#again. hate it when the person indifferent to the other starts chasing them bc of a change in personality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 2 years

Text

oh thank god i didn’t have to wait until 8p

okay, here’s your 11b season premiere review. heavy spoilers under the cut, obviously, and as always, it is a stream of consciousness mess of unedited thoughts that is up to you to untangle. have fun:

i already know i’m going to get scenes out of order but i can only be the person that i am, sorry in advance

but anyway, our story starts off with our special effects crew having way too much fun in the CGI room making walkers explode. it’s like a rly rly rly grim fourth of july fireworks display

oh, and maggie is being chased by a reaper whose name i have already forgotten

carter? does that sound right?

who knows, but basically she gets away, she and negan meet back up, and go and hide, and negan, as he has literally since the start of this mission, is like “can we please, for the love of christ, go tf home?”

and maggie is like “nope, still got Mission(tm) left to complete!”

TITLES!

pop over to alexandria real fast where judith and gracie are having the world’s worst pool party, and lydia, rosita, and that one chick who still wears the stupid kingdom outfit finally notice that they’re missing, but they’re busy trying to keep a horde of walkers from messing up the upstairs, so everyone’s in a bit of a bind

jump cut to daryl fighting some dude in what appears to be a classroom of some sort. they tussle, as boys do, and then daryl stabs him in the gut, and the guy looks SO offended. like “what?? how could you??” like. bruh. that was the whole point here

while daryl is busy suffocating the offended guy to death, leah knocks on the door and is like “[name i’ve also forgotten], are you in there?” (cue daryl strangling the dude a little faster)

daryl bounces just as leah breaks in and sees her dead buddy on the ground. she kneels at his side and says sorrowfully, “no more”

she is not correct

moving on!

i thiiiink it was gabriel’s scene next?

i don’t know for sure, but also i want to talk about it so i don’t care, let’s get into it

gabriel bursts into a room where that creeply reaper priest happens to be (convenient, mb it was god’s divine intervention and/or the screenwriters)

creepy reaper priest is like, “aww, bud, you aren’t gonna kill me. god told me!” to which gabriel is very hilariously like, “um exCUSE ME? god talks to YOU? you’re not even cute, why would god want to talk to a basic bitch like YOU?”

or something, i may be paraphrasing, but you get the gist

anyway, creepy reaper priest tells gabriel that he’s doing god’s mission, and he thinks the reapers are all swell dudes, and he knows for a fact that gabriel won’t kill him or anyone else, bc The Lord won’t allow it”

this is when gabriel and i had a little side conversation

now, gabe and i have not always gotten along. i HATED that motherfucker for at least a solid three seasons, and then fell into a moderate indifference, with vague disgust that the writers thought he deserved someone as hot and badass as rosita

but i told gabe. i told him, “if you just kill this fucker right now, i will let you keep having sex with rosita and only be slightly disgusted by it”

and for a second there

just one fleeting moment

there was doubt

and then yeah, he just fucking stabbed the creepy reaper priest in the gut and was like “GUESS GOD’S PHONE LINE JUST OPENED UP, HOE!”

again, paraphrasing

jump back over to alexandria, or maybe this was before gabriel’s scene, who cares, time is a lie, but a-a-ron, carol, connnie, kelly, jerry, and i think magna are in the barn trying to figure out how to make the windmill stop being on fire so the entire town doesn’t get irreparably destroyed, when a-a-ron hears gracie’s Panic Whistle and kicks into Dad Mode and rushes off to the rescue, telling the others to, “idk man, figure it out!”

back at the world’s worst pool party, gracie and judith are not doing great, but a-a-ron jumps in and saves them both by hoisting them up and out the window, like the mfing boss that he is

but that leaves no one to hoist a-a-ron, so suddenly he’s the only girl left at the party, whuh oh

not for long tho! bc soon a shitton of walkers join him!

it was actually very stressful and much better cinematography than the CGI trigger happy dudes at the beginning

i definitely got my scenes mixed up bc this happened in jump cuts, but to finish it out, a-a-ron climbs to the ceiling and clings to it, and then lydia shows up and is like “dude wtf??” and helps him out

huzzah! a-a-ron lives to be a wholesome badass another day

also ig the windmill stopped being on fire? idk i wasn’t paying close enough attention

back in reaperville, maggie, negan, and elijah are fighting maybe-carter in a hallway. it’s a close fight, but they get the upper hand bc negan found a giant bell and knocked the dude out with it

sure

maggie’s about to kill the dude, but daryl shows up and is like “no wait!” and they’re all like “no, this dude’s trash, why would we save him??” and daryl’s like ‘hostage time!”

so they rendezvous with leah, mb-carter all tied up, and daryl has yet another fruitless attempt at telling a rly angry woman to let bygones be bygones and mb no one else has to die

leah isn’t having it

she has a sniper try and take them out, except...wait a minute...that’s not a reaper at the sniper...is that...?

GABRIEL CONTINUES TO BRING THE HEAT THIS EPISODE!

i was proud of him!

negan was also delighted

leah has no choice but to relent and agree to daryl’s terms, which were that he’d let them all go as long as they never crossed paths again

they start to leave

except daryl made a crucial mistake, which is that maggie is a rly angry woman with a high kill count who is on a huge revenge streak rn, and honestly idk how daryl could forget this after spending two seasons chasing carol around begging her to stop torturing people in the basement and blowing up caves, but i digress

point is, maggie kills everyone but leah

she gets her in the shoulder, and daryl goes after her, but not for any romantic reason. she’s hiding and he’s basically like, “this was fucking stupid. go away or i’ll kill you,” and then he returns to the group

lol, i was just thinking “what happened after that,” but HOW COULD I FORGET??

maggie goes back to the church! to look for skyrim npc alden!

bad news tho!

skrym npc alden is now skryim dead-pc alden

maggie sobs while holding his dead walker corpse. presumably out of joy

also yada yada negan shows up while she’s burying alden and tells her “you murdered all those people out of revenge, and like, you don’t suuuper like me, so i’m not feeling like this is really such a safe place anymore for me to live my truth, so i’m gonna bounce”

so ig negan’s gone off on an adventure

here’s hoping we don’t have ANOTHER negan bottle episode

mb he and leah will go shack up and he’ll give her the many venereal diseases i’m sure he contracted from alpha

ok recap is getting long, highlights:

gabe and daryl talk faith. it’s fine

daryl gets dog back. good!

carol and jerry are waiting at the tower at alexandria when they return, and they’re kind of like “yay, but also like...didn’t you guys leave with like fifty other people, why are there only four of you?”

daryl goes on a hug fest with the kiddos, carol, and connie

for those of you who are concerned for whatever reason, the hug was exactly what you would expect two good friends to share after one friend thought the other one died in a terrifying cave explosion

for ppl who want to do a little bit of analyzing that may be on the cusp of taking things too seriously, it is worth at least noting that they cut to carol’s expression right after the hug, and carol is explicitly in the frame when daryl is talking to connie

do with that what you will

OKAY MAGGIE BACKSTORY FUCKING OVER THANK GOD

TIME FOR THE FUN SHIT!!!

stormtroopers show up at alexandria, accompanied by eugene

eugene does a nice little introductory speech for lance, who steps up in his nice fancy suit and is like “good evening ladies and gentlemen, have i got a wonderful opportunity for you!”

then it literally cuts to carol, daryl and maggie standing there with identical :\ expressions. beautiful. exactly the dynamic i was hoping for

it then jump cuts to six months later, where we see maggie at hilltop facing off with Stormtrooper Daryl, which, as you know, is the daryl that lives rent free in my brain at all times now

this isn’t a permanent time jump, we’re going to see what happens in between obvi, but we got a fun li’l teaser

they also had the trailer for next episode, and BRUH. FINALLY. FUCKING. COMMONWEALTH. IS. THE. HOT. TOPIC.

that single teaser trailer gave me more serotonin than the entirety of the reaper arc

it also starts off with caryl talking, so yes, our babes are getting back together and are going to be exploring this strange new world together, and i hope that it is MISERABLE for them there

and what if they have scenes with princess??

am i...excited?

am i...looking forward to a walking dead arc for more than just caryl?

see, that’s why i stan kang. if she can make commonwealth as good as she made the whisperers and have me be invested for more than just whether or not daryl and carol are fucking then i know she must know what she’s doing

not to say that my main focus isn’t daryl and carol fucking

which i hope they do

after they dismantle capitalism

whew buddy, i am hype

i should probably be less hype, just in case it’s terrible, but at the very least i know i get to see princess again soon and carol in that hot flannel, and those two things alone are enough to sustain me for quite a while

last thing i’ll say is that in the little post-episode thing with kang, she literally didn’t even MENTION leah and daryl’s relationship

didn’t come up for a second

and she is clearly so much more interested in commonwealth. i genuinely think she’s over the reapers too, bc what they have set up for commonwealth is going to be fun as hell

at least here’s hoping

god this is so long, my laptop battery is almost dead and i need to go put shelter laundry in the dryer, what am i doing with my gd life

sign-off time

stay hype, stan kang, and get daryl to go down on carol for five hours straight 2k22,

-diz

#caryl #twd #twd s11 spoilers #dunlap tp

58 notes · View notes

vanderlindemorgans · 3 years

Text

Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know.

