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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 7

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N:

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!!

I’m sorry for this chapter being shorter than normal, but it is more of a transitional chapter to set up some new stuff! I’m trying a new writing style in this chapter and this is why the word count is shorter. I’m nervous about posting this chapter honestly, since I tried something different. The following chapters will be back up to 3.5-4k as usual! This story is not over!

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful.

Address mentioned is completely made up.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

Lee never stopped telling you how much he loved you. At first, you had thought it was a spur of the moment exclamation but you were mistaken. When you realized he meant it, you reciprocated telling him you loved him too, making him the happiest man in the world. It all happened so fast, and your relationship was evolving quickly.

Maybe living together played a factor in how quickly the relationship progressed. It’s hard to just be dating someone you already live with and can’t take out on proper dates. It made everything else happen faster. He wished he could spoil you and take you to restaurants and walk into a room with you on his arm, but he couldn’t yet.

But from that moment on, he never stopped telling you. He said the phrase probably every moment he could manage. Every time he called from his office; he wouldn’t hang up without muttering the phrase. He’d tell you that he loved you before he left the house, or he’d just announce it unprompted when you both were home together, like it was some epiphany or declaration. He’d love to whisper it to you, especially at night with you pulled tightly to his chest.

He made sure he’d tell you in nonverbal ways as well, always letting you know he was thinking about you. Somehow, you’d end up with flowers on your desk at work at least once a week as well, never with a card. He’d cook, and on his days off, he’d spend them with you or he would surprise you by fixing things on the house. Never in a million years had you ever expected Lee Bodecker to be such a romantic, and when you’d joke about it, he’d say,

“You give me a reason to be, doll.”

It was thrilling, having someone to love and to have those feelings reciprocated. The ability to just be able to give and receive love was something he was never able to manage, perhaps it was just never the right person, or perhaps he had always been too selfish.

Now for the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t thinking about himself.

You gave him purpose and something worth fighting for.

“When this whole thing is over and we’re out of this town, I’m gonna marry you,” he said rubbing your arm as you lay in bed cuddled up to his side. You lay your arm across his tummy and rest your head on his chest. You hum in agreement, resting your eyes, both of you waking up earlier than you needed and you were enjoying the peaceful moment of the morning together.

“I hate seeing you with that Russel kid,” he’ll mutter, possessively pulling you closer, you could feel the vulnerability in his voice.

The past weeks have been really hard on Lee. It bothered him more and more each day, knowing Arvin was the one who got to drive you home from work and just being out and about with you. He knew you were his, and he never didn’t trust you. But you were so blind to the boy’s obvious feelings for you. It was something that would eat at him at night.

He couldn’t even blame you, if Arvin was able to sweep you away from him. Arvin was a good kid- took care of his family, worked a decent job, went to Church, and he was your age. He was much better looking in the traditional sense than Lee as well. Plus, you had a history. The boy was your first love and no one forgets their first love.

He knew you didn’t look at Arvin the same way Arvin looked at you, but he was always worried that a shift could come. If that damned reporter wouldn’t leave town and the more time you spent with Arvin, the more you’d see how much you’d actually want to be with him instead. You always told Lee he was the one you wanted and he believed you, but he worried that you would change your mind. He was so insecure, and he felt guilt, and he knew that he didn’t deserve to be happy, that he didn’t deserve your affection.

Sometimes he couldn’t let himself relax. Scenarios of all the different reasons you could leave him for polluted his mind and he hated how it took him out of being in the moments he just wanted to enjoy. He’d see you in his mind, happy with Arvin, marrying him instead and creating all those experiences with Arvin instead of him.

“He’s just my friend,” you reiterate, probably now for the millionth time. You were patient, and it never seemed to bother you, that the two of you ending up having this same conversation over and over. He needed the constant reassurance, and he hated the fact that he did.

“I want you, Lee,” you’ll mumble affectionately, trying to shower him with compliments and praise, to lift him up when he got down like this. “I don’t want any other man,” you’d affirm.

“This town is poison,” Lee mutters, looking out the window, the blinds pulled back as the sun is steadily rising. “Everything feels like it’s tainted,” he observes.

“Except us,” you correct him. He nods, but he knows his statement especially applies to him.

“Except you,” he sighs, his fingertips tracing circles on your bare shoulder.

“You don’t think you’ve ruined me, Sheriff?” you tease, making him smile, gradually pulling him out of his state. You’d lean up and kiss him, and the sensation would help his thoughts fade away for a few minutes. The feeling of your lips and soft skin against his own just putting his mind at ease, using his other senses to just keep his mind at bay.

He’s not sure if you realize how much he means it when he talks about escaping away from the town and marrying you. He thought about it all the time and it was what he was working toward. He knew even if he managed to go straight, if when Curtis left town, if the case around your mom was resolved, the town would still eat you up. The image of you both would be sullied. Reputation was crucial for survival in a town like this. You’d already been subjected to it before your relationship started.

He knew the solution was simple. He needed to take you away from Ross County, move to a new town where no one knew you both. It would just be a Sheriff and his new bride looking for a place to settle down. No rumors, or peeping eyes, or reporters, or exes, no corruption- just the two of you. Get a house, maybe start a family if you wanted that too.

He hoped you did. He’d be content either way, but he wanted a big family. His growing up was much less than ideal and it was just him and his sister. He loved the idea of a bigger family. He loved the image of having a house that was loud in a different way than what he grew up in. He often worried if he’d be a good father, but he never once doubted how excellent of a mother you would be if you wanted.

The only thing he wanted in his future was you, and everything else would be a blissful bonus of things he also doesn’t deserve. But to him you deserved the world and he simultaneously wanted to give you everything but then at the same time he felt like he would hold you back. You were young and had so many good years ahead of you. He couldn’t imagine you’d want to waste the rest of your life or even the rest of your twenties with him.

