, and Steven seems well enough that you’re willing to drop the topic for tonight.

“Please?” he mumbles into your neck.

“Well, it just so happens that I got something in the mail for you today.”

Steven lifts his head, brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You start pulling away, preparing to stand. “I’m going to need you to sound more enthusiastic than that, baby,” you say, kissing Steven’s cheek.

“Right, sorry,” he says, his face flushing like he’s already forgotten your roles. “I love it already. Thank you.”

You can’t help but laugh as you walk over to the front door where you left your bag. Grabbing the card you had safely tucked away earlier when it arrived at the office, you walk back to the living room and stand directly in front of Steven.

You flash the card at him, showing off his name and making Steven’s eyes widen in surprise.

“There’s no limit; you can use it to buy anything and everything. It’s already activated, and I have notifications set up on my phone, so I’ll know when you use it.” Your eyes narrow as you watch Steven visibly swallow, nervous. “And when you don’t.”

“I-I…” Steven stammers but doesn’t quite finish whatever he’s trying to get out.

You watch him closely, looking for any sign that he isn’t interested in this kind of play, the slightest hint that he’s uncomfortable.

Something dark shifts across his features then, twisting his expression toward a scowl. But then it’s gone in an instant, Steven’s expression returning to what it was, his soft brown eyes so trusting. You have no idea what to make of it.

Though it leaves you confused, you decide to continue but are mindful of any other signs that you’ll need to stop what you’re doing. What you have in mind isn’t intense, but some of your babies found it degrading and didn’t like doing it.

“Tell me why I should give you this card,” you say.

Steven shakes his head automatically. “I don’t deserve it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No? But aren’t you doing this for the money? And all the other things I can give you?”

He looks away briefly before meeting your eyes again. Even though he’s hesitating, nothing about him says he doesn’t want to be doing this.

“Yes? But you already—”

“Steven.” His mouth snaps shut at your tone. “Repeat after me: I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

He flushes again and mumbles, “I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

“Louder.”

Steven repeats himself, only slightly louder than the first time.

“Again,” you order, still not satisfied.

When Steven repeats the words this time, he does so at a normal speaking volume—not too loud, but perfect for you.

“Good boy,” you praise, reaching out to hold his face with your free hand. You can tell this was hard for Steven, and you hope, one day, asking for the things he wants will be easier for him.

Steven closes his eyes with a contented sigh and nuzzles your palm. You can’t help but smile adoringly at him.

“Do you know why you deserve it?” you ask, keeping your voice low, soft.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly, careful not to knock your hand away. “Because you’re my baby, and you’re special. Say it.”

Steven lets out a shaky breath against your palm. “Because I’m yours, and I’m special.” He doesn’t mumble or stumble over the words. His voice is clear and even, making you let out a pleased hum. You’re a little proud of him.

“Since you want it so much, beg for the card,” you say, watching him carefully.

Steven seems a little taken aback, and you drop your hand from his face.

“You can always say no,” you remind him. “This doesn’t have to be something we do. No hard feelings.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you take a step back and go to hand him the card. He’s done so well already, and you won’t push him into something he doesn’t want to do. Just because he’s your sugar baby doesn’t mean he’s a toy to toss around as you please.

But then Steven’s hands are on your hips, holding you in place.

“Please,” he whispers, staring up at you beseechingly from his place on the couch. Your heart starts to pound, elated.

“Please, what? What do you want?” You need him to say the words; you need to know that he wants to do this, too.

“Please give me the card,” he says, his voice still so quiet.

“You don’t sound like you want it bad enough.”

Steven shifts on the couch, moving close to the edge. His hands on your hips tighten ever so slightly. He licks his lips and says, “Please, can I have it? I promise I’ll use it. I’ll-I’ll buy so much stuff. Please?” He sounds happy to play along but isn’t sure quite what to say. You’re pleased, though, that he’s trying.

“Please what?” you prompt, hoping he’ll get the message, that he’ll like that part of the relationship too.

Steven stares at you for a moment. Then, “Please, mummy,” said in a breathless whisper.

Smiling brightly at him, you lean down and kiss him. Steven eagerly returns it, gripping your hips tighter and trying to pull you closer even though his head is already tilted back at a slightly awkward angle.

“You did so well, baby,” you say when you pull away. During the kiss, your hand somehow found its way into Steven’s hair, gripping it just enough to move his head how you wanted. You slide your hand back down to his cheek, brushing your thumb against the flush you find there. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is slightly open as he lets out shallow pants.

Standing up straight, you hold the credit card out for Steven. “Buy whatever you want, and you’re not getting off this couch until you do.”

“Right now?” Steven asks, sounding a little dazed. He reluctantly releases your hips to take the card, allowing you to sit beside him.

“Yes, right now. Pull out your phone.” You settle in against his side, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, around his shoulders when he settles back, so you can hover over him. “Do you want one of those giant TVs? A gaming system or a computer? What about getting the fixings for a saltwater tank and getting Gus an exotic friend?”

“I… don’t know,” Steven says, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He still seems overwhelmed by the whole idea of having such an outrageous amount of money to spend. You affectionately brush one of his curls away from his face.

“Don’t worry, we have all night to figure it out.”

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[sturniozo]

Tutor part Six

NOT PROOFREAD

masterlist

The rest of the weekend went as usual. In the sense that I mostly spent my time with Nick. Chris almost ignored me the rest of the time I spent at their house. He said no more than bye to me when I left Sunday night.

It was no surprise to me that Monday at school when Chris ignored me then too. But that didn’t change the fact that my stomach dropped when I saw him standing at his locker, tucking the hair behind another girls ear.

I stood in the hallway paralyzed, just watching the scene in front of me. She’s laughing at something he said. I can feel the tears in my eyes form and my legs begin to feel like jello.

I step back. I don’t even know what I’m doing as I quickly walk away. I run to the bathroom and wipe my tears off my face. I rinse my face off and take deep breaths. I shouldn’t even be crying. Chris isn’t mine.

I compose myself fully then walk out of the bathroom. I take a different route to class, so I’m not met with that view again. As I turn the corner to my class I crash into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I say quickly and look up to see who I crashed into. It’s a taller guy, one that looks familiar. I just can’t place where.

“Oh you’re fine.” He smiles at me. “I’m Ty, I’m on the hockey team with your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I shake my head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh. I thought I saw you wearing Chris’s hoodie at the game last Friday.”

“Oh, you probably did… but Chris is just a friend.”

“Well that’s good then. I wouldn’t dream of asking Chris’s girl out, but since you’re not Chris’s girl…” He smirks at me.

“Ask-asking me out?”

“Yeah. What do you say?”

“Well I… I’d have to think about it. I’m usually pretty busy…”

“Okay well, when you decide, I have hockey practice Mondays and Wednesdays. Find me there.”

“Okay…” I say shyly and Ty walks away. I turn back around to walk to my class and see Chris just staring at me. He notices I see him and he walks away.

-

I open my front door for Chris. It’s our study session today, and although I’m still distraught over what happened yesterday, I have to act like I’m okay just for today.

Chris doesn’t even say hello as we walks in. He rushes up the stairs and into my room, laying on my bed instead of sitting at the desk.

I sit down at the desk, trying not to let anything Chris does bother me. I take out my notes and look them over.

“What did Ty say to you?” Chris finally speaks.

“What?” I ask. I turn to face him and he’s laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling while holding one of my stuffed animals.

“What did Ty say to you yesterday?” He says again.

“Nothing he just. He asked me out is all.” My voice gets quiet and I turn back around to the desk. I fiddle with the notes.

“You shouldn’t go out with him.” Chris says blatantly.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s just going to use you.”

“Oh.” I nod and swallow the saliva building up in my mouth. I fiddle with the notes once again. “What class did you want to start with today?” I try to change the subject.

“Do you like him?” Chris asks, ignoring my attempts.

“Who?”

“Ty. Do you like Ty.”

“I dunno. I never met him before yesterday.”

“You shouldn’t go out with him. He’s a prick and he just wants to use you.”

“So you’ve said before.”

“I’m serious y/n. Don’t go out with him.” Chris sits up.

“I never said I was going to. I only said he asked.”

“So you didn’t say yes? You said no?”

“Well… I told him I’d think about it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him at hockey practice you made up your mind and it’s a no then.” Chris’s voice stopped being so monotone and had gone back to his usual peppy happy boy voice.

“I can tell him myself.” I say.

“If you do it he’d try to manipulate you into getting with him. It’s better I do it.”

“Why does it matter to you so much?” I ask.

Chris shrugs “I just don’t want you with him.”

“Why not? Why does it matter to you?”

“It just does.” He pauses before continuing “You’re Nick’s best friend, he probably doesn’t want you coming to him crying when that guy breaks your heart. I know he would too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just thinking about Nick here.”

“You’d think I’d annoy Nick by going to him if I got hurt? He’s my best friend, I’ve done to him for every problem I’ve had for the last five years!”

“God, I just don’t want you with him okay! Me!” Chris yells.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because…”

“Because why Chris?”

Chris stays silent. He puts on a brooding face and clenches his jaw.

“If you can’t tell me then just let it go.”

“Fine.” Chris huffs and leans back against my wall.

“Are we gonna study?” I ask after a long silence.

“Yeah.” Chris mumbles. He stands up and walks over to his seat next to mine. We couldn’t even get through a full minute before Chris says “Do you want to go out with him?”

“Chris, I said drop it.”

“But do you?”

“I don’t know!” I snap. Chris stays silent and I take a breath. “I’ve never met him before then. But you know him, and you say he’s no good and I believe you.” I say calmly.

“So you won’t go out with him?”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Do you want me to tell him?”

I shrug. “You see him more than me I guess.” I say, finally giving in to everything Chris wants.

Chris just smiles and then picks up his notes. “So, algebra? I’ve got like an 11% in that class right now.”

I look at him shocked. Partly because he’s actually studying today, and partly because how can he be pulling an 12%? “Chris- how?”

Chris just shrugs. “I’ve never had someone to study with to make it worth my time. Not before you.”

This makes me blush a little and I turn away from him to hide it. Then I remember yesterday and that Chris shouldn’t make me feel this way. He’s just as bad as the guy he was warning me about.

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed: Part Two

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Now that you and Bucky are together, it doesn't seem like anything can ruin your good mood. That is until Brandon comes back with a vendetta against your new boyfriend.

PART ONE

Squares Filled: accidental feelings (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

All you can think about is Bucky’s lips on yours and his hand on your ass. What he said that night was true: you weren’t enjoying your date with Brandon. He’s arrogant, only thinks about himself, loves to hear himself talk, and is a complete douche. Bucky is everything Brandon isn’t. Bucky is sweet, caring, thoughtful, and very bold. If your years of flirting told you anything, Bucky is a cheeky flirt but only for you. 

He doesn’t do that to anyone else in the office.

You avoided Bucky the entire weekend to gather your thoughts and prepare yourself to see him. He texted you a couple of times but understood you might need your space, especially when he knows he might have overwhelmed you. You pull into the parking lot on Monday morning with a racing heart and sweaty palms. The second you get out of your car, you feel his presence behind you. He must have been waiting for you to show up even though you’re one of the only ones who show up before everyone else.

Bucky’s body heat radiates off him so much that you can feel it on your skin even though you’re wearing clothes. He doesn’t have to say anything to make you aware of how he’s feeling. He grabs your waist and turns you so you’re facing him, and he leans down to kiss you. His lips are only on yours for a few seconds before you pull away with a nervous giggle.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes. You’re very intimidating… in a good way,” you quickly add.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he chuckles and backs up to give you some space. “I want to take you out tonight. What do you say? Will you go on a date with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile.

You lock your car and the two of you walk to the police station together. You walk ahead of him to get to your desk and he not-so-subtly checks your ass out in your dress.

“I have got to say, that dress is working for you. You look gorgeous.”

You look down at the frilly dress you bought this weekend. It’s baby pink with white flowers on it, and it’s completely appropriate for work. You wiggle your hips to make it shake and Bucky laughs.

“Thank you. It’s new.”

Bucky winks at you as he walks to the back where his desk is. You immediately get to work and sort through your emails as the rest of the officers file into the building. You greet them all like you do every morning, smiling at Sam when he walks in.

“Hey, how was your weekend?”

“Probably not better than yours,” he grins. “I hear two certain someones are together now?”

“Wow, word travels fast here, huh?”

“Well, it’s hard not to when our desks are so close together. Not that I’m surprised. You two have always had that spark. I’m kind of jealous if I’m being honest.”

“I didn’t know you wanted Bucky like that,” you joke.

“Har-har,” Sam rolls his eyes with a smile. “No, I never had that connection with anyone before. Look at me, I’m thirty-eight and still single.”

“Don’t stress about it. It’s going to happen. You’re a great guy who deserved someone equally as great.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sam heads to his desk to begin his work day while you finish checking your emails. It takes an hour to get through all of them, and you close the browser once you’re done. You lean back to take a small five-minute break when the front doors to the station open. Brandon storms inside with an angry look on his face, and you immediately stand up in shock.

“Brandon, what--”

“Where is Officer Barnes?” he sneers.

Someone clears their throat from behind you, and you look to see Bucky leaning on the door frame that separates the lobby and the officers’ desks.

“Right here.” Bucky walks to your desk and stands next to it. Has he been there the entire time? “Can I help you?”

Brandon takes out the ticket that he issued him on Friday along with the bill from his mechanic. He practically throws the two pieces of paper in his face, and you watch as they flutter to the counter.

“My taillight wasn’t fucking broken. I went to the mechanic who told me everything was fine.”

