#I actually made this much earlier in the year - I wanna say in June?? But held off on it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rebelrayne · 2 years ago

Text

and the day after that, too

a tom fic (chapter 1) - AO3 or under the cut

Rating: T - Teen

Warning: tears ahead and I will make you love Tom.

In 2016, Summer had a whirlwind romance with a boy with a British accent. He wasn’t very smooth and he wasn’t the tallest guy around, but for those short three months, he was hers.

JUNE 1, 2016

Summer sat out on her balcony watching orange and pink fill the horizon. Many could only dream of the life she lived; her parents had up and moved from land-locked Ocala when she was only seven-years-old to a two-bedroom condo on the beach down in sunny, fun Key West. She sat with one leg propped up on her chair, a cup of coffee in hand, which her mom warned her not to drink so late. She would officially be 18-years-old in a few short hours and that meant come September, she would be living a life different than the beach sun rises and sets.

She heard the smooth woosh of the glass door opening. “Do you wanna watch that new Netflix show “Stranger Things” with me and Daddy?” Her mom leaned against the siding of the doorway with a longing look in her eyes. Many people commented how much Summer looked like her mother; the same golden hair, freckles that danced across from cheek to cheek and short stature. Although it was something that her parents were more likely to say, how did 18 years go by so fast?

“I’m okay,” Summer smiled warmly. “Oh, but can we go see “Me Before You” this weekend?” Summer had plenty of girlfriends who would love to go see the movie but she knew it would make her mom elated to go with Summer to see it. Summer’s dad was a good man, but sappy romance movies were not his thing.

“Of course, we can!” Her mom’s smile broadened. “Love you, Summer.”

“Love you too.” Summer returned her gaze to the sky and the waves. She heard the glass door close again and she let out a sigh. It would be strange to her one day soon when her parents weren’t in such close proximity. Some may think living in a 1200 square foot condo with their parents would be awful as a teenager, but Summer didn’t mind it so much. Her parents were what most of her friends considered to be ‘The Cool Parents,’ since they did own one of the bars down the road.

A loud clang made her jump, a small bit of her coffee spilling on her white tank top. She shot a glance to the balcony next door to find a boy leaning on the railing, brow seemingly furrowed in anger. “Uh, are you okay?” Summer asked with caution.

“Huh?” the boy’s eyes widened as he turned his head to face her.

“Hello,” she said with a wave. “What’d that glass door ever do to you?”

The boy’s face softened, blue eyes shining in the sun’s last moments. “Too clean,” he replied shyly. “I, uh, ran into it earlier.” He shifted his body, now only leaning on his side to face her completely. He moved his weight from one foot to another, his cheeks a light shade of pink.

“Ah, the power of Windex.” She placed her coffee mug on the small table before standing up, heading to the side of the balcony closest to his. “So where’re you from? I gotta ask, considering I’ve only heard British accents from my friends when we’re pretending to fancy.” She leaned on the balcony. “Well, and on TV.” Her smile faded. “Wait, you are British, right?”

He smirked deviously as he ran his fingers through his hair. It looked as if he was trying to be suave, he was trying to be flirtatious, but he fumbled with a small knot in his hair. He pulled his hand from his head and grinned awkwardly. He glanced around and leaned on the railing closest to Summer’s railing, clearing his throat to try and play off the hair failure. “Don’t tell anyone but I’m actually an alien from outer space.”

“Wow,” she responded with an over-the-top playful voice. “I didn’t know aliens were so cute.”

“Oh, uh, I mean… You probably say that to all the boys on holiday,” he chuckled but it was obviously forced to cover his nerves as his face turned bright red.

His reaction made her smile, it made her heart rate quicken in excitement and made her stomach flutter with butterflies. She reached her hand out over the balcony. “I’m Summer, and I definitely only say that to the cute ones with British accents.”

He looked apprehensive for a moment and just stared at her hand. He met her eyes and his lips curved upwards. Then he grabbed her hand. “Tom. Tom Beresford-King. Nice to meet you, Summer.”

“Oh, the full name, too? Fancy.” She giggled, which only seemed to turn Tom’s cheeks an even deeper shade of pink. “I’ll join in. Summer Marie Reynolds.” She took a step back and did a dramatic bow. “Nice to meet you, Tom Beresford-King!” She moved back to the railing and placed her elbows on top, leaning over again. He was cute enough, but seemed so awkwardly and painfully shy. “What brings you to Key West?”

He wouldn’t look her right in the eye but cleared his throat. “Holiday. My parents were looking for investments. Apparently, there’s a bar here that has a lot of promise.”

“Chick’s?” she asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, “and you knew that off the top of your head quite quickly. Are you local?”

“Born and bred in Florida.” She sighed. “Hey, you don’t seem like you’re doing anything tonight. My birthday is tomorrow and my friends are having a bonfire. Want to come?”

He tapped his fingers on the railing as he shot his attention back to her. It was almost as if she could tell he was absolutely shocked that she’d asked him to hang out. Was it bad manners? He seemed harmless enough, plus she could use a distraction from her own life. And would it be so bad if the distraction happened to be a super cute British guy? “You’re asking me to go to a party?” He shook his head. “You’re inviting me to your birthday party?”

“Should I not invite you?” She grinned. “Is this, like, the beginning of a summer horror flick? You gonna murder me and my friends?”

“No! No, I would never.”

“Relax, Tom. I was only kidding.”

Summer noticed him starting to fiddle with his hands, picking at his nails and fingers. “What time?”

She lifted herself up from the balcony and moved her hands up and down, pointing to her shirt. “As soon as I change my shirt,” she said, “we’ll go.”

***

Summer waved to her parents as she headed out the door. She was in a bit of a rush, knowing she had been keeping poor Tom waiting for at least ten minutes outside her door. Her mom rushed after her and squeezed her tightly in a hug and mumbled something about growing up too fast. She laughed at her mom, who seemed overly emotional compared to a short fifteen minutes ago. “Be careful,” her dad called out. Summer knew what it meant though, ‘Be careful’ was really ‘I love you’ in dad language.

She opted to wear a new crop top with a cute oversized cardigan. She wore her faded blue jean shorts with white converse, a coffee-stainless white crop top with a tan knitted cardigan, the one that always seemed to fall off her right shoulder a bit. She closed her front door behind her and found Tom leaning against the wall, between their two front doors. He was in his own world, scrolling through his phone with shaky hands and humming to himself. His brown hair fell over his eyes a bit and somehow, even with the parking lot as the background, he looked more gorgeous than he did out on the balcony.

“Ready to go?” She waved and planted a big smile on her face.

He glanced up with wide, shocked eyes and nodded. He looked speechless as he stared at her. It was a bit cute, she thought, he clearly had the opinion that she was pretty. “Yes, sorry, I was distracted.”

“What? Why would you be sorry? I’m the one who took forever to get ready!” she laughed. She grabbed his hand, which made him gasp. “Come on! I can’t be late to my own birthday party!”

He followed behind her as they headed down the stairs and towards the beach. “I don’t think I’ve asked. How old are you?”

“I’m turning eighteen.” She didn’t head towards the beach but towards the street instead, deciding she didn’t want to wade through the sand.

“Oh, so we’re the same age then. I, uh, turned eighteen last month.”

“So where are you from exactly?”

“Windsor,” he answered, “it’s close to London, if that helps at all.”

“You trying to say I don’t know my geography, Tom?”

He cleared his throat and a nervous giggle escaped his lips. “No, uh, I’m not. It’s, um, just not a town people know much about.”

She turned around and placed her hand on his arm, giggling. “I’m screwing with you, relax!” His muscles tensed up, but she was more than sure it was the nerves. The color washed from his face, telling her that he was not flexing his muscles for her. “Sorry.” She pulled her hand away, feeling a bit terrible. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited a total stranger along with her. What was she even thinking?

He stayed quiet, his head hung a bit. He wasn’t the tallest guy around; he was, maybe, around 5’10”, if she was to guess but he towered over her nonetheless standing at 5’ even. She wondered why someone that looked like he did was so apprehensive, how he could seem so closed off. He kept his eyes pointed at the ground as they walked in complete silence.

It would be her birthday in a couple hours but in a way, she wasn’t really feeling the whole beach party vibe, at least not anymore. She stopped walking, to Tom’s surprise. He took a few more steps before looking over his shoulder at her, guilt written all over his face. “You said you were here because your parents like that bar, right?” He nodded. “Want to go?” She pointed across the street, the neon lights glowing in the night.

***

“There’s no way!” She stared at Tom with her eyes and mouth wide open. “I don’t believe you.”

Tom lifted his water to his mouth and took a gulp. He chuckled softly and leaned back in his seat. “I wish I was kidding,” he said as he stared at his glass. “But it’s true. His parents were out of town and we threw this massive bash.” Summer placed her hand over her mouth. The boy was so clearly out of his realm, sitting in her parents’ hole-in-the-wall bar. “I had too much to drink, which was entirely my fault for thinking I should drink out of the bottle.”

“I know we just met,” she said, “but I cannot see you walking around a house with your hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle.” The vision of Tom yelling with a bottle of Grey Goose held over his head was humorous to her, she couldn’t help but giggle trying to imagine it. “How’d your friend even manage to get ahold of your clothes, Tommy boy?”

He huffed a light laugh, clearly amused by the nickname she’d given him. “I, uh, sort of passed out in the bathroom. Tolly and a couple others thought it’d be a right laugh to take my clothes and hide them.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “They did leave my boxers thankfully.” He bit his lip and gave her an awkward smile, which was a bit cute. “Anyway, I had to walk across campus like that the next morning. I got a ton of wolf whistles, too.”

Can’t blame them there, Summer thought to herself. She wasn’t normally the girl that had a crush so quickly, especially with someone she hardly knew. There was something calming about his presence though, it was almost as if she’d known him for years. She leaned herself back and glanced him up and down as he gave her a look of confusion. “You know, I can’t say I blame them.”

He blushed again. It was becoming one of her favorite pastimes, making him flustered. “You’re a right charmer, aren’t you?” He wrapped his hand around his glass again and studied it. “Ah, you probably say that to everyone.” It didn’t sound like he meant to say it out loud. How could someone who looked the way he did be so not used to hearing things like that?

“A charmer, yes,” she answered, “but I do not say that to everyone. Ask anyone around, they’ll tell you the same: Summer Reynolds is hard to pin down.” She glanced towards the bottles in front of her behind the bar. It was Wednesday night, which meant the bartenders would be lenient with her sitting right at the bar. While she was the owners’ daughter, they still wouldn’t let her be front and center on a weekend night, especially being underaged. She flagged one of the bartenders down. “Barry! My favorite bartender!”

Barry grumbled a bit but laughed. “Summer, my favorite owners’ daughter.” He walked over slowly, pausing in front of the teenagers. His eyes shifted between the two while he continued to dry a glass with a bar mop. “Guess I should say happy early birthday, right?”

“The best gift would be a drink! Please, Barry? Pretty, pretty please?” She let her lower lip quiver as she pouted jokingly. “And one for my friend, Tom.” Summer lifted her hand and placed it on Tom’s arm. He jumped slightly, stiffening and sitting up a bit straighter upon her touch. She knew she was making him nervous, but the way he reacted made her realize that he had no idea that he had the same effect on her.

“What’ll it be Summer’s friend, Tom?” Barry asked. He kept an intense gaze on Tom.

“Um, maybe a Tom Collins?” He sounded unsure of his response. Summer wondered if Tom even knew what he had just ordered.

Barry stared back with a dazed and puzzled look. He placed the glass he was drying on a rack underneath the bar and narrowed his eyes at Tom. He clearly had no idea what Tom had ordered. “Just give him a Gin and Tonic, Barry,” Summer suggested. “Make it two, please because you’re the absolute best!”

“You can have one and you’ll be staying here until after midnight, kid.” Barry kept his eyes on Tom, almost like a concerned father would. Summer had a feeling her dad would be asking about who this British boy was that all his employees were talking about.

And they did. They stayed and they talked all night, even after midnight. Tom was nothing that she would have imagined for herself. He was timid, he was shy, he was easily flustered. But at the same time, he was brave, he was sweet and she was easily flustered by every move he made.

She grabbed his hand out on the sidewalk, maybe a block away from the condo building. She almost expected him to pull his hand away but he squeezed it in return. Barry had made the drinks so light, she was sure that he didn’t put any alcohol in it at all. She didn’t even drink very much of it. She didn’t need to, she was certain she was drunk on the cute British boy she’d taken on a tour of her town. “What’d you think of the bar?”

“It was cozy,” he said. “So it’s your family’s establishment?” He spoke so eloquently, she thought. The way the neon lights hit his gorgeous blue eyes, with the mixture of the faint moonlight out on the street, she was hooked. He had no idea she was hooked.

They started up the stairs to their doors, which made her heart sink. The night was over and she was stupid enough to think this could even go anywhere. Of course the first time she truly wanted to get to know someone, it would be a boy from overseas who wouldn’t stay long enough. “Yeah, it’s my parents’ bar.” She paused at her front door but he didn’t let go of her hand. The two of them stood in front of one another, both unsure of the next move they should take.

Tom took a long but somehow, shallow breath then chewed at his bottom lip nervously. She took a step closer, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She’d be leaving in September for college, he’d be going back to Windsor at the same time. She shouldn’t but for the exact same reasons she shouldn’t, she knew she should.

She could feel his heart pounding, leaping and racing as she placed a hand on his chest. With a shaking touch, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She leaned in most of the way but he moved quickly to meet up with her, almost as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Both of them caught their breath, both shocked at the spark that took place when their lips met for the first time.

His jaw was dropped when they pulled away, but she had an untamable smile on her face. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked with reddened cheeks.

“I hope so,” she said. She lifted herself to her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “And I hope the day after that, too.”

“And the day after that?”

“And the day after that one, too.”

