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wardenparker · 2 years

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You’re So Vain - Chapter 2

Dieter Bravo x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

Rating: Teen. But this blog is *always* 18+ Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, family hardships, mention of age gap, medical debt, financial problems. Summary: You are nothing like Libby or Dieter could possibly expect - but it turns out that Dieter might be like entirely like you expected, either. Notes: When we conceived this particular soulmate pairing, *this* was the chapter we talked about, and I’m so excited to see what you guys think as we start to dig into the story!

Ch 1

The ringing of the phone is never the way that Dieter likes waking up. His head popping up from the mountain of pillows that he was using to try to block the fucking sun out of his face and peering around with one eye open. Groaning when the ringtone "Little Red Corvette" blares again and he grapples for the device. Hitting the answer button and holding it near his head. "What the fuck, Libby? It's seven." He huffs into the phone, not even bothering to greet his manager. It's too early for niceties.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Libby is already three coffees deep and sitting in her office surrounded by a mountain of paperwork that she's spent the last two days negotiating after a previous two days of authentication, and it's finally time to deliver the news. "Get up and get yourself presentable, Dee. We found your soulmate!"

"What?" Dieter hadn't honestly expected them to find whoever it is. "Who? I mean, are you sure? You verified it? It's not some fucking crazy fan who tattooed my shit on their body?"

"We verified and authenticated everything." She promises him, noting the interest in his voice and the small note of what might be hope. "She's got all your ink, of course, but also the scar on your leg. Apparently, she got it learning to shave her legs when she was a teenager." Libby chuckles. "We all had an incident like that. It checks out. So, get up and take a shower and put on your best, because she's just an hour away in San Juan Capistrano."

"She?" It honestly intrigued him over the years, whether his soulmate was a woman or a man. He's had plenty of liaisons and romantic interludes with both. "I— so close?" He asks, shaking off the fog of sleep and sits up and reaches for the pack of cigarettes but then decides against it. "What does she do?" He wonders why she hasn't come forward earlier, basking in the exposure of his celebrity.

“She’s a high school art teacher.” That had been a pleasant surprise, and when she had dropped the information on the rest of his team, they had all had the same immediate thought as her. “She’s more than ten years younger than you, I’m sure you’ll be excited to hear that. And she lives with family, so I’m sure any place you take her on that grand first date will be absolutely thrilling.”

"I don't care about age." He huffs, rolling his eyes even as his interest is piqued by her being an art teacher. "You've got the date set up, right? I don't actually have to do anything."

“Of course I do.” The whole team, Dieter included, desperately needs this all to go off without a hitch so there was no way in hell that they were leaving any date planning up to Dieter. It will be public, it will be romantic, and even his clothes have been picked out for him. “Is there anything else you want to know about her ahead of time, or do you want to be surprised?”

"I'll just find it out." Dieter groans as he pushes out of the bed and stretches. "It'll look more authentic since everything is supposed to be filmed or 'conveniently' papped." He tells her as he walks into his large bathroom to start the shower.

He’s right, and Libby shrugs her shoulders. It makes things a hell of a lot easier that this woman lives in Southern California. That had been a happy convenience. “I’ll be by to get you in an hour.” She tells him. “We’ll go over some things and then we’ll drive down to meet your soulmate!”

"What am I supposed to wear?" He demands, not particularly looking forward to this. He leans over the sink and looks at his reflection, narrowing his eyes at the crow’s feet that are looking deeper. Maybe he should look into Botox, or something natural. Smooth out some of the wrinkles.

“Blue linen shirt, a pair of your good Polo jeans, and white shoes. Not just ones that were white when they left the factory, ones that are white now.” Libby knows his wardrobe like the back of her hand. Better than her own soulmate’s. She’s had an outfit picked out in case he asked or picked something awful. “And put some product in your hair, okay, Dee? The curls are a good look for you.”

"Fuck....you're gonna make me wear a belt too, aren't you?" He huffs, rolling his eyes and walking to his closet. He has clothes, a lot of them actually, but he prefers the comfortable stuff. He ignores the designer suits he's acquired over the years and moves to the jeans and linen shirts.

“Yes, you have to wear a belt.” She laughs at his petulance, letting it roll off her shoulders because everything is going so well. “I could always rescind the white shoes decision and make you wear loafers or dress shoes. I know you would love that.”

"Fuck. I'm hanging up!" Dieter tells her, pressing the red button and tossing the phone down onto the counter. "Fuck." He hisses, looking into the mirror again. "I guess it's time to meet my soulmate." He mutters to himself, wondering how you are going to react to him showing up in your life.

******

Southwind Court in San Juan Capistrano is a relatively typical suburban street. There are kids out on bikes and neighbors in their gardens when the sleek, black car and nondescript SUV pull up to number 33115. The house is set back a little from the street with a sunken front door, sporting an herb garden in the front and a little front porch where a little girl’s tricycle sits proudly in the shade waiting to be ridden. A hand painted ‘Welcome’ sign in shades of blue offsets the otherwise unremarkable front door, and there is not a soul in sight as Libby ushers the two camera men she brought and their small steady cams into place. This is being live-streamed on Dieter’s website for the world to see and the angles need to be perfect.

Climbing out of the SUV, Dieter wishes he had a fucking drink. Something, especially since Libby had been serious about no drugs when he got out of rehab this time. He scrubs his hands on his jeans and puts on a confident smile, faking what he doesn't feel. HIs hair is styled, his scraggly scruff trimmed and looking neater than usual, and he feels like he is about to twitch out of his skin. "This is it?" He asks, surveying the house. It's nice. A slice of suburbia.

“This is it.” She reminds him of your name quietly just in case there are lurking neighbors, and ushers him up to the front door. She knows with confidence that you will be the one to answer the door despite living with other people, and she waves a hand at it. “Show time, Dee.”

Dieter clutches the flowers in his hands, they are supposed to be your favorites. Not that he actually knows that, he was just told to give these to you. He wipes his hand on his jeans and gives the camera a grin. "Nervous." He admits, not acting for that. "Meeting my soulmate is something I've looked forward to for a long time." He adds before he blows out a breath and rings the doorbell.

******

“Are we expecting someone?” You’ve been up for maybe half an hour now, just long enough to take a half-assed shower and throw on some clean clothes and graciously accept a cup of coffee from Steph before she tries yet again to grapple her daughter into the Mary Poppins Game, aka cleaning up all her damn toys.

Stephanie glances at the clock, trying to hide her own giddy sense of anticipation. "Oh! Uh, I think it might be the grocery order?" She offers. "I put it in last night, so we didn't have to go out unless we wanted to." It's a complete lie, but she needs you to not be suspicious when you open the door. "Will you get it while I finish up with stubborn?" She asks, nodding towards where Nora suddenly decided to organize all her doll clothes.

“Oh, cool. Auntie’s stayin home today.” You had planned on running the errand for Steph so she wouldn’t have to balance groceries and her four-year-old, but this is definitely better. Heading down the stairs from the second floor, you leave your coffee mug in the living room and walk through to the front door without a second thought.

When you open the front door, though, it’s like entire world pivots, flipping you upside down to drop you on your ass all in a split second. What the fuck is HE doing— the half-formed thought pings in your brain as he starts to open his mouth and it hits you like a freight train.

Stephanie is going to fucking pay for this.

You’re not entirely sure what you meant to say when you opened your mouth, but what came out was a sudden, sharp, “Fuck you, Bravo!” As you slammed the door in his face.

“Stephanie!” The second the door is shut you’re screaming again, but this time the angry is directed at the one person you trusted most in the world. “Stephanie! Tell me you did not do this!” The tears are a surprise, but they are hot and angry and definitely there.

Dieter's mouth drops open, eyes wide in shock. He had not expected that kind of reaction. Looking over at Libby and gawking for a moment before she elbows him in the side. The cameras are still rolling, live streaming this latest embarrassment. He huffs and chuckles and looks over at the camera with what could only be described as a roguish grin. "I see my less than sterling reputation has precedes me." He quips and turns back to the door to ring the doorbell again, face dropping into a frown.

“Auntie Gigi said a bad word!” Nora gasps, looking up as her mother scrambles to her feet.

“Yes, she did, baby.” Steph sighs. “Why don’t you stay here and play while I go find out why.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, closing Nora’s bedroom door behind her as she all but bolts for the stairs. “Honey, open the door,” she begs, hustling through the living room. “Just let him in and I’ll explain.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” The utter betrayal on your face would melt stone, the anger and hurt boiling behind your eyes. “You know I never wanted to meet him.”

“You think you don’t.” Steph gestures to the door again. “But he’s your soulmate. Just let him in. You might be surprised.”