You could get a job doing anything you wanted and he could run for Sheriff in the new town maybe, or he could do something else. It didn’t matter to him anymore really. The time he’s been with you has really helped him see what is actually important. It was the only thing he wanted. He wanted to be able to give you that because he knew that you deserved it and more than he’d ever be able to give you.

Laying in bed with you on this lazy morning, reminded him of the last time he was there when you were still bartending. It was the first time that pesky day dream of his started. It was something a lot bigger now than it was then. He loved you, and he was relieved he could say it to you now, and he wanted to settle down. This backwards way the two of you got together was a mess but it was yours. He wouldn’t trade it for anything, but he knew he needed to make things right.

He had been so blind, for so long, and he finally started to feel like he could be someone he actually wanted to be.

All he needed was time and he could set it all straight.

***

Arrest of Pimp in Knockemstiff, Ohio Reveals Corruption of Town Sheriff

By: Henry Curtis

Sheriff of Ross County, Lee Bodecker, has been allegedly involved in the coverup of a local brothel, run by Leroy Brown. Brown and several of his associates were arrested on Wednesday night by local police for drug possession and possession of illegal firearms. As the group resisted arrest, there was a shoot out at a small bar in Meade, which was revealed to serve as a front for their operation. Seven men, including Brown, were arrested Wednesday night for questioning by the local police.

While giving his statement, Brown confessed to the charges and in hopes of a lesser sentence, cooperated with police and provided names of all involved in the underground prostitution ring. He provided the police with twelve names, including that of the local Sheriff Lee Bodecker and his sister Sandy Henderson, who has since also been apprehended by the local authorities.

Sandy Henderson was apprehended on Thursday morning, and made bail for $500 that Saturday. Henderson and her husband, both denied an opportunity to provide a statement. The pair only stated they will be promptly returning home and want to put this behind them.

Although there has been no release of his official statement as of yet regarding this alleged involvement, Bodecker was taken into custody the next morning, apprehended by his deputies from his home. Deputy Bill Thomas has since announced that the Sheriff will be subject to a trial in the near future, and for now faces an indefinite suspension from his post until his innocence has been proven. Deputy Thomas has also said that regardless of the outcome of the trial, Bodecker will be unable to run for reelection next term.

With this new development, it is also worth noting that the Sheriff is a tenant of (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the daughter of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker who is currently wanted by law enforcement for embezzling thousands from her husband Harvey Tucker’s company, Tucker Brokerage, and then fleeing with her sixteen-year-old son. When police arrived at her home Thursday morning to apprehend the Sheriff, deputies on scene took an official statement from (Y/L/N), where she denied knowledge of the Sheriff’s involvement in any of the alleged criminal activities nor any knowledge regarding her mother or brother’s whereabouts.

Woman Wanted for Embezzling Funds from Tucker Brokerage Arrested in Indiana

By: Henry Curtis

Former resident of Knockemstiff, Ohio, Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker was arrested in South Bend, Indiana yesterday morning before dawn. Being able to identify her as a wanted person, Este and Harold Turner, owners of the Sunnyside Motel where (Y/L/N)-Tucker had been staying for about three days prior to the arrest, notified the local authorities she was staying in one of their rooms. She also was accompanied by her sixteen-year-old son.

The boy’s older sister has now become the boy’s sole guardian and he has since returned to his hometown. According to the police, the boy was completely cooperative and they believe he had no knowledge of his mother’s crimes. In a statement given the night of the arrest, the boy told police he believed they were running from his step-father, as his mother insinuated, she had been a victim of domestic abuse. There is no evidence yet as to whether her statement is true, but there will be an investigation of husband, Harvey Tucker, to discover if this claim is true.

Both children of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker have not agreed to speak about their mother or the situation to anyone except police. Daughter, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), said when she arrived in Indiana to pick up her brother, seemed to only care about getting her brother home safely. Locals report she never asked to see her mother, and only focused on her brother.

As of now, (Y/L/N)-Tucker will remain in the custody of the South Bend Police until they are ready to transport her to Columbus, Ohio where she will face jail time and then eventually a trial.

Corruption in Knockemstiff High School Staff, Principal Arrested for Illegal Distilling- Sheriff Involved in Cover Up

By: Henry Curtis

Principal of local high school, Mark Cunningham, was arrested today after local police discover an illegal distillery on his residence. Police had retrieved a warrant to search Cunningham’s land after receiving an anonymous tip from a source close to the Principal.

Following his arrest, Cunningham admitted to the felony, but also claimed Ross County’s previous Sherriff, Lee Bodecker, had prior knowledge of the still, and in exchange for his silence, he demanded Cunningham offer a secretarial job at the high school to his landlord, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who is the daughter of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker, who recently was tried for embezzlement.

The vice-principal of the high school, Meredith Lively, has stepped forth as interim principal until the position can be filled, and ensured the press (Y/L/N) had been fired effective immediately, despite her claims of being unaware any such deal had conspired. Police have found no evidence to contradict (Y/L/N)’s statement, and in an official statement taken from Bodecker, he confirmed that it was part of the deal she not be made aware of the circumstances.

New Sheriff Elected to Ross County

By: Henry Curtis

Former Deputy Bill Thomas has been elected Sheriff of Ross County. Following the trial of former Sheriff Lee Bodecker, who had been found guilty of all charges, Bodecker was barred from office, and given a five-year sentence.

Deputy Thomas in an acceptance speech during a recent town hall meeting, ensured residents of Knockemstiff that “one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch” and the Sheriff’s department under new control will keep the town safe, and clean of crime and corruption. When asked by reporters how he felt about Bodecker, Thomas only described his situation as “unfortunate.”