***

SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2016

She shouldn’t do this, she thought. But it felt right, it felt like the timing was there, it was perfect. Would she kick herself in the morning for this? Would she kick herself in the morning if she didn’t do it? It was their last night. She knew she’d probably never see him again, as much as it made her heart break to face that realization. Tonight, she wouldn’t think about it. Tonight, she wouldn’t let that thought cross her mind again. Tonight, she would just be his and she would tell herself it would be the same tomorrow as it’d been since June: wake up, see him on the balcony and rush down to the beach together as if it was their last day.

She pressed herself against her chest against him and placed one hand on his arm. She felt nervous as hell as she moved herself on top of him. He didn’t make a sound, but placed his hands on her waist, almost in a too-respectful kind of way.

They had kissed a million times over, they had been wrapped up in each other's arms a million times more than that. He pulled away and stared into her eyes. He looked worried, he looked scared. She’d come to know his expressions so well, she’d come to know him so well. “This isn’t just a fling to me,” he said. “It’s more than that to me.”

“It’s more than that to me, too,” she answered. She cupped his face and smiled.

“No, Summer.” He shook his head and swallowed hard. She could tell he was nervous by the way his eyes moved slightly, the way he was unable to pick one thing to focus on. His breathing was uneasy, his hands barely against her skin even though he was holding her tightly against his body. “I love you.”

She felt the goosebumps prickle against her skin, a feeling of floating as the smile wiped off her face. She felt the tears filling her eyes but she never thought in a million years… “I love you, too.” …that he could feel the same way about her. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow.”

“Then… then don’t.”

But it wasn’t that simple. “But I’ll miss you,” she said. “I’ll miss you and I don’t think I will ever love someone again, not like how I love you.” Her hands fell to her side as she gulped, trying to keep herself from looking like a mess.

He pulled her closer. “I’ll miss you,” he said, “and I’ll never love someone the way I love you. You’ll always be the one for me.”

“Even tomorrow?” she asked.

“And the day after that,” he said. He kissed her gently and sighed. “And the day after that one, too.”

***

AUGUST 29TH, 2022

One night had turned into a week, which turned into two weeks, which moved into a month and then a couple more. She didn’t expect him, she didn’t think she’d fall for some rich pretty boy from overseas, but she did. She knew it was young love, that it could be nothing more than a summer romance. But it didn’t stop her from giving everything she had to him.

That was years ago, six years to be exact, but Summer would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him often. There were plenty of times she thought she should look him up, that she should just reach out and see how he’s doing. It was stupid though, she knew it was. She doubted he even thought about her anymore. They’d lost touch many, many years ago. Her parents weren’t around anymore and she’d been avoiding cleaning out their condo. She didn’t live in the Keys anymore, she was up in Nashville. She sat on her bed in her teenage bedroom and sighed. The memories of the place made tears burn in the corners of her eyes, a big ball in her throat made it difficult to swallow. She shook her head and leaned down, pulling out a box from under her bed. She opened it and started sifting through the photos of her adolescent years. Pictures of her and her parents smiling, of her friends at graduation, and then, of course, of her and Tom. A picture she didn’t need to find because the memory was burned in her mind: the night she turned 18 and fell in love with a cute boy with a British accent on vacation one balcony over. She still loved him though. She knew she always would. She would love him tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that.

#litg #litg tom #litg ff #litg fanfic #litg bombshell #did someone say they wanted a cute tom fic?#your order is ready #I accidentally made myself a Tom stan #how did this happen

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt�� Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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venus616 · 2 years ago

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outline of alternative ending (part 4) of daddy issues

old friend; {tasm!peter parker}

context: i was scrolling through the original document i wrote on for the daddy issues series because i started working elsewhere and found the outline for the unhappy /angst ending i originally wrote in late june / early july

summary: basically if peter went on a date with mj instead of betty, and if tom went to knock on reader’s door instead of peter (choices and decisions) and copied it below the cut

0.5k words; very low stakes bulleted list of what i would’ve written without further advice

Part four: Old friend - we nearly drowned, for such a silly thing, someone who loves me now, better than you, and that pretty friend is finally yours and i’ll be around on sunday if you’ll meet me at the blue diner (mitski's old friend)

February -

She rekindles her relationship with tom

he would've knocked on her door instead of peter

she appreciates his presence and he's become to be one of her best friends outside of the affection as a boyfriend

she loves him in a different way than she did peter and realize that’s okay.

valentines rolls around and her and tom have a romantic dinner in actual public, something she recognizes peter could never give her

she goes home with tom and finally opens the messages from january of peter texting her last her to forgive him she rushes back home to knock on his door unsure

but sees this redheaded woman opening the door, wearing his shirt and he comes up behind her

y/n wants to die for feeling so stupid and she dips out on them embarrassed

realizing this is all Bad

March -

y/n has been spending a Lot more time with tom and he doesn't mind it but she goes back to the complex cause she has to actually do laundry or whatever

don’t know what to say while she’s on the way to her apartment picking up coffee and runs into peter on the way out

he offers to walk her back bc he’s on his way there too

peter: "her name is MJ"

y/n: "what?"

p: Mary Jane, she- that's the woman you saw last time

y/n: oh - do you love her

p: what?

y/n: do you love her, do you see a future with her?

p: oh c’mon

y/n: what? That's probably more than you could ever see with me

p: you think you know everything (he scoffs) you dont know how i felt

y/n: not like you made that possible peter, you always made me feel like i was something to hide, i know you never saw a future with me but you were never man enough to say it

*there’s silence that hangs in the air when they’re walking*

y/n: did you ever love me? like actually?

p: i know it wasn't fair to you to let you know that i loved you when i did-

y/n: if you told me earlier we could’ve made this work

p: i know-

y/n: and you never tried? you waited till i moved on, or tried to?

*silence*

when they reach the hallway she finally opens the door and shuts it door after getting in

April -

the time comes for y/n to renew her lease and tom is there

tom: what if you move in with me (hugging her from behind)

y/n: you can’t be serious

t: i’m serious about you. i love you so much and i wanna spend our senior year together, i’ll even move in here if you want me to-

y/n: no, no it’s okay, i really want to move in with you (nodding)

t: i love you

y/n: i love you too (kiss, then joke) as long as you let me decorate (insert implied smut)

May -

it ends by her moving out to move in with tom for senior year without saying anything

leave him with a letter MAYBE but then she sees them (Peter and MJ) frolicking in the park with Ben

they look so happy and mature and meant for eachother

y/n tears up the letter and just leaves

finally accepts this could’ve never worked, at least not in this life

#LMFAO #everyone say thank you teeklteekl #the writing’s on the wall

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riddlerosehearts · 2 years ago

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Okay so, earlier I reblogged a post that kinda offhandedly stated--as part of a larger, almost totally unrelated point, which is why I don't wanna be annoying about it to the OP--that in Beauty and the Beast, the out-of-universe reason that the prince (who I will be referring to as Adam) was 11 when he was cursed is because the writers didn’t realize they made him that young until it was too late to change it. So as a huge nerd I wanted make my own post explaining why I believe this is false, actually! Using excerpts from the BATB artbook and from a��leaked first draft of the screenplay:

1. In said draft, dated June 14th 1990, Adam is explicitly stated to be eleven years old:

“In FULL ANIMATION, we meet the eleven year-old child as he is being dressed and fussed over by a slew of harried servants”

Soooo, I’m pretty sure they did in fact know they were making him 11 years old. Honestly I don’t think I really need to elaborate more than this but I’m going to anyway, along with talking about some other things I find interesting.

2. In this version of the story, Adam was really cruel and cold to the enchantress, like I know he’s 11 but damn. He really just got told he cares for nothing and loves no one but himself and said “why should I?”

Kinda wish more of this made it into the final version of the movie tbh, if only to drive home the point that he truly was an awful kid and didn’t just get cursed for “not wanting to let a stranger in his house”, as I’ve seen some people say.

3. Also in this version of the story, the castle servants were cursed simply for getting in the way of the enchantress’ attempt to punish Adam and trying to plead with her that he’s only a child, and so that he would have to be isolated with no human company.

4. This is a bit of a tangent but even though I’ve been referring to him as a prince, he’s actually called a duke in this version! Obviously they changed that as the prologue of the movie now explicitly calls him a prince.

Also, this happens, and I really wanna know how exactly he would explain all of this to Belle in his own words:

It then cuts to Belle and Adam already having gotten married and being about to leave on their honeymoon and I’m sorry, this is not related at all to the discussion of his age, but I adore this ending so much that I almost, maybe, kinda sorta like it just as much as if not better than the actual ending and I feel the need to share it:

Belle and Adam literally don’t notice a whole explosion in the east wing because “they’re too caught up in newlywed bliss”, help, my heart--this gives us more time with Adam as a human, is adorable, and just feels so classic and Cinderella-esque. Actually, the original prologue and ending parallel the structure of Cinderella so strongly (especially if they would’ve added the chorus singing the title song) that maybe they thought it was a bit too much like Cinderella, and I wouldn’t trade the unique stained glass prologue and last shot of the final movie for anything, but I still just love every word of this.

But ANYWAY, one last thing pertaining to Adam’s age:

5. Before even this draft was created, Howard Ashman originally wanted the poor kid to be seven when he got cursed. SEVEN! And I know that because of the Beauty and the Beast artbook:

Wanted to share this whole section for context, but the most relevant part is that Howard’s original idea, which the directors apparently disliked despite it still making it to the first screenplay draft, was... well, the same thing I showed earlier, except the main character was “a seven-year-old prince”. Which does make me wonder how old Howard originally imagined Belle to be, seeing as Paige O’Hara has referred to her as an adult in her early 20s several times since the movie was released (so no, she’s not 17 and getting with a 21 year old, the “Belle is 17″ thing comes from another drastically different version of the script) and in this draft is described as 18 at the same time that Adam would be nearing 21:

All this is to say, though, that imo the live action remake doing things like changing the “ten years we’ve been rusting” line, never specifying that the rose will bloom until his 21st birthday, and making him explicitly older + having him be cruelly abusing his political power in the prologue... is interesting and not necessarily bad, just different (and only canon to that adaptation, not to the original animated film!). It places the Beast’s curse in a much different light and makes it seem much more justifiable (though even then it doesn’t justify cursing the servants tbh) than the idea that the enchantress would so cruelly punish not just an 11 year old but everyone else who cares for him in response to him simply being a spoiled, bratty child. I can see why some might prefer him being an adult, and I can also see how some may not realize that he was supposed to be 11 with how much older he looks in the prologue and the painting in the castle (which admittedly is an odd decision to me that I’m not sure of the reasoning for). But I think him being a young child at the time of the curse really helps to show just how unjust his situation is, and also I think the writers definitely knew what they were doing here. If they wanted to make sure Adam was an adult at the time of the curse then really, they only would’ve had to remove/change a couple of lines, but they clearly wrote him as a young child in several previous versions of the script and then... continued to imply exactly that in the final movie.

#this--like anything i ever write--is an incoherent mess i'm sorry #if anyone wants image descriptions PLEASE let me know and i will add them asap #i just don't expect anyone to actually bother to read this tbh #but if you do read this and you want to know more about the first draft or the artbook my inbox is open!!#beauty and the beast #long post

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croctears · 3 years ago

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—him.

been a hella long time since i posted anything. i actually haven’t been writing at all since the last piece i posted on here. i do hope for forgiveness over messy sentences and terrible cadences, i seem to have lost touch of what it means to write. also, heyhey everyone on writeblr, if you’d have me, i’m more than glad to be back. and here’s a little something i wrote last night. raw and unedited, a lil personal but nothing better than the first thing i wrote after a long hiatus huh (’:

That night home, sweat-slicked back against the front seat of your car, words lodged themselves between the slits of my throat. They slipped down each time I try to cough them out, gargling and churning, yet never wanting to escape. I couldn’t deny the indescribable silence that swallow me whole each time you look at me, I couldn’t even tell if it is longing or indifference in your eyes. Could it be fear too? I didn’t wanna give myself too much credit.

I go stiff. Infant again, you need to teach me how to speak again.

You were within reach, fingers tight around my thigh. I couldn’t feel you though. I held on tighter, but not too much in case it scared you away. I held on as firm as my flimsy heart would allow me to, yet I still feel you slipping through my clutches.

Your mouth moved, talking about June. I wish I could shut my ears.

The burn in my lungs spread like wildfire, I don’t know if it was from the unspoken phrases clawing at my insides, or the death drills during boxing earlier. Perhaps I just didn’t want to admit to myself that it was an entirely different reason.

That you were going away.

Now. I wanted to say. My tongue tightened up, the blaze growing stronger.

I realised that I was utterly in love with you, now.

A month ago, I couldn’t give you an answer. But right now and right there, when there’s so little time left for us, I can finally say with confidence that it was now.

You could say I know what I was getting into. I knew alright, I knew and I was willing. I’ll say it now, that even if you’d leave me before June, I wouldn’t change a thing about us. Even if I knew back then we couldn’t last, I was glad that you were my first for so many things. I had hoped you’d be my last, though.

So here I am, on my knees, desperate cries welling up in the once empty cavern of my chest. Praying against all odds, didn’t you tell me that as long as our hearts still beat, I am yours and you are mine?

Please. It hadn’t ended yet.

The distance doesn’t matter when I still have you. It doesn’t matter, because I’d rather hug my pillow so close wishing it was you every night for two years over losing you completely.

The last traffic light before I reached home, you held my cheeks so carefully in your hands, grinning that same old smile of yours. It never failed to spark joy in me, but that night. That night I could see there was something more behind that gaze. I still wanted to convince myself that it was fear. Fear that you would lose me.

The same fear that had a vice grip on all my logic.

I wish I’m the type of lover that would write proses, poems, poetries befitting you. About how you made me feel so safe, that I can be completely at ease with you. I wish I can write about the way you felt close to me, how there isn’t a touch more comforting than yours. I wish I can write about you, you, you. It was never just the way you made me feel emotions I never thought I had, it was the way that you are.