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way.

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul.

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all.

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone.

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss.

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it.

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you.

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore.

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known.

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you.

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual.

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you.

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this.

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”.

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this.

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense.

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly. “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”.

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him.

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”.

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth.

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place.

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all.

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”.

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty.

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”.

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore.

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to.

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be.

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time.

Permanent tag list (if you wanna be added shoot me a message):

@greeneyedblondie44

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader

167 notes · View notes

seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @/seijorhi & massive, big fat ty to @/xplosiveboy

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

part 2 coming soon

22 notes · View notes

palukoo · 3 years

Note

andy, toby, and cj!!

thank you!! i always reblog these forgetting I can't pick favorites to save my life but! I will try!!

Andy

First impression: god i love her

Impression now: god i love her (but now with more depth!)

Favorite moment: see this is the favorites thing... remarkably hard considering how little she's there. I have to go with "the good people of Maryland. MARYLAND!" but really anything she does in that ep (esp the "you know i'm gonna get sued" conversation) or... in general... is great

Idea for a story: oh boy... well i AM going to write the long cj/andy fic at some point! hm. let's get specific... @otzi this is for you... cj, andy, and toby at a cher concert.

Unpopular opinion: are there popular opinions about andy? hmm, i guess maybe that i don't really blame her for the "you're just sad, toby" conversation because it is like. rude, obviously, and all that, but i think it's hard for me to begrudge her after he says he thought she was just being cute when saying she didn't want to marry him again. i think mostly though i just... think more about andy than the average tww viewer.

Favorite relationship: cj/andy! also cj/andy/toby or andy&toby bc yeah! but i also have to shout out donna&andy bc I want it so badly

Favorite headcanon: hmmm i have a lot, really. i mean, like, that she isn't straight... that she's one of the most liberal members of congress, probably. that she's also half jewish. that she's always wanted kids. that she struggles with like survivor's guilt after gaza... idk!

Toby

First impression: I honestly don't know but I didn't like Toby as much on my first watch as I do now bc I thought he was condescending and I'm right but like. They all are, kinda

Impression now: i love him! he's very funny and i love his dynamics with everyone and i go a little crazy thinking about him never working on winning campaigns and writing for rafferty and being so cynical but so idealistic at the same time. he still has written by a man disease (honestly. sorkin deserves his own subtype) but i love him!

Favorite moment: fuck! uh. um. hmm. okay obviously the "your father used to hit you" is a good scene and so is like. the better angels line... toby gets a lot of really good lines damn! i might just have to go with in excelsis deo as a whole though because it just shows him as a really good person, and it's bonkers to me with the context from later seasons that. he spends his entire birthday trying to track down next of kin for the dead homeless vet. idk. toby really gets a lot of sorkin's idealism dialogue which can be very lovely... but i think a lot of other moments i'd pick for him would be a lot more about his relationships with other characters bc. that is how i consume media

Idea for a story: honestly, while i love him, it's hard for me to think of doing like. a toby centric story. he definitely fits into a lot of my cj/andy(/toby) stuff obviously, but i tend to more cj centric... hmm. perhaps the post post canon toby & amy fic of my dreams where she writes a book that he critiques endlessly and they run someone's (probably rafferty's) campaign together

Unpopular opinion: i... don't hate his s7 plot? i totally, 100% get why people do, especially going back and watching s1, because his whole thing is loyalty and that jed is his guy and all that, but he also argues with jed over calls all the time, and i think... hm. the late seasons kind of break all the characters? and i get why people don't like that obviously, but i think it's just about pushing them to a point where there going to act differently than we expect them to (cj keeping will and toby out of the loop like she would've complained about and having to become much more pragmatic, josh leaving, donna leaving, toby committing treason, jed sort of losing power, etc...), and it's interesting development and it's weirdly something i accept at face value rather than push back against?

Favorite relationship: romantic? idk, i like cj/andy/toby and i like josh/toby too. friendship? everyone lmao. i really really love cj&toby and josh&toby and toby&sam and you get the point. tww is a family it's hard to individualize

Favorite headcanon: like i am obsessed with bi toby. idk, like. bc of what i want to write about, i sorta think of his relationship to the concept of family a fair amount... and then like this isn't even headcanon but there's a richard schiff interview somewhere where he says "his desire to cut people down is minimal. It's something he could do in his sleep, and it's not the point." and i just think about that so much.

First impression: wow!!!! wow!!! holy shit!!! i love her!!!

Impression now: all of that still and i would very very much like to hug her and want her to be happy and god she is so so good i lose my mind. i stay up at night thinking about her.

Favorite moment: there's too many!! cj has so many funny moments that i adore and they're a huge part of what makes me love her but i also love her heavier things. i love her trying to leak the story about the gay kid's dad in season one to danny. i LOVE her trying to quit until jed asks her to stay. i love her laughing and saying "the fall's gonna kill you" and i love her crying alone as she walks around new york and hallelujah plays. i love (maybe, it's complicated) her and donna in no exit. i love her when she starts as chief of staff and i love her answer to the press about her sexuality. i love her now knowing what the hell she wants in late season 7. hmm. i'm gonna say balancing the egg.

Idea for a story: okay well i'll talk about the cj/andy wip here in broad terms because like. it's about cj relearning how to be happy but like more specifically how to think about what she wants after canon, because i don't think she's like completely unhappy for all of canon and she's very optimistic compared to a lot of the others but like, she does spend a fair amount of canon just making sacrifices, and i want her to get a break and have a family!

Unpopular opinion: idk how popular or not this is, i just can't get behind cj/danny. i can't. it's too much him chasing after her while she seems mostly indifferent or vaguely annoyed. i hate that her ending is with him because to me the whole point of that episode wasn't "cj can't see a good thing in front of her" but was "cj has a hard time stepping away from what she perceives as an obligation/thinks she should do (usually to make other people happy)" and should've culminated in her not working with santos and not being with danny.

Favorite relationship: cj/andy! again i cannot possibly choose a platonic one... i'm going to SAY cj&josh bc. i love them, but in two seconds i'll remember anything about any other interaction of hers and go insane

Favorite headcanon: hmm again i have a lot! largely about family and that whole concept! huh. god. i think a lot of it is like canon or at least strongly canon supported, or i've already mentioned. like, cj being really good at disguising her emotions is just plainly canon. oh! hey! i really do love she/they cj!

#asks #answered #claudiasjeancregg #apologies if this makes no sense it is late and i spent several hours before this researching real politics and several hours before that #vaguely uh. editing fic i guess? / kinda writing. so brain broken but i wanted to answer :)#tww #andy wyatt #toby ziegler #cj cregg #gotta say i really don't know how i've become this attached to amy&toby but i have! same goes for amy&sam but i at least actually write #that one a fair amount in the amy fic and i havent done much with toby #this is an invitation to ask me about literally any relationship or group of people in tww and what i think their dynamics are like.#bonus points for including amy jsfbdb but not required!!

7 notes · View notes

writerman · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Thranduil and Bard went to college together but yearned from afar. Some 20ish years later they see each other again bc their kids go to college together. They weren't even aware that they lived in the same town until Legolas and Sigrid come back for vacation. Kind of like the last prompt I sent you.

