#she's gonna be here in eleven days though!! for a whole week!!!
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I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 10
pairings: lionesses x reader
summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.
part: ten
part one here
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
liked by alessiarusso99, leahwilliamsonn and 4000 others
yourusername: feeling unmotivated to do anything today 😔
niamhcharles: heyyy
ellatoone: hi
alessiarusso99: hey y/n <33
lottewubbenmoy: ❤️❤️
user1: anyone know who she is and why the whole team is suddenly here?
stanwaygeorgia: hellooo
leahwilliamsonn: hey ❤️
user2: what the hell is happening here?
chloekelly: i don't think i've ever spoken to you but i've been told to comment and say hi ↳ user3: help this comment 😭😭
danisterling: bestie .... why is the whole england team commenting on your post .... ↳ yourusername: well you see ....
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
It has been a day since you'd left the group chat and you had no idea what to do. You felt as though you might have overreacted a bit by leaving, but also at the same time the embarrassment of having talked about them without knowing it was them kinda balanced that and you'd freaked out.
But also, you understood their side. Like if you were a celebrity, you wouldn't really just straight up tell a random stranger you accidentally added to your chat who you were.
You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face in your pillow. Your phone was tossed somewhere on your bed and was continuously buzzing with notifications. You knew exactly why, and with a sigh, you grabbed your phone.
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM elton added the imposter aka y/n ♥︎
elton y/n pleaseee don't leave
willybum at least hear us out
the REAL karate kid y/n?
the imposter aka y/n ❤️
stairway
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ fine .... i'm listening
the REAL karate kid we're incredibly sorry for not telling you who we were we were planning to after the euros but we just didn't know how
willybum yeah we didn't want you to freak out
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ well i FREAKED OUT incredibly after figuring it out myself!!
elton i'm kinda proud of you for finally figuring it out ngl took ya long enough
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i hate you i'm leaving
elton
the imposter aka y/n ❤️
neev ......
stairway so um ... you're not mad at us anymore 🥺🙏
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i was never really mad at you guys tbh kinda hurt yeah but i completely understand why you never told me honestly i just completely freaked out and was embarrassed over the fact that i was an idiot to not figure it out sooner so in a mix of annoyance and embarrassment panic i kinda just left? sorryyyy
lotte nooo, don't be sorry your reaction was completely understandable we're the ones truly sorry once again
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ stop it you guysss it's all good
willybum it's not gonna be weird now that you know us yeah?
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nahhhh y'all are still my favourite stalkers <33
elton OML y/n we're not stalkers!!
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ shore shore whatever you say my fav stalkers :)
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
sorry for being unactive for the past whole week, been really busy, but i hope this short chapter makes up for it <33
more chaotic chapters are yet to come :)
part eleven here
#lionesses x reader#engwnt x reader#woso x reader#engwnt#leah williamson x reader#alessia russo x reader#ella toone x reader#niamh charles x reader#georgia stanway x reader#lotte wubben moy x reader#woso imagine#woso#woso fanfics
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goon | bucktommy | chapter two
check out the hockey glossary here (updated for chapter two) Prologue | Chapter One
Chapter Two
“That’s a very nice suit,” Josh says instead, phone between two fingers and tap-tap-tapping against his palm. “Also I need you and Buck to do an interview for me when we get into Utah.” Tommy and Eddie both shoot him looks, although Eddie’s is significantly less polite than Tommy’s. “Why.” He doesn’t really frame it as a question, but as they approach the stairs leading up to the plane Josh continues his backward walk, seemingly uncaring of the significant difference in their heights as he keeps pace. “Yeah, you haven’t won a face-off in a year and a half —” “I haven’t taken a face-off in a year and a half,” Tommy amends, but Russo either isn’t listening or doesn’t particularly care about the details.
When Tommy was eleven, three important things happened.
The first — the most important one, had been the birth of his younger sister. He’d spent the months leading up to it pressing his ear to his mothers growing belly, giddy with possibility, talking to her for hours and hours while his mom got pale and tired. He’d been eleven, though, and she’d done everything she could to hide that from him, always happy to wrap him up in her arms when he got home from school, always ready to throw on her game face when Tommy sat on the bed at her hip with one hand pressed to the bump as he told the baby all the cool things he’d learned at school that day, and the games they’d played during recess, and the thing Robert Duncan had said that had made Tommy laugh so hard his teacher had sent him off to the principals office for disruptive behavior.
The second had been the day his mom took him to the mall and bought him a pair of rollerblades — black leather with neon green wheels, even cooler than the ones Chris Harper had gotten for his birthday. He’d spent a month eating shit up and down the cul de sac until he was steady on his feet, and then the next six months spending every weekend with all the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, two nets set up at he end of Cherry Avenue, two streets down from Tommy’s house, borrowing Judy Green’s older brothers retired equipment, setting up pick up games and driving the whole neighborhood a bit mad as they all taught each other whatever arbitrary hockey rule they’d learned watching the latest Devil’s game before their parents sent them off to bed.
And then, at the peak of it all, the day after baby Abigail had been born, Tommy’s dad didn’t come home from the hospital with her or Tommy’s mom. In fact, he barely came home at all, other than to let him know his aunt would be by in a few hours to pick him up, and then he’d been gone again.
The third, as he’d found out six hours later, anxious and fretful in the passenger seat of Aunt Stacy’s station wagon, was his mom dying.
Eleven, and a week later he’d donned his first suit and tie, feeling sad and tired and worn and grown up, peeking over his aunts shoulder at the bundle of wrinkly baby in her arms. His dad had shown up to the funeral late, drunk, and angry, and Tommy — in his infinite wisdom, six days into a world without a mom — had tried to comfort him.
Eleven, and he’d gotten his first black eye to match his first black suit.
Tommy hasn’t worn a black suit since.
Diaz catches him halfway across the tarmac, fingers reaching out to pinch at the collar of Tommy’s burgundy plaid jacket. “Snazzy,” he says, tugging, wheeling his bag behind him and matching Tommy stride for stride, which Tommy finds a little strange until he remembers that Diaz has been keeping up with Buckley’s gazelle-legged pace for going on six years now. “And here we all thought you were gonna rock the henley-jeans combo until coach called you out in a team meeting.”
“I’m not a caveman,” Tommy rebuts, shaking his head to hide the grin. “But I do have to get all my suit jackets altered before I wear them. Not all of us have trim little waists and a forgiving shoulder line.”
Eddie pauses just long enough to twist his wrists and point two fingers at himself, grin a little wide. “Hey, if Buck tries to hand you one of his little cakes, just, like, take it and pretend you’ll try it,” he says, darting a glance behind him, no doubt looking to make sure the coast is clear. Tommy shoots him an amused look.
“What’s wrong with the cake?”
“He’s been trying to crack a gluten free dairy free cupcake. They’re... he hasn’t cracked it.”
Tommy bites his lip, rolls his tongue alongside the inside of his cheek, nearly runs into Josh Russo as he shoots his own look back to try to find Buckley’s mile-long legs amidst the group trailing along behind them towards the team jet.
When he reaches out to steady Russo, the man gives him the bitchiest fucking look Tommy’s ever seen, and completely ignores Diaz, walking backwards and turning his phone screen. “It’s fine, your profile in this lighting is gonna make people absolutely feral.”
It’s a good picture. Tommy doesn’t exactly have too many hang-ups about his appearance, but he used to, and this one is getting all his best angles. He holds up a fist for Josh to bump, and Josh stares at it for a moment like Tommy’s presenting him with roadkill.
He can’t decide whether or not Josh has clocked him, yet. There’s been a few instances where he’s tilted his head a certain way, or made an off-hand comment at the end of practice while he’s mining for content, that makes Tommy wonder if he’s seeing behind all the machismo to his soft underbelly and recognizing something of himself.
“You send me a single screenshot of someone on any social media getting thirsty and I’m shaving my head,” Tommy warns, just to watch Russo’s face flicker through all the stages of grief in about five seconds flat.
Tommy won’t ever admit this, but he’s never seen anyone crack social media interactions like a gay man in a toxic cesspool of a sport, and Josh Russo knows his shit. How often to post his stupid little thirst traps, what sort of questions to ask them when they’re sweaty and tired and ready for a fucking shower, which matchups the fans are most looking forward to, when to leak not-quite-secret shit to give fans a glimpse into the humanity of everyone’s favorite recalcitrant player.
“That’s a very nice suit,” Josh says instead, phone between two fingers and tap-tap-tapping against his palm. “Also I need you and Buck to do an interview for me when we get into Utah.”
Tommy and Eddie both shoot him looks, although Eddie’s is significantly less polite than Tommy’s. “Why.” He doesn’t really frame it as a question, but as they approach the stairs leading up to the plane Josh continues his backward walk, seemingly uncaring of the significant difference in their heights as he keeps pace.
“Yeah, you haven’t won a face-off in a year and a half —”
“I haven’t taken a face-off in a year and a half,” Tommy amends, but Russo either isn’t listening or doesn’t particularly care about the details.
“—and the first one you took as an Av resulted in a brilliantly stellar wrister from our star defenseman through, like, six men in front of the net —”
“Four bodies tops,” Tommy continues, even though at this point he’d be better just accepting that he’s going to be talked over.
“—and with the fight, too, the fans are abuzz, so I’m taking the initiative to lean into some new dynamics —”
“You’re pimping me out because I look good with blood on my knuckles.”
Russo pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it was more the absolutely manic smile on your face all the way to the box, that people were talking about. On that topic, how do you still have all your teeth?”
Tommy considers popping out his partials to show Josh exactly how many teeth he’s actually missing, but then Josh will make a face, and Diaz will feel the need to antagonize him, just a little bit, and Tommy would really like to settle in his seat and decompress. He ignores the question entirely. “Can we do it tomorrow morning?”
Russo tilts his head back and forth, considering. He eyes the cut Hen’d taped up after todays afternoon game like he’s trying to decide if he can makeup it away before he remembers that that’s sort of the draw to late season hockey players cropping up for dumb social media shit. “I’ll ask Buck,” he commits, and Tommy sneaks past him up the stairs before he can wheedle any more favors off of him.
Inside the cabin, the broadcast crew is already settled in to their seats, and he takes a few spare moments to say hello. It doesn’t do shit, really, except show respect, but he’s been around the block enough times that acknowledging the staff of any given organization has become habit.
By the time he finds a seat, the rest of the team has already boarded, and Tommy settles in next to Panikkar, who looks about ready to pass out. He’d done half an hour on the bikes after the game while Tommy iced the bruise he’d gotten courtesy the crosscheck he'd received from Eberle while they battled in the corner for the puck.
Tommy pulls out his phone to find a new message waiting for him.
Nash says you’re sticking around, the message from Sal reads, and Tommy opens up the thread to take a look at the last few messages from one of his oldest teammates.
It’s a short turnaround of a travel day, Sunday afternoon game just finished and a quick flight into Salt Lake where they’ll pass out at the hotel (Buckley and Russo willing, anyway) and then be up with enough time for an early morning practice, lunch and a nap before they head to the arena. Tommy is realizing he’s hemmed himself in to a 5 am wakeup at the latest, if Josh is actually serious about mining Tommy’s temporary fame for content.
In the seat next to him, Panikkar mumbles something, already fully asleep in the time it had taken Tommy to fasten his seatbelt and scroll up to Sal’s last few messages, and Ravi’s head is already drifting toward Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy rolls his eyes, but he still ends up shifting his weight to allow for easier landing, when the inevitable trajectory of Ravi’s slumping skull meets its destination.
A year ago, Sal had sent him a random screenshot of the infamous Seguin tweet and a link to an Oliver Peck music video, and then, three weeks ago when the news of the trade broke: See you in a few weeks
Tommy’d replied with a selfie of himself holding up a middle finger, but at the time he’d been pretty sure Sal was right. That was typically what happened — Tommy was used to being the weight that shifted midseason when contenders wanted to make a big move and didn’t have the cap space to do it. It was early — early enough that most trades were still a glimmer in the eye of most agents, the All-Star break still looming, the perfect time to make a move that didn’t mean much, in the scheme of things.
Only that hadn’t happened. The Avs were undoubtedly the team to beat in the conference this year, so he’d expected maybe a week or two up and down the lineup before they shifted him off to Loveland, only playing up if someone was injured. He was a shit defenseman but he knew enough to move from his typical forward position, and he was used to that steady grind, easy to slot in if they needed to reassess an early season injury in the ramp up to playoffs.
And he was hanging it up at the end of the year, anyway, and the foothills of Colorado were a hell of a lot nicer than —
Not the point.
Only.
That hadn’t happened. Instead he’d hopped the first flight out and found a car waiting for him at the airport to take him directly to the arena. It’d been an off day, two days in to a three day stretch of them, actually, so even the team rumored to have one of the most strenuous practice schedules in the league was off that day, when he’d been escorted through the building and straight up to the GM’s office.
Sorry, Tommy shoots off, as the plane starts to taxi. I know you were looking forward to checking out my tits in the locker room, Deluca.
Ravi’s head finally touches down against the meat of Tommy’s shoulder, and he snuffles sneepily before nosing in, a bit. Tommy wishes he’d thought to grab one of the shitty pillows from the overhead bin: Panikkar’s cheeks are sharp.
Just the left one, Sal shoots back. Keep an eye out for 27, he’s had it out for Diaz since ‘21.
Tommy is aware of this. Perhaps a little more incidentally than he knows some of the conflicts Buckley has gotten himself wrapped up in, but he’s done the research on all the little shits on this team who like to chirp and then get their asses handed to them.
He closes out of the thread in time to catch liftoff, and an up close and personal serenade of light snores from the man who has, in three weeks, gone from passive aggressively mentioning all the routines he has in place to work on his speed to being comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on his shoulder.
Two rows up, Cameron has his overhead light tilted over his latest trashy pulp fiction novel, and up another three, Greenway is sulking. He’s been on the outs for weeks, now, and Tommy doesn’t know the exact details, only that he’d thrown a quiet little fit over Tommy’s sustained minutes (all seven a game) and that Chim hates him.
Quietly, Tommy suspects that he’s the piece the front office is trying to move out before the trade deadline, but he hasn’t said a word of it yet. Better to keep his mouth shut and his head down until he’s got better feel for the dynamics. And Christ are there a lot of dynamics on this team.
In the row next to him, Diaz and Buckley have their heads bent over an iPad, one earbud each and their eyes flitting across the screen with an almost disturbing synchrony — two halves of a whole, those two. He likes them both, and not even just because they are a large part of the reason he’s getting enough ice time to justify keeping him on the bench.
Tommy’s caught staring when Buckley flicks his gaze up and over, and there’s a moment where Tommy holds his breath, just like always — twenty-year career and no teammate has ever questioned why he doesn’t have a girlfriend, a bleach blonde wife popping out kids, he’s not about to lose that streak now over an intriguing birthmark and a megawatt grin.
Buck smiles, tilts his head a little, returns to his screen. They have multiple iPads, but these two are practically attached at the hip, and he’s yet to see them reach for a second one when they could just tilt their heads together over game film and discover some weakness they can exploit that even Karen Wilson hasn’t discovered yet.
Tommy, like an idiot, doesn’t look away. He’s got a snoring Ravi nuzzling into his shoulder and he’s still nursing the bruise on his thigh, too wired to sleep and too tired to realize how long he’s been looking at the side of Buckley’s skull until Buckley is saying something softly, and Tommy watches Diaz knock their shoulders together. Too late, he realizes Eddie is shifting, turning his head — he catches Tommy’s gaze with a raised brow.
Tommy feels caught out, but Eddie just tips his chin at Ravi wheezing against his shoulder, grin going wide.
He makes an aborted half-shrug of a movement, reeling it back halfway through so as not to jostle Ravi, and misses the moment Buck turns his camera on the tableau.
Behind Tommy, Chim is in the middle of one of his batty post-game cooldown routines, and he can hear the faint sounds of whatever ballad he’s currently listening to — Celine Dion, maybe? The air is on, and Tommy’s skin feels tight, and the ambient noise is doing nothing to help the squeal of tinnitus he’d never fully lost after his last fight with Deslauriers. He chokes down the urge to reach over and snatch the phone right out of Buckley’s hand — cheeses it up instead, knowing Buck’s snapped probably twenty pictures already.
He can’t prove it, but he’s absolutely certain there are pain inhibitors in Evan Buckley’s smile. When he lowers his phone and grins bashfully, the bruise on Tommy’s thigh fees a little less achy, and the buzzing behind his ears fades enough that Tommy barely notices it.
When Buck turns away again, Tommy makes a concentrated effort to focus on the pattern of the seat in front of him.
He doesn’t grin at all when his phone lights up with four notifications in row: Buck’s curated glamour shots of Ravi drooling on Tommy’s shoulder.
---
"You're good at those," Buckley says, skidding to a halt next to him at the elevators, and Tommy tips his head side to side, twists his neck just enough to catch his profile in his peripherals.
"Twenty years in the league," he intones, trying hard not to smile at how fucking antsy this kid is, shifting foot to foot as they wait for the doors to slide open.
"No, yeah, I just mean --" Buck shifts his weight, tips his chin. "You've got, like, personality and shit, in those. I always feel like a robot trying to figure out genuine human emotions when Josh asks me to do that stuff. But it -- I mean it was nice, to just... You made it easy, is all I'm trying to say."
"You didn't seem remotely like a robot, to me," Tommy teases, watching the numbers above the elevator doors drop. He's a little startled when Buckley smacks at his shoulder, but by the time he's had the chance to do more than blink about it Buck's already moving on.
