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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

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Let Me Love You.

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader AU.

Run-through: Things happened between you and your boss over a weekend recently; while on a business trip. Boundaries were crossed, lines were blurred – rather salaciously. Following this; you decide to resign from your dream job because you couldn’t handle the guilt of having been so unethical. So vulnerable and open. Neither could you handle his burning stare at work, nor the craving of being under him each time you looked at him. So you decide to leave before you ruin your own career and further. But then, your boss shows up at your doorstep – determined to make you realize that this isn’t so bad after all…

Themes: smut, fluff, ceo!bucky (because I miss him)

You felt awful as you stepped into your apartment.

Sighing as you looked around; thinking about how the job you just quit had paid for this lavish home you owned currently. Removing your shoes by the door, dropping your bag and keys beside them you lazily crossed your spacious living room and stepped into the main balcony.

Given you were high up, the view you had of the city was to die for. The sun was going down, and usually you loved sunsets but you couldn’t appreciate this one as much as you wanted to. You were stressed; now jobless.

You thought back to the past week you had just hustled through. Monday was weird; he avoided you like the plague. Tuesday was the same, except you caught him staring in your direction while in a rather important meeting. Wednesday, he still didn’t say a word – except for his usual demands which being his PA you had to meet. Thursday he didn’t come to work; which then gave you more time to think about everything which happened recently, allowing you more time to feel guilty and weird.

And today, given it was Friday he was the busiest he’s been all week. Yet despite that, he managed to send you looks which spoke volumes even in crowded rooms. And you couldn’t take it anymore. You believed you were someone who wouldn’t be able to mix work and pleasure and find a healthy balance, so for the sake of your own peace of mind; you produced a resignation letter and placed it on his desk when he wasn’t in his office. And you left for the day.

You knew he always lingered at his office for a while longer on Fridays. So you were sure that by now he must have found your letter. You wondered if he felt just as awkward and weird as you did, and if so, then he’d accept your resignation without any hesitation.

You sighed one more time, taking in the cool air and the orange-pinkish sky. You walked back inside and decided that soaking in warm water and essential oils would make you feel a little better. So that’s what you went for.

Thoughts of him filled your head as you soaked in the warm bath water. Your boss. James Buchanan Barnes; powerful name for an equally powerful man. He was the kind of person you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Respect, fame, wealth, authority, power; he had it all.

And recently, just a week ago, he had taken over you as well…

-Flashback-

Friday morning you came to work and found out that you would be accompanying your boss on a short business trip. You didn’t make a fuss, even if it meant sacrificing your days off. The paycheck you received each month made up perfectly well for it.

Paris for weekend, to attend a business conference didn’t sound so bad after all.

“Sir, I’ve just been notified that you’ve cancelled the hotel reservations?” you questioned while scrolling through your mails. While you were just a little confused by this, the man in front of you was clearly not.

Sat across you on the dark seat; well-groomed as always – dark suit, perfect hair, perfect face, strong jaw and strong built. He looked like he could be on a magazine cover. Pure, drop dead gorgeous male. Many of your friends often asked you how you kept your calm and composure around him, and how could you not want to jump his bones all the time. To which you answered; you didn’t see your handsome boss in that light.

But oh did you lie.

You were human. And you did find your boss to be super attractive just like the rest of the world did. But did you do anything about it? No. Firstly, that would be highly unprofessional. Secondly, he was way out of your league. Still, it was hard being around a man this handsome. Knowing he was single and available made it worse.

“I did.” he answered, just as confidently as he did everything else. “It’s just one night, Y/N. We’ll stay at my penthouse.” He stated.

You nodded and replied back to your assistant who had initially emailed you about this sudden change. ‘We’ll stay at my penthouse’…

You had shared residence before. Once you spent the night at his mansion because of work load. Then another time you two shared a cabin while on a trip. Once you shared a hotel room because separate rooms weren’t available. But this, today seemed a little different. And you couldn’t place a finger on what it was.

It didn’t rub you the wrong way or anything. He just seemed so cheery, which was unlike the normally slightly grumpy man. But then again, who were you to question his decisions? So you went along.

You two landed in Paris on Saturday morning. The conference was to be held on the same evening, followed by a formal party of some sort, then the two of you would be making your way back home by Sunday evening. Quite a tame weekend… until it wasn’t.

Throughout the whole conference, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from across the room. Meanwhile you were talking to an acquaintance – legal advisor of one of the many businessmen who were attending the same conference as your boss. Steve was a friend of a friend but you two were currently bonding more and more due to work.

And little did you know, that Bucky hated it.

He was watching. He’s always watching you. Not in a creepy manner, in a protective way. As a woman, you were somewhat oblivious to the effect you had on people when you entered a room. You never noticed it, but your boss did.

Bucky knew how every man turned their heads to look at you. How every woman envied you. And it was never about what you wore, or how you did your hair. It was always about how you carried yourself, how you walked so confidently, how you were always polite and proper. And so beautiful.

As much as he liked showing you off, Bucky hated it when he wasn’t the only one who had all your attention. Like right now. He clenched his jaw as he studied how this man approached you. Blonde hair, tall and muscular – Bucky hated him immediately. He hated him a little more after he saw how the guy hugged you; a lingering hug which Bucky never got. Then he hated him a little more when he saw how you dragged your hands down the guy’s arm, refusing to let go of him.

You never touched him like that. Bucky asked someone close by and he was told that the guy you were talking to was someone named Steve Rogers, and he was a lawyer and an acquaintance of yours.

Hmm.

He tried to look away but he couldn’t. Bucky envied the guy talking to you. He didn’t like how close he was standing to you. He didn’t like how he kept his hands at your elbows so gently, caging you, keeping you to himself. He hated it.

Then he asked you about it on the elevator, as you two made your way up to his penthouse to get changed and ready for the party later.

“You know Rogers?” he asked out of nowhere. His tone just as serious and cold as always.

“Yes. He’s… a friend.” You smiled innocently, thinking back to how you and Steve had successfully broken the ice earlier.

Silence.

You each took a room inside his lavish penthouse apartment. You immediately loved the place. You had about two hours before the party so there was no need to rush. You took your time, yet your mind couldn’t help but drift towards how your boss has been acting in the past hours. First he was all cheery and warm, and now he’s back to his grumpy self.

Oh well.

You stepped out of your room just in time, your boss was waiting by the foyer dressed in a signature, all black, 3-piece suit. He looked devilishly handsome.

“You look lovely, Y/N.” He said softly as you walked towards him. You couldn’t help but smile and tried to hide your face by looking down at the marble floor. Before you could recover from his rare compliment, he reached for your hand and walked the two of your towards the elevator again.

You noticed it then. The shift between the two of you.

The party was amazing. Lovely people, lovely music, nice conversations; what more does one need? Then again, you could still feel a pair of eyes on you. At some point, you dared to look up and you made eye contact with your boss.

He was staring with an unreadable expression on his face. You shook it off and went back to the conversation you were currently part of, but you could tell he hadn’t stopped staring at you.

You two met on the elevator again after the party, on your way up for the night.

“You and Rogers seem close.” He pointed out.

You were surprised at the tone he used – that of disgust and anger. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

He scoffed, then turned to you. “Is something going on between you two?” Same tone as before.

Your eyes widened. “No. No, what makes you say that?” part of you wondered why the hell was he so suddenly interested in your personal life.

“Just asking.”

You couldn’t help it. “Are you alright, Mr. Barnes? You haven’t been yourself in the past-,”

He cut you off abruptly. By backing you into the corner of the elevator, the cold metal pressing against your back as his warm hand held you gently at your waist.

“Am I alright?” he mocked in that authoritative voice of his. “No, Miss Y/N. I’m not alright.” He confessed. “I’m not alright with you being so close to me, yet not being able to touch you. I’m not alright with seeing other men making you smile,” he inched his face closer you yours, “making you laugh, dance with you, touch you like I can’t. I hate it.”

His warm breath fanned your face. And as the metal cage got higher and higher, your heartbeat increased in the same tempo. Racing. Rushing. Your thoughts were a mess. Your body was tingling, he was so close. Too close. And you could feel yourself giving into him already.

And you did eventually.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you asked in a whisper, and you heard his little chuckle under his breath. This could be a wrong idea, but it felt right. You looked up into his piercing stormy blue eyes and you saw it; the hunger, the desire, the need.

You were sure yours mirrored the same emotions. Bucky pulled away just for a second, to press the key to stop the elevator from moving upwards any further. Then he turned to you again. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered against your parted lips, barely touching them with his own but the proximity was enough to make you lightheaded.

You nodded quickly and his mouth was on yours immediately. His lips moved against yours perfectly. He slipped his tongue past your lips and stroked the top of your mouth, driving you crazy. His kiss was just how you imagined it would be; hot, passionate, and exciting.

Your hands found their way into his hair and your fingers ran through his soft locks. He pushed his muscular body into yours even more and you gasped as you felt how close he actually was. His body heat wrapping around you.

His hands slowly reached up and slid the straps of your satin gown down your shoulders, letting it fall and bunch around your waist. He had been wanting to do that all night, especially since he saw you dancing with that guy Steve.

Bucky smirked at the sight of the flimsy, lacy lingerie you had on; which he was sure he could tear off your body in less than a second. And he did, allowing the thin material to fall to the floor. He gently touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. His lips trailing down your neck; kissing, licking and biting.

His mouth didn’t leave your skin as his hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. His hand slipped into your underwear with no shame, his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He chuckled upon feeling just how aroused you were. “So perfect…” he whispered.

He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. You whimpered quietly against him; your gown barely covered your body. But Bucky was nowhere near complaining. In fact, he had been thinking about what you looked like under that dress since the first time he saw you this evening.

His hand gently wrapped around your throat. He gave it a little squeeze and an involuntary, playful smile formed on your face. His smirk grew, and so did the fire in him. “Like it when I choke you, huh doll?” he spoke, dragging the tip of his nose along your jaw as his other hand slipped under your skirt and rubbed your clothed core. He couldn’t take it any longer. “I need to have you.” he growled. “Now.”

He pushed his two fingers past your entrance with ease and moaned right in your ear as he felt your wet and warm walls immediately welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots which made you weak in the knees. You bucked your hips against his hand involuntarily, and he chuckled as you moaned out loud while he touched you.

Feeling more confident than earlier, you quickly unbuttoned his pants, palming him through his underwear and feeling his erection. You smirked to yourself as he grunted the moment you touched him.

“I want you…” you mumbled breathlessly. All your worries and overthinking left behind, you wanted him bad. And that’s all you could think of at the moment.

Bucky smirked. He lowered his pants and underwear, then he hurried in pulling down your underwear, letting it all fall and pool around your ankles. You stepped out of it and Bucky picked you up by your thighs and kissed you deeply while holding you between him and the metal surface tightly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms held on to him tightly. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you whimpered through the kiss. Bucky needed to be in you already, all he wanted was to hear you scream his name as you cum around him. So he wasted no time in aligning his throbbing tip to your dripping wet entrance.

He pushed himself into you; stretching you out. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours scratching at his shoulders as he filled you up; making you whine and moan as he went. You were both gasping by the time he filled you up entirely. His body didn’t feel as foreign as you expected. You two fit perfectly.

Bucky started rocking in and out of you, without wasting any time. You felt all of him; your walls clenched around his thick cock as he started out with slow strokes and then gradually sped up into you. You felt all of him, the bumpy and the velvety skin of his length. He was perfect as he stroked your walls with his pulsating cock. You were a moaning mess in no time.

His strong arms supported you up by grabbing you at the curve of your ass; holding you against him, as he sped up into you; showing you how much he missed you. He pushed his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath, all while occasionally mumbling how much he loves you and how good you feel wrapped around him.

He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your hand slid into his hair and you tugged on it each time he pushed into you. You soon felt the familiar pressure forming; pressing inside you as the familiar warmth spread all over your body. You moaned wantonly.

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure; your mind a foggy mess. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace; earning even more moans and mewls from you.

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust; it hurt just a little. Your body moved along with his like a rag doll. And you never complained once. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused and the sounds of your skin clapping against each other – it was all too sinful.

He moaned right into your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back like it always did no matter where he took you. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you relentlessly. The pleasure built nicely as he took you higher… and higher… and higher. Until you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.

And that was one of the many times he made you cum around him that night…

-End of flashback-

Fuck…

You shivered in the warm water at the thought of him deep inside you; how perfect he felt, and how you never wanted to leave that bed with him in it. But then, you thought about how wrong that was; how you shouldn’t have gotten so intimate and personal with your boss. It was wrong, and unethical and a terrible mistake. But it felt good…

Stepping out of your bathroom, wrapped in a soft robe, you felt chills all over your body. Not because of the temperature, but because it felt as though you suddenly weren’t alone in your home. You panicked for a moment. Your heart racing, your thoughts racing faster.

Then you sensed it.

Sensed him.

He was here.

“Miss Y/N.” He spoke in that damn voice which could make you drop to your knees in less than a second.

Yet you managed to maintain your composure as you slowly turned around to face him. Realization hit you a little late, and you gasped under your breath when you finally saw him standing in the middle of your bedroom. Your initial reaction was to hug your robe tighter around your body.

He looked flawless and powerful as always. Hands shoved in his pockets; accentuating his broad shoulders. That gorgeous smirk on his face. Flawless hair. Flawless face. Bucky smirked. “Oh don’t hide from me. I’ve seen it all, haven’t I?” he teased so effortlessly.

You felt your face getting hotter under his intense gaze. “How did you… how-,”

He cut off your rambling. “I own the building, doll.” he answered like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Right. Of course he owns your apartment building. He also owns half the city.

There was an air of arrogance around him at all times. And you tried so hard to hate it, but you couldn’t. It suited him; the arrogance, the power, the authority. And he sure knew how and when to use it.

You cleared your throat as you kept your eyes focused on the ground, rather than look into his stormy blues ones because they were a new weakness of yours. “You shouldn’t be here.” You mumbled, not hating that he was here.

He scoffed. “Oh?” he raised an eyebrow at you and took a few steps towards you. You were surprisingly not hysterical about the fact that this handsome man found his way into your home out of nowhere. He walked over to you, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him.

You had no other choice but to look up into his ocean blue eyes and you could feel yourself melting already. He pulled you closer and leaned in, gently kissing along your jaw repeatedly. You closed your eyes and tried your hardest not to sigh in pleasure or moan as you felt the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble altogether.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered against your skin, stopping for a moment and kissed you at the corner of your mouth. His arms circled around you, holding you close to him. Your arms circled around him as well, slowly. You realized you had missed him as well. His warmth, his voice, his mouth. All of him.

And just like that, he took over your very being again. One touch of his lips and you were under his spell with no intention of making it out anytime soon. “I missed you too…” you whispered breathlessly as he kissed your lips gently.

But those few words from you triggered something in him. An irritation he had carried inside since he saw that letter of yours on his desk. Overflowing emotions he couldn’t handle; due to which he was here in the first place.

“Yeah?” he whispered through the kiss, then slide his hand into your hair and tugged on it to pull your face away from his. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you. He was conflicted, should he be mad that you even dared to think you could just leave him, or should he just fuck some sense into you? “Yet you dared to leave me your resignation with no warning?” Oh. “Huh? Is that how it is now, you think you get to decide everything?”

Oh. So he was mad.

“I didn’t mean-,”

He kept going. “Shut up, babygirl.” He spoke softly. “Now you listen to me,” he inched closer, gently biting your lower lip, “You’re not leaving me. You’re not resigning. You’re not going anywhere.” He stated, then pulled away to look at you again.

There was a fire in his deep blue eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.” You tried to come up with something. An excuse. You were looking for an excuse.

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong.”

He scoffed and then smirked again. “Is it? Does being with me feel so wrong to you now, huh?” he cooed, knowing it was only a matter of another minute or two before you give into him. “That wasn’t the case this past weekend, was it?” He moved the two of you backwards, towards your bed in the middle of the room.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for too long now. But you still tried, in vain. You sighed loudly, wrapped in his strong embrace. “You’re my boss.”

He chuckled. “I know that.”

“Exactly.”

“What?” he questioned, already untying your robe as he stopped at the end of your bed.

“You know what. How are we supposed to be professional at work if we’re sleeping together?” you asked.

He smirked looking down at you. “Then let’s not be professional.”

You sighed again. “It’s-,”

He cut you off with a kiss again, sliding your robe down your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Shh.” And just like that, you melted under his touch. “It’s okay babygirl, let me take care of you.”

He pushed you down on your bed and held your stare as he undressed himself; smirking as he watched how you grew more and more desperate with each item of clothing he took off. He hovered on top of you in no time.

Bucky lowered his face; pressing his forehead onto yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“Fuck…”

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours.

He removed himself and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you.

“Thought you could just leave me, huh? Thought I would let you?” he mumbled right in your ear as he fucked you relentlessly. “You thought I would let you go? Let someone else touch you, pleasure you, fuck you like this? Did you babygirl?” he growled. “Answer me!”

You whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. “No… please I didn’t-” you were breathless. You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. Your body moved against his like a rag doll.

He growled at how your walls clenched around him. “What? You didn’t what? You didn’t think I’d come back looking for you? You thought I would just let you go because you asked for it?” he accidentally let out a moan, followed by swear words. “You think you make the rules here, doll?”

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His blue eyes were wild and fierce; staring deep into your soul. His gaze made you tremble in pleasure. He looked so powerful. Broad and strong, hovering above you, his cock buried deep in you. Looking down at you like he owned you.

He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.

Your legs trembled as you lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you, and in the haze he was in, he managed to mumble right in your ear about how good you felt. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough.

At some point, right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he removed himself from you and flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips. He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again.

You moaned out loud at the new sensation of him rocking into you from behind. Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the thrill each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he bent down to whisper in your ear, “Can you feel me deep within you?” he boasted as he gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

“Please…” You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. And finally he let you, and you came undone all around him – moaning his name out loud.

You woke up an hour later, the sky was darker and you felt a lot better than you had all week. You turned to your side and found your handsome boss passed out next to you. A smile formed on your face involuntarily.

“Don’t just look, you can touch too.” His gruff voice spoke up a second later, his eyes still closed. You chuckled and snuggled closer to him.

“So what now?” you asked, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. His body heat was something you were quickly getting used to.

He took a deep breath, smiled and lazily reached over to place a kiss on your forehead. “Now you let me love you.”

#ceo!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #marvel au

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

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PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson.

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me.

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments.

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me.

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch.

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination.

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal.

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #bun writes #party favours #author doesn't advocate for small dick jokes but tbh the abusive fucker deserves it

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

Text

Fake It, Make It

A tropey Steggy Secret Santa gift for the excellent @sagesiren/@theeleganteuropeanwoman! Wishing you as good an end to 2020 as you can get, and an amazing 2021!! ✨✨✨

Summary: When Steve tells his mother that he is now dating a woman named Peggy Carter, his mother immediately wants to meet her. Which Steve would, of course, be perfectly happy to arrange, except that he is not in fact dating Peggy Carter (as much as he might want to be).

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Steve’s mother has been a nurse for thirty-three years. She’s familiar with the medical system and its limitations, and she’s a straight shooter even when it comes to her own mortality.

So when her doctor sends her for more tests after her annual physical, she mentions it to Steve during their weekly phone call.

“Dr. Nakhwa is worried,” she admits. “It’s bloodwork and scans now, but it might become something very quickly.”

“What can I do?” Steve asks, immediate and stricken. He had been trying to work on dinner as they talked, and his pot of water roils and hisses without answer.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything,” she assures him practically, then sighs, quick and heartfelt and without drama. “But if it is something, I’ll just be so sorry for all the things in your life I’ll miss out on. Your first gallery show—”

“Ma,” Steve protests. No one knows his art better than she does - she signed him up for all the free afterschool art classes and every summer camp they could afford, and there are still paintings of his stored in her apartment a decade after he moved out - but he got his practicality from her, started training in carpentry on the recommendation of George Barnes back when he was a teenager and knew that there wouldn’t be money for college. He’s been able to do more custom woodworking lately and word has been getting around about his skill, but he’s accepted that he won’t be making his living off of the fine arts.

Undeterred, his mother says, “Oh, hush, even hobbyists can have dreams. But if you don’t like that, I’d be happy to see you in a relationship instead. It would ease my heart to know that you’ve found someone who can be beside you.”

And because easing his mother’s heart has always been at the top of his priority list, Steve finds himself blurting, “I’ve actually been dating someone. Now. I’m dating someone now.”

“Oh?” she says keenly. “Well, I hope to meet them someday soon.”

Steve coughs. “I’m sure you will.” He hopes that he’s somehow magically become a better liar in the past thirty seconds than he was for the first thirty years of his life.

Seemingly forgetting her earlier seriousness entirely, his mother adds, “What can you tell me about them? Can I have a name at least?”

“Peggy Carter,” Steve says without pause.

Later, he will ask himself why he didn’t just lie. It’s too soon, I don’t want to jinx anything. We made a bet and I’m not allowed to say her name out loud for a week. She’s a spy and I can only tell you her alias. He will berate himself for not just diving for some sort of distracting conversational offramp: the still-boiling pot, the cat yowling down in the alley, “that’s not important now, what else did your doctor say?” But he will never wonder why this was the name which came out of his mouth. He never has to search for it. She’s always on his mind these days.

“Peggy Carter,” his mother repeats. “Well, I’ll be happy to meet her. I’m off two Saturdays from now, if the two of you would like to drop by for a visit.”

His mother is the only blood family he has, that he’s ever even known. He’ll do anything for her. Even, apparently, say yes to this.

His mother’s follow-up scans come back clear. She tells him that in one breath, and tells him in the next that she’s so looking forward to meeting Peggy this upcoming Saturday.

“I don’t want to put this off until the next time I have a health scare,” she says. “And I could tell she’s important to you just by the way you said her name.”

So in his relief at her news, and to his later horror, instead of saying that he and Peggy have broken up, instead of saying that she has an emergency, instead of saying that she’s gone back to England indefinitely and they’ll just have to do it some other time, he says, “We’re looking forward to it to.”

When Steve confesses his predicament, Bucky laughs so hard that he slips off of his stool at Finnegan’s and almost knocks himself out on the bar.

“Could you at least help while you’re doing that?” Steve asks, torn between impatience and desperation, but his best friend just collapses into laughter again.

His mother already knows most of his friends. He supposes he could hire someone, but that seems like it might be taking it a step too far. And anyway, he’s overwhelmingly thankful that his mother is still healthy; it seems ungrateful, a temptation of fate, to give more weight and trickery to the lie.

Which means that there’s really only one thing left to do.

It doesn’t mean he’s relishing the prospect under the circumstances.

(Though he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it under others.)

He asks Peggy Carter out for what’s probably the strangest date of her life and certainly the strangest of his on Monday, just as they’re finishing their lunch break. The rest of the crew, coolers over their shoulders, is already heading back over to the job site - Morita knocking his knuckles against that hideous brown hard hat of Dugan’s, Jacques explaining something as Gabe leans in - but Steve always does a quick sweep for trash just to make sure they’ve left the area clear. Peggy is heading in the other direction to track down Phillips. The boss is still legendarily prickly, but he doesn’t trust any architect but her these days.

“Peggy,” Steve forces himself to call before she’s disappeared. He wishes that this were just another one of those times that he had called her back for those innocuous, desperate five extra minutes of chatting. “I need to—Would you—Can I ask you a question? A favor, I guess?”

She tilts her head in invitation and he spills the story as quickly as he can, the rip-off-the-bandaid method.

“—and if you aren’t busy on Saturday, I was wondering if you could come over to say hi to her. It wouldn’t have to be for long, but it would make her really happy and I would—I’d really appreciate it. I can’t tell you how much.”

He stuffs his twisting hands into his pockets as he finishes, and pushes back his shoulders, hoping that he’ll still have a bit of dignity even once she’s rejected him. He doesn’t think she’ll be mean about it - he knows who Peggy is, the type of person to hand back hammers to the apprentices who’ve dropped them with a wordless wink, the type who lets someone else pick the takeout place if they’re having a bad day even when it’s her turn - but still, she’s Peggy Carter, and he’s Steve Rogers, the random guy who she knows from job sites and now the time he’d lied to his mother about dating her and then asked her to help him keep up the ruse.

“That certainly is a predicament,” she says instead of any of the gentle letdowns he was imagining. “But I must ask: why did you pick me?” It’s chilly today but bright, and the noon sun glints off her hair. He catches a smile, there and gone again, at the corners of her mouth.

“I said the first name that came into my head,” he tells her honestly, and then, just as honestly, “And I knew that my mother would like you, if you ever happened to meet each other.”

“Hmm,” says Peggy, smile all the way gone now, as if he’s disappointed her somehow. Her eyes are still soft, though. “Well, I suppose it’s quite lucky I am free on Saturday, then.”

“Lucky,” Steve echoes, and tries to figure out whether it’s true.

“You absolutely will not go out in this weather,” his mother admonishes, her arms set in a way that Steve is extremely familiar with.

“I’m certain that the subway—” Peggy starts.

“Of course the subway will be running,” Sarah says with the confidence of a born New Yorker. “Late and jam-packed, announcing that they’re going express any damn time, and there’s no reason for you to be on it.”

Peggy looks over to Steve as if he might step in, but even as he gives her a wide-eyed, helpless shrug, his mother is already leaving the living room and heading down the hall, calling, “I’ll get fresh sheets for you two, Steve, but please find Peggy something to wear.” (Sarah Rogers is surprisingly strong, but she’s also rail thin and an extremely charitable five foot two, and Peggy is...not. Something Steve has absolutely no complaints about, to be frank.)

They’ve told his mother that they’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months - Steve mostly left that part of the storytelling up to Peggy, who managed to spin something that had enough details to seem plausible but wasn’t so elaborate that Steve had felt bad about misleading his mother with a fairy tale. But even if their relationship was real, there’s no reason to assume that they would have spent the night with each other, that they would be comfortable sharing a bedroom.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Steve says immediately and with vehemence.

Peggy casts her eye over the couch, more of a loveseat really; the living room is too small for much else. “Will you be removing your head or your feet to fit, then?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Voice low to avoid his mother’s uncanny hearing, he says, “This whole day has already been more than you agreed to. I don’t want to force you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable.”

“I would say the same as it regards you,” she responds. “And if I was uncomfortable with the situation, I believe I would be the first to know. Now, I think I was promised something to sleep in?”

The collection of clothes he keeps at his mother’s is small, but he manages to dig up a large T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants for Peggy and the same for himself. She smiles at him, leaving to change, and he takes the opportunity to do the same before turning to put the sheets his mother had found on the beds, faced head-on with the reminder of the close quarters of his bedroom.

There isn’t much to see: his bed, the tiny closet, a dresser. He used to do his homework at the kitchen table because there wasn’t room for a desk. His bed frame had been a gift representing several birthdays and a Christmas as well, back in elementary school. Every other weekend, he would slide the trundle bed out, gleeful to finally have a chance to have sleepovers with Bucky somewhere other than in sleeping bags on the living room rug. The pull-out had used up all the extra floor space and he’d had to crawl off the end of the bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but when he and Buck were telling each other scary stories quietly enough that his mother wouldn’t hear or reading comics under the covers, taking turns holding the shared flashlight, what had it mattered?

It definitely seems to matter now.

