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maeve-writes · 3 years

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Heroes

Pairing: Stripper!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Stripper!Steve Rogers

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: Adult situations, alcohol consumption, allusion to mild cheating(??). More to be added later.

Summary: It’s your friend’s birthday and you’re dragged to the Heroes club. You’re not one for that kind of place, but you quickly change your mind after you get to play the damsel in distress for a pair of Brooklyn babes.

a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. This is the second story I’ve written in a while. Forgive me?

You normally don’t go to these sorts of places but it was your friend’s 30th birthday and it was on her bucket list. Luckily, you weren’t talked into planning any of it, just had to toss in some cash for the fee to get in and the never ending flow of drinks, plus the very special Birthday Girl Dance package.

It took you three years after the second Magic Mike movie came out to watch the first one. The idea of male strippers seemed odd. But, when you really thought about it, so did female strippers.

Nevertheless, the night ultimately wasn’t about you, it was about your friend and her birthday. You were happy to be there with your friends, enjoying the celebration and drinks, seeing hot guys take off their clothes was a weird added bonus.

Heroes was the club to go if you wanted to see buff dudes bare it all. Tara, the birthday girl, had been raving about it for months. She found videos of it online and shared them in your group chat. That, of course, had your other friends looking for more videos and all of them started to have their favorites.

“Girl, some of them even give private shows,” Sonya, the oldest and who was supposed to be the responsible one of your group, mock-whispered excitedly.

You tried not to roll your eyes as your gang was escorted to the front table near the stage. It was a semicircular booth where small round tables came up from the floor, big enough for drinks, but small and spaced out enough to allow for bodies to move around and in between.

Your host was a slender built guy on the younger side, barely old enough to be allowed in. He had a baby face and a boyish smile, but his muscles were well defined as the club forced him to be shirtless save for the small bow tie around his neck with a spider in the middle, and the tiny pair of shorts that cupped his rear which stayed there by what you guessed was his will or magic. Maybe both.

“Here you are, ladies,” he guided, instructing Tara to take her seat near the middle. “The name’s Peter- uh Spider-Man. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

That set off a fit of giggles from your friends which caused a full body flush from your waiter. His embarrassment tugged at your heartstrings. “New at this, Mr. Spider,” you asked.

His flush darkened and he rubbed absently at the back at his neck after he passed out the menus. “It’s Spider-Man,” he corrected you, “but is it that obvious?” You tilted your head and scrunched up your nose, parting your pointer and thumb a small ways apart. He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing a little. You gave him a wink and a smile before the rest of your friends attacked the poor kid with their drink and food orders.

You felt sorry for the guy, but he seemed to have loosened up a bit since your small, playful banter and your friends ate up his boyish charm.

While you waited for your turn to order, you looked around the club to find its sleek design, not something you thought a strip club would offer. The walls were painted black, accented by silver framed posters of the dancers. Above each were white neon lights that spelt out their Hero name.

The rest of the booths were like your own, made of soft black cushions, black metal bases which were illuminated underneath by white light. The tables that sprang from the ground were polished silver necks with textured tempered glass tops to keep drink slipping and spilling to a minimum.

Of course, all of the booths surrounded the stage, which was mostly closed off by a thick black curtain, save for the large catwalk that split half of the sitting area in two. It was wide enough to fit three large men comfortably across it, shoulder to shoulder, and from some of the videos your group shared, they had done so before.

When Peter- there was no way you were going to refer to him by his Hero name- got to your order last, you could hear other rowdy groups start to file in. A couple of bachelorette parties, a girl’s 21st birthday, and a Happy Divorce Finalization Day were all joining you. Your friends quickly became friends with everyone in the room, so even if the show sucked, at least all of you could get drunk and have fun.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a voice rang out above you. Cheers burst from the crowd and every light in the room popped out and stayed out until the room fell silent. “Now that I have your attention…” A tall, dark man walked out from the split of the curtains. He wore a wireless microphone over his ear, an eyepatch over his eye which rested just above a self assured smile. Dressed in a fitted pair of leather pants and combat boots, he strode to the center crossroads of the stage and catwalk, “My name is Director Fury. I will be introducing you to your Heroes tonight.” He paused for another round of catcalls. “And hopefully we can save you from the Villains, too.” That drew out louder screams from the crowd.

“Now, what do we do to the bad girls like you,” he paused, looking pointedly to the crowd, “we contain,” he pulled a piece of rope from the back of his pants and tossed it into a group nearby, “detain,” he pulled out cuffs and twirled them around a finger before he threw those out as well, “and entertain.” With that, the bass dropped and the curtain flew open, behind Director Fury were the Heroes (and Villains) in all of their sweat slicked glory.

Once the Director stepped aside, the seven dancers on stage began their opening routine. Dressed in black vests and tear-away leather pants, the men paraded around the stage and catwalk to the thump of the music, pulling off pieces of their clothing as they went. The women around you went wild, snatching at whatever was tossed their way, fighting playfully for it. While it seemed incredibly silly, Tara was having the time of her life and you absently sipped at your Tequila Sunrise while you scrolled on your phone.

The dance number finished not two minutes later with a screaming cheer and standing ovation from the rest of the already slightly tipsy crowd. Director Fury came out while the dancers disappeared into the back to get ready, he worked the crowd, mentioning the brides-to-be and promised them a very special wedding gift before the night was over. “But I heard there were a couple of birthdays here,” Fury said, looking between your group and the one behind you. “Now, I’m going to get the young gun back there in a moment, but… a little bird told me that you,” he pointed to your friend, “are a very big fan of our first Hero of the night.”

Tara squealed and stood up, “Fuck yes, I am. God bless Captain America! ...and dat ass!”

It was obvious that Director Fury was trying to keep his composure, but the corners of his lips twitched like he wanted to join in on the laughter from the crowd. “Well, he is certainly blessed,” he replied, “and ladies, you will be, too, when you see him at full salute.” He winked and started to walk off stage, “Captain? Duty calls…”

Some sort of abomination of the Star Spangled Banner started to play, remixed with drum and bass. You looked up to see what kind of horror show would come from something treasonous as what bled from the speakers around you, you were met with over six feet of muscle covered in a fitted blue suit, fingerless leather gloves on his hands, and a round metal shield on his back painted red, white, and blue.

The Captain’s background was what looked like a large war ship with painted ski-masked bad guys spread throughout the levels. His stage allowed him ramps and poles to move up and down, which he used freely. He used a mixture of acrobatics and dance to move across the stage, tossing the shield around, “fighting off the bad guys” and losing his clothes in the process. By the end of the song he was left in just the leather gloves and a very tight pair of shorts, much like the ones Peter wore, except the Captains had the same pattern of his shield printed across the backside.

Tara’s screams knocked you out of your daze and you realized you hadn’t stared down at your phone at all during the Captain’s dance. You watched all five minutes of it and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Heroes wasn’t about getting drunk women horny, they wanted to put on a show, too. You clapped lightly, though it was drowned out by the cheering around you, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t unnoticed.

Fury was out once again and he brought up the first bachelorette of the night. He put her in a chair on the catwalk and gave her a candy-garterbelt. Then he asked her waiter, a guy named “Ant Man”, to remove it with only his tongue, which he happily obliged.

Peter cut off your view with another drink, one you didn’t order. “On the house,” he said with a lopsided grin and placed the red, white, and blue layered drink next to your nearly empty Sunrise. Before you could ask him who ordered it, the candy garterbelt was being tugged between the bachelorette and her waiter. It ended in a tongue-y kiss and the ladies went wild.

“Let’s hope her future husband doesn’t mind,” you muttered and turned your attention to your phone once again. Director Fury, thankfully, broke up the awkward scene on stage and began to introduce the next dancers. It was a pair, brothers, apparently, and they worked on the good versus bad troupe. Thor and Loki were opposites in every sense of the word. Thor was a large blond with a commanding presence. He had a bright smile and sun kissed skin that looked great in his red and gold trimmed briefs. But his brother was slender, graceful - almost cat-like, with dark hair and a mischievous grin all wrapped in flawless alabaster skin. They didn’t look like brothers, but they moved around each other like they had been together all of their lives, and knew each other’s moves.

You only caught half of their story, as you were already halfway done with, what you found out was called the American Glory drink, and half wondered if that was what Captain America tasted like. Fury was up again and had the young lady celebrating her 21st birthday take two shots and lick the salt from Thor and Loki’s still sweaty chests.

Peter found his way in front of you again and said that someone needed to talk to you about your card being declined. You frowned and excused yourself from your friends to find out what was going on. There shouldn’t have been a problem, you got paid the day before, there was plenty of money in your account.

You were taken to a hall that connected what seemed like offices, the dressing room, and the route to the backstage. “Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly, “they said this was the only way to get you back here. Gotta go.” He waved and jogged back out to the lobby.

Confused, you were about to shout out after him when you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned, you faced that wall of American muscle beaming down at you. “Hey there,” he greeted, a smile almost blinding you from its perfection. “Don’t be too mad at the kid, I asked him to get you back here.”

“What,” was all you could get out. He was thankfully dressed, but his muscles were straining against the white tshirt and the gym shorts did not hide the package he carried. Even with all of that, what mesmerized you most was his eyes, sparkling blue and bright with amusement.

“This next bit requires audience participation and he had someone in mind,” the Captain replied like he explained everything.

“We had someone in mind,” a voice corrected behind the door you two stood near. You tore your eyes away from the blond and eyed the wood barrier suspiciously.

“Don’t worry,” Captain America laughed, capturing your attention once again, “it’s nothing too dangerous or embarrassing. You just have to sit there, pretend to be tied up, and me and Buck will dance around you.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in thought, “Well, actually, you really will be tied up, but we promise we’ll let you go once we’re done.”

“Or not, if you don’t want us to,” came the voice again, which made the Captain laugh.

You blinked up at him and frowned, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” he shook his head. “We might dance on you a little, if you don’t mind, the crowd likes it. But if not, we can work around that.” The thought of Captain America in those tiny shorts grinding on you was a very nice thought.

“‘Sfine,” you shrugged.

He beamed and reached out to squeeze you on the shoulder, his touch lingering and his thumb running along your collarbone. “I’ll let the stage team know.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and knocked on the door next to you both, “Five minutes.” When he heard a ‘yeah, got it’, the Captain motioned you to follow him.

The stage crew took over and the Captain disappeared to get ready. You were told about the chair you’d be sitting in, the rope that would be tied around your chest and if you would be okay with it. There was some hesitation on your part, but ultimately you agreed. They brought you on stage, a winter wonderland of sorts and placed you on a log-like chair. The rope wasn’t tight, but it was obvious you were the damsel in distress.

“One of you was taken,” Director Fury said from the other side of the curtain in front of you, “by The Winter Soldat. Will she survive? Will she be saved?” All of the lights turn off once again and an industrial heavy beat thrummed through the speakers, rattling your bones. Red stage lights shone down on you when the curtain pulled open and your friends lost their minds.

To your right you saw a figure stalk out of the dark, red light bouncing off a silver metal arm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on you like you were prey. His black muscle shirt clung tightly to his chest, one sleeve missing to show off his arm, and his black tactical pants stretched against his thick thighs. You could feel the shaking of the stage from the stomps of his booted feet.

Eyes wide, you stared at him until he stopped short of your chair on cue with the music. His nostrils flared lightly before he moved again, the music flowing with him. He slung one leg over the side over your chair, straddling you. The metal arm clamped the wooden back rest of the chair and he narrowed his gaze. Lights flash around you, strobing from red to white and back again until they settle on the house lights.

Soldat began to roll his body with the tempo, blue eyes locked with yours. You could hear the screams behind him as he dancing, but neither of you were paying attention.

His hips circled until he’s seated on your lap, you’re practically nose to nose. He brought his flesh hand to the side of your face and you could feel it trembling against your skin. With him that close you could hear him mutter in some other language that isn’t English, you’re guessing Russian, but you’re not sure. Either way, you felt crushed by his weight and you liked it. You didn't want him to go.

But the music changed and the lights started to flash again, red, white, and now blue mixed in. Captain America joined the two of you on stage and Soldat slipped from your lap. Just as Thor and Loki had before, these two moved around each other like they were made from the same mold.

During the fight, pieces of clothing were tossed aside and at one point you were freed from your bonds. Soldat pulled you up from your chair and up against his chest, your backside pressed so tightly against him you could almost feel his heartbeat. He moved you with him as he continued to fight the Captain.

Until seconds before the song ended and the music swelled, the Captain landed one good blow to Soldat and sandwiched you between them. The Winter Soldier recalibrated and recognized his old friend and you. He pulled the Captain into a big bear hug and then picked you up bridal style, taking you off stage with cheers from the crowd.

Once you’re all off stage, he sat you down with a hearty laugh. “You did a fantastic job, sweetheart,” the Soldier praised, running his metal hand through his chin length brown hair. “Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner.” Flushed from embarrassment and arousal, you continued to stare at him until you were joined by the Captain. “I told you she’d be great, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Buck, you know how to pick ‘em,” the blond agreed with a smile.

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, finally coming out of your stupor. “That was… fun. I’m just going to go back to my seat now, I guess.”

“Wait,” the one named “Buck” jumped to stop you, “we were wondering if you wanted a private show?” You heard about those from Tara. You knew that they were exclusive and very expensive… and sometimes had happy endings. They seemed to sense your hesitation because they both added in unison as they eyed you up like you were a four course meal, “For free.”

“I never turn down free anything,” you shrugged. The pair turned to look at each other and their smiles turned to wicked grins. You aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you’re pretty sure you were going to enjoy it.

a/n: Part Two coming soon... with smut!

#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x you x steve rogers #bucky barnes x y/n x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve rogers x y/n x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stripper!bucky barnes #stripper!steve rogers #stripper!au #heroes au

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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine PRT TWO:

Erik walks in on his homeboys sister stepping out of the shower and she is embarrassed/ has a huge crush on him.

If you want to be tagged in future fics the taglist is on my masterlist which is linked in my bio!!! This became longer than I expected but oh well lol. Enjoy!

“So...you’ve always wanted me to see you naked?”

Yara toyed with a lock of hair, “Yeah...” she spoke with her voice barely above a whisper.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, little Yara, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”

Shivers...deep, bone aching shivers is what she felt coursing through her body. The white cotton towel that barely fit around her hourglass frame was begging to be freed. It was dark. The only light source was coming from her bedroom window. Whatever was going on below on Telegraph Ave; passing cars, other buildings lit up, and lampposts, all shown through her windows with open sheer white curtains, the light gently weaving its way through the open blinds.

“Little Yara,” He spoke with a hushed tone, “I know this is something you’ve been waiting on but Mike will be back any second now, you gotta move at a faster pace than that, girl,” Erik spoke, his eyes darting towards the closed bedroom door then back at her.

“Do I look little, Erik?” Yara questions, turning away from Erik to focus on a poster on her wall while both of her shaking hands release the towel, the semi damp cotton pooling around her feet.

“Fuck no,” Erik spoke with a deep, alluring tone, “Ain’t shit little on you...can’t wait to get up in that pussy.”

He wasn’t about to play with Yara. He asked her on that couch if she was sure because he didn’t like playing games when it came down to laying that good pipe. She wants some of that D, she gotta be a big girl and take whatever he gives her. That intrigued and frightened Yara at the same time. Sure, she had sex with a few dudes who weren’t exactly exclusives in her life. The dick was good, it kept her pussy wet, kept her wanting more sex but with Erik, Yara heard the stories about him from high school and around the neighborhood.

“Aight, girl, go lay out on the bed for me,” He says while removing his Raiders bomber jacket and now his simple white V-neck tee. This is Erik 2.0, muscles beyond what Yara had imagined when he was wearing his shirt and jacket. All of that sexy bulk hidden beneath that fabric. His skin looked so smooth and unblemished, even with the tiny raised scarification that littered his pectorals and arms. His torso was bare but from the look of the scars, they will occupy that area soon.

“C’mere,” Erik spoke with a gruff tone, picking Yara up and stunning her further. While kissing her soft lips, Erik dropped Yara down onto her bed, Yara bouncing before righting herself by planting both of her hands on the bed, bringing her feet up and without even realizing, causing her thighs to spread wide. Erik could see a little bit of her fat pussy but not everything he wanted.

“Where is your light switch?” He asked impatiently.

“Where light switches usually be,” Yara smart mouthed.

Erik walked to her door, finding the light on the wall right next to it, “Still got that smart ass mouth on you...back then I could only argue back...now...I’m just gonna fuck the shit outta you, see if you got something smart to say then.”

The lights go on, so bright and detecting that Yara felt completely exposed. She went silent, her knees to her chest and her thigh meat so juicy that it hid her pussy from his view. Erik watched her reaction to her room now being well lit while kicking off his jeans and socks. He’s only in his briefs now and from that alone Yara clenched up.

“You Gon’ see it, just lay back and spread your legs for me, little Yara,” Erik says while walking up to her.

She did as she was told, laying back against her bed, her thighs still closed. The last time she saw Erik in a pair of briefs was years ago when he was about eighteen. He was changing his clothes in Micheal’s bedroom and the door was cracked. She peeked through the crack of the door at the exact moment Erik was changing out of his prom suit and into a relaxed fit for the senior prom after party. He was so slim back then. Looking at him now, he’s 27 years old and more of a man physically and mentally than he ever was at 18. She was excited and nervous all wrapped into one enormous gift.

“I said spread your fuckin’ thighs too, didnt I?”

“Yeah,” She says, spreading them but placing her hand over her pussy. Erik blew air out his nose while shaking his head.

“Little Yara…” Erik yanks her hand away, reaching his hands out to push her thighs back with a firm grip to keep her pussy spread open. Erik stared at her pussy with unblinking eyes before getting down on his knees. She waited while trying to keep her breathing under control but his silence and her pussy being wide open in his face made her anxious.

“Now that is beautiful...that chocolate and pink go good together.”

The nastiness of his words and the desire in his voice has Yara lifting her head from the bed to stare at him from in between her thighs. He was studying her pussy like a famous Picasso painting. Erik’s thick fingers had her outer pussy lips pushed to the side so that he could look at her clit, inner folds, and tight canal.

“Nice, fat, juicy pussy, little Yara.”

“I’m not little…” she spoke with a low voice.

“You’re little until I see for myself how you take a big dick, so you can kill that girl.”

“Fuck,” Yara says when Erik’s thumb swipes her clit.

“You carry all this phat pussy around?” He asks while constantly circulating his thumb around her clit to make it more stiff.

“Yes,” she replied simply, only because she couldn’t fight the moans leaving her mouth.

“If Daddy slides his tongue up and down this yummy looking pussy you gon’ cum on my tongue like a good girl?”

Yara rapidly nods her head, “Uhuh, yes.”

“If Daddy slides between your thighs and fuck your hot, wet pussy you gon’ be a good girl and take it?”

“Unh, Yes-

“You better, otherwise you won’t be big Yara, just little Yara,” he teases, “Mhm, you’re ready to get busy, pussy was looking real tasty bent over that tub let me see if it’s true…”

Erik starts licking Yara’s outer pussy lips before allowing his saliva to drip to the tip of his tongue, making the shape of it flat before further moistening Yara’s inner folds and clit. Erik’s flat tongue hooked under her clit, before moving up and down, tracing it over her labia and then right over her clit and back down. Oh, she was engorged down there; erect clit and labia so sensitive from that action alone.

“Oh, my God,” Yara’s hips would jerk each time he licked her. It was so generous the way he did it, never missing all the spots that made Yara go crazy. His tongue was making sweet love to her pussy and damn did she want to cum in his mouth. Erik stops, Yara sighing with frustration. He climbs further up her body, kissing her body along the way before taking the time to suck on her nipples.

“Fuck, Erik,” She still couldn’t believe that this is her brother’s bestfriend feasting on her, “That shit is so good…”

He took his tongue, licked around her large, dark areolas in a circular motion until his tongue reached the center; her nipple. At this point, the skin of her areolas had wrinkled like she was out in the cold from Erik’s tongue, her nipples pointy, hard, and suckable. That must have been a technique of his because her nipples are so damn hard if she touched them they wouldn’t move. When Erik’s lush lips wrapped around her right nipple, his eyes peeked through his lashes at her while he sucked causing Yara to gasp.

“Mmmm, yes,” She didn’t realize nipple sucking could be so intense, “Erik, yes, keep doing that.”

He moved on to her left nipple, doing the same exact thing while keeping her right nipple nice and hard with his thumb so that he could go back to it and suck some more. She felt tingles throughout her body. Yara would purposely move her body so that her breast would fall from Erik’s mouth so he could follow her movements and catch it in his mouth again. That shit has her clit jumping. It had him so impatient that he takes both of his large hands, squeezing her large breasts, before sucking her nipples back and forth. Not one breast got more attention over the other. Each one got a good suck, lick, and nibble.

“Erik, damn, you got my pussy wet as fuck,” Yara bites her lip, a hand on the back of his head and her thighs squeezing his waist, “That long, thick tongue and those juicy ass lips...damn, you got my titties feeling so good right now.”

Erik’s lips slowly release her right nipple, “These hard ass nipples on my tongue...got me feeling good too, dick is harder than a motherfucker.”

“Put your lips on my pussy again like you did,” Yara shimmied her hips, moving her body further up the bed so that her pussy was in his face again, “Look what you just did to my pussy, Erik,” she wines.

“That phat motherfucker is ready, ready...Mr. king daughter is a freak.”

“Yara giggles,” what my Dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Oooh, I like that.” Erik gave Yara all of his thick tongue and lips. He was french kissing her pussy, delivering licks and sucks at the same time. She just laid back, her fingers twirling her still hard nipples while Erik devoured her beautiful pussy. Yara’s wet pussy was slipping and sliding against Erik’s tongue.