"It's like you weren't even listening to me, I just said you helped me not be."
"I mean, if you did, it was very subtley implied, actually, so you can't blame me for the misinterpretation."
At his side, Buckley glances up at the numbers, too. "Do you want to grab coffee? I feel like we should grab coffee."
"Aren't you vehemently against caffeine on game days?"
Buckley looks both pleased he'd remembered, and a little bashful, which Tommy can't parse for a minute. "Everyone has cheat days. Besides, it's just Utah."
"Famous last words," Tommy warns, but he's already turning back in the direction of the conference room they'd just left, towards the Starbucks he's pretty sure is on this level. He checks his watch - if they mosey, maybe the place will even be open by the time they get there.
Buckley falls into step beside him and without missing a beat continues the conversation. "Sounds like there's a story to that."
Tommy can see him working through the math in his head. Kid's like a Roledex for NHL facts and stats, so it doesn't take him long to divide by two and get to the conclusion that they'd been playing Philadelphia at the tail end of their worst season on record.
"First full season in the league my team went on a tear. I'm talking barnburners every other night, fifteen home game wins straight — real mensch shit. We were on top of the world. But... season’s winding down, you know, and we didn't start out great, so we're chasing every point we can just to scrape a spot in round one." Buckley's eyes are sparkling the exact same way they'd been, all through Josh's weird word association game he'd had them do for warmups before actually getting into his little question and answer session. "And me — I'm playing fifteen minutes a game against guys like Sid and Ovi, I'm one hundred percent sure this streak is never gonna end. So - two games left in the season, we're scheduled to play the Flyers."
"Coach pulls us in for a huddle before pregame warmups and he tells us to keep our heads down, shoot for the net, get back to basics, don't underestimate them. But half their team are call-ups, at that point, a good third have never played at this level before, right?"
Buck chuckles, clearly already reaching the conclusion, but Tommy forges on ahead anyway.
"So I just say it. Come right out and say the words: Coach, it's just Philly." He gestures wide, hands out in front of him, like he can conjure up the words that had been painted onto the inside of his eyelids for a good four months, after.
"So what happened?"
"We got shut out. Five nothing. By their third string goalie. Guy’d never even been on the bench as a backup before, and he stood on his damn head all game.”
Buck laughs. It’s a sweet sound, echoing off the walls of the corridor they're strolling through, and Tommy feels the edges of his grin going wide, digging crevices into his cheeks as he shakes his head at the memory. They’d scraped the two-seed that year, and gotten slaughtered in the second round, and Tommy had spent the entire summer hearing it’s just Philly parroted back to him by every single member of his team.
“Eddie doesn’t believe in curses,” Buck admits, once his laughter has died down. “He’s the least superstitious person I know.”
“Hope he doesn’t get voted into the All-Star game, then. Sid might read him the riot act.”
Buckley stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows both dancing up his forehead. It brings his birthmark into stark relief against the shitty lighting of the corridor. He shakes his head like he’s clearing a thought. “I forgot you played with him.”
Tommy has to remind himself that Buckley probably knows every team all of his teammates, current and former, have ever played for. “For a year and a half, back when the jock strap was still mostly white.”
Buck grins, again, blue eyes gleaming as he twists himself sideways, sort of grape-vining down the hall for a few moments, body facing Tommy’s. “What’s he like to play with?” he asks, and Tommy barrels on ahead, desperately reminding himself that Evan Buckley is exactly like every other long-legged, bright-eyed, shockingly sweet attractive man he’s ever played with.
Off-fucking-limits.
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Convexian Hitman AU
Part 1 I guess
AU by @tibbycaps/ @tibby-art
Written by @thecrazyhusky
(I mixed in dsmp, it’s more fun with those swearing idiots :D )
Mission: Find and destroy target’s weapon supply (target’s name is Tubbo and Jack Manifold)
Cub’s PoV
“I want you to destroy his weapons.” Doc looked at us, dead serious.
We (me and Scar) were in the NHO’s conference room, listening to Bdubs rant about this new case we had to deal with. Scar had already yawned at least two times and I had grabbed every single one of their cans of carbonated drinks or whatever at the table and shook them so hard they looked like ticking bombs. Etho was also eyeing us with much suspicion, and I suspected he was up to something.
“All of them?” I asked.
“All of them.” The goat-creeper confirmed. “He was some sort of former president of a country. He’s got some ass-load of explosives. Specifically, bombs. Lots of those.”
“Ah.” Scar smiled. “Big boom.”
“Really?” I looked at him.
“And here are the conditions, since you three are definitely gonna loophole out of this.” Doc growled.
“You have to get this done by this week, which is three days. No eating anyone, and I mean anyone. You find those explosives, disable them, then leave. Nothing else. I don’t want those Snowchester people come fighting with nukes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They got nukes?”
Scar sniggered. I kicked him.
Doc glared at my fellow Vex. “And bring Grian. He’ll be of use.”
“Grian? You sure?” I asked.
“Yes.” Doc grunted. “And you better get the job done. Go. Now.” He said.
I nodded, grabbed Scar’s wrist and dragged him out of the conference room, heading down to Grian’s “office”, while hearing Bdubs and Beef screech loudly along to the sounds of soda exploding. I allowed myself a slight smile.
“Dang it. Should’ve rigged ‘em better.” I said.
Scar gave me a look. “Don’t tell me you shook all of them.”
“I did. But I could’ve just fitted them with grenades instead.” I replied, taking a left turn down the hallway.
We found her studying a file about Tubbo.
“Hey.” She greeted us, not looking up.
“Hiya. You ready?” I asked.
Since Grian has her Watcher powers, she could technically see us coming, so I assumed she was already prepared.
“Let’s just go. Tango yelled at me earlier. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” She stood up, then walked towards us.
“Tango? Why?” Scar asked.
“None of your concern.” She shrugged.
We headed out the door, taking the lift down, then exiting the building. As soon as we stepped out, Grian winced.
“You okay?” I asked her.
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “It’s just…overwhelming.”
“Hmm.” I shot a glance at Scar. “Scar, you got the map? Coords, at least?”
“Ask the all-seeing.” He pointed at Grian. Grian made a low growling sound.
“Wow, I though you prepped.” She muttered under her breath.
“Yes, I have the map. It’s in my head.” She raised her voice.
“Great!” Scar smiled. “Let’s go, then.”
I leaned closer to Grian. “You okay, dude?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s…” she exhaled. “Alright.”
“Good.” I said, then secretly kicked Scar. The man glared at me but I didn’t reply.
“Let’s go.”
***
“We gonna take a subway. Then a cross-country train. Then another high-speed railroad.” I said, laying down a drawn map.
“Snowchester’s all the way out there, so we probably need to either stop to eat on the way, or we have to bring food.” I rolled up the map and shoved it in my pack.
Scar rolled his eyes. “You’re concerned about eating?”
“Grian needs to eat as well.” I hissed.
I had shoved the three of us into a Seven Eleven’s, where my reason was, “we need substance.”
Grian nudged Scar. “Here’s the thing, bud. We don’t have money. How-“
I waved a five dollar bill I snatched from someone. “Steal.”
“Did you get his whole wallet?” Scar asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.
I gave a low chuckle. “Duh I did.” I held out the stolen wallet. Scar sniggered. “This guy’s got a hundred and fifty.”
Grian gave us a look of annoyance and frustration. “You know it’s illegal to steal, right?”
Scar materialised behind her, making her jump. “Nah. It’s fine.”
Grian narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t snap back a comment.
I handed Scar about thirty dollars worth of bills. “Grian, you can go with Scar to buy food.” She shot me a dirty look, got up and disappeared behind the aisles with the Vex.
I took out twenty and nabbed a sandwich and two bottles of water, in which to avoid getting yelled at by Grian, I payed for it instead of stealing it.
Though I will admit I stole a can of Sprite.
Yeah. Maybe.
Grian bought coffee and milk tea (where did she find that?) and Scar bought a bun and bottled Cola, though I could tell he didn’t intend to drink it, he’s just gonna prank me with it.
As we left that store, I searched for enough money to get us to the subway station. Six dollars to get in, then they needed eighteen. I decided not to give them the coins and bills yet, as Scar had a tendency to lose things.
Very, very often.
We headed to the subway station, while Grian kept cautiously looking around for signs of danger. However, despite this, Scar seemed extremely carefree.
“G, man, there’s nothing to worry ‘bout. It’s not like someone would just suddenly drop down and try and kill us, right?” He said to no one in particular.
“Don’t jinx it.” She huffed. “I see something. Though I can’t pinpoint where it is.”
I approached the subway tunnel, with the two nitwits trailing behind. “Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. I can feel it.”
I stepped down the stair, then halted when something whizzed past me and embedded itself into the wall with a thunk.
“Honestly, Foolish, how bad can your aim be!” I heard a yell. The three of us swivelled our heads towards the noise, and standing on the side of the street, armed with crossbows, were two deranged-looking people. At least that’s what the first word that came to my head when I saw them.
The one who shot the projectile, Foolish, looked suspiciously like a totem of undying, and it made me question whenever he’s an actual totem or not. His friend was a girl who wore dark sunglasses and had long streaks of hair running down both sides of her head. What she wore screamed pirate in every way.
Grian sighed. “Scar, you jinxed it.”
Scar glared at her. “No I didn’t!”
I slapped Scar before he could argue any further and hissed, “don’t make the situation worse, dumbass!” and marched towards the pair with crossbows. Scar gave me an offended look but I knew he was playing around for fun.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
Foolish looked at me. “You don’t have the authority to order me around.” He said.
“You just tried to kill me. Are you hitmen?” I snapped.
His friend glared at me. “You were trying to destroy our military.”
Grian and Scar came up from behind. “What do you know about that?” Grian challenged.
“I know for a fact that you were sent to destroy our nukes. We’re from Snowchester, mind you.” The girl growled.
Grian suddenly looked like he was lost in thought. Scar stared at her, then shook her to try snap her out of her trance, but did nothing except from earning a well-deserved smack in the face by her.
“Well, we don’t really care about who sent you. This is about our country’s safety. You back off, or we’ll make you.” Sunglasses Girl said, raising her crossbow.
I processed her words, then turned to Scar. “Wait, if we die, is our contract technically broken?”
He paused. “Wait…you know what? You’re right! We can just let ‘em kill us!”
“But do we like, reincarnate or something? What do you think we’d be-“
Sunglasses Girl facepalmed. “No-that’s not what I meant! I don’t want anyone dead!”
Foolish nudged her. “Whatever, Puffy. They’re not part of our nation.”
Grian shook her head. “You have your own problems. Deal with whoever the fuck Dream is first, then come back and kill us. Besides, Tubbo is a literal threat to society.” She said. “You shouldn’t be listening to that menace.”
Puffy, aka Sunglasses Girl, looked promptly taken aback by Grian’s comment. “How do you know about Dream?”
“Can we take this conversation somewhere else? We’re attracting quite a lot of unwanted attention.” Grian interrupted. “One dude who passed by thought you were a terrorist.”
Foolish and Puffy took a while to discuss, and as soon as they took their eyes off the us and Grian, I took out the stolen can of Sprite, shook it hard, opened it (but barely) then yeeted it at Foolish. It landed on the ground and the entire can burst like a grenade, spewing soda everywhere.
We bolted for it, making a beeline for the subway station, with Scar mainly being dragged all the way. By the time the pair from Snowchester realised what’s happening, we were already down the subway and had managed to get into the train already.
“Ok, that was…awkward.” Grian panted, slightly out of breath.
I grunted. “Whatever. You shouldn’t have told them about your powers.”
She shook her head. “I…sorry.” She muttered.
“Eh. We could go back and kill them both.” I shrugged.
Scar nodded. “Actually, yeah. I would love to do that.”
Grian paled. “No you don’t!” She cried. “Why must you always kill people left and right?”
Both of us Vexes turned their piercing gaze at her. She immediately shut up and sank into the seat.
“Can I kill Tubbo?” Scar asked.
“No,” Grian and I said almost simultaneously. I gave her a look but she said nothing.
“Aww.” He huffed. “I’m bored.”
“You won’t be when we reach the border.” Grian said.
“What?” I asked. “Are you talking about…the border between the city and Greater Dream SMP or whatever that place is called?”
She nodded. “You know we don’t have our IDs or passports. It’s gonna be a wild chase with the border guards there.”
“Ooo, what do they do?” Scat asked.
Grian groaned. “They would chase you down on horses and they never stop. Literally, they could hunt you continuously for days without stopping.”
“Sounds fun,” Scar said.
Grian bit her lip to prevent herself from snapping back at him.
I looked at her. “Listen, if you know about the border guards, do you think we can get past them?”
She nodded. “You can get past them, but it’s gonna be hard.”
I gave both of them a wide smile. “Alright. We have two hitmen on our trail, we don’t have IDs of any sort and we’re about to be chased down by a few border guards. What’s the worse that could happen?”
To be continued
(I did it on another platform and then tried to paste it on Tumblr but ended up with so much lag I can’t even type properly lol)
#this is like fanfic of a fanfic of a certain fanbase#convexian hitman au#convex#grian#cubfan135#goodtimeswithscar
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So my favorite character in The Brothers Sun is Taiwan. Like yeah Taiwan has its own shows and movies but it just feels Different to see Taiwan in a big international/American show! It’s SO cool actually and so um here are some thoughts I had and things I Noticed about different Taiwan scenes and things in the show idk
Episode 1
the opening shot of Taipei tells us this is a Thursday- the top of 101 is green and is a different color every day of the week
that corkscrew-shaped apartment building we see Charles living in is kind of an urban legend here in Taipei. They say it’s the most expensive place to live in the city, that each apartment has its own swimming pool, and that there’s an elevator specifically to bring cars up to display in your living room. No idea if the interiors look like that for real though
I was gonna say it’s pretty crazy he has an American-style oven in Taipei bc nobody does but actually in that apartment… yeah he probably would
afaik there’s not a way to (“legally”/officially) stream any of those famous British baking shows here rip
I do wonder if they actually filmed the opening scene in the corkscrew building or if they just really pay attention to detail because the skyline seen out the window matches up to what it would really look like from that part of the city
the shoes, I mean we all know about shoes-off houses but yeah
豆漿. Soy milk. Yeah
They definitely eat Hi-chews in one of these scenes
Episode 2
It makes way more sense for the guys to have snuck out for shaved ice as kids than youtiao… I’m just saying… like would *I* do that yes but it’s usually just like. A thing you eat with soup or breakfast
Episode 3
“Are you sure you can handle-“ “the heat? I’m from Taiwan.” lmfao BITCH Taiwan has some of the blandest cuisine I’ve ever tasted (he does think it’s too spicy tho lol)
“Keelung. A fishing village just north of Taipei.” Okay like I can see how the older generation would call it that but it’s actually a whole ass city…
Episode 5
Not a Taiwan thing but the Maotai made me laugh. It’s like the Coca Cola of Chinese baijiu and imho it’s just as awful as every other brand
Episode 6
ok the episode that made me want to make this list
the Costco shit IS funny because vitamins, baby formula, that’s all the good stuff you want to bring back from abroad BUT actually we have Costco in Taiwan and can easily get a lot of that stuff? This concept imo would fit a lot better for China than Taiwan. It’s still very much a thing to load your suitcase up with baby formula on the way home to China, and there’s actually a huge smuggling business bringing it in through Hong Kong but I digress
Idk why I’m happy to hear Changhua and Douliu mentioned in an American TV show… Seriously, I don’t know. They’re kind of like nowhere places I’ve never even been. I just feel like everyone’s grandparents live there.
Even the way they film Mama Sun on the plane. Like the Mandarin music in the background with the announcement for Taoyuan airport… to me it feels specifically like a transpacific flight to Taiwan lolol but that’s definitely like a bias probably
Okay not to be SO nitpicky but so when she looks out the window on the plane to see Taipei 101 etc I’m not sure about that? The airport is actually in another city and I feel like I usually come in around and over the ocean or something?
But WOW the taxi scene my favorite scene it’s SO visceral and SO Taiwan… the street, the lights, the Cosmed/Mos Burger/7-Eleven, the street noises, like I can FEEL Taiwan through the screen and HER FACE taking it all in I WANT TO SOB
The temple, beautiful like this episode makes me believe Michelle Yeoh is Taiwanese lol
I appreciate the viscerality of the night market shots too but it seemed a bit empty
Okay so Mama Sun’s mom is super rich too based on where she lives which I guess it makes sense. But what I am curious about is the story about why they’re speaking Cantonese because Taiwan has a lot of languages but that’s not one of them like officially at all. I wonder if there’s a character backstory there or they just like. Didn’t want to bother teaching Michelle how to speak Minnan or something
The cemetery too is so fancy, I mean it fits but wow that’s expensive real estate
In the hospital scene, Taipei 101 is lit blue out the window, making it a Friday. Has everything in the show so far happened in only 8 days?
Episode 7
“Last night the Boxers made their move” 101 says it’s Tuesday for anyone keeping track
I LOST it at the Foodpanda driver assassin the first time I saw this… So Taiwan
Big fancy church in Taipei? I know they exist but I’ve never seen one in person (like 2%? of the country is Christian)
A mom bringing back tea as a souvenir from Taiwan? 100% real
Episode 8
RAW is a real restaurant in Taipei. It’s very fancy and very expensive and had I think two Michelin stars. I don’t know ANYONE who’s actually been there lol
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Part One
Read on AO3
They want to throw him a party whenever he gets released from the hospital.
“You know,” Dustin says with a shrug, “before the world goes tits up, or whatever.”