There has been no other evidence of corruption within Ross County Sheriff’s Department although the investigation is still ongoing. When asked during his trial if he received any corroboration from any other law officials, Bodecker stated he never involved other members of the force with his wrongdoings.

REAL ESTATE

Room Available for Rent in Knockemstiff, Ohio

$50 monthly rent (utilities included)

1 Bedroom (250 sq. ft.), furnished

Private bathroom with shower

4 Birch Street

Knockemstiff, Ohio

Please call the following number with serious offers. Price negotiable.

PART EIGHT

Taglist

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3 @hersilencedscreams @malar-region @purplerain85 @vesper852 @smilewolfdolan @softshell-taco @champagnebucky @lilacmeadows @mollygetssherlockcoffee

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1kook · 6 years

Text

crisis averted

❀: Chanyeol x (F) Reader

summary → The doorbell rings not even ten minutes later, and you buzz him up without even checking the little screen to see if it’s actually Chanyeol. But who else would show up at your door past midnight? → friends to lovers, sexual content (smut) → 5.2k

this isn't proofread lmao mobile users: there is a read more inserted but it doesn't work unless the post is reblogged so I'm sorry if you have to scroll through all this! :(

for reference x!

Chanyeol was in the middle of what was probably his third mid-life crisis when you’d first met him, his hair a pastel array of colors that seemed to reflect the tumultuous state of his emotions. You’d been alarmed at his appearance, never before seeing someone as mismatched as he’d been, his very obviously buff figure hidden beneath a multitude of loose clothing, his boyish facial features thrown for a loop whenever he spoke in that deep tone of his. He was constantly changing, balancing between the happiest person in the universe, and the biggest crybaby ever. But his emotional state wasn’t due to some traumatic event that had occurred to him, like the death of a loved one, or a break-up more severe than any drama writer could ever imagine, but it was simply because he wasn’t sure whether or not he turned the stove off that morning.

In short, Chanyeol was an enigma, a perplexing being whose preferred choice of action always contained the most complex solution, even when the simplest answer was available.

Perhaps thats why it’d been so easy to befriend him during college, with the way he fluttered from group to group, seemingly finding something to relate to within everyone he ever met. Chanyeol had become the planner of your group outings, mostly the instigator of all those weird three a.m. adventures, and though your friend circle seemed large, he’d always found a time to sneak in a little conversation between the two of you. Of course, he’d done that for everyone and his never-ending kindness was what had made him such a lovable character among you all, one of those guys that you remembered way after college as the life of the party, and, in most cases, the one that ended up a deadbeat crackhead.

Yet Chanyeol was different in the sense that he had high hopes for his future, dreams that eclipsed any possibility of him becoming a failure. He was dead set on his career as an architect, putting aside his pride to even attend tutoring for that mathematics class he was falling behind in. His determination to succeed in life was so strong, that it was no surprise he did end up in the career he wanted, and had even advanced through different promotions all within your first year out of college.

The way he’d slithered his way into your life after graduation was also confusing.

Though you’d still kept in touch with the majority of your college friends, he seemed to be the one that stuck out the most, his presence nearly inevitable in your daily life. It wasn’t anything too major, not like his clothes were in your house, but just tiny things, like how he’d somehow managed to sneak his copy of Tokyo Drift into your movie collection, or the annoying habit of his to line up all your shoes every time he visited. It was those little gestures that seemed to stand out the most in your apartment, and eventually, you weren’t the only one that noticed.

“Did Chanyeol come over?” Jongdae called from the kitchen, where he was supposed to be grabbing the two of you a bottle of water. You hummed in response, your attention primarily focused on the paperwork before you. Your current occupation was as an elementary school teacher, and though you loved working with kids, their handwriting was absolutely atrocious, and the only other person willing to strain their eyes for two hours straight happened to be your best friend.

“Yeah, he dropped by yesterday,” you responded, handing a sheet over to Jongdae as he dutifully returned to his spot on the floor by the coffee table. In exchange, he handed you the water bottle, and you barely cracked the lid open when he dove into his interrogation.

“He loves bothering you, doesn’t he?” He teased, and you could only offer a half-hearted shrug, gulping down the water instead. Jongdae nudged your side, and you slowly lowered the bottle, raising your brows at him as if he was saying something useless. He was, but he’d smack you over the head with a throw pillow if you said as much.

“Don’t you think he comes over a little too much for someone who’s just a friend?” He sighed, and you blinked.

The thought had occurred to you multiple times. Chanyeol’s visits were often, probably at least once a week, more frequent than Jongdae’s, and he was supposed to be your best friend. You didn’t mind them though, as his presence seemed to calm you in a way no one else’s did. But you could see why Jongdae had his suspicions, and from an outsiders perspective, it did seem like Chanyeol was a nuisance to you, and the fact most of the stories you shared about him included Chanyeol being a bit overbearing didn’t seem to help.

But you knew Chanyeol in a way Jongdae didn't, despite you all being college pals, and you knew he wouldn’t understand that Chanyeol wasn’t bothering you for the mere fact he wanted someone to annoy, but because he cared about you, and valued your friendship enough to check up on you. There was also the fat he brightened your day when he’d pop in, even if his stay was only for a few minutes with the sole intention of grabbing a water in the middle of his jog. He was naturally friendly and nurturing, and the sight of him sprawled across your sofa as you reheated leftovers, waiting to hear about your week, was so ingrained in your mind already.

You weren’t exactly sure when Chanyeol had morphed from ‘that one guy’ in your group to someone you found yourself relying on, even when nothing was wrong. Since your first introduction, he’d had two other midlife crises, the first one making him impulsively dye his hair a flaming red color, but he was your friend so you were mandated to be there for him whenever another minor inconveniences occurred in his admittedly fast-paced life.