“Got my face buried in this sweet little pussy...this what you dreamed about the night you kissed me?”

Was he reading her mind while making her moan with his skilled tongue? She definitely did dream about him catching her in bed rubbing her clit with his name rolling off of her tongue. She surely did envision him tiptoeing in, closing her door shut softly, and sneaking up on her. She could picture it now while he sucked on her clit, his hand pushing her hand away and replacing it with his mouth. The startled feeling she felt in her dream, Yara could feel that when she woke up the next morning. Her pajama shorts were soaked between her legs. What Erik didn’t know about Yara was that even though she was a virgin, she sucked a high school friend turned boyfriend's dick, just so she could get a taste of something sexual without getting her walls broken in. Erik left her horny and curious for sex.

“You wanted me to eat this sweet young pussy that night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Yara found herself saying. She never called another guy daddy but Erik deserved that title.

“You had on that little skirt too,” Erik sucks on two fingers, bringing them down so he can finger-fuck her, “wish I stuck my head up your skirt and ate this pussy?”

“Fuck yes,” Yara’s head went back, “Fuck...you’re stuffing me.”

“This ain’t nothing…” Erik’s fingers played around with her G-spot, “you wanna know how I would have eaten that pussy?”

Erik was playing into her fantasy. This entire situation was risky as fuck because Micheal could walk into that apartment at any moment and wonder where Erik was. Both Erik and Yara knew that Micheal could be long-winded but still, she knew they weren’t supposed to be doing this, and that made it even more exciting. Yara replies with a Mhm while Erik’s fingers slid in and out of her now creamy pussy.

“I would have made you stand up with your hands pressed against the wall, your ass pushed out towards my face while I run my tongue in and out of both of your holes.”

“That’s so sexy,” Yara moaned softly when Erik’s lips were back on her clit with his fingers still inside of her, “I wouldn’t be able to hide my moans...my dad would have heard everything…” Yara giggles then gasps from Erik sucking on her clit. She was about to cum, she could tell with how sensitive and tingling her clit became with each suck and thrust of his fingers.

“Then Mr. King would know how much of a slut his daughter is,” Erik added some tongue into the mix, Yara’s back bending from the sensation.

The intensity of Erik’s motions reached a high point and now Yara is convulsing, releasing her cum all over Erik’s fingers. With his fingers still inside of her, Erik uses his tongue to clean her off everywhere else. Yara almost forgot how exciting and satisfying it felt to cum. Erik’s fingers slide out and instead of sucking her off of his fingers, he brings them to her mouth for her to do it. Yara opened her mouth graciously, Erik’s fingers running up and down her tongue. Yara’s lips wrapped around his fingers to suck them clean. She tasted sweet with a bit of tang.

“That shit is good, ain’t it? Bet this is how you clean yourself off you nasty girl,” Erik’s hand grabs the back of Yara’s head, pulling her in so that he could kiss her. Her taste was still on his tongue. His lips overpowered hers but that didn’t stop Yara from keeping up with him. She would suck all on his lips with each kiss, practically bruising them in the process. He’s a sloppy kisser, not sloppy as in unpleasant. He knows how to kiss that’s for damn sure, he just likes to leave his mark by adding extra saliva to the mix. Yara’s chin was covered in it the more her body felt dizzy and unsteady from his kisses.

“Touch what I’m beating this puss up with,” He spoke against her lips. Yara’s hand went down between his legs, grabbing him through his boxers. She wanted to scream a giant YES to the ceiling. That big black dick in her hand was so electrifying for her. Just stroking him through his boxers while they kissed made her mouth water and her opening twitch.

“After you get this dick, little Yara, you won’t want dick from any other nigga.”

She believed it. Yara wanted to see how he looked now. Feeling it already has her in a puddle of her own juices, there is no telling how much more drenched she will be when she gets that dick in her mouth and in her guts. Was this really happening? Was she really about to suck her brother's best friend's dick? Was she really about to fuck her brother’s best friend? Yara slips her hand inside of Erik’s briefs, her fingers stroking past his groomed pubic hair before wrapping around his abundant shaft. She just held his length in her hand in full disbelief that she is touching his dick.

“How bad do you wanna get that throat fucked right now?”

“Really bad,” Yara says with a whisper as if Mike were in the next room, “I won’t hesitate to put it in my mouth, daddy, I wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

“Show me, don’t tell me, little Yara.” Erik went flat on his back, Yara’s eyes falling to the big tent in the front of his briefs. She gets on her knees, taking both of her hands to pull his briefs down. When she did, Yara smiled before biting her lip. Yara grabs him up fully, his long, beautiful black dick standing straight up in her face all nice and hard. Yara still has the T-shirt around her hair to soak up the water so she didn’t need to tie her hair up like she usually did. Leaning forward, Yara licks the tip of Erik’s dick, unable to hide the smile on her face.

“After I had that dream about you, I asked this guy I graduated with if I could come over to...you know...suck his dick,” Yara looks over at Erik while taking him into her warm, little mouth. Erik’s eyes closed one after the other while a deep, satisfying moan escaped his mouth.

“Goddamn girl, that dream had you going out to suck some dick?” He couldn’t keep his eyes open for a second with the way Yara was sucking on the tip of his dick while jerking his shaft with a twist of her wrist.

“Mhm,” She hummed, concentrating with all her energy on sucking his dick up, showing Erik her skills. With each suck, Erik’s dick seemed to wake up more and more. She was sucking on a master level that Erik had never experienced from another woman. Her lips were a weapon of mass destruction. Now, Yara’s hands were on the bed and she was sucking Erik’s dick with just the strength of her jaws.

“Do that shit girl, I needed this shit right here,” Erik sat up on one elbow, reaching out with his other hand to pull the T-shirt from around her hair so that he could pull on it, “I love how you suck dick, Yara, who taught you this?”

She didn’t respond, too busy trying to slobber all over his dick. She wasn’t about to stop especially when something she thought about doing for a long time was finally happening for her and making her gobble. She was sucking his long, heavy dick so deep her lips almost touched his balls.

“Your lips were made to suck dick that’s why you do it with so much passion...you ain’t even gotta tell me.”

Erik needed her to know how good she was making him feel. Erik strokes her damp hair back, while trying to keep it together from the way Yara’s lips tightly suctioned his dick. This girl was inhaling his dick, moaning, blinking her eyes at him like she wasn’t currently sucking a fat black dick. He was afraid to bust a nut now, wondering if his cum would shoot out of her nose with how deep she was taking him. No wonder why she kept telling him she isn’t little. Yara’s hand grabbing Erik’s balls had him sitting up fully now. She didn’t warn him, just grabbed his nuts in her hand and started stroking them to life. They grew tight in her hand the more she stroked and she did all of this while still sucking his dick. Yara enjoyed sucking dick since the first time it happened for her after the wet dream she had about Erik. She especially loves the reactions he gave her whenever she sucked his dick or tugged gently on his balls. The throbbing of his dick, the stiffness of his body, the look on his face, his moans, the way he pulled on her hair.

“You got this dick all in your throat, that’s a good girl, I love a bitch who can throat this dick.” She took that as a badge of honor, aiming to milk his dick like the nasty little bitch she is.

“swallow your whole dick when you cum or just keep suckin’ on the head?”

“Do whatever you want girl, I don’t care, as long as you suck on this dick like you been doing it doesn't matter to me.”

She knew that Erik was shocked beyond words at seeing Yara sucking his dick like that. He had no clue she was this freaky. Why didn’t he come back to town sooner? He could have experienced this killer head months ago. He was cumming and Yara didn’t stop to take a breath. At this point she could feel his dick thickening in her mouth. With a guttural groan, Erik finally gives Yara what she worked so hard for. The force of his cum pushing out of his beautiful tool into her wanting mouth, passing into her throat and down into her tummy had her love that dick like he was her man.

“Fuck, you drained my shit, you really missed me,” Erik’s dick was twitching in her hand, “Bend over on this bed, I’m tryna see what that pussy do now.”

Yara bends over the bed, her back making a crescent moon shape. Erik stood from the bed behind Yara, pulling her by her hips so that she was closer to the edge of the bed. He was ready to give Yara balls deep, long strokes in her pussy. He couldn’t wait to see what her pussy felt like, so much that he didn’t take his time. Erik took hold of his dick in one hand, a handful of Yara’s ass in the other, and then with his hips Erik slid himself inside in one clean motion. Yara looked back at Erik, an enraptured look on her face.

“Got dayummmmmm,” He dragged out.

He had to extend his hand out and grab hold of her hair, yanking it back and making her arch deeper. That was perfect because Yara is much shorter than Erik and he needed that ass as high as possible so he could fuck her better like her pussy was a bottomless pit. Yara didn’t have time to breathe when Erik started stroking her pussy. She couldn’t express how much she needed him to get her this soaked and bust her pussy open. She was sweating from all the shaking her body was doing.

“Getting that pussy fucked from the back is your favorite huh? Look at you, give me that pussy girl,” Erik smacks her ass, “that ass is fat and firm.”

“Damn, daddy,” Yara kept saying the more Erik’s dick went in and out of her at a moderate pace, “Damn, daddy. Damn, daddy. Damn, daddy. Damn, daddy.”

While Yara was getting her pussy fucked on the edge of her bed, her cell was ringing. She didn’t care about that with all that dick in her stomach. He wasn’t even going at the pace he wanted to yet. Fuck, he was long stroking her pussy. Yara grabs for her sheets, Erik letting go of her hair to grab a hold of her hips. He started blowing Yara’s back out and she threw it back on him just as hard. It was hot, sweaty, and perfect. Her heart was racing from the thought of Mike walking in at any moment and how good he felt inside of her.

“Slut me out, daddyyyyyyy!!,” Yara shouts.

“Shut the fuck up,” Erik spoke roughly, “all that fuckin’ yelling, speak that shit into the pillow, ma.”

“I can’t help it, mmmmmmm, shit,” She couldn’t keep her mouth shut, “oh MY!!!!”

Yara’s shimmering, jiggling ass was hypnotic. Her sweat was dripping down the middle of her back and down the crack of her ass.

“FUCK.” He said.

Pap, pap, pap, pap, pap, pap, was the sound made the more Erik pounded her chocolate cakes. Yara creamed on his shaft the more he beat her tight pussy in. She was grown like she said, and she was proving that to him the more he fucked her. Bang bang bang bang, it intensified.

“TAKE THIS DICK.”

“Yes-

“You hear your pussy? That pussy is wet as fuck, baby girl...this ain’t even your pussy anymore this is my pussy,” the bounce of her ass had Erik going crazy, “THATS RIGHT BABY Make it rain on this dick.”

Yara was squirting on his dick and Erik just kept on beating that pussy up from behind.

“You better let me get this pussy again, Yara,” It was an order. Yara was throwing that ass with tenacity, “Dirty slut, nasty fucking slut, taking this big black dick, fat fucking pussy creaming all over my fucking dick, my favorite kind of pussy.”

Yara was throwing her pussy the whole time they fucked without stopping. Erik’s dick was nothing but steel covered flesh the longer he fucked her. He wanted to tear Yara ass up in multiple positions on her bed but he knew that would take all night and Mike would be back soon. He could feel himself ready to explode the more she soaked his dick with her pussy.

Unh! Oooo! Ah! Shit! Yes!

She was moaning on a loop for Erik. He was fucking her fast and hard until she came all over his dick again. He was right behind her, his hands so heavy on her hips that he was pushing her down onto the bed. She was going to feel this in the morning.

“Fuck...show me who’s daddy,” she says, “I’ve always wanted you to fuck me like this! Oh goddd!”

“I wish I could do it all night long, baby-

“Take me with you, FUCKKKKKK!!!!!”

“Goddamn, Yara, shit, I’m about to cum in your pussy-

“Fuck this tight pussy up daddy!!!”

“Arrrgghhhhhhh SHIT.” Erik was filling Yara’s pussy full of cum. He didn’t want to pull out of her pussy.

“Oh my, God,” She spoke breathlessly. “That dick feels so good, baby.”

“Big girls need big dick,” Erik says before his dick slipped out of her pussy. He was still hard and it wasn’t going to go down for the rest of the night. Yara pushes Erik’s cum out of her pussy so that he could see how much filled her up. He spanked her ass for that.

“Yara...I swear to fucking God...don’t make me fuck you like the nasty fucking slut you are.”

“I can call out of work, we can finish this at your place,” Yara was already going to be late, might as well get dressed and go with Erik.

“Can’t, baby girl, I’m not staying at my own spot right now,” Erik looked like he didn’t want to talk about it, “I don’t have your number, let’s exchange and we can try to make plans...you still gotta go to work right?”

“I’m gonna be late,” Yara is off of her bed now, grabbing a folded sleep shirt to pull over her body. “Like thirty minutes late. Unless I take an Uber.”

“I’ll take you.”

Yara didn’t give Erik time to get dressed with how quickly she was on him. They were kissing, once again the risk of Micheal walking in the last thing on their minds.

“Yara,” Erik grabs her hair, “Come on, get dressed, I’ll take you to work.”

Yara reluctantly pulled away so Erik could get dressed. He quickly pulled on his jeans without worrying about his briefs, grabbed his shirt and jacket in one hand and walked to Yara’s door. Erik opened it carefully, peeking out in the hall towards the living room. A sigh of relief came from him and that’s when he turned back inside of Yara’s bedroom, unzipped his pants and allowed them to fall around his feet.

“Suck this dick, girl,” He points to the floor, “On your fucking knees.”

Yara was on her knees and sucking his dick in time.

____________

“You good, my G? You’ve been MIA for over a week now.”

Mike was in the middle of cooking some spicy chicken ramen noodles while talking on the phone with Erik. Yara was hanging around in the living room watching TV with her eyes staring straight ahead into the kitchen at Mike’a back. He had a durag on his head, a black T-shirt, and some drawstring shorts on. He laughs into the phone while stirring his noodles around in the pot with a fork.

“So you found your place then? That’s what’s up! When are you moving your shit out of CeCe’s place?”

That name made Yara roll her eyes. Just like Mike, she hadn’t spoken to Erik in a while too. For her it was two days straight. He would call her during the afternoon or late at night to see how she was doing with school and just life in general. Of course, their conversations turned freaky but neither of them acted on anything since he came over that Friday night. It was mainly because of where he stayed and then Mike was always home doing freelance work. Yara couldn’t sleep in her bed without thinking about her and Erik having sex. It took her all weekend before she changed her sheets. His cologne and natural musk was threaded in the fabric.

“You know my mama is having a family thing at her place tomorrow, you wanna come through? I told her you were back and she wants to see you.”

Yara’s eyes lit up. At first she didn’t want to go to her moms since she couldn’t stand her step-father's side of the family minus her step-cousin, Lauren, but now that Erik could possibly show up, Yara was counting down the long minutes. She had a lot of packing to do, looking through her wardrobe for whatever eye-catching fits. Yara caught Michael’s eye and he stuck his tongue out at her teasingly. Yara shakes her head at him before bringing her eyes back to the TV.

“Damn, she’s gonna be disappointment, man.”

Yara could feel her heart dropping to her stomach and a tiny frown pulled the corners of her lips down. Well, so much for looking forward to tomorrow.

“Yeah yeah well let me know if you change your mind, cuz… Aight, I’ll holla,” Mike hangs up, pocketing his cell.

“That was Erik?” Yara casually asks.

“Yeah, he found his place. He can’t make it tomorrow because he got some business to take care of.”

“Oh,” Yara tried to hide her saddened tone but Micheal caught that.

“What’s up with you sounding all sad?”

“Nothing,” Yara turns off the TV, “I’m going to my room. When my packages come just leave them on the table I’ll open them later.”

“Let me guess, a new pair of sneakers?”

“None of your fucking business,” Yara yelled over her shoulder while walking to her room. She closes her door, walking up to her bed before flopping down on it, pulling her phone from her pocket. She pulls up Erik’s contact, calling him up so that she could hear his voice for the first time that day. He picked up on the second ring, his voice sounding like an echo on the other end of the phone.

“Where are you?” Yara asks.

“Damn, hello,” He spoke defensively.

“Hi, E.” She smiles.

“...Mike didn’t tell you?”

“Why does Mike need to tell me? You have my number,” Yara says with an attitude.

“Yo...What’s your problem?”

“You gonna tell me where you are?” Yara completely ignores his question.

“Since you’re so pressed, little Yara, I’m walking through my new place, just getting a feel for it.”

“With the way your voice is echoing I’m sure it’s hella nice...can I come live with you?”

“Yara,” Erik laughs, “You gonna let Mike know about that? That nigga would have my neck.”

“I’m just playing,” Yara quickly changes the subject, “So...my mom is having a little something at her place this weekend...do you wanna come?”

“Uh, I don’t think I can. I would love to, but I already told Mike that I can’t.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Yara sighs, “I miss seeing your face.”

“I miss seeing your pretty face too...you’re in your room, right?”

“Yep, I’m by myself...why?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I can still feel those juicy ass lips sucking on my balls, you got daddy missing that deep throat, girl.”

“I’m happy you love my dick-sucking skills,” Yara giggles, “I can still taste your cum…I can still hear your sexy deep voice in my ear telling me you’re about to cum.”

“Shit, now I’m picturing you swallowing my whole dick at that moment...how is my pussy doing?”

“It’s been a minute...what do you think?”

“I’m thinking I need to hear that shit...put her on the phone.”

Yara turns over onto her back, putting her phone on speaker before pulling her biker shorts and panties down, spreading her thighs. She grabs her phone, bringing it down between her legs before taking her finger, inserting inside of herself before wiggling it around. The wet, smacking sounds of his puss could be heard through the phone. He waited until Yara was finished before talking again.

“Damn...that wet fucking pussy.”

“Mhm,” she says.

“You gon’ rub your pussy on my face next time I see you, pretty bitch?”

“Expect me to cum on your face, I’ll rub my clit all up and down that scruffy ass beard,” Yara giggles.

“Now how am I gonna get a taste?” Erik laughs.

“You will when I decide to sit on your tongue.”

“When you decide? You calling shots now? Taking this dick doesn’t make you in charge, Yara, I’m in charge and when I say sit that pussy on my lips you gon’ do it.”

“Just come over here and get this pussy,” Yara says while rubbing her clit.

“Girl if I come over their I would fuck you retarded...but nah you know Mike is home…”

“I guess you don’t want me to make eight inches of your dick disappear in my mouth and you know I don’t have a gag reflex so it would stay in my throat just like your dick would stay inside my pussy…”

“What about the rest of my dick? You got more to go, girl daddy is much bigger than that.”

“Like I said, no gag reflex, I’ll try.”

“I need you, my dick is dumb hard…too bad I can’t right now. I’m gonna be moving in my shit all damn day into tomorrow.” Erik groans.

“Okay, Erik,” Yara rolls over onto her side, “I’ll just see you whenever.”

“Don’t be like that, girl...I gotta go...I love you.”

Yara blushes, “I love you too with your annoying ass.”

“Aight, I’ll talk to you later, pretty girl, we can pick up where we left off.”

“K, bye,” Yara spoke softly into the phone before hanging up.

He said that he loved her. He had love for her, true, but it would feel better if it was romantic love. Hearing him say the words were enough though, Yara couldn’t stop blushing into her pillow.

_______________

Being back at her mom’s place brought back bittersweet feelings. Yara knew her brother wouldn’t end things properly with Evette, Yara had to endure her brother having sex almost the entire night. Evette’s hair is no longer bright red. She dyed it hot pink. The color job wasn’t perfect which shocked Yara because Evette is supposed to be a licensed cosmetologist with her own shop and everything. She was driving since Mike wanted to freely roll up his blunt and drink his Henny without worrying about being the designated driver. When they pulled up, Their mother’s house was already packed full of cars. It’s probably her step-father’s side of the family. Yara did however smile when she noticed the big red Cadillac Escalade. That was Yara’s step-cousin, Lauren’s truck.

“Damn, where the fuck am I supposed to park? On the grass?” Evette complains while sucking her teeth.

“Just park one house down, Evette, ain’t no thing,” Mike places his blunt behind his ear.

“Easy for you to say, nigga, you ain’t driving.”

“You’re the one that said it was cool, don’t pull that shit.”

“Are y’all gonna argue the entire time we’re here?” Yara finally says before opening her door to exit when Evette parked. Neither of them responded to her which was better since hearing their voices the entire ride over annoyed her to an end. Yara pulls out her keys, finding the exact one to her mother’s place while walking up to the house.

It was spacious, open living both indoors and out with this exquisite Steve Kubitschek-designed Craftsman home. Located at the top of a private cul-de-sac in the tight-knit Woodside Glen community of 21 modern homes, it's a hidden gem in Oakland's leafy Montclair neighborhood. Yara couldn’t deny it, she enjoyed the fabulous open layout with upscale touches, including a gourmet island kitchen with breakfast nook, great room with gas fireplace, and luxurious master suites with a soaking tub and views of the Bay. She used to sit out on the expanded deck, studying while being surrounded by the apple, apricot and fig trees her mother planted. Behind the yard is a little-known trailhead into Joaquin Miller Park's 500 acres of redwood groves and lush creeksides where Yara used to hike and bike ride.

“Mama!!!” Yara yelled when they entered.

She could smell her mother’s cooking. Her eyes looked up at the soaring 14 foot ceilings, and around at the newly decorated home. Her mother finally took her advice and decided to change the boring, puke green. It was a beautiful design with earth tones that matched her mother’s green thumb energy. Every fresh herb, vegetable, and fruit her mother cooked with came from her garden. Sometimes she would go to her local Trader Joe’s or Farmer’s Market. Evette oo’ed and ahhh’ed behind Yara the further they walked inside. Climbing a small set of stairs that led into the kitchen, Yara found her mother chatting it up with a few of her step-father’s sister’s with a glass of white wine in her hand. The patio door was open so that meant that everyone else was out back, her step-father probably grilling up steaks, ribs, and home-made burgers patties.