“Dude!” Steve smacks him across the back of the head, knocking off his hat.
Dustin gapes at him. “What?”
“You can’t just say stuff like that!” His eyes flash over to Wayne, who knows the whole story because Eddie’s been on the good drugs and tells his uncle fucking everything, especially when he’s high. He’s got a raised brow and a half-smile, which is basically a laugh.
Dustin smacks his hat on his knee before putting it back on. “What, I can’t say ‘tits up?’ We’re all adults here.”
“You’re fourteen.”
“Excuse you, I’ll be fifteen in three weeks, you know this.”
“Still not an adult.”
“Oh, bite me.”
“Ladies, please.” Eddie holds up a still-shaking hand to get them to shut up for a second. “You’re both pretty. And as much as I would love any chance to let loose and live young… I’m not too sure now’s the best time for it.”
His hospital room has a window that Wayne keeps the blinds drawn for, no matter what time it is, but Eddie knows what’s on the other side all the same. He sees it in his nightmares plenty. A red, cloudy sky that crackles with lightning, the chokes the light out of the daytime and turns nighttime into one of the seven rings of hell.
Eleven says that Vecna is getting stronger. That it’ll be a while before he’s back up to full fighting strength, but that she thinks he’ll be more powerful than ever when he is. And Will’s been having visions of what he thinks are glimpses into the Upside Down, into the stuff that hasn’t already leaked into Hawkins. Will says they’ve been both unhelpful and just generally bad.
Not to mention that Max is still asleep, and that’s a whole other can of worms that everyone is trying to be optimistic about, but Eddie can see their hope draining by the day.
“That’s exactly why we need something to celebrate,” Dustin says. “Everything sucks right now, and it’s probably gonna keep sucking for a while—”
“Like a while,” Steve chimes in.
“—so we should take every chance we get to, as you said, let loose and live young. For morale.”
Which is great, and a part of Eddie agrees, but that’s the part from before. Where something like facing off against an alternate-dimension-evil-bad-guy was from out of a board game. Before this was real, where it’s outside and under his skin and those bats stole like, half of his tattoos and his nipple.
He nearly died, and all of them still could.
“I’m just not sure it’s the best time,” Eddie says.
Dustin rolls his eyes. “Okay, well when exactly—”
It’s Steve’s hand on his shoulder than cuts him off and a shake of his head that has Dustin slumping back in his seat. Eddie hates to see the kid put down like this, hates that he was the one to do it, but when he tries to say something to apologize, anything, the words get stuck.
Then it’s Wayne’s hand on Eddie’s arm and his uncle’s eyes are familiar and gentle. For someone who everyone thinks is such a gruff guy, Eddie’s always though it was obvious how much of a wuss Wayne is. Or, maybe wuss isn’t the best word. What do you call someone who’s lived through what he has and come out kinder for it?
Wayne gives him a squeeze and says, “Dustin, I need some fresh air but my knee’s been acting up with all this…not-rain. I hate to ask, but do you think—”
The kid practically jumps to his feet. “Oh, sure, Mr. Munson, I’d be happy to help out! Y’know, my granny says that I have an intuitive touch for the older generations.”
“Well, I think that’s just what I need. What else does your granny say about you?”
“Oh man, where do I even start? There was this one time, in first grade—”
Then they’re both out the door, shutting it behind them, and Eddie lets his head fall back with a sigh. “Jesus Christ, that kid.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, moving to sit in Wayne’s now-empty chair. “My mom would say that he grows on you like a fungus, but he’s just trying to help.”
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie can’t look at him, so he looks at the ceiling instead, at those corkboard-y panels that seem to always have stains on them. Anywhere else you go, those stains would usually just be water from leaky pipes or rain, but here they’re all sorts of different things. Water, blood, vomit, medicine. Whatever’s managed to get high enough.
(There’s a weed joke in there somewhere, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t have the will to make it. How sad is that)?
“It’s weird, though,” Steve says, and Eddie feels him lean forward. Feels the heat of him on his arm, crawling up his neck. “Eddie Munson, dodging the spotlight. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“Well, here it is.” It comes out a little bitter. “Thought it was time for a change of pace.”
“I don’t know. I kind of liked the old pace.”
When Eddie looks over, Steve’s already looking back. He’s smiling, just a small one, like he’s teasing him. Because he does that now. Teases Eddie like they’re real friends, makes him feel like he’s going insane, like maybe he actually did die back in the Upside Down and everything that’s happened after has just been some crazy, fucked up version of the afterlife.
Except, Steve saved him. He doesn’t remember who told him, but someone must have, because the first day Eddie woke up (or really, the first day he remembers) that had been his first full thought.
Harrington gave me the goddamn kiss of life.
Followed immediately by:
He’s gonna lord this over me forever.
But Steve hasn’t even mentioned it. Eddie has some vague sort-of memory of one of them saying it probably tasted gross, but beyond that it just hasn’t come up, and it’s leaving him feeling kind of off balance. Like he’s forgotten the chords to his favorite song. His fingers are hovering over the strings, ready to play, but he doesn’t know what kind of sound is going to come out.
It was easy when they were both in school. Jock Harrington and Freak Munson, two opposite ends of the spectrum, never to collide past some classic teenage bullying and the occasional drug deal.
Now, they’re Steve and Eddie. Harrington and Munson, the savior and the saved. Two maybe-friends who apparently swapped spit, but in a totally I-had-to-do-it kind of way and the worst part is that Eddie doesn’t remember a single second of it.
He wonders, if he were to start flatlining, if Steve would do it again.
(But of course he wouldn’t. There are doctors and nurses around for that now, because that’s the only reason he did it in the first place, right? He was the only one who could, and Eddie’s grateful, but maybe also a little bit…ashamed? Stupid, for sure. He knows that it was last resort only, that he wouldn’t even think about doing it again unless he really had to, but here Eddie is, praying he might anyway).
“You just want an excuse to get drunk,” Eddie tells him, because he has to say something. Steve is looking at him like that, and he has to say something.
But then Steve’s smile goes a little wider, almost cocky, and he says, “Munson, I don’t need an excuse to get drunk, thank you very much.” Then, quieter, “Although, I’ve gotta admit, it’d be nice to get drunk because someone’s alive for a change.”
Eddie shouldn’t get it, but he does. He realizes it like a slap to the face, a big ohhhhhh. Steve Harrington, of the big house and the new money and the nice car, gets drunk for the same reason Eddie Munson gets high: to forget. The people they’ve let down, the ones who’ve left, to the ones who keep leaving. To the fact that maybe it’s never gonna get better and their entire lives are gonna be a big ol’ circle of finding and losing and regretting.
Finding people, losing them, regretting all the rest.
Steve is sitting next to him, staring at Eddie like he’s someone else, someone better, and Eddie thinks that he wants to break the cycle.
So, he groans and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Damn it, alright. We can have your little party.”
“Not my party.” Steve’s close to beaming, smug.
“Dustin’s party then.” Eddie bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh at how stupid this is. “He’s got big shoes to fill, though, I want a party that’s gonna put all of King Steve’s ragers to shame. I never got to actually have fun at one, y’know. Always too busy handing out the party favors.”
Steve snorts. “I’ll make sure it’s nothing but the best for you. Want me to roll out the red carpet, too?”
“Like it’s the goddamn Oscars.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
And then he winks, and Eddie realizes just how close they are. Steve’s leaning on the bed, their arms brushing, their faces close enough that Eddie could count every single one of Steve’s moles, pick out every individual shade of brown in his eyes and the smell of his body wash. The way his lips are parted and curved and Eddie has never wished more desperately that he remembered what they felt like. The taste of him, the amount of pressure and give, if he would bite and lick better.
It's a dangerous fantasy.
But Steve is looking at him like it’s real.
Before he can say anything, do anything, Steve leans back and says, “Once you’re out, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
And Eddie, hopelessly fucked, can only say, “Can’t wait.”
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I want to see the 118s perspective of the drunken confessions from black out so bad 😭
HELLO ANON I LOVE YOU FOR THIS. SO MUCH LOVE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. This has been sitting here in my inbox for a while because I wanted to do it justice, but I had SO MUCH FUN working on this! I present: Chimney's POV of that whole situation from my fic Blackout (3k, E) I may have gotten caught up in my Madney/Dad!Chimney feels for a while there, but who can blame me?
Chimney has always loved having Halloween off work, glad to avoid the crazies, but it's even better now he's a dad, especially now Jee's old enough to have fun with her costumes, and to understand what Trick-or-treating is all about.
He gets to dress up with her, a whole-family pirate ensemble, to pose while Buck snaps way more pictures than necessary of the three of them, and to take her door-to-door around the neighborhood.
And, after getting Jee-Yun in bed, he heads to Hen's for the grown-up party.
Buck takes a detour on the way, to pick up Eddie and see Christopher before his first teenage Halloween party. Those are days Chimney isn't looking forward to—when Jee is old enough to prefer spending time with her friends than her parents, when she won't climb on his back and pose for a dozen pictures as they wear matching costumes.
He hopes she never grows out of this.
When Eddie and Buck arrive at the bar together, they're walking in step with each other, Eddie mid-laugh at something Buck has said. Eddie heads straight for the bar, while Buck stands for a moment, watching him before making his way to the booth where Chimney is sitting with Hen, Bobby and Ravi.
Everyone's in a good mood today, it seems, as they order rounds of drinks: beer and whiskey and cocktails. Hen is pacing herself more, but Chimney is pleasantly buzzed, verging on drunk. He's nothing compared to Buck and Eddie, though. They're both pink-cheeked and laughing, pressed together in the booth, practically in each other’s laps.
Bobby makes his excuses just after eleven, telling them all to have a good night, and to stay safe.
“Aww, c’mon Cap! Stay a while longer!” Buck protests, leaning over Eddie to reach for Bobby. Chimney catches the way Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he looks anywhere but at the denim-clad Buck in his lap.
Bobby shoots a look at Hen, raising his eyebrow. She nods.
So, great, Chim isn’t the only one seeing this.
“Sorry, Buck. Athena’s waiting up for me. I’ll see you at work, okay?”
Buck pouts and reaches for the dregs of his last drink, barely shifting out of Eddie’s lap.
“Twenty bucks says it happens tonight,” Chim whispers, sliding back into the booth next to Hen.
“Those idiots? They’ve been like this for weeks now!” Ravi argues. “I’ll take those odds.”
Hen shakes her head. “They’ve been like this for years. Stop wasting your—” but Hen cuts herself off as Eddie takes out his phone, checks a message and shows it to Buck, whose expression turns ridiculously soft as he drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.
“Huh,” Hen says, narrowing her eyes at them. “Honestly, you might have a point, Chim. This isn’t their usual dance. Here’s how it’s gonna go—”
Chim orders a round of shots while Hen draws up the bet in her notes app.
“This is the last drink we buy for them,” Hen insists. “Otherwise, it gets weird, morally speaking.”
“Agreed,” Chim and Ravi both chime in, and they all shake on it, then down their shots. Buck and Eddie don’t even break eye contact as they drink the shots, but a moment later Eddie is scrambling out of the booth, pulling Buck with him.
“I love this song!” he yells.
And Buck follows him, eyes wide in a way that Chimney wishes wasn’t the exact same expression Maddie gets sometimes, right before they fall into bed together.
He’s going to have to drink a lot to forget that sight, but at least he’s definitely gonna win that bet.
He loses them for a while, getting another drink, showing Ravi the trick-or-treating photos again: “Look at this one!” he coos, showing yet another picture of Jee. “She was looking for the treasure!”
He only snaps back to the moment when Hen smacks him on the arm, and he looks up, following her eyes to where Buck and Eddie are dancing. The song’s different, but they’re closer than before—Eddie’s hand is on Buck’s chest, Buck’s on Eddie’s waist, and that is probably the most intense eye contact Chimney’s ever seen—and he’s seen Ravi and Lucy attempt to communicate telepathically during a long shift with very few calls.
“It’s happening,” he whispers. “Hen, come dance with me!”
He takes her arm, and pulls her within earshot of Buck and Eddie—trying and failing to be subtle, but it doesn’t make any difference for all the attention they’re paying to anything but each other.
“—really pretty,” Buck says, expression dazed.
Eddie blinks at him. “Pretty?” he asks. Buck nods, touching the corner of Eddie’s eye, letting his hand rest there.
Eddie swallows, and Chim squeezes Hen’s arm as Eddie leans in, then muffles a curse as he pauses. He glances over and sees Ravi preening at the edge of the dance floor, but then Buck is pulling Eddie in, and yes, yes there it is!
“They’re kissing!” Chim cheers as quietly as he can, practically jumping for joy while Hen tries to get him to stop. Chim shakes her off, then holds his hand up in the shape of an L, directing it at Ravi, who rolls his eyes.
“I love you,” Chim hears Eddie say, and he whips his head back around to them.
“You—Eddie. Really?”
“Of course I do, Buck. God, of course I do.”
Buck pulls Eddie close, burying his face in his neck. The smile on his face is familiar to Chimney: it’s the same one he knows he wears each and every time he looks at Maddie.
“I love you too,” Buck says. “So much. I…you know, you and Christopher, I think I’d be happy if I did nothing but sit in your house and make pancakes for you both for the rest of forever.”
“Buck, oh my god,” Eddie chuckles, while Chimney pretends to gag at the sincerity. “You know, having nothing but pancakes would probably not be healthy,” Eddie points out, but Chimney can hear the fondness, the love in his voice.
“Don’t care. Not if it makes you happy.”
“You make me happy.”
“Good. C’mere,” Buck says, and it’s all the warning they give before Eddie goes in for another kiss, and this is not the type of kiss Chim wants to see his future brother-in-law, the uncle to his beautiful daughter, engage in, but there’s really no avoiding how much he just goes for it.
“Fuck.”
Chimney hears Eddie’s low growl before he’s, thankfully, pulled away by Hen, back to where Ravi is waiting, trying to maintain a scowl over the smile that’s clearly fighting to break free on his face.
“Alright, well, pay up!” Chimney announces, resolutely not looking up to where Buck and Eddie are practically mauling each other on the dance floor—more than five years of sexual tension all trying to resolve itself at once.
He holds out his hand while Ravi grumbles. “Who even carries cash anymore? Can I just venmo you?”
Chimney rolls his eyes. “Sure, fine, whatever. But you will be held accountable for this, got it?”
There’s a crash to his right, and he turns to see Buck, grinning, out of breath and red in the face. “We’re uh, we’re gonna head out.”
Eddie pops up behind him, mouth latching on to the side of Buck’s neck from behind, eyes hazy in a way that Chim tells himself is just from the alcohol but he knows is probably something beyond that.
“Get home safe, boys!” Hen tells them. They back off, making their way to the door before Chimney calls after them.
“And be safe in the other way, too!” he yells, earning him a chiding slap on the arm from Hen. He grins. “I think our loser ought to buy the next round of drinks, don’t you, Hen?”
He sticks his tongue out at Ravi, who rolls his eyes, grumbles, but still gets up to order another round.
Chimney doesn’t stay too much longer after that. He orders an uber for himself, and Hen and Ravi both follow him out. He’s the first one dropped off, and he stands on the curb outside his house for a moment, smiling at the little garden, the front door with the lopsided pumpkin he’d carded with Jee, the little bats and spider decorations they’d hung together.
There’s a light on in their bedroom, which means Maddie’s still awake—probably reading or watching a show in bed. Chimney does a little skip on his way up the porch steps.
He has so much to tell her.
#my fic#911 fic#buddie fic#chimney han#evan buckley#eddie diaz#i might post this on ao3 as a follow up at some point but idk?#i guess technically it's more prequel than follow up
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Rose's Kiss Week Day 1: Escape
OCs: Marcus Asalun (aka Anchesh Pabat) and Yera Miants
Words: 887
Content warnings: none
Notes: this takes place shortly before best friends Anchesh and Yera begin their courtship, so Anchesh is still single and they're both in their early twenties. Also they're both bovans (think catgirl but part cow instead).
At four minutes past eleven the penultimate dance ended, and Anchesh kissed the back of his partner’s gloved hand and made equally perfunctory excuses to the crowd that formed around him—he just needed to retire to his rooms briefly, a phrase that people always assumed meant he had to piss. They held back as he entered the hallway, and until he was finally behind the closed door of his quarters, he kept himself stately. In private, though, he went straight to the window and swung himself out onto the pebbled garden bed underneath it. Holding his robes close, he followed the familiar unmarked path through the trees, down into the garden where the paths were lined with tiny lamps along the ground. Yera was waiting for him in the usual spot, the airy layers of her dress ethereal in the mix of moonlight and path light. He touched her bare shoulder and she turned, copying his smile as she suddenly grabbed his hand and ran with him, giggling, down to the bench behind the arbor. They sat down in a rush, his heart beating harder from that run than a whole night of dancing. He grinned at her, and she grinned back, and he tried to gather his wits around catching his breath, but instead of saying a word she just leaned in and kissed him. His lower lip folded slightly between hers, and then she was back in her seat, even as her touch seemed to linger on his lips.
Her smile had taken on an air of chagrin, the silvery sheen on her cheeks almost a blush. “Sorry, I just—”
“Are an incredible kisser?” he said.
She made a noise that was half surprise, half laugh. “Yeah, but I got carried away. I know we’re not having a real courtship.”
“Why not?” Yera gave him the head tilt, her ears not quite relaxed. “No, I’m serious. I want you to be my right hand schemer.” When she just sort of laughed it off as their inside joke, he added, “And if you know we’re friends, and I know we’re friends, I don’t see why you can’t kiss me if you want.”