Chanyeol’s hair had been that fiery color when your dirtbag boyfriend had dumped you two weeks before graduation. You remember the way you’d bumped into him as you climbed off the bus in front of your campus, and how he’d dropped his grocery bag in an attempt to comfort you. You’d barely known each other then, and the sickening crack his carton of eggs had made as he pulled you into a soft side hug had sent you into a spiraling panic.

But Chanyeol hadn’t minded, he even walked you across the campus until you reached your dorm building. It was the first instance you’d found yourself leaning for him, any sort of reservations you’d had before flying out the window as he saw you to your dorm, and even went as far as waiting for you to wash your face and crawl into bed, before shutting the lights off and promptly leaving.

“He’s my close friend,” you drawl when you realize you’d left Jongdae hanging for too long. He eyes you as if he wants to ask more, but you beat him to it. “You’re the one who said I should be nicer to him,” you point out, and revel in the defeated sigh he gives in response.

Jongdae stays a while longer, but once the sun begins setting, he leaves. He’s been working weird shifts at work lately, so you don’t beg him to help you any longer, and even wrap up some of the homemade gelatin you’d made yesterday for him to take on his way out.

You’re left alone in your thoughts for the rest of the night, until Chanyeol texts you around midnight, and you contemplate ignoring it as you open your retainer case, face freshly washed and hair pulled away from your face. You’re beyond tired, and tomorrow’s Saturday, so you can sleep in for as long as you want; you want nothing more than to collapse right now.

But your curiosity gets the best of you and you find yourself setting aside your retainers in favor of reaching for your phone, swiping a finger across the screen until your messages open up and your faced with a challenge.

chanyeol [12:13 pm] we have a problem.

You can feel your last peaceful exhale leave you like the ocean’s pulling tide in the early morning hours, Chanyeol’s text burning itself into the back of your eyelids as you let them flutter shut. You can’t stop the palm you raise to your face, your pointer finger massaging your temples as you begin considering how to go about this. You could easily ignore the message and tell him in the morning that you’d already been asleep then. He was familiar with your sleeping habits enough to believe such a lie. But there’s also the possibility that Chanyeol really is in trouble this time, and not going through another minor inconvenience that even a toddler could easily get around.

___ [12:15 pm] what is your problem?

He responds right away.

chanyeol [12:15 pm] our* problem

chanyeol [12:16 pm] i’m coming over.

You nearly slam your head against your vanity. Leave it to Chanyeol to deprive you of your sleep. After the week you’ve had, you have to talk yourself out of strangling him the second he shows up. It’d only taken him five minutes to ruin your night so it’s only fair.

Pushing your irritation aside, you go about your apartment, picking up the stray socks here and there, and even doing a light sweep of the place. You weren’t kidding about your week, so it was natural your place had taken a little extra hit from your growing stress in the form of scattered cookie crumbs and misplaced shoes.

The doorbell rings not even ten minutes later, and you buzz him up without even checking the little screen to see if it’s actually Chanyeol. But who else would show up at your door past midnight? As you walk past the front door, broom in hand, you unlock the door before continuing down the hall to return the broom to its rightful place in the spare closet.

Chanyeol bursts in without knocking, a habit of his that had terrified the living daylights out of you when he'd first began visiting you. You don’t think much of it now, and don’t even flinch at his clambering as he tugs off his shoes, trailing your way back to the front door to greet him.

“Hey,” you say and all is calm for exactly a quarter of a second, before Chanyeol’s entire face goes up in flames. You’re immediately startled, and don't waste time ushering him inside as he struggles out a greeting that is only half comprehensible, his flustered state worrying you the longer he stutters about. “Jesus, Yeol, what happened to you?”

Chanyeol’s looking every bit the abducted civilian as he sits awkwardly perched on your couch, his brown eyes hidden behind the thin glass layer of his spectacles. Suddenly, you notice the soft hues of his hair, peeking out beneath the brim of his hat. Without much warning, you snatch the accessory off his head, greeted by the sight of his wavy hair colored a pastel shade, similar to the it’d been when you first met.

“I-I can explain!” he exclaims, snatching the hat back out of your grasp to stuff over his hair. He’s visibly a mess, and you can already tell he’s going through another one of his crises just by the way his gaze flickers between you and the potted plant behind you.

“Oh, dude,” you breathe, trying to chance another peek at his hair, which he dutifully avoids by clamping a palm over the top of his hat, holding it down firmly. “You’re going through some shit, aren’t you?” You plop down beside him, criss-crossing your legs as you turn to face his tense figure.

“You have no idea,” he whines, before slumping into the couch, long arms spreading over the entirety of the back. His hair makes him appear way tanner than he normally is, the soft pinks and purples curling around his ears where the hat doesn’t exactly cover.

You know you should feel sympathetic, but you can’t help the snort that escapes your lips as you stare at Chanyeol. He’d been so put together last week as he’d rambled on and on about some new project at work, and how awesome Sehun’s birthday party had been. He’d just finished moving into a new apartment too, one that allowed him to finally reclaim his dog from his family home and live with him. From an outsider’s perspective, Chanyeol couldn’t possibly have anything to complain about, especially with the life he lead now.

Carefully, you tug the black hat off his head, and when he doesn’t protest, you begin running your fingers through his newly dyed hair. You’re surprised he hasn’t begun balding, especially with the rate he changes up his hair; it’s unusually silky for someone who pours way too many chemicals into it.

“Wanna talk about it?” You hum, and his eyes flutter shut beneath your touch. He sighs, and you can already tell he’s going to dive into the venting of a lifetime right now. Hopefully, you can derail his stress enough that he doesn’t impulsively dye his hair another color tomorrow. By the way he’s slowly dissolving into a puddle beneath your fingers, it’s possible.