Hallo, friend!

Please find my response to your prompt below. Thank you for supporting my stories by sending in prompts for me to respond to.

Please enjoy!

---------------

It was 5am the airport was deserted and Bard really, really wished he’d filled his travel cup with coffee before he had left the house to collect Sigrid from her flight home.

It was freezing inside and outside with winter well and truly settled in for the holidays, the snow had finally stopped and Sigrid had assured her father their flight had not been cancelled but her friend she was travelling with had booked an earlier flight to be sure they’d get back the day they wanted.

The blast of colder air from behind him and the sound of the automatic doors meant he was now not the only one in the airport and when he turned around he was greeted with someone bundled up in a long black fur coat and deep green scarf that covered half of their face. Though they wore no hat and their long white-blond hair was dusted with snow that had started lightly falling again outside.

They stood a few feet away from him and gazed up at the arrivals screen which wasn’t even switched on before they huffed with irritation and turned to Bard tugging down their scarf so they could speak to him.

Though, Bard was not ready for 1) how maddeningly gorgeous the man was and 2) how it appeared to be his old crush and roommate Thranduil from university some 20 years ago. This did not go unnoticed by the blond who broke into a bright smile as his expression changed from cold indifference to joyful recognition.

“Bard!” He moved forward without prompting and slung his arms around Bard’s shoulders in a tight embrace. “Ah, how long has it been since we last saw one another?”

It had definitely been at least 20 years since they parted ways in University to chase their dreams with a youthful exuberance that no longer existed within them. That boundless energy at the prospect of seeing the world, true blue-sky thinking with their hopes tripping from their tongues regaling all who would listen regarding their futures.

What had Thranduil done with his life?

What had happened to have the man come back to Dale of all the places in the world to settle?

“I had no idea you were in town, what brings you here?” Bard asks as they broke the embrace, he tried to hide the fact his face had flushed pink the second Thranduil had thrown his arms around him.

“I’ve lived here for years, what about you?”

How strange it was, Bard had never seen him wandering the streets, not even once in the 10 years he had been settled there in Dale.

Flight 206 Arriving from Mirkwood Intl at 5:30 am has been delayed.

The booming yet cheery voice over the tannoy gave Bard heart failure but the dismay at hearing Sigs flight had been cancelled was enough to cover the thundering of his heart.

When he looked to Thranduil he looked equally upset and he turned on his heel and headed towards the door.

“Come on, let’s not hang about, while I loathe the place, MacDonalds is open and they serve semi-decent coffee. It’s better than hanging about here.” Thranduil looked over his shoulder with a small smile and Bard, O, he followed behind the blond like a puppy, the same as he had all those years ago.

He was still a puppy, and still absolutely harbouring a ridiculous crush and still terrified of confronting those feelings. Somethings just never changed, not even after 20 years, a marriage and children.

And so, that was how Bard found himself sat in the plastic chairs of a booth in the fast-food restaurant catching Thran up on his life, the loss of his wife and the kids. It seemed the blond had a similar story just with one less child and they sat in tense silence for a few moments before Thranduil leaned over the table and put his hand over Bard’s with a coy smile.

“As inappropriate as this may sound after our conversation,” He glanced around the empty restaurant lobby before continuing. “I had such an infatuation with you when we were at university. Gods it took over my life at one point, nothing obsessive, I promise but I was absolutely in love with you,” He sat back almost immediately after he’d finished speaking, clearly feeling better now he had admitted his secret.

The information did not help Bard in the slightest.

“What about now?” Bard ventured feeling brave for literally no reason other than perhaps he was over-caffeinated and it was now just after 6 in the morning. “Ahah, I don’t know why I asked that. Gods, it’s too early, who books a flight this early?” Bard tried to cover his embarrassment with an inane question but Thranduil waved that away looking so serious suddenly.

“What about now?” Thranduil mirrored the words, but the emphasis was solely on the last word and Bard couldn’t hold his gaze to the blond any longer and instead stared at the plastic lid of his coffee cup.

“Aren’t we too old to be working through ancient crushes?” Bard asks quietly, he lifts his drink to his lips and feels the still scalding liquid slide down his throat. It was the only distraction at his disposal and being unable to talk due to it sounded like the best thing for him and his mouth that seemed to run off without engaging his mind.

“You think now you’ve hit your 40s you cannot go in search of love?” Thranduil asked, arching an eyebrow and still managing to look elegant even when unimpressed. “Don’t age yourself in such a way. Personally, yes, I struggled with the loneliness and finding new relationships for the longest time but I always knew I deserved to love again and again.”

Surely it as easier for Thranduil to find someone to adore him. No that wasn’t fair, adoration wasn’t love.

“Did you find love again, you didn’t mention you married again.” Bard cast his gaze to Thranduil’s hands, long fingers still smooth and as pale as he remembered… musicians hand he had always said and Thranduil had always enjoyed playing the piano when they had any sort of downtime from studying.

There was no ring though.

“Ah, no. It is difficult to find love and raise children at the same time. But now that Legolas is in university and Tauriel is in high school, perhaps I can try again. What about yourself?”

There is no time for a reply as Bard’s phone begins to play the Coca Cola Christmas music signalling a call from one of his kids.

It is Sigrid, their flight had just landed and she was currently waiting for her luggage and was he at the airport?

Both men spring from their seats and exit hastily in a bid to get to the airport before their children realise they had been sat cosied up in a MacDonalds trying their hardest not to flirt with one another.

They had failed, of course.

Again, they went their separate ways, collecting their children and bidding one another happy holidays before heading to their separate cars likely not seeing another again.

That was until the next day and Bard is sat on the sofa struggling to wrap Tilda’s Christmas gifts while she was out, Sigrid wanders in and hands him a piece of paper with a contact number written out neatly in her own handwriting.

“Legolas said his dad wanted you to have his number in case of a flight delay like the last time.” A flimsy excuse and she saw right through it, Bard knew that when she grinned and plucked the half-wrapped gift from his hands to finish for him.

“I think you should probably go call him.” It wasn’t a hint, it was an order and Bard wasn’t sure he enjoyed his children knowing anything about his love life, not like this anyway… but, rather than argue with her about anything to do with Thranduil, he merely nodded and headed to the kitchen dialling the number into his phone’s keypad as he did so.

Thranduil answered on the second ring with a very smooth and professional greeting which melted away into a warm and friendly tone as soon as he realised it was Bard on the other end of the line.

That was nice.

It was nice that Thranduil seemed excited to hear from him.

“I want to get straight to the point, Thran.” Bard began realising it was far easier to talk about his feelings when the icy blue of Thranduil’s eyes weren’t rooting him to the spot speechless like they had all those years ago. “I had a crush on you in university and I hate saying crush because I’m 40 fucking years old but it never went away and I was hoping I could take you out for dinner sometime?”

There was a sigh of relief from Thranduil’s side of the line and when he spoke Bard could hear the smile in his voice.

“Look who is being so brave. You garnered the courage before I could- you win this time. I’d love to have dinner with you. I admit, being wined and dined by Bard Bowman sounds like a dream.” That was a rather big statement to make and Bard forced the oddly youthful giddiness forced down back inside himself before he said something to ruin it all.

“A dream? How am I a dream date?” He didn’t really want to know, he was afraid Thranduil would tell him he was the perfect kind of dull for a man his age, even if that sounded out of character for the blond it was still a fear.

“Oh come on, you just want me to stroke your ego. But, fine, I suppose you deserve it after all these years.” Thranduil sounded like he was shifting to get comfortable before he spoke again, “You’re incredibly handsome, and you seemed to have gotten even better with age. You’re kind and gentle and you’re funny. I like a man that can make me laugh.”

Funny?

He’d never been called funny before, perhaps he had been a comedian in university but he couldn’t recall, however, if Thranduil thought he was that was enough for him.

“Ok, ok, you’ve made your point, I’m your dream man. That works well for me, so if I stuff this up I still have a chance?”

There was laughter from Thranduil and the deep rumble of it made Bard lightheaded for a second before he brought himself firmly back to planet earth to ask the most important question.

“So, when would you like to meet?”