It was simply because of the way that you exist.

But all your girlfriend knows to do is grieve, she had been born into that mold. Everything that came out of her was grief, grief, grief. All she could vomit out of that smart mouth of hers is sorrow. I hope you forgive her inability to love, but I can promise you that she is more than willing to learn how to if it means it is with you. And I can promise you that she no longer wants to mourn, especially not if it means losing you.

taglist// @matcha-chai

#writing #writers community #writing blog #writing community #writeblr #一crocwrites

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

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Wedding Bells (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Summary: The happiest day of your life is the worst day on Luke’s life. Could there still be a happy ending if he’s not too late?

Warnings: angsty. Language and mentions of alcohol. Slander on the name Phillip (sorry to all the Phills but it’s true, look it up) Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4.9 k

Author’s note: let me guide you through my thought process: I was writing You Said Forever and accidentally got caught up on the Olivia x Joshua x sabrina drama, that lead me to the Miley x Nick x Selena drama, which lead me to the song Wedding Bells by Nick Jonas. So this is loosely based on that. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are very important and welcomed, you don’t know how much it helps and I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

His head was pounding, loudly.

Every beat sounded like an echo that ran through his whole body. Speaking of his body, goddamn how it hurt, how everything hurts.

His eyelids were closed, eyelashes stuck and tangled with each other, heavy as the sun shined through the window, begging him to get up. His mouth was also dry, he couldn’t figure out if it was because he slept with his mouth open or because he doesn’t remember the last time he drank a drop of water.

He groaned as the pounding in his head continued. A never-ending pain that matched the loud banging on the door.

“Luke! C’mon, we’re going to be late!”

Ashton's voice sounded far away as his mind was not fully awake yet. He didn’t want to be awake yet, maybe not ever again after this day.

If his eyes were awake he would roll them. Couldn’t Ashton understand that he didn’t want to go? He made it fairly obvious for the past few months! He was not going.

Luke hid his head farther in his pillow, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the outside world. But that was almost impossible as soon as he heard Ashton pick on his lock.

That bastard.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with a bloke from the outsides of town?” He said with a teasing tone. Luke knew he was bluffing, his doorknob was messed up since the moment they bought the house, so it was easy to get in if you knew the right tricks with a safety pin - oh the irony of it all.

Luke mumbled something close to a word his mum wouldn’t be proud to hear. But Ashton simply ignored it as he walked towards the windows to open the curtains, letting the sun illuminate the room at its full capacity.

Ashton sighed at the sight of the room. Clothes were thrown out everywhere, the same goes with the hundred liquor and beer bottles and cans that were scattered around the floor. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka that rested on the nightstand and clicked his tongue.

“You bought this yesterday,” He said, totally unimpressed. Luke didn’t answer “C’mon, buddy, up to the shower you go”

Ashton patted Luke’s back, encouraging him to get a move on, but the blonde just brought his sheets over his head and stayed put.

“Luke��”

“Mmnphf” He mumbled.

“What?” Ashton walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed the tall Australian by his legs, pulling him out of his comforter in one swift move that made Luke fall out of the bed with a thud.

“Motherfuck-“ He complained, rubbing on his bumped head, which was still pounding by the way.

“You were saying?” Ashton said with a smirk as he crouched down to be face to face with Luke, the teasing smile quickly fading away because he didn’t like what he saw at all.

The baby blue eyes that once shined with gleam were dull, red, and empty, and probably angry about his interruption. His curly blond was sticking to his forehead and his body language seemed to have given up on keeping him with a straight figure, making him physically close himself up to others.

“I said I’m not going!” His voice was hoarse due to the heavy drinking he’s been doing these past few days. He tried to sound harsh, but Ashton could easily see through his bluff. He was hurting, every part of him.

“Of course you are,” Ashton scoffed.

Luke glared at him “I’m. Not. Going” He said through gritted teeth. The drummer rolled his eyes. He’s had this conversation before and it was always the same speech.

“You are because she wants you there, so you’ll be there” Ashton stated as if that was the only reasonable answer.

Luke closed his eyes, cause he was sure that if he opened them he would punch Ashton in the mouth. Why couldn’t he understand? “I can’t go, Ash”

His voice broke at the end of the pleading, breaking Ashton’s heart in the process. He hated to see him like that; to see him throw away his life so carelessly without asking for or accepting anyone’s help. It’s not like he ignored what was happening, but he was sure this would do good for him; close cycles, help him move on, and that shit. How else could you mend a broken heart?

“And besides,” Luke continued “She doesn’t want me there” The words felt like poison in his mouth, bitter and dry “She invited you guys, you are her friends and I’m just her stupid ex”

That was a lie and he knew that. When the invitations came he made sure to throw his away before he even got to open it. Making the others believe that he wasn’t invited at all. He didn’t even tell them that you were the one who dropped them, him being unlucky enough to answer the door.

“It’s in June,” You said, eyes avoiding him “Hope you can make it”

Whatever words Luke had stuck in his throat stayed there as he swallowed the pain of seeing you standing there, inviting him to see you love someone else. All he could say was “You’ll look beautiful in white”

You practically ran away after that, leaving him alone with the invitations. Just looking at those envelopes hurt more than he could imagine. He knew this day would come eventually, he hoped he would. He just hoped that his name was engraved on paper next to yours.

“Maybe,” Said Ashton with a grin “But if she didn’t want you there then why did she ask me to RSVP for you?” Luke’s eyes widened like plates, he knew Ashton had called his bluff once again “She said you never answer yours so I did it for you. Cause she wants you there, Luke. You were her best friend, too”

Luke groaned and covered his face with his hand “Why did you do that?!” He asked with an exasperated tone, wanting to hate on the drummer but knowing that that was impossible.

“Because you need to go, mate! You can’t leave her hanging like this!”

“And what am I supposed to say?!” He yelled, he was not used to yelling but he was at the ends of his wits ``‘Oh, hey Y/N! A beautiful day isn’t it? Perfect weather to break my heart into a million pieces while you marry another guy and I’m sitting there watching, wishing I was him! I’m happy for you, though I’m really not cause I know it’s been like what? 3 years 5 months and 24 days since we broke up? but I’m still in love with you. Okay have fun?!”’

He grabbed an empty can from the floor and threw it away, hitting the door of his closet. He was beyond furious and frustrated. You were getting married and he can’t do anything to stop it; to stop you.

Ashton sighed, heartbroken by this whole ordeal “You’ve been counting?”

“Ever since that day. It was my greatest mistake and now I’m suffering from it. Karma really is a bitch. Did you know our anniversary is supposed to be in 5 days? And now it’s impossible to ever get her back”

The drummer placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, he wished he could make his pain go away. He’s never seen his friend so heartbroken before and it pained him knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Luke,” He said in a fatherly tone “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But believe when I tell you she wants you there, she misses you” Luke turned his head towards Ashton, his eyes begging him not to lie “I’m serious, she’s always asking about you but she’s too scared to talk to you thinking that you don’t want to speak to her. She needs you there, man. Not as a bitter ex and to show you she’s moved on, but as a friend. And I know for a fact you can’t say not to her, even when you’re mad”

Luke sighed. Ashton was right. He could never deny you anything, even before you were together and you were just his best friend, you were always his weakness.

He misses you too, every day since you broke up he’s been missing you. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see you at least one last time, given that your last interaction was awkward as hell.

“I can’t go, Ash”

Ashton nodded with a disappointing sigh as he got up from the floor, but before he could walk out the door he heard Luke say “I can’t go because I don’t have a suit!”

Ashton smiled “I got you covered, buddy” And left the room so Luke could take a shower.

Ashton’s suit was itchy, but Luke was grateful that he didn’t have to show up in jeans and an old BonJovi shirt.

He was surprised to find out that they were actually on time, although he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Ashton woke him up much earlier than needed to get there on time.

They met with Michael and Calum in the parking lot, they greeted each other and started talking as if Luke’s heart wasn’t about to burst from the anxiety he was feeling.

To show up at a wedding is something; to show up at your ex’s aka the love of your life’s wedding is… unsettling. He understood why his friends didn’t want to make it awkward for him, yet the awkwardness settled at the moment he stepped foot out of the car.

“She’s getting married in a church?” He asked no one in particular.

“Yeah? That’s why we are here, mate” Calum chuckled.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You never wanted to get married in a church or even a chappel. No, if he remembers correctly, your dream wedding was somewhere outdoors; either a park or a forest or even someone’s backyard. You used to say that love was the most beautiful and natural thing in the universe, so it was logical to celebrate something as powerful as a wedding in the eyes of nature, so it all came to be one for love and love can be one for all.

He remembers he laughed at that, not to mock you in any way, but in awe of how beautiful you put it. Everything you said sounded like poetry to him, even if you were just reading a menu in a Chinese restaurant. But now your poetry would belong to someone else, and he only hoped that that someone deserves to hear it.

He doesn’t know the groom, he believes his name was Phill? Or something like that? Ashton always said he was kind of a jerk, but you loved him enough to marry him so maybe he wasn’t that bad. But for Luke he would always be the man that stole you from him.

All three of his friends started walking inside the rustic church and Luke followed, incapable to think about anything else that wasn’t you at that moment.

However, the minute he entered the cold building he knew something was wrong.

The church was filled with people he didn’t know, he assumed they must be from the groom’s side of the family, but he would bet the 35$ Ashton left in his pocket that you didn’t know half of these people either.

You never wanted a big wedding, hell, you didn’t even want a big birthday party, no matter how much Luke insisted on it.

“Those kinds of parties are not for the ones being celebrated!” You told him once “If it was truly important then all you need is your closest friends and your found family. What else is there to love?”

Your words kept repeating themselves inside Luke’s head. What else is there to love? Indeed.

That wasn’t the only thing catching his attention though. With every step he took towards his seat he found out more things out of place, out of you.

For example, the color scheme was terrible and he knows you didn’t pick it, your favorite colors were nowhere to be seen. Then it was the flowers, if there is one thing he never forgot about you were your favorite flowers. You used to fill the house with them saying that they were your little serotonin boosters, he remembers how happy they made you and how one time he nearly bought all the flowers in the shop to surprise you when you were having a bad day. Now he cannot even look at them without thinking of you.

The more steps he took the more flawed this wedding looked. And yes, he knows that sounds bad, especially coming from him. But it was the truth. Not even the music sounded like it would come from you.

The words ‘This is not right’ Kept screaming at the back of his head.

The Y/N he knew would never choose those flowers or those colors or that guest list or that venue, nor the song that was playing over the speakers. She preferred live music over all the rest and, if she would’ve asked, she’d known that all four of them would perform for free on the happiest day of her life, even if it was the crappiest day for him.

If someone were to tell him a year ago that this is how your wedding would look, he would’ve laughed cause this is not like you. This wedding, this… charade of glamour and show.. this wasn’t you. This wasn’t Y/N. And it's supposed to be your day!

He couldn’t understand why you’d choose this? This was so unlike you, unless… unless he never really knew you at all.

And just like that, the sinking feeling of dread came upon him as he tried to figure out who was the person he knew and who are you now? What changed so much to make you lose all that you once were?

What if?

What if he knew how to love you better? He wouldn’t have let you walk away from him. He would’ve fought for you, for the two of you, instead of just giving up like he did.

Luke knew he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you like the first day. And now you are loving somebody else cause he didn’t know how to keep the most beautiful thing he ever had; the most beautiful thing he let die. He messed up, but his biggest fuck up was realizing it and doing nothing about it.

And now it was too late.

“Dude, are you okay?” Michael whispered when he noticed his friend's frown.

Luke nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line “What were you saying?”

Michael smiled with mischief “We were just laughing at how ridiculous Phillip looks. That suit does not suit him at all”

For the first time since he came, he looked over at the altar. Standing there was the so-called Phill you were going to marry. He was talking to his groomsmen and laughing obnoxiously at what seemed like an inappropriate joke. What did you see on that guy?

“Did you know the name Phillip means horse lover?” Said Calum, trying to stiff a laugh with the other two friends.

They were doing their best to keep Luke distracted and he appreciated that. But seeing the groom so unpreoccupied, so chill and uninterested made his blood boil. How could he be so at ease? If it were him, if he had the wonderful chance to marry you, he’d be a ball of anxiety. He’d be wondering just how beautiful you’d look, if you were feeling as nervous as he was, if you were as happy as he was and how he couldn’t wait to marry you… He would do all that because he will know that he is the luckiest man on earth. But that’s not his truth at all.

“I’m going to take a walk”

Neither of them told him that the ceremony was about to start or offered to accompany him. They knew he needed time and they wouldn't pressure him at all. Luke silently thanked them for that.

He walked out of the ceremony hall and started pacing around the halls, quickly getting lost as he tried to ease his mind.

How could he go through this and pretend that he’s okay? He remembered Ashton’s words from this morning and knew that if you wanted him here then he would be here, but that still didn’t make it any easier.

He would go through the ends of the earth for you if you asked him to, but this? This might be the hardest thing he has ever done, second only to let you go.

His curls were getting messy because of all the ruffling he did with his hands. He needed to pull himself together before the ceremony, he needed to seem okay in front of you. He-

The soft cries coming from behind the door caught his attention. They were hushed but they seemed completely broken. Whoever was behind that door must feel just as hopeless as he did.

“Hello?” He said, knocking on the wooden door “Hello, are you okay in there?”

The sniffing sounds stopped “Luke?”

It was quiet, almost like a whisper. But Luke would recognize your voice anywhere, especially after not hearing you say his name for 3 years.

“Y/N?”

The door opened with a click and revealed a supply closet and, inside that supply closet, there was a bride. There you were.

Luke’s breath almost disappeared as you knocked the wind out of his lungs. You looked beautiful. Stunning in your white dress. Magical as your hair was perfectly styled. Breathtaking with your waterproof makeup still intact, although you would look breathtaking without it as well. Ethereal as you looked at him and he realized that all the times that he missed you seemed small at how much he missed you now and how he would miss you all his life.