“They wanna build a villa,” Chanyeol murmurs, head tilting just the slightest in your direction. “A fucking villa,” he repeats, and an unamused huff leaves his throat. “Can you believe that, ___? He contracts me for a bachelor pad, and after we’ve finally hammered out all the stupid little details he spent months crying about, his fiancée says she wants a fucking villa.” He groans, and you run your nails against his scalp, until his agitated grunt melts into a soft whine.

You nod along, even though his eyes are shut, but you know he can feel your sympathy as you toy with his hair. “But it gets worse!” He shifts, so his head is pressed into the couch cushions and turned your way, his body slowly becoming one with the cotton beneath him. “Apparently, Toben can’t be in the complex backyard until I get him spayed, which, I could’ve sworn he was, but apparently he wasn’t!”

“You should take him to Minseok’s clinic,” you suggest, voice quiet compared to his loud tone as he continues on complaining over you. You don’t mind, and just listen for a few more minutes as he tells you everything wrong with his life, including how he’d gone to dye his hair a dark red, only to hastily decide on the pastel mess it was now, without considering the fact his work dress code only called for moderately natural hair colors. Now he’d have to go again before Monday to dye it black or brown (’or something! I don’t know!’) again.

You’ve long since abandoned combing through his locks, and instead chose to pick at a stray thread on one of your throw pillows, listening intently to everything he said. He rarely had moments like these, where every single thing seemed to get on nerves, but you yourself had plenty. And he was always there for you, so it was only just that you did the same for him.

By the time Chanyeol’s irritation is reaching its end, he’s basically cursing everything, even things that don’t have any correlation to his current distress. “And also, I haven’t vacuumed the living room carpet in weeks, the bathroom soap is about to run out, and I haven’t gotten laid in three fucking months now,” he whines, eyes screwing shut as his lips push out into a pout.

He seems settled after that, his ragged breath slowly turning into a soft sigh, until he’s completely cooled down from his blow up. “You should vacuum while Toben’s at the vet,” you say afterwards, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you lean into the couch, one hand propped on your elbow.

Unconsciously, your fingers stretch out to toy with his hair again, but this time, his eyes flutter open. “And there’s definitely an unopened hand wash under the sink,” you add as you recall the tangerine scented bottle you’d seen last week when you’d all gone over for game night at Chanyeol’s place.

He sighs, leaning into your touch. He looks ridiculously soft in this state, and with his hair array of pinks and purples, the occasional baby blue peeking out, he looked almost heavenly. “You can’t have such an easy solution for everything,” he huffs, an though his comment is sarcastic, his tone is lighthearted. You give a noncommittal hum at his words, and his brown eyes slowly find yours. The glint in his eyes is different then, nothing like the jittery mess that had walked through your door. “What about getting laid?” He teases, the corner of his lip curling upwards.

You roll your eyes. “Just go to a club, or something,” you reply offhandedly, before turning away from him to stretch your cramping legs out. Chanyeol shifts, and when you sit back again, he’s sat up now.

“What if I don’t wanna go to a club?” He pushes, running his fingers through his hair until it’s pushed away from his forehead.

You shrug. “Then go to a brothel.”

Chanyeol huffs out a cackle, which you ignore in favor of watching the way his lips pull tight around his smile, and his Adams apple bops as he throws his head back. When he’s done, he turns his gaze back to you, and for the first time, Jongdae’s words ring in your mind again.

You shoo them away quickly though. “You have too many problems, Yeol,” you point out, and he chuckles again, though this time it’s more muted and less as amused.

“Yeah,” he muses, eyes trailing over your face in a way he’s never really done before. He’s eyeing you again, which you try to ignore, but when your gazes meet, suddenly you feel taken away at the intensity of his stare. It’s as if you’re suddenly realizing your situation. Alone with a man on a Friday night, both of you gazing at each other too deeply for people who are just friends. The sudden realization startles you into looking away first, eyes landing on the papers scattered across your coffee table.

A hand presses to your thigh, bare due to the length of your shorts. “My biggest problem,” Chanyeol murmurs, and your eyes instinctively snap back to him. He grins, his chest rising as he takes in another heavy breath. “Is you.”

“Huh?” You question, and for the first time, you feel nervous in front of Chanyeol. You feel unsure of the way he’s gazing at you, at the way his fingers press into your thigh, and the way he looks like he belongs there, nestled inside your apartment as if he’s always been there. Perhaps he does, you think, as your eyes slowly trace down his face until you catch yourself staring at his mouth, his lips turned upwards in an arrogant smirk you rarely see on Chanyeol.

He leans forward then, and your body betrays you, letting him press against you until he has you between his warm body and the armrest of the furniture. “You’re my biggest problem, ___,” he sighs, his mouth suddenly pressed against your neck, and you can’t help the tiny gasp that fights its way out of your throat.

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathe, though your hands curl their way around Chanyeol’s shoulders, and can feel the twitch of his muscles as his hand trails up your side. “Chanyeol,” you gasp, when he suddenly presses a kiss beneath your ear, and your faithless body arches up into him.

“God, ___” he says against the skin of your neck, and you jump when you feel his hand pull against the back of your thigh, slowly encouraging your legs aside until he’s cradled between your legs. “I come over here all the time, take you out to eat whenever you want, and I even buy you makeup shit that I don’t even know anything about,” he huffs, and nips at the vein in your neck. Your breath stutters and you find yourself melting under his touch, similar to the way he had been earlier when you’d brushed your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve been trying to win you over for the longest time, love,” he murmurs, his mouth on your neck getting bolder with every word he says. He pulls away only for a moment, brown eyes meeting yours as he quietly says, “you stress me the fuck out.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your throat, and the blindingly bright smile Chanyeol sends your way is enough to make your heart tap dance in your chest. “Yeol, you’re the worst!” You huff, rolling your head back until it’s over the curve of the armrest. He seems weirdly complacent as he watches you war with yourself, all your past theories suddenly bubbling to the surface.