“I—” You tug at your sleeves, that age old nervous habit meaning more than every right now. “We are having a conversation you will not enjoy later,” you tell her flatly before you turn around again. Wiping your tears on the edges of your sleeves, you square your shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door again. “Turn off the cameras.” Is the first thing out of your mouth, and you say it to the woman behind him. “Turn off the cameras, put them back in your cars, and then come in.”

Dieter frowns, turning and looking at Libby. This is not the reception that he had expected. This woman supposedly reached out to his team? To Mate Marks? “Lib?”

Libby nods to the camera guys, waving them off with pursed lips before she looks back at you. “Your sister-in-law decided to surprise you.” She guesses, thoroughly displeased with that development.

“Yeah, she did.” It takes concerted effort to step aside, but once the cameramen are gone you hold your word and let the two remaining people standing your doorstep into the house.

“This isn’t what’s supposed to happen!” Dieter hisses, glaring at his agent. “You said this was supposed to improve my image.”

“It’ll be an amusing anecdote in no time.” Libby promises him, hoping she sounds sure of that. Because she definitely isn’t. “Listen.” You cross your arms and clear your throat, trying for stern but probably not hitting it. “I don’t know what was promised, but it wasn’t by me.”

“Obviously.” Dieter frowns, furrowing his brow at you and wondering what in the fuck makes you hate him. “What did I do to you?” He thinks about it and his eyes widen slightly. “Was it the tattoos?” He asks before another thought hits him. “Shit— could you— you didn’t experience my OD, did you?”

“I gave up trying to get rid of your tattoos after the first one.” The little flower behind your ear had been painful to receive and painful to have lasered off, not to mention expensive. “The fact that you went for a giant—” From the corner of your eye you look at Steph and sigh. “Fudging triangle on your arm after that showed me how little regard you had for the person who shared your marks.” When the two intruders look at you like you have just grown three extra heads you shrug. “We have a four-year-old in the house. Bad words are off limits.”

“Oh.” He bites his lip and looks around, trying to find the kid. The signs were obvious, but he had been trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. “You have a kid?” He asks.

"My niece." You motion toward Stephanie who looks appropriately guilty a few feet away. "My brother died two years ago of Covid. Stephanie - uh, my best friend and my brother were soulmates. So, Auntie stepped up when Dad got sick."

“Oh shit— uh, shoot.” He bites his tongue and Libby’s jaw drops open at Dieter’s attempt to rein in his foul mouth. “I’m sorry.” He winces, directing the comment towards Stephanie. “I know that sucks.”

"Thank you." Steph nods vaguely, used to absorbing people's sympathies fairly consistently since Shawn died. That's just part of what being a widow is. "Why don't you guys talk? I'm going to go check on Nora and I'll come back down in a few minutes."

The flowers Dieter was supposed to hand you are hanging by his side and he brings them up to offer to you again. “Do you want these?” He asks.

You have a sense that he might be as blindsided by all of this as you are but in different ways, and you find yourself nodding slightly and reaching to take the flowers from him while studiously avoiding actually touching him in any way. "Let's go in the kitchen," you offer, not checking to see if they follow you as you cross the floor to the place where coffee lives and a vase is most likely to be found for the (admittedly pretty) zinnia flowers.

Dieter drifts behind you, letting Libby pull ahead of him as he makes his way to the kitchen. Ego slightly bruised by the reception he received. Even if he hadn't wanted to meet you, argued against it, it was insulting the way you had just hurled 'fuck you Bravo' at him and slammed the fucking door in his face. Plenty of people would want to be with him, had tried to convince Libby they were his soulmate, and he was stuck with someone who fucking hated him. "Are we sure?" He asks Libby again when he makes it into the kitchen, looking over at you where you were putting the flowers in a vase and watering them.

Libby sighs, short and staccato like a hrrumph and nods slightly. “Her sister-in-law is the one who contacted us,” she admits quietly. A fact that she had considered need-to-know for Dieter before this. “We’ll spin this and make it work, Dee. I promise.”

“What do you want from me?” You can hear them whispering - he might be quiet but she’s too forceful for that - and frown again as you pull three clean coffee mugs and the sugar bowl out of the cupboard. “Why look now. What’s the angle?”

"I'm ready to settle down." Dieter quips, the comment sounding more like a question than a statement and he watches your back while you pour coffee, something he would sell his fucking soul for right now since he can't have a little toot like he really wants. "Why didn't you?" He asks. "Look for me. Or you know, get in contact with me since you obviously knew."

Annoyed at the implication that you’re in the wrong for leaving him alone, you pull open the button at the cuff of your shirt and tug the fabric up to reveal the ludicrously oversized triangle tattoo that he put on your arm. The first time he or anyone beside Steph has seen the marks on your skin in years. “It was impossible not to know. But you seemed to be perfectly content in the life you’ve been living and I have no desire to be reduced to tabloid fodder for the rest of my life, so I kept my mouth shut. No one knows except Steph and my parents. I keep my marks covered.” As if to prove it, you rebutton your sleeve before setting all the things they’ll need for coffee in front of them. “My niece doesn’t even know I have tattoos.”

"They aren't that bad." Dieter scoffs, shaking his head and crossing his own arms, sleeves rolled up to show off the tattoos and the assortment of bracelets that he insisted pulled the outfit together and made it interesting rather than boring. "You even cover up the hand tattoo." He huffs when he spots your left hand.

“Make up.” You tell him, Instinctively covering the spot with your other hand. “My students would recognize it.”

"Fans?" He smirks slightly and then remembers that you don't want people to know that you are soulmates with him, making that look slide off his face.

“Some of them.” You’ve definitely had to remind yourself not to be overly harsh when grading portraits of him as unit projects before. Those are usually the days that you come home from work and don’t say a word besides playing with Nora or reading her a story. “But look, you didn’t answer me.” Leveling your gaze back on the woman who came in with him, you ask again. “What do you want from me?”

"Dieter wanted to find his soulmate." Libby answers for him, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down as if it were a conference room table. "Obviously Mate Marks was wildly interested in having one of Hollywood's Oscar winning actors endorse them if you could be found through their services."

“Okay, that’s why you did it, but again not the actual answer to my question.” Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean you’re not going to be a neglectful host, and the tray of banana chocolate chip muffins you made yesterday is uncovered and set in the middle of the kitchen table. “I assume you want me to do something? Something public?”

Dieter's eyes light up at the sight of the chocolate chips, and he immediately reaches for one. "Date me." He answers, breaking one open and popping it into his mouth, only to roll his eyes and groan in pleasure. He loves sweets and the dark chocolate mixed with semi-sweet chips hits just right since he hasn't eaten anything today.

It’s just two words, but you actually deadpan stare at him in borderline horror and panic. “I—wha—? No.”

He swallows the muffin and Libby rushes to try to reason with you. "Just a few 'getting to know you' type things." She assures you, knowing that once the initial interest has worn off, they can either convince you to continue on or just keep comments about his soulmate to a minimum. Libby starts explaining her plan and the agreement they have with Mate Marks, and Dieter loses interest in this part of the conversation, looking around for something to pique his interest. The thick stack of bills off to one side that is stamped with bright red 'Overdue' and 'Urgent' do. Twisting his head to the side to read what it's about.

As a business venture, the whole thing is very sound. A few public dates, a few high-profile appearances - a half dozen in total. They’re offering to buy you clothes and they’ll provide you with a driver for every event. A member of Dieter’s security team will be assigned to you if necessary. It all sounds like a huge headache that you don’t want for a man you have no interest in knowing. “Look, I appreciate that you went through a lot of work for this stunt.” You tell them, even though he isn’t listening. “But the answer is still no.”

“What are these?” Dieter asks, picking up the thick stack of bills and nosily starting to riffle through them. There are a lot. Some for a man - the oldest ones, but a lot of them are for a Nora.

“None of your business is what they are!” The horrified look on your face when you see what he’s holding is very plain, and you snatch them out of his hand immediately. “That’s—I can’t—I—” The medical bills from Shawn’s treatment are still outstanding, piling up with Nora’s bills and the mortgage payments. They’re none of his fucking business and the fact that he’s snooping just reinforces how rude you’ve always thought he is. “Please leave.”

“Okay. Okay.” Dieter holds his hands up, standing up and dropping them back down so you don’t see the three papers he had tucked into his pocket. There was a lot of money owed. A shit ton and he wanted to look at them more closely. Have Libby look into it. “We’ll go.”

“It was interesting meeting you.” Is the only thing you can think to say to him at the door, too agitated and angry and upset with the whole thing to try to be less transparently polite-but-not-nice. Once the door is shut behind him you can feel the walls crumbling fast, and before you realized you were even moving you’re standing in the doorway of Nora’s room with a drawn frown pointed at the woman who claims to be your best friend. “We need to talk.”