He stares at the two beds, tucked compactly side by side, and realizes that soon he and Peggy are going to be lying in them. Even if he pushes them as far apart as possible, it would be barely two inches before the dresser got in the way. No matter what, their hands could touch across that gap. If she’s a mobile sleeper, they could end up practically curled around one another…

He scrubs a hand vigorously over his face, mussing his hair and probably leaving him red-cheeked, but gathering himself. He makes both beds with care, returning to the linen closet to add top sheets, comforters, and light blankets too; he has no idea how Peggy likes to sleep.

The thought leaves him wide-eyed once again, but it’s too late to force his thoughts elsewhere. Peggy knocks just then, and he tells her to come in, hoping that his voice sounds normal as he does.

“I should have gotten you a toothbrush,” he says immediately upon seeing her, ready to scramble over and take care of it, but she waves a hand.

“Your mother gave me one. She also added my clothing to a basket of laundry she was taking downstairs so I would have ‘something fresh to wear in the morning.’ She wouldn’t hear any protests.”

As if she couldn’t have already figured it out from everything else today, Steve says, “She’s like that.”

“Yes,” Peggy says, thankfully amused. “I assumed.” She turns to the beds and asks, “Now, which would you like?”

Which one he’d like? He can’t think of anything that could matter less. He lists for her the pros and cons of each bed with the care usually reserved for life-changing decisions. She follows along seriously, though he recognizes the touch of humor around her mouth.

Ten minutes later, he is lying on the trundle, and she has her back to him as she examines the spines of the books on the small shelf mounted beside his bed.

She has washed her makeup off and her hair is in a single, simple braid. He’s heard the guys on the crew refer to certain women as “unbelievably beautiful.” Peggy isn’t that. She looks exactly as pretty right now as he had imagined she would, exactly as pretty as she does in her jeans and sensible blouse and Day-Glo vest on the construction site, or the time he had seen her dressed up in a gown for some awards gala, or when he had picked her up that morning and saw her wearing that red sweater with a black pencil skirt and felt lucky just to be walking next to her.

Still, he does find looking at her just now a bit hard. Difficult, he amends quickly, shoving the word hard away. She’s somewhat difficult to look at like this, unraveled and lovely.

“How fantastically minded you were,” she comments, smiling over her shoulder before flipping over to face him. “Is this still the sort of thing you like to read?”

“I usually end up with a bit of everything,” he admits. “But yeah, there’s some great sci-fi and fantasy being written these days.”

“It can be nice,” she says, “visiting other worlds.”

“It can be,” he agrees, not telling her that that’s what today has felt like: however awkwardly, unconventionally attained, it’s been like a brief, wonderful visit to another world.

They were only meant to stay for brunch.

“Don’t cook anything,” he had begged his mother. She was always covering shifts for other people, running errands for neighbors when she wasn’t working, on her feet all day regardless. Having a day off where she hadn’t already scheduled sixteen things was something of a miracle, and he was going to force her to take advantage of it. “I’ll cook.”

Voice somewhat insultingly skeptical down the phone, she’d said, “So, do you already know that this woman has a cast-iron stomach, or are you looking to poison a guest in my home, Steven Rogers?”

In the end, they’d agreed that he would take care of picking up fresh bagels from their favorite place. Of course, when Steve and Peggy arrived, his mother had already set out lox, cut fruit and vegetables, hard boiled eggs, and about six different types of cream cheese.

“You promised not to make anything,” Steve said irritably, giving his mother a hug.

“I promised not to cook,” she corrected. “Boiling a few eggs isn’t cooking. Even you can do that, after all.” And Peggy laughed from beside Steve and stepped forward to introduce herself.

Steve had promised Peggy that they wouldn’t stay longer than a couple of hours, and so at exactly 1:30 he glanced noticeably at his watch and asked if she needed to go to “that other thing you had scheduled.”

“Thankfully not,” she smiled, finishing her piece of crumb cake (his mother swore she just happened to have it left over). “I postponed it, and I’m certainly happy that I did.”

And despite the situation, Steve was happy too - happy that she’d come, happy that she stayed. She and his mother traded stories about their respective jobs, lamenting that even though they were of different generations and worked in completely different fields, one with women as the majority and one with them in the minority, they had so many of the same experiences: dealing with stressed or snappish or condescending people, having their knowledge and authority questioned, and managing to get enormous, important work done skillfully anyway.

“I still love it,” Peggy had said as they moved from the kitchen table to the living room. (Steve barely thought about taking the seat beside Peggy, and then started overthinking why he hadn’t considered more.) “Despite everything, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Sarah, voice already fond, as if she’s known Peggy more than a few hours. “I wouldn’t either.”

They’d talked about how Steve had taken shop class in high school - a few knickknacks he’d made were even still scattered around the apartment for his mother to show off; when she’d passed one over to him, even though he recognized its amateurishness, he felt a tenderness fill him, as if he was holding the hand of a younger version of himself. When he passed it to Peggy, he felt the gentleness of her hand on it too.

Later, he would realize that it was a bit suspicious for him to talk about how he’d gone from an A- in Shop to a carpentry apprenticeship to starting to work with Phillips’s general contracting company: surely if they had truly been dating, they would have talked about it all at some point before. But in the moment all he saw was the flicker in her eye as she told him that, oh, she certainly remembered his first day working with the crew.

It wasn’t that they didn’t notice the weather turning - the first flakes fell as the light began dimming low and gray toward evening - it was only that they were a bit busy making hot drinks and setting up the Trivial Pursuit board. This was probably how Steve would have been spending his afternoon regardless, but he watched Peggy carefully for signs that she was eager for an escape and simply too polite to say so. He even leaned over when his mother excused herself briefly and asked whether she was sure she still wanted to stay, to which she had responded, “I’ll almost certainly have my sports and leisure wedge after my next turn. Why in the world would I leave?”

When Steve went downstairs to retrieve the Thai takeout they had ordered, he did see that it was getting pretty messy outside. The wind had a bite to it, too, so he gave his order of miso soup to the man who’d delivered the food alongside the tip, and decided to see if there was an extra pair of boots around for Peggy to use later.

But after they’d finished with their dinner and watching The Sound of Music, which had been just starting as they’d flipped through TV channels, his mother had turned to the nine o’clock news, saw how hard the snow was coming down, and refused to be persuaded that a change in footwear would be enough. Truthfully, Steve would probably have stayed without question if he had been by himself, but the fact is that he came with Peggy. Peggy, who had stayed long past the anticipated two hours. Peggy, who he was not actually dating. Peggy, who he was now meant to sleep beside.

“I’m sorry for the early night,” he apologizes again as they lie together in the darkness with the radiator hissing slightly. Not realizing how things would turn out today, he had scheduled a 9 A.M. consult with a couple who were looking to have some built-in bookshelves added and he has be up early enough to bring Peggy home and get back to his apartment to change before heading into Manhattan.

“It’s no trouble,” she assures him again. “There’s nothing at all the matter with getting a good night’s rest.”

“And I’m sorry again about everything. About how today turned out, and for getting you into it into the first place.”

“Oh Steve,” she sighs. “Will you shut up about that, please?” and even though her tone lacks sharpness, the words are enough for him to flip over toward her in surprise. “I truly enjoyed myself today. And I would have come even if you had simply asked me without any sort of exceptional circumstances.”

“What do you—?”

“I liked meeting your mother. She’s nothing at all like mine, which perhaps is why I appreciate her so much. I liked sitting around and talking, playing games and eating good food and singing along with Julie Andrews, and I liked spending time with you.” Her voice dips even softer. “I liked it all, and I would have come anyway, if you had only asked.”

With the cloud cover and the snow still coming down, the window lets in little light. He can’t make out her expression, can’t see if she’s just saying things out of tiredness, or reminiscing about a pleasant afternoon, or if she might just be hinting at something which would justify the elevated beating of his heart.

He nearly thanks her for being a good friend, but somehow, the way that she’s turned onto her side to face him as well, an invitation, makes him breathe in and say, “But you’re Peggy Carter. I don’t know why you would have bothered.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asks. He’s never heard her voice with that twisting edge to it and it takes a moment for him to recognize it: hurt. “That I’m some high and mighty miss, and I would never deign to even look at the likes of you?”

“No!” he says, not frantic, hard and simple and factual, trying to make her see. “It’s just that you’re Peggy Carter,” he repeats. “There are probably a dozen awards on your shelves. I’ve seen you skewer guys with a half dozen words for propositioning you, then get right back to work. Phillips doesn’t like anyone except his dog, but he turns down projects if you aren’t going to be working on them. You wanted to design buildings and you made that happen for yourself. You’ve worked on dozens of projects and they’re all different but I’ve wanted to stay in each one, even the offices.” His voice doesn’t drop as he continues, even as he half hopes that his words will be lost in the pillow beneath his head. “You’re creative and determined and gorgeous and fascinating and funny. Just talking to you should be any thinking person’s favorite thing. And I’m only a guy.”

She inhales deeply through her nose, as if she is trying to keep her temper somehow, but when she speaks, her voice is calm. “When there are novices on a job, you’re the one who helps them through their nerves and shows them the right way to do things. Other women have told me that they like to work on the same site as you because they know you would never make them uncomfortable and you’ve fought anyone who tried. After an evening out, you give your share of the tip and then stay behind and add a bit extra. You do it every time, Steve. I’ve watched you.”

“Anyone could—”

“The first day I met you,” she interrupts, “you introduced yourself to Mr. Jarvis. Most people don’t, you know. They’re too busy noticing Howard to even pay attention. The day after, you brought soup for Ana because you had heard she was ill. I don’t know anyone else who would have done that, bring soup for someone who he’d never met, the wife of the electrician’s admin he’d only known for a day.” Even with the hiss and clank of the heating, he thinks he can make out every dimension of the breath she takes in before she adds, low and direct, “You’re loyal and sharp and kind, you make wonderful art and adore your mother, and you’re so upstandingly moral I half expect you to ride into work one day on a white steed. Had you not kept moving away every time I tried to get near, I would have asked you out long ago. And if you had asked me all the way back then, before I knew anything else, I would have said yes too, just because of the soup.”

It’s been three years since he started working with Phillips, three years of watching from across construction zones as she cut stubborn men down to size with a sharp word (or her fist if necessary), of lingering at lunch for the chance to see her smile or hear her opinion on current affairs or some article that they had both read. All that time of thinking that she would never possibly consider him more than a friend, and she already had.

“Can I—” he starts, his hand moving tentatively into the tiny space between their beds. She catches his fingers with hers and lifts them to her mouth, placing a delicate kiss on the backs of his knuckles. His breath comes sharply into his lungs.

He has, a time or two thousand, pictured some imaginary world where she might kiss him one day. This isn’t at all how he envisioned it in any of those dreams - they were never in side-by-side twin beds at his mother’s house, for one thing.

Nothing in him cares.

When she says goodbye to him the next morning, his mother gives him an innocent smile and a reminder to drop by a Duane Reade for chapstick and...anything else they might need. He almost tells her that they were only kissing, but doesn’t think it will help. Besides, he was trying to avoid embarrassing details by stripping the beds before she woke up so she wouldn’t notice that the sheets had only been truly mussed on one.

(He wouldn’t have been expecting that sleeping in a narrow bed with Peggy half sprawled on top of him would be wonderful, but he’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t right about everything.)

Exactly fifty-one weeks later, his mother asks him how he and Peggy are celebrating their anniversary. He’s halfway through telling her before he realizes that she’s not supposed to know that it’s their anniversary at all, that she’s still meant to think they’ve been together a year and a half already.

“As if you’ve been able to lie to me once in your life, Steven Rogers,” she says with a laugh. “You said her name and I knew that you weren’t telling me the whole truth the same moment I knew that she meant something to you anyway. Now tell me about the ring.”

“How did you—?”

He has the feeling she’s waving a dismissive hand on her end of the phone. “Nothing in the world easier than reading you, sweetheart.” Her tone turns a bit thoughtful. “Peggy, on the other hand, she’s a bit harder. But even that first time you brought her here, I could tell. When the time comes for you to ask, she’ll say yes.”

She’s right.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #sagesiren

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-3)

Word count: 3.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, mention of depression

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Monday morning rose brighter than it had a right to be; to the point that the sun was stabbing you in the eyes. You had been over and over the plan in your head throughout the weekend. By now, you were absolutely sure that you had mapped every second of the day and nothing could go out of hand.

The plan went sideways almost as soon as it started.

You dropped your bag at the threshold of the lecture room with a loud crash. All of the last row turned to look at who was that much of a klutz. You did not meet anyone’s eye as you took a seat at the very end of the top row. Maybe that would make you inconspicuous.

It did not.

“Y/N!”

Madison slid next to you on the bench, followed by her brood of friends. Lacey and the other two, whose names you didn’t remember.

“How are you, Sweetie?” Madison asked sympathetically. “You looked awfully ill when you left the other day. We were so worried about you! Weren’t we, Mer?”

Meredith- you remembered her name now- did not look worried in the least.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“I was just really faint,” you answered automatically, having anticipated this. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you so much.”

Madison looked relieved. “I’m so glad, Y/N. I wanted to check on you over the weekend, but I didn’t have your number or knew where you lived. You have to give me your number right away.”

You did, and she texted you immediately.

“Awesome!” she said. “Now you have my number, too.”

You tried to smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, could you tell me what I missed in the two days?”

Madison became animated instantly. “Well, lets see. After you left, there was advanced legal writing by professor Mills, then Supreme Court Litigation by Professor Mcleod and Organisation and transactions law after that. Most of Friday was free except for another lecture by Professor Mills. I have the notes. Once you put your email id on the class database, I’ll forward mine to you.”

“That’s seriously more than I can ask from you,” you said, feeling small.

She placed her hand on top of yours. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Thank you!” You said, looking down.

Madison huffed. “You thank me too much, Y/N! Besides, you really didn’t miss any of the fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Winchester didn’t show up either,” Lacey giggled. “Didn’t we turn up fifteen minutes early for his class on Thursday? And the man never came.”

Your stomach lurched, a feeling you hadn’t quite experienced in years had you feeling lightheaded.

“Well, he didn’t completely disappear,” said the blonde. “He did turn up for the last half an hour of his lecture on Friday and outlined the syllabus of the semester.”

“He looked stiff and serious. Nothing like his first day here. And even that day he stormed off, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Madison nodded. “Right after you left, Y/N. It was a bit weird.”

You swallowed nervously, your forehead already clammed up. What was it? Was it fear or worry that you felt for Sam? You had been so wrapped up in your chaos that you hadn’t stopped to consider about Sam, assuming that he must have grown passive and wouldn’t care about the past anymore.

Sam had looked warm and at ease with himself that day, happy even, while you had only survived all these years. You’d be lying to yourself, if you said that the image of Sam on the podium, smiling at the students hadn’t felt like a knife in your gut.

But if he had not turned up for classes either… did that mean….

There was noise at the front and you saw Sam on the podium. He looked every bit as dressed up and neat as he had on your first day, if not a bit more severe.

He greeted the class curtly, and instantly jumped to the lesson. You tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away. It was harder still to keep looking. His features seemed more angular now, and he was definitely leaner than when you had first set your eyes on him. Today he was dressed in a dark grey suit and no tie, the button at his throat was undone.

He spoke for an hour about the merger of disputes and cases where it had benefited the original plaintiffs and not once did his eyes stray towards the corner of the class where you sat. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding that very portion of the classroom. He wasn’t genial today. A good teacher, just like he always had been, but absolutely formal. When the class ended, he retrieved the attendance sheet from a kid in the first row and exited the class.

“Well, that was quite intense,” whooshed Meredith. “Hadn’t pegged him for the serious sort.”

Blonde hair giggled at the double entendre, and you almost gagged.

“He’s actually quite good,” Madison murmured, uncharacteristically serious. “He knows what he is talking about.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded. Not that you had paid much attention to the lecture, what with your heart struck in your throat.

The classes that followed weren’t as eventful as the morning and you were more than grateful about it. The other professors all seemed so knowledgeable and expert. You had enough on your mind by the time you left the university, your plate already full of assignments.

When you got home, Meg was sprawled on one of the two sofas that came with the house and were perched in the living room.

“Hey,” you said tentatively.

Meg raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you were initiating a conversation after a whole week of thoroughly avoiding her.

“Hey,” she said.

You placed your bad and laptop on the side table at the entrance and went to sit on the empty sofa. “I’m sorry about not greeting you earlier… I was going through some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

The hurt must have shown in your eyes, because she straightened up into a sitting position.. “I’m not offended,” she said. “Locking myself in my room and avoiding human contact like it’s the fucking plague is my monthly PMS schedule. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed out.

Meg looked amused. “Your face is like an open book,” she said. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be a terrible lawyer.”

You didn’t fight her on it. It was a problem… it always had been. Over the years mostly it had been a blank and your boss had commented on your excellent poker face… but clearly even the dumb expressive face was back with all the feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re studying,” you changed the topic.

“MS, Applied physics.”

“Damn. That sounds hard.”

Meg chuckled. “You really think that, don’t you? You look terrified.”

You rearranged your expression into what was just polite interest. Enough with Meg’s expert face reading class.

“You wanna grab dinner?” Meg asked.

“Sure,” you said. “What’re we doing?”

“I made some stir fry. I didn’t know if you’d be up for dinner, though.”

You felt terrible about skipping the meals and in turn her company over the past week.

“No worries,” she said, getting up. “I’ll just toss some pasta and we’re good to go.”

“Hey, Meg?” You asked, “I see you’ve stocked up the pantry. It’s incredibly kind of you. I might drive to the supermarket tomorrow after classes, why don’t you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

She looked at you with some surprise and a hint of actual liking. “Sure. We can make a list over food.”

“Great,” you smiled.

The rest of the week passed without any more surprises, and you took your time to settle in… getting to know Stanford- both, the University and the town. You attended all lectures regularly and gave your hundred percent effort to every assignment.

In classes, you listened with utmost concentration… all except one. Civil Procedure wasn’t a lecture, it was slow seething torture. Watching Sam talk on the podium, interacting with students simply made it hard to breathe. The walls of the lecture room converged in on you while you gasped for air. On Sam’s part, he ignored you completely. It was as if you didn’t exist at all. Over the course of the week, his stiff, formal stance loosened and you could see more and more of the guy who had introduced himself on the first day. You didn’t know what you had been expecting from him? That one day he would suddenly look at you with hatred and throw you out of the class? That he’d lose his mind and yell at you? Ask you the questions that you didn’t want to answer?

But even for all that, he’d have to acknowledge your presence. Look at you. Somehow the ignoring and pretending that you didn’t exist was so, so much worse. It was killing you. Every second of the class, you fought your tears. However, you did not miss a single class.

Apart from those two hours everyday, you were doing well, all things considered. On Thursday, you packed more food than just your lunch, and after classes, walked to the Green Library. It was just as breathtaking as it had been on the first day. You set out to find that one table that felt right. After a quarter of an hour of testing and teasing, you finally found a desk that looked oh so inviting. It wasn’t the one below the tall, arching windows, but rather a small desk niched between the bookshelves. It was perfect.

You unloaded your bag, and set to work with the assignments that had been set for the class by Professor Mills. You personally thought Jody Mills was a total badass. She took up cases that others were too scared to touch. Her assignments didn’t require you to reference too many books, so you could make yourself comfortable in the chair. Your mind wandered as the time passed. There were a lot of things to be thought through. For starters, if you had to afford living here, you needed a job. Your savings would last a couple of months at most. The expense of moving across the country then having to pay for the lease of the apartment had taken a massive toll on your bank account. By the time holiday season began, you’d be as broke as the china in your grandma’s old cabinet.

Earlier, you had put in an application at the Student’s employment centre for oncampus jobs. You weren’t hopeful, given the number of applications they received, but you sure meant to check in on them next week in hopes that something suitable might have come up.

It was past 8 in the evening when you finally wrapped your stuff up, somewhat satisfied with how your assignment had turned out. You lowkey congratulated yourself on finishing it a week before the deadline as you made your way back home, crashing the minute you found your bed.

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

18th July 2008

“Y/N! There’s someone here to see you!” Jo hollered from somewhere in the living room.

Thankfully the door to the room you were sharing with Jo was open.

“Coming!” You yelled back, wondering who could it possibly be. Maybe it was the postman with your grandma’s letter. She was a weird old lady who still loved writing handwritten letters. Gramps had been to the war and their love story had blossomed over letters sent across borders. Even though gramps had passed away many years ago, she still got that rosy look on her face whenever she talked of him. You wanted a love story like hers. Was it too much to ask for?

You made your way down the steps two at a time, excited for the letter. Maybe she had sent cookies along with it. Oh, how you loved her.

On the bottom step, you stopped. Sam Winchester was standing in the hallway, one hand balancing a lot of books, the other scratching the back of his neck, looking adorable in old jeans and an open button up over his t-shirt.

“Hey!” He said.

You were wearing a loose shirt without a bra over a pair of boy shorts, with hair falling over your shoulders. Needless to say, you were mortified.

“Give me two minutes,” you muttered and rushed back upstairs.

As you were pulling on a pair of leggings, it occurred to you how dumb the interaction had been. He was here to see you and neither had you invited him in nor asked him why he was here.

To add to your embarrassment, when you returned downstairs, he was still standing at the bottom of the stairs five minutes later, exactly where you had left him.

“Why’re you still standing here? Please come in!” You urged, scandalised that you had kept a guest waiting like that. Gran would have tutted so hard had she been here.

Sam followed you into the living room. Jo was lounging on the smaller sofa chain and you glared at her. She could have easily invited him in when she opened the door.

But no! How else would Y/N suffer in life?

Jo gave you the evil grin and waved to Sam.

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll have coffee!” Jo ordered and you threw her the stink eye again.

You gave Sam a chagrined look. “I’ll put the pot on the stove for her anyway. Do you want coffee?”

He looked like he was trying very hard to smile. “Black please. With half a spoon of sugar.”

You tried to calm your nerves as the pot boiled. Being a nervous wreck wasn’t going to help your case.

When you brought the two mugs of coffee outside, Sam was reading one of the books he had bought along and Jo was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jo?” You asked, carefully placing the steaming mug before him on the table.

Sam shrugged. “She said she suddenly felt sleepy. And that you should drink her coffee because you both like it the same way.”

Oh, that sly girl.

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

Sam smiled shyly. “You said you could use a second pair of eyes for the application.”

He had come all the way from wherever he stayed just to help you with the applications?

“Really?”

“Sure.” He tilted his head, the bangs on his forehead sliding to one side. He just had such beautiful hazel eyes. You have to avert your gaze so you wouldn’t just blatantly stare at him.

You excused yourself a second time and pulled out all your application stuff. Forms, copies of essays, documents and everything. It would be absolutely stupid to not make the most of this opportunity.

Sam took his time with all of it, going through each paper carefully and you counted your breaths to keep away the anxiety. At least he wasn’t laughing at how ridiculous your applications were. That was something. When he was done, he slowly put the papers down and looked up at you.

“Where else have you applied?” He asked.

You told him.

“You didn’t think of applying to any major universities?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t think I had a chance… and I don’t even think I was cut out for those.”

Sam reached out to place his hand on top of yours. A tingling sensation went up your spine. “Y/N! This looks great. Your essays are top notch. You should apply to Ivy Leagues.”

“I’ve already missed deadlines for them… and there are some good universities on my list as well.”

“But you deserve better!” He insisted.

You shrugged. “I don’t have that sort of money, and before you say scholarships, I don’t have those types of recommendations either. I come from a small town. People who are born there, spend their whole lives in the same house. They are happy with what they have.”

“Are you happy with what you have?” He asked, the light from the setting sun hitting his face, illuminating those eyes so they looked like burning topaz.

“I’m happy,” you said, looking at your lap where his hand rested on yours. He seemed to have forgotten about it. “But I know I can do better… for myself and my Gran.”

You made the mistake of looking up then… into his eyes, and they were closer than you had expected them to be. As if, he had no control over it, his hand reached out to touch your hair, the fingertips caressing your cheek on their way there. Slowly, but surely, he drew your face towards his… and you went, willingly. His lips had barely grazed yours when there was a loud noise in the hallway.

You sprang apart.

“Y/N!” It was Jo.

Ordinarily, you’d have flicked your tongue at her or something for interrupting like that. Afterall, she was the one who kept egging on you to get lucky, and the one time you had… that too with Sam frigging Winchester, she had to come barging into the room. Uhgg… Jo was going to get it.

But her face was completely white, and her hand, which was holding the phone, was shaking.

“Y/N,” she whispered again. Your neighbour called. It's your grandma… she passed away last night.

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

You woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of the blaring alarm.

Gran!

The worry felt so fresh, you had to remind yourself that it had been seven years since she had passed away. Grief was peculiar like that… even after years and years of feeling it, some days it just felt fresh and new. Sad memories opened up the box of more memories, not all of them sad. The thought of gran was always accompanied by a warm feeling and memory of sunlit kitchen, and freshly baked bread.

This… dream or whatever it was had triggered more than just that… you could almost feel the whisper of Sam’s lips on yours. You had suppressed it so long that the feeling was almost forgotten now and how it ached knowing that you would never feel it again. The raw, desperate part of you tried to cling on to that feeling, the memory of his touch. It was three in the night, no one could blame you for wanting this comfort of your own memories. As painful as they were when you were completely in your senses, in this darkness, they were all yours to do what you pleased with them. However, like a dream, the memories kept evading your grasp. The more you tried to hold on it, the further away it slipped. Sleep eluded you completely after that.

Needless to say, you were tired and sleepy and irritated by the time the last lecture for the week commenced. You hadn’t memorised the lecture schedule yet…. you only knew when the Civil Procedure class was. First lecture on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the last lecture of Thursday and Friday. Lacey had mentioned something about Sam having to travel to the City for work on the first three days.

Sam was dressed more informally today. He was without a coat and glasses, hair just a little out of order… less sleek.

“Oooohhh looks like the professor had a rough night!” Lacey giggled.

“You don’t know that,” Madison shushed. “Maybe he’s single.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey rolled her eyes. “He lives in the faculty residence on Alverado row. And his house is definitely a family house, not a bachelors pad… So that means he at least has a woman.”

You caught your breath. Alverado row was right behind your Santa Ynes street, where you lived. Literally right behind, less than a block away. You knew a majority senior faculty staff resided there, but it had never crossed your mind...

“I don’t see no ring,” snarked Rebecca, Madison's blonde friend, who was sitting a row ahead of you to the left.

You quickly looked. She was right… there was no ring. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t have to be a wife,” Lacey made a face. “Could be just a girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try our luck.”

It stung, listening to them talk about it stung more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

“Before we start today's lesson, I have a question for you,” Sam said, calling everyone’s attention and the gossip promptly stopped.

“Basic Property damage,” he said. “The plaintiff has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that the defendant is liable. The only issue of debate which remains is the amount of damages to be recovered. Before the last hearing, new evidence comes to light about a completely unrelated matter where the plaintiff has unintentionally harmed the defendant. If you were playing the part of the DA, what would be your obvious course of action.”

‘Settlement’ you muttered to yourself, just loud enough for the few people around you to hear.

“Anyone?” Sam asked, and on cue, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Settlement!” She called out.

“That’s correct,” Sam said, “It should occur to you faster than lightning to draw out a settlement. Good job there. That was quick.”