Jongdae was one hundred percent correct in his weird assumptions of Chanyeol, and though a deep part of you always knew he was way too touchy for someone who was just a friend, you hadn’t believed someone as marvelous as Chanyeol could be interested in you.

He doesn’t let you drown in your past self doubts for long before he’s resuming kissing along your neck, his lips slowly inching their way up. “Do you know how annoying it is having to watch you whine about how no one likes you every weekend,” he murmurs against your jaw, where he’s making quick work of reaching your lips.

“Shut up,” you whine, arms twining around his back to finally pull him closer. “Just kiss me before I kick you out.”

Chanyeol complies, pressing his pink lips to yours in what is your first kiss with him. He’s a disgustingly good kisser, and for a moment you kick yourself for letting him wander off with random women at parties, women who’d gotten to see another side of him, when you could’ve been seeing him in this light, hearing the sounds he makes as he pushes against your core. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he chuckles when he pulls away, cheeks adorably flushed and lips sinfully red and plump. God, do you really hate your own obliviousness.

Though he pecks your lips once more, he soon begins working his way in the direction he’d come from, lips pressing to your neck at all the right spots, leaving you a panting mess beneath him. The shirt you’re wearing only works in Chanyeol’s favor, and he crumples the over-sized material in one fist, pulling it away to expose one side of your neck.

“Ch-Chanyeol,” you pant when he shifts against you, and something brushes against your core. Your hands dig into the back of his own shirt, fisting the material under your tight grasp.

He hums, his hands finally releasing you to push up your shirt instead, long fingers tickling up your skin the further he goes. You’d tugged on a lacy bralette when he’d first announced his visit, too lazy to tug on a real bra but not bold enough to let the girls swing in his presence. Apparently, none of that mattered now as Chanyeol’s fingers traced along the soft lace of the only article keeping his hands from your hardening nipples.

He pushes your shirt back, and leans away just the slightest to stare at the cute lace that hugged your skin. “Wow,” he breathes, flashing you another one of those dopey smiles. There’s a bow sewed into the center of the garment, a dainty little thing that sits in the valley between your breasts, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. “You’re like a present.”

You pinch his bicep, though he probably doesn’t feel it through all that muscle because all Chanyeol does is laugh, obnoxiously loud for someone currently making out. But it’s endearing in a way you never thought sex would be, his hands stroking up your side as he gazes at you intimately. “Hurry up,” you tell him, deciding the best way to get him back on track is with more skin. So you tug the shirt over your head, and make quick work of disposing his own.

“Relax, baby,” he says once you’ve managed to wrangle him out of his long sleeve shirt. There’s a new tattoo on his clavicle, a date that you hadn’t seen before, and when you point it out questioningly, Chanyeol’s only response is, “I love my mom.”

“Of course you do,” you murmur, before pulling him by the neck to kiss you again. He does so without complaint, and repositions himself above you until he’s somewhat on his knees, somewhat lying down, his skin on yours scorching.

Chanyeol’s hand is already under the soft material of your bra, fingers toying with your hardened nipple, when he decides he needs to kiss you again, surging forward to sloppily press his mouth against yours. His tongue is all too skilled as he licks into the hot inside of your mouth, and you know he has that stupidly dopey grin on from the way you occasionally feel his teeth press against your lips. “Stop it,” you quietly whine, fingers knotted in the pastel tresses of his hair.

“I can’t help it, baby,” he replies, and you have a hard time swallowing the moan that builds in the back of your throat when he finally frees both your nipples from their clothed cage, only to capture them between his fingers. “You look so cute right now.”

Before you can point out his cheesiness, he’s manhandling you around the couch, until you’re seated in his lap. The dark shorts he’d shown up in have shifted from all the movement, until they’re clinging dangerously low on the dip of his waist, all taut muscles on display before you. He taps your arms, urging you to raise your arms, before he’s pulling the bralette over your head, and you’re left in the same state of dress as him, a feat he doesn’t let last long.

Chanyeol helps you shimmy out of the cotton shorts you’d been wearing, and when you’re finally seated on his lap in only a lacy little underwear you’d bought at a Victoria’s Secret sale, he takes you in. His hands are as wild as he is, tracing over your shoulders and down your spine, a ticklish feeling that makes you unconsciously arch into him, pressing your breasts a little too close to his face. Chanyeol doesn’t mind, and had you not sat back down onto his lap, he’d have leaned forward to lick at your nipples.

When he’s satisfied with the mapping out he’s done of your body, he lets his fingers trail between your legs, running one lone finger over the little dip where your folds meet. Your body twitches, and you bite down the moan building in your throat. “C’mon, ___,” he murmurs, lips pressed to your neck as his fingers continue their ministrations. “Tell me what you want.” He presses one finger against your clit, and you gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Y-You,” you stammer, already feeling the last traces of control leaving your body as you submit to him, body completely malleable under his touch. “I want you, Yeol,” you whimper, and you reach your hands out towards him in a last ditch effort to stabilize yourself. One hand digs into the taut muscles of his shoulder, while the other tangles itself in that bright head of his, your fingers buried between strands of pink and purple.

“Really?” Chanyeol grins, and before you can respond, he’s pushed aside your underwear and has one finger gently prodding at your slick pussy. His finger now halfway submerged inside of you, he presses a kiss against your neck, where a thin sheen of sweat has accumulated. His finger twists inside of you, and you're vaguely aware that he’s knuckles deep, as he adds in that low voice of his, “you like my fingers, baby?”

You nod, your lip bruising between your teeth. He’s only got one finger inside of you, yet you’re already a withering mess in front of him, thighs quivering with every curl of his digit, your whole body jolting when he brushes his thumb against your clit.