If there were any other adjectives to describe how you looked, he would take them all out of the dictionary and give them to you in the form of a song. Cause in his eyes there was no other beauty that could compare, that even the sadness in your eyes seemed to compliment your magnificent. And that was something he couldn’t ignore.

Without thinking it twice he took a couple of steps in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb as he murmured: “What’s wrong, love?”

Hearing his voice so worried and soft shook something in you, something that you didn’t know you still had but at the same time knew that it would never go away.

More tears started streaming down your eyes as your gaze met his, making you get lost in those baby blue marbles.

“I- I don’t know what I’m doing, Lukey” You confessed in a whisper.

At the sound of his nickname, Luke felt like he could float away in a cloud of happiness. He thought you’ve forgotten. But the look on your face denoted a fear he hoped he’d never got to see again.

Your eyes were puffy red and your cheeks were flushed, not only because of the blush. And your eyes, they were terrified and Luke didn’t know what to do, so he just said.

“You’re getting married today” You didn’t miss the hint of sadness that laced those words. You hoped that could mean something.

You placed your hands on his wrist, holding his hands that were cupping your face and making them stay there. Right now it was the only comfort you got.

“I don’t know if I should-“ You choke out a sob “Luke, I’m scared- I’m so scared”

“Do you love him?” The words pained him, cutting right through his heart. But you and him were here for a reason, and that reason was waiting at the altar.

He secretly prayed that you would say no, that you would beg him to take you away and run away together, maybe elope somewhere far away and not come back to this place ever again.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes and he knew his answer.

“Y/N, I love-“

“There you are!”

Luke closed his eyes in annoyance when he felt his words get stuck in his throat as the stranger’s voice came closer to them. You quickly pulled away from him and that only made his heart break more than it already was.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Said one of the bridesmaids Luke has never seen before, he assumed that it was from the side of the groom as well, just like everything else “The ceremony is about to start, we need to go now!”

She quickly grabbed you by the wrist and practically draged you to the ceremony hall.

You were desperate. Your pleading eyes searched for Luke, begging for him to do something. But what could he do now? His shocking state left him standing right there with his eyes glued to your figure being dragged away somewhere he didn’t know you wanted to be. It all happened so fast that the only thing he could think of was that this might be the last chance he’s got to see you and all he could do was stare into your pretty eyes cloud with fear and tears.

‘Here comes the bride’ started playing through the speakers of the church and Luke clenched his fists to his side. You hated this song.

He went back to his seat minutes after the ceremony started. His three best friends were looking at him with curiosity and a thousand questions in their minds. They knew the minute that they saw you come in that those tears were not of happiness and, judging by Luke’s hard, emotionless face, he had something to do with it.

Throughout the whole ceremony, Luke couldn’t stop staring at you. It was eating him inside the fact that he knew you didn’t want this and yet you were still going through it. He couldn’t understand why. He is losing you right before his eyes and he couldn’t take that.

He knew that the moment you say ‘I do’ would be the moment his soul would die forever.

“Luke?”

He knew something was wrong. He knew it the moment he parked the car in a freaking church and your eyes filled with tears just confirmed it to him.

“Luke, are you okay?” Michael whispered once again, concerned about the white knuckles on his best friend’s fists.

He loves you. He loves you so fucking much and he can’t let you do this.

He won’t let you do this.

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace"

“Fuck it,” Luke said before standing up.

In one second, all eyes were on him. He could feel the stares of strangers, the judgy whispers of the families, and even the shit-eating grins from his best friends sitting beside him. But all his attention was on you. On you and your relieved face.

“I object to this union,” He said in a firm voice that overshadowed the murmurs, leaving everyone completely quiet.

He could see your eyes clouding with tears and the way your lips seemed to be saying his name in one breath. That was all he needed to keep going.

Luke took a few steps to the side, walking until he ended up in the middle of the aisle, looking at you and only you.

“Y/N, I love you,” He said, earning a few gasps from the public “I love you since the day I met you, the day I first asked you to be mine, and even on the day I lost you. I was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of the magic we created and decided that it was best to let it go before it went out of hand. But you, you always believed in magic; you always believed in me and, Y/N that’s why I’m here telling you that I am still in love with you. And that you are making a big mistake here, just like I did when I lost you. But we are still on time to make everything right.

This, however, is not right and you know it. Where are you in all of this? Do they know your favorite flowers or that your favorite song includes a swear word? Do they know the way you take your coffee or your favorite colors? Do they know how much you love to dance, especially when no one is watching?

I know you, baby. I know you enough to say with certainty that this is not what you wanted. I know how much you love rain and how you wish time would stop every time you take a shower so it could last longer. I know that you cry during every movie, even if they have a happy ending because you always believed in them. I know you never want to break someone’s heart so you are willing to take the hurt as long as the other person is okay. I know that my biggest regret is losing you, cause you are the only thing I got right in my life.

You are life, fire, spark, patience, and love. You are the kindest person on earth and you deserve so much more than this world could give. No one deserves you, darling but I would spend the rest of my days trying to.

I’m in love with you Y/N L/N. Please, don’t- don’t marry him”

Luke’s eyes were watery as he swallowed down a sob on the last part of his speech. His eyes never left yours for a second as his body visibly shook with anxiety and fear, waiting for your answer.

You, on the other hand, were smiling through the tears “I love you too, Luke” You said loud enough for all to hear, and Luke felt like he could breathe again, a smile growing wide as he let a few tears roll down his eyes.

You ran down the aisle to his arms, fully sinking into them as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Luke’s chuckle reverberated through his chest as he picked you up and spun you around in your wedding dress, finally putting you down and looking right into your eyes, now clouded with happy tears.

“I told you you were going to look beautiful in white”

He kissed you with all the love he had in his heart. It was honest, pure, and filled with happiness as the two lovers finally reunite, making the entire church erupted in cheers.

The groom, however, didn't share that excitement. He was fuming red as he started walking towards Luke with his groomsmen, calling you derogatory names as he was ready to start a fight.

“Oh, fuck no” Said Calum, walking down to the middle of the aisle along side Ashton and Michael, creating a safe distance between the two of you and the fight that was about to start. Phillip was not happy, but before he could give the first punch Calum’s fist was already on his face, making him tumble back with a bloody nose “Take that horse lover!”

All hell broke loose in the middle of church as punches were thrown carelessly. The three Australians seemed to be winning the fight with ease, beating the asses of your now ex-fiancé and his friends.

The public was too distracted by the fight to notice how you walked away from the aisle as you cheered on your friends to kick their kneecaps. Luke took your hand and pulled you towards him, still laughing as he began tugging on it for you to follow, and so you did.

You ran as fast as you could, leaving everyone behind without a second thought. The only thing in your mind being the love you had for each other and how you won’t take it for granted this time.

“I love you,” He said as you reached the car, placing his hands at the side of your waist and leaning in for a kiss filled with adrenaline “I fucking love you, Y/N”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him back with all the love you kept from him during all these years “I love you too, Luke. We are meant for forever”

“Forever and beyond”

It was a crazy sight from every point of view. The man with the messy hair and the girl in a wedding dress kissing in the middle of a church parking lot while the guests all peered from the entrance of the building, four of them bleeding through their nose with tears in their black eyes, and three of them with their clothes all messed up and sweaty, smiling triumphantly as they watched their friends live their love again.

With one last kiss, Luke helped you get inside the car and he quickly got to the other side, starting the engine just in time to hear the bells chime. Marking the start of your real happily ever after with the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @myloverboyash

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floweryavenue · 4 years ago

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Ugh, so, I don't even know if anyone is actually gonna read this, and I'm not really the one who would participate in fandom very actively (I was always a passive observer, liking other's people content), but the stuff with the leaks of the extra 8 pages of snk ending has been really bothering me for the last few days, and I really need to get a few things off my chest.

I really wanted to wait till 9th June to form my full thoughts. However, since basically all pages have leaked anyway and quite a reliable source confirmed there is basically no additional context to them whatsoever, I decided I might as well write this anyway and vent somewhere to clear my head so I can finally move on with my life to focus on other things I like and with other important irl stuff. Moreover, since Tumblr seems like a reasonably safe space to do so (comparing to one hell of a Twitter...) I might as well do it here. So, let's go.

So, basically, my main problem with those pages is simply that... you just don't do that. No. You don't release an ending, make people think it's really the end, then say you're gonna release a few additional pages that won't change anything but simply clarify some things, and then, two months later, release these pages indeed but not only they don't actually clarify anything, but in fact, create even more plot holes. Furthermore, as a cherry on top, they change the ending quite completely. If those pages had been included in the original release, most people, myself included, would've moved on by now. But noooo, make us go through this hell again. Great :))))

And as for the content of those pages, well... I can't help but feel they really did quite a disservice to Mikasa, one of my favourite female characters ever. My biggest problem isn't even that she 'moved on' (whatever that means at this point, coz I feel like fandom has been successfully managing to butcher that term ever since 139 has dropped) and started a family on her own because I'm fully aware that falling in love again after you first love died is an entirely normal thing irl. But ffs, we're not talking about irl here; we're talking about snk and Mikasa. And the thing that MAINLY bothers me, is the way it has been presented.

I'm not going to delve into the husband's possible identities, 1) I'm not interested at all in participating in any ship wars, 2) because we don't even get to see his face and sources say we indeed don't get any direct confirmation in that regard. Not that this matters anyway, because we get presented with Mikasa on the one hand staring her own family, but on the other, still continuing to visit Eren's grave repeatedly throughout her life and in the end, getting buried with a scarf on, her dearest remembrance of Eren, and maybe even getting buried next to him (even tho, the latter is still not 100% confirmed, bcs here sources are contradictory, but judging by the general mood of those pages, I'd not be surprised at all if it turns out to be the case).

That makes me think the whole family-stuff was used only to present the passage of time and the fact that Mikasa never fully got over Eren, bcs we don't see the family in any other context besides the visits to the grave. And that leads me to my other question - was introducing the family really NECESSARY, then? Couldn't Mikasa simply visit the grave with Armin, and maybe even with Armin, Annie and their kids? Idk about you, but that would make 100% more sense to me. Also, don't get me even started, how much in the wrong way it rubs me that Mikasa, the character who, as we know, always deeply cared about others, even strangers (Gabi, etc.), would just drag her husband, her children and grandchildren to the grave of her first love on which she had written 'my most beloved, my dear'? Do I really need to elaborate on how WEIRD that is?

But I guess that's on me for believing a male author would write a satisfactory conclusion to the main female character (not Mikasa touring around Hizuru, not Mikasa playing with kids at the orphanage, no! Forced family plot, instead! Take that!)

As of Eremika, aka my most cherished paring ever since 2014... I guess the only good thing in that mess is that at least it doesn't invalidate them. If anything, it validates them even more, because the stuff I've mentioned earlier prove their love was eternal and Mikasa never truly got over it. So, all in all, I'm gonna still cherish them forever. There are still many unexplored aspects of their bond, so I believe we, as a community, have a big room to explore (pls, I'm begging you, explore with me all the possibilities of their four years in the cottage in the mountains, I swear, that sh!t has so much potential it's unbelievable).

As of Paradis getting destroyed, well, that leaves me bitter, even though after doing some thinking, that really might be the least out of place thing in those pages. At least according to sources, it happens when Mikasa is already dead, so at least Eren's wish of giving his friends long, secure lives came true. However, that would be it.

And as of titan's power still being there and some kid apparently finding the source of it... this just screams 'sequel-baiting', AND I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT. That's it.

To end my definitely too long rambling, I just wanna say, I really would have liked to wait till 9th June to publish my thoughts, but as I've said, those last few days have been driving me crazy and I really wanted just to get all of it off my chest and move on. I want for now to just focus on my irl things, like working on my master's thesis and other stuff giving me joy, like Eurovision next week coming back after 2-years-absence due to pandemic. Eurovision is one of the few things that I love, and I intend on fully enjoying it next week, not sulking on those leaks too much. And if by some completely unexpected miracle I get pleasantly surprised on 9th June (even tho I truly doubt it at this point) - that would be only a win for me, I guess.

Anyway, please remember, all that I have written here is ONLY MY OPINION, and if you disagree with anything, that's valid, you're completely entitled to that. I'm not publishing this to argue with anybody, only to clear my head. That's it.

If anyone has read this too long personal rant of mine - thank you, I'm kissing you on the forehead right now.

Oh, and remember - EREMIKA IS CANON. And always will be (no, that one is not up for discussion).

Also, we have that official High School AU, and Eren right now is quietly snoozing on Mikasa's shoulder during another Twilight marathon she made him to take part in, and Armin and Annie are dissing people together on reddit while bonding over their pretentious taste in music. That's canon, Isayama told me after I had phoned him to ask wtf.

PS To think I was almost sure those extra pages will be about Mikasa's reunion with the rest of the alliance... I guess it's time to put that clown make up on.

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harrytpotter · 4 years ago

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RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part II

A/N: Again, I’d like to remind you guys that English is not my mother language, so apologies in advance for any mistakes. Once again, the gif isn’t mine, I took it from google; if it’s yours or belongs to anyone you know, let me know so I can credit! :)

You were passing through a hall full of empty classrooms on your way to the great hall. You were about to turn on your right when strong hands grabbed you by your waist and dragged you into one of the rooms. You were about to hit the stranger in the face when you realized who they were.

“Jamie, you dickhead! You startled the living hell out of me,” you bump your fist into his shoulder rather strongly.

“Ouch! Bitter much, love?” He grimaces, rubbing his shoulder.

You roll your eyes at him. “Stop being such a drama queen, would ya?! I suppose there’s a reason why you ambushed me in an empty hallway when basically the entire castle is at the great hall?!”

“Oh, about that... In how much trouble did we get ourselves into this time?” He grinned.

“Care to elaborate that, darling?” You frown.