Next to her, Madison was looking at her friend incredulously. Then she turned around and gave you a sorry look. The boy sitting on her opposite side, the blond one, who had snickered at you on the first day also raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t care one way or another if Rebecca got the praise for your answer. You were simply relieved that you got that answer right… and that you were able to concentrate in the class better than you had been able to uptil now.

Perhaps that was the reason that it caught your attention, the quickest flick of Sam’s chin in your direction, before he stiffly averted his gaze. When the class ended, few students rushed to Sam’s desk, while you made to leave the room.

“Hey!”

You turned to see the blond dude standing right next to you.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Brad,” he offered his hand. “Brad Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you.” you murmured, shaking his hand whilst glancing at the door.

“So, we have a party tomorrow evening,” he said, grinning with too much confidence. “Down at the western dorms. Everyone cool is coming. You should, too.”

“Thank you,” you said politely. “But I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Better than spending time with me?” He winked, stepping ever so slightly in front of you.

You were firm this time. “Yes.”

“Oh, let her be, Brad.” It was Madison, who had come sauntering down the aisle. “If she says she’s busy, she probably is. We’ll miss you, Y/N!”

You threw her a grateful look… Madison didn’t seem to catch it.

You said your goodbyes to her and Brad and left the room quickly.

Maybe it was your imagination, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s gaze flicker towards you… if only for one moment.

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

A/N 2: The next chapter is Sam’s POV ;) So we’ll finally know what’s up with him, huh ;)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Text

Proficient in PowerPoint (The Magnus Archives)

Summary:

“Why are there so many animations?” Jon tapped his foot impatiently through the unnecessarily arduous process of getting to the next page. “I’m not a child. This is for Elias, not a primary school.”

“I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

“They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him."

Jon has to make a presentation for Elias. Sasha, Tim, and Martin help, with dubious results.

“It’s standard procedure, Jon. Every new department head does a presentation.” “But I-” Jon left off with a sigh. Being called up to his boss’s office at the beginning of the day to be informed that he would be making a presentation to all of his intimidating colleagues (and superiors, if he were being honest) was not the way Jon wanted to start his Monday. Besides, what was he going to say? How could he explain this mess of an Archive that was currently under his command? That he didn’t really know what an Archivist did, and that when he googled the position it didn’t seem anything like what Elias had described? He might as well get in front of the room, announce his resignation and go home. Somedays this felt like the best course of action.

He’d heard the whispers following the email announcing his promotion to Head Archivist. “Him?” was said more than once. A few scoffs, a few appraising eyes from the other department heads who were all at least a decade older than him. Even Sasha and Tim had given him a sort of silent treatment, only speaking to him in short sentences and one-word answers in the weeks that immediately followed.

Elias seemed to sense his unease. “It doesn’t have to be long. Just a rundown, a simple assessment of the Archives as they are and what you plan on implementing during your tenure. Perhaps a little about you and your team. Introduce yourself. Everyone’s eager to learn a bit more about you.” Jon very much doubted that.

“Well the Archives, in my “assessment,” are currently a mess.” His candor was not appreciated. Elias was not amused.

“A mess that you’re going to fix,” Elias gave him a withering glance. “I assumed you could handle this, but if that’s not the case-”

“No, I-” He sighed again, the only sound he was capable of making. “Al-Alright. You said it was this Friday, correct?”

“Yes!” Elias gave him a brief smile and ushered him out of the door with a hand on his shoulder, signaling the conversation was over. “Let me know if you have any issues. Not that you will, of course.” Of course.

The door shut behind him and Rosie gave him a sympathetic look from her seat. “You hang in there, alright? You’ll do just fine.” Either Jon looked that pathetic, or Rosie truly did eavesdrop on every conversation.

Perhaps a bit of both.

__________

It was Wednesday evening and Jon was staring at a blank screen.

Everyone else was packing up for the day while he sat in his chair, stewing over what words to write. He should be recording statements like Elias wanted, not putting together some bureaucratic nonsense so the others could ‘get to know him and his plans.’ He didn’t really have a plan for the Archives besides digitization, and even that was going disastrously. Should he even mention the tapes? He’d likely be met with scorn and laughter. Elias may find them promising, but anyone who took one look at their equipment said otherwise. Google told him that he should share fun facts about the team but that seemed highly unprofessional. Who cared that he liked to watch documentaries in what little spare time he had? Instead, he’d written a very bare-bones outline of what he’d like to say but for some reason typing it out was impossible. The only thing he’d managed to get was a layout and font in neutral, unobtrusive colors. This was very important to him.

“Still stuck on the presentation, Jon?”

Sasha was leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile on her face. She knew how hard it was for Jon to get his thoughts together sometimes and was always a sympathetic ear when it got particularly bad. She seemed to have finally settled into her role (whatever that may be) and was talking to him more and more. Though no one in the department had any experience in archiving, Sasha at least had more concrete ideas.

“Yes, I’m just-” he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples to ward off the approaching headache. “I’ve got no idea what he wants. What is a ‘rundown’ and how can I have one with the Archives like...this?” He gestured to his mess of an office, currently drowning in paper and cardboard boxes.

“Well, what do you have so far?” Jon grimaced and handed over his notebook, filled with messy scribbles and half-finished ideas. Sasha skimmed it and made a few promising noises; Jon hated the part of himself that sought her approval. She finished and looked up with a grin. “How about you let me have a go at it? You know I love this sort of thing, and then you’ll have some time to record that statement tomorrow, hm?”

“I-really? Would that be okay? I don’t want you to have to- I mean, it’s my job.”

“I’m your assistant, Jon,” she interrupted with a placating hand. “So let me assist you!” Her offer seemed very genuine. Jon was loath to ask for help or admit to trouble even in the best of cases, but Sasha had a way of wearing him down with one well-placed smile. He decided to take the hand offered.

“Thank you, Sasha. Really.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a grateful smile, glad for any progress made on the project.

“And it’s no problem. Really.” She tucked his notebook into her bag and gave a cheerful nod. “I’ll show you what we come up with!”

______

Jon yawned into his fist for the fourth time in an hour. The Amy Patel statement wouldn’t record on the computer so unfortunately he brought out the tape recorder. For some reason every time he recorded to tape he came away exhausted and anxious, unsettled by the words he spoke. Luckily he managed to get to the follow up recorded without too many interruptions- usually one of his assistants would come banging on the door and he’d be forced to start over for the sake of professionalism.

“Knock knock!”

Speak of the devil. Tim grinned at him from the doorway, Martin standing close behind him.

“Yes?” he asked shortly, straightening the files on his desk. “Do you need something?”

“Your presentation, as requested!” Tim bestowed upon him a flash drive with much pomp and circumstance. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh! Er, I thought I gave that to Sasha?” He looked in surprise at the device before him. He wasn’t expecting them to actually finish everything- he also wasn’t expecting anyone but Sasha to help him out. If Tim and Martin helped out as well... “I’ll uh, check it out in a few moments, thank you.

“But I want to show you now, boss!” Tim’s voice reached the whiny pitch that he knew Jon loathed. He sighed however, and plugged it in. After a few moments a window popped open, with a file labeled Jonny’s First Work Presentation. He rolled his eyes while Tim snickered. I’ll need to change that before the meeting…

The file looked...hellish, to say the least. Jon spied on the first few slides a strange and ugly gradient background that faded from bright green to black, along with garish rainbow WordArt. He was almost afraid to click on anything, lest it blind him or inspire a seizure.

“It’s really best viewed in slideshow mode,” Tim nudged Jon’s hand out of the way and made it so, the full screen now proudly showing the title page- Jonathan Sims’ New and Improved Archives!! Martin and Tim leaned in over his shoulder, the latter clearly excited to showcase his work. That’s never good.

“That’s far too many exclamation points, Tim.”

“There are never enough exclamation points, Jon.”

The next slide came in with a sort of shutter effect that did nothing to minimize the horrendous resizing done on the Magnus Institute logo, which had been stretched to fit almost the entire page and was unrecognizable due to pixilation. Jon gritted his teeth. “This is unnecessary.”

“Wow, everyone’s a critic,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I-I can probably find a logo with better resolution,” Martin offered timidly. Jon had almost forgotten he was in the room.

The next pages were not much better- the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of ‘archive,’ the audio pronunciation for it had a page to itself. There were several collages of books and artifacts (these looked handmade, as if someone had copy and pasted several finds from google images). Jon felt his anger grow with each laborious click. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? Where was Sasha? “Is there anything of actual substance in this?” he asked, huffing as the current slide disintegrated out of view in a dramatic fashion.

“God, so impatient! We’re building up to it.” A few more clicks. They got to a page covered with cartoon ghosts and nothing else. “Watch this!” With a click the ghosts all flew away, a clunky piece of animation that revealed Jonathan Sims’ Plan of ATTACK!!

“I did that one,” Martin announced in his ear with not a little pride.

The ‘plan of attack’ included bullet points (which were also little ghosts) regarding the new digitization and accessibility project in clear, cogent prose which must have been the work of Sasha. The rest, however- random paragraphs about ‘synergy’ and ‘dynamic team players’- was clearly unsalvageable and designed to make him the laughing stock of the institute.

“I can’t...this is unusable, Tim!”

“Keep reading! There’s good content there. God, there’s no accounting for taste these days, is there Martin?” Martin did not answer. What could Martin have said? Each page was worse than the last- the current slide had only a picture of what looked to be an ancient Egyptian scroll and nothing else.

“This is the definition of unusable.”

“No it’s not!” Tim argued though he was on the verge of laughter. He was smiling, clearly enjoying the entire scenario. “Look, I even put a ‘Meet the Team’ section-” He clicked through the slides, each piece of text gliding across the screen in an obnoxious star pattern.

“I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

“They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him,” Tim had finally reached the first slide of his ‘Meet the Team’ section. Instead of starting with Jon it began with an incredibly large photo of Tim, smiling and winking at the camera. Naturally.

“Tim Stoker: A Gentleman and a Scholar,” Jon read aloud. “I’m not saying that. And shouldn’t we be starting with me? I ask for one thing-”

“I saved the best for last, of course! Martin, you’ll love this,” Tim began frantically clicking through animations, taking a full minute to get to Jon’s slide. “Ta-da!”

Jonathan Sims: The Man, the Myth, the Legendary Archivist

It was a picture of Jon from a happy hour years ago, smiling broadly with half-lidded eyes and sprawled across the bar in a state of disarray. He had a vague memory of Sasha snapping the photo before he fell to the ground and vomited everything he drank. No no no no - he attempted to slam down the laptop screen before Martin could see but the damage was done. The man was red and stuttering, clearly embarrassed for Jon. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down. He contemplated his options- double homicide or self-immolation. Both seemed equally appealing in the moment.

“Please leave,” he fumed, his own face a tomato red as he stared at the floor. “Now.”

“Aw boss, don’t be like that-”

“Now!” Two sets of footsteps scurried from the room as Jon threw his head into his hands.

He had quite a bit of work to do.

_____________

Of course he scrapped almost all of it, keeping only the informative parts that Sasha had written. This is why you should do things yourself. ‘Assist’ my ass.

Jon had kept the door closed for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring both the plaintive apologies from Tim and Martin and Sasha’s insistent knocking. He wanted to blame her for letting the other two get involved, wanted to yell and stamp and maybe throw a thing or two. But it was his job. He shouldn’t have left it all to them. Lazy, incompetent, his mind raged but the words were aimed at himself. Perhaps that’s why they sabotaged the slideshow, to tell him they weren’t going to do his dirty work. Hazing the new boss. Did they realize how important this was to him? Did they even care? He already looked like a fool- why not double down on it?

He took the ‘Meet the Team’ page down, his fingers angrily punched the ‘delete’ key for every picture and turned it into one slide with only their names and positions. That’s all they need to know, really. He managed to throw together a few slides on a new organizational system and something about research follow up, but it all rang false and hollow- any academic would see right through this bullshit attempt. Even the digitization slides seemed trite- why was this his first order of business? What the hell are you doing?

It was late into the night when he finally finished, though the presentation was nowhere near what he wanted it to be. The clock informed him it was only ten though, so he still had some time before the last train. He was just going to rest his eyes for a minute and then he’d get up and go. Just a minute...

____________

And then it was tomorrow.

Fuck. Fuck!

Jon woke up with his head pillowed in his arms and his back almost completely immobile. He squinted at the clock- 7:00 AM. He tripped down the hallway and into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on his face and cursing under his breath. How embarrassing to be caught in yesterday’s clothes- if he switched out his sweater vest for a blazer, they might not notice. His wardrobe was nothing if not consistent and boring. His hair tamed into some semblance of neatness, Jon went on to his next stop, the break room for a cup of coffee and then finally, back to his office to survey the finished product and perhaps do a few run-throughs.

He settled in his seat and pressed the power button to coax his laptop out of sleep. The clock on the wall ticked a steady, droning rhythm that somewhat calmed his racing heart and he took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter flavor. His eyes flickered down to the screen- still black. He pressed it again. Nothing. He looked to the side of the computer, noticing the lack of power cord. Oh, it’s not plugged in. That’ll do it. He solved that problem quickly and tried again.

Again, nothing. He pushed it harder, hurting his finger with the intensity behind it. The screen remained black.

It was then that Jonathan Sims screamed.

_____________

It was nine in the morning and he still had no idea what to do. No amount of coaxing, either through nice words or obscenities had managed to wake it up. He removed the battery and put it back in. He prayed to several gods, none of which he believed in. He kicked the desk and promptly fell to the ground, screaming in pain. IT didn’t come in until ten, and his meeting was at nine-thirty. He was well and truly fucked.

But then he heard footsteps coming down the hall and he dashed to meet them, hoping it was the person he needed. And it was.

“Sasha!” he panted, taking in heaving, gulping breaths. “Help!”

“Oh God Jon, is this one of your asthma attacks? Do you have your inhaler?” Her eyes widened and her hands fluttered nervously. ‘I’ve told you-”

“No,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, feeling more unhinged by the moment. “I-I lost it. The PowerPoint. My laptop won’t turn on, and-”

“Breathe, Jon! That’s no trouble at all. I can get into your drive, no worries!” she said, pushing him into a chair and booting up her laptop. Jon put a hand to his chest, attempting to follow her advice. See, it’s fine! “Where did you save it? On your ShareDrive or on the general Archives one? I’ll need your credentials if it’s the former.”

His heart dropped. No no no no. He’d done the one thing Sasha had always warned him against. “I-I saved it to the desktop…”

“Oh Jon.”

And that's when he spiraled. He was going to have to walk into that meeting, hands empty, and face the firing squad. Elias will know he should have never hired him and everyone there will nod and agree that the stupid boy who couldn’t do one simple task does not belong at the table with the rest of him and Jon will be sent on his way, back to research if he’s lucky or fired if he’s not and he can’t do one fucking thing right-

“Jon. Jon!” Sasha had a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “Fucking breathe. It’s fine, you’re fine! Here.” She slipped the flash drive from yesterday into his hand and he groaned, attempting to pass it back

“I can’t use that one, you know I can’t-”

“No, this one’s different, I promise,” She grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I tried to tell you yesterday- I’m sorry about all of that. It wasn’t funny. We fixed it.” She seemed honest, sincere. But Jon was still hesitant, taking in shaking breaths.

“This isn’t a joke?”

“I swear. Here, use my laptop.” She passed it over and Jon paused, considering his options, which were few.

So Jon took the flash drive and laptop and left, ignoring Martin’s greetings as he brushed by him on his way up to the conference room. Here goes.

_____________

“Erm, h-hello,” Jon coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist, as Elias...already said, I guess.” He let out a nervous laugh which no one returned. Elias nodded, urging him to go on.

Jon had made his way to the room with fifteen minutes to spare, giving him some time to boot up the computer and load the presentation. A quick, nervous glance let him know that it was much changed- at least the first few slides. He shook hands with each department head as they came in, trying to see which of their smiles and congratulations were sincere. The answer? Very few. This was not comforting.

His hands shook as he clicked his way to the first slide, his heart pounded in his chest to reveal-

Bringing the Archives into the 21st Century- A Plan for Updating and Digitizing the Institute's Statements

Well that’s not bad at all.

He began to speak, his voice gaining clarity and confidence with every sentence. The presentation was lovely- incorporating his preferred neutral color scheme, a great improvement on the nauseating colors of before. The animations were minimal and sleek, making the transitions meld seamlessly from slide to slide. There was a bit introducing Gertrude’s past work and a dig at her filing system that earned him a laugh. There were new slides regarding the preservation of documents, a new organizational structure, the introduction of a database. All ideas they’d briefly spoken about before committing themselves fully to the digitization process as Elias instructed. Everything was written in his favored academic tone- so natural that Jon found himself speaking extemporaneously on the slides he felt more comfortable with. It was all met with approving nods and a studious gaze from Elias that Jon couldn’t parse. There was also no mention of the tapes.

The dreaded ‘Meet the Team’ section had been heavily reworked- each one of them had the headshot from their IDs (poor Martin had his eyes closed) and a mention of which department they’d transferred from, along with their credentials. It was professional and informative, everything Jon had wanted it to be. Sasha had outdone herself. Sasha should be the one making this presentation.

He tried to ignore the guilt settling in his chest, even as he smiled back at the approval from the academics he so desperately craved. He clicked to the last slide, which had their contact information and- oh. It was a picture taken from his birthday a few weeks back, where they all looked fairly presentable and were smiling, no idea of the task ahead of them. Elias was there too; Rosie had taken the picture at Tim’s insistence. His audience tittered, though it seemed to be in good humor rather than mocking.

“Ah, yes. Th-Thank you for your time.” He quickly turned it off and stared at the ground, his face warm with both embarrassment and a creeping sense of belonging that he didn’t know what to do with. He was startled when a small round of applause began and he looked up with wide eyes to find a smiling audience. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elias nod and smile as well and he finally felt the sense of accomplishment he’d longed for since the start of his promotion.

The room cleared rather quickly (no one really wanted to be in a Friday meeting, after all) but Jon was stopped by a tall, smiling woman he had only seen in passing. “Sonya from Artefact Storage,” she reminded him, shaking his hand again and giving him a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to talking to you more about that database. I was always telling Gertrude she needed one, but of course she never listened to me. Stubborn to the end!” He could only stutter, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper response. A hand reached out to his shoulder.

“That was nicely done, Archivist.” For some reason the title made Jon feel odd, like he was having an honor bestowed that he had not yet earned. Elias wasn’t that much taller than him, but he always seemed to loom over Jon. “Quite the presentation. Lots of...ideas. But I must stress the importance of getting the statements-”

“On tape, yes, yes,” Jon said, quick to agree. “I just thought, er- I should let them know some of our other objectives, as well?” Seems like Sasha wanted to, at least.

“As long as you don’t forget yours,” A pointed glance. Jon gulped nervously, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Still, a good job all around. That Sasha of yours seems like a good asset. Enjoy your weekend.”

Jon froze in the doorway. Did he know? Of course not, don’t be silly. He shook his head and left the room. Well, at least that’s over with.

____________

“Did it go alright?” Sasha asked immediately upon his entrance. He managed a self-deprecating smile.

“Surprisingly, yes. That was- thank you, I guess.”

“No trouble at all,” Tim jumped out from the break room, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Always knew you had it in you. A consummate performer, I was telling our Martin-”

“Tim!” He scowled and tried in vain to shove him away, still irritated by his presence.

“Seriously, though. Sorry about all of that before. Just trying to lighten the mood, I swear we wouldn’t have actually left you with that-”

“It’s- It’s fine,” Jon sighed, reluctantly giving in to Tim’s insistent affection. “Well, not really, but it turned out alright in the end.” Sasha gave an encouraging grin.

“Did you like the photo?” Martin asked anxiously, hovering in the corner of the room. Jon paused. He considered telling him no, that he would have never put it in there himself and considered it rather unprofessional on the whole, but one look at Martin’s face told him that was the wrong move.

“Yes, Martin,” he said, summoning up the equivalent of a smile. “I liked the photo.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142390

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #martin blackwood #elias bouchard #just a bit of ridiculous fluff and nonsense #as advertised

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fioletowa-krowa · 3 years

Text

So I’ve had to deal with the absolute worst customer in my entire working career ever this past week. (It’s Rose at the Notre Dame university bookstore in case anyone was wondering) apologies in advance, it’s going to be long

So for this school we have two “titles” that are basically just boxes of lab equipment. There’s a lock, goggles, a lab coat, a notebook, and an access card for the online book. These are shipped as individual boxes since there’s a good amount of materials. This is different from what we usually send to stores, which would be boxes of multiple notebooks. I mention this bc the store manager, Rose made such a damned big deal about it.

So the whole ordeal started at the beginning of the month when my boss CC-ed me on an email conversation with Rose letting her know that she was going to be out of town so to contact me with any questions or requests for her order of the two bundles we had for the school. She ended the email with “hopefully things go smoothly this year” so already I have a bad feeling that this is going to be difficult.

Rose emails me to let me know that this is a time when they receive a lot of deliveries at their store (she specifically mentioned receiving football equipment in addition to books and school supplies) so she wanted to make sure that their order of nearly 1000 bundles could be split into smaller orders with only one order arriving per day to make sure that they weren’t overwhelmed at the store. A bit of an annoying request, but not impossible for us to attempt to accommodate. The only thing being that once an order leaves our warehouse we have zero control over how long it takes to deliver or when it gets delivered so I told Rose that I was putting notes on her orders so that they would hopefully ship on different days and then be delivered on different days. And she again reminded me that they needed the orders to arrive just as she specified. Okay, fine, I’m doing what I can.

Now, unfortunately, we’ve been having delays it’s getting materials and books in stock on time this season bc our printers are all short staffed and they can only print and ship so much at a time. So the bundles are already going to be a little later than expected. We had a team of people putting the boxes together at our satellite warehouse last last week so we could get them shipped out last week.

So we finally get things together and get the first order shipped out Tuesday. This first order was for 85 boxes of one title (11181) and 150 copies of the other (11171) and the manager at the satellite warehouse gets it shipped out Tuesday last week. On Wednesday I send Rose an email with the tracking information (I had to wait for our regular warehouse manager to get me the info bc the satellite manager was out all of last week after Tuesday) and at 4:56 Wednesday evening I get the following email from Rose:

“Beth, do you realize we already got three skids today? You sent a skid of 11181 when we only wanted 85 and two skids of 11171. Please do not send any more of 11181 and I will write up everything tomorrow and you can arrange a call tag to pick up the others. This is a hot mess and the paperwork the driver had was wrong and we have damaged cases as well. Way to go..........................”

So I was about to lose my mind at this. Not only was it at the end of the day, but she was incredibly rude over something that was genuinely a mistake and moreso, not my fault! The editor in charge of the projects wanted to respond to her that evening, but I told her that, quite frankly, I was off for the day and Rose didn’t deserve any of my unpaid time. Plus i wanted to hear back from the warehouse to see their end in case something happened so they sent out more than they were supposed to or if Rose was just stupid and we did what we said we would and it just wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. So the editor sent Rose a message saying that I’d get back to her in the morning with more information and I went to dinner w my parents and papa so that I wouldn’t punch a hold thru a wall in anger

So Thursday morning I get in to an email from our main warehouse manager (since the satellite manager was out the rest of the week) letting me know that we had sent three skids for the order. Because each skid holds 96 boxes. So, since the order was for 235 boxes, it physically had to ship as three skids. I was fucking giddy as I typed my response to Rose, spelling out why she received three skids and letting her know that I would be holding her remaining four orders for 150 of 11171 each until I got the go-ahead from her that she was okay with the fact that the orders would be one and a half skids each.

Well, Rose emails back that we actually sent three full skids instead of one full and two partials. She included the phrase “believe it or not, I can count” and then after reiterating how she wanted her orders sent said, “My next suggestion would be to fulfill my orders as requested going forward.” And asked if they’d be getting another order that day. So I typed up a very off-color response to her informing her how obnoxious and cunty I thought she was being and how her attitude was helping exactly zero people and quite honestly making me feel less inclined to be helpful at all. And then I typed up a nicer response and asked my boss for read it over to make sure that it was professional and appropriate. In my email i let her know that we only had the paperwork to go off of as the warehouse manager who put the shipment out was out of the office, so we legitimately did not know that she received more than what was on her order and that, no I had held her other orders to make sure that she was okay with how they were going to be shipped, but I could put them in and hopefully get the next one shipped out that day or Friday.

At that point, she got the other manager at their store involved who emailed Friday morning to ask me to confirm they’d be getting the rest of their order that day as they had students arriving on campus who would need them. I informed her that no, we hadn’t shipped anything else yet and said that it was bc our satellite warehouse was short staffed (which is essentially true. There’s one person who works in that warehouse— the manager— and he’d been out all week) so Rose jumped back in to say “Just to make certain I understand correctly, there hasn't been another order shipped since the first delivery? We need to get on the ball with this order short staffed or not folks!!”

At that point i was beyond pissed. They were asking for something above and beyond what we do normally, and we were doing everything we could to keep them placated, including shipping the rest of their orders for free, but there’s literally only so much we can do with the staff that we have. So, after venting into an empty word doc, I responded with “That is correct. We wanted to make sure that we wouldn't overwhelm you with multiple orders in a day, like you asked, and since the first shipment went out incorrectly, we wanted to be sure that it didn't happen again. Unfortunately that means that we aren't able to schedule a pickup from the shipper until Monday as it took some time to confirm that the rest of the shipments were okay to go forward per your instructions. The remaining shipments will be going out all of next week, but if you need us to send more than one order at a time, please let me know and I can coordinate with our warehouse team to make sure that happens.” (Also I’m now realizing that rose never actually confirmed that we could/should ship the rest of the orders so that’s a fun thing) as this was going on, I was trying to coordinate with our warehouse manager to see if we could get the next order out and (as my dad who works in that warehouse told me) they were basically running around asking every shipper who came by that day if they could take the order bc the store’s preferred shipper wasn’t available to pick it up. But we finally managed to get it picked up and shipped around 1 Friday afternoon

So, Rose, in all of her Karen-ness responds “In what world would it be, as the buyer, my fault for making and having confirmation of shipping directions the reason why your company has failed??” Funnily enough, that email sent me passed pissed off to just calm and I’d started typing a response when a message from my boss (who had been CC-ed on the entire conversation) popped up saying “take a minute, step away from your computer, then respond” so I laughed to myself and explained to Rose that I wasn’t trying to blame her (yes I was) but that I was only trying to explain why I was being so cautious and why there would be a gap in their shipments. Of course, then I get an email from the other store manager saying that she wished we had communicated the delay in shipments ahead of time and that if that had happened they would have been able to tell us that it mattered more that they received the boxes on time, not that they were received separately as originally requested, ending with “I would have thought this would be a logical conclusion on your part, so the mistake was mine in thinking that.”

And that’s when I realized that this manager (Becky) hadn’t been informed of everything that actually had happened and most likely just got the bitching from Rose that we’d messed up and it was all our fault that they wouldn’t be getting the boxes on time. So I got to inform her that I had told Rose immediately that we were going to be holding the remainder of her orders until we got the ok from her to ship since she’d been so upset with how the first shipment had arrived.

So once I’d gotten that all explained and smoothed out, I got an email from the freaking Macmillan rep for the area who’s been “filled in” on the situation and wanted to make sure that we were going to be able to get the store what they needed and when 🙄 and she followed up this morning to make sure that we’d done what we said. So we got the order delivered today, another one that’s either been delivered since or is being delivered tomorrow, a third that’s either tomorrow or Wednesday, and the last order that’s shipping tomorrow being delivered Wednesday or Thursday depending on shipping times.