“You made up your mind over one kiss?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I didn’t think you wanted to kiss me.”
“Well, you’re not my guy. But I’m still going to be your wife.” She put her upper arm along the top of the bench and leaned her cheek against her gloved knuckles. “And I love you, Anchesh. I do.”
“I know you do,” he said. “I love you too.”
He lifted her hand from her lap, kissing the back of it and setting it lightly on his shoulder. As his hand followed her sash back along her waist, she leaned in too and caught him in another kiss. His other hand caressed the curve of her neck, her skin warm against his gloved fingers. No one would catch them this far down in the garden, but if anyone did, it would just look like they had started their courtship early, like the lovebirds everyone thought they were.
“You’re not such a bad kisser yourself,” Yera said as she gently pulled back, her ears now low and soft. “You might want to head back, though, before everyone wonders what happened to you.”
“I know. I’m gonna get a reputation for being the slowest pisser on Iecunem.”
She laughed. “They know you’re up to something. They just don’t know what.”
He gently extracted himself from her arms and stood up, offering her a hand.
“No, I think I’ll stay here for a while longer. Daydream wistfully about that time I kissed the prince.”
With a smile still on his face, he started up the hill behind the bench.
“Anchesh,” Yera called back in a low voice. He turned. “You need help getting back in the window?”
He shook his head. “I have a plan this time.”
“You had a plan last time,” she said, but she didn’t leave the bench. He didn’t stay to argue the point, but the plan he’d had last time was a spur of the moment calculation that left him weaving his way through the service corridors at top speed instead. This time he had an actual real plan, set up ahead of time. To be able to push himself up onto the windowsill and get back in, all he needed was about four inches’ boost. He’d procured and hidden a slice of log that would do the trick, and not look too out of place if anyone happened to see it before he came out to hide it again. He dropped it on the bed of smooth white pebbles under the windowsill and immediately sunk further into them when he stepped on the wood. Still, he was higher—he jumped with his hands on the windowsill and managed to push himself up to half climb, half tumble back into his room. With a quick spin in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look like he was coming in from the gardens, he swept out into the corridor to return to the ballroom.
It was only once he found himself looking out at the ballroom crowd that he realized he should have actually taken his opportunity to piss.
RKW taglist: @vacantgodling @jezifster @kk7-rbs
#I don't know if it's realistic to be able to tell if someone is a great kisser from one kiss. but for this scene idc#c: Marcus#c: Yera#wip: iecunem#rose's kiss week#rose writ
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Rachel Daly x Reader
Part Eleven - Job Centre/I Didn’t Say That
AN: I have two alternatives to this part and can’t choose which one I prefer, I love the smushy one but can’t bring myself to delete the first, I will rewrite this one day.
“Now tell me about you, not Rachel the footballer, Rachel the person… I want to know everything” you asked as you laid on your side propping your head up with your arm. Rachel spoke about growing up, school, college in America, her family, silly things like her favourite number and colour and old best friends, coming out, exes and why they didn’t work out, her home town.. everything. You listened intently, drawn into every word coming out of her beautiful mouth and then she listened to you and your life.
“So, what’s going to happen when you go away for the World Cup?” you asked intrigued by her answer. You had been wondering if she’d expect you to stay at your mum’s or house sit for her or this is where our journey would end. “Errrr…. You’re coming with me?!” she said in a ‘are you stupid’ kinda voice. “As much as I would love to, I do have a job remember?” knowing realistically, going for the whole tournament would be nye on impossible “why don’t you get a job where you can travel the world with me?” she said surprisingly seriously “Oh yeah, where am I gonna get one of them?” you looked at her with furrowed brows “The job centre?” You both giggled but after giving her a look of seriousness her expression turned to disappointment. “Okay okay… but will you come out for the final if we make it?” she puppy eyed you “If?! If you make the final?! You’re gonna win and you all know it!” You tickled her to bring the smile back to her face “I’d like to see you try and stop me from coming! What date is it, I’ll book my annual leave tomorrow”. She told you the tournament dates then mentioned she’ll be going to camp in a couple months to train before the tournament. All in all she’ll be gone for close to two months - longer than the time you’ve been together. You decided you better make the most of having her close to you and listed off the things you want to do before she leaves. You wanted to see your grandparents and introduce her to the rest of your family. She wanted to go on a night out. You both wanted to go on more dates so you set to work planning adventures before she went away.
You had work the next day and suggested getting Daly Brightness back together “you know, from a fans perspective your content is really lacking, what happened with that?” Rach said it started during lockdown when she was in America but they became too busy to keep it up. Suggesting that now she’s home they should make more videos and build a brand, Rach called her to plan a friend date.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“So, what’s going to happen when you go away for the World Cup?” you asked knowing it was only a few months away “Errrr…. You’re coming with me?!” she said in a ‘are you stupid’ kinda voice. “Babe, I do have a job remember?” replying with seriousness. “Right? It’s only four weeks… oh but camp is first that’s another three weeks” she started working out the maths in her head “over a month without you, how will I cope?!” acting dramatically while laughing. “You could quit..?” she said in a jokey sort of secretly serious kinda way. “Oh yeah, then how will I afford to live?” The edges of her mouth lifted slightly trying to disguise her disappointment “I’m just scared that when I go away, you’ll forget about me” she puppy eyed you with a pouty lip, you laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bed “Rachel Ann Daly! There’s nothing in this world that could make me forget about you! You could forget about me though! How many other girls out there have your shirts from a night with you, I think I’m in more danger of being forgotten here!” You played jokingly. She looked a bit taken back like she was actually trying to work out the numbers then sat up crossed legged to face you looking all serious.
“The numbers don’t matter, there’s been quite a few but that’s because I was sad and fans are easy” you scoffed at her “no hear me out!” You calmed down to listen to her reasoning “I was sad and lost after my dad died and I just wanted to feel something” as she pulled the heart strings “none of them made me feel anything, I literally left as soon as it was over because I felt disgusting” she paused and took your hands in hers “I didn’t leave you, in fact I haven’t let you leave me! That night with you was different, you didn’t just make me feel something, you made me feel everything! You made me vulnerable and treated me like a person not just like a semi famous footballer who wants a quicky. You were gentle and kind and loving and I felt like a magnet was drawing me to you. I’ve never asked anyone to be my girlfriend apart from other footballers and that never works out because we’re always in different places on different schedules. You’re like a breath of fresh air, you don’t treat me like someone who’s on the tv every week or someone who gets asked for autographs and photos, you treat me like a normal person. You’ve met my family, you talked to my dad, you’re supportive and everyone I know loves you. You’re the only name I remember and the only one I have photos of. Don’t you dare think you’re just another hook up! Yeah, there’s a few girls out there who have my shirt after a game but you’re the only person I wanna see wearing it. Our sex is fucking amazing but I don’t love you just because of the sex. You’re the only one that I’ve bought home, you’re the only one that’s met my family, you’re the only one that’s made TikTok’s with my team, you’re the only one I’ve woken up with after, you’re the only one period. Heck I think you’re THE one!”
You were taken aback, you didn’t know what to say you just knew that whatever was happening inside of you right now made you want to cry. “Baby, I knew you were different the moment after our first time - that moment of care and attention changed everything for me”. You were full on crying now. It was the confirmation you had been hoping for. Rachel took you into her arms “I didn’t know if you felt the same way I do and I was so scared of the heartbreak that would come when you were finished with me but I wanted to hold on to you as long as I could until then” you sobbed. “I can never imagine breaking your heart (y/n/n), you’re the purest soul I’ve ever met, you’re perfect for me” she stroked the strands of hair from your damp face. “Going back to the part where you said you loved me…” you said looking up at her batting your eyelashes “I didn’t say..” “I don’t love you just for the sex, is what you said” interrupting her. Rachel’s cheeks started to turn rosy as she searched for a response “shh, pretend you didn’t hear that yet” she said with a cheeky smile making you feel all gooey inside. She pulled you onto her lap and kissed you to stop any more questions being asked.
Part Twelve - Fight Night
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Rosa's first Christmas with the fam
...because it's that time of year, y'all. I don't write much these days, as life is a lot, and I've done most of what I wanted to. But I managed to put out just a wee bit of Christmas Taystela fluff. Well, er, fluff with a side of killing off the yeti.
The Elysian Lodge, La Huerta, 2042
“Rosa, wanna come help me make some Christmas cookies? You can lick the spoon afterwards and everything!”
Auntie Quinn was warm, and friendly, and nice. The least intimidating of all the grown-ups, to Rosa’s mind. So it was an easy decision to say ‘yes’ to making cookies.
“Are we doing them in shapes?” Rosa mumbled into her thumb. They’d made cookies in Christmas shapes one time, when she was in The Home; though the same old kids hogged the green and red icing, and she didn’t really get much of a look-in as a result.
“That’s the plan!” Quinn replied, beaming her welcoming smile. “Erin’s just digging out some cookie cutters.”
Rosa felt her legs turn to lead, even as she wandered over. How many of them were going to be doing this? If all the other, bigger kids were helping out too, it might be hard to enjoy herself….
Quinn must have known this, for she said; “It’ll be a team of you, me, and Erin. E is an absolute whiz at baking-- she’ll help us out with some of the tricky bits!”
Rosa knew that Quinn didn’t really need help; she baked things for her job. She must just like making the kids feel good. That was pretty nice of her. And Erin… if Quinn was the least intimidating of all the grown-ups, then Erin had to be the least intimidating of all the kids. She was gentle, with a soft, tinkling laugh. She looked out for the little ones, and that included Rosa. Erin was definitely Rosa’s favourite of her three cousins.
“Me, you, Erin… and Princess Daisy?” she suggested, holding up her ragdoll fairy.
Estela came and sat down at the breakfast bar. “Or,” she said, “I could look after Princess Daisy for you. I have a feeling it might get a little messy.”
Shyly, Rosa snuggled up to her mom, pressing the doll into her lap. “She’s gonna watch?” Which meant, of course, Princess Daisy and Mama Estela. It was a ton easier to have fun with the safety net of mom close by.
“We’ll be right here if you need anything.” Estela spoke firmly, as though she meant every word. Rosa always trusted that she did… and so she relaxed into a morning of baking fun among trusted friends-- while her mom watched with a mug of cocoa and a ragdoll fairy in hand.
In the Elysian’s main lounge, Rosa’s other mom was slumped in an armchair, sipping her own steaming cocoa.
“I guess you’re not as young this time round… gotta be feeling it different,” Diego consoled. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not doing great.”
Taylor groaned, but gave her old friend an appreciative glance. “I don’t know if ‘great’ is the word I’d use, buddy, but thanks. What I do know is that I can’t wait for home-schooling to be behind us. Maybe we’ll take her out for a year when she’s older like we did with Liv, but for now, this just isn’t working.”
Michelle sat down with them, draping herself over the arm of the plushest couch. She, Quinn, and their family, were spending a rare Christmas on La Huerta, keen to make the most of the opportunity while the growing kids still wanted to spend time with their moms. Between a busy work life as a neurohospitalist and a home life as mom of a fifteen and eleven year old, she knew all too well what it was to teeter on the edge of burnout.
“Please, you’re doing amazing,” she scoffed. “Last time we were here, I don’t think I heard a word out of Rosa’s mouth the whole two weeks; you wouldn’t guess it to look at her now. You guys have made her feel secure, and it shows. Now you’ve got that attachment, I know it’ll just get easier.”
“Thanks…. Thanks, Michelle,” Taylor said quietly. “A lot of the time, it’s ‘one step forward, two steps back’, but we’re getting there.”
“That’s all you can do,” Grace assured kindly. “One step at a time. Just take some moments to come up for breath as you go.”
Taylor let herself sink deeper into her chair, hearing Rosa’s giggles floating from the nearby kitchen. Where it mattered, they were doing great. And she damn well deserved that hot mug of cocoa and the relaxed, cosy Christmas Eve she was looking forward to.
__________________
And yet, not even two hours later, Taylor found herself trudging through the snow into a darkening evening, carrying a blanket laden with Christmas cookies that now seemed destined to make up the final meal of a dying yeti. Beside her, Estela had a rugged-up Rosa riding piggy-back.
“You definitely jinxed it, Grace!” Michelle complained, wrapping her arms ever tighter around herself to brace against the cold. “‘Quiet uneventful holiday’…. was that really too much to ask?”
“I must have forgotten to touch wood,” Grace admitted good-naturedly. She and her family had spent rather more time on La Huerta in the intervening years than had Michelle and Quinn’s clan, so much so that she barely batted an eyelid at an impromptu expedition into the mountains. So long as they weren’t going far, she was confident all would be well.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” said Isla resolutely. She’d been seriously injured by one of La Huerta’s legendary guardians in the past… and this was a goddamn yeti. Probably in pain, and definitely dangerous.
Quinn put an arm around her daughter. “One of us can take you back to the lodge-- there’s no pressure on you to come along.”
“No!” Isla scowled. “Not that I don’t trust you to keep Con safe or anything, but you and Mom are gonna be busy with the yeti-thing. If Conor’s crazy enough to go sniffing around a dying monster, I’m going to be there looking out for the doofus.”
Conor, as they spoke, was up at the front of the small pack, hanging off Liv and Jeimy as they led the way to where they found the ailing yeti.
Taylor was grateful that Rosa was right within arm’s reach, and sensibly cautious of the unknown-- for in this case, Rosa’s ‘unknown’ was something best kept at a respectful distance. They’d be there to comfort Arktos, but by no means would the children be placed in harm’s way.
“Con’s not getting anywhere near the yeti, Isla,” she assured. “All of you kids are going to sit right back and keep your distance.”
“Thanks Auntie Tay.”
“Typical,” Michelle laughed, shaking her head, “people always listen to Taylor…. You know I should bring you in to talk to some of my patients one of these days….”
Taylor caught her old friend’s eye and grinned. “Not on your life.”
Rosa could smell the mammoth beast before she saw it, and instinctively clung tighter to her mom’s neck and shoulders. In front of them at the entrance to a cave, Aleister was settling his teenage girls down, and they were joined by Isla and Conor.
“Woah!” Conor gasped. “She’s bigger than an elephant!”
“Con, sit down, you idiot!” Isla tugged at his jacket.
And as Estela trudged closer to them, Rosa’s jaw dropped at the sight of the creature that had Conor entranced.
Arktos filled the cave from floor to ceiling, even as she lay on her belly. Upon her massive head were two spiralling horns, one of which was broken. Her misty eyes darted over her visitors, and her nose snorted as she sniffed the air.
Estela helped Rosa down from her back. “She wouldn’t want to hurt you. She’s like Furball-- we can communicate with her way more than any normal animal. But she’s also as big as a bus and with horns and claws… so we’ll just keep back here. Are you okay?”
Rosa nodded, but stuck close, overawed. She’s seen some pretty special things on La Huerta, but nothing quite so magical as the storied yeti-bear. And the yeti-bear needed help….
“Is Auntie ‘Chelle gonna make her better?” she asked in whisper.
Taylor’s face clouded, but she didn’t shy from the question. “I don’t think so, darling, no.” She could sense it in her bones, as though a soft hum of consciousness wa being shared between herself and the yeti; it was simply Arktos’ time. “Arktos has lived for a long time, and she’s now very sick, and very tired. I think she’s ready to die.”
Rosa responded with just a quiet “Oh,” and sat back in Estela’s lap.
“What we’re going to do,” Taylor said, “is to make her comfortable at the end. Auntie Michelle’s medicine will do that. And those cookies you kids brought-- I reckon Arktos will love them. Auntie Quinn and I will do the feeding, okay? We’ve had the most connection with her over the years; it’s probably safest.”
So, most of the group settled just out the mouth of the cave, giving enough space so the yeti was not to feel crowded. There they kept a quiet vigil, watching on from a distance, and offering caring thoughts. Over time, Conor edged closer, quickly pulled back in line by Liv, who’d taken it upon herself to help Isla with keeping him safe while their mothers were busy.
“She’s old and sick, Con,” Estela said flatly, “but she could still snap you like a twig. Anyway-- she doesn’t know you. Let her die with peace.”
Con made a show of planting himself firmly down where he was meant to be, right between Isla and Liv. “Do you think she likes singing?” he asked after a moment’s contemplation. “We could sing some Christmas carols or something. Not that she knows it’s Christmas Eve or anything….”
Isla’s eyes lit up. “Should have brought your guitar.” And then, she began softly singing the first holiday tune to come to her head; ‘White Christmas’.
The others followed suit; first Conor and Liv, and Jeimy who would turn down a sing-along when hell froze over, then Grace and Erin joined in, then everyone else. Only Rosa remained silent, too self-conscious to do more than mouth the words to the songs she knew. She caught a warm smile from her Mama Taylor in the cave; maybe Arktos really liked the singing.
“So, Rosi… what have you asked Santa for?” Isla asked a while later, clearly hoping some quiet conversation would help the younger girl through what had become a sombre evening-- it was, after all, a lot for a little kid of seven to deal with.
Rosa was surprised. Isla was fifteen-- surely she didn’t believe in Santa still. Even her younger brother, Conor, would have wised up by his age. Did Isla just think Rosa was such a baby to believe in something that was clearly made-up?
“Err…,” she said softly, not wanting to be rude, as it was pretty obvious that Isla was being nice, “I don’t really believe in Santa”.
If he was real, he’d probably do more to help kids with no homes. Kids like Rosa-- well, Rosa until now.
“Oh-- that was a big assumption I made, huh? Are your moms gonna do ‘Santa’ then, or just keeping things real?”