“Moony and Pads came back earlier last night and we hadn’t return until pretty late because you kept insisting you needed to get wasted and... McGonagall seems like she wants to murder me when you’re the one she should’ve been pissed at,” he says, thoughtful.

“Sweetheart... everybody wants to murder you,” you offer him a mockery smile. “I wouldn’t know how to help you with that since I can’t recall about pretty much anything after the first shot of firewhisky I took last night.”

“You can’t remember anything? At all? Oh, woman...” he grins satisfied at you, a brow lifted.

Your sarcasm act and mockery smile dropped all of a sudden. “James... what did I do last night?” You ask him, eyes widen.

“You see, love... that was one interesting night, to say the least,” the grin on his face went wider, if that was even possible.

Before you could rip the detailed story out of him, the door is opened with a loud bang and your other two best friends enter the room, the marauder’s map in hands.

“Now that was dramatic,” James shruggs at Sirius and Remus.

“Where were you? You should’ve heard Evans’ screams at James,” Sirius says to you, trying to contain a burst of laughter.

“About that, what exactly did you tell her?! She was ready to rip off my head earlier this morning, lucky me she was so pissed she couldn’t even make sense,” James narrow his eyes.

“I might have called her Lily Potter...” you answer him with your best i’m-sorry-i-screwed-up face.

Sirius and Remus both exploded in a loud laughter whilst James stared at you, jaw-dropped. Then, he bursted into a loud laughter himself. You roll your eyes at your best friends, laughing as well.

***

The morning classes passed by the blink of an eye and soon you found yourself surrounded by your best friends at the great hall during lunch. You did your best to try to focus on the chit chats going on around you, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry, Ron and Hermione and your sudden absence from Hogwarts at their time. What would they think? Were they worried about you? Would they look for you and somehow end up here as well eventually? It could turn out to be an absolute mess.

“Y/N!” James shouts your name, dragging the attention of the entire table to you.

“Hmm?!” You snap back to reality, looking at him with a clueless expression.

“I was telling Mrs. Potter here that we should have a June wedding, what do you think?” He looked amused at Lily who was clearly beyond annoyed.

“Sure, sounds nice,” you answer him briefly, not paying much attention. You were getting back at your thoughts when you felt somebody grab your hand.

“Come here,” James leaded you out of the great hall to a quiet and desert hallway. “Talk to me, love.”

You raise your brows at him, playing dumb. You knew it was pointless because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to keep anything from James. He had always paid attention to you and knew you better than even yourself, hence he’d knew you’d be lying if you said nothing was going on.

“Lily is a little concerned about you as well. She said you were acting weird this morning and she too realized you didn’t give a damn about our classes today, which, may I add, is extremely odd for you, darling,” he grinned, grabbing your hands and interlocking your fingers in his. A habit he had whenever he was trying to make you feel better.

You look away from his gaze and before you could come up with an excuse, a few students of Ravenclaw passing by started to tease the two of you. “Glad to see you finally owned up to your feelings, Potter and L/N!” Someone shouted and the others giggled before disappearing. You and James often listened things like that over the years but both of you never really cared. Sometimes you played along with it, other times you just ignored it. You were about to pretend you didn’t listen to them and try to change the subject when you noticed something strange.

“Are you blushing, Potter?” You frown.

“Me?” He laughs. “Not my thing, darling. You know I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, maybe you should tell that to the pink shade taking over your entire face right now,” you tease him, both brows lifted.

“Full of jokes today, aren’t we?” He rolls his eyes trying to look unimpressed and contain his embarrassment.

“Always, love,” you throw you arm over his shoulders, kissing is cheek in mockery.

James grins at you and rest his left arm on your waist whilst the two of you walk to your next class together.

***

The week had come to an end and you hadn’t hear from Dumbledore ever since you handed him the time-turner. Not that you had time to worry about that at all, since James has made his life mission to spend every waking hour he had with you until you felt better. He even dragged you to all of his quidditch practices. Like today. You were sitting on the bench observing your best friend with vivid eyes, taking mental notes of his behavior on field so you could pick on him later saying how you thought he could improve his technique, knowing very well how much it annoyed him.

“Mind if I join you?” A Hufflepuff grins at you. “My team’s supposed to use the field to practice next but apparently I’m a little earlier.”

“Not at all,” you point him the seat next to you.

“Thanks. I don’t see much of you in here on practice days,” he says whilst sitting.

“Oh, probably because I’m stuck inside the library studying. Or being lectured because of some trouble my friend up there gets me on,” you laugh.

“Yeah, James has quite the fame, hasn’t he?” He laughs too.

You engage on a conversation with the boy for the rest of the practicing, not noticing when James landed right beside you with his broom.

“Hey, love! Wanna head to the locker room so I can change?” He weirdly places a kiss on you cheek, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Sure,” you stand up and answer him before turning back to the Hufflepuff. “See you! Diggory, right?!”

The boy nods at you, smiling. “See you around, L/N.”

“Since when do you talk to Amos Diggory?” James says once you’re outside Diggory’s hearing range, frowning.

“I don’t, this was the first time actually,” you shrug. “So if you’re planning on teasing and annoy the bloody hell outta me saying that I fancy him or something, sorry but it won’t work,” you add, looking at him with both brows raised.

James laughs. “I’ll have better luck next time on annoying you then, L/N.” He then hugs you tightly, lifting you up and spinning you around. “Or will I have it now anyway?”

“James Potter, you’re the biggest arse this planet has ever seen!” You laugh.

You were already feeling a little better.

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine #the marauders #the marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #right place wrong time #rpwt imagine

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clarkslibrary · 4 years ago

Text

𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Pairing: steve rogers x OFC (Juniper Loughty), mild OMC (Judah) x OFC (Juniper)

Word Count: 2,849

Warnings: ANGST, alcohol, breakups, swearing, jealous steve, unrequited love, heavy nicknames,nat and bucky being right for 10 mins straight, angst crashing nat’s bday

Author’s Note: Hi lovelies! This is first fic (vv nervous) and i was inspired by @honeysucklesteve ‘s 4K writing challenge💕 let me know if any warnings need to be added and feel free to leave feedback! [collage was made by me and fic was inspired by In and Out of Love ; by Oh Wonder] ALSO I TRIED PUTTING A READ MORE TAB AND DUMBLR WONT ACCEPT IT

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“That’s the last one, June Bug.” Nat wrapped her in a hug.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” She asks and scans Jupiter's features for doubt.

“Yeah, eventually. I’ve done it before,” Juniper says with a sigh. “Just never thought it would be like this.”

“Me either, kiddo.”

The first night was the worst and all she could do was cry. Memories carved at her until all that was left was a quivering girl.

Juniper tries to remember where it all went wrong. Where did it all break? Surrounded by her belongings, she felt truly homeless. It was as if her home had been ripped from her hands.

The sun pulls her from the floor. It’s bright beams shining through the brownstone’s windows. It gave her the courage to stand up and slowly unpack. She thought that sifting through her things beforehand was hard but now the absence hit harder.

His coffee mug.

She always hated that blue, chipped mug; his first gift from Natasha, when he came out of the ice. The ceramic was all scuffed and it had permanent coffee rings on the inside. Now, she would give anything to hold it in her hands. Feel the warmth of his black coffee, two sugars.

Slowly, her books filled the shelves and her clothes spilled into the closet. The cozy bedding she had once loved, looked wrong.

“I can’t do this.” Juniper’s face falls into her hands.

Her breakdown is cut short by a curt knock. The air in her lungs locks up. What if it's him? Did he change his mind?

She quickly smoothed her hair, shaking it out, and wiped away the tears.

“Coming!” Her voice sounded clear despite the war of screams it faced hours earlier.

Her hands shook, reaching for the knob but she blew out a breath and swung open the door.

“Hey, I’m from next door and saw you moving in. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

Juniper shoved the disappointment away and took in the man before her. His dark hair was curly, falling across his forehead leading to bright blue eyes speckled with brown.

“Hi, I’m Juniper.” She stuck out her hand and he took it with a soft grip.

“Judah,” he smiles and she forces a tight one back. “You okay?”

She flinches at the question and scolds herself for it.

“Yeah, just stressed from unpacking and the move.” Juniper takes back her hand and waves it nonchalantly.

“You sure? I can always help if you want.”

“Help?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone.

“Help you unpack? Looks like you had a lot of boxes but I don’t wanna be too forward.” He holds his hands up in innocence.

Juniper pulled her lip between her teeth looking back at the boxes still piled in her foyer then back to Judah. He looked muscular enough. His worn shirt did little to hide the contours of his shoulders and arms.

“Uh, I think I could use some help actually.”

She stepped back opening the door enough so he could slip in.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she mumbled, slipping past him to sweep tissues from last night into her arms.

“Don’t worry about it.” He flashes her a smile and she weakly nods. “You have a nice unit. The setup is a little different than mine but mostly the same.”

She didn’t want small talk. She wanted to be busy.

“Do you wanna start over here?” She asks and he turns to meet her stare.

“Uh, yeah sure.”

“These two need to go upstairs, the second door on the right.”

“Gotcha.” he flashes her a wink before squatting and lifting the boxes like they were nothing.

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Judah seemed to pick up on the fact she didn’t wanna talk. Juniper directed and he did it; occasionally cracking jokes about her taste in tourist knickknacks.

“Hey, I’m gonna order some pizza. That's good with you?” She asks him when the sun starts to sink.

“Sounds delicious,” he quips, making himself comfortable on the velvet couch.

“Comfy?” She teases and he sighs leaning back even further, spreading his legs taking up half the couch.

He was huge standing and even bigger sprawled out like a baby.

“The comfiest.”

After calling in the pizza she flopped next to him occupying the other half of the couch.

“So, what made you move?”

The question makes her raise up and look at him. He still has his eyes closed and is stretched out.

“It’s complicated,” she blurts and he cracks open one eye at her.

“I’m listening,” he says softly.

“I got broken up with.” The words sound foreign and they sting even worse. “Uh, we had been together a year ago yesterday. Well, it would have been a year.”

“Their loss.”

The words make her snort in disbelief.

“So untrue but thanks for the pity.”

Judah sits up and stretches before pivoting his body towards her.

“Look, you are a catch. I wouldn’t have spent a whole day helping a stranger unpack unless I felt they deserved it.”

“You admit that you did this to get in my pants?” She jokes and he shrugs.

“Wasn’t a part of the plans but I do enjoy some spontaneity.” The drop in voice made a chill run across her skin.

“Oh.”

A rough laugh leaves his chest and his hand catches hers.

“Listen, whoever this person was, obviously didn’t see your worth. Sometimes things don’t work out and it's for the best.” He pauses for a beat. “Besides, how would I have ever met you, Berry.”

“Berry?” She asks with a quirked brow.

“Like Juniper berry.”

“That’s a new one,” she says with a smile. “I like it.”

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6 Months Later

“Jude, c'mon share,” Juniper whined, reaching for the pizza slice.

She was currently climbing over the behemoth of a man trying to get a bite.

“You already had your bite,” he protested twisting away from her on the couch.

A determined look settled on her face.

“Oh no, not that look.” Judah stretched trying to wiggle away but she was already on top of him.

Luckily they were at his house because her couch would have never handled this roughhousing. Her knees landed on either side of his waist and she pressed his chest down with one hand, reaching with the other.

“Berry, this is my slice!”

“Not for much longer,” she says with a grin. She grabs the slice and takes a bite. “Mmmm,” she moans and Judah stills under her.

“That good?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums around the bite and then offers him one.

“You go ahead, Berry.” He smiles and his hands land on her hips.

“Jude, you’re the best.” She juts out her lip giving him the sweetest pout.

He could feel the warmth of her skin on his forearms, her thighs exposed by her sleep shorts and her well-worn shirt slipped down the smooth column of her neck onto her shoulder.

No matter what time of day she looked breathtaking. Dark ebony hair, crystal clear eyes that looked like starlight. He wanted to tell her these things but when they met she was still so broken.

“I was gonna ask you a favor actually,” she mutters, putting the slice back over into the empty box.

“Whatcha need?” He thumbs rubbed smooth circles on her thighs and she steadied herself with her hands on his chest.

“There is this party coming up. My friend Natasha’s birthday and I really wanna go but not alone.”

“The scary one?”

Juniper laughs and shakes her head yes.

“Yeah, the scary one. Anyway, would you wanna be my date?” She rushes the last couple of words thinking her heart might explode.

“Your date?” Judah asks and she cringes.

“Never mind, I knew I shouldn't have asked because now things are-“ her words are cut off by him pulling her into a tight hug

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She murmurs pressed against his chest.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, pressing a kiss to her hair.

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Steve wasn’t expecting to see her and damn did she look good. The way his heart flitted to his stomach and made him want to hurl; it surprised him. Junie was glowing. Her hair was just the way he liked it, up in the front exposing her jawline and plump lips. It cascades down her back as silk catching gleams of light.

She hadn’t even seen him yet and he could make out the faint scrunch of her nose when she hugged Sam, laughing.

He missed her.

The rough sting of reality pierced him when an arm snakes around her waist pulling her close.

He didn’t recognize the guy and frankly could care less who he was. All he wanted to do right now was rip his hands off of his Junie. Juniper smiled up at him and leaned into his touch.

Steve didn’t even know the glass in his hand had shattered until her eyes snapped to meet his. The flash of realization and the immediate hard gaze cut him worse than any broken glass.

“C’mon let’s get some air punk.”

Bucky slings his arm around Steve’s shoulder steering him towards the balcony. Steve’s shaking the scotch from his hand and wiping it on his jeans when the door slides shut.

“Dammit.” He grits out and Bucky watches as he slams his palms against the railing. “Do you know who he is?”

“Steve,” Bucky starts but Steve cuts him off.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t think that’s for the best.”

“Awh, c’mon cut the bullshit.”

“He is her date.”

The confirmation makes him drop his head looking at the busy street below.