“YARA!” Her step-Aunt, the youngest of the three, Benita says. She gave Yara a veneer smile before stretching her arms out for a hug. Yara gives her a quick hug.

“Hey baby,” Yara’s mom, Kendra says before kissing her daughter’s curly head, “Are you gonna stay with me this weekend?”

“Yes, mama, I have my bag in the car, hello Stacey,”

“Hello,” Stacey is Benita’s sister. She’s stand-offish but not like Yara could be, she did that because she didn’t care for Yara. Stacey is Lauren’s mom. Lauren couldn’t stand her mother for many reasons.

Mike and Evette greet everyone as well while Yara goes out back to say hello to the others. She decided to be nice and give her stepdad a hug before practically running up to Lauren. Lauren is a literal sweetheart. She’s the same age as Yara and she’s a nurse. Lauren’s pretty features reminded Yara of Saweetie a little bit. She came with her boyfriend that Yara only met once before named KC, he has features that remind Yara of Omarion. Both girls caught up with each other like old times, laughing, gossiping, and sharing good news. Yara didn’t see not one family member that was blood, all were married into the family. She didn’t feel too disappointed, it was still pretty early and her family can be known to be fashionably late.

Back in the house, Yara asks Evette to open her car so that Yara could get her bag out. Once she came back inside, Yara found her old room, sitting her bag on the bed that was neatly made. She has her own bathroom in her room with a jacuzzi tub. She couldn’t wait to unwind and take a bubble bath. Walking back out and down the steps, Yara could make out her mother screaming excitedly at the top of her lungs. Yara went down the remaining steps two at a time before making her way towards the kitchen speedily. Yara couldn’t believe who had just arrived after saying he wouldn’t be able to show up. She wanted to punch him in his pretty face.

“ERIK! LOOK AT YOU!!” Kendra was amazed while she looked at Erik. He simply smiles, showcasing his deep dimples and bright white smile with gold slugs on his bottom canines. His curly fro looked extra moisturized, the coils neatly placed and springy and he is fresh from head to toe as usual.

“It’s good to see you Miss. Kendra.”

His deep voice… Yara had to control her legs from shaking.

“Voice all deep, muscles, the hair!!! My God is this really my son’s best friend?!” Kendra pulls Erik in for another hug, “I’m so glad you came! You have to stay with me this weekend. Mike is staying too! It’ll be like old times when you used to spend the night.”

“I packed an overnight bag.”

Yara inwardly cheered.

“Yara? Come say hi to Erik,” Kendra says, ushering Yara over with a quick wave of her hand.

“I saw him like a week ago, mama,” Yara came over anyway, giving Erik a hug, “Glad you came.”

“Erik, can you believe this is Yara? I mean, she used to be so petite! Now she has more hips than me! She was little Yara to you, what are you gonna call her now, huh?”

“I’ll have to think of a new nickname,” Erik looks Yara up and down. Yara can tell he was trying his hardest not to appear obvious with his attraction towards her, “She’s a woman now.”

“Mhm, I have to keep reminding myself that she is 21 now,” Kendra pouts while smoothing her hand over Yara’s face.

“Where is your new husband? I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet,” Erik says, stopping Kendra from crying.

“Oh, he’s out back, come with me,” Kendra loops her arm through Erik’s, walking him out back. Yara lets out a shaky breath. He’s here and he’s going to spend the night. Perfect, now, they didn’t need to sneak around and fuck without suspicion, he’s sleeping here. They would just have to be a little quiet. That won’t be a problem, the walls are soundproof thanks to her stepfather. Yara lingered near the patio door, listening to her step dad, mother, and Erik talk.

“This is Fred. Fred, this is Mike’s childhood friend, Erik.”

They shake hands. Yara caught Erik’s eye. He winked at her and that motion shot straight to her clit. This event couldn’t be over fast enough. Yara knew it was going to take a while since it just started and family tends to linger even after it’s over. Time went on and everyone mingled and danced before the food was finally ready. Inside, an assembly line of people with plates wrapped around the kitchen and dining room. Everyone wanted to talk to Erik. He couldn’t even sit in the fire pit outside and enjoy his meal without someone holding a conversation with him and that included Mike to Evette’s dismay, she occupied most of her time on her phone.

Erik couldn’t keep his eyes off of Yara whenever they crossed paths. Heart shaped face, dimple in her chin, glittering eyes fringed with long eyelashes that reminded him of maple syrup, silken skin like cinnamon, ebony ringlets that made her thick but arched brows pop, lips full and glossy with a prominent Cupid’s bow. Clearly, Yara was the stunner out of all the women at that gathering that wanted his attention. Short, shapely legs oiled down, little denim skirt on, and a clingy top that struggled to keep her pendulous breasts in place. Each time she reached for her plate or cup it would put her curvaceous breasts on display. Shit, with the way Erik was staring at her he wouldn’t complain if they had spilled out right into his hands.

Yara noticed how the other women, no matter how old or young made it their duty to keep Erik company. Whenever Yara came near him, she would touch his arm or shoulder, and each time, Erik felt something surge through his body. He couldn’t decide if it was static electricity or his own lust playing tricks on him. She was putting on a show for real. Yara would sashay through the yard and Erik could tell it was on purpose. Her hips had him stunned. Yara had a butt that swooped out in the precise amount of curvature. There is nothing comparable to the well-shaped butt of a black woman.

______________

Yara was two plates full and on her second cup of Ciroc with lemonade. She had just finished doing the Cupid shuffle, more than excited to join especially since some of her blood relatives arrived. She looked around the yard and noticed Erik, Mike, and Evette are missing. They probably all went on a smoke break out front. When Yara went looking, she didn’t spot them out front at all. She knew they couldn’t be in the house because Yara’s mom didn’t like smoking in her house since it left a lingering smell. Yara finally decided to walk the trail that she usually did when she lived there. Sure enough, Mike, Evette, Erik, and one of her annoying ass step-cousins, Lyric, were smoking weed and shooting the shit. Mike gave Erik a look while passing him the blunt before tilting his head in Lyric’s direction.

Lyric is cute, but she’s not Yara. Erik gave her a quick once over before shrugging a single shoulder. Yara didn’t like that. She wanted to see him shake his head not shrug a shoulder like he wasn’t sure. All this good pussy Yara has to offer he better come correct. She turned away to leave but once again, Mike’s keen eyes caught her before she could make her exit.

“You have a serious habit of sneaking up on niggas and spying,” Mike jokes, causing Lyric to snort a laughter.

“Shut up, fool, I was just wondering where y’all went, that’s all,” Yara walked up to them all, avoiding Erik’s eyes. He was probably giving her a teasing smile.

“You don’t even smoke.”

“And?” Yara takes a sip of her drink, “Now that I know where y’all are, I’m gonna head back.”

“Uh-huh, I keep forgetting your 21 now with that drink in your hand.”

“Why does my age have to be the topic of conversation? I’m sick of that shit.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you in over two years. Last time you were 19 so,” Lyric finally speaks up.

“Whatever, I’m out,” Yara turns, walking back up the trail that led to the house. She was bothered and she wanted to be alone for a little bit. Erik brought up her age, then her mother, then a few other family members, then Mike, and then Lyric. It was giving her a headache.

The event slowed down and the family that did stay later gathered around the big fire pit in her mother’s yard to talk and drink. Yara was seated between Erik and Mike. She was feeling her drink and it was peaceful. Yara loves that stage of being tipsy where you’re completely coherent and know exactly what's going on but you feel so loose and free at the same time and your typing skills blow but you can feel the blood flowing throughout your entire body and it's just warm and fuzzy and nice and amazing.

It was dark minus the warm, low, glow of the yard lights and the fire making all the melanin surrounding her have an orange glow. She glances up at Erik and he looks down at her, giving Yara a small smile before one arm comes up and around the back of her. She bites her lip, trying her hardest to appear discrete with how horny she felt. Yara shivers when she feels Erik’s fingers on the back of her neck, softly playing with the curls at the nape of her neck. Her lips parted and she brought her cup up to hide her soft sighs. Erik was dragging the flat part of his nails up and down the back of her neck. No one could see what he was doing since it was dark. Just when her nipples become erect, Erik stops, bringing his hand back down to rest in his lap.

Yara’s phone vibrates in her lap. She picks it up, her family's laughter surrounding her. Taking a look, she sees a message from Erik. She opens her phone, turning down the light so that it wasn’t too noticeable. Leaning back a little, Yara brings her phone closer to her face. She froze when she opened his message. Erik sends her a nasty gif of a girl taking a dick just as big as Erik’s while she was holding her legs up. She was creaming all over his dick while he fucked her slow.

Who’s daughter can I do this to tonight?

Yara closes her eyes. She brings her cup to her lips to hide her excitement. He really sexted her at this moment. He wanted to torture her, she would play along.

Miss Kendra’s daughter 💦

She could see him in her peripheral looking at her text. He starts typing.

I’m a tear up your insides.

Yara’s leg jerked.

I can always handle more.

Mike laughing loudly next to her startled her. She almost forgot where she was.

Okay, we’ll see. You looking good too. You gon’ have me in trouble girl cuz I’m not gonna be able to keep my dick out of you for a second.

That’s a challenge I’m willing to take daddy!

Yara’s phone buzzed a few times back to back

In the mood to be sucking on a fat clit n even fatter pussy lips 👅

Let me suck that pussy in my mouth... I’m nice and faded too. I'll eat you up Yara I wish you were over my face right now. You like how nasty I’m texting you while you’re surrounded by your family? They don’t know their little Yara likes to get her pussy ate and fucked with a big dick.

“Shit,” Yara spoke to herself. She wrapped a single arm around her belly to calm her butterflies. Yes, she did enjoy the nasty talk in front of her family. They were too busy talking to notice how antsy Yara is and all the squirming she was doing to get friction on her clit. She couldn’t sit there anymore.

“Leaving?” Kendra says to a few family members who are standing. After that others started filing out, saying their goodbyes and planning to do this again soon. Evette and Mike are all boo’d up, talking closely to each other. Yara stands, pulling her skirt down, and stepping over Evette’s feet to leave the fire pit.

“Going in, baby?” Kendra says.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a quick shower and relax, love you mama.”

“Love you too, I’m making a big breakfast tomorrow.”

Yara looked at Erik who was sitting there with low eyes from being cross faded. She wanted him to follow her but that would be too obvious. She walked as quickly as possible back inside of the house. No one was around so she stopped in the kitchen to grab some water and take a breather. Yara could hear footsteps behind her. She turns, coming face to face with Erik. Yara looked towards the patio, wondering if anyone followed him in.

“They are still outside, bend over real quick.”

“Erik,” Yara was scared to do it so out in the open.

“It’s okay, just bend over for me...I just wanna take a peek, I know that pussy is wet.”

“I don’t know-

“Yara, I’m not playing with you. You’ve been teasing me all day let me see that pussy.”

Yara looks towards the door again before turning around, pressing her body against the counter. Yara brings one thick leg up onto the counter top, her denim skirt riding up to reveal hot pink panties. Yara pulled the crotch of her panties to the side and right there sitting fat, lips forming a shape of a heart was Yara’s pussy. She takes two fingers, spreading her sticky lips for Erik to see.

“Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.”

He was behind her quickly, his fingers rubbing up and down her pussy. Stepping away, Erik sucks on his fingers.

“Soon as they leave I’m coming upstairs and I'm pounding that ass so good this whole house gon’ wake up.”

Yara takes her leg down, fixing her skirt. She did it just in time when some other family members walked in, waving goodbye. When they leave, Yara and Erik laugh at almost being caught.

________________

It was late, well past three in the morning. Yara was freshly bathed and in a T-shirt, her chocolate ringlets pulled up into a pineapple above her head. She knew her mom was probably in the kitchen doing some last minute cleaning so Yara didn’t want to look suspicious walking past her to go to Erik’s basement room. She had to wait another hour before texting Erik to come up stairs.

Which room?

Yara leaves her door cracked.

The door is cracked.

She tiptoed back to her bed after shutting off her bedroom lights, the only thing igniting her room is the glare from the TV.

Is your mom still down stairs? I could have sworn I heard her in the kitchen.

Yara took that as a sign to go check. She leaves her room at the same time her mother was walking down the hall with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Still hungry?” Kendra asks her daughter.

“No, just thirsty, mama.”

Kendra kisses her cheek before walking to her master suite, “Alrighty girl, goodnight, I’m gonna need it.”

“Night, mama.”

Kendra pushes her bedroom door opened, entering, then closing it shut all the way. Yara walks back to her room, picking up her phone to text Erik.

I’m coming down.

He instantly texts back.

Coming to me this time? Lol

SHUT UP!

Yara grabs her phone, leaving her room. She made sure her door was closed, she didn’t expect her mother to come knocking this late. Yara makes her way to the large basement, walking past her step father’s man cave and the home gym. There, straight ahead with the door cracked is where Erik is staying. Yara pushes open the door slowly. Peeking her head inside. Erik is laying back on the bed with one foot hanging over the edge, the other propped up and swinging from side to side. He’s completely naked and Yara could see his used towel hanging on a hook behind the half bathroom door with a standing shower.

“Quick close that door,” Erik whispers.

Yara closes it, walking fully into the room only lit with a small table lamp. Erik sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling Yara into his arms. Their lips and tongues battled feverishly with pent-up passions. Their hands began to caress and explore each other’s body. Yara’s soft backside felt good as he grabbed each cheek and pulled her tightly against his groin. Her hands roamed across the muscles of his back and up to his shoulders. Erik broke the kiss to pull Yara’s T-shirt up and over her body, nothing underneath. His eyes landed on the breasts that teased him all night. Her dark, thick buds were tasty as his tongue rolled across her taut nipples, setting off her sensual murmurs of approval. The contrast of Erik’s russet skin against Yara’s café-au-lait complexion provided the ideal blend of colors.

“These big ass titties, and you ain’t have no bra on either,” Erik felt his bare dick wedge between the cheeks of Yara’s curvy ass.

“Why did you shrug about Lyric?” Yara asks while watching Erik suck on her titties.

“You caught that? Girl...I ain’t worried about her so why are you bringing her up? She’s cute...what did you want me to do tell Mike that I’m fucking his sister instead?”

“You should have just said you weren’t interested, Don’t play with me, Erik,” Yara warns him.

“Girl? You need to calm the fuck down, better yet, get on your knees. Let’s see if that gag reflex is real...swallow all ten inches of this dick.”

Yara didn’t move quick enough so Erik gave her a little push, Yara finally getting down on her knees. Erik’s freshly washed dick was in her hand again and Yara wasted no time spitting on him to lube him up before fitting his dick down her throat. She made it to eight inches before pushing further, his ten inches all the way down her throat now.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Erik spoke with a sotto voice, “suck that nut out, girl.”

Yara kept eye contact with Erik while she deep-throated him. She drew Erik’s dick from her mouth to spit on it some more. Yara repeated that gesture over and over, engulfing Erik’s throbbing dick then pulling it from her mouth. He tried to keep his grunts and moans as low as possible, but the danger of knowing that her mother was upstairs heightened the pleasure he was experiencing. Yara continued to moan while her lips were dragging up and down his dick. She starts using her tongue now, wiggling it under the tip of his dick.

“Damn, Erik, it’s so thick.” She says wit spit hanging from her lips.

Her hot mouth devouring his dick caused Erik’s eyes to roll shut. Yara sucked it in and out of her mouth again, letting it pop each time she withdrew her mouth from the head. Yara played with his dick as if it were her own personal joystick. Yara worked her mouth down Erik’s elongated staff, taking more than half of it in.

“It’s too big for my mouth,” she announced after withdrawing from his saliva-coated shaft, “But, I have another hole that I know can handle it.”

“Oh yeah? You make that sound like a challenge...drain my dick first and then we’ll see about that.”

Yara started sucking him into utopia again. Erik was reminded of her skills and it had him palming the back of her head so that he could fuck her throat. The entire night he had to conceal his hard dick in his jeans and when his dick is so stiff like that it pulsates painfully and his balls feel like their dragging. That means he’s going to cum damn near a bucket full until he’s fully emptied.

“Good girl, I needed this so bad you don’t even understand...had me changing my plans just so I can spend time with you.”

“Mmm,” Yara moans.

“Yes, suck that shit baby, fuck, yes, that’s how you do it, milk this dick girl, fuck, Yara,” Erik was struggling to be in control that his hand left the back of her head to grip the edge of the bed, “good bitch suck daddy’s dick, do what you love, suck this dick.”

Yara continues to swallow Erik’s dick while looking him innocently in the eyes. His face scrunched up and that’s when his thick dick erupted in Yara’s mouth. Erik didn’t even give her time to drain him fully as he lifted her off of the ground, his dick still leaking cum. Erik falls back on the bed, his hands roughly squeezing her ass while pushing her hips forward so that she could climb on top of his face. Yara didn’t even sit on his face fully before Erik’s lips were wrapped around her clit.

“Come on girl bounce that pussy on my tongue.”

Yara starts bouncing her ass, Erik’s thick, flat tongue swiping over her pussy each time she comes down on him. He ate her pussy like he craved that shit all the time. Erik’s hands are on Yara’s back, pushing her to keep those hips moving. She could feel nothing but lips and tongue down there. Now, Erik’s tongue is darting in and out of Yara’s pussy. Yara’s sexy voice moaning above him had his tongue flickering back and forth rapidly and applying so much pressure Yara is quivering and dripping all in his mouth. He wanted Yara to sit on his face all day and night

“Daddy, can I squat on your face like this all weekend? I like the way you suck on my pussy.”

“You know you got a place on my face, I’ll eat this pussy on sight,” Erik spoke briefly before he caused Yara’s pussy to drip on his tongue yet again.

“Unh, shit!!!” Yara shouts. Good thing the walls are soundproof because she would have woken up the entire house. She continued to cum in Erik’s mouth while this pussy eating monster kept on licking, “Erik, baby, fuck.”

Erik ended it with a suck to her clit before lifting from between her legs. Beard soaked, Erik leans down to kiss her with a grab of her jaw before pushing her down on the bed. Erik is on his knees now, positioning Yara on her back. He brings both of her legs straight up, instructing for her to keep them in the air. He was mimicking that gif that he sent her. Yara peeked around her legs at him, watching Erik take his fat dick in hand before pushing it between her thighs so that she could feel how much tighter her pussy is in this position. Yara’s eyes look up at the ceiling with her mouth falling open.

“That’s how I fucking do it baby,” he barked out.

“Umm, I love your hard dick,” Yara exclaimed while Erik strokes her, trying to push himself all the way in. He was having a hard time now with all her thigh meat so Erik spreads her thighs instead. The second he did that, Yara gasps, “oh, yes...yes-yes-yes-yes I feel that hard black dick,” her mouth went wide, “yes-yes-yes ummm fuck!!! You’re stretching the fuck out of my pussy,” Yara spoke through clenched teeth. Erik didn’t stop, that was a sign for him to pick up the pace and keep going.

“This is some deep pussy, you are creaming all over my dick, baby,” Erik struggled to keep her shaky legs open, “Stop all that shaking, girl,” Yara squealed over and over each time Erik bottomed out inside of her, “Yara, I’m not playing with you, keep that ass still so I can get in this pussy.”

“Oh, shit,” Yara covered her face, “Daddy.”

“You know you want it all, don’t fight it. Just lie there and let it happen. Say how much you want it all. ask daddy to pound my pussy and then see what happens.”

Yara may be thick but her body is little and lithe compared to Erik’s. She was being folded in half and now Erik was really filling her up, his balls slapping her ass and everything. Erik has all the time in the world now since last time. His dick is so big and so good Yara was cumming on him with no control over her body.

“Your mama ain’t raise no punk, you should see all this dick sliding in and out of this creamy fucking pussy,” Erik pulls out only to push himself back in fully, “when I say look I mean look, girl.”

“Fuck,” Yara lifts her head from the bed to watch Erik fuck her.

“You see how I’m filling this little pussy?”

“Unh,” Yara’s head fell back against the bed.

With each moan and shriek coming from Yara, Erik’s dick gets harder and bigger until it is swelled to a size that has Yara clawing at his abs. She’s going to keep cumming if he keeps this up.

“Yeah, fucking squeal, bitch you’re taking it all don’t care how much pain you’re in,” he was way past nice and easy, “Baby... daddy needs to train that pussy to take this dick when I go harder... you can’t always expect daddy to go slow you got some good pussy,” Yara squeals again, “I understand baby, just hold still and take it, you were doing so good...girl shut that shit up take this dick.”

She was cumming again. Yara pushes Erik away with her foot causing him to flip her on her stomach, arch her back, and then it was all she wrote. Erik has Yara’s hands behind her back, holding them softly, stroking her wrists with his thumbs but that dick was killing her pussy. That dick is literally in her ribcage. He was touching her cervix and she was squirting on him continuously like a running faucet. Pap, pap, pap, pap Was the sound of her cheeks just like the first time they fucked only this time Erik was going full throttle.

“Taking this dick like a champ, hold it just like that ima cum in my pussy.”

“Daddy, please cum,” Yara begged.

“I like how you sound begging me, take it baby, take it pretty girl, yesss, show daddy you can handle this dick, make daddy proud baby, that’s right, you a grown woman now right? Right? Show me how grown you are, throw that pussy back,” Yara gave it her all through her cries, “Mhm, fuck that dick.”

“Daddy, yes, fuck, please-please daddy!!!”