Bucky crosses his arms which makes his arms look bigger than they are. If you’re being honest, he looks hot right now, especially in his uniform. His police belt fits snugly around his waist, and his ass looks good in the black slacks they provide for him.

“They were broken when I looked at them.”

This only pisses Brandon off more.

“You’re going to pay my mechanic bill!”

“Sir, you need to calm down.”

Again, Brandon rages at how calm Bucky is. How were you ever on a date with this guy? He never showed this type of anger when it was just the two of you.

“This is so fucking stupid! This entire place is crawling with corrupt cops.” Brandon’s wild eyes land on your wide ones. He raises his hand and points a crooked finger at you while taking a step toward you. “You’re no fucking better.”

Bucky jumps into action, grabs his outstretched arm, and pins it behind his back. He slams Brandon facedown onto your desk, and you jump at the sudden action. Bucky reaches behind him and grabs his handcuffs so he can slap them on Brandon’s wrists.

“Don’t you point your fucking finger at her. You need to calm down before you get arrested,” Bucky threatens.

You watch Bucky handle the situation with ease, and you bite your lower lip in thought. The commotion catches the attention of a few officers, and Sam rushes into the main lobby.

“What is going on here?”

“Take him to holding,” Bucky says and yanks Brandon upright. Sam knows better than to question Bucky right now. He grabs Brandon’s arm and escorts him out of the room. You quickly turn and leave the main lobby to gather your thoughts. “Doll, wait!” Bucky follows you to an empty hallway. “Hey, don’t worry. He won’t hurt you.”

“That’s not it,” you shake your head.

“What is it?”?” he asks. He steps closer to you. “What are you thinking about?”

“That was hot,” you say with a blush.

Bucky smirks and places his left hand on the wall, semi-trapping you there.

“Oh, yeah?”

You give him a shy nod, and he cups your jaw with his right hand. His hand is so big that it rests mostly on your neck, and he still has enough room to rub his thumb on your skin. He pulls you closer and kisses you. He’s so magnetic and surrounds you in everything you do. This time, you embrace the kiss instead of pulling away from him.

Brandon spent the entire day in lockup and was let go before your shift ended. Like what Bucky has done so many times before, he waits for you to get off just so he can walk you to your car. He can make the excuse he doesn’t want Brandon to come back and hurt you, but it’s really so he can spend more time with you.

“Thank you for walking me to my car,” you smile at him.

“Anytime, Doll. I’ll pick you up at eight, okay?”

“Okay.”

You and Bucky go your separate ways, and you drive home wondering where Bucky is going to take you. What kind of man is Bucky? Where would he take a girl on the first date? You get home an hour and a half before Bucky wants to pick you up, so you have time to take a shower and change into something cuter. You have a knee-length dress with pockets that you’ve been wanting to wear that you think would be perfect for this. 

Once you’re done with your shower, you do your hair and makeup before getting dressed. You’ve just finished when you hear someone knock on your door. You check the final look in the mirror by the front door before opening it. 

Bucky is out of his police uniform and decided to wear something more casual. His jeans hug his ass perfectly, his muscles are well defined in the thin Henley he threw on, and his hair is tousled perfectly. He takes one look at you and whistles lowly in appreciation. 

“Damn. You look amazing.”

“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Shall we?” he offers his arm.

“Of course.”

You take his arm, and he leads you to his Mercedes AMG GT. His house is only twenty minutes from your place, but it feels longer with Bucky’s hand on your thigh for the entire trip. You really like him, you’re just so nervous around him. Flirting with him is way different than allowing him into your life like this. You’ve been burned before, so you’re a bit cautious when it comes to guys you let in. You don’t want to ruin this thing you have with Bucky because of your nerves so you’re going to take it one step at a time.

Bucky reaches his house with ease and pulls into his driveway. 

“I hope you don’t mind a night in.”

“Actually, I really like that. It’s just us.”

“Exactly,” he smiles.

You’ve never seen the inside of his place despite knowing him for two years. He’s always been a private person which you valued. It’s tough to know what he’s thinking at times, which makes him even more mysterious than usual. His house is very minimalistic with very few pictures on the wall and not a lot of things to suggest that someone lives here. Your place is the complete opposite because you have pictures and trinkets everywhere in your house.

“I’m going to cook for you tonight. I figure some good food, delicious wine, and some slow music would make the perfect first date.”

“You’re making me blush,” you chuckle and touch your heated cheeks.

“That’s good, yeah?” he chuckles and leads you to the kitchen.

“Yeah.”

The kitchen is very clean and large with a large kitchen island in the middle of the room. He grabs a bottle of your favorite wine and pours two glasses. You’re not much of a cook so you’re content with sitting here and watching him do all of the work. While you take your spot at the kitchen island, Bucky gets to work cooking.

Bucky at work in his police uniform is very attractive, but seeing him barefoot in his own kitchen cooking expertly is a sight in itself. He looks so calm compared to the hard act he puts on at work. Sure, you two flirt, but he doesn’t really smile much unless it’s with you. Here, he’s free to be himself and it shows.

His muscles flex whenever he chops the food up, and you can see his back muscles move when he is flipping the food in the pan. You're already halfway done with your wine when he is almost done cooking, and you decide to pace yourself before you get a bit too tipsy and ruin this. Your fingers dance along the rim of the glass as you admire him.

“Do I have something on my face?” he chuckles and plates the food.

“Have I ever told you how attractive you are?”

“Once or twice.”

“Well, you are.”

“Are you a lightweight? Do you need some water?”

“No, I can hold my alcohol. I’m just… happy.”

Bucky smiles but doesn’t say anything as he finishes with the plate. He cooked something you’ve never had before but are willing to try.

“That’s all I ever want you to be with me,” he says honestly. “Food’s ready.”

You grab the wine and he takes the food to the dining room where there is a big table meant for ten or more people. But tonight, it’s just you two so he takes the end seat and the one to the right of it.

“I hope you like it. It’s something new I tried a couple of days ago. I figure the best person to try it out would be you.”

You cut into your food and take a bite, and you almost moan at how good it tastes. 

“This is so fucking good. You’re really good at cooking. Have you ever taken classes?”

“No, my mom taught me everything I know. After she died, I really started getting serious about it to keep her memory alive.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, she always cooked this vegetable soup every week in high school. It didn’t matter what I had planned. I wanted to be home to eat it.”

“She sounded amazing,” you smile and take another sip of your wine.

“She was. You would have liked her.”

“So, what were you like in high school? Would I have talked to you?”

“I was a bit of a player,” he chuckles nervously. “I don’t think you would have gone for me but I would have definitely gone for you.”

“I don’t know. Bad boys were kind of my forte.” You smirk mischievously and eat some more. “I was a book girl who did her school work. I guess I wanted someone like you to come in and sweep me off my feet.”

“Am I doing it now?”

“Oh, you are definitely doing it now,” you laugh.

You and Bucky fill the rest of the meal with light chatter about both your pasts until you’re both done with your food. He takes your hand and leads you to the living room so you can move this party to the couch.

“Have you always been like this? Where are pictures of your friends and family? It looks so bare.”

“I never had any need to put pictures up.”

“What about your family? Your mom?”

“Yeah, I have pictures in the basement. Everything about me is down there. I just never had any desire to put them up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll liven this place up in no time,” you grin and sip your wine.

Bucky gently takes the glass from you when you’re done and places both yours and his on the sleek coffee table. He leans back onto the couch and pulls you closer by your hips. You’re not quite on his lap but close enough to where you can sit on it with one move. He slides his right hand in your hair and pulls you into him so he can kiss you. 

Kissing him feels like Heaven because he knows exactly what he’s doing. His lips move expertly over yours and his tongue swipes against your lower lip. You open your mouth to let him in, and he moves his hands over your hips to pull you onto his lap.

“Wait, wait,” you pulls away with a pant.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Like I said before, you’re kind of intimidating and I’m kind of nervous. Can we just lay here tonight? Just me and you?”

“Of course. I never want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” you smile and peck his lips.

Bucky shifts on the couch so that he’s lying flat on it, and you lay your entire body over his like a small child would do with their parent. Bucky runs his hands up and down your back gently and you put your ear over his heartbeat since its rhythm calms you.

What you have with Bucky is rare and you don’t want to mess it up by going too fast. He’s too important to you.

x

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[bigtreefest]

Chapter 8: Golden Hour

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: The sun sets on Bucky’s last week of the deal to work on your farm

Word count: 2,138

Content/warnings: kissing, cuddling, shaky voices aka holding back crying and emotions, avoiding a sensitive topic, drinking, pet name usage

Author’s Note: Although this chapter is kinda sad, I think it’s sweet to see how much they care for each other. You can really tell neither is looking forward to the separation but they’re both too stubborn to say something about it.

This is a shorter chapter, too, but I hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear your feedback!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky stayed on the phone with Andy for the better part of an hour to make sure he had all of the information. According to Barber, since the cow was given to you ‘in good faith,’ legally, you could keep it without being considered as in debt to Cole. That was a relief, and throughout the weekend, Bucky was being…well, Bucky. His normal controlling self, or at least as much as he could be while still under your roof.

All you wanted to do was enjoy your midday snack on Sunday afternoon before heading back out to do some minor maintenance work when he gave you an update.

“I’ve already gotten Jensen to set up an appointment with a vet who can scan it for chips or any nefarious devices to make sure we’re not being tracked or listened to.”

You stoped midway through biting your granola bar, gesturing with it out to the side of your house where the cow had been staying in surprise.

“Jensen? My ex, Jensen? You’re really working together? I thought you hated him. Fixing the cave wasn’t a one-and-done?”

Bucky shrugged as he looked through your cabinets for something to satisfy his cravings, already half-tired from starting to repair a shed with you and finding schematics for a porch swing. “Well, I technically do hate him, and it’s more like he’s working for me than us working together, but I saw how he’d give up anything to help you, and someone with that quality is worth keeping around.”

He finally settled on a cheese stick and a couple crackers before turning to face you. “Plus, the fact that somehow you don’t hate him helps a little, but I’m still gonna keep him in check.”

You smiled and nodded, throwing away your wrapper and going for another sip out of your water bottle. “Hm, I see. I hope that new training you sent him through will prove useful for the future. Seal his loose lips right up.”

Bucky stopped mid-chew, afraid to look at the knowing smirk on your face. You really were too perceptive for his own good. “Um, yeah. Be a shame to waste it on someone we don’t plan on using. Now hurry up and finish that water bottle. Gotta make sure you’ve got enough energy to finish the repairs on that shed this afternoon so your little cow has a place to lay her head outside. Plus, Curtis is coming over later to help me with a surprise and I’ve gotta make sure I’m ready for him.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about my energy, cowboy. Hope you can keep up.” And with a wink, you polished off your water and walked toward the door to slip on your boots and get back to work.

After a mostly restful weekend, you woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning, the last of the month, the last of- no. You didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you took this early hour as a chance to be productive before you had to get Bucky up. A chance to fill your mind with anything but that thought. You figured you’d get a jump on gathering the eggs. You had time to make a breakfast casserole, that could be good. And then do the crossword from yesterday you hadn’t touched? And maybe read? Really, anything to keep occupied before you had to face the music.

Before you knew it, the oven beeped to signal the end of the casserole’s bake time. You pulled it out and slipped off your oven mitts, running on the cool wooden floors in your socked feet to the staircase and going up to Bucky’s room.

You lightly knocked on the door and cracked it open to see a lump tangled up in the old comforter. As you slowly crept forward over the creaky floor, you could just barely make out the rise and fall of his body. You hated to wake him as he looked so peaceful, but it was time for work, and sleeping in any longer would just postpone the inevitable and waste your valuable time together.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Jamie, rise and shine. Time to get going.”

He groaned and rolled over, squinting at you through the one eye he could pry open.

“Hmmmm. Honey, didn’t I earn an extra five minutes? I’ve been so good and done all the shit you’ve asked of me lately.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his gruff morning voice as he reached out for you, throwing his arms around your hips and shuffling to place his head in your lap. You stroked his hair, basking in the early morning moment.

“Watch your tongue, but yes, you did, and I gave it to you fifteen minutes ago, so get up and ready for the day.”

Bucky grumbled lowly against your jean-clad thigh. “Fuck off, Steve.”

You remained silent until he turned his head up to look at yours at the lack of response. Bucky’s tired eyes were met by your firm warning glance, causing him to backtrack immediately.

“Um, sorry, I, uh… I meant of course, honey, excited to start my ….” His voice began to shake. You could’ve finished the sentence for him. You knew what he was going to say. His last week on the farm. But you didn’t. You didn’t finish his sentence because you didn’t want to hear it either. You simply patted his head and nodded, your eyes slightly more watery than before. You tried to play it off as a yawn before gently lifting him from your lap and standing again.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Your attempt at a snarky reply came out as a whisper, caught somewhere in your throat, where you attempted to clear it out before starting again. “Breakfast is already cooked, just cooling right now. I’ll go ahead and serve it up. I hope you’re dressed and ready, downstairs before it gets too cold.”

By the time Bucky had the chance to process your words and demeanor and nod, you had already turned around and headed back downstairs.

Besides the successful vet appointment, the rest of the days of the week were quite similar to the way Monday went, although Bucky kept getting up earlier, and pushing you to stay up later, not wanting to waste a single second with you.

The farm work went smoothly, much faster than you had recalled your first weeks with Bucky being, considering he couldn’t do a single thing without you by his side back then. The two of you still worked alongside each other, but now it made everything go twice as fast instead of creating roadblocks.

