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offtopicoverload · 3 years

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Get Lucky

so i totally forgot about this request from @renluthor for like. two months, terribly sorry, but i finally finished it lmao. bit different than what we had discussed, but i had a lot of fun with it and think it turned out decent enough, hope you enjoy it also idk how to tag on ao3, i hope this works fine

M Rating (still suck at rating, there's drinking and kissing so)

Zoey x MC (Bea)

~1700 words (still pretty short since i cant seem to get my word count up rn but im also not that fussed)

Read on Ao3

Bea Hughes stands in the middle of Belvoire’s quad on her first day at the school, staring down a snarling beast, some bitch named Poppy that’s really starting to get on her nerves. “You know what, Poppy?” she snarks, “I’m really going to enjoy tearing you down. Something tells me nobody likes you half as much as you like yourself.” She pauses, glancing around before her gaze lands on some frat bro, “Michael, how often does Poppy call you an idiot?”

He frowns, face downcast, “Every day. My therapist says it isn’t good to surround myself with people who bring me down, but my parents are friends with Poppy’s and -”

“Oh my god, nobody asked to be invited to your pity party, Michael!” Poppy shouts, effectively cutting him off with a stamp of her foot.

Bea’s scowl grows, “You know what nobody asked to be invited to? Poppy’s Daily Bitch-Fest. Death by migraine would be more pleasant.”

“Oh, you haven’t even seen Poppy’s Daily Bitch-Fest,” her eyes narrow at Bea dangerously, “But if you’d like a demonstration, by all means, be my guest of -”

“Hey Bea! Look at the time, we gotta go!” Someone takes hold of Bea’s wrist, tugging her along and away from the crowd, from Michael, and from Poppy and her glare. She’s pulled into a sprint across the lawn, running wildly until they’re inside a dorm and standing before some door.

“Wish the circumstances were different, but welcome to the Winfrey dorm complex, aka your new home!” The girl lets Bea’s wrist drop back to her side, gesturing widely with one hand as she fumbles to unlock the door with the other.

She finally succeeds, throwing the door open and ushering Bea inside, the door slamming shut behind them. Bea’s eyes immediately rove over the expensive decor and nice furniture of the huge dorm she’s somehow stumbled upon.

The girl collapses on a couch, kicking her feet up as she looks over to Bea, “So, you got out of that one alive. Barely,” she adds under her breath. “How are you feeling?”

Bea follows suit, slumping down on the opposite side, toying with the hem of her shirt distractedly. “Honestly, you’re gorgeous,” she shrugs, watching the fabric slide between her fingertips. She freezes, slowly glancing to Zoey, “...is what I was thinking, but did I just say it out loud?”

A laugh bursts from Zoey, her head falling back, “You did, and you’re absolutely, positively right. Not to mention easy on the eyes yourself,” she grins, winking at Bea, before sticking her hand out. “I’m Zoey Wade, your roomie,” she shakes Bea’s hand when their palms meet, “This right here is our dorm. Your room’s on the left, mine’s on the right.”

“Okay,” Bea responds abruptly, sinking into the cushions and crossing her arms beneath her chest. “Okay,” she repeats.

Zoey glances over to her, “Are you okay?”

Bea’s eyes flicker to her dark ones, “Yes. Yes, because I got lucky on the roommate front,” she smiles, albeit somewhat forced.

“That you did,” Zoey smiles right back. “In fact, I know the perfect place to get you off campus until the hype dies down.” she jumps to her feet, crossing to the front door before Bea can even react.

She scrambles to her feet, nearly tripping on the corner of the coffee table, “Wait!” Zoey spins as she swings the door open, winking before disappearing down the corner, Bea nearly sprinting to catch up.

---

An hour later, Bea and Zoey are sitting in a dim corner of a Soho speakeasy, soft music and conversation buzzing in the background. Half-drunk Manhattans sit before them, their own voices adding to the soft din of chatter flowing in the space.

“How’d you find this place?” Bea inquires curiously, her eyes scanning the building and its patrons. It’s cozy and warm, the inviting atmosphere a sharp contrast to Belvoire’s intimidating one.

“Connections,” Zoey’s shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug, unbothered as she scrolls her phone.

“Whose?”

Zoey looks up from her phone, gaze meeting Bea’s as she smirks, “Can’t spill all my secrets on the first day, babe.”

“Why not?” Bea challenges, one eyebrow quirked.