Yara tried but Erik was too impatient, hands on her hips now while he took control again. Yara was falling into the bed, losing her arch and Erik followed. He leans over her body, grabbing her by her jaw to kiss her while he stroked. She whimpered into his mouth the more his dick hammered her pussy and before she knew it he released her jaw, both of his hands planted on either side of her head. Yara grabs his wrists, her eyes squeezed shut and a multitude of moans rolling off of her tongue. Erik’s hips snapped into hers with speedy delight before he was cumming deep inside of her pussy. He slowed down, allowing Yara’s walls to grip him and drain him.

“Yara, shit,” Erik pulls out, rubbing the tip of his dick on her ass. He stayed over her for another minute before falling back on his knees, wiping the sweat from his nose that dripped. Yara was too weak to move.

“Yara, you good?” Erik asks while rubbing her back.

“I’m good,” She tried to move but her bottom half was paralyzed, “I don’t know how I’m gonna go back to my room now.”

“Just sleep here, I’ll set my alarm for like two hours from now and then you can go back up.”

“If I do that then I’m never going to leave,” Yara gently turns on her back, “I am so sore right now.”

“I’ll kiss your pussy,” Erik opens her thighs, “C’mere.”

Yara closes her eyes when Erik’s lips kiss her pussy. He started from her outer lips and then he went inward, holding her pussy lips open so he could kiss her inner folds and exactly over her aching hole. She could feel her legs being pushed back and that’s when she knew he was about to eat her pussy again.

“Erik?” she called to him with a questioning voice.

“It’ll get better...just be a good girl and cum in my mouth.”

Yara gave in.

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#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger #black panther killmonger #killmonger smut

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part two

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: thank you guys so much for the incredible response i got to part one!! it made me so happy so thank you. let me know wha yall think of this bit, we’ve got some plot going on which i always enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one

You don’t hear from Bucky for a while after the party. It’s disappointing - you’re self-aware enough to admit that. But you also aren’t stupid enough to expect anything else. Bucky asked you to that party as a favour, you got a one-night-only special being in his life and you’re not expecting anything else.

You had hoped it wouldn’t have impacted your nightly rendezvous, but those had stopped too. You suppose Bucky decided not to trust you after all.

Almost three weeks later and you’re at work, thoughts of Bucky barely a buzz in the back of your head compared to the job at hand. You’ve always been able to let your work consume you, and it pays off in your line of business. Being a private investigator requires attention to detail, lateral thinking, and a questionable moral compass. Your patented paranoia doesn’t hurt either. Your dad tells you every time you visit that he wishes you’d get into something more stable, something less dirty, but you’re not really good at anything else. Considering the majority of your clients are partners trying to figure out if their significant other is cheating, it also pays well for quite minimal effort.

Quick rule of thumb for aspiring PI’s: they’re almost always cheating.

Today is one of those clients. You’ve tailed the guy in question to a tattoo shop in Red Hook, which is already a red flag. He’s an investment banker and buys Louis Vuitton cufflinks for his ugly work suits. He stands out like a sore thumb in this grungy neighbourhood. You snap a few photos of him outside the store, very obviously checking left and right for a tail before entering the place. People suck at being subtle, you’ve come to realise over the years. And at being observant, because all you’ve bothered to do to hide is sit at the cafe across the road and pretend to be taking photos of the latte art on your coffee.

Entering the tattoo parlour is a no-go, even if your grunge aesthetic would fit in with the clientele more than your straight-laced prey. There are other ways, though. You leave some bills on the table and cross the street into the alley beside the tattoo shop, wrinkling your nose at the dumpster smell. There’s a fire escape which you can reach if you stand on the lid of the offensive dumpster in question, leading to a window you hope will get you some insight into what Mike Shorditch of suspected-cheating fame is up to. Maybe he has a tattooed, lip-ringed young girlfriend he meets here? Or a heavy-set biker boyfriend? Or he just wants a tattoo and his wife is as paranoid as you are.

Squeezed uncomfortably between the bars of the fire-escape, you manage to aim your camera lens at the window and zoom in - jackpot. It’s a small window near the ceiling of the high-roofed shop, letting in minimal light to ruin the dark aesthetic of the place, allowing you a somewhat clear view of the shop inside. It’s really nice, you notice, and they have good taste in music. Slowly Slowly bleeds minimally through the glass and you try focus your lens on the faces inside, catching Mike among them like a unicorn in a goth reunion. He’s talking to someone, waving his hands around dramatically while the guy he talks to towers over him, arms folded over a ginormous chest.

You know that face, you realise as you aim your lens a little higher. The shock burns, almost makes you drop your camera and fall off the fire escape you’re precariously lying on. It’s Steve, blonde head unmistakeable as he glares at your target and dismisses whatever Mike says to him with an eyeroll. Without questioning it, you snap a few photos of Steve’s imposing figure - so at odds with the friendly, downright cuddly man you met at the party a few weeks ago. Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of thoughts about that night, they show up at your work. How is this possible?

None of this sits right with you. This strange coincidence, the weird behaviour at the party towards Bucky and his friends, Bucky’s general evasiveness and the feeling you get of being watched just being around him. Nothing is adding up and you’ve never been the kind of person to leave well enough alone. You snap photos of the shop, as much as you can - Steve’s tattoo sleeve that had been hidden under a jumper at the party, the stencils lining the walls, the locks on the front door, the counter where a scrawny kid in glasses bends over what looks like genuine high-school homework and ignores the adults in the shop. There are too many variables - you have to start making sense of one of them.

The easiest thread to pull is Mike, and he’s the one you’re being paid to solve, so it makes sense to start there. Clearly it isn’t cheating his wife should be worried about, but the meeting he’s having with Steve and the others doesn’t look like a friendly catch up with friends either. His personal cybersecurity is poor enough you figure you’ll be able to solve that particular mystery easy enough.

Bucky and his friends, however? That’s going to take a bit more digging.

***

According to Mike Shoreditch’s bank records, he owes somebody a lot of money. You get this from an account his wife doesn’t even know he has, believing all their money goes into a shared account with a completely different bank. Mike has a lot of secrets but cheating isn’t one of them - the print outs of his secret bank account statements and the pictures of him at Steve’s tattoo parlour would be enough for you to close the case and get your money. But you don’t. Not just yet. You have your own itch to scratch, now.

You’ve taken to watching the tattoo shop’s comings and goings, snapping pictures here and there. Steve comes in at ten in the morning, ready to open the shop up by lunchtime for customers and doesn’t close it until midnight. His customers are the usual sort you’d imagine at a rough tattoo shop in Red Hook - heavy set guys with full sleeves and chest pieces, grungy couples who probably live upstate but are rebelling against their trust-fund parents, random walk-ins who’s nerves you can sense from across the street at what’s become your usual table. There are a few, though, who stand out. Leather jackets and motorbikes they park in the alley beside the shop, using the back entrance you snap a shot of one night once they all went home.

You’re not jumping to conclusions just yet, you’ve learnt the hard way from doing that, but you’re also not stupid. Whatever Steve is into, whatever Bucky is by association a part of, there are some shady looking people involved as well.

It’s one of those days where you’re watching the shop from the cafe, camera left on the table in favour of devouring an almond croissant and cataloguing the people you’ve now dubbed regulars at Steve’s as they enter the shop. You should probably be doing your actual job but you can’t bring yourself to, too caught up in the shady business across the street from you. Absorbed, in fact, so you practically jump out of your skin as your phone rings and you send it flying to the pavement with an errant elbow.

You pick up without checking the ID, and boy was that a mistake. Heart pounding painfully in your chest, you answer, “Hi, hello, hi, this is (Y/n) speaking,” all in a rush.

A familiar, honey-warm laugh rumbles down the phone to you and your previously racing heart all but stops beating. Bucky says, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Does he know? Had Steve caught you spying and called Bucky asking why the random girl he brought to a party that one time was stalking him? You glance around the street, half expecting Bucky to be standing behind you and catching you red-handed. He’s not, of course he’s not, you’re just losing your mind a little bit.

“No, no, sorry,” you say, running a shaky hand through your hair. “I’m at work. What’s up?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and you hate how the rough catch of his voice through the phone all but erases the suspicions you have for him, warning you to stay away. You had missed him, is all. He says, as if plucking the thought from your brain, “I was missing you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glad he can’t see the grin you send to the table. “That why you disappeared after the party?”

“Let me explain over drinks?” Bucky asks, dodging your jab with ease. No, no, no, don’t be stupid, he’s bad news and you’ve got the proof, don’t-

“You’re paying,” you say instead, silencing the smart side of your brain.

“Always do,” he says, which is blatantly not true but whatever, “Nine at Joey’s?”

“See you there,” you say, and hang up before you can do anything else stupid.

You bury your hands in your hair, leaning your elbows on the table and letting out a frustrated sound probably inappropriate for a public place. How are you going to go meet Bucky and pretend you aren’t, essentially, investigating his best friend? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you use this to get more answers, full-stop some of the question marks that have been playing havoc with your head all week.

And sex. You’re not going to pretend you won’t be ending up in Bucky’s bed again, shady secrets be damned.

***

Joey’s is a divey, underground bar you absolutely adore, and you’ve met Bucky here multiple times. He introduced you to the place, actually, a week or so into meeting up him. He’d laughed at how excited you were over the movie posters they used as decor behind the booths, the bartender who squeezed fresh apple juice into your shot of Jameson, the dirty bass-heavy music you eventually convinced him to dance with you to. Bucky is clearly trying to win you over by meeting you here, and you can’t say it’s not working. Just a little bit. You’ll still make him work for it.

Bucky’s got a booth at the back when you arrive, two whiskey apple’s already waiting on the table as he stands up to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, not letting you set the tone at all, but you can’t find it in you to mind as you’re crushed into his chest and he rests his stubbly chin atop your head. He smells nice, reminding you of spiced rum or something else warm and comforting, and his hands feel real nice as they dip under your top to press against your bare skin. Had you really missed him this much? You squeeze him tightly, ignoring the thump of your heart as he starts rubbing circles into your back, and you stand there in his arms for far too long to be appropriate.

Pulling away, though, feels like you’ve lost something.

Across the booth from you, now, Bucky slides a drink towards you with his usual cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, popping the straw in your mouth and looking out at the bar so you can pretend not to pay attention to him. He bumps your foot under the table but you ignore him, hiding your smirk in the rim of your glass.

“Doll,” he says, exasperated, and reaches across the booth to place his giant hand on the arm you have resting on the table. You look at him then, scrunching your nose up at the pet name which makes him smile. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, all soft and blurry blue, and you feel yourself forgetting why you’re supposed to be mad at him in the first place.

“What,” you say, mimicking his tone just to watch his jaw clench. His frustration is hot, what of it? You love winding him up like this.

“Brat,” he retorts, and oh, that makes you feel something you probably shouldn’t, all low and coiled hot in your belly. “Did you think I was avoiding you?”

“You were avoiding me,” you correct, raising your eyebrows at him. He hasn’t let go of your arm, now taking to rubbing his thumb back and forth across the leather of your jacket. You refuse to let it melt you.

“I was away,” he says, eyes sparkling. He’s practically laughing at you, which is- rude. You huff, barely believing him, and he says, “I was! Did you want me to tell you I was going or something?”

“No,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. You sigh - he’s right, what did you expect? Nothing, and yet you were put out anyway, but that’s a problem you’ve got to deal with on your own. Bucky doesn’t owe you anything and he knows it. You relax, finally, putting your drink down to cover Bucky’s hand with your own. You smile, say, “I’m just messing with you, Bucky.”

“Sure you are,” he says easily, but you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s dropped, then, forgotten as you sit there staring at each other in the dim light of the bar. You really had missed him, even if you still barely knew him. His stubbly jaw, the close-cropped sides of the new haircut he’d gotten since you’d last seen him, the glint of his dog togs against tanned skin disappearing under his t-shirt. The swirl of his chest piece peeking out from the neckline, and you can fill in the blanks because you’ve seen what’s under that t-shirt. You’ve traced your tongue over it, as well as every other inch of him you’re trying to memorise in case another month passed before you saw him again. If you ever saw him at all.

“What?” you ask when you realise he’s starting to smile at you, holding back a laugh. He shakes his head, looking down to pick up his drink and take a sip. You lean back, retracting yourself from his grip and folding your arms across your chest - he’s making fun of you, you know it, but you don’t know why. He does laugh then, also leaning back in his seat and regarding you with that head tilt that infuriates you.

“Nothing,” he laughs, eyes saying the opposite. “It’s just- it’s nice to see you.”

“You going soft on me, tough guy?” you tease, but he sobers at your words, the smile dying on his pillow-plump lips. He stares you down, that deep thing that reminds you how easy it is to get lost in him (if you aren’t already).

“Maybe I am,” he says, and that surprises you. You had been joking, but the heady way he’s looking at you turns it serious. “Would that bother you?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to say the right thing. You don’t even know if that’s a good response or not, but you’ve done it now and Bucky nods, downs his drink, all without ever breaking eye contact with you. You get the distinct feeling you’ve just agreed to something you don’t entirely understand, entangling yourself further into Bucky without even trying to. Given what you’d been uncovering about his friends the past week, you should know better. You should leave.

But you don’t. You lean across the booth, coming to him this time, and peel his hand off his glass to entwine your fingers with his. The cool metal of his signet rings offsets the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way he grips your fingers tightly signs the deal. Bucky is too enticing to stay away from, and you are too tired of trying to.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you ask, but it’s not really a question. You watch his eyes dart across your face, tongue flicking out over his lips, stalling for time. You wonder what he’ll say. My friends run dodgy business deals out of a tattoo parlour? I’m involved in that, too? I’m dangerous, I’m a liar, you should stay away?

“I’m a mechanic,” he says. You try not to show your disappointment, but still, this is information you didn’t have before and you’re greedy for anything. “I have my own shop in Queens. Natasha helps me out, helps me run it. I’ve been obsessed with cars and bikes and shit since I was five.”

You smile at that, imaging little Bucky running around a car yard trying to convince his dad, or whoever, to teach him how to drive even if he couldn’t reach the pedals yet. You imagine him now, the hand you’re holding all greased up and elbow deep in a car’s guts, maybe with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his back. You’ve got to see that one day before you die, you decide right then. That’s too hot to just stay in your brain.

“Your turn,” he says, shit-eating smirk in place like he can read your mind. You blush, despite yourself, and scramble for something to say that’s not I’ve been investigating your friends all week and it’s not looking too good for them.

“My dad,” you blurt out, and Bucky give you a funny look like he thinks that’s your fact - you have a dad, isn’t that something. You curse yourself for starting this, you could’ve gone with anything and you said ‘my dad’? But you’re here now, so, “He raised me on his own, like, I don’t know my mum at all, but he always said he wanted me to have something of her so he taught me Russian. She taught him, apparently, and he taught her English. Now it’s like our secret language.”

“Russian, hey?” Bucky asks, and he seems far too surprised for the anecdote you’ve just given but you suppose it is the first actually personal thing you’ve told him. He doesn’t seem off-put by it, though, like you have expected him to be because you don’t do personal. In fact he just leans closer, almost unconsciously, baiting you to tell him more.

“Yeah,” you say, compelled to keep going. “We’d leave each other notes around the house in ‘code’, y’know, but it was just in Cyrillic. Thought it was so cool.”

“It is cool,” Bucky says, smirking at you again, “You’re cool.”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, kicking his ankle under the table but immeasurably grateful for the tone change. You don’t know why you’ve just told him that. You don’t know if you’ve ever told anyone that - Russian isn’t exactly a handy language to know. You feel drunker than you should be after a tiny bit of whiskey, high on the rush of unleashing a secret. Drunk enough that Bucky unlatching his fingers from yours to grip your wrist tight, a bit bruising, tugging you close, makes you flush from your scalp to your toes.

Bucky looks at you, dark and heavy, and asks, “Want to?”

You nod, throat suddenly very dry, and Bucky tugs you out of the booth without another word. Usually you wait a bit longer before getting on Bucky’s bike, have a few more drinks, maybe dance a bit if you can coax Bucky into it. Not tonight. You’re both on the same page - it’s been too long and you need his mouth on you about five days ago.

He pushes you into the apartment by the shoulders, rough enough you stumble but you’re quickly righted as he strides through the door after you and grabs you by the hips. Bucky crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your needy whine with soft lips and velvet tongue as you fist his t-shirt and drag you both backwards, going and going until your back hits a wall. His palm slams into the drywall by your head but you don’t flinch, only groan as he smudges his spit-slick mouth across your jaw and down your neck. Bucky bites down, sharp teeth on soft skin, and you rake your nails down his stomach as payback for the mark you’ll have later.

“Off,” Bucky grumbles as he shoves at your jacket, getting it stuck at your elbows and trapping your arms by your sides. He seems to like like this, eyes flashing something dangerous in the dark of his hallway. You hold his eyes, heart thrumming something wild in your throat at being caught, pinned, vulnerable. With Bucky, though, you like that.

You want to reach for him but you can’t, so you wait for him to come to you. Kissing you breathless, hand fisted in your hair, other undoing the front of your jeans. God, you wanna touch him so bad but Bucky has you in his grip, yanking your head back to kiss that same bruised spot. He sucks another under your chin as you cry out, pinpricks of pain-turned-pleasure bursting at the base of your scalp.

He gets his hand in your jeans, in your panties, runs two fingers down your cunt so easy with how wet you are already before rubbing bruising, slow circles on your clit. Your whole body jerks against Bucky’s hold on you, his thighs bracketing your body into the wall and his hand still fisted in your hair. Your mouth drops open in a soundless moan and you feel, rather than hear Bucky laugh against your throat. All executive function has diverted to the radiating ache of pure pleasure from Bucky’s fingers on you.

Bucky lets go of you hair only to press his hand on your throat, cold rings digging into your burnt-up skin and pressing you back into the wall. Long fingers tilt your jaw to look at him, increased pressure warning you against looking away, but you don’t want to anyway. Bucky’s eyes are dark like a sea storm, molten blue, and he squeezes his grip just once before saying, “Still think I’ve gone soft?”

Jesus christ, but you can’t answer him like this - not with your pulse thundering against his palm and the way he picks up the pace on your clit, making your thighs shake with the effort of holding yourself up. Bucky grins, boyish and crinkly, and it’s so at odds with the way he slides his two fingers down and pushes into you, twisting to the knuckle, that you think you might be losing your mind. Unravelling, Bucky pulling at the threads, and the only thing holding you together is his hand on your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, his name a broken breath as you start to lose focus. Everything’s hazy, glassy, your toes are going numb and tingly so you know it’s coming, building tight in your stomach as he rubs his fingers back and forth inside of you. At his name Bucky makes a sound almost like a growl, pressing his body against yours and somehow further into the wall. You need that contact, the press of his muscles holding you up as it gets harder and harder to breath with the heat coiling up inside of you. He presses his forehead against yours so all you can see is blue edged out by black, claiming your every breath and moan, drawing you in deeper and deeper because you’re his, now. There’s no way back from this.

He presses his thumb to your clit, thrusts his fingers deeper into you, mouth parting with yours as you moan as if he means to swallow the sound. You’re there, you’re right there, and then he kisses you so soft you might’ve imagined it and you’re coming, your whole body clenching up and whiting out while he finger fucks you through it.

Trembling muscles come to leant against the wall, barely holding yourself up as Bucky extricates himself and allows you room to breath. He gently tugs your jacket all the way off, freeing your arms to come up sluggish and heavy around his neck, holding on. He laughs, just quietly, letting you nuzzle your way into the side of his neck and breath in that warm honey Bucky smell as you try and regain mental functions. It’s hard. You think Bucky’s just blended up your brain with a swizzle stuck and sucked it out through a straw.

“C’mon,” he says, gravel rough, and nudges his nose against the side of your head. “Not done with you yet.”

“Hmph,” you say, but let yourself be picked up under the ass and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. You press a kiss to the skin of his neck you can reach with every second your body comes back online, digging your teeth in a little when he squeezes your ass as he walks. You’re both still fully clothes, basically, but you don’t plan to be for long. You’ve got tattoos to kiss and a dick you want anyway Bucky’ll let you. You’ve got all night, after all.

***

It’s late, you should be going, but you steal a few more minutes lying on Bucky’s chest. He’s sat up against the headboard, trying to braid little pieces of your hair with the cutest look of concentration on his face. The way he goes from dirty to dork always makes your heart do complicated things in your chest. You’re drumming your fingers on his chest, right next to his dog tags, and before you can overthink it too much you pause your drum solo to pick them up.

Bucky doesn’t pause in his hair-braiding but you can feel him watching you as you turn the worn metal over in your fingers. They’re well loved, a bit bent in places and the letters starting to rub flat but you can still read it. His birthday, March 10th, and his name. You’d never thought to read these before - they always seemed part of Bucky’s past, something you weren’t allowed into yet. But tonight has made you bold, and you run your thumb over the letters of his name so you can memorise the feel of them.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you mumble, words half said into his skin. Bucky hums but doesn’t respond, so you say, “I always knew no mother could look at their newborn child and call it Bucky.”

“Watch it,” Bucky warns, but without any real heat. You don’t ask what the tags mean, which war he fought in, when he got back. You lay them back on his skin carefully, straightening out the chain, before turning in Bucky’s arms to prop your chin on his chest piece and look at him.

“I should go,” you say, as you continue to lie there with legs tangled and Bucky’s hand now resting idle, cupping the back of your head. He bites his lip, strokes his big hand down the back of your hair and making you close your eyes for a second. You’re enjoying his touch too much, you’re getting too close for a man you don’t know. A man who you know has secrets you probably don’t want to uncover, but you can’t stop yourself.

“You could stay.” Bucky’s words hang there, suspended in the space between you. He’s never said that before. You never thought he would say that, ever. Bucky looks at you, face unreadable, and you don’t know why you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden but you do. There are lines being crossed that you can’t backtrack from. You’re not ready to make that step yet.