The fields were getting long enough to make hay bales, so you officially got to take Bucky up into the big green tractor and show him the way to properly weave and maneuver through the fields to cut it, turn it, and bale it. You didn’t miss the way he smirked when you told him the piece of equipment you’d be using for the job. That song, ‘Big Green Tractor,’ had played several times in the bar and it didn’t take too long for Bucky to catch on to the innuendo, but he didn’t do anything about it…yet.

For some of the other tasks, Peter came along, too, learning how everything worked. He caught on quickly, which was reassuring because you weren’t sure how things were going to be without Bucky by your side in the coming weeks. The increased speed on everything helped you to finish up earlier than usual, too, giving you most of the night for just relaxing with the two of them. Well, mainly Bucky, since Peter stayed out of the way when he could. You’d had enough time to hang out for a couple hours before dinner, then finish up the evening checks and milkings, and then go back to decompress before bed.

That gave plenty of time for you to go do something with Bucky, just the two of you outside of chores, outside of his scheduled phone calls, to just be. And then each night, after you changed into pajamas, Bucky crawled into your bed with you, his arms wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding lazy, yet deep conversation until the first one between the two of you fell asleep.

This new arrangement with no signs of Bucky returning to his old quarters allowed Peter move into the house. Sure, it may not have been that exact room in favor of one of the other guest rooms, but you insisted that now that the rest of the crew had finished up their work in the mines, there was no sense in him staying alone in the barndiminium. Especially if he was to be here for the foreseeable future.

Another night, another chance for you and Bucky to enjoy the sunset out in the rocking chairs, facing west. Except, Bucky wasn’t the biggest fan of any sort of seating with armrests that might block your closeness, so the two of you sat pressed up against each other on the front porch swing, the surprise for you that Curtis had come over to help Bucky build earlier in the week.

You weren’t all alone in these moments, though. Sure, all the people around you knew to stay away and give the two of you privacy in these times, but it was different for the farm animals. As you leaned back against Bucky’s chest, his arms around your waist and head tucked over your shoulder, satisfied yet worried thoughts filling your heads, the two of you would laugh as the sheep and cattle dogs would run up to you, accompanied by the mini highland cow that you’d decided to let Decks name the next time she visited.

The week had flown by already, full of nights like this, the two of you sitting in the glow of the golden hour that Bucky would surely miss in the city, sharing kisses and everything you could think of.

The air was just cool enough on Friday night when the sun went down to make a bonfire. Cherry had the night off for once, so Curtis had brought her over for a small picnic in one of the fields before joining the two of you by the fire.

You and Bucky had made an ice bucket of beer for the occasion, sipping lightly throughout the easy conversation, your back to his chest as his was against a log, the both of you sitting on an old quilt. Curtis and Cherry were doing the same as you got to know the girl who seemed to be stealing his heart.

“So Houston, huh? How do you feel about here?” Bucky gestured across the fire to her with his bottle.

“Yeah, kind of glad to be out of there, though. Have some time to take it slow away from the city, ya know? What about you? You’re not from around here either, right?”

You did your best to hide your wince at Cherry’s response. Sure, she was just being nice and holding genuine conversation. You couldn’t blame her for not knowing the way you and Bucky were trying to ignore any topics that even came close to his departure or what he was doing here in the first place.

Bucky was much better at hiding his true emotions, though, a product of his livelihood. “Yeah, city life has been good to me. Doesn’t mean I don’t love it out here just as much, though. I think I’ve gained a whole new perspective on this place and the people just from a month.” He gave a small smile with his response which Cherry returned with a nod before Bucky leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I feel that. I kind of already feel at home. But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

There it was. She said it out loud, creating a pang of pain in both your and Bucky’s chests. He cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance at his stoic pal across the fire, and Curtis seemed completely unbothered. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of how much you and Bucky cared for each other. And maybe he was right for that. As soon as Bucky left, he had to go back to his normal, busy schedule that poor Steve had been maintaining this whole time, and then some. Bucky wouldn’t have space in his schedule to come back here or worry about you for anything but business, right?

You let out a shaky breath as Bucky rubbed his hand along your side, responding just barely loud enough to overtake the crackling fire. “Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: when things heat up to be pulled apart…I’m sure there a scientific term for that (entropy?)

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @mrsnikstan

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Meet the Greyhounds

Plot: On the first day of season training, the Greyhounds welcome the newest member of AFC Richmond and Y/n gets a crash course in Ted Lasso’s unconventional coaching methods.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: language, use of f!reader (16+)

A/N: Here we are again, now with the Greyhounds entering the story…👀

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged, though I’m still only tagging 16+. Enjoy!!

————

Contrary to the whirlwind of her hiring, Y/n’s first week at AFC Richmond was nothing but calm waters.

The first few days had been spent mostly in meetings with Higgins, learning the basic operations of parts of the club she’d be involved in. She bounced back to the KJPR offices every few days for a meeting with Keeley. Already, there was a rhythm developing to her days.

Y/n took the weekend to set up her office, driving over a few boxes of books, wall hangings and office supplies to Nelson Road Stadium. Season training started on Monday and Y/n knew it was her last chance to get settled before the work truly started.

On Sunday evening, she stayed late organizing her desk the way she liked. When she was finally done, taking a final satisfactory look at the space, she collected her coat and locked up for the night. She was on her way out when she noticed up the stairwell, there were still lights on.

Thinking only her and the night cleaning crew were still around, Y/n shuffled up the steps. The closer she got, the better she could make out the light was coming from Rebecca’s office. Not only that, she could hear mumbled curses.

Y/n rapped her knuckles twice against her boss’s door, poking her head in just enough to show who it was.

“Oh,” Rebecca breathed, sat behind her desk, “Come in.”

Y/n took a cautious step through the doorway, giving a little wave, “I saw the light and didn’t know who was still here.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be here,” Rebecca replied, trying to put on a smile for Y/n, “Not till tomorrow anyway.”

Nodding, Y/n shifted her coat in her arms.

“You’re here awfully late as well,” Rebecca changed the subject.

“Oh,” Y/n answered, “Finally took the time to unpack everything. Figured it was a good idea before tomorrow.”

“Good,” Rebecca replied.

It went without saying that there was something wrong. Rebecca had no reason to be there.

“Is everything…” Y/n shifted in her spot a little. She was skirting one of the professional lines she valued. “Alright?”

The moment the question hit the air, Rebecca’s facade cracked. The edges of her smile drooped ever so slightly and whatever faux cheeriness had been masking her eyes faded.

“Do you read many tabloids, Y/n?” Rebecca asked.

“Not actively, but,” Y/n answered, her eyes darting between the floor, the lamp, anywhere other than directly at Rebecca until absolutely necessary, “I see things.”

Rebecca knew, without asking, what headlines she was referring to.

“My ex-husband recently purchased West Ham United,” the woman began to explain, “He poached one of our coaches from last season and…” Rebecca shook her head from the ridiculousness of it all, “There was just a headline that…”

Y/n waited for her boss to find the words, knowing they probably wouldn’t come. Nor did they need to.

Rebecca inhaled, “I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me but…”

“Hey,” Y/n held up a hand, “There’s no judgement here.”

Rebecca gave a genuine smile, thankful for the understanding. “Well, we both need to get home and get some rest,” she said as she rose from her desk.

“We do,” Y/n was thankful the subject was shifting from personal matters, “Goodnight, Ms. Welton.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re going to call me that the entire season,” Rebecca sighed, half-laughing at the formality, “Rebecca.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but Y/n felt most comfortable with her barriers in place. However, going up against Rebecca was a fight she knew she’d lose.

“Alright,” Y/n conceded, the only time she planned on doing so, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Rebecca said in return.

That night, once she returned home and settled in bed with a cup of tea, Y/n did research on the enemy. Rupert Mannion, Rebecca’s ex-husband, had indeed purchased West Ham United at the end of last season. He’d gone one step further and hired Richmond’s old coach, Nathan Shelley. There was much speculation as to why the former kitman had left and why he’d chosen specifically to work for Rebecca’s ex. Several tabloids had framed the upcoming season as a battleground not only for the Greyhounds and Hammers, but the ex-spouses as well.

Y/n shut her laptop and rubbed at her eyes. She could uphold all the professional boundaries she liked, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t become a part of a deeply personal fight.

—————————

Come Monday morning, the parking lot at Nelson Road was packed.

Season training had begun.

Y/n had gotten in early, having stopped by Keeley’s office to pick some papers up, and had yet to cross paths with any of the Greyhounds or coaches. She wasn’t trying to avoid meeting them, but she also wasn’t actively seeking out the opportunity. There was safety in the isolation of her office with the only intruder being Higgins every once in a while.

It was around 10 when the first knock at the door came.

Y/n looked up from her desk to see Sam Obisanya standing in her doorway.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

“Yes,” Y/n answered with a small smile.

“Ah,” Sam took one step inside the office, “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. Sam-“

“Obisanya,” Y/n finished for him, rising from her desk to come and shake his hand, “I may not be a football fanatic, but I know your work.”

Sam laughed humbly, Y/n didn’t think there was such a thing until then.

“You’re very kind,” Sam let go of her hand, “I heard you were hired over our break and I wanted to be one of the first to say ‘welcome.’”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Obisanya,” Y/n replied, feeling genuinely touched.

“Please,” he smiled, “Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Y/n nodded, she was 0 for 2…

“Are you finding everything okay?” Sam asked.

Y/n glanced at the space around them, “Everything I need so far, yes.”

“Ah, good,” Sam grinned, “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s a lot to get used to.”

“Well, I’ll agree with you there,” Y/n chuckled, “But really, Sam, thank you. I genuinely look forward to getting to see you play this season.”

“Ah,” Sam’s hand briefly touched his chest, “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You as well,” Y/n replied as the midfielder headed back through her office door. Her Youtube observations had been correct; Sam Obisanya was as genuine off the pitch as he was on it.

A few moments after settling back at her desk, a second knock came.

“Hola, Ms. Y/n!”

Dani Rojas.

“Hi,” Y/n greeted, a little surprised, “You must be Mr. Rojas.”

“Dani, please,” the player grinned, “I wanted to come and officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n rose from her desk and crossed the room once again. “That’s very kind of you, D- oh!”

Dani had pulled her in for a hug and had practically lifted her off the ground. In any other case, Y/n would have slingshotted them both into the HR office, but she could tell his intentions were 100% pure.

“I hope you will be very happy working here with us,” Dani said, finally releasing Y/n from his arms, “It is like one big family.”

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide her dismay at the thought from someone who was the human embodiment of joy.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite content,” she replied politely, “And I look forward to seeing you play, Dani.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dani said, his grin hadn’t dropped half an inch since he’d arrived, “I look forward to getting to work with you.”

“You too, Dani,” Y/n nodded, “I hope you have a great day.”

“You as well,” Dani wished cheerily before exiting Y/n’s office.

Y/n stayed in the middle of the room a moment longer, trying to process the interaction. She was half sure that within the next thirty seconds, another Greyhound would come through her door.

She wasn’t wrong.

Five minutes after Dani, Colin Hughes and team captain Isaac Mcadoo showed up. While their greetings were less personal than Sam’s and they let Y/n stay on the ground, unlike Dani, they took their time to welcome her. Two minutes after them, Thierry Zoreaux swung by. Just as he was leaving, Jan Maas took his place. In and out, the Richmond players seemed to form a never ending stream of well wishes.

As Will, the team’s kitman, was on his way out from his introduction, Y/n decided answers were worth seeking.

“Can I ask,” she tapped her pen against her desk, “How did you guys even know I was here?”

“Oh, Coach Lasso told us,” Will answered plainly, “He wanted us each to stop by and introduce ourselves. See if you needed anything, officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n nodded, it all made sense now.

“Got it,” she politely smiled, “Well, thank you, Will. I definitely feel welcomed.

With a polite farewell, Will left Y/n on her own once more. She felt like locking the door just to ensure she could actually get some work done. She was pleased to know that the team she worked for wasn’t comprised of inconsiderate pricks, but their kindness had been more than overwhelming.

“Alright, Ted Lasso,” she mumbled to the empty room, “Message received.”

Itwas an hour later, after five more stop-bys by various Greyhounds, that Y/n escaped her office. She headed to the cafe to grab a tea before her morning meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She made it in and out without any more ambushes, and headed on her way to Rebecca’s office.

Just as her eye caught on one of the placards on the hallway wall, a door swung open at Y/n’s side. She froze as the emerging body nearly bumped into hers.

“Whoa,” the culprit said as they too stopped in their tracks.

Y/n awkwardly laughed as she held her tea in the air, trying to prevent a mess.

“Sorry, that was on me,” the man apologized as the door swung back into place.

“No, no,” Y/n exhaled, “It’s on me for not paying attention.”

The man breathed out a laugh as Y/n brought her arm back into her side.

“And nothing’s on anyone so,” Y/n gestured to her tea, “Could’ve been worse.”

Finally looking up at the man in front of her, Y/n recognized him instantly.

“You’re Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie pursed his lips and pointed a finger at Y/n, “And you’re the new girl? Keeley’s new hire?”

Y/n didn’t love the sound of her position being explained so casually. “Miss Jones hired me to do some work for Richmond, yes. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Ah,” Jamie nodded, attempting not to laugh at the formality, “Coach wanted us all to come by and introduce ourselves.”

“Well, you saved yourself a trip,” Y/n replied, somewhere between a polite and genuine smile.

Jamie chuckled, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. “Well, good to put a face to the name.”

Y/n nodded a little, “Same to you.”

“Right, well,” Jamie bent at the knees and flashed Y/n a smile, “See you ‘round, I guess.”