Behind the scenes, I wasn’t aware, but my boss’s boss and his (new) boss had also been filled in about the situation and my boss had explained our half of the story, so I got a message from my boss’s boss thanking me for handling the situation and that he thought it had handled the situation well and professionally and that it was “100% the fault of an extremely difficult customer”

I’m just so Done with this and I hope to God I don’t ever have to deal with this store in the future

#beth rambles about her life #Beth rambles about her job #I legit did a shot in the middle of the day Friday bc I was so fed up with everything #bc on top of dealings with this store #I’ve got like 50 other stores and schools placing orders and getting info all day long #on the other side of the coin #I have a different store that wanted to order a total of 1100 of our spiral bound notebooks over two orders #that they’d placed one two weeks ago one last week #but I’d been a little late in putting the first order in and by the time I got to it we were out of that notebook #which is another stupid story #so we were completely out of the notebook and won’t be getting more for at least a week probably more #but we do have another of the same binding and page count #just that the original copy is tear-out instead of the copy page #and she was so nice to me #saying that she’d be okay with the sub and that it’s not the end of the world that the shipments won’t go out until today #it’s like freaking night and day between her and how Rose handled things

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of Being a Ladybug part 2

So, Paris is about 6 hours ahead of Metropolis . So if Marinette sent the message at say… 8 pm, and Jagged got it at 9 because he was at dinner, then getting lawyers straightened out and all that ...say Marinette starts school at 10 am, then it would be approximately 4am in Metropolis. It would be a 7 hour flight, meaning she'd leave at noon on Monday, and arrive at 2am on Tuesday.

The cons of being a reporter.

TUESDAY 2AM Paris

Lois was as excited as she was exhausted. Paris! She'd always wanted to go to Paris. As her taxi drove her past the Louvre and she could see the Eiffel tower in the distance, she couldn't help but remember the call she received yesterday.

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris" Bruce said from the other line.

"I'm listening."

"The satellites from the Tower have been picking up irregularities. Burning buildings, the Eiffel Tower toppled or completely missing, then the next pass everything is normal. Hal even claims he saw a giant baby on cams once. I've gone over all the pictures of the last year, a couple of weeks ago there… I can't explain it. I'll send you the images and we'll try to find a believable cover story for going in the middle of the school year like this"

"I understand, thank you Bruce. I'll book the earliest flight I can." Burning buildings? The Eiffel tower toppled? Nothing had been said in the news. If something on a grand scale like that were happening, they would already know.

"Thank you, Lois. I will of course pay for your accommodations while there," Bruce offered. A consolation for sending her around the globe for film effects.

She barely got a "thank you" out, before he hung up. She flopped back onto the bed, Clark raising an eyebrow at her. Of course he'd heard both sides of the conversation, so he obviously had his own opinion to share.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked him. If Clark gave it some weight, she might take it more seriously.

"A video was sent by the Mayor of Paris about a year ago, asking for help because his city was being overrun by stone monsters and their only hope lay with a couple of kids. I watched it and it looked like some cheap special effects and deleted it like the other publicity stunts people pull. Diana was the one to notice the inconsistencies with the Eiffel tower, and she swears she saw a couple kids flying on rooftops. It's why Bruce started investigating. But he has no reason to be in Paris at all, since Wayne Enterprises doesn't have an hq there, and he wants to save that excuse for if there IS any trouble. Anyways, try to enjoy your little vacation while you're there" Clark smiled.

"... Does Bruce know the mayor called for Justice League intervention?" Lois asked slowly. This… Was… Not… happening.

"No? I mean, just some publicity stunts, Lois. We get 20 of them a day" Clark dismissed. Lois was beyond words so she got up and started packing, and turned on her civilian phone to call for a flight. Before she could get dialing she got a call incoming.

"Penny? Is everything okay? WHAT? YES! Of course I do! That's huge! Yes, let me just call my boss…. Oh? Oh wow! Thank you! Yes, I'll see you tonight… Or I guess tomorrow for you…yes. I understand. Thank you" Lois couldn't believe her luck. She grabbed her JL phone and called Bruce.

"Bruce! I've got a cover! I've been asked by an old college friend to interview her client and a few others on Parisian TV. Yes, totally legit, she just called me… Penny Rolling. Yes, yes Bruce! I will keep my eyes open. Did you know the Mayor tried to call for JL intervention a year ago? No? Clark told me there was a video but thought it was a publicity stunt. Maybe try to find it and give me a heads up… okay… Thank you Bruce. That'll be perfect! I'll get to the bottom of this… Okay, thank you."

Finally done with the update she rushed to call the airline.

" NOON?!"

Before she could take in the breathtaking view any longer, the cab stopped. Lois paid the fare and stepped out and looked up. It was a beautiful hotel, owned by Mayor Bourgeois. The cabbie was loading her bags onto a trolley with a Bellhop waiting stoically by the doors. Just as Lois went to inquire about Penny, the door opened and out she came.

"You cut your hair!" Lois exclaimed, giving her friend a hug and a LA Bise.

"You, my beautiful ginger, are late! Had you arrived a few hours earlier you would have had quite the show!" Penny said with a smile. She'd always been jealous of Lois's hair.

"It's Paris, Penny. How exciting could it possibly be?" Lois asked jokingly, wondering just what her visit here would truly reveal.

I was going to end it here, but I believe I owe you all an action scene 😉

MONDAY 10AM PARIS

Ladybug flew over buildings in the direction of the explosions. She really wished she'd had a chance to see the classroom before leaving to see if she would have to once again go up against Alya. Or Lila.

Maybe if she was lucky it would be another unfortunate soul altogether. One she hopefully didn't know personally. Because it was starting to really take a toll on Ladybug, every time she came face to face with a friend or loved one.

Before she was ready she was at the scene. And she was shocked. The Akuma of the day was a barely visible outline of a woman. She had a flowy garment on and only became visible when she touched a person. The person would immediately admit to bad deeds, anything from finishing the ice cream container to more horrible crimes.

Ladybug watched as a couple hid behind a vehicle to escape the fate, only for the akuma to lift and throw the car, one handed, into another vehicle, creating another explosion. The akuma drifted ghost like towards the couple and became fully corporeal as she touched them, first the man ("I tapped your phone! I hated how much time you spent always going out!" he blurted out) then the woman ("I can't stand being with you!" she screamed back). Ladybug swallowed. This was not good. A non corporeal being with the strength of ten men and the ability to… Spill secrets? Ladybug wasn't sure, but didn't want to get too close before she had the full story. She went to grab her yo-yo to call Chat, only for him to pop up, baton swinging.

"What have we here? Another scary movie victim?" Chat asked, drawing all eyes to them. Ladybug wanted to scream. Or toss him off the building. Once! Just. ONCE!

"I… am Guilty Conscience. That voice that should tell you not to do bad… It Is too quiet in most people's heads. So therefore I shall make you scream your misdeeds to the world. No longer shall there be hiding behind white lies for innocence" the ghost whispered, yet to Ladybug she may as well have screamed.

"Che, you're out of your league! I have a picture perfect record!" Chat smirked, ever brash and fearless. Without a second thought, he jumped off the building towards the ghostly form. And just as Ladybug predicted, went right through her. She did not become solid upon contact with a human unless she so chose to. Great…

"Chat! Fall back, we need a plan!" Ladybug called, stepping back from the roof and readying her yo-yo.

"Just lucky charm her and we can go out for coffee!" Chat yelled back, swinging his baton uselessly through GC. Ladybug shook her head. She was almost 90% sure they'd need more backup.

"Lucky Charm!" she cried, throwing her yo-yo high. Down fell a teapot. Back up it is, she sighed.

"Chat! Fall back, I'm going for backup!" she called out again.

"Awe, but M'lady, I thought I was the only one you needed in your life!" she was sure he thought he sounded charming. She cringed.

"Not now Chat. I'll be back in a while, keep her from following me but keep your distance. No need to waste your energy for now."

Had she looked down, or paid more attention to her surroundings, she may have seen Lila hiding in an alley not far from the akuma. She may have noticed her trying to follow her. She may even have taken another route to get where she was going. Later she would regret not being more vigilant.

To be Continued...

Looks like me tag list is officially full. I'll try to send the rest in the comments!

@sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @kuroko26 @northernbluetongue @zelladane @chez-pezeater @luciferge @vixen-uchiha @bluerosette23 @mochinek0 @krunchy-tuna @treebrosha @geekydragonyt @vivilakitty @sassy-spocko @bluefiredemon-blog @mindfulmagics @thornangelic727 @sidefrienda @xxmadamjinxx @thepeacetea @pandocatxd @whomthefyck @lamestplaceintheworld @miraculous-ninja @mikantsume @unabashedbookworm @kandi-pie @2sunchild2 @redsparrow12 @shamefullove @cadencehood @thatonechickathottopic @yin-390 @tazanna-blythe @bb-basbusa @zazzlejazzle @fanfictionaddict13 @royalchaoticfangirl @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @slytherinsheashire @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @angelisalise @graduatedmelon @trickstermiraculous @ayuchan07 @thatrandomfandomsgirl @sweatyruinsstudentbored @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay

#damian wayne #marinette x damian #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #marinette deserves better #maridami #marinette protection squad #Penny Rolling #Jagged Stone #uncle jagged #Aunty Clara #justice league #lois lane #clark kent #batman #batfam

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Fifteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 15: Avoidance

Chapter Summary: The thing about avoiding your problems is that you always have to face them sooner than you think.

Chapter Word Count: 2611

A/N: Slight warnings for a little bit of angsting, and it’s a little light on Steve content (though he eventually appears from afar). Anywho. I wish I could say something cool like ‘enjoy the pining!’ but I have no idea how long I can actually keep them apart considering I have been mushing two dolls together in my head and going ‘now kiss!’ since I started posting. There will be a little pining though. Like, maybe a car air freshener, at least. Enjoy!

I avoided Steve for the rest of the long weekend. It was easier than it might have been had he not been called in for something. Though we still had texting, he was busy and I didn’t instigate. Even when we did communicate, my responses were short and didn’t leave much for follow up. He probably assumed I needed time to de-socialize, because that was the kind of guy he was, sweet and caring and all good things. Meanwhile, I knew exactly why I was trying not to talk to him, and it stressed me the hell out.

I didn’t want to think about any of it and found my perfect excuse on Monday morning, when a work project made me skip lunch and go into overtime. I immediately texted Steve telling him I’d be busy for a few days and threw myself into work. Unfortunately the project was too time-sensitive and it was done before I even clocked out Tuesday afternoon.

“Okay, this definitely isn’t about money anymore,” my boss said that evening, just when he was packing up. “Do you have a spouse you’re having a fight with?”

“I’m just…looking for stuff to do. To keep me busy.” I didn’t back down when he stared at me. “Just for this week?”

He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Okay. Lunches and up to one hour after if you spend it working on organizing the junk drive. Make real progress on cleaning that out and I’ll approve the overtime.”

That was two hours of mindless-but-incredibly-draining work that would put me at a worse commute time and make me crawl into bed at the end of the day, and hopefully completely wipe me out on the weekend.

Perfect.

“Thank you!” I said and started to bound out to get started on the one job everybody in my department passed around like it was a beach ball on fire.

“Seriously,” he said and I stopped. He stood there with his bag over his shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”

I almost smiled, but remembered that would be out of character. “I’m fine,” I said and shrugged one shoulder. “Holidays, you know?”

It worked. For the most part. I at least had a plausible excuse to keep Steve off my back, and my boss didn’t press any further, and I made progress on the most mind-numbing task ever embarked upon by an actual human with an actual brain.

The only problem was that it wasn’t numbing enough. As much as I tried to avoid thinking about Steve at all, he was still in my phone, as was Sam, and even Clint and Natasha now too. Pepper wasn’t a very social texter, thankfully, but I kept getting pulled back to Steve in other ways. In the course of three days I: saw a tuft of blonde hair that made me do a double-take, heard his recorded laugh as I passed by someone who didn’t understand the concept of using headphones, and had to listen to a few older ladies gossip about ‘what a man’ he was in unfiltered detail. I even had a dream about some of the things they said because the universe hated me, apparently.

And then there was Steve himself, not texting that much, but always taking the time to send me a little photo every day that was obviously meant to make me laugh. He even sent me the ‘Hang in there’ kitten poster (which made me snort way too loudly in public) along with ‘I dare you to use this for your lockscreen for a month.’

I texted back, ‘What do I get for it?’ before I realized I was breaking my own goddamn rules and smashed my face into my desk.

Steve: Something good ;)

Oh god. Did he know what he was doing? If he did I wished he would have just put me out of my fucking misery already.

Steve: How’s work?

Fuck.

Me: Busy. Me: How’s work? Steve: Almost done Steve: I hope your job lets up this weekend Steve: Sam is coming back with me and we’re hoping you can come out with us

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Me: We’ll see

Work did let up. Unfortunately. I made good progress on organizing the long-forgotten junk drive and my boss repaid me and betrayed me in the same breath.

“I’ll approve the overtime,” he said. “But that’s it for now. You look exhausted and I need you to take the weekend to rest up, okay?”

It was the one and only time I had ever wished to have a bastard boss again. But I was tired, and I didn’t have any excuses. “Okay,” I said and left his office feeling miserable. I got home pretty quick for a Friday night, which just left me more time to think about things I really didn’t want to think about. And there was only one cure for that.

The club was busier than I was used to, busier than it had any right to be with the night just really beginning, but as soon as I got in I made a beeline for the bar and snaked in the first opening I could find. It was loud, and too crowded, and I really wasn’t up for this, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I started drinking.

That was a bad idea. Aside from the ‘using alcohol to try and drown your emotions’ being a baseline fucking awful idea, it also didn’t fucking work.

Couples. They were everywhere. Leaning next to each others’ ears, making out along the wall, dancing together like it was foreplay; they were so all over the place that even the fake ID crowd seemed less obnoxious by comparison.

Except for when a gaggle of party girls yelled right next to me for no real reason and reminded me they really weren't. The music thumped and I winced and turned away from watching the floor to sip my drink at the bar like the true lonely miser I was.

And wasn’t that just the thing.

Loneliness, as a thing in my life, had stopped bothering me after a while– or maybe I had just stopped noticing it– either way, it wasn’t generally a thing I dwelled on. I took for granted that I wasn’t the type anyone would settle in with; I was too…whatever. So for the longest time I had just assumed I’d be on my own and I was okay with it. I knew I could handle it, and figured I and everyone else was better off for it. People came and went, and no one ever stuck around before– not that I ever gave them a real reason to. And if I couldn’t make friendships work, I had no business getting into a relationship. It truly didn’t bother me. Most of the time.

So it figured I would fall for the first person I’d had qualify as ‘friend’ in a while. That thought was slightly concerning, but as long as I didn’t make these feelings Steve’s problem, I could sleep easy at night. For the most part. The question was how to deal with it. Did I continue as normal and bottle this up for the rest of time, hoping it would fade out? Did I continue as normal but let him know, and let him decide if he wanted to stick around?

Or did I just…let go. Did I stop putting in the time to keep this friendship going. Did I stop responding, start avoiding him, and just fade out of his life even easier than I had faded in. That seemed like a real option. I was so naturally good at it, had done it so much by accident, he wouldn’t even miss me. After a while I doubt he would remember I existed.

My mouth tasted sour and bitter and I tossed back my drink. It didn’t help.

An hour later I was home, sitting at my kitchen counter and hanging my face over a cup of tea that got colder by the minute. My head still pulsed in time with the beat that had driven me out of the club, but it had become less and less over time.

My phone buzzed. “Shh,” I said softly, but it ignored me and I looked over only to hurt my neck when I did a double-take. Steve had sent three texts. Shit. I sat up and opened my phone directly to my messages. If Steve had gotten injured again I was really going to hurt him.

Fortunately the first message was a simple ‘Hey’ sent soon after I had set out on my ill-advised adventure. The next was ‘Are you busy?’ and then simply my name.

I hesitated. I had the terrible thought that here was where I could start ghosting on out of his life. Fade away like the nonentity I was.

I swallowed and sent back, ‘Sry. Went out’

Steve: Oh Steve: Good :) Steve: How are you? Me: Okay Me: You? Steve: I’m okay

The conversation stalled and I realized why I had even considered ghosting– it was easy to not respond when you didn’t know what to say.

Me: Good Steve: Can I ask you Steve: Are you really okay?

His texts came too fast after mine to be responding to the silence. Fuck.

Me: Yes Me: Why?

I shouldn’t have asked, but I had a bad feeling about this. I tapped my fingers on the table while I waited for a response.

Steve: You haven’t been talking to me much lately Steve: I’m just Steve: worried Steve: Was it Thanksgiving? Steve: Was I inappropriate?

Shit, shit, shit. I hit my forehead on the table which, fucking ow, but I deserved it. I had never intended for him to feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault, nor was it ever supposed to be his problem. It wasn’t right for him to be upset because of my bullshit. So I decided to be honest.

Me: No Me: It’s not you Me: It’s very definitely me Me: I’m mis Me: miserable Me: And awful Steve: You’re not Me: Am too Me: It’s not you tho Me: I’m having a hard time Me: That’s all

Honest to a point, at least.

Steve: I’m sorry Steve: Can I help? Me: No Me: Gotta Me: Push through Steve: Okay Steve: I’m your friend though Steve: You can always come to me Steve: And hey Steve: Sam and I are going out tomorrow for dinner Steve: I’ll text you the details just in case you’re up to it Steve: But I won’t expect anything Steve: Is that okay?

Why did he have to be so fucking thoughtful all the time. Why did he have to be someone so out of my league in every single way.

Me: Fine Me: Can’t promise Steve: That’s okay <3

I was going to straight up murder whoever taught him fucking heart symbols. Preferably by taking their heart.

Steve: Have you eaten yet? Me: Don’t wanna Steve: How about dessert?

‘Only if you’re here to share it,’ I thought. The worst part was that it wasn’t even sexual– I just wanted him here. With me. All of the time. Okay, maybe not all of the time, but most of the time. And that was new. That was different. That scared the hell out of me.

Then there was a knock at my door and I froze up. Nobody had buzzed for me and while my building wasn’t exactly Fort Knox, I also didn’t expect company I didn’t explicitly invite over. I gave it a few seconds but kept my connection to Steve in hand (just in case) and went to the peephole.

Me: Someone knocked. If I don’t respond maybe send help Steve: It’s safe :)

I squinted at the message and then peered out again. I didn’t see him at all and it wasn’t like him to hide. I cautiously opened the door and looked around but there was no one– but there was something.

A bakery box sat in front of my door, with a note scrawled on receipt paper that had my name followed with very flowery bubble letters telling me to “Feel Better!” from a hand-scrawled smiling sunflower.

I stared at it, picked up the box, brought it in, set it on the counter, and stared at it some more.

Steve: Okay now you’ve put that thought into my head I’m a little worried Steve: Are you okay? Me: brb Me: crying into cake Steve: Don’t cry Steve: Or cry if you need to I guess Steve: But eat something too Steve: I’ll say good night here Steve: And text you again with dinner info Steve: Again, only if you want to. Sam and I will NOT be slighted Steve: I promise Me: Good night Steve Steve: Good night <3

“Just fucking end me,” I muttered and stared at the screen while I dug into the cake with a fork. (It was small; I felt no shame.) It was also so unbelievably good that I actually stopped and checked out the box.

Me: Wait, how did you get a cake this late??? Steve: Asking the real questions

I laughed. That surprised me, but I couldn’t help it.

Me: It’s really good Me: Thank you Steve: Anytime

I forced myself to think about this whole…situation…while I ate. Phasing out of his life was, apparently, not much of an option if he was just randomly thinking of me like this. And I knew now very firmly that even accidentally hurting him was not an option. Love was an easy word for complicated emotion, but it was the best way I knew how to classify how deeply I cared for him. And I cared, to the point where if anybody was going to get hurt, I’d rather it be me.

The more I thought about it though, the more I had real hope that maybe nobody would get hurt at all. Steve was a really good guy. So even if he accidentally found out (I knocked on wood at the thought) it wouldn’t be the end of everything. He wouldn’t let it be the end of everything; he would be flattered, reject me politely, and we could move on. I hoped.

And for once, the best-case scenario didn’t seem the least likely. I trusted Steve that much. That was something I didn’t want to look into too much, but to be fair, he also trusted…me. He would know I wasn’t infatuated with some aspect of him and we might even work past this together. If not, he would give me the chance to work past it on my own, and I wasn’t about to let him down.

The box topped off my trash so I pulled the bag together and got ready to make the trek to take it out. Coming out the door I almost ran right into my neighbor, Robert, who was apparently doing the same thing.

“Hey,” he said. I was polite like a real human being and asked after his wife and kids. We made some more small talk on the way, and he even waited to hold the chute open for me. When I lifted the bag, his eyes zeroed in on the box stuffed half in the top. “Oh, that place is nice. You celebrating something?”

“No,” I said and shoved it in. “I…wasn’t feeling so great. So a friend sent it to me.”

“That must be a pretty good friend,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about Steve and finally feeling hopeful. “A really good friend.”

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Bitter Pill

(from ‘Couple in Flat 102’)

…in which Y/N’s brother is in the hospital, and Harry just thinks too much.

wattpad link

Y/N hadn't seen Jack since the talk about her wedding dress on Sunday. He took Monday off due to a business trip, and only replied to her thank you text message with a simple 'you're welcome', and that's it. So she expected to see her boss at work the next day in order to thank him in person, and pay him the money back for the gown, which he had insisted on her taking as a gift, but he was still her boss and therefore accepting it would be wrong.

Unfortunately, when Y/N arrived at work on Tuesday morning, once again, she found his desk empty.

"Kate, do you know where Ja—Mr. Coleman is?"

The vice president's assistant dropped the beam on her face as she looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then Kate leaned closer to whisper into Y/N's ear, telling her not to tell anyone about that, "he won't be in the office this week. His mother's in the hospital."

It was obvious that Jack wasn't the kind of man who liked to share about his personal life, the only time he'd mentioned his mother to Y/N was during their conversation in the café. But from the way he talked, Y/N could feel the great love he had for that woman, and so she thought right now he must be devastated. Jack would never abandon work for whatever reason, even if it was the weekend, or a holiday, or, as her co-workers used to joke, if the whole building was on fire. Y/N didn't know exactly how ill his mother was. Kate had only said that she'd passed out last night, and despite having regained consciousness, the hospital still refused to let her go home so soon. Nevertheless, the fact that Jack wouldn't be here this whole week already made it obvious that his mother's condition had taken quite a toll on him.

"Poor man, should we send his mother flowers?" Y/N asked Harry while petting their cat with one hand, and his hair with the other. They were watching an action movie on Netflix and she just couldn't concentrate; not only because the movie sucked but it was Harry's turn to pick one so she couldn't really complain, but also because she couldn't stop thinking about her brother as well as Jack's mother. Harry, on the other hand, was unable to take his eyes off the screen, not even for a second.

"She's gonna be fine, love." He sighed, snuggling his head into her bare shoulder. "But I think it's nice if you want to send flowers."

"Jack was very nice to us after all."

That short sentence immediately drew Harry's attention away from the on-going movie. He didn't need a reminder of how nice her boss was, because he already knew, and he hated to admit that it was bothering him more than it should. Even if Y/N refused to believe it, Harry was convinced that Jack had feelings for her, not just ordinary feelings, deep ones.

When Harry used to have a crush on Y/N, he would go out of his way to make sure she was happy and got what she wanted, even if he wasn't always gonna be a part of that joy. And that was exactly what Jack's doing now. Though he probably knew it wasa bad idea to fall for an engaged woman, he just couldn't help it and still did everything in his power to guarantee her happiness, even if it was with Harry and not him. Jack had never made a move on Y/N and seemed respectable, and just like Harry, he also wanted nothing but the best for her. So Harry really had no other reason to hate him besides the fact that they would do anything for the same woman. So now that Y/N started talking about that man again, Harry felt so uneasy that he couldn't continue watching the movie anymore. They never got to finish it though.

As soon as Y/N decided to pay attention to the screen again, she received a call from an unknown caller ID.

It was from a hospital.

The Hill Crest community hospital was one hour drive from where she lived, and it was already past midnight then, but she couldn't sit and wait until morning after they'd said her brother had been found in a car crash, and unconscious when they brought him in. Y/N's mind was empty, her heart was pounding like a drum. The girl was literally going insane as she threw on some clothes, wanting to go see her brother right away. She insisted on going there alone, but Harry didn't let that happen. He ended up giving her a ride, because after what had happened to her brother he needed to make sure she got there safely.

It was around two in the morning when they arrived. Y/N was already on the verge of tears as she rushed into the lobby like a mad woman, and asked the lady at the front desk about her brother's condition. In the car she had thought of the worst scenarios while praying for the best. So as soon as she heard from the nurse that Darren is still alive, and just regained consciousness, she couldn't help but dissolve in happy tears. Y/N asked if she was allowed to see him, and they say she was, but they need to talk to her about his general condition first.

The young couple followed a female doctor into a room where she showed them Darren's x-rays, and explained the severity of his injury, as well as how long it would take for him to recover. Then the woman talked about how the accident had happened. The more she said, the less Y/N believed. Maybe the girl was just in denial, thinking she knew her brother better than the people there. Maybe she didn't want to think she didn't really know him that well. Or maybe, she just didn't know how to feel about what she'd just found out. It hurt her enough to be here, now that she knew the reason why there'd been an accident, she was half angry, half perplexed.

Sighing, Y/N flopped down on the armchair by her brother's hospital bed, with Harry holding her shoulders to keep her calm. "I just talked to the doctor. You'll be lying here for months, Darren!"

"I know, kid. I'm also a doctor." Darren flashed her a broken smile because the stitches on his face made it hard for even such small movements.

"And an idiot," his sister replied, squeezing her own forehead. "Do you want me to call Emily?"

"No." Darren's reaction when Y/N brought up his wife made the young couple very confused as they exchange questioning looks.

"Well, she's gonna know eventually."

The long pause which followed what Harry had said told Y/N something was definitely wrong. She'd felt it since she received the hospital call about Darren's accident, only to find out later that he had been drunk driving. There was a reason he was her parents' favorite, he was the most responsible man she'd known. So him doing something so thoughtless and putting his life in danger was what she would never have expected.

"Emily and I..." Darren spoke at last. Neither Harry nor Y/N could tell the pain in his voice was physical or emotional, or it could be a terrible mixture of both kinds. "She's been sleeping with another man."

"What?" Y/N sat up straight and Harry's grip on her shoulders tightened to keep her in place. "How...did you find out?"

"She fucking admitted herself. Can you believe it?" Darren struggled to release a laugh, more like he was laughing at himself for being stupid enough to end up in this situation. But Y/N knew it wasn't his fault that Emily was unfaithful, he truly loved that woman.

Harry insisted on going so Y/N could chat with her brother, even after Darren had said it would be okay if he stayed. Harry just thought it would be easier for Darren to talk about what happened when it was just him and Y/N. He told them he's go buy some snacks and be right back, then kissed her once, and left the room.

It wasn't a very busy night in the hospital so Harry didn't expect to run into a friend or even an acquaintance here. However, as soon as he stepped into the lift, a familiar figure dashed inside right before the door was closed. At first, Harry didn't remember having met the man before, it wasn't his fault because it had been only one time, and they hadn't said a word to each other then.