Rosa glanced back to her Mama Estela… who was better than any make-believe old bearded dude to her mind. “Moms said Santa can be a game we play, but I know it’s just them.”
“That’s what we do!” Conor chimed in. “If we wanna get presents from the big guy, we go through the motions of believing, even though it’s obviously Mom and Mama.”
Erin, sitting beside Rosa, grinned. “Dad used to dress up and everything!”
Estela snorted affectionately. “A bit thin to be convincing, but that probably would help for going up and down chimneys.” And the twins chuckled.
“Thank you,” Aleister sniffed. “I can’t say I’m sorry that particular joy of parenthood is behind us. I certainly was not convincing, and I don’t believe Imogen bought it for even a second.”
“Nothing gets past you, mija,” Estela said warmly to her niece.
Then, the gigantic bear groaned, and the kids fell silent again, not wanting to disturb her.
Rosa was entranced by Arktos. The yeti looked like a monster, but she was calm and gentle as Taylor, Quinn and Michelle tended to her, carefully taking those special Christmas cookies from their hands, and letting them hold her paw as a comfort.
“Is she hurting?” Rosa whispered, so only her mom could hear.
Estela frowned. “I don’t think so. Michelle gave her something to take the pain away, or at least making it a lot less. She probably feels just… exhausted, like her whole body is heavy.”
Rosa trusted that to be the case, for her Mama Estela never lied to her, even to make her feel better.
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It was not much later when Arktos breathed her last, the silence broken only by Furball’s whimpering at her colossal paws. Quinn sat up straight, her face wet with tears, and gestured for the others to join them to say goodbye.
Waiting her turn after the older kids, Rosa held her mothers’ hands. Her Mama Taylor was teary.
“The yeti-bear was your friend?” she whispered.
“Oh--” Taylor wiped her face. “Yeah, I guess she was. A long, long time ago, she even let me ride her into battle against some seriously evil bad guys. She climbed up the side of a big old hotel building with me hanging on! But mostly… I’ve always been happy knowing she’s out there in the mountains. It felt like she’d keep us safe if ever we needed it. She helped a few of us out over the years.”
“Mrrrp,” Furball confirmed.
The others headed out of the cave, and Rosa felt suddenly nervous. She watched on as her moms lay their hands upon the yeti’s shoulder, paying their respects to an old friend. She wasn’t sure she could be brave enough to do the same.
“Night-night, yeti-bear,” she mumbled. Then she dared to let her fingers ever-so-lightly skim Arktos’ thick fur. “I hope your life was happy and nice.”
“I reckon it was,” Estela assured. “And I can tell you this for free; there are worse things than dying of old age, surrounded by people who love you, and being fed cookies. Come on, mi vida. We better leave her in peace.”
Hoisted back up onto her secure place upon her mom’s back, Rosa nestled in. It was a strain to keep her watering eyes open, and tucked up against Estela’s warm coat, she was so cosy….
_____________________
Taylor tenderly pulled up the heavy blanket around her young daughter’s chin. Rosa had barely stirred when they came back up to the suite, their clothes damp from the snow. She’d cried a little, moved by the passing of a magnificent being, and then fallen asleep for a second time, in Taylor’s arms.
It wasn’t the Christmas Eve Taylor’d had in mind. Still, a stocking hung at the end of the bed, already filled, and both moms had left goodnight kisses on Rosa’s forehead, so all was well in the scheme of things. Liv had disappeared off to her own room with Jeimy, for she was all grown up now. Just Taylor and Estela left awake in their cosy suite.
“We’ll just have to break tradition and do the natilla tomorrow,” Estela yawned.
Her little one tended to, Taylor got into her own pyjamas and slipped under the covers. As always, she was drawn by the warmth of her wife’s body.
“I’d been so looking forward to introducing Rosi to the Montoya Family Christmas Eve,” she said, sighing. “What matters is she’s happy, and she is, but she’s already seven… every holiday counts when they grow up so fast. And the sooner family traditions get cemented in for her, the better. She’s gotta be part of it.”
Estela frowned a little. Childhood slipped away, and then it was gone. They’d wanted to give Rosa an evening of simple joys, and somehow they’d ended up introducing her to death instead. They could hope to do better next time round, but life was nothing if not unpredictable. What Estela knew they could do, was be there to soften the bumps in the road as Rosa came upon them.
“The general gist was there,” she admitted. “We stayed up. Ate something sweet-- in this case, shared with a dying yeti. We had family around. I’m pretty sure ‘best laid plans going down the crapper’ is a Montoya family tradition anyway.”
Taylor couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “True, that. Gotta be the reason for all these grey hairs I’m getting….”
Estela laughed, and brought Taylor closer, kissing her. “Mi amor, you are getting near fifty. You’re gonna have to make peace with the grey hairs.”
Taylor returned the kiss, lingering in the feel of the woman she loved near to her. For all the challenges of motherhood, peace was one thing she didn’t truly need to want for. She had it when Rosa fell asleep, content in the knowledge that her moms were there for her. And she had it in all those years she’d spent with Estela and with Liv, and the more they still had to share.
“Happy Christmas,” she said quietly. “And now, I think we’d do well to take a leaf out of Rosi’s book and get some shut-eye.
Estela kissed her again, then blew one across the room to their slumbering child. “Happy Christmas… goodnight.”
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Chapter Eleven: The Darkness Settles In
Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter
The week went by at a strange pace. The castle had to be abandoned quickly, as the lesser Doom Lords claimed it as a base. Rex let them stay in his cabin, but the act of aggression that displaced his friends emboldened him. He had vanished for a few days, but was returned to his cabin unconscious and with a note stapled to the back of his vest that read "NOT THE HERO. NOT EVEN CLOSE." and signed with a little heart. Hawkodile carried him inside and put him on the couch.
"This is getting silly." He ripped the note off of Rex's vest and slammed it in the trash.
"Well, I don't think it's funny. Rex is just doing what he thinks is right. What is and isn't heroic is-" Unikitty was stopped with Hawkodile's raised hand.
"Not the note… Well, the note is part of it but not the whole thing. They're taunting us now." The chimera knelt on one knee and checked Rex over for injury. "He'll be fine. Just knocked out." The bodyguard straightened up and went to lock Rex's front door. "I hate to admit it, but we've gotta take the castle back. It's more defensible than this cabin and… it's our home. We should be defending it, not hiding in this cabin."
"It is on a higher point and provides a better vantage point." Doctor Fox agreed, putting a makeshift ice pack on Rex's head. "We need to come up with the perfect plan, though. They do have the gemstones, which will cause problems for us." She moved some of Rex's hair out of his eyes. "I analyzed the one we have using some equipment I built from things I found around our friend's workshop and it's an item of great magical power. It can amplify the powers of a being using it, which means the Doom Lords are more powerful than we can imagine now. They can do untold damage."
"But can't he, too?" Unikitty pointed to Rex.
"I would advise against giving him our only gem. It's not that he can't be trusted, but I'd rather not have someone with untested power that is known to break holes in planets with untested magical gems that could increase that power by an untold amount." Doctor Fox walked to the kitchen and returned with some sandwiches. "Someone needs to do a grocery run. All we have now is three crates of energy drinks and half a cupboard of ramen."
"There was more in the fridge yesterday." Puppycorn pointed out, opening the fridge to find nothing.
"My calculations are that he would have had enough to feed maybe one person for a month. There are four people, which increases the intake considerably." Doctor Fox sat on the armrest of the couch. There was soon a knock at the door. Hawkodile went into a fighting stance and Fox pulled out her net launcher. Unikitty looked out the front window. "It's just Rick." She opened the door for the floating brick, who was holding several bags in the grooves on the top of his head.
"Help me with the groceries, princess. I had a feeling you were running low." The cat took some of the bags and put them in the kitchen. Rick floated to the kitchen and began to put everything away.
"Where were you, Rick? We haven't seen you since the… we lost the castle." She said the last bit quietly.
"RJ found me in the broom closet when he decided to… how did he put it… "punch that Lord Business wannabe in the face." Rick made a face as he noticed how unorganized everything was in the kitchen. "I was locked in there, but I don't think it was on purpose. I'm going to do some organizing while I'm here."
"Well, now that we're all here… How are we gonna take back the castle?" Unikitty looked at each of the conscious members of the group for any ideas.
"It's more than the castle, princess. The Doom Lords have started to take over the rest of the kingdom. I don't know what they're planning, but it's big." Rick's fear barely rose to the surface of his monotone voice. A soft moan came from the sole human's throat as he stirred. "Good. He's waking up. I was worried." The brick sighed softly, letting his fear leave with his breath.
"Did you see what happened to him?" Doctor Fox moved the ice pack to match Rex's movement.
"No. I was too busy fleeing the castle." Rick finished organizing Rex's fridge and moved on to the cupboard.
"Lucy?" Rex slowly opened his dark eyes and groaned. His hand covered his heart shaped cowlick. "I feel like I'm the DeLorean at the end of Part Three."
"Could you report on what you encountered when you stormed the castle?" Doctor Fox moved Rex's hand and put the ice pack under it.
"Yeah. Ya look like ya took a beating." Hawkodile added, remaining by the door.
"I've never seen so much power. Doom took me out before I even had a chance. It's gotta be the gem." Rex tried to get up, but got halfway before sinking back into the couch cushions. "I'll be feelin' this for weeks."
"You need to stop being so impulsive, RJ. You're gonna end up in big trouble one day." The bodyguard glanced out the window.
"They took the castle, Hawk. They took the castle and want to level the planet to expand their offices." The group gasped. "I ain't gonna lose the closest thing I've had to a home since Undar."
"Where didja get that info, Dangervest?"
"My lawyer finally got back to me on that contract before shredding it in his paper shredder. The plan, at least with me involved, was for me to Master Breaker Punch the castle. With the power of the Gems of Ackrilique, I could have turned this planet into a parking lot." He turned to Puppycorn. "Kid, get me somethin' to drink?" The puppy ran off to get Rex some water.
"So she knew about the Gems?"
"I'm just puttin' two and two together. Even if the gems were a last minute development, that would only make me stronger. I'm already a one man wrecking crew." He thanked Puppycorn and took a gulp. "Imagine what would happen if I had one of those gems and hit the ground with a well aimed punch."
"I am glad you agree with me on that assessment." Doctor Fox frowned, emotions unreadable. "You should only take possession of our one gem as a nuclear option. We can't begin to calculate how much damage your unique set of powers will cause under those conditions without controlled testing we do not have time for right now."
"And you refuse to control yourself when it comes to Master Doom. We lived here before you came along. If anyone should be running into the castle, it's us." Hawkodile added. It was clearer to see the annoyance in his tone and stance.
"But your morality is keepin' you from doin' it, right? You wanna reduce the collateral damage to zero and make sure the whole kingdom is safe before takin' the fight to the Doom Lords. That's what separates me and you, Hawk. I do what I have to."
"Then why don't you use the time machine to stop the Doom Lords? That'd make everyone happy."
"See, I did try that. I have an inhibitor protocol set on the ship that won't allow me to travel to a point in time with more than two Rexcelsiors. I think a future version of me beat me to it. I can't travel to a useful point in time to stop the Doom Lords." Rex casually shrugged. "Really inconvenient. I should leave myself a note telling me where to shove it."
"How far back have you tried?" Doctor Fox pulled a notebook out of her lab coat pocket.
"Tried as far back as the day the Systarian queen did her tour. Another Rexcelsior has been parked in a three light-year radius of Unikingdom airspace for all that time."
"Can you contact that ship and ask them to leave?" Hawkodile asked flatly.
"Not that simple. I would have had to do this back then and attempt contact on my radio. I don't know when I will go back, either. So contact is impossible in a way that'll get present me into the past."
"Can you contact him now and ask what he's been doing this whole time?"
"Why not? The frequency the second ship is communicating on probably changed to not interfere with my communications." He tried to get up again and sank back down. "Puppycorn, go use my radio and try to talk to the second ship. Make sure ya get the bridge." He saw the look on Hawkodile's face and added, "The kid knows my access code. He's more than capable of talkin' to a future me." The dog rushed excitedly off to Rex's study. "Hey, Rich. What's it like in town? I may need to get supplies."
"You are fully stocked, RJ. I would avoid going to town if I were all of you." Rick reached into a bag and pulled out four wanted posters, one for each of the adult members of the party. The bounty on each one scaled to suit the threat level, with Rex and Unikitty having the highest amounts.
"They better have gotten my good side." Rex quipped. Hawkodile grabbed the wanted posters and was about to throw them away. "I'll keep 'em. They'll look awesome framed in my study when this is all over."
"They are actively looking for you and they turned everything to look more like Frowntown." Rick stated with a frown. Unikitty looked like she was about to faint.
"Hey, RJ? What is a FUBAR?" Puppycorn shouted from the study. "The raptor I found keeps sending that when I send the access code."
"It means 'fu… fouled up beyond all repair'. Got it from a military flick." He closed his eyes. "Looks like that Rex is havin' a worse time than me. Run the access code by 'em again and ask for the captain to come to our coordinates. I wrote 'em on a sticky note on the radio."
"My kingdom looks like Frowntown‽ No… That can't be." Unikitty deflated. "Things keep getting worse."
"I don't see it getting too much worse right now. If they want to do what RJ believes they do, they would need to get rid of the Unikingdom citizens." Rick pointed out.
"Bro, I'm on your side and I don't give a crap about Master Breaking someone's house in half for the greater good. They probably care even less. No, they want something else. Something we have that they don't." Rex tried one more time to sit up and was able to.
"Can I assume you mean the fourth Gem of Ackrilique?" Doctor Fox asked.
"Of course. They could end everything in one go with all four gems." He laughed. "Man, this sounds like somethin' outta a video game."
"Well, it isn't. It's happening for real!" Unikitty turned blue, not seeing the humor in the situation Rex did. Puppycorn returned and sat by Rex's side.
"The captain was comin' this way anyway, so we'll see him soon." The pup reported. That earned him a half hearted hug from Rex.
"Guess we'll know soon what I'll be doing in the future. I bet I have a cool scar over my eyebrow from a big fight or something." His hand went to a scar on his arm. The pup could see worry on his best friend's face, something he was trying to hide and failing miserably. "Kid. Don't believe what the movies say. A skilled time traveler can communicate with their past and future selves. You can touch them, too. You just gotta remember that the person you're seein' only represents one future, one timeline. Whatever is goin' wrong for this other Rex can be fixed. The future is what you make of it." The puppy nodded.
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Haunted House: If you could be roommates with anyone of your choice, who would you pick?
honestly!!! @robert-downeyjr!! then she’d be here all the time and we wouldn’t have to travel hours to see each other and i wouldn’t have to miss her so much
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Breeding Kink Pt. 2 | Dragon!Zhongli
Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader
Genre: SMUTTTT!!
Words: 5.2k
A/N: Oh god i have no braincells anymore. Zhongli fcked with my braincells as well. Here ya go. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Happy Birthday as well.
Warning: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC, SO MINORS OUT THERE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
PART 1 HERE
*
It was already deep into the night.
The last of the busy market kiosks has died down, the golden glow of their lanterns flickered off for the day, while the late-night loiterers had gone to rest at their station as silence and the sound of crickets settled in. The harbor has truly gone to sleep after a rough day’s work, and will rise once again at early dawn.
Yet inside the bedchambers of a certain married couple, things were still heating up.
“Z-Zhongli…! Please…!”
You held on to the silken sheets tightly with face flushed and sweating. Every now and then, a moan would escape your lips, savoring the moment where ecstasy was at its peak. It felt good—really good—as your husband Zhongli thrusted sharply into you.
“YN…” he growled beside your ear as he bent down, kissing the bare skin of your shoulders. “YN…I’m close…haa…”
He could feel all the pleasure welling up inside of him. You were holding on to him like a vice grip, as if wringing him out of his seed and coaxing him to come inside you. Zhongli felt his dick twitch at the thought of filling you up, pushing him closer to his climax.
“Aahhh…so g-good….mmnn….! Zhongli…! I’m gonna—”
“My love…I-I…!”
—!
“Mama? Papa…?”
A knock at their door, followed by a small voice stopped the both of them in their tracks.
Oh no, not again…
Looking at each other, you and Zhongli immediately scrambled to compose yourselves.
“Yuqing…ah, please stay where you are—"
“Honey, just a second! Let me…let me just find my slippers—”
Hurriedly, you grabbed your discarded robe on the floor and put on your sandals, while your husband raced to the adjacent bathroom to relieve himself. “Love, I’ll be there in a moment. Please take Yuqing back to her room in the meantime,” was what he said.
As you opened the door, you were greeted by curious amber eyes—the same as her father’s—who seemingly stared at you as if trying to assess the situation. She was carrying her favorite plushie, a geovishap hatchling, for some reason, while you knelt down and caressed her cheeks gently.
“Yuqing? What’s wrong?” you asked her, “It’s way past your bedtime.”
“Something jumped from the window, Mama…! I…I don’t want to go back!” She replied, almost in a whisper as she held on to the plushie tightly.
Your daughter’s words immediately caught your attention. It could just be a squirrel, or maybe something more dangerous. Nevertheless, you have to go check it out.
“Alright, honey. Let’s see what it is,” you replied as you carried her on your arms. “Mama and Papa can easily hunt monsters down!”
Yuqing blinked at you. “Hm? But where’s Papa?”
“Oh, uh…he just needs to pee,” you replied awkwardly, not totally forgetting what you two were doing a while ago.
By the time you arrived at Yuqing’s bedroom, you were greeted by a calico cat which was carrying her own young into the room, staring at you both with scrutinizing eyes. It seemed to have taken a liking to the room and decided to take shelter there. You instantly knew what was the matter.