“See you around,” Y/n returned.

Without another word, Jamie and Y/n walked off down opposite ends of the hallway.

As she climbed the stairs up to Rebecca’s office, Y/n made a note that the Jamie Tartt she’d (quite literally) run into was, indeed, far different than the ill reputation he’d built for himself. He seemed perfectly pleasant, a little blunt, but polite nonetheless. It didn’t seem like the Greyhounds didn’t have any bad eggs.

Switching back to work mode, Y/n knocked on Rebecca’s semi-open door.

“Ah, come in, Y/n,” Rebecca quickly greeted.

Y/n walked in and saw that Higgins and Ted were already standing across from Rebecca’s desk.

“Hey, it’s the newest Greyhound,” Ted said cheerily.

“So sorry I’m late,” Y/n apologized, setting her purse and tea down on the coffee table. She was happy to bypass Ted’s greeting with nothing more than a polite smile.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Rebecca waved her concern off before turning back to the matter at hand, “As I was saying, everyone alive has picked Richmond to finish in 20th place this season.”

Y/n came to stand between Higgins and Ted.

“Except for the The Daily Mirror,” Higgins interjected, “Which has us finishing ‘twentyelf.’ An adorable but devastating typo.”

Ted hummed, “Okay. Well, you know what? I predict all their predictions ain’t gonna come true. So it looks like we got ourselves a prediction Mexican standoff,” Ted turned to Y/n and Higgins, “Or as they call them in Mexico, a prediction standoff.”

Y/n wondered if the man had an off button.

“Well, the worst part is they’ve picked Rupert to finish in the top four,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh.

“Rupert’s gonna play this year?” Ted asked in all seriousness.

“What?” Rebecca replied, “No.”

“You’re referring to West Ham United,” Y/n spoke up, trying to move the conversation along, “Correct?”

“Precisely,” Rebecca said, “Everyone thinks he’s better than us.”

“They,” Ted corrected his boss, “Everyone thinks they are better than us.”

Rebecca nodded a little too fast to be considered normal, “Yes, that’s what I said. They. So, what’s the plan? How are we going to beat him?”

Once again, Ted caught the error that Y/n knew was no error at all. “Them.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca replied.

“Oh, boy,” Ted said lowly.

“You know, this might be a good time for us to update our roster,” Higgins spoke up, “Put some more firepower in the team.”

Rebecca pointed towards Higgins, “That is an great idea, Leslie.”

“I agree,” Y/n threw in her support, thankful the conversation was moving back towards work, “Plenty of opportunity to make a big fuss over it, get people excited, pack the stands a little more.”

“Let’s put some feelers out, shall we?” Rebecca continued, glancing over to her manager, “Ted?”

“Well, I know Roy and Coach Beard are workin’ on some new tactics,” he answered, “And, you know, the fellas we already got are gelling real nice. I think we’re gonna do just fine this season.”

If Y/n could have measured the indignity on Rebecca’s face, she couldn’t have.

“Ted, this team doing ‘just fine’ is a far cry from you telling me we’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised just as Higgins exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“Did I really say that?” Ted asked, just as shocked.

“Yes, you did,” Rebecca’s voice raised an octave as she pointed towards her couch, “Over there after the Man City loss. Just before you blasted half a liter of Pellegrino in my face.”

The memory finally rang Ted’s bell, “Oh, right.”

“Wait, what happened?” Higgins confusedly asked.

Y/n nearly raised her pen to ask questions but decided against it.

“That,” Rebecca pointed towards Ted, “Is the Ted Lasso I want coaching my team this season. The one who’s willing to fight. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ted nodded, “You watch, from now on, I’ll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Except I won’t die immediately after using my stinger. I plan to float and sting for the entirety of the whole season.”

“Excellent,” Rebecca’s expression finally shifted and she looked to Y/n, “I apologize if we’ve thrown you into the deep end of our problems.”

Y/n held up a hand to signal there were no issues, but she was a little confused as to what the purpose of the meeting had been.

“I have a very important lunch meeting with one Miss Keeley Jones,” Rebecca continued as she collected her purse and came out from around her desk, “For some much needed girl talk.”

“Hey, tell her we said howdy and…” Ted wished before looking to Higgins.

“Yo,” Higgins added in a deep voice.

Rebecca looked to Y/n last.

“Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow,” Y/n added, still holding onto her binder.

“Okay,” Rebecca left out the door, off to the KJPR offices.

Y/n sighed as Ted and Higgins began to converse over the later’s out of character greeting.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted tapped her on the arm, “You settling in alright?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded, adjusting the waist of her skirt, “Very excited to get started.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to stop by if you need anything,” Ted smiled, missing the slight edge to Y/n’s words, “Or if you just wanna chat. Roy and Beard’d love to meet you.”

Y/n gave one more cordial nod before crossing the room to retrieve her belongings. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths at some point,” she replied, desperate to escape, “But I really do have a few things that need to get done. I’ll see you both later.”

With a trail of goodbyes from Ted and Higgins, Y/n vacated the office as quickly as she could without being too obvious. Not only did she feel it was a waste of a meeting to simply discuss the team’s standings, but no work had really been accomplished. She did, however, learn a great deal more about Rebecca’s mindset for the season than she’d set out to know.

When she returned to her office, Y/n shut the door and locked it. No more interruptions, no more distractions, she could do what she was here to do…her job. If the only way she could do that was by literally shutting Richmond out, so be it.

—————————

Much later in the day, Y/n took her second scheduled leave back up to Rebecca’s office. There was a West Ham press conference being held and Rebecca had requested her presence for the viewing. Something about PR strategies, but Y/n suspected she was partially valued as another essential piece in the takedown of Rupert Mannion.

She arrived just as Higgins was coming to stand behind Rebecca’s desk with her.

“Has it started?” Y/n asked as she crossed the room.

“Just about to,” Rebecca breathed, steel in her voice already.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Higgins made a point of asking.

“No, I don’t want to, Leslie,” Rebecca replied, as she loaded the stream link, “But it’s part of my job. I need to be ready to comment if Rupert were to say something snide about me or the team.”

Y/n came to stand on the other side of Rebecca, “I agree. Preparation isn’t always fun, but necessary.”

Rebecca blindly gestured to Y/n as she clicked away on her screen, she only looked up to glance out her window. “Where are they, by the way? Shouldn’t they be training now?”

Y/n peeked out the glass, she hadn’t noticed that the team was completely absent from the pitch. Odd for the first proper day of training.

“Oh,” Y/n said, coming to stand a little closer as the laptop screen changed, “It’s loading.”

Rebecca scooted her chair closer as the feed went live and a West Ham United backdrop became visible. Striding in from off camera came Rupert Mannion, calm, collected and charming.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome,” he announced, “Lovely to see you all, and thank you for selecting our humble little football club to do so well this season.”

As the press let out chuckles, Rebecca reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small pink box. Y/n watched as her boss pulled it open and angrily shoved a bite of a thick biscuit in her mouth.

“Twat,” Rebecca mumbled through a half-full mouth.

“The person you are here to see,” Rupert continued in a grandiose tone, “The Wonder Kid himself, our new manager, Nathan Shelley.”

Rebecca’s ex extended a hand towards his right and seconds later, Nathan and him exchanged places in the center of the room.

“Thank you,” Nathan smiled once he was seated, “Very nice to be here. I’m pretty sure I said ‘wunderkind.’”

Silence from the press.

“This is the same Nathan Shelley who was the kitman here,” Y/n said, half-asking, “Became assistant coach and then stole over to West Ham?”

“Yes,” Higgins answered as Rebecca was chewing, “Rather a hasty and heated exit.”

Y/n hummed in reply, nothing about the man struck her as particularly hasty or heated. The tabloids had painted a much different picture of the man. As Nathan stuttered over his answers, Y/n sensed nothing but a rather awkward humility.

She was proven terribly wrong over the next two minutes.

Nathan’s answers came quicker and were delivered with more confidence. At some point, they became biting. The sudden character shift felt like a reverse of Jamie Tartt’s, from the little Y/n had observed of both.

“Coach Shelley, regarding your old team, AFC Richmond,” one of the reporters began, “Any idea why everyone is expecting them to finish 20th this season?”

Y/n shifted in place as they awaited Nathan’s answer. Something about the smile that pulled at his cheeks just before he spoke unsettled her.

“Probably because there’s no 21st.”

If there was tension in the room before, it had just intensified tenfold.

“Meow,” Higgins commented.

Y/n turned to her co-worker, “Hasty and heated, you said?”

Before they could hear the next question, the Twitter alert on Y/n’s phone sounded from her jacket pocket. She’d set up alerts for the club, each Greyhound and the coaches. Pulling out her phone, the keyword ‘AFC Richmond’ was the first one she saw.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, no.”

Higgins tugged out his phone half a second later.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

Y/n and Higgins looked to one another, Higgins braving it and showing Rebecca his phone. Displayed on both their screens was a picture of the Greyhounds, led by Ted Lasso, climbing down a manhole into a sewer.

A PR nightmare.

Y/n distractedly looked up at Rebecca’s computer screen, still scrolling the tag. Someone had asked Nathan a question regarding the photo.

“Yeah, well, it makes sense,” Nathan answered, “They probably have to train in a sewer because their coach is so shitty.”

The press both gasped and laughed, each reporter’s eyes lighting up at the headline possibilities.

Rebecca slammed her laptop shut, fuming.

“Oh, boy,” Higgins broke the silence.

“Coach Lasso needs to address this,” Y/n spoke up, going into strategy mode, “Immediately. This is being turned into memes as we speak.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, pressing her hands together and to her lips in an effort to retain calm. “I will be speaking to him the second they are back,” she answered, before looking up to Y/n, “Come up with some potential response for the press conference.”

“Absolutely,” Y/n nodded, already out from behind Rebecca’s desk, “It’s best if the players don’t say anything either. Don’t give Coach Shelley any more ammunition.”

The day had officially turned and while Y/n had prayed for actual work to do, she hadn’t wanted it like this. Was this the gig? Digging Ted Lasso out of whatever absurd headlines his actions created? Combatting bitter ex-coaches?

Come 2:15, fifteen minutes before Ted’s press conference was scheduled to begin, Y/n gathered the notes she’d made and headed downstairs. She waited outside the press room until Ted came out of his office.

“Coach Lasso,” Y/n called, coming to walk alongside him, “The press are all ready for you but I think it’s important to address the matter of the picture trending on social media. The best strategy is not to stay on it too long, but don’t laugh it off. I wrote down a few responses that might be of use.”

By the time she’d finished, they were stood outside the press room once more.

“I appreciate it, Y/n,” Ted thanked her, “But I think I’m gonna Buffalo Wild this one.”

“You’re gonna-“ Y/n began to question the sentence before connecting her dots, biting down on her lip, “Wing it?”

“Exactly, Tom Clancy,” Ted smiled easily before heading in through the side door and leaving Y/n in the hallway.

With no one else around, Y/n took the opportunity to take a deep breath, throw her head back in frustration and scrunch up her face. Things were about to go from bad to worse.

After collecting herself, she rounded the corner of the hall and entered the press room through the back door. Rebecca was already waiting at the rear of the room.

“Did he take the suggestions?” Rebecca whispered as Ted began to speak.

Y/n inhaled deeply, “He did not.”

Side by side, the two women tried to contain their emotions and project confidence towards whatever was about to be said.

Though his ability lay in questionable standing, Y/n was surprised at how well Ted handled himself. The reporters and him had a rapport that Y/n shouldn’t have been shocked by. For all the comical flaws he possessed, Ted Lasso was likable. It wasn’t many coaches who would compliment a reporter on her new choice of hair color before she asked her question.

“Coach, how are you feeling about the unanimous opinion that Richmond will be relegated at the end of the season?”

“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” Ted replied, “Expectations for us are as low as a rattlesnake’s belly button, huh?”

A few chuckles and smiles from the press.

“But, hey, we got 38 chances to prove all them folks wrong though, right?” Ted continued, “Yeah. And my hopes are as high as a giraffe’s top hat. Next question. And if it’s ‘why is a giraffe wearing a top hat?’ Don’t ask me, man. Go ask a giraffe.”

Y/n felt like she was regaining the ability to breathe as the midwestern wit was accepted. Ted chose his next interrogator, Marcus Adeybo, who was clearly known but in a new position judging by the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the press room.

“Do you have any response to comments made earlier today by your former assistant coach, Nathan Shelley?” Marcus asked.

Y/n tightened her hold on her notebook, Rebecca pursed her lips. They waited with bated breath as Ted thought over his next words with great care.

“Uh, yes, I do. Yeah,” Ted began, pausing with a small smile before continuing, “I thought it was hilarious.”

Through her peripherals, Y/n could see Rebecca was less than pleased. She was thrown herself, but decided to wait for Ted’s full answer before reacting in full.

“I mean, he came and got us, didn’t he? No doubt about that,” Ted laughed, “Hey, but that’s Nate the Great for you, you know? He’s the same way on the pitch. He’ll find the tiniest weakness in a team and just wanna attack that, you know? I mean, he’s a junkyard dog, man. And smart. They’re real lucky to have him over there at West Ham. I wish him the best of luck.”

For all her schooling and experience, Y/n found herself watching Ted in pleasant surprise as he pulled out a strategy she never would have thought of.

“I guess I am a little surprised that’s all he could come up with,” Ted kept going, shrugging slightly, “Especially against me. You know, not one joke about me being a dumb American? Come on, man. It’s sittin’ there. I mean, I’m so dumb…”

Ted’s grin hung open as he waited for a reply to a joke that clearly only served on one continent.