Stephanie bites her lip and smiles down at Nora, looking confused between the two adults. It’s not often that mommy and Aunt Gigi argued and feels her tummy flip unpleasantly. “Okay.” Steph agrees. “Mommy’s going to go talk to Aunt Gigi, you want to watch cartoons in my room?”

“Uh huh…” Nora nods, still not liking the feeling in her tummy, and grabs her doll along with her mom’s hand to go into the other room.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” She tells you before she hustles Nora into her room. Setting her up amongst her pillows and turning on cartoons, she shuts the door behind her. She hadn’t thought you would react this badly. Maybe a little upset but you look furious. Biting her lip, she walks downstairs to face the music.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The words are out of your mouth the second she hits the bottom of the stairs. You’ve been prowling them living room like a caged tiger for ten minutes and the only reason you’re not shouting is so Nora won’t hear.

Steph rounds her shoulders slightly, knowing that she was wrong for intruding. Sighing heavily, her guilty look slides to the side, unable to look you in the eyes. “I just thought maybe If you met him…” she tells you softly. “You used to love him. Before your tattoos showed up.”

“Before he turned into a careless asshole.” You correct, wishing this damn skirt you’re wearing had pockets to shove your hands into. “You invited him into our home Steph. Our safe place. I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Stephanie snorts, shaking her head and honestly getting a little pissed at you. “Do you know what I would do? What I would give to spend five more minutes with my soulmate?” She demands, touching the tattoo she had re-inked into her skin in memory of Shawn. “And you don’t even want to get to know yours!”

“That’s different.” Your lip trembles a little, hating having your brother’s memory brought into this. “You loved him. You were twelve years old, and you looked my big brother in the eye and told him you were gonna marry him one day. I don’t have a soulmate. I have an ego on legs with bad ink and no concept of manners. He was rifling through our shit, Steph. Our bills.”

“Shit, I left them out.” Steph winces and gives a small shrug. She can’t help that she’s in debt up to her eyeballs. “Did he mock us for being broken by the fucking health care system or something?”

“I kicked them out before he could say anything.” To be honest you’re not even sure he comprehended what was in the envelopes he was holding, but it sickens you to think he might have been forming an insult based on something that almost every single American of the twenty-first century can relate to.

“So he might have just been curious. He’s your soulmate. I wanted to know everything about Shawn. Everything.” Stephanie tells you before she holds up a hand. “But I’m sorry I interfered. I shouldn’t have. And I won’t anymore.” She promises.

“What else did you tell them about me?” You can only assume there was some kind of survey or interview to verify your identity and your status as Dieter’s soulmate. Some kind of test. “He came here with zinnias so they must have asked what my favourite flower is.”

“Just basic things, that you are a high school art teacher, and you love fresh brewed coffee and concerts - although you haven’t been to one in years.” Steph sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just— I want you to be happy. Outside of me and Nor.”

“I don’t need anything outside of you and Nora.” For the first time since the doorbell rang your anger cracks, and you reach for your friend’s hand. “I wanted a family, and the universe gave me a brother I loved, a best friend to cherish every minute with, and that little girl upstairs to help take care of. And I love this life.”

“I know you love it, but—” She shakes her head again. “Aren’t you lonely?” She ventures softly.

“Well—” The best shrug you can manage is the most half-assed thing in the world, and you feel like dissolving a puddle on the floor if you could. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” Steph huffs. It definitely matters. Especially to her, when all she wants is your happiness.

“It doesn’t.” You shake your head insistently. “You matter. And Nora matters. And the promise I made to Shawn to help take care of you matters. Not whether or not I get laid.”

“No.” Steph argues. “We are not going to sacrifice your happiness to help me.” She huffs. “Then we’ll be two bitter old hags sharing a house.”

“You’re not old and you’re not a hag.” There’s no point in debating the ‘bitter’ part since the world dealt her an ugly hand. “Dieter Bravo isn’t going to make me happy, honey. The universe has it wrong this time.”

“Give me another twenty years.” She jokes and heaves another sigh. “I’m really not going to convince you to give him a chance, am I?”

“It would take a literal miracle to change my mind about him.” After all the years and all the things that you’ve read and seen - secretly reading articles and news releases when you were younger has waned over the years - you just don’t see how it could ever work. “If this is really about my sex life, I’m okay. I’ll sign up for a soulmate-less dating app or something if I get desperate.” It’s been…years, actually, now that you think about it, since you had anything even remotely resembling a personal connection with someone. But that has been a seriously low priority in your life since Shawn got sick, and even then your encounters were nothing more than a quick release, always with the worry that they would see the elephant on your thigh or that your sleeve would come unbuttoned during a chance encounter and reveal a triangle. The specter of your soulmate has been hanging over your head for a long time.

******

“Aunt Gigi!” Nora burst in the door, home from her doctor’s appointment, her face scrunched up in confusion and a little bit of fear. “Mommy’s crying!” She races over to where you are chopping vegetables and grabs your arm. “She won’t stop!”

“Steph?” Nearly dropping your knife, you wipe your hands on the apron around your waist and pick Nora up so you can hustle through the house faster than her little legs are capable of. “Stephy, what’s wrong? What happened?” It seems like a violation of the Hippocratic Oath for them to deny Nora’s treatment based on debt, but you wouldn’t put it past anyone these days. Today was an infusion day and her medication is pricey.

Stephanie barely made it inside the door, crumpled to the floor on her knees with her face buried in her hands. Body shaking as she sobs. Everything just spilled on the ground beside her, her purse, keys, Nora’s bag for daycare, carelessly heaped beside her while she weeps.

“Nora baby, can you get Mommy a bottle of water from the refrigerator? Don’t run, sweetie.” The little girl nods, on the verge of tears herself, and you have to remind her not to run again as she takes off back across the house a second time. “Honey, what happened?” It only takes a second to right the bags again and scoop up the things that had fallen out so you can pull Stephanie into your arms on the floor, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll figure it out. Just take a deep breath, honey. I’m right here.”

“N-no.” Stephanie inhales a large gulp of air, shuddering from her crying. She had managed to keep it together until she pulled into the driveway but now that she was home it’s all crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. “It-it-it’s gone!” She cries, choking out the words.

“What’s gone?” Oh god…did the bank foreclose on the house? You were sure you had more time.

Nearly hyperventilating, Stephanie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a few folded papers, shoving them into your hands. “Ev-everything.” She manages. “Gone! It-it-it’s not a glitch!”

You’re well acquainted with what a balance statement from the hospital looks like. Over the years you’ve seen plenty of them, memorizing the way they look and even the way they smell completely against your will. This one is unlike anything you’ve ever seen though - because the balance reads zero. A one-time payment is listed for every single cent that Steph owed for Nora’s treatments and care. As of two days ago, the balance is paid in full. The folded and crumpled page has a mate, of course, and you snatch it out of the envelope frantically. Every penny of debt for Shawn and Nora’s care has been paid by the same credit card. It was hundreds of thousands all told. Years piled up in doctors and dollar signs. And it’s gone. “Holy shit…” you breathe, eyes wide as you stare at the zeroes on the pages. “Who…?” Bundling Steph up in your arms, you squeeze her tight and feel the palpable shift in the air. No wonder she can’t stop crying, you think, unaware that you’ve started to cry too - albeit silently.

“Th-they wouldn’t tell me.” She blubbers, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. “S-said they asked not to be named.”

“Shhhh, honey…” When Nora comes back and sees you crying too she almost loses it, her lower lip trembling violently, but you smile at her reassuringly and pull her into your lap right along with Steph. “It’s okay, baby,” you promise her, sniffling back as much emotion as you can. “Someone did something really nice for Mommy and we’re just…we’re very shocked by it. It was a surprise, baby. But everything’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” She immediately snuggles into both of you and Stephanie manages to catch her breath again.

“It’s so good baby.” She promises her daughter. “So much so, I - I think we are going to order dinner to celebrate.” She announces. Ordering dinner is a rarity in your house, saved for the most special of occasions. A real treat for everyone.

“But it’s not a birfday.” Nora’s eyes widen at the implacable importance of ordering dinner, and she hugs her mother hard. “Must-a been a really good surprise, Mommy.”

“It is baby.” Stephanie bends down and presses her lips to her daughter’s head. “Why don’t you go think about what you want?” She asks, leaning back and brushing the curls away from Nora’s face. “Anything you want. I want to wash my face and talk to Aunt Gigi.”

Nora runs off again at lightning speed, knowing exactly which drawer in the kitchen holds the take out menus because she likes to order pretend take out for her dolls for very special tea parties. “Let’s see how getting up goes,” You half-laugh at the way the two of you groan as your crumpled, over-30 bodies creak and groan as you stand back up.