Chanyeol continues on fingering you, basking in the sounds you make, and the way you cry his name when he brushes against the sweet spot inside of you. You’re sweaty and gross, but the way he glances up at you like you’re an ancient goddess makes your heart thud faster until you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

He slips another finger in to properly scissor you, and you nearly weep from the sensations coursing through your body. “Faster,” you beg, voice hoarse from all the incoherent babbling you’ve been doing, but Chanyeol complies, twisting his wrist hard and fast, until you’re pushing down into his fingers, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” he says, lips sucking at your collarbone. At this point, you’re contributing equally as much as Chanyeol to your impending orgasm, rutting against his hand like an animal in heat. He doesn’t seem to mind as he kisses along your damp skin, sucking marks against places you know will be hard to cover up, but in the moment you don’t seem to mind. “You’re making such a mess,” Chanyeol sighs, and when you glance down, his hand is glistening with your own pleasure.

Your orgasm is slowly creeping up on you, and your body feels ridiculously weak, your mind in an even more frazzled state from all that’s happened so far. You fall forward, burying your face against Chanyeol’s neck as his hands get faster and your hips get slower.

“Yeol,” you pant, and his hips unconsciously thrust up into your core, drawing a long moan from you. The sound only seems to work him further, and you’re suddenly aware he’s been holding himself back in favor of pleasuring you first. “It’s so good,” you tell him, lips flush against his skin, you tongue languidly licking at the spot just beneath his ear.

His makes a sound to let you know he’s listening, fingers curling inside of you as you continue whimpering against his chest. “Please, Yeol,” you whine, suddenly grinding your hips forward until his hand is trapped between the two of you and his covered cock is rubbing against your folds. “You make me feel s-so good.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to finally release, the combined sensations of his thumb rubbing against your clit and his rock-hard outline against your lower lips enough to turn you into a whimpering mess before him, his name rolling off your tongue like honey, until your hips stutter against his, and you briefly fall into a placid state between his arms.

When you come to again, the feeling of his raging cock beneath you is enough to make your legs tremble again, but Chanyeol doesn’t let it go any further just yet.

“You were so good for me, baby,” he murmurs as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder, before grabbing your chin between his fingers to press his lips to yours. His mouth is still as hot as it was before, and you melt into his touch, running both hands through his light hair and tugging until he’s moaning against your lips, his hips slowly stirring beneath you.

You pull away with a loud pop, quickly pressing your lips against the corner of his jaw, and sucking a light bruise onto the hot skin. “Well,” he sighs, voice airy, “that solves one problem.”

You bite down hard, yet Chanyeol still laughs.

#park chanyeol smut #park chanyeol imagine #pcy smut #pcy imagine #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol smut #mine #whew boy i wrote this all in two hours #a bitch is struggling!!!#my eyesight!!! none existent #exo fic

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blessed-but-distressed · 6 years

Text

Blindspot 3/3

A short CS AU three-parter based on a prompt by @shady-swan-jones. A mutual pining, roommates kind of prompt. And who am I to deny?

also on ff.net

“Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, talk to her? Clear the air?”

This wasn’t the first time Emma had suggested this. Not by a long shot. But their kitchen was now about 90% peony, and something had to give. Preferably the peonies.

Ruby grimaced. “Emma, I love you, but if we couldn’t bring ourselves to talk on a nine-hour non-refundable train ride through the alps, do you really think we’re going to start now?”

She had a point. But Emma could think of at least twenty newly delivered reasons why it might be worth giving it a shot.

Whatever had happened before The World’s Most Awkward Non-Refundable Holiday, clearly someone was eager to make amends. Unless of course Dorothy was under the mistaken impression Ruby suffered from hayfever, and was attempting slow torture, one arrangement at a time. Somehow Emma doubted it.

“You sure you don’t want to try, like, actual healthy adult communication? It seems to be working for Killian and Belle.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Emma asked.

“Get that pinched look whenever you say her name. With this crease right between your eyebrows. Right here.”

Emma slapped her hand away.

“You don’t like her, do you?” Ruby said, as though this somehow confirmed a long-held suspicion of hers.

“What?” Emma blustered. “Of course I like her. What’s not to like? She’s sweet and nice and god, her pancakes. It’s just…”

“She’s sleeping with the guy you’re carrying a torch for?” Ruby finished, all innocence.

Nail. Head.

But it wasn’t like she was going to tell Ruby that. Ruby, who regularly came home tanked. Ruby, who had always been a very honest drunk. Ruby, who liked to sit up with Killian at all hours on the weekends, playing cards and gambling away household chores.

It was not a good combination.

“A torch? Me? Hey, no one’s carrying any torch here!”

“Oh, c’mon!” Ruby snorted. “You’ve had a raging Maglite for the guy as long as I’ve known you. And look, I get it, okay? He’s got that whole tall, dark and broody thing going on, and it’s working for him. And we’ve all caught him leaving the bathroom in that towel that’s just a little too small on him. But if you didn’t like seeing him with his girlfriend, don’t you think maybe you should have, I don’t know, told him how you felt? You had three whole years do to it in!”

Not. Helping.

But Ruby was on a roll now. “No, instead you chose to go out with that jerk from the furniture store. The one I thought looked kind of like a monkey. And that writer guy…”

“August,” Emma supplied.

“Right,” Ruby continued. “You keep going out with all these deadbeats you don’t even really care about. Because when it ends, and with those guys it’s definitely just a matter of when, you get to just brush yourself off and go, ‘oh well, I tried,’ and you never actually have to risk getting your heart broken again.”

Any way you sliced it, Ruby was ruined as a waitress. With those kind of insights, she should’ve been sitting in a fancy office, charging $250 an hour to see into people’s heads.

But no, Emma wasn’t going to tell her that. Not when Ruby was so right. Not when denial, her old friend, was so readily available as an easy out.

“I liked August!” Emma protested.

“Uh huh. So when he sold that script and moved to California, approximately how long did you spend considering going with him?”