“Y’all are supposed to say ‘how dumb are you?’” Ted helped them out. One reporter raised their hand, “Gary?”

“Why?”

“I-I mean, it’s just classic joke structure,” Ted answered, “Give it a shot. I mean, I’m so dumb…” he nodded towards another reporter, “Lloyd?”

“How dumb are you?”

“Okay, well,” Ted raised his voice loud enough for the room to hear, “I’m so dumb, that the first time I heard y’all talkin’ about Yorkshire pudding, I thought it was a fancy word y’all had for dog poop.”

A few laughs came quietly.

“I mean, I’m so dumb,” Ted continued, waiting for the next line. A slightly confused chorus of questioning his intellect followed.

“Yeah, okay, well, whenever I text someone over here about money, I still spell pounds L-B-S.”

Y/n allowed herself to smile, realizing that there had been no point in giving Ted any suggestions. He was far better on his own.

“Look, man, I’m not a great coach,” Ted shrugged, “Probably ain’t. You know, I’ve been doing this sport now for three years, and I still get a chuckle every time someone talks about a handball violation.”

Shaking her head as it happened, Rebecca nudged Y/n with her elbow and held up her phone. There was a text from Keeley.

Way to let Ted be Ted!

Quickly, Y/n pulled out her own phone and opened up Twitter. Sure enough, there were tweets pouring in under Ted’s name, filled with nothing but praise and ‘LOLs.’

“Yeah, and not one crack about my appearance?” Ted continued, “About this mustache? I look like Ned Flanders is doing cosplay as Ned Flanders.”

Finally, the whole press room was laughing. Even Rebecca had found her smile once again, reserved as it may be for the unconventional approach.

“When I talk it sounds like Dr. Phil hasn’t gone through puberty yet.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted.

“Yeah, I’m more corny than Kevin Costner’s outfield,” Ted waited for the joke to land, with no such reward, “Oh, I lost you on that one. Yeah. Field of Dreams? No?” Ted glanced to the back of the room and spotted Y/n who gave him a slight nod, signaling she understood it. “I guess y’all don’t really like baseball over here, so why would you like movies about it?”

Ted briefly bent down to check his phone, giving Y/n and Rebecca the chance to glance at one another. Rebecca sighed and Y/n shrugged with one hand, the wheels were entirely off and there was no point in trying to reattach them.

“Well, hey, how ‘bout this one?” Ted went on with a new strength, it seemed, “Regarding my panic attacks, I’ve had more psychotic episodes than Twin Peaks.”

The room filled with laughter again, including Ted’s.

“I mean, I’m so crazy…”

This time, both Rebecca and Y/n joined the reporters in asking just how crazy Ted Lasso was.

“There we go,” Ted said approvingly before continuing another round of self-depreciation.

As Y/n watched the room, and Twitter, sing Ted’s praises and reject Nathan Shelley, she made a mental note. No more notes on speaking to the press. Ted was aiming to kill with kindness, and she wasn’t planning to stand in his way.

Names and press conferences, the only things she planned to bend on.

—————————

By the end of the day, Ted was trending heavily and by association, so were the Greyhounds. The manhole picture had been thoroughly memed and it would take a week or two for the image to get lost in the Twitter-verse. Regardless of how good Ted was with the press, Y/n suspected there’d be several more sewer-type messes to clean up.

The sun was just setting as Y/n headed out to the parking lot. A few stray players had stayed late and were trailing out, most of whom she’d already met.

As Y/n searched through her bag for her keys, she heard a familiar voice wishing a teammate a good night. Jamie Tartt.

Y/n glanced up as the striker walked towards the car parked two spaces apart from hers.

“So tell me,” she called across the lot, “Do you guys save the sewer visits for special occasions or am I going to have to get used to doing this kind of damage control daily?”

Jamie chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Uh, yeah, that was a new one.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n’s smile was barely perceptible.

“Coach was tryin’ to teach us a lesson,” Jamie explained, standing at the boot of his car, “See, everyone’s got us finishin’ dead last, but we’re supposed to let that shit flow,” Jamie made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Like the canals in the sewers.”

Y/n’s tongue poked her cheek as she tried to understand the teaching moment.

“I know it sounds bizarre,” Jamie admitted, most of Ted’s methods sounded insane outside the Greyhound’s locker room, “But he had a point.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, before grabbing her keys, “Well, whether the shit was literal or metaphorical, you guys just made my job a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to fuckin’ go down there,” Jamie’s voice jumped an octave.

The two shared a laugh before moving to unlock each of their cars.

“I’ll see ya,” Jamie said with a smile.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Once she shut the door, she let her head hit the headrest. The day had felt like one big preview of how the season would go, and if it continued that way, Y/n was in for much more than she’d bargained for…

——

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 1

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

May 2019:

"And you’re sure you can handle it? I mean working here and college?" Peter Hastings was a nice, middle aged man, looking for a new nanny for his 6 year old son, Gabriel.

"I’ll wake him up at 7:15. Make breakfast and get him ready for school, drop him off at 8:30 and go to my classes. At 3 I’ll pick him up. Help him with his homework. Soccer on Monday and Wednesday. Piano lesson on Tuesday. Prepare dinner. Make him bed ready and then you’ll take over. Monday till Thursday. Fridays I’ll pick him up at 12. We’re going to the park, museum, zoo whatever. Have lunch and I’ll bring him home by 4, where you take over. And if you need a babysitter on the weekends, you’ll call me." Rachel repeated the schedule Mr. Hastings had presented her with, hoping he would hire her.

"Impressive. Well your report looks great, I understand why you’ve got a scholarship for the MCPHS. I’d say you’ve got the job." Mr. Hastings smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Sir! Really!"

"Gabriel liked you, you have strong ambitions. I think you’re perfect. Now let’s talk money, shall we?" he clapped his hands and Rachel nodded.

With a full scholarship and a well paid job that still gave her enough time for her studies, she could start saving up money to get the hell out of Woburn, after graduating from college with her nursing degree hopefully.

"I know this was not what you applied for, but I’ll ask anyways, if you say no, you’ll still keep your job starting in fall!" her new boss said and she looked up "My current nanny, well she left, family emergency, so I would need someone from now on, during the summer until you’ll take over at the end of August. I know, you just graduated and probably already planned your summer, but I thought I ask anyways. Again, feel free to say no, the job is yours regardless. It’s only one more month of school and then it’s… well a full day job, I’m off for the entire August, but before that I’m loaded with events here and there…"

"I’ll do it." Rachel said immediately, every reason to leave Woburn earlier was a good reason.

"Yeah? You sure? I mean like I said, you don’t have to!" Mr. Hastings said but the girl shook her head.

"No it’s fine. Really. I have nothing planned. And like this I can get used to Boston."

"You can stay here. Our old nanny has her own studio in the backyard. That way you don’t have to drive every morning from Woburn to here."

"Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to drive!"

"With traffic in the morning you’ll be in the car for an hour or longer. That’s ridiculous. Come on I’ll show you the studio. You could even stay there when you start college. Thinking back to my college times? The dorms weren’t the nicest place to stay." he laughed and got up, leading the young girl outside through the kitchen.

"I mean. I haven’t seen my dorm yet… but from what I’ve heard, yeah, not the nicest place to stay indeed."

The studio was clean and modern. A kitchenette, a table with two chairs. Sofa, TV and a bed. A little bathroom. It was definitely more quiet and private than any dorm at her college.

"Are you sure it’s okay?" the girl asked.

"100%. It’s yours if you want it. Free of charge. You just have to keep it clean yourself. And if you want to bring friends over, just give me a little heads up."

Free of charge. The money she would safe. Only paying the tuition fee. The rest of her scholarship could go into her savings as well. She could leave home earlier than planned. It couldn’t get better than this.

"I guess I’m moving in then."

November 2021:

Rachel always dreaded driving home. The rare occasions over the past 2 years where she had driven home were all proof why it was better to stay away. But something in her father’s voice when he asked her if she would come home for his birthday gave her the chills. When she parked her car in the driveway of her rundown childhood home, she felt the pit in her stomach grow. Calming down her nerves she opened up the door, walking inside. The house smelt rancid. A mix of liquor, smoke and bleach.

"Dad?" the girl walked inside the dark living room when suddenly the light got switched on. She flinched looking at the man sitting in the armchair facing her.

"If it’s not Miss Americana fresh off of college." Tony.

"Where’s my dad?" her voice not as strong as she hoped.

"Come." he got up and dragged her outside with him.

"Stop. Tony! Let go of me!" Rachel tried to get away from him.

"Get in the car. You can do it on your own or I’ll make you." his jaw clenched.

The girl got inside. Shaking.

"Where’s my dad?" she repeated.

"Your dad… he pissed off a lot of people… he was a capo once… but his drinking? Mamma Mia… he became useless the day your mother died… fallen from capo to soldato… and now? A shame really…" he sneered.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked with a shaking voice.

"Oh bella, you know I can’t tell you. Otherwise I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill such a pretty girl." he laughed and the girl swallowed hard "Just know that he owes a lot of people a lot of money…"

They drove to Winchester and the girl knew immediately where they were going.

"When was the last time you were here? When your mother died?" he asked, although he didn’t sound one bit empathetic "A long time ago… then again, it’s never a good sign if you have to go to Winchester… our family parties are usually held somewhere else…"

The driveway up the hill to the dark manor made Rachel’s insides churn.

"Get out." Tony parked the car and she did as told, following him inside.

"Oh Rachel! Mia bellissima ragazza! Look at you! What a beautiful, beautiful young lady! You should look for a girl like her, Anthony, not the skanks you’re going for." Rosaria Romano pulled Rachel in her arms, before kissing her cheeks "The last time I saw you was before you left for college and now look at you! You’re skinny! Don’t they feed you well at college? All the money they take and then not feeding their students? Che cavolo! You’re staying for dinner! Anthony, tell your father I’m feeding this sweet girl first, before he can talk to her!"

"Mamma! She’s not here to eat!" Tony grabbed the girls arm, but he shrugged away under the cold, hard gaze of his mother. He rolled his eyes, walking away, cursing in Italian.

"Now come, mia ragazza, you can help me with dinner." Rosaria lead her into the kitchen where already a handful of women were cooking away "Here, put that on. We don’t want your beautiful outfit to get stained with pomodori!"

The next hour Rachel cooked together with the ladies, told them about college and how her life was going. She knew all too well that she couldn’t tell them everything. Giving away too much was dangerous, so she lied mostly.

"And what about the boys at college? Someone special there for you?" nonna Viola asked right as Tony came back.

"She’s coming with me now." he grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her with him. A muscle ticked at his jaw. His hold on her arm made her whimper in pain.

"Anthony! You hurt her! Stop! Don’t make me swing my mattarello at you!" nonna Viola raised her rolling pin and Anthony let go of the girls arm "There you go, stupido!"

"Come." he glared at the girl who took off the apron, handing it Rosaria.

"When the men have finished whatever their having to talk about now, we’re finishing our conversation, Rachel." she smiled and Rachel nodded.

As she followed Tony down a long, dark hallway the bad feeling she had, since hearing her father’s voice on the phone earlier that day, only intensified.

When they stopped in front of a big oak door Tony pushed Rachel hard against it, caving her in. His nose rubbing down her cheek. His breath reeked of smoke and liquor.

"You won’t like what’s happening next and let me tell you, I understand you. But then again… mhhh look at you." he whispered in her ear, making the girl shudder "My mother wasn’t that wrong, I should go for a girl like you…"

"Anthony?" Don Vito’s cold voice rang out through the door.

"We’re here, papa!" Tony said with a sadistic grin.

"Bring her in then. We have a lot to do."

January 2022:

"Miss Lombardi? Miss Lombardi!" the screeching voice of Professor Cullers made Rachel flinch "Ah great. You are with us again… well, do you know the answer, to Miss Edwards question?"

"I- umm… I don’t. No." the girl looked at her professor "Sorry."

"Maybe stop daydreaming then and start listening to what I’m teaching you."

"Yes, ma’am." she nodded.

The rest of the class Rachel kept writing down everything Professor Cullers said, listening carefully and when the bell rang she was one of the last to leave.

"What’s going on with you?" Stuart asked, waiting at the door for her.

"What do you mean?" they walked side by side to their next course.

"You’re absent. Pretty often. For weeks now…"

"It’s nothing. I’m fine. I promise." Rachel faked a smile and Stuart sighed.

"Ok, cut the crap. What’s going on? Since you left for your father’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, you’re acting strange… what happened at home Rachel?" he looked at her and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

Stuart was the only friend she made in college, he didn’t talk much, but there was a sense of understanding between the two after she accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a stranger behind the cafeteria one day. Rachel since knew that their backstory was similar and that he broke off all ties to his old life. He would understand her, if she told him what happened. But then again, she knew that she might endanger him if she told him too much.

"How hard was it? Leaving everything behind? Cutting off all ties to your family?" she asked instead and Stuart contemplated his answer for a moment.

"It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I had to do it, so I powered through…"

"But I mean… how did you do it? Where did you get your new identity from? What happened to your old one?" the blonde girl pressed.

"I know a guy who knows a guy… but it costs a lot… also, starting a new life somewhere new isn’t for free either."

Rachel thought for a second, all the money she saved from her scholarship so far, because she only had to pay for the tuition fee and work materials. All the money she saved from working for Peter, which she barely had touched. It was a nice little sum and should keep her afloat for a while.

"Why are you asking me all this? What happened?" Stuart asked again and Rachel sighed "You can tell me, Rach. Nothing you can say will scare me away… I know how you grew up… I know how it is… so come on, tell me."