Harry politely stepped aside so this guy could press a button. But the moment they made eye-contact, it only took one second for them to recognize each other. Both were equally surprised.

"Hey, you're—"

"Jack. I work with Y/N. We've met before." This time, unlike the last, Jack gave Harry an amiable smile as he shook his hand.

Harry'd had weirder encounters than this. He recalled that time, back in university, he had been partnered up with a girl he'd hooked up with who'd loathed him deeply. And so he ended up doing all the work for that class because she'd refused to help or even communicate. He thought it was already the most awkward moment ever in his life. But this definitely topped it all. He looked at the digital signage above the door, waiting for the number to jump to '1' while silently cursing the lift for moving so slowly.

Suddenly, Jack spoke up, "why are you here? Is...is Y/N okay?"

"She's fine." Harry cleared his throat, not very surprised when Jack's icebreaker question was about his fiancé. This guy cannot be anymore obvious, can he? "Her brother was in a car crash."

"Jesus! Is he okay?"

"He's gonna be here for months but he's better now...How's your mother?"

At first Jack was taken aback by Harry's question, then he soon realized how Harry got that information and let out a small laugh along with a sigh. "I told my assistant not to tell anyone but she still did." He paused a bit, pulling his eyebrows together. "The doctor said she was doing better so I hope she's gonna be alright. Thanks for asking by the way."

Harry cracked a friendly smile, then says he wished that for her as well. The conversation stopped there. Just like that. Neither of them made an attempt to prolong the dialogue, which seemed to be facing a dead end anyway. Between two men who were in love with the same woman, there was obviously a lot to discuss, but at the same time, nothing at all.

Harry didn't need a long heart-to-heart conversation with Jack to believe everything he already knew is true. As soon as Jack opened his mouth and asked if Y/N was okay, Harry could see it in his eyes that he genuinely cared about her and would be truly hurt had the answer been 'no'. Even though he trusted his fiancé with his entire life, when another man had such strong feelings for your woman, no matter how decent he was, you couldn't help but feel troubled by his affection for her.

The lift stopped on the second floor, and Jack exited after having said goodbye. Not until then did Harry suddenly remember the wedding dress thing. He took the last opportunity to quickly thank Jack for it, but never received a reply, just one last cordial grin, before the door shut between them two.

Jack showed up at work the next day, unexpectedly, even when nobody had informed him about the emergency meeting beforehand.

The clients had disapproved their entire content plan for March, the deadline was near, and everyone was freaking out. Normally Jack would be the one to solve most of the company's problems, but since he had made it clear that he didn't want to be bothered during this week, no one dared to mention a word about this to him. That was why seeing the man enter the conference room was a huge shock for every single person here.

The young vice president calmly laid down his laptop on the table, and asked Kate to briefly summarize what had been requested in the email from their clients. He acted like nothing was wrong, which successfully had everyone in this room fooled, everyone but Kate and Y/N, who knew the truth.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried not to think too much about Jack being back at work and acting so out of character. Sure he still acted like a self-centered know-it-all during the meeting, Y/N didn't know how to describe it, but she just knew that wasn't like him. Every time she glanced into his office, she either saw him on the phone talking to someone, while looking like the world's coming to an end, or him sitting quietly at his desk, with his head in his hands, like the world had already ended. He wasn't as composed as he wanted other people to think.

"Come in."

Y/N slowly opened the door to the VP's office, feeling nervous as she stepped in and found Jack still typing something on his laptop, not giving at least one look at her. His hair was unkempt and his tie was loose, she thought after consuming that much coffee during the day he would look more energetic than the way he looked now, 'a literal mess' she would say.

"Everyone's gone home. Why are you still here?" she asked quietly, marching closer to his desk, still receiving not a single eye-contact from the man.

"Because none of you could get the job done, that's why."

Y/N was actually appalled by the attitude she received, because she had expected the same Jack who'd comforted her and sent her a wedding dress, not this insensible man he'd pretended to be.

"This morning before you showed up, we'd got everything under c—"

"If you'd got everything under control..." He pointed a finger at her and finally lifted his face up "...then the clients wouldn't have directly called me."

"Bu—"

"Just...Just go home alright? I can handle this." He waved his hand to the door in annoyance. But instead of following his order like an employee should, Y/N pulled out a chair to sit down in front of Jack by his desk, leaving him startled.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Stop asking questions, work's not gonna finish itself!" Ignoring the look on her boss' face, Y/N took one of his pens and turned his laptop screen a bit towards her so she could read the document on it. She heard him chuckle and say something about her acting more like a boss than he was.

"Okay then." The dark-haired man sighed in content as he relaxed his shoulders and checked the time on his watch. "Let's get this done so you can leave me alone."

Harry got off work early and drove to the hospital to see Darren. The doctors wanted to do some tests for him and they required at least one family member to be in presence. And since Y/N was stuck at work, because the clients couldn't stop nagging about new deadlines, as well as old ones, Harry told her not to worry, that he would be here for her brother, and pick her up from work afterwards.

Now that everything was almost finished, one of the nurses told Harry to wait here with Darren and when she returned he'd be free to go. As the woman left the room, Harry sat down in the armchair by Darren's bed, and told the older man it was not big of a deal when he kept thanking him for everything.

"She's so lucky to have you." Darren tried to put on a smile. "That kid's been through a lot. She always gives, and most people just don't appreciate her."

"It's me who's lucky to have her," Harry disagreed, telling Darren that there'd been a tremendous change in his life ever since they first met, and he honestly couldn't wait to start a new chapter with the love of his life as an official married couple.

"So have you two decided the wedding date yet?"

Harry didn't even hesitate when he answered that question, saying, "yes, we're getting married in June."

"June?!" Although Darren was unable to move most of the muscles on his face due to the pain it might cause, Harry still saw how shocked he was, which was not really surprising, because Niall and Layla had reacted the same way when he broke the news to them. "That's three months from now! It normally takes at least ten months to a year to plan a wedding, kid! It's not a birthday party!"

"We're not gonna do it the traditional way," Harry replied while beaming. "It's just gonna be a small ceremony and dinner party with a few guests, close friends and family only."

Darren appeared more relaxed now that he'd got the answer, but he still seemed a bit puzzled. "That doesn't sound like Y/N, she's obsessed with wedding planning."

"Tell me about it!" Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "I was surprised when she suggested that we have a small wedding. But it does take away a lot of stress, you know, with all the big decisions you'd have to make, the theme, the music and everything."

Darren chuckled slightly as he heard that. "When I was getting married, she kept begging me to let her plan my wedding. Obviously I said no because I didn't want her to neglect school and take in too much responsibility." When it got to this part, the atmosphere in the room, as well as Darren's cheerfulness, died down at once. Harry felt like it was his fault, maybe he shouldn't have ranted about his happy soon-to-be-married life with Y/N when her brother's marriage was falling apart and he was lying there, in the hospital.

So he apologized for it, however, Darren told him he shouldn't be sorry. "You're marrying my little sister, Harry. We're a family now, we can freely talk about this kind of stuff." There was a long indecisive pause before the man went on, "I feel so bad for telling Y/N about Emily, the kid really adored her."

"You don't have to feel bad about anything, Darren. None of it was your fault."

"But it was..." Darren shook his head. "Actually, everything, from start to finish, was half my fault."

Harry wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he'd done everything he could have and it was Emily's choice to betray his loyalty. However, he felt like the man'd got a lot more to say. So instead of speaking his mind, he stayed quiet and allowed Darren to begin..

"We got together at a very bad time in her life," he remembered. "Her long-term boyfriend had just left her, she was a single mother. She hadn't met anyone who treated her better, so she assumed I was the one that she should spend the rest of her life with." The shivering in his voice was almost heart-wrenching. And Harry thought Darren's happiness might've just ended with those three sentences.

"But I'm not her soulmate like we both thought I was, I've never been the one true love of her life. So when her real love came..." The man paused to exhale "...she was already my wife. Emily soon realized she made a mistake by marrying me, and it was too late. It hurt me so much when she told me the truth, but that was when I knew she didn't love me anymore. I had to let her go. It's so sad because she's my everything and I'm not that for her anymore. But if she's happier with the other guy, who am I to keep her by my side?"

Harry knew it was Darren's story, it had nothing to do with him nor it would ever affect his own life, yet for some reasons he couldn't explain, he was afraid.

Before al this, Y/N couldn't stop talking about how much she admired her brother's marriage, she had also made Harry believe Darren and Emily were meant to be together, the definition of true love. But the bitter pill to swallow was, loving someone with all your heart and soul and having them love you back wouldn't guarantee that they'd forever feel the same. Even though it was just one brief thought that came and left his mind like a breeze, Harry was worried that someday, like Emily, Y/N might meet someone else and realize Harry was not her soulmate, then she might regret marrying him so soon.

And the possibility of her leaving him one day was unbearable to think of.

Jack couldn't remember the last time he felt this way. He was never the kind of person who thought highly of himself (not all the time at least), but he rarely got nervous around girls no matter how gorgeous they were. The fact that all of his past relationships had been with women who were either older than him or at the same age, and now he was getting sweaty palms being alone with a girl three years younger than him, gave him a headache, which he might blame on stress and caffein. But he knew it was all her.

Y/N didn't notice his stare, she kept her eyes on her laptop screen, trying to figure out why the costs for online ads had got so big. Jack hated to admit this, but he thought she was adorable when she touched her nose way too often, and furrowed her eyebrows as she concentrated too hard. Then he started smiling subconsciously, only to stopped himself when he remembered that she was already engaged, and her fiancé was actually a nice person.

Speaking of which...

"Isn't Harry coming to pick you up?" he asked, pulling her back to reality as she blinked at him a few times, making him smile.

"He's a bit busy so he's gonna be here late." She didn't tell him exactly why Harry was busy. Knowing Jack's mother was also in the hospital, she didn't want to mention her brother right now. Ironically, Jack ended up being the one to bring that up.

"How's your brother by the way?" He seemed concerned, then quick to add, "Also, I ran into Harry last night, great lad."

"Yeah, he told me." She chuckled slightly. "My brother is fine, thanks for asking. As for Harry, he said he didn't have a chance to properly thank you for the dress."

"No, he did thank me." Jack shook his head. "But there's really no need since you insisted on paying me back the money."

"It's wrong to accept such an expensive gift from anyone, not just your boss." She raised an eyebrow at Jack, flashing him a smile. "But honestly, I cannot thank you enough for getting me the same dress that I lost to someone else. How did you—"

All of a sudden, Y/N's question got interrupted by the sound of Jack's ringtone. He put one finger up, telling her to wait as he took this call, which seemed to be important because of how he reacted after seeing the caller ID. Y/N couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the line says to him, but she held his eye-contact the entire time. She hadn't seen this kind of look since the day Harry got the news his stepfather had passed away. Jack didn't need to say a single word to let Y/N knew what was happening. When he hung up, without saying one word to the caller, he almost forgot how to breathe.

"Hey..." Y/N slightly touched his arm. "Are you...okay?"

The man rose from his seat, causing the girl to do the same. He stood with his back facing her and demanded her to leave him alone. He sounded so serious, yet at the same time, broken. He expected her to already be at the door when he took a deep breath and repeated the same sentence for the second time, only louder. But she was still there. Why is she still there?

"Y/N, just...leave. Go home."

Y/N knew she should listen, but at the same time, she could imagine what it was like to be in his shoes. When she rushed into the hospital demanding to see her brother, she thought he wouldn't make it, and she wouldn't have made it either had Harry not been by her side. If she was Jack now, the last thing she would want was to be left alone. So despite everything he had just said, she took a deep breath, and reached out to touch his shoulder. Suddenly, he turned around, swiftly locking his fingers around her wrist, and she was in utter shock. Her eyes opened wide, staring right into his, which were already filled with tears. When they first met, she never would've though one day she would get to see her boss sad, let alone cry, never would've expected it to be in a situation like this.

Without saying a word, he dropped his head down onto her shoulder and burst into quiet sobs, arms came to wrap around her waist. And so she hugger him back and keeps telling him it was gonna be alright, even if she knew those words were meaningless to him now. She just didn't have the heart to stay quiet and let the heartbreaking sounds he made take over.

While Y/N was comforting her boss, who'd just lost the biggest love of his life, Harry was waiting right outside in his car for her. He kept checking his watch and wondering what was taking her so long because he wasn't that early. But as soon as he saw her walk out of the building with Jack, and they stopped to share a long hug before saying goodbye, there was a strange feeling of sadness that he couldn't describe in words.

"Is everything alright, love?" He asked her after she had got into the car and kissed him on the lips. She looked so sad, still gazing at the man who was watching them from the outside.

"Jack's mother passed away..." Y/N gave her fiancé a frown as she buckled her seatbelt. "He was crying so I stayed to comfort him."

The rest of the drive back was weighed down by silence. Harry tried to keep his eyes on the road, but every once in a little while he took a quick glance at her, trying to read what was on her mind. Her hand remained resting on his knee but she was looking outside from the window on her left, preoccupied with something else. Harry was literally on the edge of his seat on the entire way home.

His biggest fear almost came to life when they arrived at the flat, he walked into the living room but she lingered at the front door. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough to break his heart.

"I think we should postpone the wedding."

He was paralysed for almost two seconds before finding the courage to ask her why in a trembling voice. That was when she knew he was afraid she might be doubting her decision to marry him, so she released a faint laugh and approached him so she could hold him tight.

"This has nothing to do with you and me, love," she reassured him, placing her hands at the back of his neck to pull back a little bit so they look at each other in the eye. "My brother's recovery is gonna take more than three months, and...not to mention the thing with Emily...I don't want to invite him to our wedding when he's got divorce papers to sign."

Harry nodded understandingly, then took a deep breath and laid his hands on her sides. "It's okay, if that's what you want."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not. I want the best for you and for your brother too," he replied and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. When he pulled away, Harry was startled to see her burst out crying. His first reaction was to cup her cheeks and repeatedly asked her if he had said something wrong.

"No, no...I...You didn't..." She sobbed, shaking her head as he wiped away her tears. "I just love you so much."

Harry didn't expect that at all. As much as he hated to see her in tears, he found that moment adorable and amusing still, so he tossed his head back, laughing, then pulled her close. "Shhh, stop it, princess. You're gonna make me cry."

"We're still getting married okay?" She mumbled into his chest, smiling through the tears. She'd been thinking about this decision on the drive back home, second guessing what his reaction would be. She had expected him to be upset since her brother and his wife had been the reason she didn't want to get married in three months like they'd planned. She had expected something else, not this, not him telling her he could wait without even knowing how long it was gonna take for this whole thing to be settled.

"It doesn't matter how long." He kissed her forehead. "I can wait."

Those three words caused her to once again withdraw from the grip of his arms so that she could see and caress his beautiful face. "Thank you for everything," she whispered to him. "For helping my brother, for being here, for loving me. I don't think anyone's gonna love me as much as you do."

"But..." Harry knew he should shut up before he said something stupid, but he ended up saying the stupid thing anyway, "if...there's someone else...better than me, and loves you just as much, will you still want me then?"

Y/N lifted an eyebrow, giving him a funny look as she asked inbetween soft giggles, "are you insane? What are you talking about? Did Darren say something to you?"

"No," he lied. "Never mind, it's just a dumb question."

"It is! Don't you ever doubt me again!" She playfully stroked the top of his head, then remembered something important. "Wait! Where's the cat?!"

"Relax, she's with Nam."

"Nam wasn't there when we came in."

"He's probably gossiping with the dog lady on the second floor again. 'Working'." Harry's air-quotes made Y/N laugh as he kissed her on the cheek, saying he'd come downstairs to get their kitten. But before he made it to the hallway, she stopped him in his tracks.

"Husband."

"Hmm?" He turned around, eyebrows raised, lips pressed together.

"Nothing." She bit back a smile, shaking her head. "I just wanted to call you that."

The sound of that word from her lips never failed to leave Harry grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he exhaled and rolled his eyes in response. "Wife," he said, emphasizing the sweet title with a firm nod, then didn't forget to send her a wink before walking out.

#i got lazy so please ignore any mistakes in this chapter 😂#flatmate!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagines

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ellixthea · 5 years

Text

Unpredictable - Part 2

A/N: My last finals are tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier! Here’s the second part, hope you like it!

Tag list: @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @lauraurietaylor

During the party, when you saw Jo going inside the house, you followed her to get more information about this guy. “Jo, who is your new friend? I have never seen him before.” “Oh Colson? Yeah, I’ve met him like 2 months ago? We went to the same party and he is the friend of Mike’s best friend. He is a nice guy and very fun to party with. Why?” she asked you. “Oh um, I just wanted to know since I don’t know him.” You said and left. You felt so embarrassed that you needed to end this conversation. You didn’t know why you couldn’t stop think about him even though you were in the same place.

The day was going on and you would sometimes glance at him. You would sometimes catch him look at you, but he would quickly look away. You didn’t know what was going on, but you tried not to over think it. Soon it was the night which meant it was time for the fireworks. Your dad set them in your garden, which by the way was large and soon enough the show was on. The night sky was replaced by blue, red, and green lights. It was amazing. Your sister was laying next to you on the grass. It was your “tradition”, to be laid next to each other during the fireworks. The party kept going until the next day and finished at around 1p.m. You were low key happy when everyone left because you needed to sleep but also a little bit sad because you didn’t know when you would see Colson again and if you would ever see him again. You helped your parents cleaning the house and you took a 3 hours nap. You woke at the end of the afternoon, feeling still tired.

The next day would be Monday which meant that you would start working at your local music store. You needed to make money over summer and since you had already worked there before, they immediately agreed when you applied there. You were preparing your clothes for work when you heard your phone buzzing. It was Jo.

Jo: Hey, I’m throwing a party at my place next weekend, wanna come?

You: Yes, sounds good to me 😉 can’t wait!

You found yourself loving parties more than you excepted and you couldn’t wait for hers since they were always crazy. It was time for you to sleep since you had to get up early for work.

The next morning, you woke up feeling tired, but you couldn’t deny that you were excited for your first day at work. You knew some people who worked there, and you were happy to see them again. You got ready and you were on your way to work. Once you were there, the boss explained to you what your work would consist of and you would arrange CDs, help customers if they needed you and you would sometimes be at the cashier. He explained you a few other things and then the stores opened which meant your day was beginning.

Your colleague, Sam, that you met when you worked there last summer was there and you were happy to see him again. He was at the cashier for the day which meant you would help customers. The day was quiet until the middle of the afternoon. A group of guys came. They didn’t seem to need any help, so you kept what you were doing in one of the shelves. You were done with putting promotions on some articles when you turned around to go to another shelf when you assumed a member of the group came in the shelf you were already in. It took you a second before realizing who it was. Colson. You literally froze. When he saw that you were looking at him, he stopped walking as if he knew your face but was recalling from where. You stared at each other without saying a word for what felt like 10 minutes before one of his friends called for him. “Yeah I’m coming.” He said, turned around and left. You let out your breath that you didn’t notice you were holding before bringing yourself back to reality and do your work. It was awkward yet you kind of liked it. His eyes were a beautiful blue, his hair was messy but looked good, and his inked arms looked even more prettier.

The rest of the week went faster than you expected which you didn’t mind. It was Friday and you were out to meet Lara for dinner. “So how was your first week?” she asked me, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. “It was good actually, Sam definitely made it funnie,r what about you?” “Well, working with my mom is cool but I couldn’t do what she is doing. Papers, papers and papers again. Too much for me.” She said and you laughed. You loved this human so bad. She looked at him with a smirk which meant something was on her mind. “What?” “I guess you forgot to talk to me about something.” She said and you panicked, and you had no clue what she was talking about. “You have to be more specific.” “The guy at your house last weekend. Did you get his number?” she asked, her smirk even more present. How the hell did she know. You haven’t talked to anybody about it. “Wh- What?” “I saw the way you looked at him. My girl has a crush!! So, do you have his number??” “No! of course not! Plus, he is my Jo’s friend I can’t.” “Oh c’mon! You know that Jo wouldn’t mind!” “Still! And I don’t have any way to contact him since you don’t have his number.” You said. You knew deep down that you wished that you had it. “Ask Jo then!” “No fucking way!” you replied and laughed. You just couldn’t. “It’s okay though, I don’t think of him that much since I don’t see him, besides on Monday he went to the store.” Lara looked at you with big eyes and almost spilled her drink. “Oh, dear Lord! Did you guys talk??” “Nope actually we stared at each other it was awkward but it’s okay there are minor chances that I see him again. Well unless he goes to Jo’s party tomorrow night.” And you stopped at the end of your sentence. You didn’t think of the possibility of him going to the party tomorrow and you started to freak out. “Oh my God!! Can I come??” “You know that you are always welcome to her parties.” “Okay so tonight I’m gonna pray that he will come tomorrow and trust me that if he does you will talk to him.” She said and you laughed. Knowing that Lara would be there was a relief, but you were still scared that he would show up.

The next day, Lara met you at your parents’ house to get ready with you for the party. You weren’t supposed to be well-dressed, but you wanted to look good, just in case. You did your hair and makeup and you headed to your sister’s apartment.

When you arrived, it was already crowed. Music was playing but not too loud. Lara and you made your way to the living room and Jo greeted you. “Girls! I’m glad you’re here. You know the place, make yourself at home and please don’t drink too much.” She said and gave you a warm smile before leaving you. You knew most people there, so you weren’t uncomfortable. Lara knew some of them as well, so it wasn’t awkward. “Okay I’m gonna get us a beer. Remember if you see him, don’t freeze and go talk to him.” She said and left without giving you a chance to say something back. You were standing there, not knowing what to do and hoping not to see at that moment when you felt two hands coming from behind, covering your eyes. “Guess who?” And by the voice you instantly knew it was Mike. “Um let me guess, Mike?” “How?” you turned around to face him. “Your voice. I could recognize it between a hundred.” You said and he looked defeated which made you laugh. Lara came back with your beer but left as soon as she came because she saw someone she hadn’t seen for a while. So, it was only Mike and you. “It’s been a while since the last time I saw you. I was happy when Jo told me you were coming tonight.” “I know! With uni and all, I’ve been busy. I’m happy to see you too. I hope you’re taking good care of Jo while ’m away.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s between good hands with me.” He replied and you gave him a smile. You were talking when someone hold him a beer. You looked at the person and you froze when you realized who it was. Colson. You couldn’t run away. Stay cool and yourself. That was what you told yourself. “Thanks dude. Oh, by the way she’s Y/N. She’s pretty cool.” He said and winked at you. You didn’t know why he did that to be honest. “Yeah I already saw you right?” He asked, his blue eyes looking at you. You could feel your cheeks turning red. “Yeah, you were at my parents’ house the 4th and we ran into each other the other day at the music store.” “Oh yes that’s right. Wait you’re Jo’s sister?” “I am.” You replied worried that your chances with him would be lower by answering his question. “Oh cool. I’m Colson by the way.” “Nice to meet you Colson.” You said smiling. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He started to talk with Mike and at the corner of your eyes you saw Lara making you huge signs, telling you to talk to him. “Okay” you mouthed and kept up with their conversation. During the conversation, he would glance at you which made you melt but you tried not make up ideas. After a while, you went to the balcony. You needed some air. You were looking at the city’s lights. The view was beautiful. It was the first time since your last relationship that you were feeling something for someone. You wanted to let yourself accept what you were feeling but also, you were scared to be hurt again. You were thinking about what was going on when you felt a presence next to you and it was Colson. Only Colson. “Hey.” He said to you and looked at the view. “Hey.” you replied, looking quickly at him. “What are you doing here all by yourself?” “Oh, I just needed some air.” “You okay?” “Yeah, don’t worry about me. So how come I have never seen you before. I mean I know every friend of my sister and she has never mentioned your name to me.” “Oh yeah, I’ve met her not so long ago, but we have a friend in common so yeah.” “Oh, that’s cool.” You simply replied. You didn’t know what to say even though you wanted to talk to him. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “So, tell me more about yourself.” You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. The way his eyes were leaned on you was giving you butterflies. “Well, I’m a college student so my life is basically classes, assignments and parties.” You said and you both laughed. “Oh, you like to party huh?” He asked, not breaking the eye contact. You loved the sound of his voice. Deep and calm. “I do yeah.” You replied smiling at him. You looked at him again and you just started at each other without saying a word. He looked down at you since he was very tall. You just stared and he eventually smiled which turned into a smirk. Suddenly, Jo opened the bay window which brought you back to reality. “Y/N! You must dance! I put this song especially for you.” She said and left. “Well I guess duty is calling me.” You said and left. Your heart was beating so fast and it was hard to process what have happened. You had a moment. Everything was perfect. You didn’t know and you wouldn’t want to think about it at that moment. You just wanted to dance on your song. you didn’t speak to Colson for the rest of the night since you would be in a conversation with different people, but you would glance at each other sometimes. It was around 4 a.m. when you left, and you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to him since you couldn’t find him. When you arrived at your parents’ house, Lara fell quickly asleep leaving you the only one awaken, thinking about that night.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine

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urflowersdied · 5 years

Text

cold as ice(d coffee)

In which Norah really just wants to make some money to finance her student life and Harry is her super serious, but incredibly soft-looking, café-owning boss.

A/N: Initially this was supposed to be a one shot, because I just wanted to write a story in one go and have you guys read and (hopefully) enjoy it, but turns out that’s something I don’t know how to do. So, here is the first, 4.7k long part of this three-part series. I have to thank some friends on Twitter who will get their own message, but I’m also immensely thankful for @dadshirtking, who was incredibly supportive and a really helpful creative mind, @bribe-the-door, for being loving and positive and kind and the sweetest person around, and @isitjamiemoriarty, for being the world’s greatest feedback giver and without whom I probably would’ve gone crazy trying to figure this story out.

Hope you enjoy!

Norah was absolutely fuming. It seemed like just her luck that on the first day of her job the trains seemed to have decided on making her life all that much harder and arrived with a one-hour-delay. Presenting herself disheveled due to running all the way from Manchester Piccadilly to The Brewing Pot probably would not improve the impression she was bound to make on her new colleagues, but that was a risk she was willing to take in order to get there just a few moments quicker.

She knew that it could be quite difficult for a student employee to get on well with their full-time colleagues, which was why she had devised a seemingly foolproof plan to make the first day go swimmingly. Norah had spent all of last night looking up some hilarious jokes she would try to sneak into some conversations and additionally baked some of her grandmother’s famous triple chocolate chip cookies. In hindsight, she realises that she had been hired as a help in a café where an actual baker worked in order to prepare all the sweet treats for the customers, but by then it was too late. She just hoped her colleagues would at least pretend to be interested in her amateur baking.

It wasn’t even as though this was her dream job. Far from it, actually. She loved spending time in cafés, but rather nursing a cup of coffee herself than working behind the counter with a constant fake smile plastered upon her face while listening to the ridiculous orders she had to fulfil. Needless to say, this was not her first job of this kind. She had held down her job at one of the coffee bars that were littered around her university campus for the first year and a half of her degree pursuit. After one of her coworkers had refused to stop their incessant flirting at her old job — and her boss had not even batted an eyelash when she mentioned her discomfort about the situation to them — she had felt forced to quit.