“I’m going to call the mortgage company.” Stephanie tells you. “The money meant for medical bills will quickly make up how much we are behind.” She hugs you again desperately and pulls away with the brightest smile in a long time. “Will you help Nora order?” She asks, handing you her purse. “We are treating you to dinner.”

When you start to protest she puts one hand over your mouth to stifle it and nearly laughs with actual joy, and you can’t see fit to bicker about anything when she’s so happy. Instead, you hug her tightly and head off to the kitchen to find Nora pouring over the menu for the Chinese place in town that makes the sweet and sour chicken she and Steph both love. It’s one of the few restaurant items she can really enjoy with all of her food restrictions, and something you’ve never quite managed to nail cooking at home. “Did you find something already, Nor?”

“Uhhuh.” She proudly displays the Chinese menu. “Chicken!” She claps her hands excitedly.

“Chicken sounds good.” She’s all cheered up again after having been worried about her mom, and you set her down at the kitchen table beside you while you plug your order into the app together. By the time Steph comes back in from the living room, you’ve picked up the beginnings of the dinner you were making and cleaned up the kitchen, and Nora is playing happily with the building block house she made for her favourite dolls earlier in the week.

She’s not crying, she’s stunned. Walking slowly into the kitchen with a dazed look on her face, Stephanie comes and plops down beside you. “I don’t know what is going on.” She murmurs.

"What do you mean?" You had just pulled out your phone to check your e-mail for any job application responses, but she looks like she's seen a ghost, so you put it aside immediately.

“They are sending me the deed to the house.” She murmurs, looking over at here Nora is playing happily. “The mortgage was paid off two days ago.”

"What?" Hissed under your breathed, the word rockets your eyebrows up to your hairline in surprise even as you're careful not to disturb Nora. "What the heck is going on?"

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, overwhelmed by the sudden and complete turnaround of her fortune. “No one knows how badly I’m drowning except you.”

"Somebody must have known." With both her parents and her husband gone and no other close family, it's not like Steph's relatives could have known anything. Your own parents adore her, but you and she have a standing agreement not to ask them for help because they're barely squeaking by on their own. She hadn't been to therapy in over a year because of the expense, and her bosses certainly don't have a clue. Even if they did, they wouldn't care.

“No one.” She promises before she stops, works her mouth and then shuts it again before speaking. “You— you said that he was snooping.” She bites her lip. “You don’t think— No. That’s crazy right?”

The blood drains from your face at the thought, but you shake your head adamantly. "No way." You insist, stubbornly refusing to admit that it might be even the tiniest possibility. "That would require him to care about another person. Absolutely no way in heck." Oh if ever there was a time to be able to swear...

“I don’t know anyone else who could pay that kind of money.” Stephanie reasons, looking over at Nora, sighing. “Whoever it is. I need to thank them. They just gave my daughter her childhood back.” So many things she had wanted to do with Nora had been delayed. Aquariums, water parks, Disney, all now within reach due to someone’s generosity.

"Maybe some secretive billionaire is out there calling up hospitals and banks and paying off people's debt like their idea of a fun Wednesday?" It's possibly the most ludicrous thing you've ever said, but the terrifying possibility that that man might have grown a heart and done something caring is too much for you to stomach. No, more likely he did it to lord it over you. Like he'd call to taunt and – but if someone were going to do that they wouldn't have insisted on remaining anonymous. They would want the two of you to know so they could gloat. "Maybe some rich eccentric is working off their debt to society by paying other people's debts?" Surely that's it.

“I’m not that lucky.” Stephanie scoffs before she gives you a knowing look. “You should ask.” She tells you.

"Even if I wanted to?" Which you truly don't, despite your curiosity, because it would involve talking to him again. "I have no way to contact him."

“Didn’t they give you a number or something?” Stephanie asks, surprised that you are just flat-out saying no.

“Maybe? I kicked them out pretty fudging abruptly.” You vaguely remember there was a card in the flowers, but you had assumed it was for the florist and tossed it in the trash. Or maybe a drawer? Popping out of your seat, you dig into the junk drawer in the kitchen where you would have gotten the scissors to trim the flower stems. An unfamiliar piece of card stock is sticking out from under them and you swear if it gives you a paper cut you won’t be surprised. Dieter is scrawled on the back of the card, and a nine-digit number with an LA area code. If you were cruel you could auction this little thing off for more money than you’ve ever dreamed of - but that isn’t you. You, right now, is the person staring at it like it personally caused every ill that mankind has ever known. “The back of the florist’s card.” You hold it up to show her, and then flip it over so she can see what you can only assume is his handwriting. “I guess I thought the flowers were pretty enough to keep it.”

“They were very pretty flowers.” Steph concedes, not mentioning that it was romantic of him to bring you flowers, even if she was certain someone else bought them. “You don’t have to do this.” She tells you, voice filled with guilt. “I would just love to know if the worst man on earth is responsible for changing our lives. I mean, he’s probably not. You know, since he’s horrible.”

“Are you seriously teasing me about this?” Steph has never thought as poorly of him as you have, you know that. But you still huff at her like you’re vaguely surprised she won’t ever be on your side on the issue.

“Yes I am.” Steph looks over at Nora to make sure the young girl is fully absorbed in her playing so she doesn’t hear her mother. “Because you have a hot soulmate and you won’t even angry…snuggle him.” She murmurs quietly.

“I would not snuggle that man, angrily or any other way, if my life depended on it.” You inform her flatly, absolutely not thinking in any way, shape, or form about how he’s actually far more attractive in person. No movie star glitz, no chaotic disaster vibes, just a clean and decently dressed man in your kitchen. That is not relevant.

“You’re a better woman that me.” She huffs, acknowledging to herself how long it has been since she’s been snuggled. Since Shawn got sick. “I would do it just for bragging rights.”

“That would involve admitting I’ve been within a mile of him, which I will not be doing.” With a sigh, you look down at the card in your hand. “I’m only doing this for you.” One phone call to confirm it wasn’t him and then you can get back to your quiet, normal life. One that is now considerably less burdened with debt.

“You don’t have to.” She’s serious this time. If it was going to upset you, she would rather you not.

"We have to know." You tell her honestly. "I'll go upstairs and call this number. Hopefully it's just that Libby woman and I can ask questions without having to talk to him and I'll be back downstairs in no time."

“Okay.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand. “If it is him, tell him…tell him I said ‘thank you from the bottom of my heart’.”

Once you're sitting in your room with the door closed, the anxiousness hits. A full five minutes are spent staring at that phone number with your legs bouncing before you actually manage to dial it into your phone, and another two minutes before you actually hit the call button. Though you're praying that it's an official business number, the pit in the bottom of your stomach says it won't be. Maybe it will go to voicemail...

“I don’t care if you’ve been trying to reach me about my cars extended warranty.” Dieter huffs into the phone, feeling frustrated at the number of spam calls he’s been receiving. He was supposed to have some kind of private number, right? That’s what Libby told him when she said not to give out his number to everyone.

"What?" The abruptness in the answer catches you off guard, and you find yourself scrubbing one hand down the side of your face. "No, no— this isn't a scam call. Uh...I'm trying to reach Dieter Bravo?" A sentence you never thought you would ever say...

“Oh, uh, that’s me.” His tone changes. “I mean, who is calling?” He rolls his eyes at himself, wondering if a fan got his number again.

You do your best not to sound resigned or, worse, nervous, when you give him your name. "This number was written on the back of the florist's card," you tell him, wondering now if that was even his handwriting.

“Oh yeah.” He pulls his way away and looks at the number. “It’s my personal cell phone.”

"I, uh...I called for a reason." This already goes down as one of the most awkward phone calls you've had in your life, so why not just go for the jugular. Can't get worse, right?

“You gonna yell at me again?” He asks, tucking his phone into his shoulder and unwrapping a mini KitKat.

"I don't think so." You admit begrudgingly, twisting the hem of your shirt in your lap with your free hand. "I need to know if you looked at the mail you picked up while you were at my house last week. Like actually looked at it. Names and accounts and things. Because..." A soft exhale escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Because my sister-in-law's medical debts and mortgage payments were all magically paid off two days ago and..." Oh god, don't cry. Nothing could be more humiliating that crying on the phone to this man. "And you're the only person we could think of who would have that kind of money..."

“They let her know?” He hums. “Good.” He pops the KitKat into his mouth and chews happily. “Didn’t think it would be for another month. I know that shit makes you fucking stresssssseed. Worry about bills.”

"It was you? Nora had a doctor's appointment today and when Steph went to pay they said—" Halfway through blurting out the explanation you stop, processing the absolutely casual way he answers and how once again you can't believe it's this man that the universe stuck you with. "She wanted me to tell you thank you. Thank you from the bottom of her heart." The quote is exact, though it feels odd to say the words to him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He murmurs, waving away the gratitude. “It’s done.” He pauses and reaches for another KitKat. “That all you wanted?” He knows you don’t like him; you’ve made that evident and while it sucks, he knows he can’t do much to change your opinion of him.