“His name’s Judah. She introduced me earlier while you were between eye-fucking her and murdering him.”

Steve scoffs and Bucky lets out a dry laugh.

“You asked me for the truth pal.”

“Is she,” he pauses, “happy?”

“Seems to be.”

Steve hums to himself and feels the ache settle in his chest. She was happy without him. It had been 6 months and he still couldn’t be bothered to take her body wash out of his shower. He’d hate to admit when he got really bad and the missions stopped, he sat with water pouring, and the cap popped open. Now and then he’d feel like she was there. That he would open his eyes and see her like out of a movie.

“Why are you getting so upset about this? You broke up with her.” Bucky’s words are harsh but true.

“I did it for her safety.”

“Bullshit, if that were the truth she would still live in the compound surrounded by people to keep her safe.”

He stews in the silence and Bucky grips his shoulder.

“To be as old as you are, you sure can be an idiot.”

A humorless laugh leaves Steve and he drops his head, wondering what it would be like if he was less of an idiot.

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Juniper sipped her drink as Nat slid into the barstool next to her.

“Hey,” She says grinning at her.

“Hi, birthday girl!” Junie abandons her drink pulling Nat into a tight hug. “Feels like it’s been forever since I have seen you.”

“Probably, because you have a hunk keeping you company.”

Juniper’s face flushed and Nat nudged her with a grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She says taking a sip of her drink.

“Seriously, though I’m happy for you.”

Nat watches as Juniper nods muttering a thank you.

“Now, what’s on your mind June Bug?”

“Nothing,” She says, shooting her friend a quick smile.

Natasha quirks a brow at her and watches as Juniper’s eyes flit to the balcony where Steve had left with Bucky.

“He has been a mess too.”

Juniper’s heart stutters not expecting to hear those words.

“I don’t know why he is such an idiot but he does still love,” Nat starts but she is cut off.

“I can’t hear this right now.” Juniper downs her drink and slides it back to the bartender. “Sorry, I need a minute.”

The party is booming; her eyes scan the crowd for Judah but he is nowhere to be found. Taking deep measured breaths her legs carry her down the hall to the elevators.

“Stop freaking out,” She mutters to herself.

“Are you okay?”

The familiar voice makes her jump and squeezes her eyes shut. If only she could will him away.

“Go away.”

“Are you okay? I am not leaving you here like this, Junie.” Steve’s voice was even and calm.

“That’s absolutely rich coming from you,” She grits out pressing the elevator button. “Why are you here? Huh? Come to laugh at what a mess I am.”

“What?” Steve asks his brow furrowing with confusion. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Just forget it,” Juniper says as the elevator door opens with a ding. “Have a good night, Rogers.”

“Wait, just a second.”

She escapes into the elevator but his boot wedges into the closing doors. Up close she can see the creases of his worry and the storm brewing in the blue of his eyes. His hair messy; disheveled by his raking fingers she guesses.

“Talk to me.” His gaze burns into her.

Even with the frown on her face, she was gorgeous. The lighting of the party didn’t do her justice. Here he saw the peach dusting her cheeks and the shine of her ruby lips.

“Why should I?” Her eyebrows pinch together and he doesn’t respond. “You broke up with me, Steve.”

“I only wanted to keep you safe,” He says letting the doors close and essentially forcing them in proximity. “That has always been my priority.”

“Safe? Did you forget I had worked alongside you for three years? I am capable of guarding my own safety.” She reaches for the buttons but his hand catches her wrist.

“When things get bad, all I can think about is you. All I want is to see you, talk to you,” He says softly. “Sometimes, I still can hear you. Singing that awful song in the shower.” A sad smile flits across his lips. “I dream about you. Dream that I’ll wake up and you’ll be there.”

“Steve,” She protests and he pulls her closer.

“I think about kissing you.” His touch feels like an old habit she could never shake. “Think about laying you down and kissing every inch of you. God, you’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”

Juniper can see his tongue pressing against his bottom lip and the drag of it across his teeth. Her stomach buzzes. Months ago she would have pulled him into herself like so many times before; but now, her skin crawls.

Why was he doing this now?

“Steve.” She pulls her wrist from his grasp. “I have someone now. He wants me.”

Steve recoils at her words and clenches his fist.

“It’s time for you to move on.” She can see the anger and confusion lacing his features. “It’s not easy, trust me. It’s painful and feels like the worst kind of betrayal.”

“I love you.”

His words make her freeze, curdling the contents of her stomach and making her tongue heavy with unspoken words.

“Steve,” She whispers and she cradles his cheek for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Juniper presses the open door button and escapes him taking a gracious gasp of air.

˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Judah finds her coming back into the party.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” He says and frowns when he sees the tears clouding her eyes. “Berry, what’s wrong?”

“I just, I,” She gasps trying to catch her breath.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.” Judah pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her small form. “Let’s get you home.”

Juniper wanted so desperately to feel better at those words but her home wasn’t a place.

It is a person.

Just some tags, pls don’t feel pressure to read 🖤

@speechlessxx @mypoisonedvine @buckycuddlebuddy @nsfwsebbie @worksby-d @redgillan @whitestarbucky @cloudystevie

#honeybunswritingchallenge #honeysucklesteve #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #king steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fic: in and out of love #clarkslibrary #my writing #my fic #my oc character

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footballxwrites · 4 years ago

Note

Could I get a Ben Chilwell imagine, with the prompt being ‘18’ by One Direction please? x

Since we were 18

Background info: They’ve been together since their school/ college and Uni days until it all gets too much for him and he ends it. They then see each other a few years later and turns out he never got over her, I don’t know if I like this or it makes sense..but I hope you enjoy reading it anyways! ♡

12 June 2015

Age 18

It was a summer romance where everything was perfect, just young, naive love and the world was your oyster so it seemed. No responsibilities, no worries, no rules, just two young souls who were free to follow their dreams, you taking A-Levels whilst he signed pro for his boyhood club, yous were in a fortunate position and couldn’t have wish for anything more.

But then adulthood hit, the big 18 came around and college ended which meant it was off to Uni for you, in hopes of fulfilling your dream career. Ben was flying with his job, raking in the popularity and fame and enjoying what he was doing for a living.

It definitely put a strain in your relationship to say the least with the four hour round journey yous had to make to see each other every other week of whenever you could in between your busy schedules, but it was worth it, all of it was. The love never faded and the feelings weren’t ever lost even after being told it would never last by everyone, including those closest to you. Yous took a chance, a big one that’s for sure, but you were willing to take the risk and prove just how wrong they were and show them you and Ben were in it for the long run, he always told you he knew you’d be fine...

5 August 2017

Age 20

...Two years later and there yous were, still living love in slow motion and completely obsessed by one another, living it up in your three bedroom apartment settled just outside the city of Leicester, not to mention you graduating with a degree and finding the perfect little job and him still growing in the football world, even winning the league last season.

The two of you had now gotten used to the joys of being an adult, I mean of course it came with the boring downsides of paying the bills and taxes but overall it was a great time to be alive. The excitement and surprise was still there for you both, the weekly date nights, the last min getaways, the holidays abroad in that humid Spanish sun every Brit loves to see, the anniversary celebrations, even just the cosy nights on snuggled up on the sofa with a takeaway...the list was never ending.

2 Feb 2018

Age 21

Where all the pointless arguments began and the staying out late, sometimes not even coming home till morning, and it all seemed to go downhill. The days of waking up entangled in his arms to the sound of his soft snores were well and truly over, in fact you’d be lucky to open your eyes and see him actually in bed next to you because by god that was a rare sight. It would start with the simple question of “where’ve you been” or “can we talk” before the two of you would be at each other’s throat’s, throwing around the insults and little digs, eventually ending in someone walking out.

The day came when it was time to call it quits, well when he called it quits, and the words you never thought would fall from his lips did, those two words that tore your heart apart, “it’s over”. Of course you were putting up a fight, I mean it felt like three years of your life just went down the drain and for what, because he randomly decided he no longer loved you?

That night you packed your bags were gone, from both his life and your home city, needing a fresh start to focus on you and you alone. At the end of your day, apart from your job nothing else was keeping you in Leicester and you fancied a change, soon moving down London into a high class apartment and place of work and finally feeling yourself and fulfilling that dream you had back when you were 18.

As for Ben, you could pray you’d never come across him again, for both your sakes...

5 March 2021

“Wait, please!” you heard from behind you as you tried to make a run for it, but with crowds of people all shoving their way out of the stadium it was almost impossible to get away in time. You soon gave in and turned around to be met with him in all his sweaty glory and ruffled up hair, looking the same the he did all those years ago, except with less of a baby face and a beard. Did you regret coming here today? Yes, one hundred percent yes and if you could go back in time 2 hours earlier, you defo wouldn’t be in the stands at Stamford Bridge right now.

“What are you doing here” he, rather breathlessly, spoke with a small smile creeping upon his mouth, “oh you know just to watch the match, Y/F/N happens to support the blues and I was dragged along here” you casually replied, no expression on your face mainly because you had no idea how you were feeling, before he grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side out of view of the crowds. “Well it’s nice to see you...it’s been a while” he gleamed as you gently nodded, fiddling with your fingers trying to figure a way out of the awkward situation, “yeah...erm, I see the football’s being nice to you” you sighed, looking over to the pitch as he laughed.

“Yeah I guess it’s been alright, I got lucky with how everything went...job wise” he quickly added, seeing a discreet frown slip along your lips, “it’s definitely been more than alright, but I’m happy for you” you half smiled, avoiding eye contact as he cleared his throat. “Anyways, what’ve you been up to then since...you know” he mumbled as you shrugged, “Moved down here, went into management and worked abroad for a bit”.

“That’s amazing, and you did that all alone” he hinted, intrigued to know if anyone had filled his spot in your life, “Yes, but I ca-can’t do this Ben” you stuttered, about to walk away so you didn’t break down in tears, but soon being stopped when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and hold you close.

“I miss you...” he whispered, trailing off as you softly sobbed into his heart, “I know...but we’ve been there and it didn’t work, we’re not 18 anymore Ben” you mumbled, “we’re a long way from the playground” he gently laughed as you pulled away from his touch. “Why did we end up like this, going our separate way? Everything was so perfect back then” you reminisced, letting a small gasp, “Then give me another chance, like you say we’re older, we have our lives in order, what’s there to risk?” he asked as you remained quite speechless, not sure of your answer. “I wanna love like you made me feel when were 18”....

———————

@kingkepa @champagne-coys @jamesmaddiscnx @masonmounts @footballcloud @hoely-pavard @alexajanecollins @footballerimaginess @kierantierncy

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rhapshie · 4 years ago

Text

This was from a writing challenge I had in my discord server a while back. Never really shared it outside, so I thought I’ll throw it here. I don’t think I’ll ever post it on my AO3

Title: - Rating: M Pairing: Aomine/Kagami TW: Suicide. The other dies in the end too but due to an unrelated incidence.

17 January.

Am I okay? I feel like I'm falling back down. I never knew how much I like his presence until he's not there anymore.

Kagami was pretty sure he was in love.

But no one should take his word for it. After all, he didn't know the first thing about romance, so this could just be a stupid infatuation for all he knew, but he really couldn't help it. Aomine was... unreal. He was convinced that the Touou player wasn't human because how could someone be so dazzling? It didn't even matter that he had such a cocky attitude. If anything, it made everything that much better.

Because what was wrong with confidence when he had the skill to back it up? Besides, Kagami found that kind of sexy.

In fear of his own emotion, he hid.

Over the course of his second year, he slowly grew more and more distant from Aomine after convincing himself that this was for the best. It would be much easier on his heart if he never confessed, therefore he'd never get rejected.

That didn't stop him from pining from afar, though.

21 March.

Satsuki suspects that something's up but I really don't wanna worry her more than I already do.

It all happened too quickly and too suddenly.

Kagami was eighteen years old, attending the last year of high school in Seirin when he felt something was amiss. Initially, he ignored it, thinking that the sudden throbbing in his heart was just his imagination and he continued playing basketball. Interhigh was just around the corner and their first opponent was Touou, so he couldn't afford to get distracted.

However, the nausea persisted throughout the night. Kagami tossed and turned in his bed as he wondered what could possibly cause such agitation. Cold sweat ran along his back as he forced himself to get some shut-eye only to finally succeed at too-late o'clock.

Something was seriously not right, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly.

1 April

I hate this. I don't know what the point is anymore. There's only so much that basketball can numb and I'm fucking hurting all over. I don't know how to reconnect with Tetsu and the others and I damn well don't wanna go to Kagami. Where is he anyway? Haven't seen him around lately...

Aomine wasn't there for their match.

And he wasn't the only one absent either. The spot next to Harasawa where Momoi usually sat was empty and the entirety of Touou seemed extremely distracted. Their focus was at an all-time low and they looked uncharacteristically distracted. Was it simply because of their missing ace? Kagami had a feeling that it was something else entirely. Judging from Kuroko's body language that conveyed discomfort, the redhead grew more certain that something else was gnawing on them.

No one wanted to tell him where Aomine was. They all simply turned their heads the other way and walked away, frustrating Kagami to no end. While he knew that they didn't look like the best buddies, he respected the other power forward. Kagami would go as far as to admit that he had a massive crush on Aomine.

Of course, it wasn't something he'd say out loud. In fact, instead of acting on it, he chose to stay as far away as possible. He figured that if he never showed any affection, he wouldn't have to get rejected. Better safe than sorry. Aomine looked like he was far from gay, so Kagami wanted to spare himself the heartache.

He knew he had no right to pry, but he felt like he deserved to know why Aomine didn't come.

13 May

All I do is hurt everyone near me even when they're just trying to help. Maybe it's better if I don't ask for help... It'll just be a pain in the ass. At the end of the day, it's my problem. I got no rights dragging other people into it, especially after what I've done. I'm so fucking tired. I'm so sick of feeling like this. If it wasn't for basketball, I... maybe I'd be long dead or something. Guess I'll have no choice but to keep playing.