"I need to leave. Like for real… I always planned on moving to Boston after college, but they won’t let me… I only have time after graduation and then my old life will catch up with me again… I will be pulled into this mess that my life is if I don’t run away." Rachel almost whispered and her friend looked at her wide eyed "They wanted me to leave college immediately but I managed to convince them that a nurse with a degree and all qualifications is more helpful, more useful for them, so they agreed, but as soon as I graduate they will take me back to Woburn or rather Winchester… I can’t go back, Stuart…"

"And you shouldn’t have to go back, but Rach this is a dangerous thing to do? Killing off your old self, start a new life… it’s going to cost you more than just money…" Stuart said and Rachel nodded.

"I’m willing to do whatever it takes…" the young girl said determined.

"Then I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy…"

"Everything is better than staying here…"

"I need to make a few calls, then we’ll see." Stuart smiled at her.

"Thanks Stu. You’re a good friend." Rachel squeezed his hand.

"I’m currently your only friend… so that’s that."

"True…"

April 2022:

"Rachel? There’s a letter for you!"

"Thanks, Peter!" the girl took the letter from the counter, while stirring the pasta sauce "Waterman and Krieger? What is that?" she asked when she saw the sender of the letter.

"They’re a law firm. Inheritance law if I’m not mistaken." Peter looked up from his newspaper.

"Inheritance law?" Rachel ripped the envelope open, unfolding the letter. She went silent, staring at the letter, the pasta sauce bubbling.

"Rach? Hey? Rach?" Peter grabbed the sauce pan and shoved it off the stove top "What happened?" he looked at the girl worriedly.

"My- umm… my mom… she left me some money…" Rachel said slowly, looking at Peter "They write that mom set up a trust fund for me before her death. I have access to the money when I turn 21. Which is in three months."

"Oh wow…" Peter squeezed her shoulder "Do you need a moment? I can finish up dinner and I’ll send Gabe to get you when it’s ready?"

"Is that okay?" the brunette asked and he nodded "Thank you."

Back in her studio she looked at the letter and saw that there was also another smaller envelope inside. She knew the handwriting immediately.

My sweet Rachel,

when you read this letter it means I am no longer around to gift you with my last treasure.

Every money I earned from winning beauty pageants and later from working and that wasn’t needed, I put aside for you.

I know you’re a smart girl and every college would offer you a full scholarship, but just to make sure that if not, we have the money.

I never told your dad about this money, I was too afraid that he would use it. Your father is a great man and I love him dearly. But he’s surrounded himself with the wrong people, they poisoned his mind. And over time he had to drink more and more to forget what he had to do daily for Don Vito.

Please don’t tell him about the money. Keep it to yourself. It’s enough for a fresh start, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be by your side for longer. That I couldn’t give you the home that you deserved.

Promise me to live a good life. Go live your dreams. But please never forget that I love you, my little Miss Americana.

Love always,

Mom

Rachel leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. When her mother died, she felt lost, didn’t know how to move forward, didn’t know how to continue with her life. Her father lost himself in alcohol, maybe even drugs. He disappeared for days, just to be laid down on the front porch by some of the men he worked with and for Rachel to get him inside, making sure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. She knew what he was doing. She knew who he worked for. From the day she was born she was part of a world she never wanted to be in, as she later realised. Movies and pop culture didn’t do this life justice. It wasn’t glorious or mysterious. It was scary and dark. Where other kids her age went to school and made new friends Rachel always had to stick to the kids from the family. To make sure she wouldn’t spill anything about her father’s work. Her mother had to fight hard with her husband to allow her to take Rachel to beauty pageants, after the little girl watched her mother getting dolled up for numerous pageants herself and wanting to be just like her when she was older. Rachel was talented, just like her mother. Her beauty apparent from a young age and it didn’t take long for her to win her first pageant. She loved competing in pageants. But what she loved even more was the time she spent with her mother. She was always so carefree and happy at the contests, a stark contrast to her usually quiet and almost depressed personality at home. She was always trying to not show Rachel how sad and worried she really was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and Rachel had asked her more than once what was going on and why she was so sad.

"It’s nothing, my little Miss Americana, grown up stuff, nothing to worry about for you, my pretty girl." she had always said, followed by a kiss on Rachel’s forehead and a "I love you, my Rachel."

But with every year she got older she figured out more and more why her mother was so sad. And why the only times she was happy, careless and free, was when they went to pageants together. Because for a short while she could forget in what danger she was living with her daughter. What her husband did for a living. And the fear of the day where she, or worse Rachel, would have to pay the price of her husband’s job.

Ultimately she paid the price. After Rachel won the Miss Teen USA pageant in September 2016, and she had floated on cloud 9, her mother decided she deserved a treat and on the way home from Boston, where the pageant was held, she stopped at a little diner.

Rachel remembered how her mother ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries, she herself got a chocolate milkshake and fries and as soon as their food had arrived her mother looked around, a big grin on her lips before she nodded.

"No one’s watching… go!" she chimed and began dipping her fries into her milkshake.

Rachel laughed but did the same. Her father was always grossed out when his wife and daughter did that, laughing at them for their craziness, saying they better watch out or the food police would arrest them.

They were so happy that evening, her mother saying a million times how proud she was of her and what amazing and exciting times were ahead now for Rachel. But that happiness was gone in an instant when 2 men entered the dinner and her mother’s face turned to stone. She stopped laughing and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. To not draw any attention to them she silently held up her hand when the waitress looked over to them, signalling for her to come over. Paying in silence Rachel’s mother took her by the hand, guiding her outside, back into the car where she locked to doors immediately, starting the engine. She remembered how her mother called her father, telling him that two of Volkov’s men were at the diner. But before she could say anything she looked into the rear view mirror, her face turning pale when she told her husband that they were being followed. It didn’t take long for her mother to speed down the main road leading into Woburn, faster than ever before in her entire life. On speaker Rachel’s father telling her that their men were already on the way. But it was too late. She felt her mother grab onto her hand, clutching it tightly in her own, when the car was hit with something and soared through the air. She closed her eyes, holding onto the grab handle, listening to the sounds around her, when a searing pain shot through her left thigh. The pain was mind numbing and she tried her best to not focus on it. She tried to listen to the sounds around her but after a short while she only heard her own blood rushing into her ears. Then she felt her mother squeezing her hand and she opened her eyes, her first look was on the bright digital watch in the dashboard, then her mother squeezed her hand again and Rachel turned her head a little, looking at her.

"I’m so sorry, my beautiful Rachel. I love you so much." her final words as Rachel later had to find out.

After that night her father was never the same again. After that night Rachel was never the same again. She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors all confident that with the right care the wound on her right thigh, caused by an open break of her femur, would heal without leaving a big scar, so she could still compete in beauty pageants. But to her it didn’t matter. Without her mother she didn’t plan on continuing. And because of her not responding to any of the calls, mails or letters from the Miss Teen USA committee, regarding her upcoming tour through the United States, they stripped her off her title 6 weeks later, appointing her runner up, Caitlyn Summers, as new Miss Teen USA 2016.

Rachel absentmindedly rubbed her thigh, feeling the scarred skin through the thin fabric of her leggings. A reminder of the night that changed her life forever. That destroyed her life forever. She had to blink away tears, wiping her cheeks when Gabe knocked on the door, making her flinch.

"Rach! Dinner is ready!" his happy voice sounded through the door and the young girl cleared her throat.

"I’m coming in a minute Gabe!" she replied and listened to the sound of his steps on the gravel.

Rachel got up and looked into the mirror, wiping away the last remaining tears. It had been a while since she thought back to that night. The memories still too hurtful and real. After a minute of composure she followed Gabe back into the main house trying her best to not show the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

When Rachel went to bed that night she felt exhausted, drained, but also determined. Determined to escape her life in Woburn. Or Winchester. Escape her family. Live a happy life, just like her mother wanted her to. She would honour her mother’s last wish, give her all to do so. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - and that’s it. First chapter done. I tried something new this time, writing this story from a third-person perspective and also switching between Miss Americana/The Heartbreak Prince centred chapters. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! 🩷💜

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Kiss Me First

masterlist

summary: you keep a student after class to work on their late english homework, but coach teague wants his star quarterback at practice

paring: jason teague x female teacher!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: reader’s last name is smith (simply because it looks better than ‘miss.y/l/n’), absolutely no spoilers for smallville so if you haven’t watched it that’s okay

author’s note: just some jason teague fluff because i haven’t seen any on here and that makes me sad

Being the 12th grade English teacher and dating the football coach had quite a few perks - a quiet office to make out in, carpooling to and from the school, and most of all getting to spend so much quality time together. But, you and Jason butted heads when it came to the importance of actual school. Jason insisted that his football players didn’t need great grades, they should focus on the sport instead. Obviously, you disagreed. So, that ended you here; a student of yours, Clark Kent, had four late assignments. Instead of giving him four poor grades, you offered he could make it up by working on the assignments after class. He agreed and was now thirty minutes late to football practice.

“Y/n! You’re the teacher keeping Clark after class?” Jason asked when he walked into the classroom. “He’s the quarterback for fuck’s sake!”

“First off, we’re on school property and there’s a student in the room; watch your language. Second, hello honey, how’s your day going?” You smiled, not looking away from the papers you were grading.

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes, “My day’s going fine,” he grumbled. “Especially lunch, whew! God, the most beautiful woman surprised me in my office and we-”

“Okay!” You turned on your chair and looked at him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I knew that would get your attention,” he replied and walked up to your desk. “Seriously, though, can Clark please come to practice?”

“Jason! C’mon the kid’s gonna fail this class!”

“I’m gonna fail?” Clark exclaimed from the desk he sat at near the back of the room.

“You will if you keep this up!” you replied. “Football is not as important as grades, Mr.Kent.”

“Don’t listen to Miss Smith here.” Jason shook his head. “Football is way more important than any English paper.”

You groaned loudly and put your face in your hands. “You’re an idiot Coach Teague. And I’m not forcing Clark to be here. I’m grading three week’s worth of homework over the weekend, if he doesn’t get these assignments in by the time I leave here, it’s an automatic zero. Shouldn’t take him more than two hours overall.”

“Please?” Jason pouted. He bent down and kissed you. “We’ve got a big game next week, the team needs to practice as a team!”

“Jason, I love you, but I can’t in good conscience let this kid fail my class this semester!”

“I love you more,” he mumbled and kissed you again.

He turned to walk back out but you gripped his hand and stopped him.

“Clark, I’ll give you another extension for these assignments,” you told him, Jason smiled widely.

“Thank you, Miss Smith,” Clark replied before throwing his things in his backpack.

“They’ll be due Monday, okay?” you asked, he nodded and thanked you again before leaving the room.

“Thanks, hun,” Jason said. He once again turned to leave but again you stopped him.

“Oh, don’t think for a second you’re getting off that easy, mister!”

“Sweetheart, I love you but I really gotta go!”

“Kiss me first?” you asked, flashing puppy dog eyes that made it impossible for him to say no. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you; your hands roaming up his chest and resting on the back of his neck as your fingers played with his hair.

“God, I love you so fucking much!” he whispered against your lips. “So goddamn much!” His hands roamed down your back and rested on your ass, squeezing it gently. “You’ve got such a perfect ass, honey, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah this one guy keeps telling me!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s got these beautiful green eyes that turn into a shade of brown when the lighting is dim, an adorable nose, and an array of freckles painting his overall perfect face.”

“Painting? You really are a writer,” he mumbled and kept kissing you so you couldn’t protest his comment.

“God he’s got the most perfect lips, too!” you smiled. “They’re perpetually this gorgeous shade of musty pink-”

“Are you gonna keep talking or can we make-out properly?”

“Don’t even get me started on that voice of his, good fucking lord!” You kissed down his neck then back up to his cheek. “And when he smiles he gets these little eye-wrinkles right here.” You kissed his eye wrinkles as his smile deepened.

“Okay, now you’re making me blush sweetheart.”

“Awe, are you worried all your big, tough athletes out there are gonna see you all smiling and blushing?” You teased him.

“Nah, they all know you make me crazy,” he said quietly and kissed you again. “I really better go before they come looking for me though.”

“Mkay, I love you,” you replied as he broke away.

“I love you too, and I’ll be back here to take you home in,” he checked his watch as he walked toward the door, “one hour and twenty-four minutes.” He smirked and pointed at you as he entered the hallway and said, “I love you!” With that he jogged away.

The realization slowly set in that you really let Clark walk out when he was nearly one month behind on homework.

“God fucking damn it,” you groaned and you slumped back down into your chair; shaking your head with a slight smile.

[sooinbloom]

Bookstore Kisses

pairing: kyungsoo x you

genre: established relationship, married couple, fluff

word count: 1,804

description: wednesday night is date night for you and kyungsoo. tonight, after you beg him to venture into a bookstore, he decides to show you his affection in a way he never has before.

author’s note: hi! this is just a random idea I got while in a bookstore a few months ago. I found it hanging around in my drafts and decided to publish it. also, the photo above inspired the rest… the man looks so good in a cap and glasses. what can I say?! i’m trying out a new writing style, so I hope you enjoy it. sorry, this isnt edited lol (:

- Aria

“Hey, love.” Kyungsoo says as he shuffles into the room, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “How was your day?”

“It was good, a lot of meetings but I’m very happy the day is over. How was your day?” I ask, looking up at my husband.

“Same stuff, different day. I had to tear Baekhyun away from our boss again. Something about the London account again.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and loosens his tie, “at least today is my favorite day of the week.”