"Why?" It's almost as important to you as the fact that he did it at all. "Why help us? You didn't have to."

“You’re my soulmate.” He tells you, as if that should be obvious reason for doing anything. “You were struggling. I could help, so I did. Besides, I’m not spending money on drugs anymore.” He huffs that part, still annoyed with sobriety. “Smart figuring it out. I told them not to say anything.”

"You're not?" That probably shouldn't be the part you're focusing on, but it's surprising to you nonetheless.

“Not what?” He asks, confused by the question.

"You just said you...you weren't spending money on drugs anymore." You clear your throat slightly. "Surprised me. That's all."

He grunts, not happy about it, but he promised he would try to stay in the wagon for a while. “Yeah, apparently being happy is bad for my image.”

"I— look, it's none of my business." It's not, and you know it, and now you regret pursuing the line of questioning altogether. "We're just...we're extremely grateful. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but Steph was on the verge of losing the house and this is the place she bought with my brother, so it means a lot to her. You, um...you gave Nora back her childhood and my best friend back her ability to breathe. So thank you."

“You’re welcome.” Dieter tells you quietly, feeling good about being able to help you. “I’ll let you go; I know you don’t actually want to talk to me.”

In an impulsive move that you regret almost as soon as you open your mouth, you swear you can feel the tilt of the earth shift in an out-of-body-experience kind of way as you blurt out the words: "I'll do it," as quickly as possible, catching him before he hangs up.

“Do what?” He stops, puts his phone back up to his ear and waits for you to explain.

"The...thing. The date thing." Oh god, what the hell are you doing?? It's too late to take it back and your heart is pounding in your throat. "You need me to help fix your image or whatever, right? Well...you helped me, so I'll help you." You could have let him hang up. It would have been easy. But then you would have been sitting with this debt hanging over your head in a whole new way. A debt to Dieter Bravo. That definitely isn't something you want on your conscience, and you firmly believe in paying your debts anyway.

“I didn’t do it to get you to do this.” Even if Libby had begged him to tell them who paid it off, he had insisted it be anonymous. It wasn’t why he was doing it. It would have made him the asshole you think he is.

"If you had, you would have made sure we knew it was you." Alright, so he might not be the worst person on earth. Jeff Bezos is definitely worse. Dieter Bravo gets a point for positivity today, begrudgingly. "Nevertheless, I am saying that I'll help you. What you did changed our lives, and I— I don't believe in letting that kind of thing go unrecognized."

“Okay.” Dieter doesn’t know why you are doing it still, but it will get his manager off his back. “I’ll send you a text, okay?”

"Okay." Nodding as though he could see you through the phone, you sag on your bed and let out a breath. "I assume that Libby woman will have a contract or something for me to sign. Just have her send it over."

“Probably.” Dieter grumbles. “Woman has contracts for every damn thing.”

That actually makes you laugh despite yourself, and you clear your throat again. "Okay. I guess...I guess I'll talk to you later, then."

“Hey—” He hopes you haven’t hung up the phone yet. One more thing on his mind.

"Yeah?" You had pulled your phone away from your ear when he spoke again, and you pick the electronic back up quickly.

Dieter grins, knowing he’s going to probably make you hang up on him. “What are you wearing?”

"You'll never know." Rolling your eyes, you thump the red button on your phone to disconnect the call and let out a long, loud, agonized groan before getting up to go back downstairs. Dieter Fucking Bravo... this is going to be a shit show.

Chuckling to himself, he tosses the phone down. He had wanted to ask about what was wrong with the kid. They wouldn’t tell him when he paid the bills. However, you seemed confused by the idea that he had a heart, so he hadn’t wanted to surprise you too much. Groaning, he picks up his phone again and shoots Libby a text message, telling her that you agreed to help him fix his image. She will be thrilled.

******

"I smell dinner!" At the bottom of the stairs you call out through the house, inhaling the comforting smell of Chinese take out. Steph and Nora are setting out containers on the table and you cross behind them to wash your hands, checking the table as you go to see if anything else is needed. "Everybody excited for sweet and sour chicken?"

“God yes.” Steph groans and winks at Nora. “It’s been 87 years since we’ve had Chinese.” She jokes. Because it is a special occasion type of meal for the past couple of years, Nora is excited.

"87 years, huh? That makes Nor the oldest four-year-old I ever did see." You laugh and shake your head at them, bringing over the pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator before you sit down next to Steph. "It was him," you tell her quietly, knowing that you have but there's more face.

“If you tell me a new car will be delivered tomorrow, I’m gonna snuggle him.” Stephanie jokes, amazed that your soulmate just solved the majority of her problems in minutes.

"I did not mention the cars." Although, now that the looming mortgage payments have been eliminated, Steph can definitely price out a good mechanic. "But, um..." As Steph serves Nora and then herself, you find yourself wanting to melt into the floorboards all over again. "There will probably be other deliveries. Clothes and whatever. For the...the dates..." You mumble the last word as quietly and incoherently as you possibly can, but the look on Steph's face says she heard you loud and clear.

“You’re going to do it?” Stephanie breathes out, staring at you for another second before she breaks into a grin. “Oh, we are definitely having wine with our Chinese!” She bolts up from the table to grab the rest of the bottle from the fridge. Now that she didn’t have to worry about the mountain of debt or the house, she was going to buy you the fanciest bottle she could find tomorrow.

"Fair is fair." You contend, since it is now your personal party line as to why you have agreed to this charade. "It is six appearances and then I can fade back into obscurity where I belong."

“Unless you decide you like being there with him.” Steph hums, pouring you both glasses and finishing the bottle.

"Let's not start talking crazy." A part of you believes you're doing this as much for Steph as you are for him. It will make her happy to live vicariously for a little bit, and you can prove to her that just because you're technically soulmates does not mean that you're actually supposed to be with Dieter Bravo. "It'll be done by the end of the summer and the kids will completely forget it even happened by the time Homecoming rolls around."

“Yeah right.” You can tell yourself that, but Stephanie knows better. Dieter might have negative press surrounding him right now because of what happened on the Cliff Beasts set, but he is a star. An Oscar winner. “We’ll just have to see.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #soulmate au #tw debt #tw medical debt #Trash Can Man

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essaysbyciara · 2 years

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It's Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!Plus Size Reader [Part 3/?]

SOUNDTRACK | PART ONE | PART TWO

Hi! Part three is here. I don't have much else to say lmao. Taglist is OPEN if you would like to be added. OH! There’s also a soundtrack for the story (peep above). Peace and love

Hotel bars can be hit or miss; you prep yourself every time for watered-down drinks and a loquacious bartender a tad bit too heavy-handed, ignoring your every wave down for a check. Sportscenter blares from the television behind the top-shelf bottles of liquor, reminding you of why you and a damn-near-full bar full of polos and dad-hats adorned with NFL logos are here in the Marriott by the stadium in Indianapolis.

Your date in the shower with your battery-operated boyfriend wasn’t enough. All the things on your body remained tense. You throw on a white crop-top t-shirt, jean jacket, workout tights and limited edition sneakers and take the elevator down to the hotel bar for a strong drink to hopefully knock the edge off. Secretly, had another motive: hotel bars are where hot scoops get caught and the ledes for tomorrow’s newspapers are written. You hope to catch a coach slip out his plans for a draft pick or an agent complain about a player’s performance at the combine. It’s been a quiet few days at the combine and scared money don’t make no money.

“Maker’s neat, please. Double.” You stare down an Instagram timeline barely moving in hopes to see a little red icon pop up on your screen. Despite the plea to yourself to give it up, you couldn’t let go of Nebraska not following you back. You couldn’t believe that he forgot about you but yet you could: It’s been a long time, almost fifteen long years, since you two paraded down the hallways of New Birth High school. Actually, you never waved your pageant hand down those fabled corridors. You hid or tried to, at least. Especially from him. That’s why you think Nebraska doesn’t remember you. What was there to remember?

You snap out of degrading yourself to speculate the other reasons why he hasn’t responded to your request. Maybe he doesn’t use his IG that often to begin with or maybe he’ll follow you in a week or two later when he is actually on the app. Or maybe you’re denying the truth: he’s forgotten about you like it felt when you both roamed the same school.

“Yo, man. She’s toughhhh…” Brasco’s right hand, Derrick, says looking at an IG profile of a woman that’s caught his man’s attention. “You meeting her up here?”