The first few weeks without a job seemed extremely relaxing, but when she had to decline her friend’s invitation to a night out because she wouldn’t have been able to afford the night - because, really, how expensive were the drinks at that club? - she decided to get back on her feet. Norah quite enjoyed working. Enjoyed the routine that came with having more than just her pain-in-the-ass philosophy class or some lecture that she would most likely not pay any attention to anyway to get her out of bed in the mornings. The social aspect that came with working was also something she cherished. She had always been a little more shy and dealing with colleagues was a fairly simple way to force herself to interact with humans without making too much of a fool out of herself.

Turns out, finding a new place of work in a town full of students had not been the easiest task. After asking around some of her friends and a few smaller shops around her university and gained nothing but shrugs and rejections, she decided to broaden her scope. She didn’t really mind taking the train to get to work - instead found it rather calming, actually -, so when she finally got the offer to work as a barista at The Brewing Pot in the heart of Manchester she had jumped at the opportunity.

The Brewing Pot was one of the most charming shops she had ever stepped foot in. The café section of the store was made up of wooden tables, tons of plants and some mismatched couches and armchairs. If you were to wander further into the building, though, you were greeted by tons of shelves filled with secondhand books. There was an extremely quaint, homely feel to the whole place. She didn’t even really mind the train ride she had to take in order to get to and from her new place of work.

The only aspect that made her feel a little on edge was her boss, whom she had met only once before during her job interview, which had not been all that fun. When she first laid her eyes on him, she had quite honestly been a little taken aback. He was absolutely gorgeous, with chocolate curls, piercing green eyes covered by a really expensive-looking pair of glasses - she was fairly certain she had spotted an engraved Gucci sign on them - and his very tall frame had been adorned by the most endearing knitted sweater. He had truly looked like the kind of man Norah could only have conjured up in her wildest dreams. That she would one day actually get to breathe the same air as such a specimen seemed laughable to her. But once he had opened his mouth, the fantasy she had created in a few milliseconds was destroyed just as quickly.

He had not been extremely rude to her, rather he had really only given her the bare minimum amount of time of day needed that could be deemed socially acceptable. Harry Styles seemed like quite the serious man though, not cracking one single smile at any of her attempted funny comments during their meeting. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to establish some ground rules on how he interacts with his employees or if he’d just gotten up on the wrong foot that morning, but she had definitely felt infinitely intimidated in his presence. Of course, looking back now, this first encounter with him did not calm her current frazzled state in any type of way.

Completely out of breath - she really should get started on that New Year’s resolution of hers to make actual use of her gym membership -, she pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by a jingle of the bells which notified everyone inside of a new entrance. Taking a quick glance towards the huge clock that adorned one of the brick walls in the café segment of the building, she thanked her lucky stars that she had decided to sprint. She thought that being a mere five minutes too late was the best case scenario in this really bad situation.

After gathering her hair up into some sort of ponytail to seem at least a little put together, she approached the counter. The wary smile on her lips paired with a nervous fumble of her fingers was probably enough to tip off the guy behind the counter as to who exactly she was. “Norah, right? You’re new, yeah? I’m Adam, supposed to show you around today!”

And, really, she could not have asked for a more charming person than Adam to show her the ropes and make her feel at home in her new job. Her other colleagues had also presented themselves as wonderfully kind people, but over the course of the next few weeks Adam had quickly established himself as one of her closest friends. For whichever curious reason, their shifts often overlapped and being of similar age only propelled their mutual understanding and bond into great heights. Dealing with some of the infuriating customers that visited, she was extremely delighted to be able to unload some of the stress into the ears of Adam, who completely understood her pain.

Therefore it’s pretty understandable how disappointed she is when he calls her one Monday morning to tell her he won’t be able to make it to their shared shift. As usual on Mondays the café was closed for business, but there had been an incredible amount of orders to fulfil for a wedding that was taking place the following day.

Ever since she started working there, her coworkers had given her crash courses on how to improve not only her own cookie recipe, which they had actually immensely enjoyed after she had mustered up enough courage to offer them to her colleagues, but also on how to perfectly follow the café’s original recipes. So when the question of who would come in on their day off to get a head start on the orders arose, she had felt pretty secure in offering her time and energy alongside Adam. The same Adam who had now left her to her own devices, because he had inspected the bottom of one too many bottles the night before.

Taking advantage of her solitude in the kitchen of The Brewing Pot, Norah blasted her ultimate mood-lifting album - does she even have to mention that it’s Nilsson Schmilsson? - through the speakers that were installed to help motivate the staff during their work day. She was already dreading having to pipe about 170 cupcakes once they had cooled from their time in the oven as the entry bells to the store chimed.

Before she was even able to wonder who interrupted her jamming session to Without You (and also, had she just imagined triple-checking the locked entry door after arriving?), a disheveled-looking Harry Styles appeared in front of her eyes. Up until now she had only ever witnessed her boss on fleeting occasions, him often not being present during her shifts or hidden away in his office if he was in the vicinity.

So you cannot possibly hold it against her when she completely freezes up and just blinks her eyes at him a couple of times instead of actually making use of her vocal chords to inquire about why he was stood here, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed but simultaneously giving Adonis a run for his money. Luckily, he decides to address her first. “Good morning. I’ve been trying to find someone to come help you out but it’s too much of a short notice for everyone, so I hope you’ll accept my help.”

And because it really wasn’t her place to dismiss his offer, which could get her back on the train, home and into her warm cozy bed a little quicker, she shot him a timid smile. “A helping hand would be more than welcome to me right now, thanks.” Those words were apparently all he needed in order to kick into gear, as he rolled up the sleeves of yet another adorable knitted sweater. She quickly sprung into actions as well and turned the volume of the speakers down by a vast amount, so that the wonderful melodies by Harry Nilsson only soft drifted through the kitchen.

The space that wasn’t occupied by their bodies trying to move about the kitchen without much interaction was filled by uncomfortable silence. His presence did not calm the movement of her hands, which was already shaky due to her fear regarding finishing up these cupcakes. Additionally to looking so wonderful that she would much rather put the icing on him rather than the baked goods, he was also her boss, which meant that she would have to try her damnedest not to mess up.

“How old are you again, Mister Styles?” She had to break the silence which had quickly settled over them somehow, right? To her, it seemed more awkward to not engage with each other while being confined in the close proximity the kitchen provided.

What she had not taken into account was that Harry Styles did not seem like much of a conversationalist. After a short confused glance at her - he must have momentarily forgotten that she is also taking up space in the kitchen, why else would he be so surprised for her to be speaking up? - he gives her the shortest reply possible. “I’m 27.”

It’s not as if she is extroverted in any kind of way, it’s just that awkward situations are even more difficult to handle for her than actually conversing. Which is why she definitely understands the hint his short answer was supposed to give her but she chooses to ignore it regardless. “So, Adam told me you’ve owned this place for like 5 years… Why did you open it at such a young age?”

“Didn’t open it myself. The owner needed a replacement and chose me.” His shortage of words stunned her a little bit. She could definitely tell he was starting to get frustrated with her incessant talking, but he seemed too polite to confront her about it. It didn’t seem to her as though she was prying into his life. She was just asking a few standard questions, no harm meant in any way.

Nevertheless, she let silence overtake the space once again and let her eyes drift from the cupcake bases she had been trying to cool by aimlessly wiggling another baking tray over it towards her boss. His head bent down (his glasses didn’t seem to budge at all which intrigued her more than it probably should), cradling a filled piping bag in his now bare hands - usually they were ring-clad, and she had been itching to ask about whether any of them held some sort of special meaning to him just like the quartz ring that she sported on her right pointer finger did to her -, she knew she was fucked.

Unsurprisingly, she had always had the tendency to gush over males who portrayed a certain distance, an unattainability. Harry Styles, though, definitely took the cake. He did not seem interested in maintaining the exchange of vowels and consonants between them in the slightest. Rather he made it seem as though these baked goods were his sole purpose in life, as he gave them his full attention.

She had noticed some thoughts cross her mind a few times before already. That he always seemed too serious, almost stoic, his mood always seeming solemn, and how that did not correlate with the beautiful features of his physique at all. His hands looked delicate, his lips pouty and the area around his stomach and hips incredibly soft - which stood in contrast to his otherwise incredibly lean frame wonderfully. Maybe her self-proclaimed hopeless romanticism had something to do with it, but had this intricate feeling as though he wasn’t born such a low-spirited person. Perhaps that was why she decided to open her mouth again. “Do you know the people who are getting married tomorrow? Like, the couple who -”

“Listen, I think you’re doing a great job working here, but I am not really interested in making friends with my employees. So if we could just… finish this order, I’d really appreciate that.”

Remember when she declared him as being too polite to call her out on awkwardly trying to attempt a conversation? She definitely takes that sentiment back. Surprised, her hands falter in their current swirling motion and lift the piping bag away from the cakes he so badly wants to complete in order to not completely mess up. She isn’t entirely fond of the idea of turning this whole encounter into an even bigger disaster than she has already found herself in.

Even after analysing the exchange in lightning speed, she couldn’t figure out where exactly she went wrong. What had warranted his coarse reply? Being completely honest, he had infuriated her. Not wanting to blur a line between friends and employees made sense to her, if that was what he really wanted. But there were right and wrong ways to make her aware of his penchant. Harry Styles had chosen to go about it in a wrong way.

“I’m sorry for prying, Mister Styles. I was just looking to make conversation. If you aren’t interested in being friendly with me and insisting on being a sourpuss, then that is your right. But please be civil when you inform me of that. It’s just common courtesy, isn’t it?”

For a moment she holds her breath. His eyes shot up to her and she was able to detect the tightening of his jaw. Alright, maybe dubbing him a sourpuss hadn’t been the smartest move, but she couldn’t stop herself. The word described him perfectly. She was convinced that this would be her last shift at The Brewing Pot. Already mourning the loss of yet another job in her head, the man who she (for now) called her boss let his Adam’s apple bop one time and then dropped his head. The conversation had passed.

One hour and an abundance of tense silence later, all 170 cupcakes were iced and placed into the fridge, ready to be delivered first thing Tuesday morning. With one mutter, he dismissed her - opting to clean the kitchen on his own rather than dragging out this miserable encounter.

And with her head held high, but her heart nestled a little bit lower in her chest, she made her exit.

Apparently, the people in charge of the railway system and the trains really did not have any aspirations towards getting on her good side. It was March now, and she had just finished up her first solo closing shift in her three months working there. Spring had yet to peak through the dreary blanket that the Winter had placed upon England. She could not wait to take a hot shower. Would have preferred a bath and a nice cup of tea, but alas, that was a feature her student housing did not provide. Then she’d like to settle down on the couch to watch reruns of sitcoms until it would prove impossible to force her eyes open any longer and then retread to bed.

Much to her dismay, those plans were crossed through by her train home, who had taken it upon himself to leave just about two minutes before schedule. So here she stood, having just missed her last opportunity to get home towards the warmth and comfort her flat could provide her with and with not one place to go. After frantically calling just about every person in her phone book that either lived in a close mile radius or owned a car, she finally decided to seek solace in the confines of The Brewing Pot.

Truth be told, she didn’t really feel all too happy with her decision, but where else was she supposed to go? Catching a cab would’ve cost her an arm and a leg and Adam, who resided outside of Manchester but did own a car, was not even picking up his phone. She believed that her last resort was just settling down on one of the couches of the coffee house and trying to stay conscious throughout the night in order to grab a train home first thing in the morning.

And this plan probably would’ve worked out well enough, had her boss not entered his store after hours and found her lounging around way after she was supposed to actually be present. It seemed to her as though Harry Styles’ baseline state consisted of a mixture of stress and sternness. Norah had once again not caught more than a few mere glimpses of him after their unpleasant icing session. Not that she had minded their lack of interaction this time around.

“What… are you doing here?” She hadn’t expected any other question from him, the confusion apparent on his face this time extremely warranted. And this time, instead of holding it up high Norah lets her head sink a little lower, knowing that she wasn’t really supposed to be here after hours. This time, if he were to get angry and throw her out, she would not be able to hold that decision against him.

She felt stupid. How incapable did it make her seem when she would tell him that on her first closing shift she had managed to miss her way of making it back home? The closing shift itself had actually been kind of enjoyable to her, but would it seem rude for her to mention how she probably would’ve arrived at Piccadilly in time had she not been left to her own devices? The sound of his voice brought her back from the questions piling up inside of her mind while she had stayed silent. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, Mister Styles… I, uhh… My last train back home left a little earlier than expected and Adam isn’t picking up his phone, so… I had nowhere else to go. Was gonna just wait it out until the first one in the morning, but if that’s not alright I completely understand. I should’ve asked for permission.”

It seemed like this flow of words didn’t please him in the slightest. The shaking of his head was a clear indicator for that. On top of that, he let out a loud sigh. “You… You don’t have to call me Mister Styles. Harry is… just fine.” This was definitely not the kind of reply she had expected. For the first time since she’s been aware of his existence, his facial expression softened a tiny amount. “Listen, Norah. I understand that working a closing shift on your own is hard work, but you really can’t just… stay here afterwards without letting me know. It’s unprofessional.”

“No, yeah, I’m fully aware of that. I just… really couldn’t figure out another place to stay and I’ve got this really important presentation tomorrow. Thought that if I came here instead of sticking around at the station I would at least be in a safe place while waiting and might even be able to close my eyes for a second. But you definitely should have been informed.”

This reply seemed to calm his mood. Harry huffed and nodded his head in her direction. “Alright, well… You’re right, it’s better to hang around where it’s safe. Just make sure everything’s locked and the lights are off when you decide to leave.” With those words he ducked into his small office to retrieve whatever had made his trip back to his business necessary.

Relaxing a little bit, Norah leaned back into the sofa and observed the now illuminated doorway through which he had just disappeared. After their encounter she really had not expected him to let her off with a warning, but she was glad that he did. While sitting around The Brewing Pot for a whole night wasn’t what she had envisioned to be doing after work, the alternatives of either wandering around the streets of Manchester or lingering by the train station for multiple hours seemed even less appealing.

A few moments later Harry emerged from the office and let the door fall shut behind him as he closed the distance between him and Norah. “I -“, was as far as he got before he stopped himself to inhale a deep breath. She didn’t say a word. Just waited - admittedly a little (scratch that, a lot) anxious - for whatever he was about to blurt out.

“You were right, you know. I was extremely rude before, when we were working on that order for the Peterson wedding. You were just trying to make harmless conversation. There was no reason for me to blow up the way I did, I’m sorry.”

And if his hands fiddling with the files they were holding while waiting for her to speak up was a sign of his nervousness, well, colour Norah impressed. It wasn’t really the apology that threw her, it was the sincerity in his tone. She had accepted that she would not be able to establish some sort of friendly relationship with her boss, especially after there had not been any repercussions following her name-calling of him. She was grateful for that, at least.

“That’s… alright. Thank you for apologising, but I guess I was also out of line, so…”, was all she was able to come up with in reply. Frankly, there wasn’t much else left to say between the both of them. He had apologised for handling a situation the wrong way and she had admitted that her form of dealing with it could’ve also been improved upon.

Harry looked around his café helplessly before continuing his utterance of what she soon understood to be an invitation. “You said you have a, uhh… a presentation tomorrow? Are you… Do you think you’ll get enough rest staying here?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s quite close to the station and if I take the earliest train I might even be able to make it back in time to shower and go over my notes again. Gonna power through class tomorrow and then catch up on the sleep I’ve missed.”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders - and yes, she’s aware that she really has to stop lusting after him even though he’s behaving (and looking) extremely nice right now - he fixes his gaze on Norah once more. “I just stopped by to pick up these files that I forgot. Don’t live far from here, actually. You’re uhh… You’re welcome to stay in my guest room if you want.” Had she heard him correctly? Or had she already fallen asleep and was just dreaming up crazy scenarios? “At least you’ll get a few hours of sleep that way.”

Really, who was she to say no to the promise of being able to close her eyes for at least a few hours before what was sure to be a gruelling class tomorrow. Norah was also extremely curious to take a peek into his residence (and maybe his mind), even though she wouldn’t want to admit that out loud. Harry waited by the door while she collected her belongings and not too soon after, they started their trek towards his house, accompanied by the biting gusts of cold nocturnal wind.

„You can leave your coat here, if you want.“ Harry‘s house was bigger than she had anticipated, but then again he did mention a guest room which could’ve tipped her off on the fact that his abode was bigger than her measly flat.

The seriousness he displayed during all of their encounters was nowhere to be found. His living room - where she now stood with her hands folded in front of her, waiting for him to return from the kitchen, which he had dipped into - was made up of a set of mismatched patterned couches and the walls were clad in artworks from all different styles that weirdly blended together in perfect cohesion. Plants and books adorned nearly every surface and corner in her line of vision - which made a lot of sense to her, because that was strongly reminiscent of the inside of The Brewing Pot.

Truth be told, she didn’t know what she had expected. Maybe lots of monochrome colours, whites and greys paired with a touch of black, and extremely modern furniture. Not wooden floors, which were scratched up and led her to believe in the presence of a pet in her vicinity (maybe the dog bed next to one of the loveseats tipped her off as well), and cozy, seemingly handmade throw pillows.

It was headache-inducing, really. Trying to figure him out. She was stood in the middle of a room that she would’ve definitely seen him inhabiting the first time she had laid eyes upon him. Before he had opened his mouth and heard the cold tone of his otherwise so deep and rich voice. So, had she pegged him right from the beginning? Was the solemnity a front he put on for strangers and employees or was his living space a remnant of a time and character passed, with Harry simply too lazy to redecorate?

Or was she just reading too much into this altogether?

Her way-too-deep considerations were put to a halt by Harry’s return into the room. “There you go.” In his hand was the biggest glass of water she had ever seen. The fact that she found such a small gesture endearing was enough to let alarm bells ring in Norah’s head. These mushy feelings and musings about his interior and its relation to his state of mind had to stop. She really knew next to nothing about the young man stood in front of her and based on the way their previous interaction had turned out, he most definitely wanted it to stay that way.

Gathering her wits, she accepted the glass filled with water from his outreached hand and took a tentative sip. Once again, Norah found herself in an awkward position that made her throat dry up just a little bit. “Thank you”, was all that erupted from her vocal chords.

Raising his hand to touch his glasses - which she knew for a fact had no need to be rearranged, remembering the way they hadn’t really moved an inch when he bowed his head to focus on the icing of the cupcakes - he spoke up again. “Alright, let me show you the spare room so you can get some sleep.”

#HI LOOK AT ME ATTEMPTING ANOTHER SERIES EVEN THOUGH I HAVE THE SHORTEST ATTENTION SPAN PROBABLY EVER #really hope you guys like this though #harry styles #harry #styles #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles angst #one shots #harry imagine #harry imagines #het fic

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 5 years

Text

Colour Me In Part 3

“Oh that is not good,” Michael cracked up and Calum just glared at him.

“Will you shut up unless you're going to help,” he grumbled fiddling with his bass. Lunch with Eliza had been amazing, and he'd really felt like he was starting to get somewhere with this girl. Kevin's sudden appearance at lunch had him worried.

“Maybe it's better to get it all out now,” Michael tried to sound reassuring.

“Get what out now?” Luke asked, entering the room trailed by Ashton.

“His new girl's best friend is gonna tattle on him before he gets a chance to get it,” Michael told them.

“Wait I thought you weren't talking to Nat?” Luke asked slightly confused.

“No, dummy, the deaf girl, Eliza.” Ashton poked Luke in the side to get him out of his way. “I thought you guys were having lunch today?”

“We did,” Calum told him, “but her closest guy friend, Kevin,” Cal made a face when he said the name, “came out of nowhere and told her I looked familiar. So when I ask her where he works she says he's a model and works the door at Emerald City.”

The guys laugh but Calum cuts them off “and The Chelsea,” the guys stopped laughing, “and Lucky's,” Calum finished.

“Ooooh that fucking sucks dude,” Luke sat down facing him.

“Of all places though, I don't think there's a girl in that bar that hasn't seen your dick at some point,” Ashton laughed.

“You're one to fucking talk,” Calum huffed, “you're worse than me. Didn't you have Cass over last weekend?”

“I did actually, she says hi by the way, keeps joking about wanting a threesome with both of us,” Ashton chuckled.

“She's not joking,” Calum shot back raising his eyebrows.

“Okay so Cass, Kimmie, Jen…” Luke started naming names.

“Hollie and Haley,” Michael chimed in.

“…Alanna, Charlotte, Jay, and most currently Natasha….so yea Calum is a straight up fuckboy.”

Kevin leaned towards Eliza, nodding his head furiously as he signed with quick dramatic gestures.

Eliza, sitting across from him on the couch, threw up her hands in exasperation at the way Kevin was so concerned for her well being over Calum. He'd insisted on her coming over after work so they could talk.

“Did you think I didn't know that? He's in a band. I work for a publicist. Laura, my co-worker even had a thing with his friend Ashton. You and Mags act like I've never encountered fuckboys before. Besides have you seen Calum? I'm trying to have some fun here.” Eliza’s hands were tense as she signed slowly and deliberately, her face a mask of sarcasm.

Kevin laughed and rolled his eyes setting his phone down so he could look at her while they talked.

“Listen,” he signed,” I just don't want you to get hurt. None of the girls had anything bad to say about him except, the second you fall for him Calum lets you down gently, but he does not stick around.”

“KV, you know I don't have time for a boyfriend. My job is crazy. My personal project, Mr Zachary James, is a little shit who won't stay out of trouble, and my boss is terrifying. I know I'm not as experienced as you, or Calum,” Eliza smirked at him and Kevin flipped her off. “The guys I've dated have been boring or turned out to be assholes. I want an adventure, is that so wrong?”

Kevin rolled his eyes, “This is pointless, all the women in your family are stubborn as hell. Just be careful. I do think it's cute he's learning to sign. How much you wanna bet that's your sister?” He signed as both their phones buzzed.

Open Group Chat

Mags the Mighty Okay today has been insanely busy. I know you two are huddled up discussing lunch with Rock Star. What's the consensus?

Maggie sat back and waited knowing both of them were desperately trying to be first.

King KVN so you already know your sister is impossible, but I found out dog boy has been getting it with all the models, thots, and bad bitches that work at Lucky's and The Chelsea. This bitch doesn't care because she's thirsty. I'm trying to talk some sense into her.

Big EZ basically everything he said is true, but he has to be extra about it. From here on out every time you call him dog boy I will scuff one of your sneakers.

Mags the Mighty so wait you're okay with Calum fucking around like that? I mean he's hot and for a vacation hookup or weekend hookup sure. He's taking you on dates, asking about your family, and even signing… Maybe he likes you.

Big EZ I don't have time for any of that Mags. Besides look at Patrick and Miguel it's not like I've got a great track record

King KVN those dipshits weren't your fault and I will not tolerate my best friend putting herself down. Miguel was too insecure to handle a woman as smart and beautiful as you and he cheated to compensate. That's on him not you. Patrick is a sad little man with a sad little dick who tries to slide into your DMs WEEKLY even though he's supposedly happy with his girlfriend.

Mags the Mighty You're so extra Kev. we are not here to discuss Eliza's dismal history with men. Besides that was high school and we're all trying to pretend that never happened. When do we get to hang out with rock stars?

BIG EZ I haven't heard from him since lunch. He got all weird after Kev popped up. If you messed this up for me. I swear I will maim you.

Just then Eliza's boss interrupted their conversation with a flurry of text messages. Another client, country music party girl Shelby Keeler, had just been arrested in Texas in a bar fight, and TMZ had footage. Evie already had Maria Reynolds, the only person helping her with the nightmare that was Zachary James, on a plane to Houston to do damage control.

Not only that but his ex girlfriend, model and heiress Daisy Moss, was rumored to be hanging back around. Zachary was smart enough to try and keep this from Eliza and Jeanette, his manager, as their drug fueled bust up in a hotel suite had almost destroyed his career and cost him most of his sponsors.

Zac had been a child actor and teen pop star before washing out at 17. A couple years after that he'd built a following on YouTube with a series of videos documenting his failed comeback attempt, his struggles with mental health, and life post fame. He showed how he cared for his mom who was deaf and had a bad back from a car accident. His sister was in and out of his life as she bounced between rehab and addiction.

He'd developed his YouTube channel as a launch pad for phase 2 of his career getting a reality show on E that was entering its fifth season. However, two years ago he'd met Daisy, and since then his life had been chaos.

Eliza sighed, annoyed that her weekend was now going to be spent worried at the prospect of all her hard work with Zac going to shit. She realized when she finally got home she still hadn't heard from Calum since they'd parted ways after lunch. That was unusual but it was the weekend and Calum was probably at some bar with one of his girls. Eliza was stunned how pissed off the idea of Calum hitting on another woman made her.

Calum didn't know what to do. He wanted to text Eliza and somehow explain himself, but there was nothing to say. Everything Kevin could tell her was true, and for the first time in a long time Calum felt a bit ashamed of his behavior. Not out of regret or a sense of morality, he hated how it looked and what it might cost him. He declined to go out that night, and instead huddled up in his apartment with Duke.

Calum pouted the entire weekend. He didn't leave the house or talk to anyone for two days. Instead he ordered takeout, worked on a song, or watched videos on his laptop. He checked Eliza's Twitter and Insta but there were no posts. He even checked Zachary James’ accounts to see if work was keeping her busy, but found nothing.

Eliza spent the entire weekend with Jeanette keeping an eye on Zac. Daisy was back around and had even come by the house a couple times. Luckily he was ignoring his ex, for now, but between him whining about his failed relationship, and Jeanette bitching about Zac, Eliza was irritated for 48 hours, and it gave her a headache. By Monday morning she was in a terrible mood and took part of the morning off to spend some time with Oliver. They went to Marian's because lemon bars always lifted her spirits.

She saw Calum pulling out of the parking lot as she started to turn in. Eliza thought he saw her, but then he was gone. After placing her order and settling into a table on the patio she found herself distracted, glancing at the entrance hoping to see him walk in. Finally she'd had enough, Eliza wasn't going to let Calum ghost her without calling him on his bullshit.

Haven't heard from you since Friday, makes me wonder if Kevin frightened you off. I gotta admit, I'm disappointed, didn't think you'd scare that easily. I thought you were tougher than that.

She hit send and immediately wanted to take it back. She sent Kevin a screenshot of what she'd done and to her surprise he was awake and answered back.

Yaaasssssss, tell him about himself. I will say this tho… Your boy was nowhere to be seen this weekend. All his boys came out to Lucky's Saturday night, and I know for a fact both Haley and Nat hit him up this weekend. No one's heard anything.

He could always have girls you don't know about.

Stop that, we all know I know everything

Eliza stopped laughing when Calum’s name popped up

I'm an ass. I knew what Kevin would tell you, and it's all true, I can't deny that. I figured you'd be done so I just didn't feel like talking to anyone this weekend. I stayed home and worked on some songs.

Do you really think I was that shocked? You're in a band, you're young, and hot. You had a hickey when we met up at the dog park. I may not be very experienced, but I'm not some sheltered, naive, stupid little deaf girl.

Okay okay I'm sorry, I should have texted you. It looked bad, but I never ever thought you were naive or stupid. I think you're smart, funny, and charming. I thought a woman as classy as you could do better than someone with my history. Let me take you on a proper date. We can even be chaperoned.

What are you even talking about? Chaperoned?

Yes, let me take you out to dinner and Oliver and Duke can come along and make sure I behave like a gentleman.

You're playing the Duke card, that's completely unfair.

Tomorrow night? I can pick you guys up.

Tomorrow is fine. Tell me the time and place and I'll meet you there. I’m not ready to have you meet my mother.