“Not tonight,” you say, and it’s not a no but it’s not what Bucky wants to hear. He withdraws his hand from you, letting it drop uselessly to the bed beside him. You take that as your cue to go, rolling off the bed and dressing silently with Bucky’s eyes burning a hole in your skin.

You’re pulling away, trying desperately to regain some distance and control from his man who already has you swallowed whole, he just doesn’t know it yet. Even still, you can’t stop yourself crawling back on the bed and straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him. You want him to remember this - not you saying no, but the way your body will always say yes to him as he holds your hips and keeps you there, kissing you back as desperate as you feel.

But now you know you have reason to climb through the laundry room window that night and sneak away from Bucky’s apartment building, that you’re not just being paranoid because you’ve got photos to prove it. It’s that thought alone that makes it bearable to leave him, even if your heart is begging you to stay.

Part 3

#bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #bucky fic #reader insert fic #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker au #biker!bucky au #avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #11 hours

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flourchildwrites · 3 years

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Six years after their escape to the human world, the Grace Field children live together in a happy, harmonious home. Twenty-one-year-olds, Ray, Norman and Emma, have folded themselves into modern society and work tirelessly to provide for their younger siblings, putting the greater good of their family before their personal needs. But as children turn to into teenagers, new house rules come into play. Norman, convinced that Emma will never remember their unique childhood bond, makes a bold proposition — to prohibit romantic relationships between the Grace Field children and end his hopes for something more with Emma once and for all.

Ray knows all too well how dangerous it is to reignite a spark, but for the happiness of Emma and Norman, he's always been willing to burn.

Fandom: Yakusoku no Neverland | The Promised Neverland (Manga)

Relationships/Pairings: Emma/Norman (Endgame), Emma/Ray (Fake Dating), Norman & Ray, Emma & Ray

Genre: Post-Canon (Spoilers for Anime-Only Fans), Fake/Pretend Relationship

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,930 words (incomplete 3/5)

A/N: Oh, hi! So it's been a while, but I have neither dropped off the face of the Earth nor given up on this fic. Sometimes, I just have to wait until I'm in the right state of mind to write a chapter. Until next time....

Chapter 3

The cuckoo clock on the wall of Norman’s study is an ornate piece of artistry. It does its job fashionably and without complaint, keeping time with as much precision as its pendulum can muster. Norman likes to lose himself to the details of the carved wood. The dancing animals and crisp steeples that surround the clock face never fail to interest him when his thoughts turn sluggish at the end of the day.

Norman would happily wile away his evening hours waiting for the clock’s melodic chime to sound at the top of the hour, but this is not the gift’s purpose. Instead, it is meant as a constant reminder that time itself is a precious commodity. Mike Ratri gave him the clock upon his admission to law school. And though Norman’s enthusiasm for the present has dissipated, he cannot disagree with the principle behind the clock’s coded message.

Time can be a beautiful, but unforgiving mistress; yesterday’s opportunities are lost in the past, gone forever.

Perhaps, Norman muses, for his next graduation, he will receive a high-end watch from the Ratri clan. Then he, along with his time, will be literally and figuratively shackled to the course the family’s scion has mapped out for him. Norman knows he is regarded as the best of the bunch, the poster child amongst the extraordinary children born and raised in the demon world. Ever rational, he cannot disagree with that conclusion.

Still, he rakes a finger under the collar cinched around his neck to loosen his tie and fusses with the first few buttons of his pressed shirt. The emblem of Lambda 7214 peeks out from underneath the scoop neck of his undershirt, and not for the first time, Norman traces the tattoo’s hard lines where they are exposed. Compared to this marking, the numbers on his neck are practically forgettable.

Norman isn’t like the other Grace Field children, not since Peter Ratri’s malicious experiments. Neither can he lump himself in with the other Lambda survivors. Though Barbara never shies away from advocating for the latter.

“Are you even listening?” Barbara’s voice is shrill as it comes from the cellphone wedged between Norman’s shoulder and ear.

In the background, he can hear boxing gloves rhythmically pound against a punching bag. Norman doesn’t like lying to Barbara; he knows what the woman is capable of when she’s feeling feisty. But after hearing the juicy gossip from the younger children in his house, concerning a date between two certain someones, Norman’s mind refuses to focus on administrative matters. Still, he tries to soldier on as if nothing is amiss.

“Of course,” Norman fibs. “You’re concerned about the benefit, just like you are every year. And every year, it turns out fine. We get our funding; the Ratri family keeps their moral high ground.”

The sound of hard punch startles Norman, and Barbara pauses, slightly winded, before responding. “But the problem is that they want Zazie to attend this year. Zazie!”

The thought causes Norman to pause. He is wont to recall Zazie as he once was — a child stuck in an overgrown body with a paper bag hiding his face and twin swords strapped to his back. But Zazie, like his brothers and sisters, has grown into his shaggy hair, and in his case, his mental strides are much more impressive.

“What does Zazie think about attending the benefit?”

Barbara scoffs. “He’s fine with going for a little while as long as he isn’t on his own, but why should he waste his precious words on that family ? They don’t fund his therapy out of charity; they pay for it because his hardships, all our hardships, are their fault.”

Normally, Norman would play devil’s advocate. He would remind Barbara that Mike isn’t like Peter and point out that most of the advances made on behalf of the cattle, Lambda and farm children are funded by the donations of the benefit’s attendees. But tonight, Norman has no such fight in him. He has four cases to read and brief, an argument to draft for his legal writing class and a Ray-and-Emma-shaped problem that seems to become more bizarre by the minute.

“I’ll talk to Mike and see if we can defer Zazie’s involvement,” Norman capitulates, rubbing at his neck as his to-do list grows longer. “He may look like an adult, but he’s still a teenager. It can be easy to forget.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other side of Norman’s cell phone connection.

“Are you feeling alright, boss?”

A part of Norman wants to laugh, a great big belly laugh that would draw the kind of attention the household head does his best to avoid. Of course, he isn’t alright. It was a relief when he first made the decision to impose a fraternization ban, but then, Ray went and asked Emma out just to spite him.

Clever, impulsive asshole.

How could Norman go through with it after that? Either he would have seemed like a heartless roadblock or a jealous cockblock to his siblings. And neither alternative comes close to the truth, an inconvenient conundrum that’s been eating away at him for years.

Norman exhales, long and slow, and because he can ordinarily be (somewhat) honest with Barbara, he doesn’t lie to her this time. He won’t divulge the whole, messy truth. For that, he wouldn’t even know how to begin. Heavy the head that wears the crown, or in this case, Norman thinks it’s more along the lines of a cape.

“No,” he responds, “I’m not alright. But I’m sure I’ll be fine after exams. I just need some time to rest and get my head on straight. No need to be concerned.”

There’s a flurry of movement coming from Barbara’s side of the connection, and when she speaks again, her voice sounds unflinchingly clear. Norman braces himself when he realizes she’s paused her evening workout and taken herself off speakerphone.

“Far be it for me to suggest that you shouldn’t be living with the Grace Field kids, but you’re also one of us — a Lambda experiment. We have different needs, and Lambda House could provide you with much more support or at least a break from being in charge. Come live with us and let someone else run things over there. We all miss you, boss. Maybe someone could help you for a change.”

A lump sticks in Norman’s throat, and he swallows it, ready to make excuses that never arrive. Words fail him for the umpteenth time in a handful of days. Suddenly hot, he scratches the back of his neck and shrugs off his collared shirt entirely. The top of his Lambda 7214 tattoo remains on full display. Sometimes, he hides it so well that he begins to believe his own lies, but there are moments when the truth corrodes his carefully constructed facade.

Norman may be the brightest child from the demon world, but he’s also damaged goods, marked in ways that Ray (for example) is not.

He could live at Lambda House. Correction, he should live at Lambda House to better avail himself of the on-call therapists for his night terrors and have his medication managed with more regularity. But then, there would be no reason for Norman to oversee the Grace Field children’s home. He wouldn’t be able to drag himself down to breakfast each morning to find her, Emma, sipping her coffee and joking around with the younger children, or feel his heart flutter when wishes him well in the evenings.

Norman stays because she’s worth all the small inconveniences and then some. The time in between, the numbing hours spent studying, problem-solving and balancing the books, are a means to an end. Emma always tips the scale in Grace Field’s favor. Even with an anti-fraternization rule, Norman doesn’t expect his feelings to change.

Nevertheless….

“I’ll think about it,” Norman hears himself say, and he ends the call promptly with promises to be in touch soon simply to put the matter to rest.

Read the rest on AO3!

#tpn #noremma #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn emma #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn phil #manga spoilers #flourchildwrites #when the mood strikes her

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malumsmermaid · 4 years

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Snitches and Talkers

Part Two to Kiss and Sell!!

Spy!Michael x OC

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: violence, broken bone, language

His eyebrows knitted together, leaning forward and opening the glass separating them from the drivers. “Hey, guys, you just passed the exit for the airport,” the blonde spy questioned, gasping as the passenger side driver turned around to face him.

“Oh we know, Agent M, we know.” he said, punching the spy back before crawling through the small opening, holding the blonde back and glaring at Jay as he restrained the blonde, pulling blindfolds from his pocket.

***********

Michael woke up, head fuzzy as he processed that the world was still dark, but no longer seemed to be moving. He let out a groan, shoulders stiff and sore, processing the cotton stuffed in his mouth and tied behind his head. He stretched his arms, finding those restrained too, as he was about to test his feet a voice fuzzily entered his head from the surrounding room. “It looks like our guests are finally waking up, remove the sacks.”

Michael’s eyes squeezed shut as the bag was removed from his face, the room bright around him. He turned his head to look over at his girlfriend, her hair disheveled from the bag being removed. She looked like she had put up a fight against their captors, the drivers not having the element of surprise to get a jump on her like they had with Michael.

He took in the room further around him, noticing the two drivers on either side of them, the smaller one who had crawled through the window next to him, the larger one who had been actually driving next to Jay. He gave her his best smile from around the gag in his mouth, they’d clearly learned who was the bigger threat. But he also knew that they were underestimating him, having been able to surprise him in the car so he couldn’t fight back. He didn’t mind though, he was used to it as the tech guy. He still managed to surprise Calum and Ashton from time to time in the gym when they were back at home base.

Finally he remembered the man who had first spoken as he and Jay woke up, bringing his slowly sharpening gaze over to the center of the room. He squinted as he took in the man’s face, recognizing it from some of the posters on the wall at hq, searching the fog that was his mind for his name.

“Take out their gags, men, want to hear their thoughts.” He ordered, lazily approaching the couple from his spot at the front of the room.

“But she--” the smaller henchman by Michael started, only to be cut off by a wave of the boss’ hand.

Begrudgingly, both henchmen removed the gags from the two spies’ mouths. “There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He stated, less than ten feet away now. “Agent M, I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, as the man who’s been compiling so much information on me for your bosses. And with the fine Agent J at your side as well. I’m sure that comes as no surprise though, I’ve heard that the two of you are hard to separate when she’s at headquarters.”

Michael’s ears heated, the idea of a mole somewhere within the organization starting a fire in his chest. He slowly began minutely wiggling his hands, trying to tighten the zip tie holding his arms back so he could attempt to snap it so he could free his hands while their captor continued his spiel.

“I wanted to bring you in, obviously Agent M, since you’ve collected so much intel on me, but I needed someone to bring with you to make sure that you actually would do what I ask. So once my informants tipped me off to your relationship with the lovely lady next to you, I knew I had to make a move the second that the two of you were out together.

“You two are a bucket of charm you know? Showed myself on that video camera to force Agent A out, since I’d already met him earlier on in my planning stages, decided he wouldn’t be useful to me in getting you to do what I want and went back to the drawing board. Then I got intel that you were looking into Belaggio and I set myself up with him, and made sure that it would be you paired with Agent J at the gala, see the way you two interact in person.”

Michael continued to work to free himself, attempting now to try and snap the zip tie around his wrist. He focused his anger about their current predicament, minutely shifting his arms to bang his wrists against the chair. He felt the zip tie snap after the fourth attempt, maintaining a neutral expression and keeping his hands locked behind him, waiting for an opening as the man he had only known as Aaron, but looked nothing like the kindly, bald, body guard, continued with his villainous monologue.

“Now, what I need from you, Agent M, is to clear everything about me from your database, most importantly. After that I want you and sweet Agent J’s real names, as well as the names of the rest of your team, and finally, the location of your headquarters, none of my contacts were willing to hand over that final piece of information to me. However, with your beautiful girlfriend here, I’m sure we can manage to get you to give it up for me, hmm M?”

Michael gritted his teeth, jaw aching as he watched ‘Aaron’ step closer to Jay, leaning down in front of her and gently lifting her chin. “I really can’t wait to learn your true name, Agent J, what could it be? Jennifer? Jessica? Jasmine?”

He ran his pointer finger over Jay’s lower lip as he listed names and she leaned forward, taking the finger into her mouth and biting down, hard. The villain gasped as she released his finger, holding it to his chest as he backed away, anger bubbling across his face. “Try that again and you’ll be short a finger.” she spat, sitting back in her chair.

“We tried to warn you boss,” the henchman by Michael squeaked, “she bites.”

“Well, I’m sure I can take care of that,” he stated, dropping his hand from where he’d been staring at the bite mark and approaching Jay again, shoulders squared as he towered over her.

She just stared back at him defiantly, Michael watching to see what he was going to do. His legs tensed as he watched their captor raise his hand, anger finally taking over at the image, the two halves of the plastic ties dropping to the floor as he sprung from the chair. He had caught the henchmen off guard, their boss’ focus completely on Jay, so he froze in surprise as Michael’s legs wrapped around him from behind, his arms going around the larger man’s throat. “Don’t even fucking think about it.” The spy snarled as he squeezed.

Jay grinned up at her boyfriend, standing from the chair, her hands still bound as the two henchmen got over their surprise, moving in. She kicked back the henchman nearest to her, running through the spacious room, arms still behind her back while Michael fought to keep his hold on the spluttering leader. He thrashed beneath the lanky spy, the man Jay had kicked back recovering and coming to his boss’ aid. He prised Michael’s arms from around the man’s throat, Michael loosening his legs’ grip on his waist and dropping to the floor. He sprang to his feet, feeling slightly satisfied as his captor dropped to his own knees, coughing as his lungs tried to bring in air again.

He looked at his new opponent, the larger henchman, and took a step back, guard up as he analyzed the situation. He could hear Jay fighting behind him, trying to pinpoint the sounds as they echoed through the large hall, but also not taking his eyes off the approaching man. He feinted to his left, ducking the punch that came at him before pushing in closer, one, two, three, quick jabs to the larger man’s muscular torso before backing up quickly again.

He kept up this pattern, doing his best to get closer to his girlfriend each time. Unfortunately, on his final backup he misstepped, shoes slipping on the polished marble floor, and going out from under him, leaving him sprawled on his back. He could see the henchman advancing on him and pushed backward with his elbows and feet, trying to slink away. The man towered over Michael’s body and the spy began kicking upward desperately, but he heard a thud to his right, a muffled cry that sounded like Jay’s voice and his wide-eyed gaze went her direction, freezing as he saw the small henchman crouched over her, holding a cloth to her nose. The small moment of distraction gave his opponent an opening, the large man crouching over Michael and before he knew it there was cloth covering his mouth and nose too. Just before his world faded to black again, Michael heard his captor’s strained voice, yelling at the henchmen, “I told you two not to underestimate him!”

********

“Somethings wrong.” Ashton stated as he looked up from his watch for the upteenth time in the twenty minutes since they’d arrived at the airfield.

“No shit.” Luke replied, hunched over one of Michael’s laptops, using the live satellite app Michael wrote to track the path their van should’ve been on. “There wasn’t any traffic and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of a crash anywhere on their route between the safehouse and here, they should’ve beat us.”

Ashton nodded, continuing pacing around where Luke was sitting on the tarmac. Calum walked over from where he’d been talking to their drivers, hand running over his shaved head, “Nelson says that the two guys that were driving Mike and Jay were different, told him that our other drivers for this mission had come down with something and that they were covering for them.”

“Shit!” Luke exclaimed, hand smacking against the asphalt.

Ashton grimaced, exchanging a glance with Calum. “Lu, you need to get back to HQ, give them the intel from the mission and then tell them that Cal and I are tracking down Mike and Jay, to send backup.”

The young blonde looked up at Ashton, blue eyes blazing. “I’m not leaving without any of you! I don’t want to sit at HQ not knowing what’s happened!”

Ashton chewed his lip, this was a hard call to make, he knew, but someone had to be the one to split off. “Look, Luke, the longer we sit here the further away they get. I’ll have my tracker on, we don’t know who has Michael and Jay, so we’re going to need someone to get word to the brass to send help while also making sure that they get the information we were in the field for in the first place. You’re the best man for that job. You can come right back out here as soon as you do that. But we need to move now.”

Luke sighed in defeat, handing over the computer to Calum as he got to his feet, watching as Ashton fiddled with the dial of his watch, turning on the tracker. Nelson handed the car keys over to Ashton, nodding to him and Calum before following Luke and the other driver up the steps of the jet, all of the gear already loaded on.

They both ran over to the car, Calum awkwardly climbing into the passenger seat while still cradling the computer as Ashton punched the ignition. Ashton sped away from the runway, heading for the interstate as Calum typed in the plate for the car their teammates had been in. It may have been a phony plate, but the traffic cameras wouldn’t know the difference and that was all that mattered in the moment. “They’re still on the same interstate, we’ve got ‘em, let’s go.”

Ashton nodded as he punched the gas.

He sped down the highway, Calum keeping tabs on the SUV they were tracking, eyes staring unblinkingly at the computer screen. The car changed lanes but never got off the highway until….”They didn’t come out of the tunnel,” Calum stated, brows furrowing.

Ashton cursed, hand striking the top of the steering wheel. “There any high vis vests or hard hats in this car?”

Calum nodded, scrambling to dig through the center console and the glove box before climbing into the backseat and then into the trunk. He procured the items and slowly clambered back to the passenger seat. He set the hats and vests on the dash, pulling the seat belt back across his body before grabbing the computer again, double checking that the car had in fact disappeared in the tunnel.

Twenty minutes later Ashton pulled into a gravel parking lot alongside the highway, meant for turning around semis with a clearance higher than the tunnel that hadn’t used the last exit, as well as for maintenance staff. They put on the hard hats and vests before climbing out of the car, flashing badges quickly at the other staff as they continued to stride towards the maintenance path of the tunnel. They weren’t questioned as they continued down the walkway, eyes scanning the wall for any sign of mechanism that would allow the other car to vanish.

As they walked along Ashton let out a thought he’d been having since entering the tunnel, “I just don’t understand how they’d be able to make a sharp 90 degree turn in here if the entrance is somewhere in the wall.”

Calum hummed before holding a hand out to stop Ashton, pointing at a spot on the road, “Because they don’t, c’mon, let’s figure out how to get that to open.”

Ashton nodded, scanning around before spotting an antenna sticking up on the railing, “Here.” he called, walking over to the piece of metal.

Calum jogged after him, flicking through settings on his watch. “Just gotta find the right frequency to set it off. Then we can see how long it takes to lower and raise and then head back to the car.”

Ashton turned, hazel eyes wide as he stared at Calum. “Why don’t we just hop down there as soon as it opens? We don’t know who has them or what they want, why waste time walking all the way back to the car?”

Calum furrowed his dark eyebrows, taking a moment before responding, “We don’t know where this tunnel comes out, Ash. It could be a thirty mile walk for all we know, in which case it would be faster to go back for the car and drive there than just go ahead and start walking down there as soon as I find the right frequency to set it off.”

Ashton anxiously chewed his lip before agreeing, nodding at Calum. Calum gave him a quick smile before turning back to his watch, dialling it in before they heard a small beep from the antennae. They watched as the section of road angled downwards, revealing a tighter tunnel below the roadway. Fortunately, traffic was nonexistent right now, so there weren’t any cars at risk of unexpectedly driving into the new tunnel. Once it was open it stayed that way for ten seconds before raising back up to hide the other tunnel once more.

The two spies grinned at each other, nodding and beginning to speed walk back to the surface and their car. They shrugged off the vests as they climbed into the dark SUV and tossed them in the backseat with the hardhats, Ashton throwing the car in drive and speeding out of the gravel lot and onto the highway, staying in the right lane as Calum stared intently at the railings, waiting to see the antennae, knowing they’d be on it much quicker than when they were looking for it on foot. As soon as he saw it he hit the button on the side of his watch, setting off the hydraulics that would lower the road to a ramp. Ashton slowed as they started driving downwards, shoulders stiff as they entered the new tunnel. “Now we just gotta hope that us opening that thing didn’t set anything off.” Ashton joked, nervous chuckle passing his lips as he moved one hand from the wheel to toss his curls.

Calum licked his lips, nodding along as his fingers tapped in his lap as Ashton continued to drive, switching the topic to what they were going to do once they made it to where Michael and Jay had been taken, if they would wait for Luke and backup before going in or if they’d head straight inside.

*******

Michael woke again, head pounding even more than the first time. His body ached as he moved to sit up, finding a mattress beneath him. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than the cold floor. He ran his hand over his face, wincing slightly at the slight pressure. He knew he hadn’t escaped the fight earlier without a hit, the adrenaline blocking any pain from the contact, but what he could feel now felt worse than what he anticipated.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to turn the pain into background noise for a moment. He grunted as he got to his feet, arm around his stomach as he took in his surroundings. There was a large, tri-monitored computer in the corner across from his bed, an open door leading into a bathroom between the two furniture pieces and two of the walls of the small room were glass. One glass wall looked out into the hallway, and the other looked into another room like the one he was in, sans computer.