Zoey’s phone is set face down on the table as she looks at Bea mysteriously, smiling secretively, “As sweet as you are, I always need a few cards up my sleeve.”

“How many you got?”

“I’ll never tell,” she winks, in what Bea is quickly learning to be her default.

“I thought the whole point of coming here was to learn more about each other, roomie,” Bea counters pointedly.

Zoey shakes her head, leaning back against the booth, “The point of coming here is avoiding the campus harpy that goes by the name of Poppy.”

“So you don’t want to get to know me? Or let me get to know you?”

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll tell you something.”

Bea just her bottom lip out in a pout, her eyes wide and innocent as she blinks up at Zoey. She only smiles coyly in return, drinking her cocktail as Bea deflates, sighing and slumping backwards.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” Zoey hums from the back of her throat.

Bea grins before schooling her expression into something flirtatious, “I’m hoping I’ll get luckier.”

Zoey laughs at that, just as loud and unrestrained as back in their dorm, “Nice try. At least buy me a drink first.”

“I’ll buy you the whole bar, how about that?”

“I’ll take another Manhattan for now,” Zoey laughs, sinking back into the booth as Bea jumps up, weaving through the speakeasy’s crowd to get back to the bar.

She returns a few minutes later, wiggling the drinks in her hands enticingly with a wide grin on her lips. She slides back into her seat, sipping her own bright coloured cocktail as she looks to Zoey.

“So what made you want to come to Belvoire? Long way from home, right?” Zoey plays with her drink, scraping a cherry off a toothpick with her front teeth.

Bea shrugs, “It’s a good school, and I thought it’d be fun to try something new… But now I’m mixed up in petty drama,” a sigh shifts her shoulders, Zoey stilling her absentminded fidgeting.

“Petty drama, maybe, but you’re making a name for yourself,” she nudges Bea with her elbow. “That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

“So you don’t think I’m totally screwed?”

“Hmm,” one carefully manicured nail taps Zoey’s chin. “I give it ten to one odds,” she finally decides, smiling sweetly across the table.

Bea frowns, a dent forming between her brows as the girl across from her’s smile grows in amusement, “Those aren’t good odds.”

“But there’s still a chance. Look, I know I don’t know you very well, but you seem like the type to pull it off.”

“Seems like you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“And what if I was?”

“I guess I’d wonder if there was a reason for it.”

“Can’t a cute girl be reason enough?”

Bea lets her gaze rake over Zoey suggestively, “I suppose so.”

“See? You’re smart, you’ll be fine,” she encourages. “Probably.”

“Ugh,” with a groan, Bea’s head falls forward, forehead crashing against the table.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Zoey chastises above her, “No moping.”

Bea turns, her cheek pressing into the wood, “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re going to dance,” Zoey announces, standing with her palms flat on the tabletop. She cocks her head at Bea expectantly, sauntering out to the dancefloor when Bea takes the hint, popping up and chasing behind her.

The dance floor's more crowded than anywhere else, couples and friend groups moving in unison to the beat thundering through the air. Zoey whirls around, dancing to the peppy song currently playing until Bea’s joined her, swinging her hips and throwing her arms about carelessly.

The song’s change, the crowd moves as one, and the pair spin and jump and whirl, Zoey taking Bea’s hands and twirling her until she’s laughing and dizzy. Time ticks past until they’re both breathless and sweaty, leaning against one another for support.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Zoey chuckles, her breath brushing Bea’s cheek, goosebumps breaking across her skin.

A grin breaks Bea’s lips too, relaxed and somewhat tired, “Right back atcha.”

Zoey throws her arm over Bea’s shoulders, fingers knitting behind her neck as she looks down at the shorter girl, her messy hair and gleaming eyes, her smudged lipstick and shining teeth. One hand retracts, the pad of her thumb swiping lightly beneath Bea’s lips, cleaning up the mess on her skin.

Bea’s breath hitches, her eyes widening in the dim lighting of the speakeasy, glued to Zoey’s dark ones as they shift over parted lips. “Hey, Bea?” she whispers, thumb still ghosting over Bea’s skin.

“Yeah?” she whispers back, the exhale skimming Zoey’s skin now.

“Are you still trying to get lucky?”

“God yes,” she groans.

Zoey bends down, letting her lips softly graze Bea’s, just barely making contact. Smudged lips chase hers, Zoey smiling before Bea’s palms are on her cheeks, tugging her downwards, her own thumbs brushing along high cheekbones.