Eliza realized she was holding her breath and exhaled suddenly very nervous. Her first real date with Calum, and he was determined to treat her like a lady. She wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. What she was sure of is that she needed to figure out what to wear. She texted Maggie and Kevin and headed to work.

Eliza glanced back at Oliver in the back seat as she put the car into park. The little dude was smiley and wagging his tail although a bit apprehensive by the unfamiliar surroundings. Eliza has been thrilled when Calum told her he wanted to try Mohawk Bend, it was her sister's favorite pizza place and very dog friendly. The hostess waved to Eliza and Oliver doing a bit of a double take.

Kevin had outdone himself with her outfit tonight. He'd put her in black leggings and her black push up bra that made her boobs look huge. He then wrapped a tan cashmere scarf around her chest, hiding her cleavage so her mom wouldn't bitch. Over that he'd layered a burgundy lightweight dress, that was actually a swimsuit cover-up, using one of his belts to turn it into a cute tunic. They'd decided on simple makeup with a dark burgundy lip, black motorcycle boots and a careful application of gold highlighter to her face, body, and hair to complete the look. Her hair was in a loose Grecian braid with gold wire wrapped throughout helping tame her curls.

Calum saw Eliza walk up to the podium and show the hostess his text message about already having a table. She looked amazing without trying too hard. He'd promised to behave like a gentleman, but as his eyes took in her curves as she walked up the table, his thoughts turned carnal. Oliver and Duke greeted each other like long lost friends. Eliza smiled at him and his mind went blank. He grabbed his phone.

I had this really cool plan to impress you with some new signs I learned this weekend, but I'm too nervous to remember any of them.

Eliza wanted to scoff at the idea of Calum Hood being nervous around any woman, but despite looking insanely handsome in his all black t shirt and jeans combo, he was fidgety and sweating.

He let her decide what to order so they could share. She chose the white mushroom pizza and fish tacos to split.

They played with the dogs while they waited for the food to arrive. When it did they took turns going to wash their hands and Eliza couldn't help but notice Calum left his phone on the table when he got up.

Dinner was lovely. They went through extra napkins as they kept getting sauce everywhere. Calum fed her tacos, she wiped sauce off his chin. They kept laughing at jokes no one else got with Oliver and Duke dozing snuggled together under the table. Calum heard an older couple making comments about them being on their phones.

How do you sign mind your own business?

Eliza looked up at him and he shot a quick glance at the older fellow giving them a sour look.

She looked back at Calum signing

“Mind your own business?” he asked out loud as his hands mirrored hers. She nodded and Calum heard the guy mutter “How was I supposed to know.”

Calum insisted Eliza take the rest of the pizza home to Maggie, paid the check with a generous tip, and walked them to her car. Standing next to her car they stood there texting, neither of them quite ready to see the night end or push it further.

Until a text from Evie broke the spell and Eliza needed to go.

Calum held up a hand mouthing “wait, wait” and sent another text.

I remember one of the things I learned now

Eliza looked up and Calum raised his eyebrows and signed “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded and reached up resting her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards her as he lowered his lips to hers.

They both melted into the kiss, lips parting, tongues colliding and his hand gripping her hip pulling her closer. Eliza felt him get hard and she pushed her body against him. Calum broke the kiss, panting and looking at her with nothing but lust in his eyes. Eliza wanted him to keep going but he shook his head.

I don't want you to think you're just another girl.

He signed “good night, I'll text you,” before giving her another quick kiss and picking Duke up so he could say his goodbyes.

@wildhearthood @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @cal-puddies @biba3434 @grittyisathot @angelbabylu @itstheholls @irwinkitten @5sos-ficssmut @cal-pal-cuddles @calumh-excess @1dthewantedlove @you-of-ghost @babygirlcashton @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @calteahood @the-fifth-season @kchillout @flannelpunkcalum @unabashedlymyself @5-secondsofcolor

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that-curly-haired-lesbian · 5 years

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The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo + Taylor Swift: a master post - Part 2/6

Hi guys, welcome to part 2 of my masterpost regarding parallels between Taylor Swift and Evelyn Hugo, the fictional actress from the book The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo by author Taylor Jenkins Reid!

Before proceeding please be aware that there will be

**MAJOR SPOILERS**

for the book ahead and please also read my disclaimer!

It’s very important that you read these in order so if you haven’t yet go ahead and check out the previous part right here, thank you and enjoy!

Monique goes home for the weekend consumed by the question “who the hell was Evelyn Hugo in love with?” This goes to the point that she finds herself no longer dwelling on her own relationship problems, but instead focuses on Evelyn’s love life for the whole weekend. (pg. 37)

This of course is similar to how Taylor’s fans and media instead of relating songs to their own love lives and experiences or writing about the quality of the music are obsessed with finding out who in her life she wrote the songs about. (x)

Essentially Taylor’s stories substitute or overpower fans’ own love lives and her love life overshadows whatever could be written about her in a professional sense…Apparently??

Similarly instead of wanting to ask Evelyn something regarding her remarkable career (or her childhood, or what have you) Monique finds herself immediately drawn to (both as a journalist and a consumer, she’s sure to point out, just like how both the fans and the media are drawn to this aspect of Taylor’s public persona) asking about the men in Evelyn’s life, which is frankly, a very sexist angle to take.

When it comes to Taylor fans and media seem especially interested in (or unable to let go of) Taylor’s “relationship” with Harry Styles and likewise Monique’s best guess for who the love of Evelyn’s life could be is the appropriately named Hollywood producer Harry Cameron aka beard/husband #5. A man who we later find out (pg. 72-73) is not only very flamboyantly gay, but also Evelyn’s best friend and closest confidant, the friend who she trusts to tell everything without fearing it might get out.

At her second wedding Evelyn and Harry have an interesting conversation, Evelyn asks Harry why he’s never tried to flirt with her (like most men she encounters in the industry has after all.) He asks Evelyn if she ever wanted anything to happen between them (since she’s the one asking him about this) she says no, but Harry catches onto the fact that Evelyn wanted him to want something to happen and she offers:

“’And what if I did? Is that so wrong? I’m an actress, Harry. Don’t you forget that.’ Harry laughed, ’you have actress written all over your face. I remember it every single day.’ ” (pg. 72)

In response to why nothing has ever happened between the two Harry vaguely implies that he’s gay and Evelyn immediately gets it, but says nothing about it until years later when Harry is the first person she comes out to after realizing her own queerness. After which the two agree to always tell each other everything.

Harry’s vague coming out at the wedding is however not what interests me about that scene, instead it is the use of the word “actress” of course in Evelyn’s case this is literal, she is in fact an actress, but it’s Harry’s response that causes me to reach…

On the surface his comment seems to be him admitting that despite his preference for men he can see that Evelyn is an attractive woman (like actresses generally are), but if we are to put this in a different light let’s consider that Taylor often either uses the word “actress” in her songs:

She's not a saint and she's not what you think She's an actress

I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

or implies that she’s playing a role a few examples being All of Blank Space, and I Did Something Bad and parts of Don’t Blame Me.

I’ve gone on record in my analysis of the song Better Than Revenge as saying that the acting theme may be a reference to bearding and if we are also to look at the fact that Harry comes out to Evelyn in this scene it reads to me as if the underlying subtext is someone who beards (like Taylor) asking a gay male friend why they have never bearded together despite this friend’s knowledge that this Someone (Taylor) beards a lot (or is an “actress”) the friend agrees that he knows she is indeed a prolific bearder and that anyone with eyes can see she’s gay (the fact that she is gay and beards, or “is an actress” if you will, is “written on her face”.)

This might seem like an extreme reach even for this context, but given the fact that Evelyn and Harry actually end up bearding together later in the book and Evelyn does mention shortly before this conversation with Harry takes place that she sometimes feels like her public persona is someone she’s pretending to be (aka a role she’s playing, just like Taylor implies she feels about her public persona in the songs mentioned above.) I just found the conversation and Taylor’s bearding-connection to the word “actress” interesting in this context…

On Monday Evelyn tells Monique:

“People have so closely followed the most intricate details of the fake story of my life. But it’s not…I don’t…I want them to know the real story. The real me.’” (pg. 38)

Similar to how Taylor told us:

“We think we know someone, but the truth is that we only know the version of them they have chosen to show us.”

“When this album comes out, gossip blogs will scour the lyrics for the men they can attribute to each song, as if the inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test. There will be slideshows of photos backing up each incorrect theory” (x)

Monique responds:

“’Alright, show me the real you then and I’ll make sure the world understands.’”

Like I said before people like Evelyn and Taylor are famous enough that this flies, they call the shots. Just like we are agreeing that Taylor is coming out in her own time, Monique agrees to listen to whatever Evelyn has decided she has to say. Meanwhile we’ll keep speculating and so does Monique.

At one point she even questions if Evelyn is capable of telling the truth after all those years of hiding it? (pg. 38)

I’ve personally had more than one anon questioning why Taylor keeps “lying” about her personal life and whether she’ll be able to ever stop and just come out? (For my thoughts on all that, please read this.)

As Monique agrees to Evelyn’s terms she’s put in a bit of a bind, given that Evelyn contacted her through Vivant when the story was truly never intended for the magazine but for Monique this basically means that one of their writers is about to steal a story from one of the most famous magazines in the world and she could of course be fired for this. With a sinking stomach Monique realizes that the only plan she has is to lie to her boss about how the story is going and act as if she’s still doing the original piece for Vivant in order to save her own career. (pg. 32)

She even points out later that being fired from Vivant for stealing a story would be disastrous for her reputation in the industry. (142)

I imagine that Monique’s confusion about what to do with Vivant mirrors a young Taylor’s initial unwillingness to “lie” to us (the public and the fans) regarding her sexuality at risk of losing her contract with a label.

Being let go from a contract and a label for making her sexuality publicly known would’ve been disastrous for her reputation in the industry and probably harm her chances at ever being mainstream famous/get on the radio. Had she gone against the advice she was getting at the time and made her sexuality public knowledge/decided to sing about girls or whatever she could’ve lost her career, her job.

In Monique’s case she would literally be fired form a job, in Taylor’s case it’d be more in the sense of falling from grace in the court of public opinion, or being left out of the community in Nashville. Something that country singer Chely Wright has mentioned was a legitimate fear for her upon coming out. (x)

When Frankie does find out what’s going on this is what happens:

“’She used us to get to us?’ Frankie says as if it’s the most insulting thing she can think of. But the thing is she used me to get to Evelyn, so…” (pg. 142)

This scene is yet another reminder that it’s all power play, a game and lowkey blackmail in the entertainment industry and that everybody does it, even the media.

…Baby let the games begin

And so Evelyn’s story starts once and for all. She tells us how she wanted to run away from her abusive father after her mother died and how she at fourteen romanticized Hollywood and believed her life would get better if she could only get there:

“It would take me years to figure out that life doesn’t get easier simply because it gets more glamorous. But you couldn’t have told me that when I was fourteen.”

New to town with a made up name in the angel's city,

Chasing fortune and fame.

And the camera flashes, make it look like a dream

You had it figured out since you were in school.

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen

14* but close enough, right? What I’m saying is, major Lucky One/Fifteen mashup vibes…

Evelyn does eventually get to Hollywood, by seducing a dude named Ernie who is a light technician on movie sets, she doesn’t love him and she lies about her age (she says she’s 16 when she truly is 14) but she gets a ride to Hollywood as she puts it, out of their marriage (pg. 44)

Having arrived in The City of Angels Evelyn does what she has to in order to launch her career and that included doing something rather bold for such a young, inexperienced actress:

“I did something not many other actresses at my level would have had the guts to do, I knocked at Harry Cameron’s door.” (Pg. 47)

This of course reminded me of:

“Hi, I'm Taylor. I'm 11; I want a record deal. Call me.” (x)

At this point in the book Evelyn is 16 or 17 and not yet explicitly queer, so that isn’t what Harry (here representing the movie/music industry) points out they have to “get rid of” when it comes to Evelyn’s image if she wants to make it. Instead, when Evelyn does get her audience with Harry Cameron she’s immediately told she has to get a more American-sounding name (her maiden name was Herrera, and now being married to Ernie her name is Diaz which in the industry’s eyes isn’t much better) and dye her hair blonde.

Instead of her queerness it’s her Hispanic heritage that has to go, in Taylor’s case however, it was of course the queerness, even in the early days. Moving to Nashville at 14 (just like Evelyn and Hollywood) Taylor signed with Big Machine Records at 16 and after seemingly previously being out she was back in the closet by the time her first album was being recorded.

To begin with Ernie is supportive of Evelyn’s attempts to make it in acting, but eventually he gets resentful when she doesn’t wanna be a house wife or give him children. This understandably frustrates Evelyn:

“I’d told him I was someone else. And then I started getting angry that he couldn’t see who I really was.” (pg. 47)

Of course I wouldn’t truly know, but I don’t think Taylor has ever used someone as a beard/for PR without their consent the way that Evelyn does to Ernie here, but if it is to be claimed that Taylor Swift did what she had to get her career off the ground then the obvious example of this would be her closeting, she told us she was someone else (with the aggressive heterosexuality of The Old Taylor™) she thought the closeting was a price worth paying for the professional success, at first…and then it started to frustrate her that she couldn’t be open to us about who she really is.

Just like Taylor though, Evelyn is all too happy to agree to the studio’s bigoted terms if it means she’ll get to be an actress, so she agrees:

“And in so doing I set the star machine in motion.” (Pg. 50)

Hmm, interesting choice of words, Evelyn…

As Evelyn’s image is starting to take shape Harry introduces her to the concept of bearding or in this case, since she hasn’t realized she’s queer yet, “dating” for publicity:

“The studio thinks it would be a good idea if you were seen around town with some guys…*proceeds to list various fictional male celebrities*” (Pg. 52)

So Evelyn Swiftly (pun intended) divorces Ernie and starts being seen around town with fellas of New Hollywood™

Here she shares her thoughts on those early days of bearding:

“I was OK with it for it for two reasons. One I had no choice but to be all right with it because I didn’t hold the cards. And two, my star was rising. Fast.” (Pg. 60) (x) (x)

“Don and I had been seen around town, our photos taken at every hot spot in Hollywood. … And we knew what we were doing, parading around in public. I needed Don’s name mentioned in the same sentence as mine, and Don needed us to look like he was part of the New Hollywood. Photos of the two of us went a long way toward solidifying his image as a man-about-town.” (Pg. 68)

Bearding 101…

It’s not just bright sides to the bearding and PR though, on page 56 Monique calls Evelyn “calculating” that word (or a less kind option, “manipulative”) is often thrown around by both media and antis when describing Taylor both in her professional life and in her love life…. (x) (x) (x)

There are also dark sides to not just the bearding but to fame and Hollywood itself as we’ll soon find out.

At this point in Evelyn’s story she has genuinely fallen in love with one of her PR boyfriends (she’s bi and don’t you forget that) and so they decide to get married and at first Evelyn’s second marriage is going swimmingly (again, pun):

“We had pool parties nearly every weekend, drinking champagne and cocktails all afternoon and into the night.” (Pg. 74)

*TIWWCHNT plays loudly in background*

However sadly Evelyn is about to learn just why they can’t have nice things, it turns out her new husband Don is both physically and emotionally abusive and it doesn’t take long for him to start regularly hitting her and this ruins the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

“I’d made my way three thousand miles from where I was born, I had found a way to be in the right place at the right time. I had changed my name. changed my hair. Changed my teeth and my body. I’d learned how to act. I’d made the right friends. I’d married into a famous family. Most of America knew my name. and yet…And yet.” (Pg. 78)

And they tell you that you’re lucky.

But you’re so confused,

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used.

“I got up off the floor and wiped my eyes. I gathered myself. I sat down at the vanity, three mirrors in front of me lined with lightbulbs. How silly is it that I thought that if I ever found myself in a movie star’s dressing room that meant I’d have no troubles?” (Pg. 78)

The same sadly seems to go for a singer’s dressing room I’m afraid…

Just like in Taylor’s case it’s not just Evelyn’s personal life that gets affected by various PR strategies though, her career does too. Ever since Evelyn heard that the studio was planning to adapt Little Women she’s been pushing to get cast as Jo and Harry is saying she will get that role, if she agrees to doing a few more run of the mill movies alongside her famous boyfriend. Evelyn all but rolls her eyes and asks Harry if he’s saying she should be predictable in her career choices, Harry denies this:

“I’m saying you should be predictable and then do something unpredictable, and they’ll love you forever” (Pg. 67)

This strikes me as very similar to what Taylor did in her transition from country to pop, she put out three full-on country album and then came RED and Taylor famously said that album isn’t “sonically cohesive” why? Well, it straddles the line between the two genres, but not enough to make anyone uncomfortable, it’s still country, she’s still being “predictable” and THEN she dropped 1989 her first 100% pop album and just as Ha-I mean Big Machine probably predicted, we loved her forever!

Evelyn agrees to not doing Little Women right away and admits she didn’t have much choice in the matter:

“My contract with Sunset was for another three years if I caused too much trouble, they had the option to drop me at any time.” (Pg. 67)

While I fully believe that Taylor is in charge of her PR these days we cannot forget that she was a minor when all this started and back then I think she let “the adults” handle her PR, she would do whatever they thought was best as long as it’d get her on the radio long-term, including staying closeted. However, now that the contract with her old label is up and the Rep tour has basically been one giant glass closeting event we’ll see what’s to come in terms of bold PR moves.

When she finally gets to do pop Little Women Taylor Swift Evelyn Hugo meets Karlie Kloss Celia St. James. Celia is an actress too and they become fast friends complete with Celia calling Evelyn out on her bullshit over milkshakes:

“So many women around here are full of crap in everything they say and do. I like that you’re full of crap only when it gets you something.” (Pg. 97)

Just like Taylor Evelyn is genuine…for the most part and Karlie and Celia know this.

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

You must like me for me

Both Evelyn and Celia realize that Celia is a better actress than Evelyn while Evelyn is better at playing the PR game than Celia, so the two agree as their friendship blossoms to teach each other what the other knows better.

Evelyn says about Celia:

“She did teach me to find moments of emotional truth in false circumstances.” (Pg. 101)

This is of course in regards to acting, but it made me think of what Taylor’s early girlfriends and her exposure to PR games and bearding must have taught her, to find moments of emotional truth in false circumstances. That’s how she can write and sing songs with the wrong (male) pronoun and make it seem so genuine, she projects the feelings she has for the women she dates onto these wrong pronoun, it’s like I pointed out before, to some degree Taylor has always told the truth about her own emotions, even when she’s hid them behind male pronoun and false heterosexuality the emotion has been real all along. Moments of truth in false circumstances.

Even genuine friendship can be played up for PR in the world of celebrity and when Evelyn has to deal with some bad publicity Harry suggests using a shopping spree with Celia to get Evelyn back in the tabloids’ good graces.

It has been speculated over the years among Kaylors and non-Kaylors alike that parts of Kaylor’s 2014 glass closeting could have been played up to “get Karlie’s name out there.” Even genuine friends (or girl pals) call the paps from time to time, but in this case Harry’s suggestion that they could “call Photoplay and let them know Evelyn and Celia will be on Robertson” is shot down by a scheming Evelyn with a better idea, she is going to fake a miscarriage to get some sympathy and make the press eat their words about her “not giving Don a baby.” (Pg. 102-104)

“’How did you learn all the underhanded, sneaky stuff you know?’ Celia asked. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ I said coyly. ‘You’re smarter than you let on to just about anybody.’ ‘Me?’ I said.” (Pg. 109)

We play dumb but we know exactly what we're doing

Taylor is smart, she knows just how to play the game. See: Blank Space.

Similarity Evelyn has learnt the industry by now, she manufactures her own scandals, playing with her own narrative for professional benefit.(x)

One night when Don is away somewhere (probably in the club doing I don’t know what) Celia comes over to Evelyn’s and they drink some wine…As you can probably tell it’s about to be gay up in here! Celia calls Evelyn the most gorgeous woman to have ever been created and Evelyn immediately counters, saying Celia is a KNOCKOUT with her BIG BLUE EYES

(Karlie’s eyes do look blue in some lights…See: “Oh damn, never seen that color blue”)

The night continues and as it gets chilly the girls decide to make a fire…Yes, seriously: “I asked her if she knew how to make a fire. ‘I’ve seen people do it,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Me too, I’ve seen Don do it. But I’ve never done it.’ ‘We can do it,’ she said. ‘We can do anything.’” (Pg. 109)

(s)he built a fire just to keep me warm

What follows is all from page 111-112:

As the night progresses Celia spills some wine on herself and has to borrow a clean shirt from Evelyn, they go into the bedroom and Celia decides that now is the right time to get personal. She asks Evelyn if she loves Don, Evelyn is caught off guard and finds herself answering that she used to love him but doesn’t think she does anymore. Celia asks if it’s all for publicity and when Evelyn denies this Celia asks if she’s sexually attracted to Don (and by extension, men in general) Evelyn says yes, Celia is jealous and uncomfortable and she seems to feel she’s said or asked too much. The scene that plays out embodies:

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)

Is it cool that I said all that

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Just like these lines from Taylor’s song could (in my opinion at least) represent sneakily trying to find out if your new crush is gay too and worrying that the questions will make them uncomfortable as the subject is delicate. Celia’s awkward question seem to really be her trying to ask Evelyn if it’s cool that she thinks of her in a gay way and that she talks about that fact?

The word delicate even shows up in the scene when Evelyn describes Celia as being more delicate than her when trying to find a clean shirt that might fit.

Finally she does find a shirt and hands it over to Celia who comments on how gorgeous it is, Evelyn agrees and confesses she stole it from the set of one of her movies and asks Celia not to tell anyone. As she takes off the soiled shirt Celia says:

“I hope you know by now that all your secrets are safe with me?”

Evelyn comments on how she’s sure that line was something Celia said casually, but that it meant a lot to her nonetheless. Because as Celia said it Evelyn realized she believed her and she’d never had that with anyone.

“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is ‘You’re safe with me’ — that’s intimacy.”

Secrets and truth (and intimacy) are, of course a huge theme on Reputation:

1. “No one has to know” (…Ready For It?)

2. You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks, so here's the truth from my red lips (End Game)

3. But when you get me alone, it's so simple/ But when I get you alone, it's so simple (So It Goes…)

4. “Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep” (King of My Heart)

5. “I loved you in secret” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied

6. “Our secret moments in a crowded room” (Dress)

7. “Even in my worst lie you saw the truth in me” (Dress)

“I wondered if this was what it felt like to love someone? […] To throw your lot in with theirs and think, ‘whatever happens, it’s you and me’”

Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared And you're turning away I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong Or we're making mistakes”

Celia goes to put on the shirt and says that she’s not sure it will fit her, Evelyn says that if it does fit Celia can have it.

Other people we know share/wear a lot of similar clothes too.

Just as Celia gets her own shirt off and Evelyn starts checking her out (spoiler alert: it’s really gay) Don enters the room and teasingly asks just “what is going on in here?” Just like that the spell is broken and Evelyn hurriedly assures her husband that “Absolutely nothing” is going on in that bedroom.

Here Don represents the shippers and the media alike starting to question the nature of Kaylor’s relationship during the height of their glass closeting forcing Taylor to assure “Don” aka us that “absolutely nothing” is going on between her and Karlie, but I’m getting ahead of myself, more on #Kissgate later…

Anygayyyy, let’s just say that those two pages are, as they say A LOT™ for my Kaylor feels!!

Thanks for reading, please read part 3!

#tshoeh #tshoeh spoilers #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #gaylor swift #kaylor #masterpost

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thelouisianauproar · 6 years

Text

The Louisiana Uproar - Pilot Chapter

Summary: A Black Mob battle with the Haitians leads Dottie to make new allies; Lincoln comes home from the war.

New Bordeaux, Louisiana 1968.

There’s something about this town. Amongst the tourists, loud music, and fireworks----there is something deeply sinister. I can feel it in the humid air, but I can’t put my finger on it. I have been in New Bordeaux for years, now. I attended Brandt University after it opened its doors to select “talented and gifted” colored people. That’s me, Dorothy Vera Jetson, talented and gifted.

Frisco Fields, where Brandt is located, doesn’t allow colored people to do many activities. Instead, I found my fun in the Del Ray Hollow. A convivial area for black people, and cheap place to live. Headed by Sammy Robinson, the Del Ray Hollow is the only place in seven years where I have truly felt safe. Granted, I had only found the district right after sophomore year. At Brandt, when you’re colored, it’s hard to find people who will speak to you. One day, I met a young woman who brought me to the Hollow after a school day.

After graduation, I worked as a waitress at “Perla’s NightClub” until Sammy referred me for a secretary position in River Row. That is what a Master’s Degree in Finance at Brandt University got me---a job as a secretary. At least it paid better than waitressing, and I could tell my father that I had a desk job.

“Mr. Stanfield?” I stood at the doorway of my bosses office.

“Dottie.” My boss, Rick Stanfield, greets me. Rick Stanfield is a southern “gentleman”, who worships Remy Duvall, and acts as if he is too good for working at the dock union. I can’t stand him.

“I was just about to leave. Do you need anything further?” He looks hot. He always does. His tie is pulled down and his underarms are sweating.

“You seen Vito?”

“No. I-” “Good.” He gives me some papers. “Go back to your desk and wait for him to arrive. He will be here. Tell him that I am taking care of the problem.” Rick says, and he starts rushing out. “He will be here.”

It gets later and I figure that I will have to call a taxi to get home, as the last bus is about to arrive. Though I have never had a conversation with Mr. Vittorio Scaletta, I know who he is. He is Rick’s boss, he has a unique Empire Bay accent. We’ve only passed each other as he’s gone to Rick’s office.

“Need a light?” One of the dock workers asked me. I stepped outside to get some fresh air, and have a cigarette. “Oh, thank you.” There are some dock workers that I regularly interact with, most of them don’t speak with me. There are black men having a cigarette.

“Are you leaving?” I notice that they have an accent, like Sammy. It makes me a bit uneasy. Sammy has been having issues with the Haitians, in the Hollow, it’s just recently gotten violent.

“For the day, yes.” I let out a puff. “Did you need something?”

The two men look at each other. In fact, it’s ominous how they look at each other. I get a bad feeling so I take a step back. It’s like something out of a movie, they just seem different now.

“Excuse me.” I drop the cigarette, I can’t bother to smush it. Instead, I reach for the front door, and feel myself being grabbed.

It’s like I am dreaming. One man has me lifted by my shins, the other has me under my shoulders. I’m willing to try anything, to scream, beg for my life. They open the door and take me inside the office.

“Please! Please! Stop! Let me go!” It feels so hopeless to try to push at them---when I attack one, the other holds me down. The first man has hunched me face forward into a desk, I’m not sure whose. Due to my disadvantage, it’s unknown what the second man is doing. I know, however, that they find this treatment amusing. Both of them grab my shoulders and force me into the supply closet.

“Hey!” Someone says. The two men turn their attention to whatever is around them. That is my opportunity to break away. I use my shoulder to rush into the closet door. The first time doesn’t work, so I try again.

“What’s going on here, fellas?”

It’s silent. I rear myself back and slam into the door again. It’s much easier to open, this time. I think someone was trying to open the door for me. In any case, I crash on the floor of the office. Now I see in addition to my two attackers, there are two other men. It’s Mr. Vito Scaletta and someone else, I have never met.