Michael gasped as he saw his girlfriend curled up on the mattress in the other room. He strode over to the wall, placing his hand on the cool, thick glass. “Jay,” he whispered, green eyes watering as he looked her over from across the room, her body barely stirring, her chest moving up and down slightly as she breathed. “I’m gonna get us out of this.”

Slowly he forced himself to turn away, deciding to go into the bathroom and check himself out further. He flicked the lightswitch on as he peeled off his shirt, coming to stand in front of the large mirror behind the sink. His eyes scanned the dark bruises on his pale torso, sighing before leaning in closer to look at his face. He hummed as he spotted a bruise hiding beneath his growing beard and another under his eye. He traced over the two spots before taking in his bruised knuckles, carefully flexing his fingers.

He turned away from the mirror, eyes lighting up when they fell on a duffle bag in the corner. He unzipped it, looking for his toiletries, sighing when he recognized Luke’s pink silk button down as he dug through. He hummed, grabbing the smaller bag, he wasn’t going to complain too much, knowing he could have just as easily not been given any change of clothes. He grabbed Luke’s shampoo and bodywash, setting them in the shower before taking off his jeans and boxers, starting the water as he found Luke’s sweatpants, setting them on the counter before checking the water.

He grinned at the feeling of warm water, quickly stepping under the stream, body relaxing as the water hit his body, soothing his aching muscles. He only stood under the water for a minute, quickly moving to wash himself, wanting to save hot water for when Jay woke up. He got out, drying off slowly, stretching his limbs as he did. He pulled on the sweatpants he’d gotten out, looking at himself in the mirror one last time before stepping out of the bathroom.

He grinned when he saw Jay sitting up on her bed, rushing over to the wall. “Hey there sleepyhead,” he said, the relief clear in his voice.

“You say that like I had a choice in being asleep,” Jay said back, the gentle smile on her lips taking away any possible bite, “what time is it?”

Michael sighed, shaking his head. “No idea. Saved you some hot water if you want to get a shower or anything. Hopefully they gave you the right bag, I’ve got prince charming’s clothes.”

Jay laughed softly, slowly getting to her feet and hobbling over, wincing every other step. Michael frowned immediately, watching as she came to stand right in front of him. She cooed softly as she looked him over, her hand touching his through the glass. Michael shook his head at her, “I’m fine, love, nothing a hot shower can’t fix, you need to get off that foot until you can get looked at. I’ve got a plan forming.”

Jay was about to respond, before she dropped her head, nodding. “I’m gonna go freshen up, be back.”

Michael gave her an encouraging smile, watching as she carefully made her way into the bathroom, turning and going to sit on his bed, pulling his legs to his chest as he began to think. After what he figured was about thirty minutes of staring at the ends of his bangs and trying to pull the well worn sweatpants further down toward his ankles, clearly Luke had had some trying times with his washing machine and these pants, he saw Jay emerge from her cell’s bathroom.

Her face was a pale green as she hobbled over to the bed, dressed in Michael’s basketball shorts and hoodie. She sat on the bed, head drooping from the effort of crossing the room and Michael frowned, getting to his feet and approaching the wall. He placed his hand on the glass, concern crossing his brow as he spotted the makeshift splint on his girlfriend’s ankle.

She read his expression easily, giving him a pained smile as she said, “I think I broke it. Whole thing is purple.” Michael’s face filled with rage towards their captor, tension filling his shoulders as he tried to collect himself. He took a deep breath, slowly letting the air out of his lungs before saying, “I wish I could come over there and help you, love. Neither of us know how long we’ve been here, but I believe help is on its way, we’ll be out soon. We’re gonna be ok, Jay.”

“Glad to see you two are finally up and about, good morning.”

Michael’s anger surged again at the sound of their captor’s voice, wheeling around and leaping towards the other wall, fist striking against the glass perfectly in line with the other man’s head. He yawned, boredly rolling his eyes as the tempered glass protecting him from the spy shook as a result.

“It’s cute, how much hope and faith you have in your team, Agent,” he continued as though nothing had happened, Michael’s body shaking as his green eyes stayed trained on patronizing blue. “How’re they supposed to know where we’ve brought you when they don’t even know it’s me that has you? Your only ticket out is helping me, Agent M. I highly suggest that you get started.”

Michael was still shaking, jaw tense as he stared through the glass. “I can get started.” he gritted out, “Problem is, your guys took the car with the clothes, not the equipment, it’s going to take me a while to get through the security system before I can even get to the files you want.”

“Get started then. Or else your sweetheart over there is going to have more than an ankle to worry about.”

Michael was about to snarl a reply when he caught sight of two men outside of Jay’s room, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach and shoulders drooping. “Mi-my love,” Jay caught herself, her brown eyes on the two men outside her cell too, “It’s going to be ok, please…”

Michael closed his eyes, nodding in the direction of the boss, slowly making his way to the computer, reaching under the desk and hitting the power button. Each monitor flashed the loading screen and he heard, “Good choice. I’ll send someone by in a couple hours to make sure you’re still working. Maybe we’ll bring some food too.”

Michael ignored him, just bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as a homescreen appeared in front of him. He heard three sets of receding footsteps and a heavy door slamming.

A minute later, Jay spoke, “you don’t have to do anything, babe, I can take it.” Jay’s voice was weak and Michael licked his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat before spinning in the chair to respond.

“I do, Jay. You’re not getting hurt if I can stop it. Besides, I have a plan, I just need to stall a little. Alek Turner is not getting away with this.”

He turned back to the computer, opening one of the apps he recognized and slowly began his work. He carefully picked through lines and lines of code, someone checking in at some point, but nodding satisfactorily when he saw Michael still typing and disappearing back down the hall again, returning with food and some tylenol for Jay. She scooted off the bed and pushed her body across the smooth floor toward the plate and medicine, trying to keep off her injured leg. She opened the bottle first, smiling at the tamper seal, removing the paper before giving the bottle a cursory sniff before taking out two pills, taking them with her food. As she sat there eating, she heard Michael’s typing pick up. “That doesn’t sound like stalling, love.” She teased.

Michael just hummed in response, blazing through the familiarity of his own lines of code, “Part of my plan, sweets. If people in the lab didn’t know it was me trying to get in before, they will now.”

Jay smiled, nodding to herself from where she was sitting and Michael continued with his work, hitting every possible alarm bell he had put into his own protective layer. He began adding in a new line of code, smirking at the idea he had just gotten to announce himself to the lab, slipping through and finding the lab’s speakers, putting on a Peppa Pig song and punching the volume. While that was playing he kept typing, making up a chat box before bringing down the volume on the song, hitting enter on his message:

M: Whose attention have I got? M here if you couldn’t tell.

S: M! It’s S, where are you?

Michael sighed in relief at the information that it was his mentor on the other side of the screen. The man was beyond loyal to their organization and he knew he could trust whatever he was told.

M: Alek Turner has me and J. She’s hurt. He wants his info erased, our team’s real IDs and the location of HQ.

S: We sent out an X team for you two in the afternoon after L was dbed and he told the brass why the rest of the team weren’t there. A & C were tracking you two and we have a pin on them. It’s about 2am here now.

Michael sighed, nodding at the computer and rubbing his head, the ache from everything that had happened previously making timezone math more difficult than usual, plus he wasn’t sure if he was still in the same one, all he knew was that it was probably dark out and he should be in bed, not staring at a screen.

M: Cool. Gonna keep stalling and hope for the best. Oh, we have moles, Turner brought that up when he was giving his whole monologue. Can’t wait to find their sorry asses when we come in later.

S: Noted. Best of luck.

Michael smiled to himself before closing out the chat window, continuing to work through the security code until his previous work was no longer on the screen. He rose from the chair, stretching his limbs. He met Jay’s questioning gaze, giving her a smile and thumbs up before turning towards the bathroom. He picked up his clothes from the floor, finding one of Luke’s shirts and pulling it on over his bruised torso. He splashed some cold water on his face before walking out, rubbing at his eyes.

He did a few more stretches, approaching the wall that separated him from Jay. “Just wondering, love, do you actually have my bag, or are those clothes you stole? Would be nice to know where my glasses and a fresh pair of contacts are, in case.”

Jay laughed softly before answering, “It’s your bag alright.”

Michael smiled, nodding at her, “Did you refold and put away things after you made your splint?” “Of course you mess.” she teased lightly, but understanding of what he was trying to signal to her showed on her face and he nodded once more before returning to the desk.

*******

Calum and Ashton had made it to the underwater compound, a fact made clear by the glass dome that covered the entire complex. The pair of spies had parked their car in a lot of identical black SUVs, taking an empty space before crawling into the back cargo space. They’d agreed to give Luke and any team he could procure about nine hours before they’d move on their own. Knowing that they wouldn’t get much chance for sleep once they’d broken in, they decided to sleep in shifts, Calum taking the first four hours to rest while Ashton kept watch.

Eight maddeningly quiet hours later the pair were readying themselves to carry out their solo plan, just in case the next hour was just as quiet. Ashton was carefully looping a grappling hook to his belt when they heard a familiar knocking sequence on the bottom of the car. Both men grinned, pausing in silence as they waited for the sound to repeat itself. Once the sequence had been knocked through a second time Calum scooted back, finding the button that opened up the floor beneath them.

Luke’s blonde head poked up through the opening, smile on his face as he recognized that his two friends that had gone ahead were still in the car, a breath of relief passing his lips. “Ready to go get our friends?” He asked, holding his bare arms out to help Calum and Ashton down into the passage they’d discovered.

Once the three highly experienced team members were in the tunnel with the rest of the extraction team, the trio got changed, pulling on black clothes, masks, and gloves, leaving only their eyes exposed from the clothing. As they all crouched in the cool, damp tunnel, Luke pulled out a tablet, showing the images on the screen to Ashton and Calum. “So, based off of your location we were able to use some satellite images to get a rough schematic of this place. We think that they’d be holding Mike and Jay about here,” Luke explained, scrolling through the different layers and plans he’d written up on the fly. “So the three of us and Simon are going to go and get them, and the other four, are gonna see if they can get visuals on who took them in the first place. If they’re not injured, we’ve got diving equipment to get out, if they are injured though, we’ll take them back here to the car and drive back the way you guys came.”

Calum and Ashton nodded at Luke’s plan, the team splitting to go their separate ways, slowly creeping through the tunnels, hoping they’d find what they were looking for where they expected to. There were spots where the tunnel sloped down, the final slope ended in a T, Luke and Calum went to the left, Ashton and Simon to the right. They kept crawling a little further until they reached what looked like a bathroom vent. Ashton looked through the slats, spotting a familiar bag on the bathroom floor, nodding excitedly to the other spy before carefully removing the vent. Both men carefully lowered down, landing lightly on the toilet lid before hopping to the ground. They slowly made their way to the bathroom door, pausing on the inside of the door, waiting a moment. The sound of Michael’s voice reached their ears, “Did you refold and put away things after you made your splint?”

“Of course, you mess,” came Jay’s teasing response, the volume of her voice softer to them than Michael’s, but it, along with the lack of things scattered around the bathroom, gave Ashton the information he was waiting for, Michael knew they were coming.

He felt a lightness in his chest from his friends’ faith in their team, smile crossing his face as he heard Michael acknowledge someone else, muttering something about code and security measures. Ashton held back Simon, waiting a moment for whoever Michael had spoken to to go away, some sort of guard probably. He peeked out the doorway, spotting Calum doing the same across the way. He nodded at his friend, holding up his hand and counting down from five.

As soon as he put down his last finger, they stepped out into the room, four spies moving quickly and quietly towards the two that had been captured. Michael spun in his chair, having seen two figures moving towards Jay’s bed in the reflection of one of the computer screens. His guard was up as he approached Simon, pulling back a fist. Ashton quickly pulled back his mask and hood, “Hey, hey, it’s us, we’re here for you,” he waved quickly over at Luke and Calum, both of them doing the same as Ashton.

Michael sighed with relief, letting Ashton wrap him in his arms, “Sorry, just...stressed.”

“It’s ok, we’ve got you, we’re here.” Ashton whispered, rubbing Michael’s shoulders.

“Jay thinks she broke her ankle,” Michael said as he pulled away, looking to the glass wall that Ashton could now see separated the couple.

Ashton nodded, quickly pulling a tool from his belt, cutting a hole in the glass. Michael gasped, running through it immediately, leaning down to give Jay a kiss. “Get her out, please, Alek Turner is the one who took us, wants names, we have to try to bring him in. He has people on the inside, need to find out more.”

Ashton, Calum and Luke nodded, understanding. Calum carefully took Jay in his arms, heading for her bathroom. Ashton ran over, grabbing Michael’s bag from his bathroom handing it to Luke before grabbing Michael’s arm, making him move. Michael looked at the computer he’d been working on, pulling against Ashton to go for the computer, “Need to get out of our system before we leave.”

Ashton stared for a moment, Simon already getting the glass into the hallway cut. “Is the only thing on that computer hacking software, nothing we can use against Turner?”

“Yeah, but--”

Ashton shot at the CPU three times, Michael staring slack jawed as the screens slowly flickered off, “There, they can’t use any of your hard work getting started to figure out how to get in from there.”

Michael nodded slowly, letting Ashton lead him out into the hallway. Ashton pulled his hood and mask back over his head, nodding towards Simon. They took off for the doors, Ashton smacking the guard with the butt of his pistol, knocking him to the ground. They’d run up a few flights of stairs when Michael realized something. He grabbed Ashton’s shoulder as they paused on a landing, “Fletch, he knows you.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes widened as he processed what Michael was saying, “No fucking way.” he whispered.

Michael just nodded, pausing at the door out of the stairwell. He listened quietly for a moment before pushing out into the hallway, waiting for the other two to follow him. The sound of fighting came from down the hall. Luke had clearly alerted the other team’s leader that they needed to go after Turner now. Michael took off down the hall, Ashton following right behind him. The two dove into the fray, bobbing and weaving through the fighting spies and henchmen, landing hits when necessary. They’d lost track of Simon, but figured he’d be elsewhere helping their teammates.

Michael caught sight of Turner trying to slip away, his silken pajamas rumpled. He leapt in the larger man’s direction, tackling him to the ground and struggling to gain control. He ended up on top of the other man’s chest, satisfied smile on his pink lips as he recognized the purple bruise around Alek’s throat from their tangle earlier in the day. He gripped the collar of the pajama shirt, lifting Turner just slightly as he leaned in, growling “I’m gonna be so happy to lock you up. This, is for my girlfriend,” he paused, landing a punch to Alek’s nose, “and this, is for all those slimeball snitches you’re going to tell us about, you bastard.” He punctuated the second statement with another punch, this time to Turner’s cheek, before twisting slightly to look at Ashton. “Care to do the honors, Fletch?”

Ashton nodded, stepping forward, cuffs already in hand. He restrained Turner while Michael turned him to his stomach, face squished against the marble floor. “C’mon Fletch,” Alek started, using the sweet, innocent voice he had spoken with as Aaron, “we were friends, take it easy, yeah?”

Ashton snorted, tightening the first cuff, “Fletch was friends with Aaron, if I’d known who I was talking with at the time I’d have knocked you in the head with my trowel first chance I got, no questions asked.”

Michael smiled, though he knew Ashton with any makeshift weapon was dangerous, the image of his friend with his bright red hair standing over the large blonde they were taking in, dressed in overalls and weilding a trowel tickled him just a bit. He was about to make a joke about it when he heard the clicking of a revolver. He turned, locking eyes with Simon, his mask and hood removed as he stood over Michael, Ashton, and Alek. He glanced around, the four other members of the extraction team were all staring, standing in a sea of unconscious and subdued henchmen, shocked that one of their own was pointing a gun at the spy they’d come to rescue.

“I suggest you think about what you’re doing, Si.” Ashton warned lowly, “You’re outnumbered, plus if you even try to think about shooting me or Agent M, you’re going to be risking shooting your boss here, and you don’t want to do that, do you?”

Michael nodded, green eyes meeting brown, “Yeah, just put the gun down, Simon, maybe the brass will consider leniency since you helped me escape, but only if you cooperate now, otherwise...who knows?”

Simon lowered the gun slightly, still not dropping it to the ground. Michael took a heavy breath, glancing towards Ashton. He nodded, shifting on top of Turner. Michael moved quickly, barrelling into Simon before he knew what was happening. The gun went off, bullet grazing Michael’s arm before embedding itself in a wall. Michael yelped, but wrestled the revolver out of Simon’s grasp, pinning him in his arms before looking to another agent. “Kay, help us to bring him in?”

“With pleasure,” they responded, Michael easily handing over the mole to them, watching as Ashton stood with Turner, nodding to the team leader and they all walked out the door.

Kay put Simon in the car with Alek while Ashton stood under the liftgate, looking over Michael. “M’just bruised and sore Fletch,” Michael stated, aware that there still could be listening ears, even with Alek Turner in their custody.

Ashton sighed, nodding and letting Michael get to his feet, lowering the trunk as Kay came around the side, “They’re secured, gonna head out with the rest of the team. Meet you guys at the rendezvous point.”

Michael thanked them, giving them a quick hug before he got in the passenger seat next to Ashton. The drive through the narrow tunnel was quiet, Michael listening to the calming playlist that Ashton had on. He smiled as he sat there, car slowly moving upwards. Ashton stopped ten feet back from what appeared to be a dead end, putting the car in park as he fiddled with his watch. Michael stared wide eyed as a ramp lowered down, Ashton punching the gas and driving up it, the car coming into a wider tunnel. Michael’s mouth hung open and Ashton turned to look at him, confused, “Did you not see any of this when they brought you down?”

“No, I got knocked out as soon as I asked why we had passed the airport.”

Ashton nodded slowly, continuing to drive out of the tunnel, heading for the surface. Once they were full out of the tunnel and back on the highway they could see the sunrise over the bay. Michael hummed, taking in the orange and pink reflected in the water, “Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

Ashton laughed heartily, smiling as he continued the drive to where they were supposed to meet up with Luke, Calum, and the rest of the team. Once they arrived at the airport Michael scrambled out of the car, running for where he could see Luke and Calum waiting at the bottom of the plane stairs. He wrapped both men in his arms, pressing to their chests. “This is a total 180 from you almost punching Simon’s face when we came in.” Calum joked, eyes sparkling until he saw Ashton holding a cuffed Simon.

“Shoulda punched his lights out when I thought you guys were henchmen taking Jay somewhere because I wasn’t working fast enough. Fucking mole.” Michael grunted, noticing the shock both men held. He shook his head as Ashton walked Simon up the stairs, followed by another team member with Turner. “Anyway, how’s my girl?”