“It’s a mama cat!” Yuqing exclaimed happily, jumping from your grasps as you muttered “be careful!” at the ecstatic child.
“Don’t come too close to it, honey,” you told her, sitting on the bed as you watched your daughter crouch near the animal to observe it. “The mama cat doesn’t like it if you touch her kittens. She might scratch you.”
“Oh…” your daughter murmured disappointingly, and then returned to your side when she had enough watching.
Looking down to her, you could really see how much Yuqing resembled Zhongli—the same eyes, the same dignified yet gentle countenance. Her hair was a little lighter but it’ll probably turn as dark as Zhongli’s when she’s older. You smiled at the thought of watching your daughter grow—a few years ago, she was still so small and fragile as you held her for the first time, but now, she’ll be turning six, and then eleven, and then little will you know, she has become such a fine lady.
Pulling her into an embrace, you caught the child off guard as you smothered her with kisses.
“Mama!” She protested, but was giggling at the same time. “Mama…what are you doing!”
“I just love my dearest Yuqing!” you exclaimed, but then stopped to pat her head gently. “Now, are you still scared?”
The dark-haired girl shook her head with a smile. “I’m ok now, Mama! It was just a cat.”
“Alright,” you smiled as you began tucking her in again. “We’ll talk in the morning what we’ll do with the cat, but right now, it’s time for you to sleep. Little girls need to sleep for them to grow big, okay?”
“Understood! Good night then, Mama!” Yuqing replied underneath her blanket, as you gently soothed her head. The whole time, you continued to do it until she had finally fallen asleep, soft snores coming from the small child which made you smile warmly.
By the time you returned to your bedroom, you could see that the bathroom lights were still on. You were waiting for Zhongli to swing by Yuqing’s room earlier but for some reason, he’s been caught up in the bathroom this whole time. It also seemed like your husband had heard you enter the room and began calling for you.
“Dear…! Perhaps you could come here for a moment?”
Curious about what was going on, you then stepped into the bathroom and only to be greeted by a much larger, more draconic Zhongli. You could only stare at the large protruding horns on his head, the scales on his arms and legs, and the tail that was swinging back and forth between his legs. Not to mention the large thing on his crotch that made you do a double take at the mere sight of it.
Zhongli closed his eyes as soon as he noticed your stunned expression. Despite how he looks, he still had a bit of his self-control intact.
“YN, I think we have a problem here,” he told you as calmly as he could.
“I might be going into heat again.”
*
It was finally D-Day.
The both of you spent the last week trying to prepared for this, because unlike the first time, you had responsibilities. For one, Yuqing had to be taken elsewhere and away from the carnage. It will not bode well if your child is there while your husband is being one horny dragon.
The people both of you know where highly dangerous though. Among the rejected list was Childe, Hu Tao, and Venti, with the last one loudly lamenting how he couldn’t have fun with Yuqing in Mondstadt. Keqing and Ningguang would be great but they’re busy with work, while the adepti wouldn’t have enough skills and patience to babysit a child for a week, even if it was the child of the former geo archon. That’s why in the end, you asked Lumine and Aether to take care of your daughter for a while—they were at least, safe enough not to put Yuqing in danger. Hopefully.
On the other hand, you had to prepare yourself for another bang of your life. The first time had caught you off guard, but this time, you were prepared to satiate your half-dragon husband to the fullest. You had also prepared yourself to conceive another child. Well, you really were planning to, but it was the night when Yuqing interrupted you two.
“Dear?” A head peered into the kitchen—or rather, a head with two horns.
Zhongli’s dragon features seemed to be staying longer and longer the nearer his heat approaches. Luckily enough, it wasn’t much of a rare sight in Liyue.
“Oh, morning, Zhongli. Should I brew you some tea?” you asked, busying yourself with breakfast for your family of three.
“It’s alright. I’ll do it,” he replied as he stepped in beside you, preparing the hot water to be boiled.
For a while, the both of you stayed like this in silence. You were concentrating on not getting the congee burned while he was trying to get the proper temperature of the water.
In the end, it was Zhongli who broke the silence.
“Will you be alright later?”
You whipped your head to his direction. “H-huh? What? Me? Oh, I’ll be fine!”
“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you and caressing your cheeks with the tip of his sharp claws. “If only I could assure you that it will be painless.”
“Zhongli,” you called his name firmly as you flipped an egg. “You have never hurt me, and you never will. I survived the first time, right? We have Yuqing running around after all.”
Your words seemed to have magically melted his worries away, no matter how tacky you thought there were. But you didn’t know that Zhongli simply needed your assurance that it will be okay, otherwise, he’d go into a spiral of worry. Comforted by your presence, he crept his arms around you, hugging you from your side.
“Ah, my wife…my lovely wife…” he muttered happily as he nestled his head on your shoulder, savoring your scent and your warmth. “You’re really my wife…”
You giggled at his sudden show of playfulness. “That I am, sir.”
For Zhongli to be this affectionate, it seemed his heat has really gotten to him. Normally, he’ll reserve these kinds of actions for the both of you late at night, but right now, he’s incredibly clingly and wouldn’t stop following you wherever you go. For the most part, he really loves taking in your scent and running his hands around your body.
Soon enough, you hear the loud and rapid padding of feet on the floor as it dashed towards the kitchen where the two of you were. In a few moments, Zhongli was face to face with his own daughter who grinned gleefully at him.
“Mama, Papa!” Yuqing exclaimed as she clung to you like her father.
“Now young lady, what brings you here early in the morning?” Zhongli asked mischievously, still hugging you and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Lumine and Aether! They’re coming right? They’re coming!” she almost shouted, arm tightly adhered to your leg.
“In about half an hour, darling,” you replied. “Now, are you both aware that I’m trying to cook here? I can’t move!”
Instead of letting go however, Zhongli tightened his hold of you while nuzzling deeper on your shoulder while Yuqing did the same on your leg. You grumbled. “Like father, like daughter.”
Giggling, Yuqing glanced at her father who was tightly clinging to you like she was.
“Papa, do you like Mama?”
Zhongli, for a moment, smiled at her warmly before replying. “Very much so, my dear.”
You could only hide your flustered expression at his words. But of course, it made your heart skip a beat, even after marrying him and having his child, Zhongli could still make you feel this way with just a few words.
It was a good thing that Yuqing changed the subject before your heart could explode.
“Papa! You have horns!” she exclaimed and pointed at Zhongli’s head.
“Oh? Is this your first time seeing it?” he asked as he knelt to the floor. “Do you want to touch it?”
Zhongli could definitely see his daughter’s amber eyes sparkling with curiosity as she slowly inched her way closer to him. Yuqing may look like him, but she definitely has your temperament. The way she sees the world with so much wonder and excitement reminded Zhongli of you.
“Can I, Papa? Can I?” she asked, her small fingers reaching out for them.
“Yes, you may, my dear.”
Bending down, Zhongli felt Yuqing glide her fingers at smooth surface of the horns. “Be careful though, the tips should be sharp enough to wound you.”
Filled with wonder, the child gazed at Zhongli with amazement. “Papa, are you a dragon?!”
“I can become one.”
“Does…! Does that mean I can be a dragon too?!”
Aahh…You smiled at the two of them as you finished the last of your cooking. “Alright now. Let’s have breakfast. The twins will be here soon if we don’t hurry up!”
*
“Aether! Lumine!”
The dark-haired girl immediately ran towards the twins right after you opened the door to greet them, incredibly excited for the week ahead. Aether scooped her into his arms right away as Lumine pinched her cheek for being so adorable.
“We’re extremely grateful to you two for agreeing to take care of Yuqing,” you told them bashfully. “It was hard to think of anyone reliable and willing to do it in such a short notice.”
“It’s okay, YN,” Lumine replied, “We’d love to have Yuqing around anyway! Right, Aether?”
Distracted with playing with Yuqing, Aether turned to Lumine who was looking at him pointedly. “Huh? Oh! Oh yeah! We’re gonna play a lot!”
“Let’s play house again, Aether!” Yuqing interrupted, “I’ll be the mommy, Lumine will be the aunty and you’re the daddy!”
A large, tall shadow loomed over the twins from behind you. “I prefer if you’d arrange the designations in a different way.”
“Oh, Zhongli.” You turned to your husband who was menacing enough to make the male twin tremble like a leaf, especially in his half-dragon form.
“M-Mr. Z-Zhongli!” Aether immediately felt a chill run down his spine. If anything, he felt an overprotective dad is way scarier than all the monsters he battled so far.
“Good morning Mr. Zhongli,” Lumine greeted the man calmly with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything! Yuqing can be the mommy, I’ll be the daddy and Aether’s the dog.”
“Good.”
You could only smile awkwardly at the whole exchange. If this continues on, Zhongli might change his mind and insist his daughter to stay.
“Alright, here’s all her clothes for the week as well as other stuff she needs,” you interrupted as you shoved a bag on Lumine’s hands. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if something happens.”
Lumine only glanced at you with a plastered smile. Bothering them isn’t something she’d really want to do.
“We will, YN,” Aether replied and then exchanged looks with his sister. “I think it’s time for us to take off now though.”
“Alright. Come on, Yuqing, let mama and papa kiss you goodbye,” you told them as you reached out for your daughter who easily climbed out of Aether’s arms.
Crouching down, you and Zhongli embraced your daughter tightly, kissing her cheeks several times until she began protesting. With Zhongli chuckling, he patted her head gently while reminding her of several things.
“Now young lady, be of your best behavior. Don’t make Lumine and Aether worry too much.
“I will, Papa! Can I have almond tofu as a reward then?”
Zhongli smiled at her amusingly. “Alright. Do we have a contract then?”
“Yes! It’s a pinky promise!” Yuqing held out her pinky and linked it with Zhongli’s, who was careful not to scratch her with his claws.
“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins and eat your vegetables, ok? And sleep on time. Be careful not to go anywhere without telling Lumine or Aether!”
Yuqing sighed, “Yes, yes, Mama. I will.”
Ruffling her head, you finally kissed her forehead while Zhongli did the same.
“Don’t forget to have fun!”
As she ran off to Lumine’s side, the both of you stood up.
“We’ll be going then. See you after a week!” Aether exclaimed as they began to take the steps down the porch.
“Bye, bye, Mama, Papa!”
With that, the three of them disappeared and went off their way.
Glancing at your husband, it had finally dawned on you that this was only the beginning.
“So, should we get started?”
He asked, and you froze.
*
“W-wait…! Zhongli!”
“What’s the matter?”
Your husband asked you, as if he wasn’t pinning you against the wall, nuzzling against your neck as he took in your scent. You could feel his warm breath against your pulse, his hands on your waist as he continued to pepper small, faint kisses on your skin.
“It’s…it’s the middle of the day…a-and…and…!”
“You never had an issue with that… are you getting shy, my love?”
You could sense the teasing tone in his voice as he nibbled on your ear, without ever the intention of removing himself from you. Flustered, you pursed your lips as you bit down a moan.
“N-No, I’m not! It’s just…!”
“It’s just what?”
Zhongli smirked at your unexpected bashfulness, urging him to tease you more to see more of that adorable expression of yours.
“I-I mean, we just sent off Yuqing…and they might return or something—”
“Oh, they won’t.” Zhongli gave your jaw a small hickey. “Or at least I’m sure they are well aware not to bother us.”
“H-Huh…?”
Without furnishing you an answer, he simply knelt down before you and wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you down. Looking down, you could see him smirking mischievously at you, making you gulp.
“Why don’t we get you ready, my love?”
Slipping his head underneath your skirt, you instantly felt his lips on your thighs as he kissed his way up towards your core. You could feel yourself melting at the heat of the situation; the sensation of his warm tongue prodding your clothed entrance.
“Z-Zhongli…! Mnhh…!”
Even with your underwear on, you could easily feel him stimulate your sensitive clit as he circled his tongue around before sucking it. Your knees buckled immediately as you found your hands holding on to his horns, careful not to pull too much.
“You’re so drenched here, YN,” he told you, his voice vibrating against your sensitive parts.
“D-Don’t say that! O-Ohh…! Fuck!”
You couldn’t even tell him off properly as soon as he slid of your underwear and began to tease your hole with his tongue. You could feel him go in and out as his warmth filled you up. But it wasn’t enough, of course. After getting a taste of the real thing, nothing could satiate you other than him.
“Zhongli…oh god! Ah—!”
Without stopping, he continued to lap on your juices and stimulate you until you were at the edge of orgasm. You could feel your legs grow weak and the only thing keeping you from falling to the floor was his tight grip on you as he ruthlessly ate you out like a hungry man.
Peeking from underneath your skirt, Zhongli watched as he gradually pushed you closer and closer to your climax. His bright amber eyes filled with lust as he stared at your half-lidded eyes and trembling lips; crying his name out loud over and over again. He wanted to take you then and there, push his cock inside you until you were filled to the brim; his hard on was excruciatingly painful inside his pants, but he had to be patient and get you ready for him.
“Come for me, love,” he muttered, circling his tongue around your clit once more and sucking it.
It only took an instant for you to shiver and tremble in pleasure as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave. Your skin felt like a surge of electricity passed over you as your knees buckled and your arms held on to his shoulders to stop you from falling over.
Removing himself from underneath your skirt, Zhongli then scooped your weak figure and carried you on his arms towards the sofa. He had you sitting on his lap facing him while you encircled your arms around his shoulders and waiting for your high to calm down.
For a while, the both of you stayed like this. Zhongli kept on giving you small pecks on your neck and shoulders, slowly divesting you of your clothes as he went around your body. It was slow and sensual; unlike the first time he was in heat.
“H-Hey…you too…” you purred, kissing the underside of his jaw.
He only hummed at you; his hands busy with getting your skirt off of you. “Yes?”
“Let me undress you too.”
Zhongli reigned in his urges as soon as he heard your suggestion. His face flushed as he watched you slowly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt to reveal his toned chest. Groaning at the feeling of your hands on his bare skin, he knew he only had a few moments left before all his self-control could fly off the window. But it was incredible, he could only feel himself grow even harder.
Soon enough, you were already on the floor kneeling before him. Zhongli felt himself tense up at what you were about to do, but had to strength left to stop you from doing it. Silently, he watched as you glide your hands on his things and then to the prolific bulge on his pants. You could feel him poke you earlier while you were sitting on his lap, which gave you the idea of blowing him off.
Gradually, you undid his belt and pants and finally take out his monstrosity of a cock. Zhongli gave a guttural groan as he felt your hands pump his shaft tentatively, his claws biting at the soft leather of the sofa.
It wasn’t the first time you saw his cock, and while it was impressive in normal days, the one right before you was definitely befitting of a dragon. You hesitated.
H-how did this thing fit inside of me before?!
Nevertheless, you continued on. It was massive but it was definitely hot, seeing Zhongli sitting there in front of you with a flushed face and his cock out. Timidly, you gave the tip a small peck as you slowly allowed your tongue to glide over it.
“Y-YN…that’s…!”
Empowered by his reactions, you then licked the underside of his shaft until it was glistening wet with your saliva. Eventually, precum began to ooze out of the tip and curiously, you began licking it as well, sucking it in the process.
“Ughh…! F-fuck…YN…! I’m really—”
Trying to bob your head up and down, you could only fit so much of him inside your mouth as your jaw tried to accommodate his size. But you felt your core tighten up and become wet, thinking that this cock will eventually fill you up to the brim with his cum.
Zhongli was rapidly losing it. He wanted to cum, but he wanted to cum inside of you and have you bear his child. He wanted to see your cunt filled with his seed until it oozes out of you, and then plug his cock back inside of you to fill you up once again.
No, this won’t do.
“YN…! Y-YN…! P-Please stop! Mnnh—!”
He held your chin to make you stop—the way your lips left a trail of saliva to his dick tempted him push it back inside your mouth—but he had to end it there, right before he came inside your mouth. Slowly he guided you towards him; confused as to why he stopped you right before he was about to come, you moved back to his lap where he gently caressed you and wiped his fluids from your cheeks.
“Let me kiss you, my love.”
In a soft and gentle kiss, Zhongli captured your lips. You could feel it radiating with love and warmth as he slid his lips over yours, his tongue darting inside, as if trying to fill his senses of you and only you. You both kissed until your lips were swollen, until you felt him rub his shaft against you unconsciously, making you moan in the kiss.
“Z-Zhongli…” you gasped for air. “Are you…holding yourself back?”
With those amber eyes, he gazed at you seriously—all the while keeping your lips closed to his.
“Is it a sin to treasure you so much?”
His words caught you off guard, but eventually, you smiled. Zhongli never failed to express his love for you. He was gentle and kind, a good husband and an even better father. Brushing a few stray locks of hair from his sweat-riddled face, you kissed his forehead as a way to show how much you appreciated his thoughtfulness.
“Thank you for thinking about me, Zhongli,” you remarked, “But right now, I really want you to let loose and fill me up completely with you.”
With eyes blown wide, Zhongli felt himself twitch at your words—his arousal no longer hidden. Grabbing the back of your head, he then crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss lidden with passion and lust. He bit and licked on your lips while his hand groped your full breasts, pinching at your nipples to make you gasp against his lips.
“Then so be it,” he smirked. “I’ll make you completely mine.”
Guiding his shaft to your slick entrance, he pushed himself inside of you in one go—making you squeal at the sudden sensation of being penetrated. It took some time for you to accommodate his large cock, but eventually, your cunt was drenched so much that it hadn’t become much of an issue.
“Z-Zhongli…! Oh god—fuck! …s-so big…!”