Gone.

He was gone.

There was a deafening ringing in Kagami's ears when Momoi broke the news that Aomine had passed away. He had overdosed on paracetamol the night before the match. His parents were away on a business trip, so he wasn't found until Momoi broke into her childhood friend's place and saw Aomine's unconscious body in the kitchen. His skin was pale, deathly blue and icy cold.

Kagami didn't know what to say or how to react, so he only stood there.

He didn't cry. He couldn't.

11 June

I can't sleep. My head hurts. It's so pathetic but I feel so lonely... I still haven't told anyone, but I think I really should see a psychologist.

In the coffin lied Aomine's dead body. His silky blue hair was neatly brushed and there was no crease on his forehead. It was an unfamiliar sight for Kagami who could only stare at the man who would never again look at him with his electric navy eyes. Kagami would never again face him in a heated battle, would never again scream or be screamed at. There would be none of that infuriating lopsided smirk, that mocking laughter or the obsolete 'the only one who can beat me is me'.

He should be happy to finally be rid of Aomine's cocky attitude, but he wasn't.

Because it meant he would never see Aomine in his raw form, glistening in sweat and the joy of a child as he played the sport he loved ever again, nor one of his rare sincere smiles. There would be none of that husky voice haunting him at night when he only had his right hand as a company. Soon, the seat that Aomine occupied in Maji burger when they had dinner with the rest of the Generation of Miracles would be empty.

Kagami once again stared at the man who'd never again open his eyes. He looked so peaceful in death, unlike how he usually carried himself when he was alive and breathing.

And that was what hurt Kagami the most.

19 June

I can't do this anymore. No matter where I look, I don't see anyone who can help me. Besides, it's embarrassing to talk to them about this... shit. And I don't have money for psychologists either. Why are they so expensive? I sure as hell can't ask mum and dad because they'll end up grilling me about it.

In the months following Aomine's death—suicide, Kagami felt empty.

They found a journal under the man's pillow that detailed his slow spiral into depression. While he had his good days and things looked promising a couple of years ago when he finally regained the love of basketball that he thought he had lost forever, it didn't last.

He thought about all the missed opportunities that metastasised into regrets. There were multiple occasions when he was able to lend a helping hand, but all he ever did was chicken out. He was too scared of his own feelings for Aomine that he ended up running away.

Kagami wondered if he had talked more to him, he'd still be here right now. Maybe he was part of the reason why Aomine killed himself.

1 July

I'm getting really worried... The voices in my head won't stop. Earlier I had to call Satsuki just so I can talk to someone. I don't wanna worry her... I really don't. But between her and my parents... I guess I don't have a choice.

They said time healed all wounds, but Kagami started to suspect that maybe some wounds were simply too deep to ever disappear.

It had been too many years since Aomine's untimely death and he could barely remember the guy's face or voice anymore, but it never hurt any less when he remembered the arrogant Touou ace.

"Papa!"

Kagami looked away from the newspaper on his hand when he heard his little girl running towards him with glee. Her fingers were stubby and she was still unbalanced on her feet. The sight never ceased to warm his heart.

Despite living with his beautiful wife that he didn't deserve, Kagami never really truly let go of his past. He'd done well concealing it, but he knew that his wife suspected that something was up.

There were lingering what-if's spinning in his head. If he had asked Aomine for a one-on-one that evening, maybe none of this would ever happen. Maybe right now, they'd be living together with a child of their own. Or maybe they'd still be friends, rivals, whatever.

Maybe if they celebrated their birthdays together, maybe if Kagami gave him that box of homemade chocolate hiding in his fridge for valentine's, maybe if they spent one more day together in Maji's, maybe Aomine would still be alive right now. Even if they ended up drifting apart or hated each other's guts, it would be much better than this.

It was stupid to wallow in regret, he knew.

However, the diary that Momoi insisted he kept burned a hole in the nightstand. It was a grim reminder of his failure; of his cowardice that cost him the one person he wanted to see smile.

6 August

What would he say if he were here?

Where did he go, seriously... it's been so long since we've last met or talked.

I guess it's the interhigh soon. Maybe I'll see him again then.

He didn't even know when he started to grow such intense feelings for Aomine. For years he searched, but could never really pinpoint the exact time.

"Kagami-kun, it's time to go." Kuroko gently put a hand on the door and glanced at his old friend with a pair of sympathetic eyes that turned even more mellow when he saw the worn diary on Kagami's lap. "Don't you think you've carried this weight enough?"

The redhead stared at the wrinkly paper before he put it neatly in his suitcase on top of his clothes. "I'll carry it to my grave."

"It wasn't your fault." Said the lithe male with a monotone voice, but full of sadness for those who knew him.

Maybe if Kuroko actually read through the diary, he'd change his mind, Kagami thought.

12 August

I really wanna tell him how much I like talking to him.

This is so stupid.

I texted him but he never replied. It's been 3 weeks.

Maybe he hates me now.

He knew that one of these days, he'd get himself in a pickle he'd never get out of. Today so happened to be one of those days.

Regardless of what would happen, he was happy that he had divorced his wife and she had the custody of their daughter. As for his friends... well, they'd live. Everyone knew what being a firefighter would entail. Lots of rescuing cats from the tree, fetching lost keys from the gutters, running into a burning building and in some cases...

Death.

Yeah, that was a thing too.

With a forced laughter, Kagami curled his head under his chest to avoid inhaling more smoke than he already did. However, all openings were sealed and he had nowhere else to go.

He really should've chosen another path. NBA, for one. By now, he'd probably be past his prime. 35 years old. He'd be retired with a lot of money. Definitely more than he would ever get by working as a firefighter.

As the fire licked the space around him and burnt wood toppling down from the ceiling, Kagami waited for the moment when one would crush him and put him out of his misery. Or maybe his friends would come in and drag him out.

"...gami..."

The redhead lied on his stomach, eyes glassy as he watched the building structure crashed down all around him.

"Oi, Bakagami! How long are you gonna sulk for?"

"I'm not sulking..." He mumbled under his breath. "...Ahomine."

Ah, yeah. That was what he sounded like. Low, husky and seductive voice that he couldn't get enough of.

"C'mon, let's play." Those lips upturned into a grin and even though the rest of his face was obscured by the light, Kagami could clearly see beautiful deep blue eyes and frown lines on his forehead. "You were the one who bugged me, so just get up already."

"You're not an early riser, idiot. Why are you so—" he coughed after a particularly nasty inhale," so eager..."

"Hurry or I guess we won't play. I'll give you five minutes."

"Five minutes? I'll whoop your ass in three." He snorted inbetween his coughing fit.

"After all that talk you're just gonna lie there? I know you only had like, 3 hours sleep, but I thought you've been looking forward to this."

He felt his eyes slowly closing.

"Daiki..." He heaved tiredly. A piece of wood fell on his thigh and he bit out a scream when it charred his protective gear. Even through it, he felt the deathly heat. "I—Argh!" He didn't even know what the fuck that was but he was pretty sure it crushed his left leg. "I'm sorry. I'll be there soon."

"Fine," The light slowly eased as Aomine's head blocked the source of light to create a halo. Tanned skin, boyish grin and eyes that were positively brimming with life. "I'll wait for you."

15 August

If there's a life after death.

I wonder if they play basketball?

If they do, maybe I'll get to play with him again one day.

#aokaga #aomine daiki #kagami taiga #knb #mine

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leafs-lover · 4 years ago

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 20

Series Masterlist

Chapter 20

A/N: I went and made some small changes and didn’t hit the spell check button, so sorry! Italics are your thoughts

Summary: The season has ended and you both have some friends visit before you head to Denmark for a few weeks.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, oral (male and female) masturbation

Word Count: 4500

June 12, 2023

You stand in the laundry room folding clothes when you hear voices in the living room. You walk out to greet them.

“Hey (Y/N)” you hear Mitch and Auston say as you walk over to hug them.

The playoffs have ended for both teams, and Fred invited his old teammates down for a few days before summer kicks off.

“Wow you’re so big" Auston says as Oliver comes running over to greet them.

“Yeah well look at his dad, I had no doubt he would be tall" you joke. After hanging out for a few minutes you wander to finish the laundry you started leaving the boys to catch up. As you fold and put away the laundry you hear parts of the conversation, but you’re trying not to eavesdrop.

“Yeah, I don’t really know when we got together. Some time around new years, maybe a little later." a smile comes across your face as you can hear Fred’s excitement.

“We had a bump or two. But everything is really good now”

“She moved back in a few weeks ago"

“Where do you see things going?

You keep working away at the laundry when hear the boys laughing and talking to Oliver. Thinking it’s safe and you won’t interrupt any conversations about you, you join the boys in the living room. You see all boys on their hands and knees, playing mini sticks.

“Now that an adult is here I’m going to get changed” Fred says kissing your head.

“Dude I’m an adult!” Mitch exclaims, Fred throws his head back laughing as he leaves the room. “So how are you (Y/N/N)?”

“Things are good, sometimes a little crazy with an 18 month old but good.”

“How has it been since coming back here?” Auston asks.

“It’s been really good. I think it’s been really good for him too” you say nodding to Oliver. “He would get super upset when he would have to leave one of us, when he would come back to my place he wouldn’t leave my side for almost an entire day. I was actually getting worried about how he would be as he got older. But now we are both around all the time he is better, not such a momma's boy" you joke.

“That’s good; don’t want all the other babies making fun of you for being a momma’s boy” Auston says tickling Oliver.

“Says the biggest momma’s boy ever" Fred says returning to the living room causing everyone to laugh. “Ready guys?”

Fred kisses Oliver goodbye before turning to you to place a kiss on your lips. The boys head out for a round of golf leaving you and Oliver alone. You head to the park, and enjoy the summer weather that is beginning in Pittsburgh.

A few nights later you are sitting on the balcony enjoying some drinks. Oliver is asleep in his crib, and Mitch left earlier in the day leaving you two and Auston who is planning to leave the following morning. Auston leaves to get another drink; Fred pulls you onto his lap you can smell the whiskey on his breath.

Fred places a sloppy kiss on your lips, you pull back and smile at him.

“What” he asks placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Nothing” you respond kissing his nose, noticing the redness in his cheeks. “You’re a little drunk eh?” you tease.

Fred leans in and kisses you, ignoring your comment “I can’t wait to show you how much you mean to me tonight” he says stroking your hair. It sends shivers down your spine as wetness pools in your core. With the boys here you haven’t had much time alone, and you haven’t done anything with your time for fear of being heard.

“Babe Auston is here" you respond.

“Pretty sure he knows we have sex dear.” Just as you’re about to respond you hear laughing behind you, as the screen door closes. “Yeah kind of figured that out when you got pregnant (Y/N/N).”

“See nothing to worry about" Freddie chuckles in your ear.

“Yeah he knows but he doesn’t need to hear us" you laugh.

“Yeah I’d rather not, I -"

“How else am I supposed to put another baby in you if we don’t have sex babe?” Your eyes go wide at his words. You haven’t had any discussions of a second baby, you just moved back in.

“Are you guys trying for a second baby?” Auston asks sitting down, handing Fred another drink.

“No we are not!” you quickly exclaim. “I guess you could say we are practicing, all the fun but still using protection.”

“Yeah but we could stop, you know pull the goalie and see what happens” he chuckles at his own pun.

You roll your eyes. “I know what will happen Fred, it happened once before. He is 19 months, looks identical to you, has your gorgeous brown eyes and red hair" you say running your hands through his hair.

“Yeah and the next one will be a little girl with your (Y/H/C) hair, and your beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes, your smile just a mini version of you. Only thing she’ll take from me is my last name” he says kissing your neck.

“You sure you want a daughter that looks like me around? There are boys who grow up to be like Auston?” you tease.

“Hey!”

You and Fred laugh. “She’d be fine, if she is anything like you she’ll put boys like him in their place no problem.”

“I’m literally right here guys” Auston scoffs. You laugh again as you lean into Fred’s chest.

“Just get really drunk, worked last time” Auston jokes.

Fred laughs “I do get her drunk, she changed her birth control. Now it doesn’t matter what happens she is always protected.”

“Well the last time I screwed up a baby came. I don’t want another one until I’m ready. Always imagined I’d be married, have the same last name as my kids.” “I can go get ordained right now if you’d like” Auston quickly jokes.

“I’ll put a ring on your finger one day babe don’t you worry. I just think Ollie should be a big brother, he’d be the best big brother” Fred starts. “There is such as gap with me and my siblings I don’t want that for mine. And I’m going to be 34, you’ll be 33. Seems like we should get cracking if we want more babies.”

You scoff “did you just use my biological clock against me?”

The three of you sit outside and continue laughing and drinking. A little while later you all head in for the night, you walk into the bathroom and begin your night routine. You notice Fred is leaning in the doorway watching you wash your face.

You stick your ass out a little farther as you bend over to rinse water on your face. You head Fred grumble some swear words and quickly feel his hand on your hips. You stand up ignoring Fred and reach for the towel to dry your face, Fred leans down to your ear “I know what you’re doing” we growls.

You make eye contact with him in the mirror “I have no idea what you’re talking about” you respond hanging up the towel. He spins you around into his chest and smirks down at you. Without breaking eye contact he pulls his t-shirt off revealing his toned chest. You take a deep breath and swallow, trying to act unfazed by his actions.

Fred see’s through you though and knows he has you practically falling over him. “I’m gonna shower” he says dropping his shorts and boxers “wanna join me?”

You giggle as you peel your shirt over your head following him in. When he closes the door he pulls you in for a deep kiss as your hand slides down to his hardening member and you begin stroking it. He moans into the kiss as his hand strokes over your folds.

You know that the shower will likely cover some of the sounds, but you only came inside 5 minutes ago. You don’t know Auston that much, and would rather he not hear you having sex right now. You also know that Fred has been hard for the past couple days, and has been trying to find a moment to sneak away with you, but you have rejected his attempts. Not without some teasing first though.