“Hmm, is tonight too soon?” No, no it was not, even if Thranduil had asked to meet him an hour from then he would agree.

After all, hadn’t they spent enough time apart already?

There was no need for him to play hard to get or even casual.

“Tonight is fine, I will pick you up at 8. Text me your address and I will see you then.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

When the call disconnected Bard wandered past the living room where Sigrid was sat talking quietly on the phone, she spotted her dad and grinned knowingly giving him a thumbs up.

He received a text later that day from Thranduil containing his address and then another right after simply saying:

I have the house to myself tonight ;)

The night would be an eventful one but who was Bard to complain?

This year was going to have a very different ending to all those he had spent in the past alone. Even if he was terrified of this whole new adventure, at least he was doing it with someone who wanted to be by his side for the entire ride.

#Barduil #Bard the bowman #Thranduil #The Hobbit #Writing prompt #morticia-butler

27 notes · View notes

isobel-thorm · 5 years

Note

all the questions :0

Deputy Ask Meme

I’mma do both the Deps again even if y’all only care about Nicalso tagging @teamhawkeye bc you asked for one of the sections for Nic

The Basics

1. Give their full name, and describe them or post a picture! (Height, build, hair, eye, and skin color, etc.)

Nicolette Harper RaylanGrant Emmerson Lyons

2. How old are they?Nic: 29Grant: 37

3. Sexuality and gender?Both: Bi, Grant leans towards preferring men. Nic is female, Grant’s male.

Pre-Game

1. How did they end up at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department? How long have they worked there?Nic: Fell on hard times career/finance-wise, so she called up father figure Whitehorse to see if he could put feelers out. He gave her a job instead. Grant: After his time in the Army went wrong, he tried to handle civilian life. Realized he was wired to be a hero too much, decided to get a police job in the middle of nowhere- thought it would be an easy and quiet life. Worst mistake of his life.

2. Relationship with Pratt, Hudson, and Whitehorse?Nic: As mentioned, Whitehorse is basically her surrogate dad. She has a standard, not-too-attached relationship with the others. Grant: Nothing special. Standard coworker relationship with all of them. In the occasional universe where they co-exist, he adores Nic and sees her as a baby sister. He’d gladly die for her- just because she senses that he’s not a talker and doesn’t force conversation about his muddy past.

3. Do they have an education?Nic: Went to college for forensic psychology, didn’t graduate because college didn’t end up being her thing. Grant: Only ever went as far as high school. Enlisted in the military ASAP to avoid his family.

4. Where are they from? Did they speak a different language there?Both: U.S born and bred, Nic’s from Missoula, Grant started in Texas.

5. Is there anyone outside the valley that might have come looking for them?Nic: Depends on the ‘Verse. Mother would. In one AU that’s currently in the works, John brings her mother to her but his motives are selfish.Grant: No

6. Did they have a religious background of any kind?Both: Atheist because they’ve both had an ‘if there’s a God he abandoned me a long, long time ago’ moment.

Inside Hope County

1. What was going through their head when the helicopter went down and during the subsequent chase?Nic: Every expletive in the English language and “I’m going to kill Burke slowly and painfully and TAKE THE FUCKING TRUCK AND LEAVE HI- goddamn it he’s already here”Grant: Half “I knew it” half being absolutely open to finally, finally dying.

2. Were they afraid of Joseph and Eden’s Gate? Angry?Nic: Not particularly either of them. Part of some of her education made her understand them a little more than she’d like. She’d never justify their means/beliefs, but she gets it. Grant: Just more insane people who need to be knocked down some pegs.

3. Did they trust Dutch?Nic: Weary up until he mentions not having her running all over creation, because ‘a guy with less than questionable motives wouldn’t bother mentioning that.’ Grant: Equally apprehensive, but as a fellow military man part of his gut said trust his brother in arms.

4. How did they feel about their team being taken by the cult, did they count them as lost, did they want them back, did they not care?Nic: Far more concerned about Whitehorse’s well being than the others. He was her first priority, even if she didn’t have high hopes about any of them. She know she’d be utterly lost without him. She still wanted the others back safe and sound but she figured they could withstand more. Grant: Assumed they were all dead, vaguely surprised and relieved when they weren’t. Wanted them back but more out of a sense of duty rather than attachment.

5. How did they take to the idea of being part of, if not leading, the resistance?Nic: Rolled with the punches and went with it. Grant: The last time he was a leader people died, so he was less than thrilled.

6. Which companions did they recruit, and who did they travel with the most?Nic: All, but traveled with Sharky, Nick and the animals more than the rest. She kept in constant contact with Addie but kept her at the Marina just to have an active base. Grant: All, mostly stayed solo but occasionally took Nick and Jess with him.

7. Did they have time to find romance amidst the chaos? How did they do it?Nic: “Hey maybe if I keep John alive I can have a bargaining chip against Joseph” Her plan: backfires John: *forced to work for the Resistance* Nic: *catches feelings for him eventually* “Now HOLD ON A SECOND” Grant: Depends on the ‘verse. In one, he and Staci are both Jacob’s biggest victims so they heal together and then get together. In the one I’m working on now, Grant also gets attached to John, as much as he’s not a fan of the idea.

8. Feelings about Joseph?Nic: Begrudgingly gets his motives and appreciates how he cares for his family. Still hates him for all he’s done, but doesn’t want to go as far as killing him. Grant: “Two questions, where is he, and how do I kill him?” Just wants another tyrant wiped off the map ASAP.

9. Feelings about the other Seeds?Nic: Hates Jacob and takes pride in killing him for all the damage he did, likes John most before everything because they have similiar senses of humor and she acknowledges that he’s at least trying to connect with her without forcing anything that much, she respects that he tries to understand her motives/acknowledges that she ‘thinks’she’s trying to help. Was indifferent towards Faith until Faith took Whitehorse, then all bets were off and the bitch needed to die slowly and painfully because you don’t take her father away from her. Grant: Genuinely distressed about Jacob because of the brothers in arms things. He’s heartbroken that they both had an Army mission go so horribly wrong that it fucked both of them up so badly. He’s well aware that if he was in worse mental shape, he could’ve easily fallen as far as Jacob had. As much as he hates Jacob, part of him dies with the man too because he feels like he failed him in some way, even if there was no other way of ending things. Indifferent to John, hates his whole aesthetic and constant need for attention. Avoids Faith and the Bliss at all costs because he doesn’t like an unfair fight.

10. How did they handle having to kill animals and other humans? Had they done it before?Nic: Super distressed about it until doing it so often nearly desensitizes her to it all. It’s not until she kills Faith that it all catches up to her and she has a breakdown though. Grant: Did it before, can and will do it again if he needs to.

11. Which canon ending did they choose in-game, and would you have changed the ending at all?Nic: Branches off at the Walk Away ending because she uses John as a bargaining chip to try to get Joseph to let her leave/undo the conditioning. Those events lead to the Collapse still happening- just free of the actual Resist part because Joseph and her are on slightly better terms than the canon Resist ending.

Personal

1. Favorite weapon(s)?Nic: Souped up version of the sniper rifle with the Whitetails paintjob. Grant: .44 Magnum, and when that fails, his bare hands.

2. Stealth or firepower?Nic: StealthGrant: Firepower

3. How did they spend their time, when not fighting peggies?Nic: Hanging out with Sharky and the RyesGrant: Fishing

4. Where did they live during the events of the game?Nic: Couch surfing between Sharky, the Ryes, and Mary May’s apartmentGrant: Abandoned house in Falls End

5. Any other facts you want to share about your Deputy!Nic: Had a Thing with Skylar for a little but until she realized Skylar deserved better than to be stuck in the county with her and wanted her to get out/to safety at all cost. Grant: Had the nickname “Wide Man” in high school because he’s got the build to match- it’s stuck his entire life and he hate-loves it.