Zoey’s hands find her hips, pulling her closer until they’re bodies fit together, only heat between them under the lights. Zoey nips at Bea’s bottom lip, the shorter girl gasping against her lips, Zoey’s tongue slipping past them.

Time ticks past, the mass of people surrounding them lost in a haze, heat the only thing discernible. The break apart after a short moment, unconsciously swaying to the music together, getting caught up in the rhythm, sucked into the thudding bass.

“We should probably head back to campus,” Zoey murmurs after another song fades out.

Bea’s head lolls to the taller girl’s shoulder, a groan spilling from her throat, “Mm, do we have to?”

A familiar chuckle explodes from Zoey’s chest, “Yeah, maybe you’ll find a four-leaf clover along the way. Get even luckier.”

Bea pulls back, her eyes eager as they meet Zoey’s and the remaining laughter in them. “Okay, let’s go!” she grabs Zoey’s hand on her hip, tugging her through the crowd and out the door, pulling her along this time. Her laughter rings behind Bea as she barrels down the street, New York’s lights illuminating her way.

#i know i said id post this yesterday but then i got to editing and decided. no #zoey wade #zoey x mc #queen b #choices fanfic #playchoices #qb basa #i feel like this is very weird and i can’t tell why???#like just different style ig???

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offtopicoverload · 3 years

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Bad at Sleeping Alone

A late night ficlet for the real Queen B, Zoey, that I didn't actually write at night this time. But here it is anyway, since I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Starts at Chapter 10

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~3k words

Zoey and Bea are bad at sleeping alone. Like, really bad at it. Like, so bad that they just... can’t. Not unless there’s someone with them. But that someone can only be each other, mind you. And the weirdest part of it? They’ve never had this problem before, never needed someone there, one person specifically. And, actually, maybe the weirdest part is that it really didn’t even start happening until the whole Benji incident took place.

Bea had been shaken to her core after it happened, glassy eyed and numb to the world as Zoey hugged her and comforted her, turning on her favorite movies and shows, ordering pizza and her favorite snacks, and burying Bea in a mountain of fluffy blankets on the couch. They’d stayed up all of that night, to the point that Zoey was almost falling asleep in her classes the next day while taking her notes.

Zoey had spent the night laughing at the bad movies they always loved, and Bea would force a smile whenever Zoey glanced at her, but not a single one of them reached her eyes that night. Zoey had gorged on sweets and snacks all night, nearly making herself sick on pizza and ice cream, but the most Bea managed was a single slice, only taking bites when Zoey asked if she was feeling okay.

The night was long and odd, and Zoey tried her best to make it normal, but it just couldn’t be, not when Bea still had a haunted look in her eyes and refused to let Zoey turn off even a single light; it was like she was suddenly afraid of the tiniest amount of darkness. But Bea Hughes wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all something so trivial and childish as the dark.

But Zoey obliged all the same, she even went around and flicked on every single light in their dorm, even ones they couldn’t see when night fell, the darkness seeping through the windows that Bea checked were locked three or four times before sitting down. Every time she sat down. If she got up to the bathroom she turned on her phone’s flashlight, even with every lightbulb on its brightest setting, and made her rounds of every window and the front door, checking and testing the locks until she was satisfied.

And to make things even weirder, Bea didn’t even want to sleep when Zoey asked, shaking her head furiously and stumbling over an explanation, an excuse that she was just having fun. So neither of them slept a wink, even though they were sat directly next to one another the whole time, Bea inching closer as the hours dragged on.

---

Zoey offered to binge whatever Bea wanted the next night, too, but Bea refused, saying she should get some sleep, so Zoey conceded. She went to bed easily, wrapped up in her comforter and sheets as Bea sat down the hall, laying in bed with as much light as she could create and staring at the ceiling blankly, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, grabbed her phone and earbuds and blasted music until she couldn’t hear anything, until she could scroll her phone and get lost in social media and pointless rivalries that kicked her while she was down.

When the sun started to rise, she dragged herself from under the layers and stalked into the common area, settling herself in the corner of the kitchen, back to the counter so she could keep an eye on the entirety of the massive open space until Zoey woke up. And she did, after an hour or so, joining Bea in drinking coffee with a smile.