You began riding him, moving up and down on his lap while Zhongli continued to make you feel good by playing with your breasts. You could feel his sharp claws make indentations on your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood, but it was a strange sensation which only heightened the pleasure of having his dragon cock thrusted inside of you.
“Hnnghh!! Y-YN…!” Zhongli winced at the sudden tightness, and began to distract himself from cumming by licking on your pert nipples until they were red and sensitive.
With pleasure attacking you from different parts, you could only mewl as Zhongli gradually turned you into a lewd mess as you felt him twitch inside of you. Soon enough, he’ll be cumming inside of you, and that would the first among many others for this entire week. If his first heat said anything, Zhongli wouldn’t stop mating with you until you were fertilized with his seed.
The thought did nothing but coax you to your climax. You could feel yourself tighten around him as he pounded into you mercilessly, your juices mixing together. Zhongli was also close. He was already extremely aroused, and it wouldn’t take long for him to climax.
“A-Ah—! YN….! L-love…I’m…I’m close…!”
He muttered with face flushed and breath ragged.
“Yes…! Oh god, yes…! P-Please, Zhongli…! Ah—! F-fill me…fill me up…!”
In just a few thrusts, the both of you came at the same time. He pushed deep inside of you and came; his warmth filling you up until he was spent. You were still shivering with pleasure when he pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue once again ravishing you with so much intensity that it could be argued that he made you come once again with just a kiss.
Reeling in from the afterglow, you could still feel him hot and hard inside of you, as his breathed hard against your neck. You were no different though—the way your mind was still covered with a haze of lust, or the way his cock inside of you felt so good as it hit a particularly good spot. The aphrodisiac you got from Dr. Baizhu seemed to be quite effective.
Removing yourself from his embrace, you staggered to stand up with your limp legs, but managed to crawl on fours right beside him.
Zhongli was both bewildered and disappointed to have your warm body away from him, but when you pushed your ass before him and gazed at him with sultry eyes, he felt his heart rate pick up the pace.
It was embarrassing to show your cunt dripping with your juices and his cum, but you didn’t really care much. You were too entrenched with arousal to feel embarrassment.
“Z-Zhongli…let’s…let’s do it again…?”
Grabbing your ass, he spread you out even more, and even slapped your butt lightly. Zhongli could definitely see his cum dripping out of you and promptly scooped it up with his finger and pushed it back inside of you.
“P-Please…! Zhongli…I—!”
He smirked. “Very well.”
Without warning, he slid himself back inside of you; making you bite back the remaining words. It felt incredible having him inside. It was hot, as if you were burned and electrified at the same time. Your mouth hardly had the time to close as he continued to piston in and out of you.
This time however, Zhongli began playing with your oversensitive clit, groaning loudly at how you tightened your walls around him. You squealed in delight as his cock hit a particularly good spot, making you cum sooner than expected.
“Oh…o-oh god! Z-Zhongli….! Zhongli…! A-ah…!”
Yet despite your premature climax, he continued on—thrusting inside of you and prolonging your orgasm. It was so good you could feel tears pooling the side of your eyes as he plowed your sensitive cunt.
“You came, didn’t you?” he asked, his lips once again on yours. “I’ll make you come again soon enough.”
True to his promised, Zhongli picked up his pace and fucked you as roughly as he could. You knew there will be bruises after this but the pleasure was greater than anything for you to care about. The way his cock just fills you up, hitting your g-spot over and over again relentlessly, or the way his groans just sends shivers down your spine.
“F-Fuck…! Fuck…!Z-Zhongli! I’m—! I’m gonna…!”
“Yes, love...! Haa….come for me…! I’ll fill you up with my seed…”
Once again, you came from the overstimulation—your arms failing as the pleasure was greater than anything you experienced so far.
“F-fuck…YN…a-ah—!”
With that, Zhongli suddenly bit your shoulder as he pumped more of his seed inside of you, which only overflowed from your hole. You mewled at the mixture of pain and pleasure, unable to distinguish the one from the other, but you knew it felt extremely good.
Zhongli was silent for a while as he lapped on the bitemarks he had made. He was glad that he hadn’t bit too hard, but for some reason, he also liked how you were marked as his.
“Allow me to take you to the bedroom,” he whispered to you as you nodded your head groggily. Sleep was beginning to approach you fast.
Unsheathing himself from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. But it was immediately remedied by the feeling of his warm body near you as he carried you to your shared bedroom. Slowly, he laid you down on the soft mattress and eventually joined you there, embracing you from the back.
“Let’s rest for now,” he muttered right before your eyelids fell heavy. “We’ll need it for later.”
And he was right.
For the next few days, the two of you tainted every room inside the house (well, except for Yuqing’s bedroom).
From the kitchen where Zhongli fucked you from behind, bending you on the counter as he emptied himself inside of you—to the bathroom where cleaning up turned into another round where he slowly entered you while underwater—or on the floor, which was only because you couldn’t reach the bed because he was too horny for his own good.
It was only then, as the both of you rested from the last round which took all night and early morning, that you realized how much time had passed.
“Mama! Papa! I’m back!”
Your eyes shot open, and glanced at Zhongli who was staring at you as well.
“Oh no.”
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summary: A bad day turns even worse when the couple get stuck in an elevator, but JJ is there for her the way she needs. Or, day eleven of ghostie's spooktober spectacular.
read here on ao3.
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“This is your fault.”
“This is so not my fault.”
“You asked for this to happen!”
JJ shot the girl a look, eyes narrowed and a look of frustration painted on his face. “Please, Kie, tell me how this is my fault.”
“You just had to go and say, ‘it’s not like we can get anymore late’” she grumbled in a horrible impression of his voice. “And now look! You’ve jinxed us!”
“Jinxed us?!” JJ spluttered incredulously.
“Jinxed us!” Kiara snapped back, furiously pressing random buttons along the elevator panel as if that would do anything to help.
“That’s not gonna do anything,” he supplied unhelpfully as he slumped back against the wall, admitting defeat fairly easily which only seemed to irritate her more.
“One of them has got to do something!” she argued back, eyebrows furrowed together with a slight crease forming between them.
“Maybe the big red one with EMERGENCY written underneath it.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, Jay.”
“Neither is your panic, Kie.”
The whole day had been disaster after disaster for the two of them, and the frustration was finally settled deep into her bones by this point. It had started with missing costumes and last-minute changes forced to be made after weeks of planning and hand crafting. Then quickly followed by car issues that JJ was adamant he could fix in five minutes but resulted in them waiting twenty minutes for a tow truck before they called a taxi.
And now they were stuck in the fucking elevator that was their last obstacle before they reached Sarah and John B’s apartment for their Halloween Bash.
Luck clearly wasn’t on their side and Kiara was just ready to throw down a rag and call it a day.
“Hey,” he murmured, this time a little softer and far more sincere as he reached to gently grip her arm and pull her away from the elevator control panel. “It’s fine, they got the distress signal. They’ll get us out soon.”
Kiara stared at the panel of lit up buttons as though they would suddenly change, that a quick and easy solution would appear just before her. She didn’t want to panic, of course she didn’t.
But she couldn’t help the growing nausea in the pit of her stomach.
“You’re not in the sewers anymore, Kie,” JJ spoke up again, closing the small distance between them as his hand slid down her arm to intertwine her fingers between his. “You’re okay. We’re okay. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
“I just don’t like it,” she whispered, barely audible but it made his heart clench nonetheless.
Despite constantly assuring the boys she was okay, Kiara had never truly been okay after the incident in the sewer. Small spaces become uncomfortable, the walls would start to feel like they were closing in on her if she was still for too long and she absolutely hated ever admitting any of it.
JJ knew. Of course he fucking knew because he knew her better than she knew herself, and it killed him a little inside to know there was nothing he could really do other than reassure her they were okay.
They weren’t trapped. They weren’t stuck. They were going to be okay.
“C’mere,” he murmured as he tugged her close, arms wrapping around her shoulders as she promptly nuzzled herself into the crook of his neck. Her makeup would be ruined and smudged over his costume, but neither of them cared.
“This stupid party better be worth it,” Kiara mumbled as she closed her eyes, pretending they weren’t trapped in a little metal box held by a few cables. She imagined they were in the living room of their shared apartment, swaying together aimlessly. A sweet, genuine memory to replace the horror of reality.
“I’ll make it worth your time, baby,” JJ teased lightly, only to squirm against her hold when she gently pinched his hip. “Aye, keep your hands to yourself, woman. Plenty of time later in the night for that.”
“You’re a dork.”
“That’s not gonna be changing anytime soon, Kie.”
“Good.”
Neither one of them felt the need to disturb the silence between them. They stood there, arms wrapped around each other and gently swaying in the spot as the elevator beeped once again, as it began to climb up the floors and eventually reach the number they needed.
Neither of them said anything as they made their way down the hallway to Sarah and John B’s place, loud bumping music already filtering through the closed door.
Nobody ever really questioned the soft imprint of makeup on JJ’s shoulder, or the smudged makeup along one side of her face. They were both sure people had their own creative ideas, made up their own conclusions on why the couple were late.
But it didn’t matter. Not to JJ and not to Kiara, and certainly not to anybody who really knew the story.
And certainly not half the party by the end of the night after their teasing but deadly stubborn back and forth on who’s fault their late appearance to the party was.
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#ghostie's spooktober spectacular#jiara#outer banks#jj maybank#kiara carrera#jiara fic#jiara fanfic#jiara fanfiction#outer banks fic#outer banks fanfic#outer banks fanfiction#obx fic#obx fanfic#obx fanfiction#my writing
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warmer than cuddles
w/c: 2.4k
warnings: may plays matchmaker and makes some suggestive jokes
prompt: you and peter get caught in the rain and have to share an umbrella
a/n: thank youuu to the angel who requested <3 swear this is my favorite trope to write hehe ☔️
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one of the many things you and peter have in common is being lazy. it’s sort of the basis of your friendship. you’re not the kids who drink or party or get in trouble. you play board games and eat pizza on his ripped up couch. the riskiest thing you’ve ever done is sneak into a movie.
peter was so paranoid you’d get caught, he couldn’t even pay attention. he kept whispering to you about paying the whole time. you had to drag him out by his hand after the movie ended. the next time you went to that theater, he bought an extra ticket to “make it even.”
that about put an end to your trying new things phase. you went right back to your comfy nights in pajamas. tackling each other for the remote, baking terrible cookies that you just throw out, sharing a blanket to stay warm. what also helps is that you cuddle under it.
all the fun you need is you, peter, and your love for doing nothing. may disagrees.
she’s always trying to get you two out of the apartment. in her words, it’s “unhealthy for developing teens to spend so much time cooped up inside.” peter once asked which mother’s facebook group she joined. you snickered at that. may gave you a warning look.
well, you don’t have a choice to stay in today. she’s kicking you and peter out because she has guests coming over.
“it’s girl’s night,” may tells the two of you with a satisfied smirk. she hangs her raincoat on the rack and comes into the living room. peter squints his eyes at her. “you have friends?” he sounds too surprised for your liking. you flick his arm hard enough to make him go “ouch!”
“peter, we only have, like, four friends. that’s counting ourselves,” you inform him with a laugh. peter drops his head onto your shoulder. “and i don’t need any of them but you,” he says sarcastically, rubbing his cheek on your sweatshirt. “aw, i know,” you coo and rest your head on his. may crosses her arms and shrugs.
“you should do a group play date with everyone! i haven’t heard from ned in a while,” she suggests, your eyes flicking over to peter. he’s biting back a grin. “play date?” you try to stifle a laugh when you ask. “you know what i mean. a hang out,” may nods at her better word choice. peter winces in protest.
“eh, ned will probably wanna go out somewhere. we don’t do that,” he tells may, like that’s a completely normal thing for a teenager to say. you raise a finger in agreement. she laughs in disbelief at you and peter. you’re splayed out on the couch, on a saturday, complaining about doing anything else.
“you two make me feel young.” may’s words are a joke, but her tone isn’t. “you are young, may,” you reassure her and smile a little. peter says nothing. his eyes become hooded as he settles into you more. “look at you two, like some old married couple,” may gestures to you from where she’s standing. she smiles this time.
peter’s face gets hot from the mention of you being a couple. your heart skips a couple of beats. you’re pretty sure he can tell from how close he is.
“do whatever you want, just not here,” she gets back to the real conversation. peter hides his entire face in your shoulder as a form of protest. you pat his back. “and not each other. unless you’re safe,” may adds. “may, please. no,” he groans out, positive he’s all red now. you blink at her in horror.
may knows what she’s doing. peter isn’t the most subtle person, especially not about liking someone. she’s learned all the signs that her nephew is falling. he’s falling for you. she sees it in you, too. the way your eyes soften when they meet peter’s, how fast you are to hug him back or beam at the silly things he says.
you two spend so much time apart from your other friends, you basically are a couple. you’re just not old or married. the only thing you need is a push to realize that.
“ok, we’re gonna go now,” peter decides and pulls away from you. “god bless,” you say only so he can hear. he chuckles at that, you getting up from the couch. giving him a knowing smile, you grab one of his hands. he lets you pull him to his feet while exhaling. he’s already exhausted. may watches and shakes her head.
peter walks up to give her a quick hug. “enjoy girl’s night. love you,” he murmurs as she squeezes him tight. even though they tease each other a lot, their relationship is really sweet. it’s very telling how a guy treats his mother. well, aunt in this case. that thought has always been in the back of your mind.
“have fun!” you grin at may when her and peter pull apart. he comes back over to you and tugs on your sleeve. “thanks, kids. we’ll be done around eleven,” she lets you know. you’re already getting your shoes on and ready to leave. eleven is a while from now.
“don’t forget an umbrella! it’s drizzling!” may calls after you two. peter grabs hers that’s leaning against the front door. it’s pink with purple polka dots. you giggle at that. “hey, i like pink,” he defends himself and opens the door, letting you out first. you raise your hands in defense, leaving the apartment.
peter waves at may one last time. “good luck, peter,” she tells him once you reach the stairs. he furrows both eyebrows. “good luck with what?” “you’ll see,” may raises her own eyebrows in a way that’s all too familiar to peter. he calls it her face of wisdom.
still confused, peter heads out. he finds you at the bottom of the stairs. you shove your hands in your pockets and push against the door to open it. peter meets you outside, twirling the umbrella between his fingers.
“is there anywhere you wanna go?” he asks as you start to walk. you’re just going down the block for now. “back upstairs,” you sigh out. “i wish. not an option, though,” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. you fumble to pull up your hood. he easily reaches over and does it for you.
“thanks,” you say quietly. “you’re welcome,” peter pats the top of your head for emphasis. “we could just walk around.” “until eleven o’clock? that’s five hours from now,” you laugh out, adjusting your hoodie to block your face. disappointment crosses over his features.
“should’ve brought my suit,” he mutters mostly to himself. linking your arm with his, your eyes widen. “i’m not trusting you to swing me around in this weather.” his bicep flexes when your arm wraps around his own. “what? i’ve done it before, y/n/n. on patrol.” you turn your head towards him.
“didn’t you get hurt last time?” you already know the answer. “sprained wrist and a few cuts,” he grumbles, you humming because you’re right. he’d called you in tears when he got home, scared he broke something. you reminded him he would heal soon and stayed on the phone until he calmed down.
that ended up being the whole night. you’re probably the most supportive of peter being spider-man. you of course worry about the toll it takes, but you understand why he does it. the least you can do is be there for him while he navigates the superhero world. not talk him out of it or scold him for making mistakes, be there.
that’s why he loves his lazy days with you so much. they’re his break, his escape from what he lies awake worrying about most nights. you’ve seen what he has to go through, so you respect that. whatever he needs to do to unwind is fine by you. as long as you get to do it with him.
“then you couldn’t patrol for weeks. you could barely hold a pencil.” your other arm sneaks around his. they’re both hugging him now. “you had to be my note taker,” peter reminisces, a smile making its way onto his face. “that sucked, man. you’re such a perfectionist about them,” you breathe out.
peter flips the umbrella around in a show-off kind of way. “you don’t complain when i send them to you.” he sounds so cocky you can’t help but roll your eyes. he isn’t wrong, though. “whatever. seriously, where should we go?” “uh,” peter’s eyes scan the block for inspiration. they land on a man carrying takeout.
“dinner? not at a restaurant since we’re in sweats,” he adds the last part so you don’t have to. “ooh, let’s go to panera,” you happily squeeze his arm. peter quirks an eyebrow at you. “you’re always hungry after.” “so? we can get dessert, too. we have a while.” that makes his heart flutter. a while with you.
“cool, cool, cool,” he sings to you, leaning into your side as you walk. you giggle and push at his shoulder. “i think we can make it there before the rain picks up.” there’s a clap of thunder right after he says that, like something out of a movie. it’s followed by a heavier rain coming down on you two. you pull at the strings of your hoodie to keep it tighter on your head.