Of course she hadn’t considered it. Los Angeles, was, well… Los Angeles. And her life was in Boston. Her job. Her friends. Killian-

Shit.

Ruby had her dead to rights, and she knew it. And that self-satisfied smile wasn’t helping.

“You know what I did after my first date with Dorothy?” Ruby said suddenly, interrupting Emma’s shame spiral.

“Text me all of the gory, gory details?” Emma supplied, remembering just how gory.

Ruby waved her hand dismissively. “I mean after that. You know what I did?”

“What?”

“I went on Pinterest and started looking at wedding themes.”

Emma opened her mouth, but nothing came out. That is, that was…

“So unlike me, right?” Ruby said, rolling her eyes. “But I just knew, you know? She was it. Still is it.” She made a face. “I should call her, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emma said, stretching her hands wide to take in the peonies that now occupied every available surface of their apartment.

“Fine,” Ruby relented. “I’ll call her. But you have to tell Killian how you feel.”

“Rubes! That’s not anywhere near the same thing. For one thing, we live together. And let’s not forget he has a girlfriend.”

“Actually,” came a deeper voice from the doorway, “He doesn’t.”

Please don’t be, please don’t be… It was Killian. Leaning oh-so-casually against the door jamb, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

Did he have to look like he’d just stumbled out of an ad for Levis right now?

Ruby had never exactly been one for subtlety. Between the hair and the cleavage and the everything, you somehow knew not to expect it. But when she made a big show of getting up and leaving the two of them there, alone, Emma still kinda wished she could have one friend who could be chill for like, two seconds.

The one saving grace was that when Ruby slipped into the hallway, she already had her phone in her hand. If Emma had to meet her humiliating end, and that was a dead certainty, at least it would be in service of making their apartment peony-free.

Only once Ruby’s footsteps had died away did Killian finally heave himself up into a standing position, his attention still keenly fixated on her.

There was only one thing for it, Emma had to go on the offense.

“So I hope you’re not going to miss living in a greenhouse, because I give it three hours and Ruby and Dorothy are back on. Goodbye apology flowers, hello having to announce yourself before you walk into rooms, because you know what they’re-”

“Swan-”

“Which I guess is better than the flowers. In some ways. I mean, it’s gross, obviously. But at least I’ll be able to get to the coffee maker without-”

“Swan.”

He’d taken Ruby’s empty chair now, and Emma felt herself bite her lip, to stop even more of the babble from spilling out.

“How much did you hear?” Emma asked, her voice a lot more shaky than she’d like.

“Raging Maglite?” he repeated. His amused tone was reassuring enough, but his words? Not so much.

Shit.

“You and Belle broke up?”

“Aye,” he said, one hand reaching up to scratch behind one ear. “A few weeks ago now. You might’ve noticed, but you’ve been hard to pin down lately. Extra hours and what not.”

An intentional choice, on her part. Sure, she needed the money. But there was also only so much domestic bliss one person could accidentally walk in on. Taking a few extra diner shifts seemed like the more responsible choice than dragging her sorry ass to the nearest bar and drowning her sorrows, night after night.

“You okay?”

It wasn’t what Emma really wanted to know. Sure, she cared about the guy. About his well-being. That’s what had started this whole mess, after all. But the larger part of her was just dying to know why? Had he broken it off? Had she? Did Belle think scruffy, intelligent, piercing-eyed Brits just grew on trees?

“Aye. Just not meant to be.”

The smart thing would have been to leave it alone. Change the subject right quick, and then get all the details off Ruby later. Emma Swan was not all the smart.

“So it was a mutual decision, then?”

At this, Killian made a noise. A not exactly kind of noise. “It was mutual in that she pointed out, quite rightly, that she could do a lot better than a guy who’s completely hung up on his flatmate. And I agreed.”

If there was any oxygen left in that room, it sure didn’t feel like it. Emma felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He didn’t- He couldn’t-

“You’re hung up on Ruby?” she managed, her jokey tone taking a brittle turn half way through.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he said, reaching across to take her hand in his.

It was everything she’d ever wanted, and also everything she was deathly afraid of, all in one innocuous gesture. She wanted to throw up. Or cry. Mostly cry. She settled for keeping her hand steady, even as he drew it up to his mouth. Even as he pressed his lips to the skin above her knuckles. Even as every cell in her body turned to liquid.

“Me?”

He was still holding her hand when he smiled again, his thumb rubbing small circles into her palm. “Aye, love. It’s always been you.”

“Always?”

“Well, at least since the first time I accidentally drank one of your fancy beers, and you nearly took my head off. Or the time you forgot your towel coming out of the bathroom. That was also a particular highlight.”

Stupidly in love with him or not, he still got a whack on the arm for that. And it was just that little shot of normality that gave Emma the courage to form her next words.

“You’re not kidding about this? I mean, you’re serious. About us?”

“Deathly serious. And I know, I know I should have said something sooner, but you always had some perfectly average bloke hanging around, and I figured you weren’t interested. And when I met Belle at the library I thought you were still with that Walsh fellow and-

He didn’t get further than that. Not with Emma’s hands rough on his collar, dragging her towards him. It was bad enough she’d practically climbed up onto the table to eliminate any remaining space between them, but he didn’t seem to mind, not when she ducked her head and kissed him for all she was worth.

Three years was a long time to think about kissing someone. Emma had plenty of ideas up her sleeve.

When they did eventually break apart, breaths ragged and Ruby’s excitable squeals kind of ruining the mood, she stayed close, her forehead pressed to his.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, right, Jones?”

“Are you kidding, Swan? Ruby would kill me if I did.”

The both looked across to where Ruby stood by the stove, her FaceTime conversation with Dorothy still in progress, a smug smile pasted across her face. “Yep. What he said.”

#cs ff #cs au #cs fic #cs roommates au #blindspot

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