“Date night!” I nod excitedly.

“Yes, baby. How about we go see a movie? We can see that one you’ve been telling me about… The cheesy romcom that you won’t shut up about with your friends?”

“Hey! Hey! Do I call your movies cheesy?” I poke Kyungsoo’s chest as he chuckles to himself.

“No, because I have actual taste.”

“Wooooow this is how you want to start date night? I see how it is!” We laugh together, one thing we never agreed on is our movie tastes. Sometimes we just enjoy the banter, other times it gets serious and hours long debates ensue over which franchise was better or which classic film was better than the other. Tonight was a bantering kind of night.

 “Oh, baby, you’re lucky I’m tired tonight. Let’s go watch the movie and then grab some dinner afterward at the Thai place we like?”

“Sounds like a plan! Let me get ready.” I get up from my chair and walk over to my closet, trying to find a cute, yet practical outfit.

Wednesday nights became my favorite night of the week. We regarded Wednesday nights as almost sacred because it was the only day of the week that we weren’t exhausted from our bleak, demanding corporate jobs. The day of the week where phone gets tucked away and the only communication we have is with each other.

Fridays were too busy for Kyungsoo, given he’s now an executive as his firm. Mondays and Tuesdays were my long days because no one can get their shit together in my office at the beginning of the week. Thursdays just weren’t good for either of us because one of us ended up working overtime and weekends were reserved for decompressing, binge watching TV and much needed naps from being exhausted throughout the week.

Wednesday became special. Wednesday became ours.

After deciding on a casual outfit, I get dressed and meet my husband in the living room as he checks showtimes on his phone. I smile to myself, he’s looking rather comfy in his joggers, hoodie and sneakers, in all black of course. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grabs his All England Techno Club cap, standing and looking in my direction.

“Beautiful.” He manages between his smile, “ready?”

“Let’s go!” I take his hand and grab my purse from the hook by the door. It’s amazing how to this day, every Wednesday feels like our first date.

Kyungsoo cried during the movie.

I didn’t say a word, but I’ll definitely keep this in my back pocket for a more convenient time. We talked about the plot over the best Thai food in town, the same place we’ve gone since we started dating. Years have past and the owners still remember our really awkward first date. Sitting in the restaurant made me smile, all of the memories that were contained in this place, it’s special.

Once we’re done eating, we start strolling downtown, hand in hand. A certain building captures my attention and I stop walking.

“Oooo! Let’s go in the bookstore!”

“Mmmm.” Kyungsoo whines. I stop and turn to face him, pouting my lip.

“Please, please, please?” I beg.

“Okay, love, let’s go.”

“Yes!” I giddily reply.

“How lucky you are that I can’t say no to you, love.” Kyungsoo mutters in my ear as we enter the store.

I walk through the fiction section and glance across the aisle to the culinary section. My heart melted seeing my adorable husband in his cap and glasses reading an Italian cookbook. He never understood why I called him cute, but this is exactly why. His small pout as he studied the contents of the book and flipped the pages excitedly. His silver ring caught the light just so, little moments like this remind me why I married him. He’s my calm, my center of gravity, my home. I turn and pick a book up from the shelf, reading the summary on the back.

“Anything interest you, babe?” Kyungsoo appears next to me. I grin happily and nod my head.

“It’s a novel I’ve been wanting for awhile. O Beautiful by Jung Yun.” Kyungsoo opens his hands and motions his fingers toward me. I slide the book in his hand and he places it at his side. Kyungsoo takes my hand and laces our fingers together, staring intently at the shelf in front of us. He turns toward me and nods, returning his gaze to the shelf. He’d been working hard and his way of spoiling me was buying me books. He never allowed me to protest or say no. He’d just grab the book, keep it at his side and not allow me to argue that he was buying it for me. His wide eyes scan the shelves, not once did he seem remotely interested in a novel.

“Anything interest you?” I ask.

“Not one thing.” We chuckle softly and Kyungsoo pulls me to the corner of the book section. His shy gaze meets mine and he covers our faces with the book, brushing his lips on mine.

“What was that for?” I blush.

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” He smirks. This isn’t like Kyungsoo, he’s not the kind of guy that likes PDA. Just the thought of getting caught doing something more than holding hands in public deterred him. We walked the shelves full of colorful book spines, venturing to the mid section of the store where the biographies sat. A David Sedaris novel I read in university sticks out to me. Kyungsoo tilts his head with squinted eyes. “Me Talk Pretty One Day? That doesn’t make sense.”

I giggle to myself and skim through the pages, “That’s the point, the author had a speech impediment and these essays are from his experiences going to speech therapy; and what life was like when he was a child. It truly is hilarious. Sad, but hilarious.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head and shoots me a playful look as he disappears in the romance section. I put the book back and shuffle after him, in his hands the novel Twisted Games by Ana Huang. He skims the pages quickly and eyes me carefully.

Oh no.

He’s on chapter 36.

The spiciest chapter in the whole book.

His cheeks bloom a soft pink, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I understand why you were so flushed when I saw reading this.” He mutters. “Is this what you want?”

“H-Huh?”

“This book. Is this what you want?” Kyungsoo asks lowly.

“I own this book, Soo.” I reply carefully. He walks behind me and brings his arms around me, the book in front of me. His finger points out a sentence that makes me embarrassed to know that he saw with his own eyes.

“That wasn’t what I’m asking. Do you want what’s in this book?” Oh, boy. I fumble over my words and try to answer in the most in-public appropriate way. Kyungsoo closes the book with a laugh and hugs me close as he places it back on the shelf. “You’re so cute, Jagi.”

I turn and push his shoulder. “Kyungsoo! How is embarrassing your wife in public funny! You…” He pulls me in for a kiss with his laugh still trailing on his lips. We’re tucked away in a corner, only the books on the shelves can see what we’re doing. Kyungsoo proudly steps back and leaves a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re so cruel, Mrs. Doh. Hitting your poor, hardworking, defenseless husband like that.”

I shake my head and allow Kyungsoo to lead me upstairs to the travel section. He busies himself with a book on European travel, occasionally gazing up at me. A book on Korea caught my attention and I thumb through the pages of beautiful scenery, places Kyungsoo had told me about so often. Our jobs both had us leave our beloved countries in favor of job promotions, but The US never felt like home for either of us.

“Soo?” I whisper. His curious eyes always get bigger at the sound of his name being called, standing at full attention. I show him the pages of Seoul and his whole face lights up. “I think we should save to go to Korea. You’ve been missing home, and your mom has been begging us for months now.”

“Really? You want to go to Korea?”

“Of course, baby. It’s where you’re from. It’s part of who you are. Plus, my Korean could use some work.”

“Let’s do it, we’ll go in the spring. It will be nice to show you where I’m from.” Kyungsoo closes his book and kisses my free hand. “Every day you remind me why I’m so happy to be married to you. Even after all this time.”

“I still have no idea why you wanted to marry me.” I chuckle as Kyungsoo takes the book, holds it in front of our faces and leaves a few gentle kisses on my cheeks, nose and lips.

“Because you are like your favorite books. Beautiful on the outside, intriguing and intricately gorgeous with passion between each line. You keep my attention. You soothe me. You make me smile at the end of every day. That’s a big deal.” He softly replies, leaving a needy kiss on my lips. “You make me do things I would’ve never done with anyone else.”

“Like kissing me in corners of a bookstore?” I smirk. Kyungsoo nods and presses himself against the wall, his arms pulling me against his chest.

“Yes. Like kissing you in corners of a bookstore.” Once I feel the temperature heat up between us, I snatch the novel he’s holding from his hands and grab his hand to drag him toward the checkout counter. “Babe! Slow down!”

“After you said all that? No way. Buy me this novel and let’s go home. We have… Things to do.” I stumble through my sentence and narrow my eyes at my hysterical husband. “What?!”

“Nothing. I just love you. And all of the things we need to do.” Kyungsoo emphasizes “things” and takes his wallet out of his pocket. He purchases the book and we dart out of the store, laughing together. The workers must think we’re crazy, but we don’t care.

Wednesdays are our nights.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: 6a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 4285

TW: Idiots in love; angst; smut (PiV, protected; mild mentions of oral sex). 18+ only.

AN: The prompt was "So...what are we now?"

In the list of all the bad decisions you’d made in your life, sleeping with opposing counsel ranked right near the top.  At the very top?  Sleeping with opposing counsel – twice – without protection.

When you woke up the following morning and found Barba long gone, it had taken exactly two seconds for an icy fear to wash over you.  You doubted you’d end up pregnant, the timing didn’t seem likely, but you still got dressed and half-walked, half-sprinted to the nearest pharmacy for a healthy dose of Plan B.  You took it and spent the rest of the weekend feeling cranky, nauseous, and headachy.

Exactly the right frame of mind to write up your motions to reopen a handful of cases that Rudnick had touched as the medical examiner.  If Barba hadn’t fled in the morning like a guilty criminal, you might feel worse to be raining hell down on the District Attorney’s office.  You knew that if it wasn’t you, though, it’d be someone else.  The sharks were circling. 

It may as well be the scrappy, underfed public defender shark instead of a sleek or overfed Calhoun or Buchanan.

********

Barba didn’t see you for a few days.  He spent the weekend lying low and feeling guilty, and when his guilt eased up, he thought about how you had looked when you had rode him early that morning.  Then the guilt returned threefold.  In retrospect, he was pretty certain that you’d been sober enough to consent, especially for the second round, which made him feel worse for fleeing.

It wasn’t until the very early hours of Monday morning that he woke up with a gasp, the realization of what he’d done truly sinking in.  He’d had sex with you twice without protection, and he had no clue if you were on the pill or not.   

His forehead broke out in a fine sheen of sweat as he considered the implications.  He was probably fine.  Probably.  But what if he – and you – weren’t fine?  He’d only ever had one close call before when he was much younger.  Logistically, he was in a much better place to handle an unplanned pregnancy…his mind reeled, and he felt himself get stuck in a ruminative cycle of thinking, worrying over the same point over and over:  what if he’d gotten you pregnant?

He saw you the following Wednesday, and you looked too stern to be pregnant.  You were coming out of the floor that held the Clerk of Courts, and when you saw Barba, your stern look turned to one that was positively predatory.

The fact that you were carrying a wide, stretched out accordion file – now empty – made his stomach sink even further.

You looked like you were just going to walk past him without a word, but he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few days.  He turned and fell in beside you, and he laid a gentle hand on your elbow.  “Can I have a word, counselor?” he asked.

You jerked your elbow out of his hand, but he stuck by your side and matched you step for step, so you finally huffed and stopped walking.  “Fine,” you snapped.  You looked around and then gestured towards the stairwell.  “Come on.”

He followed you, and once the heavy fire door slammed behind him, you turned to face him. 

“I want to apologize,” he started, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t bother.  Anything else?”  When he didn’t answer right away, you went to step past him.  As you reached for the door, he stopped you by laying a hand on your outstretched arm.

“Are we…okay?” he asked.

You tilted your head.  “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

He exhaled a heavy breath through his nose.  “I mean, we didn’t use protection.”

You looked at him a long minute.  “It’s fine.  I took my body-weight in Plan B, and I have a clean bill of health.”  You smirked and added, “compassion isn’t sexually transmitted, so you’re safe.”

He bit back a smile that threatened to cross his face.  “Thank god.  I’d hate to have the urge to hug criminals.”

You didn’t seem to feel a compunction to smile at him.  Instead, you stared at him another moment, and to break the silence, Barba tried to apologize again.

“I said not to bother,” you reminded him.  “Besides, I got my revenge.”

“How so?”

You held up the empty folder with that vulturine grin, all teeth like some sort of predator.  “You ever see the movie ‘Groundhog Day’?  How would you and your office like to relive some of your greatest hits?”

He inhaled sharply.  “You filed a motion to reopen a case?  Which one?”

Your smile widened.  “Which ones is the better question.”

“How dare you…”

“How dare Carl Rudnick,” you snapped, talking over him.  “I have to go.  You should probably go too.  You have some work to do, Mr. Barba.”

Then you stepped past him and shoved open the stairwell door, and while his temper was stoked to a heated pitch, his gaze still slipped down to watch your ass as you marched away from him.

********

You had filed four motions, and all four were granted.  Two were pleaded down with both clients out immediately on time already served.  Another had his conviction completely overturned once an outside lab handled the testing.  The fourth would go back to trial, but without the “expert” testimony of Rudnick, everything else was circumstantial.  And now you could play the sympathetic, unjustly convicted card with the jury.

And you had been right – your four were just the beginning of a rapidly cresting wave that was crashing around the District Attorney’s office. 

You did, ultimately, feel bad for Barba.  You saw him in the courthouse, and he looked positively haggard.  So did O’Dwyer and Callier and every other employee of the D.A.’s office.  It wasn’t their fault.  They were just reaping the bitter harvest of what a serial killing medical examiner had sowed.

The sting of Barba’s cowardly fleeing after your hookup lost its fire too. 

You were leaving a local precinct after meeting with a new client, and you glanced down at your watch.  It was late afternoon, when most people were wrapping up for the day, but you knew Barba would be in for a long night.  Maybe you could bring a peace offering.

His admin assistant was already gone by the time you got there, so you knocked on the door and waited for him to call you in.  When he did and when you entered his office, you didn’t miss the slight smile he gave you.  He was sitting on his couch, with case files scattered beside him and on the ground in front of him.

“I come bearing gifts,” you said as you held up the coffee.  He stood up and gestured for you to sit as he shifted his paperwork off of the spot beside him.  Then he took the coffee from you with a murmured thanks.