#Anonymous

5 notes · View notes

handle-with-utmost-care · 6 years

Text

Cheerleader/Soccer player PART 5

Ok so I wrote this series years ago (i think like 4 yrs lmao) and I had a very uncharacteristic urge to finish several stuff I have lingering about..

and this was one of them…IDK If anyone is still interested in reading? Lol or even remember? Or maybe you’re new here bc of riptide but lmao surprise I wrote this cringe drabble that turned into a 5 part fic :)

I am like...70% embarrassed by this fic bc i hate mostly every previous part. it was hard to continue bc I had to get over my crippling distaste for sudden POV changes. maybe someday when I’m not too caught up in my own procrastination I’ll go back and rewrite and flesh out this mess and post it on AO3, but for now this’ll have to do.

to the person constantly harassing me to finish it YOU KNOW WHAT ANNIE I FUCKING IFNALLY DID IT OKAY. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU ASS! @cherylsbosom

also apologies for any typos

PART 5

“Alright, status report girls.”

“I thought we were dropping the fancy lingo?”

“Yeah it’s kinda confusing to keep up with.”

“Status report,” Ally Brooke repeats, sharply eyeing the girls on her bed.

She had invited Dinah and Normani after school to continue discussing a potential plan B.

But from the looks of it, Ally’s got the distinct impression that that’s the last thing on their minds. If their giggling over Dinah’s phone was any obvious indication.

Ally clears her throat pointedly. When that has no effect, Ally stomps her foot. “Girls!”

Dinah drops her phone and Normani’s laughter immediately tapers off.

“We have to focus here. Lives are at stake,” Ally says, as she flips open to the newest empty page in her notepad.

Normani gives her a look of disbelief. Ally almost flushes at the expression, because, okay, maybe she is still getting a bit carried away with this Operation Camren thing.

But she had convinced herself that Camila and Lauren were both too stubborn to realize the obvious. This was all for the sake of love.

And Ally was a firm believer in doing things for the sake of love.

Her eyes glance down at the notepad in time to realize she had already spelled out the mortifying title. She hastily scribbles it out before the girls can see. Normani’s expression turns into an annoyed eye roll.

Fortunately she doesn’t comment, much to the Ally’s relief.

“Mila’s not doing so well,” Dinah says, finally returning her complete attention on the topic at hand. “She’s been ditching soccer practice lately and she never wants to leave her room whenever I try to invite her to go out.”

Ally figured as much. It’s been almost a month since that awful incident at the party, an incident that Camila has been very close lipped about.

Ally had lost count of the number of times she tried to get the girl to open up. Inevitably, each time had always ended in a very indignant frown and an annoyed: “Just drop it Ally, everything is fine, okay?”

Ally wouldn’t press after that. But it was clear that everything most definitely was not okay.

“Lauren is bitchier than usual and I don’t think it has anything to do with the freshman cheerleaders fucking up the pyramid formation,” Normani admits after a while.

Ally sighs at this. She’d been aware of the head cheerleader’s mood swings, witnessing a firsthand account of it yesterday when Lauren completely chewed out a freshman for missing a step in the routine. An honest mistake that really didn’t deserve such a harsh scolding.

Ally had tried to calm Lauren down at the time, but she was having none of it. Instead, Lauren had chosen to stomp off and cut practice short.

Normally, this wouldn’t exactly worry Ally. It wasn’t anything new for Lauren to throw tantrums when things weren’t going her way. But for the tantrums to be so closely followed by a complete emotional 180 was something to be concerned about. And recently Ally had caught Lauren in a state of severe melancholy.

It was a draining experience hanging out with the girls only to have Lauren bringing the atmosphere down with the frequent amount of times she would frown sadly. Or respond sadly. Or even just breathe sadly. Ally had lost count of the sudden urges to shake Lauren and demand what was wrong.

But then, Ally would catch Lauren staring at Camila.

And she had decided that perhaps leaving them alone really was the best option.

Ally plops down at the edge of the bed, defeated.

“And I really thought this was all going to work out.”

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” Normani offers, as she inspects her nails. “Even though their horoscopes say they’re totally compatible.”

Ally doesn’t question how Normani even knows Camila’s birthday.

Another month passes. Another month of the same strained atmosphere. Ally is sure the rest of the cheerleaders have picked up on their leader’s flip flopped mood swings. The girls on the squad learned to leave a wide span between themselves and Lauren.

The soccer team wasn’t faring much better. Ally had noticed Camila’s performance out on the field had suffered drastically to the point that she’d been sitting out on the bench more often than not.

It was a dreary month for all of them, despite the rapidly approaching homecoming game. Something that she, Lauren, and Normani had excitedly talked about at the beginning of the school year was a topic that had been seemingly forgotten.

Yet the school didn’t share the same sentiment. Everywhere, people were buzzing with pregame excitement weeks before. Hallways were adorned with bright posters and decorations. The school’s PA always made sure to add a final comment reminding students to buy their tickets. Many conversations between classes were heard predicting the outcome of the game.

Today isn’t any different, Ally thinks as she pushes past a group of guys on the football team hyping the other up. She rolls her eyes. The action makes her stop before the cafeteria. She wasn’t like this. Usually she’d join in on the hype. Relish in it.

This whole Lauren and Camila is seriously putting a damper in my mental well being too.

She sighs, pushing through the double doors leading to the cafeteria, feeling a wave of despair at the thought.

The cafeteria is loud and rowdy. More than usual, Ally notices. Her eyes flit over to the source of the noise to find a growing throng of students near the far end of the room.

The shouts and jeers echo across the cafeteria walls, mixing into a cacophonous mess. Ally can’t exactly discern what is being said or cheered. But from the school spirit that’s been thrust in her face recently she thinks she has a pretty good guess.

For a moment, Ally panics that this was a planned lunch event she forgot about, or in one of Lauren’s irrational moods, she’d decided to have an impromptu pep rally to punish the squad.

Ally quickly rifles through her bag, pulling out her weekly planner. After flipping to the latest date, relief spreads through her chest.

No. No scheduled event.

More students gravitate towards the crowd. Ally pushes through several people, in the opposite direction, until she finds Normani.

“What’s going on?” Ally questions, sidling up beside the girl. Normani simply shakes her head.

“I don’t know.”

Ally opens her mouth but Normani quickly cuts in.

“And no, I don’t want to know.”

Ally pouts at her indifference.

The both of them make their way to their usual table. And when Lauren joins them a few moments later, she makes no indication that she’s noticed the unusual overly eager students.

Well that rules out an impromptu pep rally.

Lauren takes a seat. Ally immediately feels a wave of sympathy upon seeing her friend. She takes in Lauren’s miserable frown, the distressed knit of her eyebrows and downcast eyes.

This was probably worse than the random angry outbursts the past month. Seeing Lauren so dejected always managed to pull at her heartstrings.

“Hey girl,” Ally greets, moving to take the seat across from her. Lauren barely lifts up her gaze as she tosses her food with the fork in her other hand.

“Hey,” she answers, casting her eyes down upon the untouched food again.

“You want some of my fruit salad?” Normani probes.” My mom put in some mangos, I know you like them.”

Lauren doesn’t even flinch at the uncharacteristically nice gesture.

“Maybe later.”

Ally and Normani exchange a look. This behavior had seemed to be going further and further into a downward spiral as the weeks progressed. Ally was almost tempted to go through with her intervention.

Look how your meddling turned out.

Maybe Normani was right. Maybe it would be just best to leave them alone.

Ally sighs, before pulling out her own lunch.

The crowd continues to go on strong. The jeers and sneers reverberate throughout the lunchroom even more so than before.

Ally begins to notice that the majority of students are starting to swarm the crowd. Her eyes glance around the people trying to determine the situation. That’s when she realizes something that makes her stomach drop.

“I think that’s the soccer team’s table,” Ally says. The tone of her voice grabs both girls’ attention. She watches as Lauren’s eyes dart towards the crowd and the similar conclusion comes to her. Her expression instantly sparks to life.

Lauren is out of her seat before Ally has time to register anything. She doesn’t even have time to tell her to wait because in the next second Lauren is shoving people out of the way and disappearing among the mass of students.

“Come on,” Ally blurts out, tugging Normani up from her seat to chase after her.

Their process is a lot less effortless than Lauren who had people parting like the red sea after her aggressive pushes.

It’s probably because of the hastily muttered excuse me’s that fall from Ally’s lips. Eventually Normani becomes so frustrated that she just hollers a very loud MOVE.

The students finally part, allowing them to push through until they reach the table…. only to realize that they’re too late.