Luke nodded, leading Michael onto the plane with everyone else, Michael quickly strode over to where he saw his girlfriend, laying on a couch, her foot propped up on a pile of pillows. He smiled, crouching next to her, holding her hand as another few people walked past, carrying the go bags from the back of the car, Turner’s henchmen having just grabbed two when they brought the spies in that afternoon. Michael hummed, content to just sit on the floor in front of his girlfriend as the plane took off for HQ.

~~~~~

Michael had dozed off at some point during the flight, body content to finally knock out of its own volition, giving him two hours of proper sleep before Calum was shaking him awake on the approach. Once they landed they all filed off the plane, Michael cradling Jay in his arms as he followed everyone to the three cars waiting on the tarmac. Luke, Ashton, and Calum clambered into the third row seats, Michael ducking his head as he buckled his girlfriend into her seat before he ran to the other side of the car. Alek Turner and Simon were put in their own car, being taken straight to HQ for processing while the entire extraction team were taken to their doctors to get checked out.

Michael was cleared quickly, and he walked over to Jay’s room, waiting patiently for her to come back from having x rays taken. The nurse who wheeled her back in simply nodded and left the room, and he rose from his chair, rushing over to give Jay a long kiss, holding her gently. “After everything we’ve been through today, I don’t fucking care what they do to us for this, so long as I still get to have you.”

Jay smiled, running her fingers through his hair. He carefully lifted her from the chair, going to sit on the exam table, holding Jay sideways in his lap. Before the doctor came back in with the x rays, Luke, Ashton, and Calum had all joined them in the small room, finding various spots to sit and wait for the update on their teammate. He sighed when he finally came in, shaking his head slightly before putting up the images on the light board, showing the injury Jay had sustained when the henchman she’d been fighting had caught her mid-kick, twisting her foot before dropping her to the floor.

Michael grimaced at the memory of the sound of Jay yelling before a thunk, right before they’d both been knocked out for the second time in one day. Jay squeezed his hand gently and he turned his head, giving her a smile as the doctor explained that she was going to have to be in a cast for about a month and a half, confined to desk duty for that time period.

As soon as Jay’s leg was wrapped in a clunky purple cast they were cleared to go. Calum carried Jay’s new crutches while Michael opted to carry her to their meeting with the brass, the team of five standing strong together as they entered the office. They looked up at the five leaders of the organization, their identities concealed even to their own employees. The one standing in the middle spoke first, looking down at the five spies in front of them. “So, first, glad to have you two back safe and sound, agents. Good job thinking to apprehend Turner before escaping to safety, Agent M, who knows how long we would’ve been searching for him again had you not insisted that that was the priority.”

Michael bowed his head at the praise, waiting for the shoe to drop. “However,” spoke up another member, “This is exactly why none of you are supposed to be in a relationship with another team member. What would’ve happened if no one came to get you?”

He cleared his throat quietly, waiting a beat to see if any of the other leaders would chime in or if he was to answer. He licked his lips before nodding, “I was already stalling for time when my team members came in to get me. I had set off alarms in the lab, getting a conversation in with my mentor, Agent S. If I’d been informed that no one was coming at that time I would’ve continued to stall and try to get him more information. Turner would not have gotten anything from me unless I had absolutely nowhere else to turn.

However, Turner was sloppy, he took us when we were expected to be somewhere, left behind people who would do anything to make sure that Jay and I came back safe. Plus, as you can see, we didn’t go down easy either, we were both knocked out twice within a single day. I think the more important question here is how did Turner get access to agents and turn them to his side to give him any information at all, regardless of the fact that they all refused to tell him where this building is. We need to get him to tell us how many informants he had and who they were, all we have right now is Simon and that’s solely because he pulled a gun on us while we were restraining Turner. How much loyalty do the other moles feel for him if Simon was willing to point a gun at people who have trained and worked alongside him for years?”

There were murmurs from the leaders, the five of them talking to each other while the team waited patiently. Finally, the head of their entire organization rose, at the far end, her gaze falling on the couple before turning to the rest of the team as well. “There’s no way that we can stop the two of you right now. We will question Simon and Alek Turner thoroughly to discover who else answered to Turner and bring them all to justice. All five of you are to take leave for the next week before returning to work. Get some rest, you’ve all done well.”

All five team members nodded, quietly exiting the room. Once they were out and had gathered all their things they smiled at each other. “Breakfast? I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since we left the safehouse.” Michael said, grinning.

They all nodded, making their ways to their respective cars once they agreed on a place. Michael got Jay buckled in before accepting the crutches from Calum, laying them in the backseat before getting in himself. “You should wear clothes like Luke’s more often, looks nice, probably be better without the sweats.”

Michael chuckled as he started the car, slowly backing out of his spot before responding. “Probably would be. The pink is definitely starting to grow on me.”

Jay hummed as Michael pulled out onto the street. “Got a whole week at home together, then you get me sitting in the lab with you for like a whole month, that’s gonna be nice.”

“Sure is sweetheart, I can’t wait.” Michael smiled, leaning over to give his girlfriend a kiss at the stoplight, Luke and Ashton hooting on either side of his car. He shook his head, “So long as we get a good amount of time away from them,” he joked, smile on both their faces as they continued their drive to the restaurant, looking forward to their freetime, together.

Tag List: @irwinkitten @calpops @goth5sos @wildflowergrae @empathycth

#michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #spy!sos #spy!michael #spy!luke #spy!ashton #spy!calum #michael clifford x oc #michael clifford 5sos #michael clifford 5 seconds of summer #calum hood 5sos #calum hood 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin 5sos #ashton irwin 5 seconds of usmmer #luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings 5 seconds of summer

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zodiyack · 5 years

Text

Man Of My Dreams

Requested: @cherryiceee 50 first dates au with Steve Harrington?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, anterograde amnesia, sad stuffs, similar to movie it’s based off of so SPOILERS (but some of it is a bit different)

Note: Some lyrics are in this fic, I made sure that it was made before 1984/1985 so it’d be out by the time Stranger Things takes place! The song used is; Can’t Smile Without You by Barry Manilow

masterlist | stranger things masterlist

It was time to open Scoops Ahoy and Robin had brought a guest. The guest was a girl. Not Robin’s girlfriend, but just a friend. A special friend. She was living at Robin’s house after moving to Hawkins, so people often asked if she was related to her or not. Alas, these two lovely ladies were not related, just the best of friends. Some would even say they were like two peas in a pod.

Robin shoved open the door to the backroom, giving the mystery girl a tour. She explained things when the girl asked questions, and she waited patiently when the girl needed a few seconds. Robin Buckley was pretty much a different girl when this one was around. She went around the room, showing her friend the things she loved about working at Scoops. Finally, the time came to introduce her to Steve.

The brunette dragged her friend to the counter, “Y/n, this is my coworker, Steve Harrington. Steve, this is Y/n L/n.”

Steve waved at Y/n, smiling at her before turning to Robin. “Is this your new girlfriend or something?”

Y/n burst into laughter as soon as the sentence left his mouth. Robin shortly joined in, leaving Steve to awkward laugh because he didn’t get what was funny about a question. “No, no. I’m not her girlfriend, although she never told me that she came out to anyone besides me...Anyways, I’m just a friend.”

"Just a friend...so you’re straight then?”

More giggles erupted from the girls, Steve making a face and raising an eyebrow to the action. “Harrington, you can’t just assume she’s straight because she’s not dating me.” Robin inhaled, calming herself from her episode of laughter so she could properly respond. “She is straight, but I mean, who’s to say she wouldn’t date me?”

Both girls exchanged looks and giggled again, confusing the poor teenage boy even more. Sadly, the mall was opened and people started racing to the ice cream place, so he had to drop the subject and move on. The good side was that Y/n agreed to talk to him during his lunch break. So Steve, excited to talk to the cute girl, watched the time, checking every 5 seconds. It didn’t help thought. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion, feeling like a whole decade went by once it was finally lunch time.

The two talked most of the time, Steve cracking random jokes that she genuinely laughed at. He learned about her love for painting, family, and y/f/f (your favorite fruit). In exchange, she learned about his passion and career of being a mom. Y/n didn’t believe him when he said he had kids, but after context was included with the explanation, she laughed and informed him that she would love to meet his kids.

After an hour or two of talking, it was time for Y/n to go home. “It’s my dad’s birthday today. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Steve nodded and waved goodbye, earning a wave back. He sure was excited to see Y/n tomorrow...

. . .

The brunette dragged her friend to the counter, “Y/n, this is Steve Harrington. Steve, this is Y/n L/n.”

“Didn’t you already introduce us?” Robin’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Y/n..as she said.” She shook hands with Steve, who kept making weird faces at Robin. “I’m sorry, do you have a problem with her or something?”

“No! I’m just confused...um do you wanna talk at lunch today? Get to know each other a little more?”

Y/n looked back at Robin. Robin shrugged so Y/n looked back to Steve, “Sure. What time is your lunch break?”

“Around 12, is that okay?”

“Mhm. I’ll see you then I guess...”

This time, Steve was more confused than excited. Why was she acting weird? Why was Robin acting weird? Was the day repeating itself or something? This was highly unusual. Soon, his lunch break was started, him walking rather than racing to go sit with Y/n. When he sat down, he saw her smile, maybe it was just a joke...

“So, you still wanna meet my kids?”

Y/n almost choked on her water. “Um.. you have kids? Aren’t you a little...well young?”

“What? Ooh.. no, remember? They’re just my friends who I call my children.”

“Sorry. I’m just...yeah... right now. Anyways, how are you?”

“I’m good! How’s painting going for you? Also, I got this y/f/f for you! It’s your favorite, right?”

“How do you know all of this about me. Robin said she’s never even told you about me. Are you stalking me or something?” She stood up, gathering her stuff. “Robin!”

“No! No, it’s okay!” Steve was panicking. What had he done wrong? Why couldn’t this girl remember what he had said before? Why was she assuming he would stalk her?

“Robin! I need to go, like right now!”

In less than a minute, Robin was racing around the corner. “What is it y/n?”

“Your friend. I think he’s stalking me or something, can I just go?”

“I’m not-”

“Zip it Harrington, I need to call Y/n’s dad and let him know she’ll be home early. Come on Y/n, it’s okay.”

Steve followed the girls to the back room, apologizing over and over to Y/n. She eventually left, still not replying to him. Then, Steve did one of the most Steve things ever. Pushing past crowds, he ran out to his car, following behind Y/n’s car as it drove to her dad’s house. When she pulled over, she ran inside, screaming for her father’s help.

“Dad, get this guy to leave me alone!”

Steve hopped out of his car, running to the screen door and knocking. An older man opened it. A buff looking teen in a mesh shirt stood behind the man. They didn’t look very happy. Steve guessed they were the brother and dad she talked about the day before.

“H-hello sir. Um...I’m Steve Harrington, I met your daughter yesterday.”

The man chuckled, opening the door all the way and walking out. “I don’t care, alright? You’re gonna leave her alone and never talk to her again. Now please, leave my home.”

. . .

Steve raced to the two girls so he could introduce himself. “Hello! I’m Robin’s coworker, Steve. Do you like to paint?”

The girl giggled, nodding. “Yes! Do you?”

“Well, I’m not that good at it, but maybe you could teach me?”

“Of course! I’m actually studying to be an art teacher, but since it’s the weekend and I have no homework, I’d be glad to help!”

It wasn’t the weekend. Today was Thursday. What day did she think it was? “Thanks! That means a lot to me.”

“Anytime! I’m Y/n.”

“And Y/n, has to go now.” Robin interrupted the two, sighing sadly.

“What? But I thought your mom said you should give me a tour?”

“Yes, a tour before you go home. Your dad wants you.”

“Oh yeah! It’s his birthday haha, catch you later Steve!” She waved and left the mall, only making Steve more curious. However, for the first time, his questions were answered when Robin pulled him into the back room.

“Steve. Her father banned her from staying here, thanks to you.”

“What did I do?”

“Oh Steve...she has amnesia. She’ll never remember you. That’s why she was so freaked out yesterday. That’s why she isn’t in school. That’s why she thinks today is the weekend. Her dad’s birthday was the day it all...happened.. You can’t have any form of relationship with her. She’ll never remember you.” Steve opened his mouth to respond before Robin interrupted him once again. “And before you say you didn’t plan on it, I’ve seen the way you look at her and how sad you were when she didn’t remember you.”

“Oh...what type of..amnesia?”

“Anterograde. She only remembers her family, me, my family, and some other things. She’ll never remember you or anyone she meets.”

Robin had faith that Steve would give up on Y/n, seeing as a person would want the girl to remember them if they were in a relationship...but the reasons of her faith were her opinion. Steve wasn’t going to give up. Not now, not ever.

Every day, Steve drove to the road to her house, finding new ways to get her attention so they could chat And so he could flirt. The first day he asked her for a jump because his car “wasn’t working.” The next day he was unsuccessful, waiting in his car with roses and a poster for her. Sadly, she dropped something in her car, not looking over to him because she was grabbing it. The third day went..well poor Dustin and Mike were scared out of their minds.

Y/n saw the two boys egging Steve while he was curled up in a ball on the ground, crying for help. She chased the kids until they were out of sight, then helped Steve wipe all the egg shells off of himself. Dustin and Mike didn’t forgive Steve for a bit.

Fourth attempt..Steve managed to get Eleven’s help, having her bump Y/n’s car into Steve’s, not damaging either, but still making it enough to scare Y/n. The teen jumped out, apologizing to Steve.

It was usually successful, Y/n always fell for his charms at the end of their conversations. At one point he even got her phone number, but he knew he could never use it.

He made her fall in love with him everyday. It made them both happy. And Y/n’s dad noticed. Today was around the 67th time he waited for her. Not to his favor, her dad showed up this time. Y/n had talked to him today but had to hurry home due to her father finding out of Harrington’s “meetings” with her. The buff brother of her’s was behind their dad again, possibly flexing his muscles to make up for something.

“Sir, I’m really sorry, I can st-”

“No, come with me. Sit in the back with y/b/n.” Steve nodded and did as Y/n’s dad instructed him to do. He was honestly to scared to argue.

When they arrived at the house, y/b/n and his dad took Steve to a shed. Inside the shed, a lovely voice was singing. The song wasn’t that familiar to Steve, but it seemed quite familiar to the men standing next to him. Y/b/n opened the door slightly, allowing them to see Y/n as she painted a mural on the walls.

“I can’t smile without you, I can’t smile without you. I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing, I’m findin’ it hard to do anything!” She dipped her paintbrush into the paint before continuing. “You see I feel sad when you’re sad, I feel glad when you’re glad. If you only knew, what I’m going through, I just can’t smile!”

Closing the door, her father turned to Steve. “She sings this every day that she meets you. It was her mom and I’s wedding song.”

Steve felt honored, even blushing a bit. He really meant a lot to the girl, and he didn’t even know. Even if she couldn’t remember him the next day, it was making him, Y/b/n, and Y/n’s dad happy.

“It makes me think of her mother, and that makes me glad. I originally was going to make you stop when I had found out...but it makes her day.”

Y/b/n scoffed. “But dad. This guy-” He had a lisp. That’s why he was flexing and not speaking. He was flexing so he could make up for lisp. What was so wrong with having a lisp? Maybe he was insecure? Steve didn’t think anything bad of it though.

“Oh shut up y/b/n. Just, keep doin’ what you’re doin’ Steve.”

“Sir yes sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir, son. Call me y/d/n. And don’t let y/b/n bother you, okay?”

Steve nodded and waved goodbye to the father and son duo, thinking of the next time he would see Y/n. Thinking of new ways to make her fall in love with him. Maybe he’d sing that song to her.

. . .

The brunette was just about to go find Steve so she could introduce him to her friend, however.. Steve had other plans.

“I just can’t smile! Now some people say, happiness takes, so very long to find. Well I’m findin’ it hard, leaving your love behind me! And you see, I can’t smile without you, I can’t smile without you! I can’t laugh and I can’t sing, I’m finding it hard to-” A smile found it’s way onto Steve’s face upon seeing the girls. “Well hello Robin. Who might this lovely woman be?”

Y/n blushed, looking down and moving a foot behind the other in shyness. “I’m y/n. You listen to Barry Manilow too?”

“Fuck yeah I do! Can’t Smile Without You is my all time favorite song.” He felt bad lying, but his heart was begging to see her smile. Plus, he was sure that y/d/n would enjoy that as well.

“Same! It was my mom and dad’s wedding song, so I love it even more. Do you by chance, have time to chat during your lunch break?”

. . .

It had now been a year or so since Y/n had met Steve for the actual first time, and now they had exchanged a kiss a couple times, even gone on dates. He was in love with the woman who could never remember him. Steve was planning on treating Y/n to an ice cream cone as a gift when they “met” but...today wasn’t the best of days for Y/n L/n.

She had the tour as usual, meeting Steve in the special way he made for that day. It all ended horribly though. Steve and Robin walked Y/n to the parking lot, when Y/n noticed a police officer looking at her car and writing a ticket. Robin gave Steve the most terrified look that he’d ever seen.

“What!? You’ve gotta be kidding. Um sir, the tags don’t expire for seven months!”

“They expired May of this year.”

“No! No! No! They expire May of next year!”

Steve rushed over with Robin and another worker by his side. He didn’t know what would happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. “Officer I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Well I don’t.” the officer handed Y/n the ticket.

“No, this is ridiculous. I’m not paying this! It’s October!” Y/n turned to the worker, who had a newspaper in their hands. She swiped it from them, “Excuse me, can I borrow this?” The worker nodded as Y/n opened it to the date. “Look, Oct-ober.”

Robin had reached for Y/n’s arms, trying to stop her from reading it. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful. “Come on Y/n, let’s go back inside.” She knew she was too late by the time Y/n’s face contorted in confusion.

“...What?” Y/n ran to the newspaper box by the door of the mall, grabbing them all out and looking at the dates. “What!?” Running back to her car, she drove home. She demanded to know what was going on. Why was everything wrong?

Her questions were answered. Her father showed her the stack of old newspapers he had printed out from the day of the crash. It was too much for her to handle. She ran outside, crying. The men, including Steve, chased after her, leading them to a dock near her house. She screamed out, asking why. Her father handed her a folder, full of the documents and pictures from her injury..she asked if she could go to the hospital to hear it for herself.

. . .

Y/n was told to sit in front of the TV as a man with nice looking hair put in a VHS tape. When the tape played, her eyes filled with tears, she laughed at some points, but that didn’t mean the tears weren’t there.

“Good morning Y/n! You’ve missed a bit in the past year. Especially some funny moments. So, I came up with a way for you to remember them.” Steve’s prerecorded voice came out through the TV. Recordings that Robin took of Steve and Y/n played, then some of Y/n and Robin, there were even some of Steve’s “kids.” Y/n giggled when she saw a small recording of Dustin mimicking Steve’s hair with his own, teasing him for his love for Y/n. “Ignore that little video...anyways that was Dustin. He’s my favorite kid, but you’re my favorite person.”

Y/n looked over to Steve, who smiled back and gestured to the TV. The final part of the video played, showing the contents of the folder to Y/n. Y/d/n and Y/b/n made curious glances at Steve.

The video had ended with Steve being recorded by Max. “I know what you’re thinking Y/n, and I know that you’re probably confused. Just know that I love you, your dad loves you, Robin loves you, your brother loves you...even Dustin and Mike love you after you chased them and gave them a run for their money. The point is, you are loved and supported, we will always be here for you.”

Steve sighed. He didn’t know if Y/n would react differently than the way she did when she found out with her parking tickets or not.

He was soon found in a warm embrace from his forgetful girlfriend. “So, you’re the man I dream of? That explains a lot..” She may have forgotten him in her brain, but her heart would always remember the man who stole itself from her.

#steve harrington #50 first dates #50 first dates au #forgetful lucy #steve harrington x reader #sad love story #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington x petite reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #x reader #reader insert

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caelesjjk · 5 years

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something else | m.c.

Greetings my loves! Enjoy this very lovey dovey Michael fic! It was so fun to write!

“I have a desire for every inch of you. The smell of your breath on my needing lips, the taste of you under the covers and your voice rummaging through every vein in my body.”

The smell of fresh ink and cleaning supplies was almost comforting to Cat Cooper. She found herself hanging out in her best friends tattoo shop more than anywhere else. The buzzing sound of needles could have soothed her to sleep if she tried. She loved watching Michael create beautiful art on strangers’ skin. And now and then, on her own. Cat was not by any means covered in tattoos, most of her ink easily hidden, but those few hours where Michael was heavily concentrating on making her tattoos just perfect were more intimate than she could explain.

The building Michael had bought had once looked like nothing more than a headache. But with the determination and help from his friends and family he was able to turn it into the absolute perfect tattoo shop. He made sure it was warm and welcoming on the inside with the brick walls painted browns and creams. Of course there was a huge mural painted on the back wall, Michael had put hours into it. The other walls were covered in vintage posters and records that Michael had collected over the years. And when Calum and Luke had come to work with him, he let them out their own touches into their booths and around the rest of the shop. It was home for all of them.

Right now, Cat was lying on the tattoo table with her arms stretched above her head. Michael was on the stool next to her, his newly dyed neon green hair poking out from beneath his black snapback. The tip of his tongue was just barely peeking out the corner of his dark pink lips while he concentrated. Cat couldn’t help but smile at his face, no matter how many times she had seen him do that exact same thing.

Michael was currently tattooing a fairly large owl piece just below Cat’s breasts. It hurt more than she wanted to admit, it was the biggest one she had gotten so far. Michael tried his best to be gentle, but the placement was just in a sensitive spot all together.

“Did you find someone to fill your empty booth yet?” Cat asked between wincing in pain.

“Not yet. But we will. I’m just wanting to make sure the next person fits in with what we’ve got going here, ya know?” Michael wiped some excess ink from Cat’s skin, taking a moment to look up and meet her eyes.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want another Alonzo.” Cat smiled widely, listening to Michael’s perfect laugh as he remembered Alonzo.

“No. We certainly don’t.” Michael shook his head and licked his lips before twisting a bit to dip his tattoo gun in the black ink cups on his side table. “Almost done with the outline, okay?”

“You enjoy torturing me.” Cat sighed, maneuvering back into position.

“My only pleasure in life.” Michael said with a smirk as he pressed the needles back to her skin. Cat continued to watch his face until his eyebrows furrowed together, which was slightly out of character for him.

“What’s the matter?” Cat asked, her own eyebrows furrowing together in concern.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Michael bit into his bottom lip has he continued the solid lines of Cat’s tattoo.

“Spill Mikey. You’re freaking me out.” Cat knew he was about drop something on her. She knew that face better than anyone else did.

“So you know how Liv and I went on that trip to the beach last weekend?” Michael asked, continuing to finish a line of ink. Cat wasn’t a huge fan of Michael’s girlfriend Liv, but she tolerated her for his sake. The girlfriends never lasted, and Cat liked it that way.

“Did you guys break up?” Cat hated the way she almost sounded excited. She tried not to make it extremely obvious that she was in love with her best friend.

“No…” Michael didn’t finish his sentence right away. He took a moment to think it over again but made sure he didn’t look Cat in the eye as he continued speaking. “I um…I actually asked her to marry me.” He cleared his throat lightly and Cat almost rolled off the table in surprise. “Jesus, Cat! I could have fucked up the whole tattoo!”

“You asked her to marry you?! Michael are you insane?” Cat didn’t care about the tattoo anymore, she sat up and then stood before crossing the room, trying to put distance between the two of them so that she didn’t put him in a choke hold.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay? We haven’t been together all that long but Liv is different. She’s the one for me, Cat.” Michael sat his tattoo gun down and slipped off his rubber gloves.