He took a sip and groaned at it – you’d sprung for the good stuff, since a man with such nice suits would never settle for a Starbucks blonde roast.  “This in no way makes up for all the motions you’ve filed,” he said. 

“I filed four.  I heard Calhoun filed more than that.”

He groaned again, this time in pain.  “Yeah, she filed more than twenty.  Rudnick worked on a lot of cases.  And this doesn’t even count the internal investigation in other cases that Rudnick ruled as suicide or accidental deaths.  The state is re-opening everything to make sure nothing untoward slipped through.”

“Long days?”

“And long nights, and long weekends.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Barba,” you said, and he glanced over at you.  His eyes had the bleary, blood-shot look of a man who’d been reading all day.

He snorted.  “Sure.  This is your revenge for me acting like an ass.”

“Someone else was going to file first,” you pointed out.  “I just got mine in before the avalanche.”

“Worked out for you.  You got one conviction completely overturned.”  He sipped his coffee.  “Quite a feather in a young lawyer’s cap.”

You heaved a sigh and turned to face him, tucking a leg under you on the couch.  “This isn’t about recognition for me, Barba.”

“It’s about hugs.”

There he was.  He had been a tired, pitiable specimen when you’d come into his office, slumped over a pile of cases that he thought had been closed.  But revived with strong Italian roast, he was back to his snarky, asshole self.  You should have gotten him a Starbucks after all.

“Look,” you said, and you held up a finger to start ticking off your points, all the reasons that the right to competent counsel was an important hallmark of American justice.  Before you could even start, though, he plunked his coffee down on the side table and was on you.  He laid his hand on the back of your head and pulled you toward him just as he was leaning closer to you.

“Let’s skip the arguing, just for today,” he said, and his eyes scanned your face for any emotion that might betray your disapproval or approval.  You nodded faintly, and he closed the gap between you.

His kiss was firm but his lips were as soft as you remembered.  And you’d thought about your evening together numerous times, too many times, so it didn’t take much to restoke that flame.  You tilted your head a bit and parted your lips, and he took advantage and slid his tongue into your mouth.  You could taste the bitter coffee on him, and beyond it, the familiar taste of him that brought you back to that night in your apartment.  It sent a bolt of uncomfortable desire straight to your core.

Maybe he could taste you too because he groaned into your mouth and pulled you closer to him.  It was an awkward angle on the couch.  Neither of you seemed willing to break the kiss, though, so you each adjusted by fractions, fumbling against each other.  You tried to pull him to you first, but he was stronger, and you found yourself straddling his lap.  Your pencil skirt strained against your thighs, and it was pushed up to an almost obscene height.

You ran your hands over his broad chest, and his own hands were on your waist, tugging your silk blouse from your waistband so that he could touch the bare skin of your back.  His tongue claimed your mouth, and it reminded you of the other ways he’d claimed you.  You rolled your hips against the growing bulge in his pants, and he groaned as he broke the kiss.

“We should stop,” he said.  His voice was a low growl that made you even wetter than you already were.

You wanted to point out that he started it, but you only nodded and tried to dismount.  His hands still held you fast though, his warm palms stoking the fire already burning in you.  You looked at him, confused, and his irises seemed even more of a brilliant green against the red rims of his eyelids.  You wriggled against him – not to turn him on, even though it made him inhale sharply – to try to climb off, but he moved one of his hands from your back to your head and pulled you back down to kiss him.

You broke away after a moment.  “Wait, do you want to stop?”  He shifted his head so that his mouth was near you ear.  You could feel his breath, heavy against you, and it sent a delicious shudder through you.

“Absolutely not,” he growled.  His hands drifted down to your hips, and he pulled you against him to drive home the point.  “I only said we should.”

Your voice was shaky with lust.  “Well, we don’t have protection, so we need too.”

He sighed against your ear, then pressed a gentle kiss on the hinge of your jaw.  You could feel the disappointment coming off of him in waves:  he was tired and over-worked, and he probably needed a release as much as you did.  You climbed off of him, and he didn’t stop you this time.

“Hey, wait,” he said.  He stood up and strode over to his desk, and he pulled open the middle drawer.  You heard him rifling through the junk – heard the rattle of loose coins, the rustling of paper.  “Here,” he said triumphantly, and you stood up and walked over to join him behind his desk. 

He held his hand out, a fistful of condoms in it. 

“You keep condoms in your desk, Barba?  Gross.”  You pulled a disgusted face at the implications.  “You having a lot of sex in here?”

His look of triumph twisted into concern when he saw your face.  “No, it’s not like that.  SVU hosted an enthusiastic consent seminar at Hudson University.  See?”  He tossed you one – one side of the wrapper had the NYPD logo.  “Rollins stuffed a bunch into my briefcase when I wasn’t looking.  I came back to my office and there was a whole pile in there.”

You snorted at the ridiculousness of an NYPD-branded condom.  “Nothing gets college kids horny like the police.”  You tossed it back at him, and he fumbled it.  He laid the entire handful on his desk and reached for you again.  He pulled you flush against him, and you could feel him still, mostly hard and growing harder by the moment.

“We don’t have to stop now,” he murmured.

“But we should, probably.”

“Probably.  This is a terrible idea,” he agreed.  He laid one hand on your ass, pulling you closer to him.  The other hand was on the back of your head, pulling your mouth back to his. 

You laid your own palms on his chest again, sliding them under his ludicrous suspenders.  “Nothing good can come of it.” 

“Yeah,” he huffed.  “You might get mad at me and dump a pile of work on my office.”

You pulled your head back and glared at him.  “I was mad because you fled my apartment like it was the scene of a crime, you…”

You caught his grin as he leaned forward and captured your mouth, cutting you off before you could build up any steam. 

It was a short distance from kissing to fucking.  Neither of you seemed to need any foreplay beyond what you’d already done, and you both seemed too desperate for the other’s touch.  He sat you on the edge of his desk, and then he unzipped himself and unrolled one of the NYPD-approved condoms onto his length. 

The only words you exchanged from that point was when he asked if you were sure, and you had smirked and told him that you enthusiastically consented to him fucking you.  He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart, and he stepped between them.  He stroked a lone finger against the fabric of your panties, growling at how soaked they were, and then he pushed the fabric to the side and pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He looked at you again, probably for signs of hesitation or reluctance, so you pulled him closer to you.  You reached down and grabbed his ass and drew him into you, loving the feel of fullness as he settled his full length into you.

Barba hissed something garbled, and he put a hand on the small of your back as he drove into you.  He reached down with his other hand and wrapped your left leg around his waist, and then he picked up the pace, fucking you steadily.  You wrapped your own arms around his shoulders, and he bent his head to bury it against your upper chest.  Your heart was pounding so hard that you were sure he could hear it.

You wrapped your other leg around him, helping him drive into you.  Every time he bottomed out, his pelvis ground against your clit, and your orgasm overtook you quickly.  You gave a low moan, tried to keep quiet in case anyone was around.  You could feel him shuddering against you with his own release, and you trembled against him as your vision was awash in white stars behind your eyelids.

“Jesus,” he muttered against you once he recovered, and he pulled out of you and turned away, oddly shy as he cleaned himself up as best as he could.  You slid off of the desk on shaky legs and straightened your own situation.  You smoothed out your skirt and tucked your blouse back in, and you tried to tuck the loose strands of hair behind your ears.

Then you turned to leave.  He caught your movement out of the corner of his eye.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, incredulous.

“Now you know how it feels, Barba.”  You walked carefully, your legs still a little weak, and reached the office door.

“Have a good night,” he called out.

“You too,” you replied, not even catching yourself until you caught his bark of laughter behind you.  You turned to look at him, and you shook a chiding finger at him. 

“That wasn’t me saying goodbye,” you said.  “You’re ordered to feel badly now.”

He held up his hands in surrender.  “You’re the boss,” he said, but he smirked as he said it.

********

Barba knew it was a terrible idea, hooking up with opposing counsel. 

On the other hand, the forbidden nature of it made it even hotter – and it was already pretty hot without any help.  Those pencil skirts you seemed to prefer made your ass look amazing, and when you put your feisty mouth to other purpose, it was enough to drive Barba wild.

You seemed to feel the same.  He caught you at least once openly ogling him.  He had been in a waistcoat with his sleeves rolled up, and he made a mental note to loosen up his clothing more around you. 

And in all the times you coupled, you reached for him first at least half of the time.  It definitely wasn’t one-sided.

It started with incidental hooking up.  You’d drop off some paperwork for him, he’d stop by your ridiculously small office to talk plea deal.  You’d handle business and then get to separate business. 

There was the time he bent you over your desk and fucked you from behind, savoring the sight of your ass as he plunged into you.  The time you knelt in front of him with a smile that was almost shy and showed him what your mouth could do.  The time he knelt in front of you and showed you the same.

That time had been especially memorable.  He had to go to arraignment after that, and he had given the judge the salient details of the charges with the taste of you still in his mouth.

There was even a feverish episode in the men’s room of the courthouse, after hours.  His office was being vacuumed by the custodial staff, so he had pulled you into the restroom and fucked you against the stall as he held one hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

From the incidental hooking up came a more essential sort of hooking up.  It started when he called you one night, lonely.  He truly just wanted to hear a friendly voice, even if the voice was usually giving him hell about his job.  But you had offered to come over, and even though Barba knew it was just a hook-up for you, he had jumped on the offer.

You’d been in a nice dress, and he had felt a sting of jealousy when he imagined you on a date, but you were with him then and there.  He had carried you to his room and taken his time with you, extending your time together. 

But you had still left afterwards.  Barba always tried to draw it out at the end, get you to stay a moment longer, but you were young and in excellent cardio health.  You got dressed lightning-fast and were out the door, leaving him sated and a little sad.

Another time, you called him.  You sounded tipsy over the phone, but by the time he got to Brooklyn, you were sober and a little sheepish about calling him.  He had wanted to take his time again, but you had begged him to just fuck you, so he did.  When you didn’t ask him to stay, he went ahead and left, but he made a point to kiss you gently and tell you goodbye this time.

He knew it was a terrible idea, falling for you.  He knew you had an armor around you that rivaled his own, and he had an idea what had caused it.  He tried, here and there, to chip away at it.  You seemed impervious though.

********

In college and even before that, you had an inkling that being a public defender would be draining work.  Everyone always talked about how it was thankless, the pay was low, the burnout potential high.  Public defenders were overworked with caseloads so heavy that they couldn’t give any single case the care and attention it deserved. 

You had no real idea how bad it’d be though.  It was thankless – cops hated to see you walk into their precincts. Clients tended to distrust you.  The public could be especially cruel when you were defending someone who was obviously guilty or observably violent.

Your life had settled into a dreary pattern, like a heavy lead sky hung over it.  Work dominated everything.  You slept poorly and ate poorly.  You went for training runs, and that’s all that counted for fun in your life.

You didn’t have anyone to really talk to.  Even if you’d still been with Sonny, you knew you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him.  You’d veered close to learning that lesson when you were still in collage.

Sarah and Chauncey were lawyers too, but they were in private practice and were always trying to lure you in with stories about less hours, less heartache, and more money.  Aside from them, you had no one.  Your own family had imploded a long time ago, and while you still talked to your dad, you purposely kept it light for him.

You could maybe talk to Barba.  He always gave you a hard time about wanting to heal the world with hugs, but you would bet that he’d understand if you wanted to talk.  Unfortunately, neither of you got much talking done – it was either squabbling over cases or sex.

Not that you’d ever complain about the latter – even if nothing good was going to come of your illicit liaisons with Barba.

-----

Barba was over at your apartment.  It was a Saturday night, you’d been in near tears about a new case collapsing on you, and you just needed…something.  It was becoming a habit for both of you to call the other when you needed a hook-up, and you wondered if sometimes the hooking up was just a reason to be with someone familiar.

You had called him, a little embarrassed as you always were to feel so weak.  He had rushed over.  Your mind had been reeling with your case, you were caught in circuitous thoughts about what to do, and your pulse had been racing.  All you wanted was something hard and fast, no talking. 

All you wanted was to feel something other than the panic that was rising from deep in you.

Barba had other ideas though.  You had reached for him, but he’d only pulled you into a hug.  You had kissed him hard, but he’d only kissed you back gently.

When you finally got him into your bedroom, he had been too leisurely.  Too insistent that he gaze into your eyes, which felt way too intimate for you.  Ultimately, the two of you had joined in a way that felt good – that was the thing with Barba.  Even when you were on completely different wavelengths, it was still good.

Afterwards, though…he tried to cuddle up against you.  Worse than that, he tried to talk.

“So…what are we now?” he asked.  He looked at you with those bright green eyes.

You knew as soon as it was out of your mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.  A hurtful thing to say.  In the days that would follow, you’d do a lot of soul-searching to try and understand why you had said it.  Barba was a good man, possible even a great one, but you didn’t treat him well in that moment. 

You snorted at the question.  “We’re opposing counselors who occasionally hate-fuck each other for release.”

The look on his face would bother you for a long while afterwards.  The faint hopefulness on his face when he asked the question disappeared, and it was replaced by a stony mask.  “This is hateful to you?” he asked.

And you took too long to reply, so he got up without a word and got dressed.  You stammered out something nonsensical about hooking up, tried to make a joke, but it was too late.  You can’t un-ring a bell, and you couldn’t pull back those hateful, disappointing words.  You felt an immediate shame at what you’d done.

“Hey,” you tried to say as you pulled a blanket around your naked form and followed him out of the bedroom.

He only looked at you once as he pulled on his coat and left.  The look in his eyes was pure hurt.