Because of your teasing you know he is painfully hard, and if you let him he will fuck you hard into the tile wall. Before he has the opportunity to slide his large fingers in, and make you forget all logic to not doing that you drop to your knees.

You hear him mumble as you stare at his hard member. Thick and throbbing; white pre-cum leaking out the top. You bring your tongue to his tip licking it off. You stare up at him through your lashes as you see him brace himself on the shower wall.

You lick a stripe up the underside of him, his head falls back. You pull your mouth off and suck on his pubic bone. You pepper kisses all around his cock before you finally return to him. You place a light kiss to the tip, before sliding him fully inside your mouth.

You begin to bob on his hard cock as he moans out. He grabs your hair and pulls it back from your face so he can better watch as you continue still looking up at him. His eyes close as Danish swear words fall from his mouth. You feel your arousal pooling in your core so you slide two fingers down to your folds. You slide them across your heat gathering up your juices before slipping them in as you moan around his cock. You start thrusting inside yourself as you swirl around his dick, him hitting the back of your throat.

You reach around to his ass giving it a light squeeze as he chuckles, then you lightly push him forward. He takes the hint and begins to slowly fuck into your mouth, hitting your tonsils.

You increase the speed of your fingers, but you know it will be a while before you reach your orgasm. Your two fingers pale in comparison to Fred’s. His large hands have actually made it difficult for you to masturbate as you just can’t get the same stretch of the walls.

You decide to slide a third finger in. As you slide it in, Fred snaps his hips forward causing you to gag slightly. Spit is dribbling down your chin as you continue pumping your fingers in and out.

The third finger was just what you needed; you feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Fred grips tightly on your hair, indicating he is almost done. You bring your thumb up to rub your clit, moaning loudly around him.

Your moan causes Freddie to look down past your face “babe…are you -" he can barely form words.

“Hmm” you hum around his dick as he continues to fuck into your mouth.

“Fuck hell babe, you close?” “Mhm” you hum in response as you take your hand from his ass and bring it to massage his balls. You feel his warm cum hit the back of your throat as your orgasm washes over you. You moan loudly around his dick as you keep your fingers inside you.

You pump your fingers, drawing out your high as Fred’s hips slow. You lick the remaining cum from him and pull your fingers out of you.

“Fuck your something else” he says pulling you to your feet to wash your hair.

When you crawl into bed you should be tired from the drinking and your shower activities. But you can’t turn your brain off.

Another kid?

Was he just drunk? He doesn’t normally drink that much whiskey, and the last time you saw him, it lead to Oliver. So many his judgment was clouded.

But it seemed like he had given it some thought before tonight.

You hadn’t really thought much of it, yeah you had known each other for over two years, had a kid together. But really you only had been together for 5 months or so, maybe even less. If you went from the time you gave him a key then it was only 4 months.

It’s hard to pinpoint the day. Crazy to think of kids after that short of a time. In any other relationship you would run if someone mentioned having kids that soon. But this wasn’t any normal relationship, you already had a kid together.

You lie awake for a few hours, you listen to Fred’s soft snores as they fill the room. Normally listening to his breathing will calm your anxiety, but right now nothing will. You think a run could help, but at this time of night you know it’s a bad idea.

You stare at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. You don’t know when, but eventually you manage to doze off.

June 22, 2023

You are waiting at the airport when you hear “(Y/N/N)!” You look up to see Allie and Carlee running towards you.

“You didn’t bring Oliver?” Allie questions wrapping you in a hug first.

“No he is at home napping, figured it would be easier without him to get lunch.”

The women protest slightly because they want to see Oliver first but eventually agree. You help them load their bags before pulling out of the parking garage. You pull up to a restaurant overlooking the beach, you are currently in Los Angeles.

“Yeah we got here a little under a week ago. We came for the US open which was on Father’s day weekend. We decided to stay a little bit before we head to Denmark next week.”

“So how is the little guy doing?”

“Oh he is great, excited to see you guys. He runs full speed all the time, tries to climb everything, he is talking pretty good now too. Pretty smart boy” you say smiling.

“That’s crazy, how has Freddie been?” Allie asks.

“Oh he is amazing, but he always has been a terrific dad. He is always playing with him, he can’t wait to get him in some hockey skates soon” you chuckle.

“But how are things with him?” Like with you two?” Carlee questions.

“They are great. We’ve been together a few months now and it’s been amazing. We have a great relationship; it doesn’t feel like we’ve been together for like four months.”

“Well yeah that’s because it’s been more than 4 months, you had almost 2 years before that” Carlee replies.

“No we haven’t been. We weren’t like together that whole time” you respond.

“You weren’t dating then, but you hooked up all the time. And I know that you didn’t sleep with anyone else for that entire time” Carlee responds.

“Or for a bit before that, it’s been almost 3 years since you slept with someone else” Allie adds.

“Exactly. It’s not a 4 month relationship; it’s so much more than that. You just need to realize that.”

You take a sip from your drink staring at them.

“What aren’t you saying?” Carlee asks. “I’ve known you for 29 years; I know when you are keeping something from me.”

You sigh and sit up straight in your chair. “Last week before we came here we had Auston and Mitch down to visit in Pittsburgh. Well the last night we were all hanging around drinking and Fred mentioned wanting another kid.”

The girls stare at each other before Allie speaks up. “I know you think it’s only been 4 months, but it has been so much more (Y/N/N/). When you were pregnant and told us you were going to Denmark to meet his family I knew then, that you would end up with him. I thought it would happen sooner, but you just needed to get out of your head. Whether you want to admit it or not you have basically been together 2 years. At 2 years it wouldn’t be crazy to be thinking about marriage and babies.”

“But we already have a baby” you reply. “I don’t want to have one just because it’s been 2 years, or so that Oliver can be close in age to his siblings.”

“You honestly think that’s why he wants to have a baby with you?” Carlee asks. “He wants another baby with you because he is ridiculously in love with you. He loves seeing you as a mother, and he wants your love and family to grow.”

“We’re not trying to convince you have another baby” Allie says lightly. “We just want to help you understand his logic and reasoning.” “We also don’t want you to run away again” Carlee jokes causing you to laugh.

“Well I’m not going anywhere, I want this and I want him. But there is still so much to figure out. His family doesn’t really know me, and I don’t think they like me all that much. His mom added me on Instagram, but I think that was just to see Oliver since Fred doesn’t post a lot. And my grandparents are less than understanding about the situation.”

“John and Debbie can fuck off” Carlee replies causing you to chuckle. “They need to recognize its 2023, and families aren’t traditional anymore. You worried about going to Denmark?”

“Yeah. Fred repaired his relationship with his family. I haven’t had much of an opportunity to do that. He also invited my grandparents for a couple days which will be great” you mumble. “His parents came down for some of the playoff games, but it was when I was dealing with the movers so I didn’t get to spend much time with them. Fred didn’t want the distraction either so he put them in a hotel. Now that we are actually together I hope his dad accepts me.”

The next 3 days with your girlfriends goes by well. Fred was always the DD so you could enjoy time with your friends. But also so he could get them drunk so they would tell him stories from nights you’ll never outlive.

“Can’t believe you got arrested" Fred says kissing your collarbone while you brush your teeth one night.

“They released me an hour later and never charged me so it didn’t really count” you say staring at him in the mirror.

“Still, it’s hot” he mumbles “You in the back of a cop car. Handcuffs…”he says trailing his finger down your spine. You lean forward to spit out your toothpaste when your ass grinds against his very hard dick.

He groans, slipping a hand in your shorts sliding his fingers toward your core. You’re eyes go wide “Fred they will hear" you whisper. When planning the trip you thought it would be better to get a house rental because you would be there for over 2 weeks. Since your friends are down the hall, one of them sharing a wall with your bed you haven’t had sex, making you regret that choice.

“You just have to be quiet" he whispers, his hand dancing around your clit.

“I’ve had too many drinks for that” you giggle. “I’m going to shower before bed.” You say walking away to turn on the water.

“Sounds like a good idea” Fred smirks. He pulls his shirt and pants off, leaving him completely naked. He attaches his mouth to your spot below your ear.

“We can’t Fred” you whisper.

He smirks at you before peels your clothes from you and pushes you into the shower.

When he closes the door he pulls you in for a deep kiss as his fingers slide down to your folds. They gently play with your entrance and you immediately forget all reasons to not do this. Your hand slides down his chest to his hardened member, you begin stroking it.

He slips two fingers inside you and begins pumping them, your rock your hips setting a pace.

“Yeah use my hand babe. Fuck my fingers skat” he whispers in your ear. His mouth slides down to your sweet spot and begins to lightly suck on you as you continue rocking into him.

“Fred” you groan, your head falling back.

“Hmm” he says still sucking on your neck. His slips a third finger inside you “this what you want?” he asks gently nips your shoulder.

“Fuck” you mumble. His fingers pull out of you and you bring your eyes to his, a devlish smirk is on his face as he falls to his knees. He brings one of your legs over his shoulder as his mouth clamps on your clit, his lips warm and hot. His tongue parts your folds, he slides his tongue inside you. He begins to lick up your walls as your back is pressed against the cool tile wall.

His tongue swirls around inside of you, painting swirls on your clit as you gently grab his hair. He pushes his tongue fully inside you, beard scraping your legs and his nose is pressed hard into your clit. His tongue continues to do work on you as you moan. His ridged tongue continues to nudge your clit over and over again as you softly pant his name.

You feel the orgasm slowly building inside you, your hand tightens its grip on his hair causing Fred’s tongue to pick up its pace. He is licking up inside you, curling his tongue hitting your sweet spot. He brings his arm over your leg and begins pressing his thumb into your clit.

Your orgasm come crashing over you and Fred’s tongue doesn’t stop until you do. Your gripping his hair so tightly you think you might pull some out. Your eyes roll back into your head as Fred continues working you through your high. Eventually he pulls his face back and looks up to you, you losen your grip on his hair and he lets your leg down.

Your legs are weak as you place a hand on the wall to steady yourself, Fred chuckles standing up to support you. His face is now in the stream of the shower and has washed the remaining juices from his beard. Your head falls onto his chest as he runs a hand through your wet hair.

You stand there for a moment, catching your breath and allowing your legs times to stabilize. Just as you have regained strength he picks you up and pushes you against the cool tile wall before sliding into you. He kisses you to muffle your sounds as you wrap your legs around him moving in unison before climaxing together.

Today is your girlfriends last day with flights leaving around 6pm that night. You wake up at 6:30 that morning and realize Fred’s side is cold and empty, you wander into the kitchen and the lights are off, Fred’s car is still parked in the driveway. You make coffee and check your phone and don’t see a message from him. You are sitting on the couch when you hear the door open and Freddie enters in his workout gear, sweat dripping down him.

“I thought I’d be back before you woke up” he explains. “I wanted to get a run in before everyone woke up” he explains bending down to kiss you.

“You need to shower babe” you joke pulling away from him. He leans forward wrapping his arms around you pinning you to the couch as he kisses you. “Babe you’re gross” you joke as you feel his sweaty arms tightly wrap around you. He picks you up “I think you need a shower too” he says.

“I believe I had one last night” you grin at him as you wrap your legs around him as he leads you to the room.

He pulls you tight to his chest “weird you have sweat on you now” he says smirking.

After your shower Fred gets dressed as you stay behind to blow dry your hair. You look at the clock it’s almost 8am now and Oliver is likely awake. You head to the living room and see him on Allie’s lap as she reads to him. Ollie see’s you and his face lights up “Oh, is mommy done having fun with daddy?” she quips as your cheeks go red.

“We were thinking heading to the beach for lunch” Fred says saving you from your friend’s embarrassment.

“Sounds like a great idea” you respond as your friends exchange glances on the couch.

You pack everything and dress Oliver in his bathing suit with a t-shirt and a bucket hat. You settle down on the blankets and set up the umbrella and chairs before pulling your dress over your head leaving you standing in your red bikini. It is a string bikini that hugs your curves and hangs low on your hips. The fabric covering your chest is tight, showing off your breasts.

“Jesus” Fred says lightly with a huge smile on his face. Your friends hear and look up.

“How do you look that good? You don’t look like you had a baby, ever” Carlee scoffs.

“I think dating an athlete helps” you respond.

Fred shakes his head “No, this is all you.” His eyes still haven’t left you.

“Well chasing this guy helps" you say kissing Oliver before rubbing sunscreen on him.

You sit on the beach making sandcastles and playing with Oliver throughout the day. Oliver is sitting in the sand, “I think he is bringing half the beach back with him” you joke resting your head on Fred’s shoulder. He looks over to see your friends have wandered to the bathroom, leaving you alone. He uses a finger to tilt your head up to his and he places a soft kiss on your lips you move to deepen it when you hear Oliver laughing to himself.

“I’m going to take him to the water, try and rinse some of the sand off before putting him in the car” Fred says kissing your forehead. You sit up, removing your head from his shoulder as he grabs Oliver and runs with him to the water.

When they get to the water Fred sets him down, and walks in with him. He is a little scared of the waves at first but quickly gets over his fear. Fred continues to play with him, splashing him, and pretending to fall over when Oliver tackles him in the water.

You sit on the beach watching the interaction unfold as Fred keeps playing with him in the shallow water. A huge smile is on Fred’s face, while Oliver’s laughter fills the air.

“Oh my god that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. How do you not want another kid with him?” Allie questions sitting down beside you.

“If you don’t want to I’ll do it” Carlee jokes.

Sitting there you can’t stop smiling, seeing Fred as a dad is the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced. And you do want more kids with him, just a bit more in the future. You snap a few pictures of them, capturing the large smiles on both their faces before posting them on Instagram with the caption My boys <3.

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #frederik andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen x reader #nhl smut #nhl fic #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

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buckstaposition · 5 years ago

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin." And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.' The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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Chapter 3

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Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 2 #like gloss tag

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