Bea forced a smile back, finishing off her third cup of coffee quickly, and left to get ready for the day, automatically feeling better with Zoey nearby. Maybe it helped because Zoey had threatened him with stilettos and kitchen knives numerous times, and of all people, Zoey was most likely to actually go through with it on Bea’s behalf.

The cycle repeated itself the next night, Bea attempting to drown out and hide from the shadows that her worst nightmare could be lurking in while Zoey slept soundly in the same dorm. Bea downed five cups the next morning, grabbing more throughout the day to get through her classes and keep her mind sharp enough to avoid the devil incarnate and her mindless minions.

On the fourth day, Bea planned to continue her routine, even if the bags under her eyes had been begging for release from under pounds of concealer. Except for one thing, one disastrous thing: Cutiepie had gotten her earbuds and destroyed them. Both pairs, too, bluetooth and wired.

She sunk to the floor, staring at the mess of wires before her and felt pressure building at the back of her eyes, the last few days finally catching up to her, finally feeling real and scary and like she was hopelessly, absolutely, without a doubt alone. A few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks before she wiped them away with her sleeve.

It was already late, she had stayed on the couch with the TV on as long as she could, letting cheesy television fill the room until the empty space became too much to bear and she bolted for her room, praying she hadn’t woken Zoey with how panickedly she slammed her door. And now her one defense has been ripped to shreds by her stupidly cute dog.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, banishing the tears away and struggled to her feet. She dusted herself off, already dressed in pajamas since she got home and knew she didn’t want to leave, not unless she has to, and slipped under the covers. She wanted to sleep, she really did. But she felt as if it would make her so vulnerable, being unaware and unconscious. She felt as if it would make his job easier, that he could slip in and she’d never see, that she’d die alone, not even with her own thoughts to accompany her.

She curled in on her side, pulling the comforter over her head as she tried to block out the world, but when she opened her eyes, it was so dark beneath the fabric. Too dark. She threw the comforter back, the lights of the room bathing her in yellow, yellow she never wanted to be without. She took a deep breath to calm herself, searching the room for anything out of the ordinary. And, satisfied that there truly wasn’t anything, she fell back to her pillow, snuggled into the sheets, and stared at her wall, her hammering heart slowing in her chest the whole while.

Crash.

Something fell or was smashed or broke or Bea didn’t even know what, but something loud exploded, and it sounded like it came from right outside her window. She jumped out of bed, nearly slipping on the floor as she glanced around wildly, looking for the source of the noise. She didn’t find anything, though whether that was because of her blurred vision or the fact that there was nothing, she wasn’t sure.

That was it, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t try to sleep and she couldn’t be alone. She just couldn’t do this.

She huffed, ran her hands through her hair, and squeezed her eyes shut tight, willing something to change. Maybe if she squeezed hard enough she’d open her eyes and find out nothing had ever happened, that he didn’t exist or she never even went to Belvoire in the first place. No, that’s stupid, because then she never would have met Zoey.

Zoey. That’s been her lifeline, right? That’s who was always there for her, even when she had no reason to be? Oh god, Bea’s a nuisance, isn’t she? A pest, unwanted and irritating.

But she had no other options, not anymore, not when she’s scared out of her skin and exhausted, not when even copious amounts of caffeine hadn’t been able to keep her coherent and fully awake these past few days.

She heaved a deep sigh, grabbed a blanket off her bed, and trudged out of her room in the direction of Zoey’s own. She steeled herself before entering, heaving another deep sigh and turned the handle, nerves eating away at her.

---

“Zoey?” A quiet voice called out into the dark, small and worried as it floated over to the sleeping woman wrapped in her sheets.

“Hmm?” she hummed, shifting and pressing her face further into her pillow, sleepy and not even a quarter awake.

The voice grew bolder, louder as it echoed in the dark, “Are you awake?”

Zoey forced her eyes open, finding darkness ahead of her. She blinked into it, working to clear her sleep-induced haze, and turned over her shoulder, finding a shadowed halo of Bea with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders standing in the doorway, mass amounts of light filtering in the room. “Bea?” she called into the dark.

The shadow nodded, “I’m sorry, I just…” she took a deep breath, “I can’t sleep,” she whispered into the dark, pulling her blanket tighter around herself and dipping her head.

Zoey sat up, shifting to face Bea better, “How come, babe? What’s wrong?” Her voice was worn down by sleep, but she still forced it out.