Ally feels her blood turn cold when she sees her friends.

Slowly, her senses come into focus. And she realizes, dizzily, that cheering she heard earlier were actually people chanting FIGHT.

Dinah and one of the freshmen on the cheer squad are in an intense hair pulling scuffle, while Lauren is on the floor trying to aim a punch on another beneath her, who Ally suddenly recognizes as the girl Lauren chewed out at practice what felt like forever ago.

Ally lunges forward trying to pull Lauren up from the girl, as Normani attempts to pry apart the two other girls beside them.

She manages to get Lauren to her feet, not without a ridiculous amount of struggle. Because then Lauren keeps attempting to hit the girl on the floor. The victim of Lauren’s assault isn’t making things any easier for her either, as she continuously claws at them until Ally gets caught in the fray.

Ally feels her hair being yanked in an awkward angle painfully.

God, if she wasn’t a pacifist she swears she would –

“Stop! Stop! Stop this immediately what on earth are all of you – girls STOP IT!”

The sound of the principal makes them all spring apart from each other.

The six girls are huffing and red faced, attempting to catch their breaths.

Ally’s hand instantly comes to gingerly rub her sore scalp, before scowling at the culprit for the hair pulling. The freshman’s eye is already swelling, and Ally tries to quell the silly surge of pride towards Lauren for getting her good.

She glances at Lauren, sighing in relief that her friend looks unscathed for the most part. Her eyes then come to Dinah and Normani. Dinah is pouting as she tries to fix her mussed hair and Normani is pressing her fingers to her bottom lip in search of blood.

Ally sighs again, and that’s when she remembers the last girl. She searches in a frenzy for Camila, praying she wasn’t a part of this. But then she sees the soccer player, gaping wordlessly at them …completely covered in food.

The principal turns his attention towards them all.

“You seven. My office. Now.”

A month’s worth of scraping gum off the cafeteria tables seems a lot better than a potential suspension. Ally will take what she can get, she decides as they all disperse from the principal’s office.

The two offending freshmen pull Lauren aside to beg for forgiveness. Though from Lauren’s stony expression, Ally figures Lauren is already planning to kick them off the team. But then is momentarily shocked when Lauren accepts their apology stiffly, followed by a malicious threat to stay in line.

(Later on, Ally would find out the girls’ had decided to go after Camila in a misguided attempt lighten up their captain’s somber mood).

“Did you see that girl’s eye? You got her so good, Laurenzo. I’m kind of proud,” Dinah compliments, after the two girls slink away. Lauren’s lips tilt into a small smile.

“Yeah but you practically pulled out her entire weave. That’s impressive,” Lauren responds, a smile finally breaking out.

Not that Ally condones fighting, because, like, she so doesn’t, but it’s nice seeing them get along. Albeit for the wrong reasons. But there’s something so amazing seeing Dinah nudging Lauren in that friendly manner. As if they’d known each other their entire lives.

“You both are ridiculous,” Normani snaps. “I literally just got my nails done yesterday and this happened.” She lifts her hand up to show off a broken middle fingernail. They both laugh and after a while Normani cracks a grin. “But okay, yeah it was kind of bad ass.”

“Kind of? Did you see the other girls?” Dinah demands.

“I don’t really understand how you’re all so happy. We got a month’s detention because you guys can’t communicate like normal people.” Camila’s voice pierces through the lighthearted atmosphere. Ally almost forgets her presence because she had been so silent during their walk through the hallway.

She watches as Camila pulls out a spaghetti noodle from her hair and flicks it to the floor.

“We were defending you,” Lauren mumbles after a while.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Camila snaps. “I was handling it.”

“Clearly,” Lauren mumbles sarcastically.

“You know what?” Camila whirls around. “I don’t need your sarcasm. And I don’t need your stupid sympathy, okay? Today wouldn’t have even happened if you weren’t such a bitch.”

Lauren visibly recoils.

“Mila,” Ally begins but the soccer player shoots her a glare.

“No, don’t do that-“

“It wasn’t my fault,” Lauren begins hotly.

“Like you didn’t plan to have them dump the entire squad’s lunch on me. I have spaghetti noodles in places there shouldn’t be!” Camila snaps.

“Mila, she didn’t know that those girls were going to do that to you. You really think she would send those cheerleaders after you?” Dinah questions.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

It’s the statement that does it. That plunges the atmosphere completely into a subzero level. That makes Lauren look completely heartbroken. That actually breaks Ally’s heart.

It’s another week of radio silence between the two. Another week of Ally and Normani (and now on occasion Dinah), watching Lauren sigh dejectedly into her food during lunch. Sometimes she’d cast a few sad looks over to the soccer team’s table. And the girls would look upon her sympathetically.

Lauren didn’t know which was worse.

The pity or being ignored. While one was infuriating as hell, the other just…hurt.

This morning in particular was brutal. She had run into Camila in the hallway, accidentally knocking her duffel bag from her shoulder. When she tried to reach down to grab it, Camila scrambled to pick it up herself and hurried away head bowed. The exchange – or lack of one – left Lauren feeling like she was a ghost.

“Would you just talk to her?” Normani groans exasperatedly after Lauren recounts the events to the three of them in Ally’s room after school.

“She practically hates my guts.” Lauren mutters into her pillow.

“Look, as much as I love kicking you especially when you’re down I don’t think I can take any more of your moping. It’s actually starting to depress me,” Normani sighs, sitting down beside Lauren on the bed. “And I doubt she hates you.”

“Yeah, it’s impossible for Mila to hate anything,” Dinah chimes in from her spot on the floor.

“Except me.”

“She’s just really upset right now, Lauren,” Ally supplies. “And rightfully so. You really did a number on her. What the heck did you even say to her at the party?”

At this, Lauren feels her face redden with shame.

She had toyed with the idea of telling them, but she feared that they would hate her more than she hated herself. And she wasn’t ready for any more negativity.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lauren mumbles. “It was…it was really bad. And I feel really shitty for it too.”

“Then tell her that,” Normani snaps.

That’s easier said than being done, Lauren thinks. She makes a small grunt that earns an eye roll from her friend.

Ally comes to sit next to her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Lauren, we’ve all seen the way you look at her.”

Lauren freezes at this. It’s the first time they all sort of acknowledge the big pink elephant of the room that is her more than platonic feelings for the soccer player. And she almost expects mockery or insults. But when she glances up to find them all staring at her supportively, she feels a deep seated worry slowly dissipate.

“And we’re all more than positive she feels the same way,” Ally continues, saying just the right thing to settle her confused doubt.

“Really?”

“Girl, of course she does,” Dinah adds in. “She looks at you like you put the pineapples on her pizza.”

“That’s disgusting, Dinah,” Normani retorts with a fake gag.

“Well where else are you supposed to put pineapples?”

“Um, not on a pizza.”

“It’s called Hawaiian pizza.”

“All that should be on my pizza is pepperoni and cheese,” Normani argues stubbornly.

“How can you not like pineapples on pizza? Who doesn’t like pineapples on pizza?” Dinah demands turning to look at them incredulously.

“I like Canadian bacon,” Ally says unhelpfully.

Lauren tunes the rest of the conversation after the two decide to settle the matter by ordering pizza. Her thoughts stray to the soccer player. And a pang of guilt hits her.

When the pizza arrives twenty minutes later, Normani demands (through a mouth full of Hawaiian pizza) that Lauren take her self-pitying ass next door and grovel for forgiveness.

Dinah agrees, and Ally rephrases that advice in a more encouraging manner. The thumbs up did little for her self esteem as they all but threw her out of Ally’s room and confiscated her phone lest she try to uber it back home.

And that’s really how she finds herself on Camila Cabello’s doorstep, desperately trying to think of ways to get out of knocking.

It’s stupid. This is dumb. There’s no way – absolutely no way Camila would even want to see her. The past week, the soccer player has been pointedly avoiding her.

No, that was an understatement. Lauren was getting the cold shoulder. That blatant icy treatment that left her feeling even worse than before the stupid cafeteria incident.

The last thing Camila had said to her was still plaguing her mind. Camila had insulted her, offended every nerve that could possibly be offended and yet Lauren knew she deserved it. Dinah may have been right – it wasn’t possible for Camila to hate anyone. But reducing Camila to the type of person who could be so incredibly harsh to another person just made the situation all the more worse.