“jinxed it,” you remark, both of you stopping so peter can open the umbrella. “ugh,” he grunts out. his lower lip is between his teeth while he undoes the velcro. he pushes down and watches as the umbrella springs open for you two. “here, c’mere,” peter welcomes you under as he holds it above your heads.
it doesn’t quite fit you both since it’s only meant for one person. you forgot he took may’s. the two of you have to squish together so you can avoid the rain, which is pitter pattering down hard on the sidewalk.
you’re comfortable under here with him. the freezing cold weather outside of the umbrella is hardly an issue anymore.
peter turns to face you, letting out a breathless laugh. “you can take off your hood now.” your arms slip from around his. you remove it from your head and give him a toothy grin. it’s one that’s meant to be over exaggerated. “there’s that pretty face,” peter’s voice gets quieter. unlike what you did, that wasn’t a joke.
your pretty face loses its smile. you’re suddenly very aware of how close peter is to you.
you can see the faint scar on his chin from when he banged it into a wall in your living room. he’d ran straight into it during your two person game of hide and seek. yes, you still play that. it was gushing blood for half an hour.
there are also the thousands of freckles dotting his face, the ones you only notice by looking at him super hard. you try to count them whenever you get bored. peter stares back at you while you fall in love with every tiny detail about him.
he takes the time to admire your lips, not just because they look really kissable right now. because of every curious expression they press into when he does something you can’t believe. your eyes, that he feels a sense of safety and honesty and familiarity every time he looks into. he finds them and feels like he’s home.
“peter?” you speak up after a few moments. your tone is hesitant, as if whatever you’re going to ask will change what you have forever. that’s because it might. it’s silent except for the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. peter finally answers, almost in a whisper. “yeah?”
“i... i think,” you clear your throat before going on. his eyes trail down to your lips again, then back up to your twinkling ones. even on a gloomy day like this, they could light up the whole sky. “i think i love you,” you get out, a hand over your racing heart. peter gives you a small but sure nod. “i think i love you, too.”
he takes a step closer to you, if that’s even possible. his hand without the umbrella comes up to hold your cheek. you watch as he uses his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain droplets. your head tilts to the side, lips parted on instinct. peter leans in until his lips just brush yours, letting you decide what comes next.
you choose to close the space between you two. his eyes squeeze shut, whole face scrunched up when he kisses back. this is a release of all the emotions he’s been holding in that he didn’t even realize he had. you slip into a rhythm, using the angle to move your lips against peter’s.
his hand drops from your cheek to your jaw to support you while you kiss. your own hands grab his biceps, fingers pressing into him, depesrate to have him in your arms. peter lets out a content sigh against your lips before detaching them. it’s not for long. he comes right back in after taking a breath.
you get one long peck from him, then another that’s softer than the last. you give him a short kiss back, lips curving into a smile when this one ends. peter’s thumb smooths over your jawline while he searches for your eyes. he grins at you and tightens his grip on the umbrella handle. he’s surprised it didn’t blow away in the midst of your mini makeout.
“i definitely love you, peter,” you state so genuinely, hands on his shoulders now. that has to be peter’s favorite sentence he’s ever heard. the most beautiful combination of words, said by you to him. “i definitely love you, y/n,” peter agrees, punctuating his statement with one last kiss. you haven’t stopped smiling when his lips meet the corner of yours.
may was right about two things that night. you needed the umbrella for that huge storm, but it did more than protect your from the rain. it also brought you and peter together in a way. the second thing she was right about was that peter loves you, and every feeling he has mirror yours for him.
actually, she was right about three things. you two have to get out of the apartment more often.
#tom holland#peter parker#tom holland fluff#marvel#peter parker fluff#spiderman#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#peter parker smut#peter parker fanfiction#tom holland smut#tom holland imagine#tom holland x you#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x reader
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There's something about Manager Kim part 19
What up big boy
One normal conversation took days to complete.
She wasn't answering him anymore. The first few days she'd replied back that she was staying in the office late, and other days he was lucky if she even took a look at his messages.
He'd look around the lonely house, pray for her well-being wherever she was, before getting into a cold bed at night surrounded by shadows and memories of things that no longer were able to bring him comfort.
Yoongi would never openly admit to the others that he would leave her a recorded message about his day and send it, and by the morning he waited for a reply that never came.
If Jin mentioned what she was up to, it was usually the usual line. "She's been in and about. Sometimes I don't even hear from her. Which I don't like, but after a day or so she usually calls. It's usually rubbish reception though."
Yoongi was just relieved she was okay. If there was a documentary about his life, around now he would look it dead in the lens and say,
"Hi, I'm Yoongi. You're probably wondering how I ended up like this. Spilling champagne down my thousand dollar silk shirt in front of the whole world."
**
Often Yoongi would busy himself with work and there was always so much studio stuff, that he didn't have to look far. Other times he would slowly fill his house with the furniture or an object that he thought YN would like, or he'd stare endlessly at a quickly written message on a post it by her, still stuck to the fridge.
He'd brought one of those tiny printers you connected to your phone and printed out this one picture of her when she was lying there thinking; the dusk streamed in through their bedroom window and everything was still, it was perfect, it was theirs.
She'd dragged a small coffee table to the glass window, parked a little chic lamp on it, switched the lights out and simply stared out the window, settling her breathing. It must have been a little after eleven when he'd made it home; he remembered working late with Hobi on one of his tracks for Jack in The Box and had forgotten to let her know here he was.
There had been a power cut, she had only settled in a week prior, and she was too scared to travel down to the garage to check where the fuse box was.
He'd found her asleep, the phone torch as she had clutched it for dear life.
**
"Hey," Taehyung patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "Where you zone out to?" he smiled watching Yoongi getting off Taehyung's bed and head to his own room.
"Nowhere," Yoongi swallowed. "I'm gonna head to sleep. That flight was dreadful," he lied.
"Night hyung," Taehyung waved, as he closed the door behind him, walking slowly to the elevator and then back to his empty room.
The silence was all consuming, confining and deafening. Yoongi grew tired of the waiting, anticipation and then the anti climax when he never heard from her or her phone rang out long distance. He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed at the possibility of her leaving for the States or simply not telling him that she had intended to.
Yoongi tried looking for YN, chastised Jin about it so many times, eventually deciding that he didn't know anything, because he didn't.
"Yoongi-ah, I'm telling the truth, I haven't heard from her."
"Do you know if anybody else has?"
"I don't know maybe she has spoken with the others? She has got lots of friends I'm sorry I just don't know, you know YN. She has been pulling out the stops to become VP. I can't get anything out of her secretary, he keeps the cards close to his chest."
Who could he talk to? Who besides her understood the expectations of others, mirroring those thrown upon him by himself as an artist?
Who besides YN got that it angered him when people don’t meet those expectations, and absolutely devastated him when he couldn't reach them himself?
Maybe it was a hint he failed to take?
Maybe what they had was fake, the words, their actions were due to their situation, or perhaps she didn't care for him how he now cared for her.
He looked across at the empty space next to him at night, imagining her lying there smiling back at him. Yoongi laid there, often talking to himself. He knew what she would say to him if she was there, but man he wished she was there to say it.
"Jeez Suga, must be exhausting trying to be a perfect producer all the time," her teasing voice would tell him. "If you wanna sleep at the studio don't let me stop you. Stop making so much noise when you get back."
He'd smiled in the dark, turning to face her.
"I'll make you coffee in the morning," he'd offered.
"I accept your compensation, but don't think just cos you make me coffee I accept this behaviour. Chairman Bang—"
"Min," he corrected her.
She sighed and gave in quickly due to her brain being half asleep at three on the morning, "Bang-Min," she conceded, "cannot be bribed. I have a public image to uphold. However," she explained to the ceiling as he turned his pillow over again.
"Are you listening?" she scolded. "You woke me up and now you're trying to sleep. The cheek!"
"Princess, I'm fucking tired. Next time I'll just sleep at the studio okay?"
Now she felt bad. "You don't have to, then the house will be," she paused thinking of the best word, "empty."
"I'll message next time. If you let me go to sleep, I'll make you the good coffee even," he begged.
"The drip coffee??" she asked excited. "Because you need to be specific when you talk coffee."
Coffee - most people were made of 60% water, but he was sure she was made up of 50% coffee and equal measures of sass.
"The expensive shit," it was fun to see her all awake and asking him questions.
"Clarification requested."
"Denied."
She sat up, "Monkey Min, you cannot end a conversation on coffee with 'The Expensive Shit'."
Yoongi yawned loudly as she shook him until he could no longer ignore her.
"Fine, fine. The Hawaiian one I saw in the cupboard." He dare not admit to her that he couldn't read English well, but had recognised the words Hawaiian and Coffee.
Yoongi was sure she squealed. Her fingers were wiggling in the dark as she tried to hide it and sound unaffected.
"I ran out of Hawaiian Kona Coffee. Approximately two weeks and four days ago though.."
"Did we? I thought I bought some more..." he teased her before admitting he had finally found a small bespoke coffee place miles away and bought their remaining supply.
"I'm so exited I can't sleep!"
Yoongi whacked her hard with a pillow, almost beheading her.
"Shut up and sleep. Or I won't make it for you in the morning."
YN lay back on her side of the bed. She turned to face him to ask one last question but he knew she just had to say one last thing: She never could let him have the last word.
"Princess. Shut the hell up before I put something in your mouth to make you."
She rolled her eyes. Of course he would still be able to produce a dick joke at 3am.
"You are just gross."
**
"Just come back," he sighed, staring a hole into the spotlight above him.
See in his mind, they were perfect for eachother; he was an insanely humble guy who can’t remotely begin to navigate a common social situation, and YN; a sarcastic girl who devotes all her time to protecting others, but won’t confront issues in her own personal relationships.
In his case, his extreme sensitivity could make him feel good about the aspects of himself that he somehow knew are good; his ability to sketch a decent picture, produce a hit song, or the ability to love this prickly and beautiful human being.
But it also caused deep seated hatred of those traits he happened to loathe; not being able to help her if she needed him, bottling up his feelings, or the inability to say what he wanted to say. But she had this way of shining light through his darkest points and muscling her way into his life.
Needless to say, every day melted into the next until it was all one big blur, and after three weeks he heard nothing from her. Yoongi began leaving his phone away from him, not looking at it five thousand times a day. He also tried to not reread messages, or gaze at her pictures either. It was just too painful. The phase only ever lasted a few hours and then he was back to pining for her.
*
Head under the power shower, Yoongi stood, hand against the cold wall tiles as the 38°C temperature pummeled down his back, splashing against the fogged up shower screen. Gentle jazz music from his speaker resonated loud enough to drown out his own sighing. Which he did daily. A lot.
It was also too loud to hear a certain wife trying to call him for the first time in a long time.
Tucking a towel around his low slung waist, forgetting about his phone and now turning on the TV, Yoongi pulled out his clothes for the day, his hand wavered as he touched an item of her clothing.
It was technically his, a woolly cardigan she had adopted as her own, and even after this long it still held her scent. Albeit, barely but it was there. Hints of soft femininity, of jasmine lingered upon him as he held it closer for a quick deep breath before carefully placing it back on a hanger.
Sometimes it was hard to have enough courage to deal with any situation. He knew she wouldn't sit tight for long, and would be out there saving the world in one way or another; or having men drop at her feet, or maybe her mother had finally convinced her to divorce him; but that came with a price and he was worried that something had happened to her.
If it has would anyone know to tell him? What if she was trying to get home to him and she was trapped, or being tortured somewhere? How would he find her?
Contact between them had slowed down to a silent halt, and when contact had become next to impossible due to incessant signal failures or time differences etc all he could do was wait and hope.
Whilst other people were able to garner a regular relationship, Yoongi simply hoped for meeting YN just once or even just speaking to her. That feeling of desperation to just see her was killing him but he knew he had to trust her on this. He often fantasized, and fell into the same daydream again about the moment he would set eyes on her after that long difficult wait. In his dreams he imagined getting all teary eyed and hugging her so tight to never let her go, and then carrying her off to bed to fuck her seven ways to Sunday till neither of them could walk.
But not all his thoughts were on physicality. There were other times where even whilst he rested with everyone else, he felt alone and disheartened. He tried to remain positive, and found himself often forcing himself to smile for the sake of it, sweep his thoughts under the rug and just get on with life. He clutched her cardigan to him and fell asleep.
**
The boys started their first full day in Paris, on the rooftop restaurant, overlooking the Eiffel Tower enjoying breakfast before a spot of sight seeing before the fashion show that afternoon.
Jin could tell straight away that Yoongi was agitated so he limited conversation knowing that's what happened when Yoongi was like this. It was rare but the man was still human, and whatever he was going through after YN left couldn't have been easy.
He had tried talking to him, but after a while Yoongi slowly returned to normal and Jin thought he was coping OK. But this morning was not one of these mornings.
"You cool Yoongi-ah?" Jin stopped stuffing his face and took a sip of coffee slowly instead.
"I'm fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?" he snapped.
"Yeah, you definitely sound happy," he replied sarcastically looking at him sideways.
"Why keep longing for something that clearly isn't going to happen?" Yoongi sighed a little too deeply.
Jin didn't know what to say to that. "You don't know that. You guys have been through some shit and she's away doing some work and then she'll be back."
"She could have done that here. I wasn't going to stop her from doing whatever she needs, I would have tried to help her."
"Maybe what she had to do you couldn't help her with. I dunno, maybe it was CEO type stuff??" Jin replied as Yoongi's phone continued to ring.
"Your phone's ringing dude."
"Doesn't matter," he dismissed as he got ready to leave.
"Well whoever it is, is definitely tryna get hold of you bro." Jin tried to get the attention of a waiter for more coffee.
The crackly line evened out as YN hunched down to buckle a shoe.
"Miserable Min," she called out as he replied with a hello, out came a voice so clear for once that she almost kissed her new phone for finally making a phone call that didn't cut out after one ring.
She'd tried in vain to call him so many times in the last week or so, and today it cut off due to the fact she was standing near the top of the Eiffel Tower in a tight dress and a pair of heels for Vogue Paris.
"You okay handsome? I'll see ya soon!"
It was the first thing that came out her mouth before hello, how are you, how have you been, are you sure you've been punished enough, Jin told me you've turned into a recluse?
It was the only statement she made and then the call cut off.
"YN? Is that you? YN? Are you okay? It's me, Min Yoo—?!" he dumbly shouted back but it was too late.
YN stared at her phone in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she swore at the phone as secretary Kim came running over.
"Ma'am?"
YN handed the phone over to him in disgust, "I paid a thousand bucks for this phone, so it could simply cut out on me before I had the chance to annoy him! Now he thinks I think he's handsome!"
"But I thought they were all handsome, one might argue that they are all visuals," he countered.
"You need to stop reading internet articles, they usually chat shit Kim. And I was gonna tell him I'll be back in the country in the next coupla days."
"Shall I call him back? I must admit the reception is unsatisfactory, especially as the Eiffel Tower could be used as a cell tower."
"We got no time. After this, we need to go to the show for a run through. Never mind, I'll just call them after the show. Did they get the tickets?"
"Yes. Celine arranged for them to be here. But I don't know how many will be coming. I didn't get the opportunity to advise them of your presence. I forgot to tell —"
With no time to scold him for his miniscule hic up, YN waved the possible time bomb away, flicked her hair and went back to the shoot.
"I forgot to tell you, Mr Min would be here.. Maybe it's a good thing though," he told himself. "These two can finally sort things out."
Beyond pissed that he hasn't been able to tell her anything except his name Yoongi felt the world was magically made of candy canes and rainbows hearing her voice.
The entire world be damned, heck, let the world go to hell, she had called him and Yoongi had heard her words!
Jin was almost at the lift when he felt a flash of wind upside his neck and the words "move over" came blasting past him.
Yoongi was up to his room, smiling as he pulled out his clothes, grinning as he showered and so ecstatic that he kept forgetting to breathe. Coughing and spluttering he went through his day in a haze.
She was coming home. And she called to tell him he was handsome. It meant she was alive. And thinking of him.
"Keep holding on" was the right phrase to describe that ever persistent feeling he held back. "She's coming home."
Celine Runway 5pm
"It's a bit loud isn't it?" Yoongi called out to Jin again. Nothing. It didn't even register with his friend.
"It's a fashion show, it's not like they're going to come out with no music on."
"It's not a concert, it doesn't have to be so loud! They're just walking literally in a straight line, ai don't understand the fascination."
"Well YN got us these invites, so if you can't say anything nice, just shut up and sit there," Jin snapped. "Put a damn smile on your face; there's cameras everywhere."
"It's OK," Taehyung clapped excitedly, "I managed to get hold of YN. That bad bitch is here!"
"In Paris?" Yoongi nearly choked.
"At the show!" Taehyung corrected him, as Yoongi craned his neck looking around the crowds.
"She is!?" he all but screamed as he was forced to sit still and watch several models walk out parading the new Summer Autumn collection.
Not that Yoongi cared. This was the last place he expected to be, and it was the last place on earth YN would ever think she would clap eyes on Min Yoongi.
As the guest model for today's show, no one was more shocked that Yoongi to see a woman stalk down the run way, in a glittering dress that followed for some distance, a twinkle in her eyes her snappy heels clickity clacking down the way.
Yoongi had heard that walk before. People would think he was crazy, but it was like explaining to someone that you could figure out who was running down your home's stairs by listening to the sound of their footsteps.
And he could definitely tell when the sassiest woman to ever exist snapped her heels right past him.
"I've been trying to call you pabos for ages," an excited voice said as it stopped by them.
Yoongi looked up from his champagne flute, the shock of it all making him spray the contents of it all down his top, narrowly missing those surrounding him.
"YN?" he choked out, she looked, well like YN but not as he knew or saw her. She looked like a damn hot super model.
"Hey big boy. Miss me?" she turned to meet his gaze, gave a wink before turning at a sharp angle and walking back to the curtains.
#bts jin#bts yoongi#bts min yoongi#bts taehyung#bts namjoon#bts jimin#bts min suga#yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader#bts yoongi x yn#suga x yn#bts imagines#bts jhope#bts smau#bts social media au#suga imagines#enemies to lovers#bts jungkook#min suga#suga#agust d#min yoongi#yoongi smut
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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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