I crawl from between the stand off between the four men. Mr Scaletta extends his hand to yank me to my feet. “You alright?” I can’t answer. The man with Mr. Scaletta lunges and slams one of the men’s head into the wall. I let out a scream. My attacker sinks down the wall and he’s leaving a blood stain.

I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to be here. It’s too much violence. My wrist wiggles out of Mr. Scaletta’s grip and I simply fade away from it. Without another word, I grabbed my purse and left the office. On the way to the bus stop, I adjusted my clothing. Right on time, the final bus appears to take me to the Hollow.

---

The next morning, I decided to be near people that I could trust. I walked from my apartment unit to Sammy’s Bar. In addition to my work as a secretary, Sammy Robinson uses me as a statistician for the lottery racket.

“Dottie.” Ellis greets me at the bar. He touches me, from behind, on my shoulders. It makes me jump.

“Sorry!”

“You alright?” “Yes, I-.” I adjust my dress. “I’ve had an interesting few days.”

“Oh.” He gives me a skeptical look. “What happened?” “Oh, you know. River Row.” I flick my wrist. I realize that I am not helping my own case. “What’s going on, Ellis?” Ellis shakes his head and decides to continue speaking with me.

“Pops is gonna be over the moon when you see him. We got a letter from Lincoln, this morning.” His adopted brother, Lincoln. He went into the war, just as I discovered the Hollow. Sammy and Ellis talk about him all the time. “Looks like he’ll be coming home in a little while.” “That’s great!” I am truly happy for him. Ellis goes to hug me and I move. “I’m sorry, Ellis.”

“Now, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“Ellis.” I let out a breath, and rub the back of my neck. “The other night when I was getting off of work, I was harmed. They just locked me in a closet.” “Who?” He’s instantly alarmed. “It’s over.”

“Who did it?” “I don’t know...I mean I think they were Haitian. The dock...man...Vito Scaletta handled it.”

Our conversation was interrupted by Sammy coming into the bar. I give Ellis a look, he needs to not say anything. I don’t want Sammy to think that anything is wrong. He’s been having a hard time with the Haitian mob, recently, I don’t want to add to it. Ellis’ body language tells me that he won’t.

“Dottie! Great news.”

“Ellis was just telling me about your son.” I walk to him with a smile, and open my arms for a hug. I have to force myself to hug him. I feel so dirty.

---

I can’t stop thinking about that scary incident. I did return to the office, Monday morning. What else was I going to do? Mr. Stanfield would love to fire me, and I can’t give him a reason to.

“Dot.” Someone simply saying my name makes me jump. I look up at Rick. “The boss wants to see you outside.” Slowly, I stand up and point to myself. “Yes, you.” Rick rolls his eyes at me. My heart drops. What does he want with me? I head to the front door.

The boss is surrounded by people. He is smoking a cigarette. “There she is.” He looks amused. “Smoke?” I don’t know how to speak. I’ve forgotten all my words. Should I say yes? Perhaps, I should say no. He moves on.

“Sammy called me...about the situation on Friday night...Sounds like some shit with the Haitians.” I shouldn’t have told Ellis anything. I hope I didn’t start anything. “Cat got your tongue, kid?” I sniffle trying to hold back my tears. “I…” He looks at the men around us. “Why don’t you take the day off, alright? Feel better.”

I nod to him, then, I take a step back. He gestures for me to come back.

“You take the bus here, kid?”

“Yes.”

“There we go. She speaks.” He chuckles to himself. “I can have my boy Paulie take you home, if you’d like.” I don’t want to impose. Plus, my father taught me not to accept rides from strangers. “I’ll take the bus.” Mr. Scaletta chuckles again. It sounds more like a scoff.

“Hey, white flag is up, kid.” He tells me. “I surrender. Those goons were idiots.” He sighs. “Bus, still?” I nod. He goes in his pockets and gives me money. “On me. Come back when you’re ready.”

“I just got here.” Mr. Scaletta gives me a look as if I am not listening to him.

“I should go..get my purse.” “You do that.”

---

When I get inside his office. I peek over the doorway and he’s speaking to someone. Our eyes immediately connect and I try to hide.

“Hey, thanks.” Mr. Scaletta stands and so does the man. He proceeds to walk the man to his doorway. They shake hands and part ways. I watch the man leave and turn back to Mr. Scaletta. He’s looking at me like he expects something. He gestures for me to follow him to his desk.

“Look who it is” He say, while I’m walking into his office. This is my first time being in here.

“Hi, Mr. Scaletta.” I’m nervous. I’m not sure how any of this works. I can’t even look him in the eye.

“Dottie, right?” He comes around his desk, “It’s nice of you to come by and formally introduce yourself.” He extends his hand and I take it. “Have a seat.” I pause.

“It’s quite...uhhh alright.” I stumble.

“I insist. What do you drink? Wine? Liquor? Coffee?” He chuckles.

“You appear college aged so maybe coffee?” “I really just came to thank you.” I say while taking a seat.

“You’ve done that. Now, hang out.” I can hear the sound of drinks being poured. “I am really sorry about the way those boys acted. They won’t be coming around no more.” “It’s okay.” “It wasn’t.” He puts a drink in front of me and we drink. “So, you in school?” “Graduated.” “Degree?” “Finance...from Brandt.” “Ah, so you’re a math kinda girl.”

“I can dig it.” I force a laugh. “I hear you’ve been real helpful with old Rick and organizing.” That’s about all he has me do everyday.clo

“Yeah, it was tough finding a job after college.” Why did I say that? I can hear him laughing. “That bad, huh?” I’m nervous. “Hey kid, it’s alright, I get it.”

The conversation progressed for about an hour. This white man has managed to tear down some of my social walls.

“It’s ummm getting late.” “You want a lift?” “I’m okay.” “Yeah, I guess I should have figured.” I stand up and grab my purse. “Mr. Scaletta?” “Vito, please.” “Vito, I could be very helpful to you.” I blurt.

“You already have been.”

“But more so! I’m really good with numbers. I run the black mob’s books---I think that’s what those Haitians wanted.” “Dottie-” His face changes. “I-look, do you tell people that?” “No.’ “Good. Don’t ever.” He says, “They were after ya, kid.”

“Sorry.’ My shoulders drop. “I won’t do anything about it.” He sighs. “It’s dark. Make it up to me and let me give you a ride.” “Well, when you say it like that.” “Come on.” He stands. “I don’t mind the ride to the Hollow.”

---

“Dottie.” Rick says standing above my desk.

“I just finished processing those dues.” I lightly point.

“Vito wants you.”

“In his office?” “Yes.” He pauses. “I think it’s funny that you ask me where his office is. Now, he wants to see you.” I’m not sure what to say. “I know what your kind can do.” He gives me such a hateful stare. “Don’t keep the man waiting.’

“Vito. You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. Took ya long enough.”

It is a bit of a walk to get from my office to Benny’s ristorante. “Get comfortable. You off work?”

“I am.” “Great. So uhhh telll me about your uhhh what you’re good at.” He stumbles.

“Finance?” He nods to me. “I went to school at Brandt. I got my undergraduate and graduate degree, here.”

“Oh. In Frisco Fields.”

“Yeah.” “Didn’t think they let in black people.” “Good grades.” I shrug. “There was three of us.” I nod. “I was thinking...as I’ve been working here, I could use last year’s information to give a prediction on how many men are needed this year and budgeting.” I can see the wheel’s turning in Vito’s head. “It’s not like Rick is keeping track of these things.”

Vito’s head snaps to me. I blew it. He’s going to kill me and have Rick fire me. “Seriously?” He leans back. “And you can do that for me?” “I could.” It would take some serious digging. “We’ve only just started talking and you’ve given me something to think about.” He shrugs. “Listen, Sammy and I have been talking about you.” Really? “I’ll tell him that I’m interested in giving you some side jobs.” “Okay.” I try to hide my smile. It’s quite a relief. Sammy and the black mob have been having issues with the Haitians, as of recent. Sammy has not been able to pay me. I still did the work because I love Sammy. “Dottie, this is River Row. I might be able to put just enough money in your pocket.”

---

Vito and Sammy must have worked something out. For the next few weeks. My time is being used in the Hollow, at the docks, and in the office. It’s hard work and it’s difficult to manage my time. The money from Vito is helpful. Plus, when I’m in River Row, some of the white men treat me much nicer. The best thing of all this is I’m untouchable, Rick Stanfield has no power over me.

“Hey, kid.” “Oh my god.” I jump. I drop my pencil and take a breath. “What are you doing here?” “I wanted to see what was going on.” He pulls up a chair. “The place definitely looks more organized.”

“Yes, if you are looking for everything I promised you.” I pause. “It’s coming but I have to figure out where everything is.” “So you’re auditing?” “Exactly.” “Ah, I’d pay you just for getting this place in shape.” “I’d give you, your cut of the union dues.” I shrug. “I finished counting an hour ago. The last time I put it in your hand, Rick felt he needed to show me who is boss.” “How so?” “He just told me about myself. I don’t care now.” I stand and start putting papers away. “He didn’t have nice things to say about you, today.”

“He hates me.” “Yeah? He told me that you are bossy, manipulative, and you make the boys uncomfortable.”

“Do you believe him?” “Not necessarily.” “You know me better than everyone here, now.” I pause. “I hope not.” Take a seat next to Vito. “I swear that guy has never looked at me until you started giving me work to do.He thinks I’m ratting him out.”

“See anything you should...tell me about?”

“Just how poorly his business is run.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t have a place for anything. He should be thanking me.” “Call it a night.” Vito stands. “Some of the boys have been saying that you’ve been working late.“

“Reminds me of my internship.” With more respect, of course. “Pack your stuff. You wanna eat, kid?” He shrugs. “It’s a nice night at the restaurant.” “Yours?” I feel like hesitating. “Yeah.” “I’m...okay.” “Ouch.” “I really have stuff to get done. I gave myself a deadline.” “Come on, kid. We just started to get comfortable.” That’s correct.

“I hired ya. I wanna get to know you.” There’s a silence between us. That’s nice of him. “Me too.” I want him to know that the feeling is mutual. “The water by your office always looks nice.” A small smile forms on his face. “Would you like to take a walk?”

The walk was a good idea. He talked me into eating with him by the water. “Funny, before I got here. I fucking hated fish-crabs. I eat all that shit now.” “It’s good!” I say. “As a kid, I lived near Maryland---the crab state.”

“So, do you like the ristorante now? Or did I force you?” “I like it...yes, you forced me.” I laugh. “Look, when I first started working here. I got invited to a happy hour, here.” I blurt. “Someone put a bug in my food.” Vito goes to speak. “It’s not your fault.”

“Just doesn’t feel right that you keep having these...bad experiences.”

“I was spoiled back in D.C.” That wasn’t even that great. “Amazes me. We’re in the tailend of the 1960’s!”

“You said it.” He starts smoking a cigarette. “So tell me about your life in Washington.”

“It was alright, you ever been?” He shakes his head. “I lived up there with my dad, my step mom, half brother. It was alright.”

“School made you come here?” “Brandt has an excellent Finance program.” I nod. “My old man was into it.” “Yeah? He into Math, too?” “For me.” I wink. “He was always helping me with homework and after school programs.” I smile. “I love that guy. He wants me to come back.” “Sounds like you have fond memories.” I know what’s the next question: Why not go back? “I’d like to be apart of something bigger than me.” I pause. “Like Tony DeRazio.” “Derazio?” He makes a face. “What’s so appealing about him?” “You know, he’s...he just does the stuff that I’d like to do.” “No, I don’t think he does.” Vito seems serious. “Stick with me, kid. I think this will be an eye opener for you.” “I’d like that.” I pause. “What about you? How did you get here?” “I relocated for work.” He shrugs. “Not everything I do is legal---why do you want that?” He changes the subject. “I don’t have an answer for you, yet.” This is something I’ve thought about. “I’m not sure if the things that are the most fun...are the illegal stuff.” I chuckle nervously. “I didn’t even know I enjoyed it until I started running with the Hollow.” “It only gets bigger, kid.”

“It was just...fun, man.” I say thinking back to my first night at Perla’s.

“You don’t honestly think that’s gonna put you on Derazio’s level, right? The black mob.” “I’m not following Vito Scaletta around for no reason.” We both smile at each other.”

“You’re…” He stops. “Different.”

“From most African Americans?” “For your generation, in general, why is it all about race with you?” “Well, when you’re negro...” I say with a shrug.

“I’ll show you some things, kid.”

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softforimjaebum · 7 years

Text

죄라 (4)

Im Jaebum x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: Angst

Summary: “How do you antifreeze?” “How?” “Steal her blanket”

Author’s Note: Spoiler; it is a little bit of a pun fest, and I refuse to apologise for it. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

You woke up the next day, in your all familiar bed with an all familiar smell. He tainted everything, and everyone. Including you.

You didn't really remember how you got in your bed, the last thing you could remember was being in Jackson’s car. You were guessing he was the one who got you safely in bed too. Which is when a sudden panic hit you; in your frenzy to leave the club, you had forgotten to pick up your clutch from the booth. It had some money and your phone, the second one being of way more importance.

As you were leaving your bed to possibly have to make a run back to the club, you were taken aback to see your phone charging on your bedside table with your clutch kept neatly propped up on it.

Jackson Wang; truly your knight in shining armor.

You checked your phone, groaning when you saw it was way past when you were supposed to be at the office.

The office. Your stomach churned uncomfortably at the very thought of the JYPE building. Even if the offices were a completely different section than where you would usually find the idols, and even if your job was way more involved with the trainees than the already debuted idols, it wasn't unusually to bump into them somewhere or the other. The bumping into each other is what kept your friendship with GOT7 alive after your temporary work with them was over.

You never took days off, not even sick leaves. Whether you were dying of a cold or had fever high enough to be able to cook stuff on your own body, you showed up to work. Not because your bosses were devils who didn't give you any time off, but because you liked your work. It didn't seem like work on most days.

But today you were still half asleep at the unacceptable hour of 11am on a Monday morning. So you texted you boss, telling him you were sick and you had only just woken up. And given your track record and friendly relationship with him, you knew he wouldn't mind one bit. If you were staying home as a sick day off he knew it had to have been bad.

There were a couple of other texts, the most important of which was from Jackson asking you to let him know when you've woken up and if you're doing okay. That was sent at 8am, when GOT7’s practice starts. You decided on texting him later, who knows where his phone would be right now? And more importantly with whom it could be with.

After you were done texting your boss, you made a mental to-do list in order of the necessity of the things you needed to get done.

While you knew you were hungry and should have been eating right away, there was a voice in your head constantly reminding you of exactly what had happened on these very sheets the day before. So you decided that the first order of the day was to wash your sheets, again. This time you put in a little more than the necessary amount of the really flowery detergent, hoping it could somehow wash away the memories that were made on it along with everything else.

Your stomach grumbled loudly enough to pull you from your thoughts. Even if food was the last thing you wanted to be worrying about you had to feed yourself. Life had to take its course of moving on whether you were ready to tag along or not, so keeping yourself fed was an important part. Or so you reasoned with yourself to make yourself get to your kitchen and make some food.

You dragged yourself out of your room, dreading to go to your kitchen and have vague memories of him there when a voice took you by surprise.

“You haven't eaten since last night have you?”

You let out a small scream, not expecting anyone to be home let alone the girl in front of you. If Cat was here it meant Jackson was worried enough to call her. And while you appreciated his worry, calling your closet friend during a time you knew she was busy with her work made you feel uneasy.

“What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the gallery?”

“Have you had anything to eat since last night?” Cat asked, ignoring your question completely.

You shook your head.

“Okay, I got us some pizza on my way here. And I have Brooklyn Nine-Nine streamed on your Netflix. Help me get everything set up”

“Okay”

And just like that, your late morning turned into an early lunch. You realised it was a good thing Jackson had told her. If he hadn't, you would stay living inside your head all day and that would just do you no good. Cat didn't ask any questions, knowing you would talk to her when you were ready. But even that little human contact was good for you.

Cat left late in the afternoon, deciding to indeed check up if everything was working perfectly at the gallery. And you continued to binge watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine wrapped up in the softest comforter you could find.

When you noticed that the lounge had gotten considerably darker, you decided you may as well get a head start on the dinner. Your roommate would probably be curious, and while you were really good friends you both were often known to lead very independent lives.

You knew she would be there for you when you needed her, and she knew that you would do the same. But both of you never felt the need to constantly keep in touch, even when you lived in the same house. Most days you would have dinner together, but even when you didn't it wasn't such a big deal for either of you.

Midway through the dinner prep, the bell rang and your heart rate instantly picked up. The two people who lived in the apartment never rang the bell. It was a thing between the two of you, both of you always carried keys and would let yourselves in regardless of whether the other one was home or not. Which meant that this bell ringer was someone else.

Before you would control it your mind instantly raced to Jaebum. What if it was him?

You mentally cursed yourself for that being the first thing you thought of. Why would it be him? What sort of wishful thinking had you landed yourself in?

You opened the door only to be engulfed in black hoodie followed by a tiny bark coming from below you.

“Noona!” you heard the black hoodie say, immediately recognising the voice that said it. “You didn't text Jackson hyung. And you didn't come to office today, we were so worried!”

Jackson Wang was about to need some life saving at this rate.

“Noona did you have lunch today? Have you had water?” Youngjae continued rambling as he held you.

You hugged him back, but it soon turned out to be a difficult task to continue.

“Yah Choi Youngjae! You're suffocating me”

He pulled back and smiled sheepishly at you.

“Noona is too small, what do I do?”

You hit his arm playfully and turned to the other one who was desperately wanted your attention on her.

“My little Coco, come here” you said to her, her tail wagging even more vigorously upon hearing her name being called out.

You continued to coo at Coco and pet her, while Youngjae took it upon himself to close your main door and invite himself in.

15 minutes later, all three of you were cuddled up on the sofa watching anime. Coco was squished between you and Youngjae, who kept talking mid way through, not that you minded. You loved Youngjae and just his presence was making you feel more at ease.

You texted Jackson in the pee break Youngjae took, telling him that you were fine and didn’t get around to texting him because you were worried about who he would be with. Jackson’s reply was instant.

You chose one hell of a time. I’m with him for the first time in the day right now. Talk to you later <3

Your heart dropped at the insinuation of Jaebum, but Youngjae was back from his pee break. You told him that you had texted Jackson like he had asked and the conversation took a very unexpected turn.

He told you how he was babysitting Coco and couldn't show up at the club the night before, and how Jackson did not feel like going back to the dorms after dropping you off so he had crashed at Youngjae’s apartment instead; where he had also ended up telling Youngjae about everything that had happened. He confessed that he was afraid things were going to turn sour between Jaebum and you when he first found about your little arrangement.

“Wait, how did you guys know about- you know- everything?”

He paused for a second.

“Ah noona, wasn't it too obvious? The way hyung looked at you sometimes, it made all of us uncomfortable at the tension in the room really”

You looked at Youngjae’s comical expression and it made you smile at him and lightly shoved him away.

“And how you and hyung would not be available at the same times, that was way too obvious”

So as it turns out all of them had known about you and Jaebum, which made you feel just a little better. This would mean there wouldn't be any awkward questions about why you weren't spending as much time with them in your free time.

Looking back, you knew you spent a little too much time with these boys. Your work had shifted to focusing on the JYP trainees and yet any time work was slow or you were free you were up in their practice room. It wasn't even because of Jaebum, you were just good friends with the boys. There had even been times you had hid in their practice room and times when you were swamped with work but you chose to bring it all to their practice room. You had sat on the couch that was always kept at the back of the room and done your work while they had learnt their choreography.

You suddenly remembered the half prepped food you still had in the kitchen, and invited Youngjae to stay for dinner. He agreed on the condition that he got to help you make whatever you were making. While cooking pasta for three was an extremely easy task, he insisted on helping and so you let him.

Youngjae cut the tomatoes for the pasta sauce while you cooked the marinated chicken. Admittedly it took a lot less time to cook with Youngjae helping you around.

An hour later, you were all sitting at the dinner table that you had been sitting with Jaebum just the day before, Youngjae, your roommate and you, along with Coco enjoying the little meat you kept aside for her. You tried explaining everything to your roommate but apparently Jackson had told her everything when he carried you up to your bedroom the night before.

This boy really told everyone didn’t he?

It was an easy conversation after that, you sneaked in a little more chicken to a puppy eyed Coco much to the grump of Youngjae who whined to you about how ‘you're gonna spoil her and then she will ask me for more food’ to which you argued that as Coco’s aunt you had every right to spoil her.

A little while later, all of you were sitting in the lounge sofa watching a romantic comedy to which Youngjae’s loud laugh made everything funnier. Coco was sandwiched between you and Youngjae, blissfully asleep with you scratching behind her ear. And as you sat there with your friends, life seemed way more manageable than it seemed that morning.

A couple of hours later when Youngjae left, and you and your roommate got back to your own rooms, all the negative feelings came flooding back into your mind. It was like a tide of sadness hit you, and you were suddenly seeing Jaebum’s memories scattered everywhere in your room. It was like he was haunting you. Things didn’t seem nearly as manageable as it seemed just a little while ago.

That is how you ended up on the floor, curled up in a comforter watching anything and everything that kept your mind off him until exhaustion took over.

The next few days were a blur, you did what every clichéd heartbroken protagonist does; busied yourself with work. You were glad the admin sections in the JYPE building were completely separated from the practice rooms and any other idol related areas because that meant there was no chance of you accidentally bumping into him. All you had to do was avoid him in the elevators, which you had pretty mechanically done. You were aware of the usual times they were supposed to come in and leave, and you purposefully avoided the elevators during those times or hid out in your office.

Another thing you were glad for was the constant presence of your friends. The boys had taken it upon themselves to come meet you in their breaks, sometimes all of them would cram themselves into your tiny office and have lunch with you.

Yugyeom took it upon himself to buy himself choco shakes and buy you coffee, and visit you whenever he had any free time; no matter how much you told him he didn't need to spend every free moment he had with you.

Where once your den used to be the practice rooms, now it was Youngjae’s new apartment. It was close to the JYP building and Coco was there; double the excuse for you all to drop by his apartment every now and then.

You knew that Jaebum had gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend, having had a very close call of bumping into her when Yugyeom and Bambam had once come over to whine to you to take them out for dinner and you had all left the building together. She was just entering and you had successfully hidden behind Yugyeom while Bambam distracted and dropped her till the elevators.

It wasn't like you hadn't expected it; you knew the day you walked out of that club that they would end up back together. They always got back together. Maybe it was fate or maybe it was bad decisions, but it happened every time so you tried to not let it faze you. It fazed you, more than you ever let on, but pretending that it didn’t until you believed it yourself was how you chose to deal with that situation.

In the month that followed, apart from the brief moments of hope you found when you were with you’re the boys and Cat, the only relief you found in life was in the form of a dear friend of yours finally being back in the city after a long tour.

Song Minho was exactly who you needed to take your mind off of everything that was happening. He insisted on catching up with you over lunch, and was currently on his way to pick you up and take you to Aori Ramen, where admittedly, you were hoping to catch a glimpse of Seungri.

After all, you would be crazy to not be a fan of Big Bang.

Minho was a shameless flirt and in the best way possible. He flirted not because he wanted to get in your pants but because he knew his cheesy pick up lines made you laugh. You had picked up a bad habit from him in the form of making really bad puns.

The bell rang just as you had put your bag together, and you found yourself really excited in to meet him after so long. You took the bag and quickly hurried to the door.

“Show Mino money!” you chirped. “How have you been?”

Mino laughed at you, shaking his head as he leaned in to hug you.

“When are you going to let me forget that awful pun?”

“Never” you said, hugging him back.

Minho was so familiar, in all the good ways too. You had known him the longest out of the whole lot of people you knew in the industry. You had bumped into him in your first year of college, before Winner had debuted, even before Team A was a thing. Initially you didn’t think that after his debut you would able to stay in touch with him, but Minho had turned up on your doorstep one night, takeout and a couple of soju bottles in hand, tired of the pressure he was under. You knew after that night that fame wasn’t getting in the way of this friendship.

“Okay let’s go I’m dying for lunch” he hurried you, handing you the keys from the hook they were hanging on near the door.

You quickly put on your shoes, and locked your door. You were probably starving just as bad as him, which was saying something.

Once you were both seated and had finished ordering food, Minho showed you pictures of Johnny and told how she had been bossing around the rest of the pets at the dorm. You missed Johnny so much, and he made you promise you would come visit everyone soon. You were glad to agree that whenever they had time next time around, you would drop by.

The food came and you both initially got busy trying to stuff your face with as much as food as possible. The conversations could always wait till later; food was a very important aspect of your lives. On your way back, you both stopped by to get your favorite mint chocolate ice-creams from a place near your apartment which you ate sitting in car while you told him about Jaebum.

He knew about everything that was between you and Jaebum from the beginning, and had once even called you out on the feelings you had been secretly harboring for Jaebum. Minho was a no-bullshit friend and on most days you appreciated that. Today, however, he was just a little disappointed; at the situation and at the man who put you in it. He could tell that your mood had turned just a little sour at the recollection, and he knew exactly how to fix it.

“Hey, I have a question for you” Minho said, a cheeky smile evident on his face. You knew nothing good came out of that smile, ever.

“How do you make antifreeze?”

You stared blankly at him, “How?”

“Steal her blanket”

“Oh my god, Song Minho, I am disowning you” you said, a smile creeping its way onto your face regardless of how lame the pun was.

“Oh please, you love it” he teased you, quickly stealing a little ice cream from you, having already finished his own.

You tried to turn away from him to save your ice cream but he held your hand as he scooped a little onto his spoon.

“Ah, let go, get yourself another one man”

“Nuh-huh” he mumbled, eating the ice cream he stole from you while you scowled at him. “Stealing from you is so much better, look at how annoyed you get”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Just take me home, Myno”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at your usage of his “rapper” name as he called it.

Once in front of your apartment, you collected your bag from the back seat and Minho got out of the car to drop you off till your door.

“Oh hey wait I have another question for you” he said as you both made your way to the front door of your building.

You stopped before buzzing in, turning around to look at him and asked, “What is it this time?”

“Do you have a map?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Why? Don’t you have GPS?

“No, because I just keep getting lost in your eyes and my GPS doesn’t know how to navigate that”

“Yuck!” you exclaimed, laughing at his cheesy pick up line. “Do you ever run out of these? Yuuuck”

He laughed with you, “Never”

You hugged him and he lifted you up, giving you a little swirl as he reminded you of your promise

“Come meet all of us soon, okay? Everyone misses you”

“I promise” you said, laughing as he put you down, trying to steady yourself.

With one last peck to your cheek, Minho made his way back to his car and you buzzed yourself in. You went inside, turning back one last time to wave goodbye to Minho.

He waved back at you, and just as Minho drove away you saw a familiar figure standing next to a car on the other side of the road.

Your heart picked up its pace at once, Jaebum was staring right at you. And you were staring right back. He didn’t look too pleased, and if you were honest you didn’t even want to believe he was here for you. You wanted to believe he was here for some other purpose, for someone else, for anyone else; as unlikely as the chances of that hope being true was.

You tried your best to steady yourself as you closed the front door as calmly as you could manage to do, hoping that he wouldn’t see right through your panic even from that far away.

As soon as the gate bolted shut, you sprinted for your apartment, hoping Im Jaebum standing across the road from your apartment was just a figment of your imagination.

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