Camila hated her. It wasn’t even something to debate.

Lauren hesitates ringing the doorbell. Her fingertips ghost across the button, brushing the smooth surface uncertainly.

A hundred and one things filter through her head and they all revolve around the girl somewhere behind the door.

She doesn’t get a chance to summon up much courage because in the next second the door is flying open and the Camila Cabello is standing before her.

She doesn’t look as surprised as Lauren feels, which is more than a little disheartening, but she tries not to let it faze her. Instead, she straightens up, almost to the point of rigidity.

Relax Lauren. Jesus. Okay. Here we go-

“What are you doing here?” Camila asks just as Lauren begins to form the apology that was burning to in the back of her throat ever since she Camila ran out of her bedroom crying.

Lauren hesitates, suddenly feeling the little flicker of confidence she fabricated fade away. Camila looks all around unimpressed with her display and this only serves to turn her nerves into jelly. Abort, Lauren. Abort.

NO. You will fucking stay and say your peace or so help me god you dumb shit.

“I asked you a question,” Camila snaps. It seems strange, so completely out of character seeing her so angry. There’s a venom that wasn’t there before in her voice, in her sharp expression that leaves Lauren wishing she had come better prepared for this.

A stab of guilt pricks at her chest as she realizes the only person who made this happen was herself.

Lauren swallows thickly, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. The attempt to occupy herself with something besides Camila’s steely gaze is pitiful. But then again, she is a coward. She’s not even sure she can look the girl in the eye anymore.

“Look, if you’re not gonna say anything you might as well just –“

“-I’m sorry!” Lauren blurts out. The desperation of the outcry overwhelms her. She’s not going anywhere until she makes Camila listen – to everything. Because she knows deep down this is her only chance. Her only shot at fixing anything that she’s so despicably good at fucking up.

Camila’s glare softens slightly. It’s very miniscule but it gives Lauren the hope she needs.

“I’m sorry, Camila,” she says again, internally quivering at the name that rolls so effortlessly off her tongue. It comes out so naturally, almost as if it had always sort of had its own place in her voice. As if she was supposed to say it over and over again. Which, admittedly she would do…in the privacy of her room…in the dead of night…where literally no one would be able to hear.

(Of course she would deny ever doing that if anyone asked her).

But it’s the first time she’s ever called Camila by her name. Well the first time non insultingly. And it’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the both of them. Lauren feels her face flush suddenly, and Camila’s eyebrows rise.

“Camila,” she pauses, feeling the nervous little buzz building in her stomach at the name. “I didn’t – look, about what happened at the party – I didn’t mean it.”

Camila’s eyes narrow and the walls are back up again.

“It sure didn’t sound like it. Just because you defended me last week, which I didn’t even freaking ask you to do by the way, doesn’t mean I’m going to be welcoming you into my life with open arms,” Camila says. “You humiliated me.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do, Lauren. It hurt. Like a lot, okay?” Camila blurts out. “I’m not even sure I can forgive you.”

Lauren feels that little glimmer of hope crash dive. This isn’t going as planned. Oh what did she know? There weren’t any plans or any go-to instructions for this kind of situation. How were you even supposed to convince the girl that you’ve been stupidly in love with for four years that you want her?

She flushes at the thought and the familiar wave of denial bubbles up in the pit of her stomach. She can barely even admit that fact inside her own head. How could she possibly even begin to explain it to Camila?

The girl practically thinks she hates her, which she doesn’t. Oh god, she doesn’t even hate her at all.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Camila,” Lauren begins, feeling her voice tremble. “I really don’t. I just – I just wanted to explain.”

Camila stares at her expectantly.

“I didn’t know what people were going to think if they found out,” Lauren mutters and Camila rolls her eyes.

“That’s not enough.”

“I was scared.”

“That’s still not enough.”

“Camila, please.”

She sees the girl’s expression soften again, the aggression slowly crumbling away. It gives her the courage she needs, the motivation to bring down her own stupid barrier preventing her from being vulnerable.

And this time, when Camila speaks her anger has soundly melted. “Don’t be scared.”

It’s just a small request, not even louder than a whisper but Lauren can hear it. The conviction behind the three words. The ounce of moral support beneath them. The figurative hesitant arms being slowly opened for her to walk into and it’s enough.

Lauren takes a deep breath, her heart pounding. She swallows thickly and tries to calm the rapid beating.

“I really didn’t mean what I said to you at the party,” she begins

Lauren almost anticipates Camila to make another sarcastic comment, but she simply stares at her so she continues.

“I didn’t mean it when I told you that there wasn’t anything that would happen between us. I didn’t believe it in the slightest because…I wanted something to happen,” she admits in a rush. “And all that stuff about you being no one was just about the shittiest thing I’ve ever said and I feel terrible. It’s not true at all, Camila. Not even a little bit. I was just – I wanted to hurt you because I was the one feeling like the loser. I’m a shitty person know I am.”

“You’re not a shitty person Lauren,” Camila sighs wearily. The admittance makes her hesitate. Makes her stop and stare at Camila keenly, feeling her chest ache suddenly.

Even in her anger, Camila will still defend her. Lauren isn’t even sure if this should please or upset her.

“I am though. And it’s not even about the night of the party. I know I’ve put you through hell for like years. I’ve just been such an idiot about all of this because I was just so fucking scared of what it all meant.” She stops and runs a nervous hand through her hair. “Because I’ve never felt this way, like ever about anyone and I knew, deep down that you had the power to hurt me in the worst way. And I just, like I just refused to give you that power so I thought that if I hurt you first…” Lauren trails off, shaking her head. The shame that’s kept her up all night for weeks manages to creep back up.

She averts her gaze, feeling the all too familiar burning stinging building. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Camila.

“It’s stupid I know,” Lauren mumbles. “It makes no sense – that logic. I’m an idiot and I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be that person who gets scared over every fucking little thing, or the person who cares more about her popularity than the things that really matter. I just don’t care about that stuff anymore. Camila, I don’t care. I don’t even – I can’t even properly articulate how fucking sorry I am. For everything. For making your feelings seem like they don’t matter because they do, Camila. They matter so much to me. And…I’m done belittling my own feelings as well because…because they matter too.”

She feels Camila’s eyes burning into the side of her face, almost as if prompting her to turn and face her. But she’s afraid of what she’ll see. Disgust? Anger?

She doesn’t expect the softness. She doesn’t expect the understanding. She doesn’t expect the feel of her fingertips brushing against her. In comfort. Acceptance.

Camila’s warm hands come to grip hers, undoing her tight fist. She feels a palm press into hers and it feels so incredibly intimate that Lauren is almost tempted to pull away. The sudden fear springs up again. The fear of being hurt.

But when she looks up at Camila’s face again, the fear melts.

“What do you feel?” Camila asks gently.

She poses the question that went unanswered in that stuffy room during the party. She’s opening the door of vulnerable opportunity. She’s allowing Lauren a second chance. One that she knows she doesn’t deserve.

A gentle squeeze of their hands prompts Lauren to speak again.

“I feel…” Lauren’s voice dies, as a lump forms in her throat. It’s stupid to get this emotional, she thinks. But god it’s been such a long time since she’s felt anything remotely similar to this. “I feel a lot,” she finishes lamely.

Camila tilts her head. For a second, Lauren feels that she’s going to laugh at her dumb attempt at opening up. But Camila is patient, something that Lauren is beginning to feel grateful for. She’s nothing like Lauren.

“I think you should know, that I…” Lauren trails off uncertainly. She stammers on the spot for a moment. It takes another gentle squeeze for Lauren to calm her nerves. “I think you're the most irritatingly adorable person I've met. I get butterflies every time I'm even in the same room as you, or even when you just look at me because you make me so nervous. And you make me doubt everything and it pisses me off but at the same time I love it because it’s you.” She pauses, releasing a shaky breath. "You’re just – like – I don’t even think you realize how extraordinary you are Camila.”

Lauren averts her eyes. Blearily glowering down at her shoes. Shifting weight between each foot. But Camila’s hand is still in hers. Intertwined. Giving Lauren just enough courage to continue.