“It’s… I haven’t been able to sleep since the whole... thing,” Bea murmured quietly.

Zoey’s mind whirred as her awareness grew, eyes nearly bugging out of her head as she did the math, “It’s been four days! Bea, have you not slept in four days?!” she couldn’t help the incredulous from her voice.

The shadow nodded, the light from behind it shifting with it. Zoey balked into the dark, bewildered and confused about how Bea could go four days without sleeping, and even more confused how she could go four days without telling her.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” Bea’s quiet, small, wavering and nervous voice called into the dark again, the shadowed figure shuffling awkwardly in the doorway.

Zoey had to stop herself from laughing in pure disbelief, “Yes!” She wrangled her volume, “Yes. Of course. Are you kidding? Get over here,” Zoey shifted across the mattress, leaving plenty of space for Bea to crawl in beside her.

And she did just that, slipping beneath the covers as Zoey held them open for her, laying on her side to face Zoey in the dark, the door still open. But Zoey knew enough not to comment, and simply wiggled closer, throwing her arm across Bea’s side.

She cuddled into Zoey, her head pressing into her chest as Zoey’s arm tightened around her, holding her tighter and softly combing through her hair, the shifting rhythm of Bea’s breath raising her chest with each inhale. Zoey glanced down after a long moment, only to find Bea’s eyelids shut and her breathing slow and steady as she dozed off.

---

Then it started happening more regularly, Bea slipping into Zoey’s room in the middle of the night, nudging her awake until she let Bea in. Until Bea stopped asking, just crossing to the other side and cuddling up to a fast asleep Zoey. And Zoey didn’t mind those nights when she went to sleep alone and woke up to Bea beside her, because Zoey found it a little amusing and Bea needed it.

Zoey knew it helped, that she felt better being with someone, that it was probably the only way she could even sleep for a while. But she also knew that Bea didn’t want to talk about it, not when the conversation would inevitably circle back to why she couldn’t sleep on her own in the first place. So Zoey never brought it up, simply got out of bed and started her day, greeting Bea in the kitchen after she slipped out.

Except one night, after maybe three weeks of this routine, Bea didn’t sneak into Zoey’s room, didn’t slip under the covers, and didn't wrap herself around Zoey quietly. Zoey woke up to cold sheets, red flags flying before her eyes before she was even fully conscious. She glanced to her alarm clock, 3:06 printed in red block letters on it.

She slipped out from under the covers, padding across her room and out the open door until she reached Bea’s room, carefully pulling the door open. Bea was stretched out on her comforter, head buried in her arm with textbooks and papers strewn about and Cutiepie sprawled at the foot of the bed.

Zoey sighed, stepping further into the room and walked to the bed, gathering papers and textbooks and set them on Bea’s desk until the bed was cleared, save for Cutiepie and Bea. She pulled the sheets back from beneath Bea, pulling them over her sleeping form when they were clear of her body.

She turned, scratching Cutiepie on the head before leaving the room and walked back to her own, slipping under her covers. She faced the dark ceiling for what felt like an eternity, urging her body to just slip from consciousness. It didn’t work, her mind wide awake, even as she forced her eyes shut and tossed and turned incessantly.

She huffed, sat up and stared into the dark in frustration before she left her room for the second time tonight, right back to Bea’s, too. She scratched Cutiepie on the head again as she passed him, stopping on the opposite side to Bea. She crawled under the comforter, squirmed close to Bea, and buried her face in the loose hair haloed around her head, falling asleep sooner than she did earlier in the night, exactly as she expected.

---

And so it continues, Zoey and Bea switching between their rooms every night, adding the couch on weekends when they spent hours staring at the television screen. They always woke up in different positions, their limbs tangled together from their sleep.

Bea curled into Zoey’s side seemed to be the most common, their arms flung around each other and draped across laps. Sometimes Zoey was leaned against Bea, her head on her shoulder and arms wrapped around her bicep tightly, a vice grip on Bea. Sometimes one of their heads landed in the other’s lap, fingers combing through their hair until they drifted off. Sometimes they woke up stacked on top of each other, Bea curled up with her head on Zoey’s chest or Zoey with her face buried in the crook of Bea’s shoulder.