“Yeah, bruh. I shouldn’t be doing it though ‘cus we got an early morning but fuck, look at her.” Brasco’s date was beyond beautiful: deep brown skin, long hair and a face Aphrodite would be jealous of. She hopped into his DMs once she saw his Instagram story training one of the most successful wide receivers in the league. Unbeknownst to Brasco, he would be her ticket to something – or someone – big. He hadn’t been on a date in almost six months – in desperate need of his own ticket being punched – willing to risk morning exhaustion for a late-night sexual excursion.

“Where y’all meeting at?” Derrick continues to scroll through the timeline of Brasco’s paramore.

“Some hotel bar in the city. Fuck, let me check my DMs to see– oh shit.”

“Oh shit what?”

Brasco’s face colors all kinds of intrigue. it’s been a while since he’s seen you. He finally peeped his notifications. “Nah. Someone from high school that I haven’t talked to in a minute followed me. Damn.”

“Damn. It ain’t your stalking-ass ex, is it?” That stalking-ass ex would be Lisa, the girl who snagged Brasco first, failed to be the last and couldn’t let him go. Even through her engagement to another man.

“Nah, nah. It’s this girl that was cool with one of my boys in high school. I ain’t really connected to anyone from that time so I don’t know how she found me.”

“Let me see…” Derrick looks at your Instagram bio. “Bro, she works at SportsNews. She’s probably looking for shit to tweet about since it's Combine week. Block her.”

Usually Brasco – or Derrick, being his de facto business manager – blocks all reporters but you just ain’t any ol’ one of those. You were the first – and last – one to give Nebraska “Brasco” Williams a feature article in any newspaper, a clipping his mother laminated and taped to her refrigerator. It was an interview about his favorite things. You’re also the first person from New Birth to penetrate his self-imposed walls. He’s been running from his high school years ever since his arrest sent him to juvenile detention and then onto the Navy.

But Brasco doesn’t want to block you just yet. He sees your pictures with Sheena, his old best friend Jarell’s girlfriend-now-wife. The twins have “Big J’s” nose. He hadn’t talked to Big J since leaving New Birth, afraid to learn of what the school was saying about him. News of the fight traveled through AIM quicker than a common cold in a kindergarten class. He didn’t want to be judged for a mistake that left a kid with a bloody and broken jaw and him in a Maryland juvenile facility.

Derricks sees Brasco endlessly strolling through your Instagram. “Damn, man. Is there anything good on there I need to know about?”

“Uhhh… nah, nah.” Brasco stumbles through his words as he’s triggered by the friends he left behind. “I’ll take care of it, dude. I’m about to dip; shorty’s at the Marriott by the stadium waiting for me”.

…Grey Goose and a whole lot of hydro

Only describe us as soldier survivors

Stay laced in the best, well-dressed

With finesse in a white tee, lookin' for wifey

Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely

Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze

We can drive through the city, no doubt

But don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out…

The rain that helped to arrange your ride home from Brasco went from bad to worse, your dream man driving with his hands on ten and two like a good teenage driver should. You sheepishly grin when Brasco put on “Made You Look” by Nas. You did share a favorite, after all. “Aight, where you at off River?” You’ve been sneaking glimpses of Brasco’s strong hands gripping the hell out of the steering wheel, failing to notice him drive past your house.

“You passed it, actually. It’s the house with the green door. On the left.” You and he didn’t talk much in the car. You didn’t want to distract him from the treachery of the road with a torrential downpour following you both to your destination. You also thought there was absolutely nothing for you two to talk about. The differences were that stark.

Nebraska Williams, better known as Brasco, was the star football player for New Birth High School, one of the best programs in the city. Girls were on him like Bow Wow was on 106 & Park: every day, all day. He built a reputation for being a ladies’ man, teetering close to being a “ho” by high school boy standards. “You know he date some girl over at Hillcrest!” “Girl, word is that this chick that go to Stockton pregnant!” Apparently he was doing this as the news of his relationship with Lisa, eventual prom queen and student body president, caused shock and bewilderment throughout the eleventh-grade lunch period. Lisa and Brasco made all the sense in the days of nonsensical rumors and innuendos about Brasco’s whereabouts, even if the baby-by-the-girl-who-went-to-Stockon ended up to be the truth.

You didn’t have much salaciousness to report. You were the newspaper nerd best friend of his best friend’s girlfriend. Boys didn’t check for you except for Blackplanet, your guestbook getting some traffic only to mean absolutely nothing in the real world scheme of things. You weren’t popular enough to have rumors passed around about you and you certainly weren’t having any sex to warrant hearsay about a baby.

“Fuck, let me back up….”

“No, it’s cool. If my Dad sees me get out of a car he doesn’t know, he might flip. I can hop out here. The rain is stopping anyway. I appreciate the ride.”

Maybe Brasco was doing this as a favor to Sheena. They did share the last period of the day together and you figured she must’ve threatened to cut him if he didn’t take you home after the interview. She always accosted him about being a gentleman. Or maybe he picked you up because he wasn’t a dick; he saw you shielding yourself from the monsoon as you waited for your bus to arrive and he figured to be nice. Either way, you knew it wasn’t because he liked you or anything because, in your mind, there’s no way in hell that could ever be the case.

You had no time to enquire as Brasco quickly unlocked the car door to let you out. You not-so-gracefully hop out, grabbing your umbrella from your tartan-printed backpack covered in all types of pins. You refuse to turn around to look at him, fearing you could turn into stone, feeling like mush as your stomach produces more butterflies than a botanical garden. Brasco drives away before he could watch you walk into the door and for you to wave your goodbye. You place your rain-soiled shoes by the door and sigh heavily, staring into the bright light in the vestibule welcoming your arrival home. Before you can commence to daydream about your fifteen minute ride from heaven, your Mom’s voice breaks your concentration, “[Y/N]!! Sheena’s on the phone for you!”

Let the fun times begin.

—

Not-so-fun times are happening at the bar: all you’ve noticed are football staff trailing in and out of the adjacent restaurant. Nothing excites you until you spot the head coach of Philadelphia’s football team sitting with the agent of the best wide receiver prospect in the draft. You reach for your phone to take notes but before you can jot down your scoop, you gasp: Brasco just followed you back.

A decade of unrequited love finally earns a respite. A high school crush that shook you down to the bones, a feign you couldn’t quite comprehend, sends your adult heart into beating in triplets. That cloud of nervousness that covered you as you ducked and dodged Brasco in those school hallways sends you into unwanted perspiration. You chastise yourself for feeling this way not knowing that the man responsible for those feelings is mulling away in the restaurant adjacent to you.

“Can I have a Maker’s neat, please?” Brasco’s nerves wreck him as he waits at a table for his date’s arrival. He seldom drinks but the need to calm down and relax overrides his moral compass. He scans the restaurant for his paramore knowing she’ll be easy to spot in a sea full of white men in sports polos and gym shorts. As the minutes tick away, he checks his Instagram to make sure she hasn't changed looks since the time he updated his feed. He goes back to your page instead, not only feeling compelled to reminisce some more but to get another look at you.

A photo of you wearing a Black mini-dress and strappy heels had Brasco’s antennas up. You long traded in those blue glasses for something more sophisticated but they still framed your face beautifully. Your breasts went from a single letter D to a double. Brasco noticed those first. It took him back to that day at Lisa’s house, the day you showed up in a red bathing suit that led to a scolding like no other. Nerdy [Y/N] had a body on her and as you secretly planned, it caught Brasco’s attention.

He let out a faint “fuck” as you tossed your t-shirt and demin shorts onto the picnic table. He wanted to play those sweet splashy games alongside you but again, boys from his side of town didn’t know how to swim. His left hand twitched when you hopped out of the pool, body drenched in chlorine. That red bathing suit barely held on to your goodness. Brasco hoped for a slip. He was ready to risk it all until your Mom showed up to whisk you away.

Little did he know that he wouldn’t see you – or his friends – ever again. But yet the girl who once re-calibrated his desires sits just mere feet away from him and he doesn’t even know it.

taglist: @ghostfacekill-monger, @blackburnbook, @twistedcharismaaa, @sheabuttahwrites, @keiva1000, @chaneajoyyy

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes x reader #it's been a long time #trevante rhodes #nebraska williams

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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tpwkxxangel · 3 years

Text

Is this the real life? pt. 4

**not my photo**

my masterpost; fic masterlist; part 1; part2; part 3

[warnings: alcohol consumption, language, angst?]

Screaming, crying, throwing up. Multitasking if you will.

That’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past 24 hours. I’ve been going through the motions of life trying to hold myself together instead of going into a fangirl meltdown. Since I read Harry’s message, my brain has gone blanks.

@/Harry_Styles: Hey Y/N! I was just wanting to check in and see how you were doing after the show last night? -H

Such simple words that caused my brain to malfunction.

He knows I exist. I know that’s so stupid of a statement to finally absorb when I literally held a conversation with him, but how am I expected to function now that he knows I exist?