“And I know it’s stupid because I’ve been such a bitch to you all of these years. I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you, saying all of this now. I just,” Lauren pauses, searching for the proper words. Her pounding heart isn’t exactly making it any easier. Camila staring at her so intensely isn’t making it any easier either. “I just wanted your attention. And I didn't care if it was negative attention.”

Lauren lets out a shuddering breath. The hand in hers loosens, and Lauren quickly tightens it, keeping their fingers firmly interlocked.

“I wanted your eyes on me. I wanted you to know me. That’s what I’ve always ever wanted, Camila."

The homecoming game falls on a chilly Friday night in October. The winds send a biting chill as the sun falls into its daily descent. The bright lights of the stadium highlights the puffs of breaths exhaled from excited students as they find their seats on the bleachers.

The football teams congregate on either side of the field, huddling for their plays. The cheerleaders form a tight group on the track, coming closer for warmth behind their short, pleated skirts, awaiting their captain’s presence.

The frosty air extends past the field, curling and slithering beneath the cracks of the school’s double doors, spreading through the empty hallways. Even faintly permeating within the small confines of the girl’s locker room. Where the conveniently absent head cheerleader has dragged a more than willing soccer player away from the loud crowded football field.

Lauren presses Camila up against the locker. She feels Camila squirm beneath her weight and she gets a thrill out of it. Her lips brush against Camila’s forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin, finally resting upon her mouth. Lauren moves them slow and sensually, closing and parting her lips in a delicious rhythm she has become quite familiar with.

Lauren parts her lips again, taking in the Camila’s bottom lip. Her teeth close around them, almost playfully. It would be playful if Lauren’s hands aren’t currently trying to cop a feel beneath the girl’s shirt.

Camila pulls away breathlessly. Her pants beat enticingly against Lauren’s lips, tempting her to close the gap again. But Camila is resilient, even angling her body away slightly.

“Did the girls give you a hard time?” Camila asks, her hands loosening their tight grip in her hair.

“No, it’s not halftime yet.”

Camila nods and leans back against the locker again.

“Do you think they suspect anything?”

“Please. The girls are still betting on Ally’s dumb Operation Camren plan,” Lauren scoffs. Camila laughs. Lauren feels Camila’s fingers play with the ends of her hair, twirling a few strands.

The uneven pace from the kissing has melted, warming Lauren up inside, as if she had her own personal Camila sweater. The thought almost makes her cringe. When did she turn into such a sap?

“You know, without Ally’s dumb plan this probably wouldn’t have happened,” Camila murmurs.

Lauren wants to disagree. She wants to protest and go through her detailed argument of how very much it would have happened anyway. How they were inevitable from the very beginning. It was only a matter of time because they were made for each other.

But it’s stupid and makes her sound like a weenie, even in her head.

Lauren is a lot of things. But she is most definitely not a weenie.

“Should we thank her?”

“Hmm, probably not,” Camila says, glancing down at Lauren’s lips. “I think she’ll be disappointed that she couldn’t plan our first date.”

There’s always the wedding.

For a horrifying second, Lauren almost says that out loud. It takes her a moment to recover from her almost blunder. She secretly thanks the big man upstairs for gracing her with the ability to keep her mouth shut.

(She makes a mental note to go with Ally to church more often).

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Lauren finally responds, eyes roaming across Camila’s face. Her flushed expression. Her red, bruised lips, tousled hand blown out eyes. Lauren feels a quiver of happiness and something not quite as innocent fluttering below her waist. Her nails dance around her skin lightly. Camila shivers beneath her touch.

“Are you cold?” Lauren asks in a soft voice.

Camila glances up at her from beneath her eyelashes and Lauren swears she feels her heart stop.

“A little,” Camila murmurs. Lauren doesn’t hesitate in shrugging off her lettermen and draping it over Camila’s shoulders. “Wait, no I was kidding kind of. You can’t give me this you’re gonna get cold and plus everyone is going to see-“

“I’m not gonna need it during the routine,” Lauren reassures in that same soft tone. “And you’re my girlfriend now. Let everyone see.”

Oh god, did that really come out of my mouth? That stupid cheesey dumb good for nothing line that’ll probably make Camz totally cringe. that’s it I’m becoming a Satanist –

But then she looks at Camila and she’s is staring right back at her with an expression Lauren can’t quite put her finger on. But it easily becomes one of her favorites.

She doesn’t get a chance to speak because Camila is pulling her face down for another long, deep kiss. Their lips move at a heated pace. Lauren can feel the message conveyed in the very contours of Camila’s mouth.

I love you.

It’s not time yet. It’s too soon.

But eventually.

Ally bundles up in her letterman, standing next to Normani on the track field. The noise of chatter from the onlookers on the bleachers is a comforting sound, setting in her cold body pleasantly. Her eyes glance towards the football field, watching her boyfriend Troy in his gear, stretching by the bench, before running out into the field to replace another player. It’s the last game of the season and the excitement is tangible.

“Any sign of Lauren? The quarter is about to end. We already be preparing for the routine,” Normani complains.

As if on cue, the head cheerleader runs on to the field hurriedly, looking much too flushed for this cold weather.

“Hey,” Lauren greets, unevenly, making Ally and Normani exchange a furtive look. Lauren catches this. “What?”

“You’re all red,” Ally supplies, rather sheepishly because thinking of Lauren doing whatever she was doing (or who she was doing, rather), isn’t something she wants to picture.

“And you’re …flustered.” Normani smirks.

“Where’s your jacket?” Ally adds.

Finally Lauren snaps. “What is with the third degree? Jesus, I’m here aren’t I? You know what just get into formation.”

Both Ally and Normani resist the urge to laugh at the blushing girl.

Ally doesn’t have the heart to tease her further. Instead, she follows Lauren’s lead, falling into place with the rest of the cheerleaders.

However, as the routine progresses, Ally can’t help but notice something –someone – emerging from the very same double doors their head cheerleader had burst from just moments ago. Out comes a very flustered, but very happy soccer player, wearing a very familiar letterman jacket. And if Ally hadn’t noticed Lauren’s obvious shivering, the fact that Jauregui was engraved across the back in gold letters was telling enough.

Ally watches as Camila practically skips up towards the bleachers to sit beside Dinah, looking absurdly pleased with herself. The sight brings a silly grin to Ally’s face.

She glances over to Lauren who is too busy staring down at her shoes. But Ally notices the distinct pink tinge to her cheeks.

Her attention shifts to Normani and sees that she, too, notices Camila’s sudden wardrobe change. Normani smirks. But both remained tightlipped.

Once halftime is over, Ally watches as Lauren scurries back through the double doors leading to the locker rooms. She doesn’t even wait to have a quick debriefing of their routine, which Ally finds almost irresponsible. Well, she’ll talk to her about that later. It’s not like she doesn’t know what’s got Lauren all flouncy. Or who.

As if to further demonstrate this, Dinah approaches Ally and Normani down from the bleachers with a smug expression on her face.

“I see Laurenzo isn’t with you.”

Normani glances over Dinah’s shoulder.

“Neither is Camila,” Normani states, a matching smirk growing on her face.

They all sort of giggle at their observation.

Camila and Lauren were not discreet at all. Whatever secret they think they had was about as subtle as a neon sign. A blinking one. With dancing interchangeable lights. And fireworks lighting up in the background.

If all of the times Ally’s caught Lauren waiting by Camila’s locker weren’t an obvious indication. It’s probably the hickeys she’s absently seen as Lauren tries to hastily change into her uniform for practice. Or the nights she’s caught Lauren wearing what looked like one of Camila’s jerseys during sleepovers. Or the flowers Camila swears were from her father the days leading up to the game, (even though Ally distinctly remembers her father never buying flowers because of his allergies).

Not that she confronted them about it. At least not directly.

A little teasing maybe. Something that both of her snickering friends could agree with and had wholeheartedly participated in.

But no. No. She’s definitely learned her lesson about meddling…at least until that potential future wedding she’s begun making plans for comes into play.

Which, in that case, Operation Camren 2.0 is definitely a go.

A/N: happy 2018 !

#hwuc fics #wow i can't believe this happened #i still blame you #annie #camren

20 notes · View notes