One time Zoey had fallen asleep stretched out on the couch before Bea got home, the TV still playing faintly before her as she faded off, wrapped tight in a blanket. She woke up in the middle of the night to Bea sitting in front of the couch, her head dropped back against the couch cushions in front of Zoey’s chest, her mouth hanging open as she slept. Zoey stuck her finger in her gaping mouth until Bea woke up and started gagging while Zoey laughed hysterically until she couldn’t breathe.

The next time it happened, Bea’s mouth was shut, her side against the front of the couch as she slept with her legs bent at the knee and arms curled before her chest. Zoey had woken up in the early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up. She glanced around, looking for something to keep her occupied and decided on playing with Bea’s hair to wake her up, gently this time, so they could get their weekly Saturday breakfast.

---

The week after Poppy’s sick and twisted human sacrifice, neither Bea nor Zoey got any decent sleep, and most of what they did manage was simply the result of pure exhaustion and frustration. At one point or another, each of them stood outside the other’s door in the middle of the night, contemplating turning the handle beneath their palm. But Zoey didn’t want to give in and Bea didn’t even know what to do if she did turn it, so they both turned away and slunk back to their own room.

After the first few sleepless nights, Bea starts spending every night on the couch, praying she’ll catch Zoey somehow and miraculously find the words to tell her how sorry she is and how stupid she was for thinking she would have had time, for thinking things would turn out okay at that godforsaken party. She sits with Cutiepie in her lap, scratching his belly and working through all the papers she needs to grade for Kingsley or all her stupid assignments that just keep piling up.

But not once does she spot Zoey, does she find an opportunity to weasel her way back into her life. And every time she thinks about it like that, she can’t help but feel like a pest again, and then all she wants to do is apologise profusely for everything and leave Zoey alone for good. But she actually has to figure out how to say all that, as well as find her chance, and so the cycle repeats, a vicious, cruel, constant cycle.

To make matters worse, Zoey knows how to avoid her, even if she hates doing it, even if she hates that she has to, and even if she loathes that she’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t even sleep without Bea being there. She spends most of her time in her room, studying even though she doesn’t need to, scrolling her phone and noting a clear absence of anything Bea-related, and binging shows that were on her and Bea’s combined to-watch list.

Zoey knows Bea’s schedule, knows her classes and how early she leaves every morning. She knows when she sneaks back into the dorm thinking she’ll catch Zoey out of her room, knows what classes she’s willing to skip if it means finding Zoey sitting at the kitchen counter.

She knows everything about Bea, even the bad and annoying things, like how she hates raspberries and won’t drink hot coffee. How she mumbles in her sleep and refuses to wear socks to bed even though her feet are always freezing. Zoey knows Bea and Bea knows Zoey.

Bea knows how to crack at her walls, knows the stupid little things that warm her heart, like leaving an iced coffee for Zoey before she leaves every morning and pinning notes to Cutiepie’s collar about how sorry she is whenever Zoey agrees to watch him. And she knows how to win Zoey back, too. She knows to shriek along to a boombox in the courtyard to prove herself, and she knows to hug Zoey tighter than ever when she finally lets her.

Bea knows everything about Zoey, even the embarrassing things, like how she sings musicals in the shower and screams at every single scare in horror movies, even the ones that aren’t scary. She knows that Zoey hates spending time getting ready but loves the finished product, she knows that screaming along to the radio while they do their hair and makeup always makes it better.

They know each other inside and out, better than anyone else on the planet, and at times more than they know themselves. They know each other, and they know to fall back into their previous routine after the fallout, to order pizza and pour wine and laugh at stupidly awful movies until they pass out, Bea’s head on Zoey’s shoulder, with her own on top of Bea’s.

And they know just how bad at sleeping alone they are, how much they hated it and how much they never want to do it again. They know how easy it’s been to fall back into their routine, sneaking into each other’s rooms when it’s dark and leaving as the sun rises, a walk of shame with no reason to be ashamed.

They know it’s slowly changing, too, that they’ve started sneaking in earlier and earlier to talk and vent and just stare at the ceiling together. And they’ve started talking about it, joking in the mornings that Bea doesn’t bring breakfast in bed to impress and apologise for the thousandth time. Some days they don’t even sneak, they just stride into one of their rooms together and collapse on the bed, talking and talking until they decide to get changed and go to sleep, words still filling the space between them until they drift off, wrapped around each other every single night, because they are really, really, really bad at sleeping alone.

#queen b #zoey x mc #zoey wade #choices fanfic #qb basa #first time writing them but i think ill do it again lol #late night ficlet

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