What makes matters worse, is that I haven’t even told the group chat. I can’t just shoot a text saying ‘Hey! My day’s been great. The meeting went well, I got an extra set of those cool detachable erasers ... oh and Harry DM’ed me on Twitter.’

That would not go over well at all. Luckily we have our weekly zoom session tonight so I can discuss the knowledge of my existence with them face to face.

Now what makes me nervous is the fact that I’ve left him on read for more than 24 hours now. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me now? What if I took too long and he forgot about me? What if--

I physically shake myself from my thoughts. My friends will know what to do. I pop the bottle of wine open and grab the bottle and a glass before making my way to my room. We have our ‘Weekly Wine Night’ as Dove calls it.

I pull up the zoom app on my laptop before starting the meeting and sending everyone the link. It usually takes them a few minutes to join, so I pour myself a hefty amount of wine in the glass before taking a leisurely sip.

“Hey bitches! Who’s ready to get fucked up?” Rachel raises her own glass of pink wine to the camera as everyone pops up.

We all laugh at her antics. She’s often the first one to pop the bottle and last to put it down. A party animal through and through and we couldn’t love her more.

“Ugh, can I go first this week? I have to tell you guys about the customer that I had to deal with on Wednesday,” Katie rolls her eyes, “It was like a wild Karen entered the building and I was not having it!”

She proceeds to tell us about a woman who entered her arts and crafts store to pick up an order, but wouldn’t leave once she received it. She tried to get a refund and store credit when she threw a fit over nothing.

We all laugh and talk about other stories of our week, some about people from high school who were blasting their lives all over Facebook.

For the first time since his message, I actually feel somewhat centered. We all met about two years ago. We were all placed into a group chat with a very very controlling fan. She branded herself as the ‘leader’ of our group when we were all trying to have fun on Twitter. When Harry started to promote his new album, the fans went crazy with new theories about the tracklist and things. She stole all our ideas and tweeted them as her own. It was just a very toxic environment, so we were sure to move chats and block her from all platforms.

“Anything interesting on your end, Y/N?” Dove asks noticing my far off expression.

“Um,” I take another sip of wine hoping to ease the words that come next, “I received an interesting DM yesterday.”

“Was it from that account that got suspended and is trying to get their ratio back using their back up account again?” Sofie rolls her eyes.

I laugh, because I did get one of those yesterday too, “No, no, um, this one was from Harry.”

Everyone quiets down. I think they are waiting for me to say ‘just kidding’ or ‘gotcha’ but I figured I might as well tell them now before I ignore Harry anymore.

“You’re joking right?” Katie asks.

I shake my head pulling up the chat to show them. “I low-key wish I was, but” I hold up my phone and show them the screen.

It’s like proof was all they needed to unfreeze.

“Y/N! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?” Dove shouts into the screen.

I hold my hands up in defense. “I didn’t know how to handle it! I’ve been in love with this man since I was like 13 and now, he’s messaging me over Twitter and not remaining the fictional character in my head! What am I supposed to respond?” I pout in defense.

Rachel rolls her eyes, “What’s the real reason?”

Ugh. Leave it to your friends to see through your pretenses.

I look down for a moment at the intimidating message. “It should be simple right?” I look back up at my quiet friends with a fake smile. “I’m a fan of his who has followed his every movement throughout the years. I’ve built up an immunity to his surprises, so why is it so hard to believe he would want to check up on me? Why would he give me the time of day after everything was done with back at that stadium?” I shrug with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Okay first off, you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met and he should feel lucky to even talk to you,” Dove says calmly, “Secondly, this is very much real, and you have a chance to talk to him.

“Yeah,” Katie tags on, “He wouldn’t have sent you that message if he truly didn’t want to hear back from you.”

“Oh my gosh! Do you think he was looking on stan twitter hoping they would find your user?” Rachel asks.

“That sounds a little far fetched,” Sofie says unsure.

“Oh I’m pretty sure he has a stan account floating around somewhere. He knew we measure his life according to his hair length,” I roll my eyes at the memory. I take another sip of wine and look up at the ceiling before sighing. “I’m gonna message him.”

A round of cheers sounds while I think of a reasonable response. How the heck to I do this?

@/yourusername: Hi Harry! I’m doing well. I flew back home yesterday, so I wasn’t able to get back to you sooner. The post concert depression is hitting, but I’m super excited to see you next week. Hope you’re doing well!

“There. I sent something,” I lift the phone up to show them before putting it face down on my desk, “He’s probably doing singer things you know. Like I probably won’t hear back from him anytime soon. Maybe he didn’t even notice I didn’t message back right aw--”

The sound of a tweeting bird interrupts me. We all look at each other wide eyed.

“Y/N?” Katie quietly whispers, “Who was that?”

Sofie’s face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, Y/N, who just DM’ed you?”

I shake my head, eyes still blown wide in slight panic, “I’m too scared to look.”

“Don’t be a baby! You already kept them man waiting for 24 full hours!” Rachel laughs.

I finally relent and pull up the chat.

@/Harry_Styles: I’m so glad to hear you’re back home safe. I was a little worried about leaving you at the stadium that night. What show will you be at next week?

I read aloud for my friends. It was almost like he was waiting on my message.

“He’s totally trying to spark conversation with you,” Rachel says.

“Shut up. This is not a rom com,” I sigh.

“What are you gonna say back?” Dove asks.

“Yeah, I think you should say--” Sofie is cut off by Katie clearing her throat.

“Listen. Why don’t we not crowd her. Let’s continue our wine night and she can talk to us if she really wants our help.”

I send her an appreciative smile. It’s almost like she read my mind. I think just having them here is already helping me gain control on my thoughts. Emotional support is what I needed.

They all fall into easy conversations again, but I can tell they are all keeping an eye on me.

@/yourusername: I’ll be in Nashville for both shows! I’ve always wanted to go, so I’m flying in a little early to explore a bit.

@/Harry_Styles: Nashville is super fun! It’s one of my favorite places to stop on tour!

We go on like this for a few minutes. He tells me about some of the cool places he’s seen in Nashville and giving some tips on where to get the best vintage thrifting done.

I finish my second glass of wine while waiting on his next response to come in. This is surprisingly easy. I thought talking to him would be more difficult but he’s honestly down to earth. It doesn't feel like I'm messaging my crush-to-end-all-crushes. The wine is probably helping a bit too. Might as well start on a third one. I’ll just work from home tomorrow.

It takes Harry a little longer to respond, so I tune back into my friends. Dove is telling an animated story about her dog who my phone chimes again.

“Guys!” I nearly throw my phone across the room when I read the message.

“What’s up?” Dove asks taking in the pure shock written on my face.

I read them the message Harry just sent.

@/Harry_Styles: They have a really cool rooftop bar that you should check out. Let me know when you fly in and I could probably show you if our schedules match up?

“Correct me if I’m wrong but that just sounds like Harry Styles just asked to take me to a rooftop bar next week.”

tag list: @harry-is-my-sunflower @gucci-hazza @sunshinetemptress9 @damnasstyles @msolbesg @hi-yekaterina @imaginesofdreams @multiplums @gxldenxash @infinitely-yellow @hoseokjin194 @onecrazydirectioner

#harry fanfic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harrystyles oneshot #is this the real life hs #harry styles blurb

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Siblings (4)

I am sorry for not posting in a while. School is a total bitch. Here is part 4 of a fic that is not a fic.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)

-------

Tall Marinette.(I admit I might be projecting a little here.)

One day, she took out something from someplace high and the whole family realized that ‘holy shit when did you get so tall?’

Bonus if Jason comes back from a long mission and had a wtf moment because she was wearing 6-inch-heels and met his eyes with them on.

“Pixie?!”

------

You know how Bruce has the identity of Matches Malone to infiltrate the Gotham Underground.

While Jason does the drug deals more street crime stuff, Maria uses an excuse of being the representative for Red Hood excuse to mingle with the rich people who does crime on the side (Penguin), she uses it to go to black market auctions and buy some of the lost miraculouses which got into the hands of black market dealers.

Jason knows about it and acts as her ‘bodyguard’ anytime he can or sends one of his henchmen to be one with a death threat if she gets a single scratch on her.

Bruce is unaware of this. Or is he?

------

Mari helps with running WE since she is a little less busy with the vigilante side of things.

It started with Tim panicking about deadlines and Mari offering to help, to Bruce and Tim bullying the board to have her as co-CEO.

She has to be that and head of Afterlife. So she is very busy. Doesn’t know about what comes next….

------

Somehow the class comes to Gotham for a trip. It has been 3 years since her death.

Mari has changed her appearance since the day she left Paris. She has highlights in her hair after a ‘sibling bonding day’ with Jason. Her hair is kept short for convenience and not in pigtails. Along with her tall height and more confident aura, she is almost unrecognizable.

She rides a motorcycle too.

The class waits in the lobby for the tour and in walks this badass woman with aviator sunglasses, leather jacket and designer clothes which was all MT brand, making a lot of people swoon.

She takes off her glasses and walks past the class. Checking stuff on her phone and sipping coffee in her other hand.

She seems familiar but they couldn’t figure out why. (All except Chloe, Alix and Felix who are snickering in the background.)

Lila sees her and comments on how she must be a criminal with the way she dresses. (Lila internally freaks out because were her eyes messing with her? Because she looked a little like Marinette. Also jealous of the new arrival for stealing all the attention.) Alya takes the bait and calls security to ‘arrest’ her.

They just laugh. The class doesn’t understand, speaking in confused French.

-------------

“I am Maria Todd-Wayne, also known as designer MT. CEO of Afterlife and co-CEO of the very company you are in. I am allowed in here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said in perfect French.

“But Lila told us you can’t speak French.”

“Who?”

“Lila Rossi, your friend. She told us that you and MT were dating.”

“Me dating myself. Okay I love myself because self-love is a thing but that is a whole other level. MT are my initials. Anyone who has a brain could have figured that out or at the very least do a Google search. I am not sure where your friend got that notion.”

“Hey, Bean, come on. We have a long day ahead of us.” Tim reminded her.

“Goodbye but cease the rumours or you would be escorted off the premises.”

As they rode up the elevator, “Tim, why are they here?”

“They are the lucky winners of the Wayne Enterprise Young Prodigies Contest. Why, Maria?”

“Lucky, huh.” She muttered under her breath. She might as well tell him. They are the Bats and they will find out anyway. “They are from my old class, the one you know…”

“Oh. Want me to send them back? I can do that if they are making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Too much to deal with. And it is unfair to send them back over a petty grudge. Besides, I could have some fun.”

“Anything that Bruce and I should be worried about?”

“I swear no killing. Just because Jason came back from the dead, hell-bent on killing. Doesn’t mean I am too.”

“Cool, just don’t do any property damage or traumatize our employees.”

“I might need you to erase some footage later and tell Bruce about this.”

“Some brownies, my favourite coffee cake, the ‘special’ brew and you have yourself a deal.”

-----

So basically she just showed up around where the class was ‘by coincidence’.

Talk to a few people and take them out of earshot of the rest of the class.

End the conversation by saying a few things only they and her would know. Insides jokes and secrets. (I pick her old childhood friends like, Nino, Kim and maybe Sabrina)

Uses Trixx to turn into a walking dead version of her 15-year old self and disappears as they freak out about how she knew that secret/story.

Freaks them out further by appearing again in front of the whole class and pretending not to know their previous conversation.

Mari manages to get Lila alone.

I should also say that Lila thought that her curse was making her see MT as Marinette.

It terrifies Lila when she finds out that MT is actually Marinette, not dead but alive after all this time and apparently living the high life she wanted. This fact made the Italian swell up with jealousy.

“I hope you are not lying about me again, Lila Rossi. Like you always do.”

“What do you want with me? I swear I didn’t say anything else about you.”

“Aw, Lila. Don’t recognize me?”

Maria flickers and Ladybug is in her place and later, the Marinette that appeared in her bedroom and back to normal.

“You! How? Why are you here? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Why not? I mean you did take away nearly all my friends, my parents and made my life a living hell. If you think about it, I am just repaying you the same favor. How are the others? Treating you well?”

“What did you do to me, you bitch?”

“I just put a curse on you. The ghosts of your past will haunt you until you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop Lying, Liar. They all feed and grow in power from your lies. I wonder what would happen in a few years if you kept this up.”

“You think you can get away with this. This is war and I have already beaten you once.”

“Oh Rossi. This isn’t a war. It’s a death sentence.” With that she disappears.

Lila tries to tell her class that MT is actually Marinette. She is met with crazy looks. Some of them look like they want to believe her but don't because they don’t want to look crazy too.

Oh. Adrien wasn’t on the trip because his mother didn’t want him to go to the crime capital of America although the crime rate has gone down a little due to Hellbat curing some of the city’s bad energy..

Right after Lila told the class about MT, Scarecrow came to steal some Wayne tech and the class got caught in the crossfire. So later, it was brushed off as Lila seeing things due to the fear toxins.

-----

Joker made the mistake of kidnapping her. Once was enough to never try that again.

(It involved the use of nearly all of the Miraculouses, old and new. He was thoroughly humiliated at the end of it and his picture by the time Hellbat was done with him was on the Batfam’s Christmas Card. Like I said she doesn’t kill but making them beg for death was okay.)

It coincided with Jason’s Birthday and the video of the incident was ‘the best birthday present ever.’ The uncensored version was watched at the next undead siblings bonding day. Damian included.

After hearing a few rumours about what happened, most criminals were glad for Hellbat’s rare appearances. (which happens once a month and during really busy time of the year)

There was a time where Penguin was carrying out one of their plans and when Hellbat showed up, all of their thugs surrendered instantly. (No Batman did not pout at the fact that this French girl was more imitating than him.)

Scarecrow used his newest batch of fear toxin on her during the first year after she died.

He was astounded to see her still standing and she later proceeded to beat the crap out of him while being under the toxin’s influences.

He has tried to stay out of her way since then.

She saw Scarecrow as Hawkmoth and said a lot of things in French which scared everyone because she said it with so much hate, anger and in a very menacing tone that everyone is like ‘I am not touching this.’

It took Red Hood and Nightwing to restrain her from further beating Scarecrow up.

He was one of the people who sympathised with the Joker after the Incident.

The next was Riddler being so arrogant in his plans and managed to get Hellbat and Spoiler into a death trap.

“You know I have a few regrets in life. And my final one is that I got captured and am now going to get killed by a walking fashion disaster.”

“Hey! I made this myself. I will have, you know.”

“You have a brilliant mind but no sense of fashion at all. When I get out of here, I am going to burn that thing with you in it, for your crimes against fashion.”

“What is wrong with it?”

Cue a lot of roasting of Riddler’s costume and Spoiler adding more fuel to the fire.

They manage to escape while Riddler is crying on the floor, having an existential crisis.

The thing was no one knows why Riddler was silent the entire week after encountering Hellbat and crying when anyone mentions it.

They now think Hellbat is the scariest one in the Batfamily, second to Batman and tied with Black Bat/Orphan.

The few who find out what really happened in the warehouse that night. Blackmail material on the Riddler.

Three ( four if you count Penguin) of Gotham’s biggest villains of the Rogues Gallery scared of Bats’ newest addition. Hellbat was not someone they wanted to mess with.

---------

Magic crisis stuff. Like a world ending event thing. Dr. Fate says they need the Miraculous jewels but the last mention of them had been in Paris a few years ago and had vanished since then.

Costantine looked at Batman. “You know who you have to call.”

Batman calls Hellbat. Who hasn’t been introduced yet to the JL.

“Ah. Bats. Not that I question your authority or anything but how can your newest ‘ward’ help us?”

She takes off her helmet and reveals her face and more importantly, her earrings.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place.

“I am the current Guardian of the Miracle Box and wielder of the Ladybug miraculous during Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris a few years ago. Any other Questions?”

“Oh great Guardian. Tikki. It is an honour to meet you.”-Wonder Woman, who else.

“You too, Princess Diana. Pass on my regards to your mother.”-Tikki

A huge face-off and the big evil is defeated.

WW asks abt HM and gives a horrified face at the end of her story. Nearly everyone who eavesdropped on the conversation was.

"Forgive me, Guardian for not aiding you in your hour of need.”

“It’s okay. I understand that there are other crises, world-ending ones that JL have to take care of. I am better now. Mostly.”

“I doubt it with those revenge schemes I found lying around. But she is getting there with her therapist.”-Batman

“I hate you, Dad.”

“Did you just call him Dad?”

“No….”

“Do you see me as a father figure?”

“I see you as a nuisance with how nosy you are with my personal business. So you are more of a bother figure.”

“I see you as part of the family too, Daughter.” (Got that reference anyone?)

“Jason was the one who adopted me.”

“Legally you are adopted by me.”

Maria with Pikachu surprised face because nobody told her that. “My life is a lie.”

-------

(Part 5)

#graveyard sibling #platonic jasonette #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic daminette #platonic timinette #some class salt #lila salt #lila bashing #joker doesn't look good here either #platonic! jasonette #siblings jasonette #platonic timminette #marinette and stephanie teaming up to rip into Riddler's costume

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

Text

Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fic #black widow #mcu #mcu fic #black widow movie #erin takes requests #bianca my love #erin writes

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Note

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words. “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.”

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