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking right now, Michael Clifford.” Cat scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and immediately regretting it when she bumps her fresh tattoo.

“Please just be happy for me? Please? I need you to be my best man.” He smiles gently and takes a few steps towards her with his hands up in surrender.

“Your best man? You did just hear what you said, right?” Cat shakes her head and looks away from him. Staring off in the corner, anywhere but at Michael. Her heart was ready to break and she knew if she looked at him now she would give in.

“You know what I mean, Kitty. I need you while I go through this.” Michael moved around the tattoo table to stand just a few feet from her. He was the only one who was allowed to call her Kitty.

“Liv doesn’t even like me, Mike.” Cat sighed, knowing she would rather live the rest of her life being in love with someone she could never have than upset him in any way.

“Of course she does babe, she loves you!” Michael reaches out and takes Cat’s hands in his pulling them up and holding them against his chest.

“Michael…I don’t know.” Cat tried to look away, but one of Michael’s hands was coming down and capturing her chin between his fingers and bringing her eyes back up to his.

“You’re…you’re the most important person in the world to me. And I need you.” Michael spoke softly and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. Cat knew she was done for. She loved him too much to be angry with him. It’s not like he knew she was in love with him, that would require Cat to grow a pair and tell him how she felt.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cat asked, carefully reaching up and taking his hand off of her chin and sighing beneath her breath. Michael leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Cat’s forehead.

“Of course I am, Kitty. This is what I want.” Michael had the cutest puppy dog eyes as he begged for Cat to agree to his request.

Cat was truly wishing she had a moment to think this over. Would it be more painful to tell him how she felt right now and get turned down, or watch him marry someone else? She honestly didn’t know. Both scenarios were something she didn’t think she would ever have to deal with. It had always been just the two of them, and that’s how life should have gone on, at least in Cat’s mind. But she was too late and too naïve if she honestly thought someone else out there wasn’t going to realize how sweet, kind, and loving her best friend was. She just wasn’t ready to share him.

“Michael…” Cat started to say, looking up to meet his bright green orbs that were looking down at her expectantly with just the slightest bit of worry behind them. “Okay. If this is what you really want.”

Long arms scooped her up and held her against his body. Cat wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck and closed her eyes and let his scent engulf her. Michael’s face was buried in Cat’s neck and he could not possibly have held her any tighter than he already was. She knew there were tears welling up in the corners of her eyes when she felt one roll down her cheek and stain Michael’s white tshirt. He didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t mind. It wasn’t like she hadn’t cried in front of him hundreds of times over the years. But never once had he been the cause of them.

“I knew I could count on you.” Michael lips were practically brushing over her neck as he spoke. Cat did her best to pull herself together when he slowly released her.

“So when’s the big day?” Cat discreetly dabbed beneath her eyes and sniffled her nose. Michael pretended not to notice, but he noticed everything about her.

“Well Liv is like…really excited ya know? So 3 months?” Michael rubbed the back of his neck.

“3 months?” Cat choked on air as she started coughing and clearing her throat.

“Yeah. I mean why wait right?” Michael nibbled at his lip nervously. And that slightest bit of nervousness was all Cat needed to know. Now she knew he wasn’t as sure as he was pretending to be.

“Okay. Um, yeah. Whatever you want Mikey.” Cat stepped around him and headed back over to the tattoo table, sitting down and releasing a long breath.

“Hey. We’re okay right? Nothing is going to change?” Michael followed, not going to his seat on the stool just yet.

“Yeah, bub. We’re good.” Cat said the words, but she didn’t mean them. Because everything was going to change. Michael nodded and went back to his station to finish Cat’s tattoo.

It had been a few weeks since Michael had dumped his engagement news on Cat. She wasn’t having an easy time adjusting to the idea of her best friend belonging to someone else. And to make things even worse, tonight was Michael and Liv’s engagement party. Everyone was getting together in Michael’s backyard to celebrate the happy couple. Cat had changed outfits at least 12 times and was on the verge of being late for the party. She had no idea how she was going to hold it together but she knew she had to. She had been somewhat avoiding Michael the past few weeks, only talking to him enough to keep him from worrying. But when she hadn’t been by the shop for a few days he got suspicious and insisted that the two of them talk tonight at the party.

Finally deciding a red tshirt dress that she dressed up with nude pumps and some dangly earrings, Cat finally left her apartment to drive over to Michael’s place. The neighborhood he lived in wasn’t far from hers, but Michael’s tattoo shop had been doing so well the past year that he was able to buy his own house. It was a cute little red brick house with a pointy roof and huge bay windows in the front. There were huge hydrangea bushes on either side of the sidewalk leading up to the front door and their smell was heavenly. But Cat’s favorite part of the house was Michael’s back patio. There was a huge sitting area and a fire pit right in the center of it. He had also set up a couple of pergola’s with soft couches and strings of white lights hanging from them. It always looked so perfect.

Tonight was no different. The whole yard was full of friends and family of Michael and Liv. Talking, laughing, and eating snacks from the huge spread that Cat assumed only Michael’s mom could have pulled off. Cat took a few deep breaths as she approached the back gate and slowly pushed it open. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for Michael to know she was here just yet, so she made sure to not make her presence well known. She grabbed a glass and mixed herself a very strong rum and coke. Something to help her nerves subside until she could get the hell out of here.

“When did you get here, best man?” The familiar voice of Ashton Irwin asked as he approached the drink table next where Cat was standing.

“Just now. How are things going here?” Cat took a long drink from her glass, cringing slightly from the strong taste of rum in the drink.

“So far so good. This is a bit crazy, don’t you think?” Ashton asked, sipping from his glass. Thank god for Ashton, always being the voice of reason in their friend group.

“You think so too?” Cat sighed, another drink sending shivers down her spine.

“Slow down there, boozie. What’s with you?” Ashton giggled before turning to face Cat.

“I just think this is a really bad idea. That’s all.” Cat turned back towards the table to mix another drink and to keep from looking Ashton in the eye.

“I’ll be around when you’re ready to tell me what’s actually bothering you.” Ashton said the words quietly and then walked over to a group of friends. Cat was left at the drink table alone with her drink again. At least for a moment.

“You’re being awfully unsociable.” Karen Clifford was approaching Cat with her arms open for a hug. Cat smiled widely and closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around her best friends mom.

“I’m so happy to see you, Mrs. C.” Cat squeezed her once more before stepping back so she could look at her. Karen had always been a second mom whom Cat adored.

“Tell me sweetheart, what are you doing over here alone?” Karen asked, a look of concern on her features.

“I just needed a minute.” Cat took another drink from her glass, trying to look less uncomfortable.

“Are you sure it’s not because my son is completely oblivious to the fact that you’re in love with him and now he’s marrying someone else because the two of you are too stubborn to admit it to eachother?” Karen raised an eyebrow and Cat almost choked on her drink.

“What? Absolutely not, Mrs. C. That’s…that just crazy talk.” Cat forced a fake laugh as a look of complete horror took over her face.

“You might be able to fool everyone else, including Michael, but not me my dear. I watched the two of you grow up together, including that extremely awkward year the two of you went through puberty at the same time.” Karen shivered at the memory. “But one thing that has never changed, is how much you love him. And he loves you too, he just doesn’t understand it.” Karen Clifford had just completely overwhelmed Cat with all this information.

“You’ve known for that long?” Cat finally squeaked out, swallowing hard.

“Oh your mother knew too. The two of you and your oblivious love for each other was the topic of our conversations for years. Still is from time to time.” Karen poured herself a glass of tea, coming to stand next to Cat shoulder to shoulder. Cat bit her bottom lip before she spoke again, taking a second to let it sink in.

“What do I do, Mrs. C.?” Cat didn’t think there was much point in denying it anymore.

“You’ll figure out, darling.” Karen used her hand to pull Cat’s face down to hers and kissed her cheek quickly before returning to Daryl and some other friends under one of the pergola’s. Cat had no idea what she was supposed to do, she had been denying her feelings for so long that things had finally caught up and now it was practically too late to change anything.

“Kitty!” Michael called out, a huge smile spread across his face as he weaved through the crowd of people to get to her.

“Hi, Mikey.” Cat said as he engulfed her in yet another tight hug that lifted her feet from the ground.

“Why are you standing over here alone? Come over here with us.” Michael sat Cat’s feet back on the ground and tangled his fingers with hers, practically dragging her across the yard. As soon as Liv came into sight, Cat was downing the rest of her drink with her other hand still in Michael’s.

“So happy you could finally join us, Kitty Cat.” Liv’s annoyance was evident in her voice, and she knew Cat despised when she called her Kitty Cat. Her lips were painted a dark purple color that made her skin look even more pale.

“Nice to see you too, Liv.” Cat forced a smile and then watched as Michael quickly released her hand and wrapped it around Liv’s waist instead.

“I really hope you’ll join me and some of the girls for my bachelorette part in a few weeks.” Liv was really piling on the bullshit now.

“That’s a great idea babe! That’ll be fun, right Kitty?” Michael’s excitement was making it extremely hard for Cat to turn this down.

“I mean yeah…I just thought I’d be going with you guys on the Bachelor party. I mean I’m planning the damn thing.” Cat said, desperate to get out of hanging out with Liv and the bitch squad.

“Nonsense, Kitty Cat. Angela is planning the most amazing spa day for us. You really must come.” Liv sipped at her glass of wine, her blue eyes such a contrast to her dyed black hair.

“Just do both, that’d be okay right?” Michael looked at Cat expectantly as Liv laid her head against his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course.” Cat replied, a hiccup leaving her mouth after she spoke. “I’ll be right back.” She quickly made her exit back towards the drink table, but before she got there a hand wrapped around her wrist to stop her.

“What’s with you?” Michael asked, pulling Cat to a stop.

“Nothing. I just needed another drink.” Cat tried to turn away but Michael stopped her again.

“Please stop acting like I don’t know that something is wrong, Cat. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and now you’re acting really strange. Talk to me, please.” Michael pulled on her hand until they were off to the side of the yard away from everyone else.

“This is just a lot for me to take in, Michael. It’s happening so fast.” Cat ran her hand through her hair to push it away from her face.

“I know. But I just need you to trust me.” Michael’s hands went to the front pockets of his black jeans but his eyes never left Cat.

“I trust you, Michael. That’s not it.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Then what?” He looked like he was expecting her to say something that was going to hurt. But she could never.

“I’ll…I’ll just try harder, okay? I promise everything will be fine.” Cat tried her best to be as convincing as possible.

“We don’t make promises we can’t keep, remember?” Michael said. It was impossible to fake anything with the person that knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Then I’ll keep it.” Cat brought one hand up and stuck out her pinky, waiting for Michael to do the same. It was a child’s way of making promises, but effective nonetheless. It only took Michael a second to pull a hand out of his pocket and link his pinky with hers, a small smile lifting at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re the best, Kitty.” He kept his pinky linked with hers and used the other hand to pull her close so he could kiss the top of her head.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cat teased, listening to Michael’s heart while her head was pressed against his chest for another second.

“Come on then, let’s go back to the party.” He released her body and motioned with his head for her to follow, and she did, she always would.

“You really didn’t have to come with me today.” Cat said as Michael opened the door to the dress shop they had just arrived to.

“Who else were you going to bring?” Michael raised a questioning eyebrow, smiling as she walked through the door.

“I’m sure Cal would have come with me.” Cat teased. She knew Michael wasn’t a fan of the “Cal & Cat” train that had once tried to a thing a few years ago.

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen.” Michael ushered her inside, trying to change the subject.

“We only kissed that one time, I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up.” Cat bit into her bottom lip as she walked up to a rack with hanging dresses.

“You know the answer to that.” Michael cleared his throat and fell silent. He stood behind her with his arms crossed, pretending to look out the front window.

“Hey. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t tease. But I really don’t think you should be so worried about Cal breaking my heart. It’s not even a thing anymore” Cat sighed, walking around to the other side of him so he would look at her.

“I just think you can do better, that’s all.” His eyes were the prettiest green Cat had ever seen. Maybe she was biased because she loved him, but there was no one more beautiful than Michael Clifford.

“Let’s just find a dumb dress for me to wear in your wedding, okay?” Cat said quietly, Michael nodding in agreement.

They walked around the store for what seemed like hours, Cat filling hers and Michael’s arms with dress after dress. When she finally had enough, she made her way to the dressing rooms to begin the trying on process.

The whole wedding party was going to be wearing black and white, and Cat was somewhat thankful to hear that. The colors were simple and she had a feeling Michael had a big part in deciding that part at least. Everything was going to be outside with a bit of a gothic theme. That was likely Liv’s idea. Cat knew that Michael would have wanted to get married in his back yard with only the closest people there. They never talked about their wedding ideas much over the years, but when they had, Michael always wanted simple things. And when Cat pictured herself marrying Michael, it was always on New Years eve.

Cat had already tried on three or four dresses when she finally put one on that looked surprisingly amazing. The neck line dipped down so far is was practically nonexistent. It made her chest look much more endowed than she actually was. It clung to her hips slightly but cascaded down loosely and flowed lightly. The material was silky and soft to the touch. Practically perfect.

“Are you going to let me see any of these?” Michael said from outside the dressing room.

“Yeah. I’m coming out, okay?” Cat said, her voice a little shaky. Michael had been with her to try on clothes hundreds of times, she didn’t know why showing him this dress was any different. But she wanted him to like it. More than he’s liked anything else.

Cat took a deep breath and turned the knob on the door, gently pushing it open and listening to the creaking sound the door made as it opened. Michael looked up from his phone when he heard the door, almost dropping it to the ground. He quickly sat the phone down on the chair as he stood up, eyes never leaving Cat while he stared in awe. She was beautiful. Always had been. He hoped that she knew how beautiful he thought she was and made mental notes to start telling her more often. Cat spun around, the skirt of the dress puffing out and making her giggle. Michael smiled, taking her hand and spinngin her around once more so he could look at her.

“Perfection.” Michael said quietly, keeping her hand in his.

“Think so?” Cat smiled nervously.

“Absolutely.” Michael knew the words came out a little dreamily, so he quickly coughed and cleared his throat again, using it as an excuse to look away. “You should get this one. For sure.”

“Okay.” Cat laughed for a second before she went back into the dressing room to get the dress off.

Unfortunately, that process was not going to happen as easily as she had hoped. When Cat started to pull the dress over her head, the material got stuck. Her arms were above her head in a very uncomfortable position and the dress wouldn’t budge. Cat could feel herself start to panic. This was literally every girls nightmare. She continued to spin around and pull at the material but it wasn’t going anywhere without ripping.

“Michael?” Cat said with tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, babe. Whats wrong?” Cat heard his voice come closer to the door of the dressing room.

“I um…I’m stuck.” Cat said with a half crazy laugh at the end of the sentence.

“Stuck?” Michael asked innocently.

“In the dress, Michael!” Cat shouted, leaning back against the cold glass of the mirror and hitting her head against it a few times in frustration.

“Oh, shit. Do you need help?” Michael was genuinely concerned at this point.

“I…yes. But I’m naked…under the dress.” Cat could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment already.

“You didn’t wear underwear?” Michael released a long breath, taking off his snapback and ruffling his hair a few times before putting it back on.

“I didn’t think I was going to get stuck in a dress, okay?!” Cat was about to lose her shit.

“Do you not wear underwear often?” Michael asked.

“Michael!!” Cat practically screamed.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming in.” Michael slowly opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind him. When his eyes focused on Cat again, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud, covering his mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“Stop laughing at me!” Cat sobbed, her face unable to be seen with the dress stuck over her head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s get you out.” Michael laughed again, moving to stand behind her and look for a zipper.

“This is a sign that I shouldn’t get this dress.” Cat sighed, her skin getting goosebumps when Michael started touching her. She hoped he couldn’t tell.

“You’re getting the dress. Even if it does seem to have it out for you.” Michael hands pushed the dress out of the way, exposing the naked bottom half of Cat’s body. The reaction his own body had to seeing it wasn’t what he expected. “Shit.” He whispered under his breath.

“What? Whats wrong? I’m stuck in it forever aren’t I?” Cat whined, shaking Michael out of his thoughts.

“No. Its okay, Kitty. I’m gonna pull it up, and you need to pull your arms down at the same time. Okay?” Michael said, bunching his hands into the material of the dress.

“Okay.” Cat tried to stop blubbering long enough to get herself out the damn dress.

“On three then. One, two, three.” Michael pulled up and Cat went down and the dress came flying off her arms and over her head causing both of them to stumble. Michael’s back went to the mirrored wall and Cat tripped until she was pressed up against him.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Cat said, her heart suddenly realizing that Michael’s hands were on her bare hips attempting to steady her.

“You’re okay?” Michael asked, his mouth dangerously close to his best friends. Cat nodded. “Good…the uh, tattoo healed up nicely.” Michael took his hands off of her hips and Cat quickly scrambled away, grabbing her shirt from the floor and covering herself with it.

“I should…get dressed.” Cat said, her cheeks turning bright red again.

“Yeah. Do that.” Michael looked at her another moment, then rushed out of the dressing room so he could breathe.

Cat was left feeling completely confused. Something strange had just happened.

In a blur, a few more weeks had passed and the gloom of the wedding was getting that much closer. Cat tried busying herself with work and going to the gym as often as possible just to keep her mind off of things, because in all honesty, she hated going to the damn gym. She still made time to see Michael at the tattoo shop, but things were different now, and they both knew it. Conversations revolved around the wedding, and that made things awkward. And talking to Michael had never been awkward.

The impending doom of Liv’s bachelorette party had finally arrived. Cat was told that a limo would be picking her up at her place and that she should be ready at promptly 12:00pm and no later. God forbid the princess be kept waiting for even a moment. Cat rolled her eyes as she shoved the rest of her things into a duffle bag, not bothering to fold them or care that her outfits would likely be wrinkled. And just as she finished zipping up the bag, an obnoxious honking noise came from outside her apartment building. With another roll of her eyes, she threw the bag over her shoulder and took the few flights of stairs down until she reached the door and walked outside.

The white stretch limo was just coming to a stop in the parking lot as Cat slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. Liv and a few of her friends were hanging out the moon roof screeching and attempting to drink champagne from bright pink penis shaped straws.

“Oh god.” Cat said to herself, forcing a smile on her face as the limo driver came to open the door and take her bag.

“Get your ass in here bitch!” Liv’s friend Angela said, making everyone giggle.

“You got it…bitch.” Cat knew she sounded awkward but she climbed inside the limo and settled into a seat as the other girls came down from the moon roof to take their seats.

“Alright ladies, here’s the plan.” Angela paused a moment to grab a glass of champagne, penis straw included, and hand it to Cat. “First stop is the spa, we are getting the total packages today. Then after dinner and drinks, we head out to Club 101 for even more drinks and lots and lots dancing!” Everyone squealed at Angela’s announcement. It was completely unoriginal and unthoughtful. Cat couldn’t help the scoff that left her mouth on accident.

“Is there a problem with the plans, Kitty Cat?” Liv asked, her head cocking to the side.

“Oh, no. Not at all. Sounds super fun.” Cat attached her lips to the pink penis straw, anything to keep from answering another question from the bitch squad.

The first part of the day went off without many incidents. Cat had to admit that all the pampering she was getting at the spa was possibly exactly what she needed to relax in this situation. The only thing she wanted to change was the company she had while getting it. But she was able to get an hour long massage, a mani/pedi, and her hair washed and styled. She felt more refreshed than she had in quite awhile as she finished getting ready for the dreaded night of clubbing ahead.

Cat really had no idea when she got dressed what kind of fresh hell she would be walking into. She had decided to wear her favorite pair of black leather shorts with a simple white tank top tucked in. And always feeling like she need some pop of color, after Michael had told her years ago that she wore black too much. She couldn’t help but laugh when he said that, considering he practically wore all black every day. But nonetheless, she had bought a pair of green velvet, calf height, strappy heels. She had no idea it would be such a mission to get them on, but once they were, she had to admit she really loved them.

The wobbly walk down the hall to the other girls hotel room made Cat reconsider a few times, but she pushed through. And when Liv opened the door, Cat suddenly felt very underdressed. They had all practically painted on their black dresses. There was no way they would get out of those things without injuries later in the night.

“Wow. You guys look great.” Cat cleared her throat as she crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to keep attention off of her outfit.

“You too, Kitty Cat.” Liv’s sarcasm was thick, but Cat should honestly be used to it by now.

Cat was quickly handed yet another glass of champagne with a penis straw. This time she simply pulled the straw from the drink and chugged the glass without hesitating.

“Someone’s ready to party!” One of the girls shouted.

“I can’t believe Michael is letting you put this all on his credit card!” Another of the girls said, immediately regretting it when Liv and Angela gave her the death stare.

“I’m sorry…did you just say Michael’s paying for all of this?” Cat felt her stomach twist into the tightest knot possible.

“He offered.” Angela had a look of guilt on her face but continued to force a smile. Liv however, did not look guilty at all.

“He just wanted to do something sweet for his bride, Kitty Cat.” Liv said, her smirk making Cat want to slap it right off her face.

“Are you paying for his Bachelor party? Because I haven’t seen any of that money while I’ve been planning his party.” Cat scowled and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Like I said, it’s a gift from my future husband.” Liv brushed Cat off, suggesting that they all get to the limo before the club got too busy.

It was impossible once they had arrived at Club 101 for Cat to have any fun whatsoever. She felt sick every time one of the other girls ordered another drink and added it to Liv’s tab that was obviously being paid for by Michael’s credit card. Cat had refused any and all drink offers, using her own card to pay for anything she decided to drink. And she had decided to drink a lot. She was on whiskey shot number 7 when things started to get fuzzy. She decided that she needed to get outside and get some air, and when she got there, all she wanted to do was call her best friend. Cat leaned her body against the cold brick wall outside the club and fumbled through her bag until she found her phone. With one eye open so she could stop seeing double, she pressed her finger to Michael’s name and brought the phone to her ear.

“Cat? Whats wrong babe?” Michael’s tired voice said into the speaker.

“I um…” Cat hiccupped loudly before continuing. “I wanna come home. Will you come get me?” She whined into the phone and let her body slip down the wall until her ass had hit the ground.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Liv?” Michael asked. Cat could hear him scrambling around to get out of bed.

“Her and the bitch squad are inside. I don’t fit in with them Mikey. I hate this.” Cat started to blubber, and Michael immediately knew she must have been drinking whiskey. He laughed quietly.

“Alright, Mrs. Jack Daniels. Stay right where you are and don’t move. I’ll be there in a few.” Michael hung up the phone and Cat suddenly had a huge smile on her face. She wanted to see him more than anything right now.

Cat had started to drift off when she felt familiar hands cup her cheeks and rough thumbs swipe below her eyes.

“Hey there, sweet girl. Let’s get you home, okay?” Michael talked softly, the sound of his voice bringing that smile back to Cat’s face.

“Mm. I missed you.” Cat wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as Michael stood up and brought her with him.

“Missed you too.” Michael let her lean against him as he walked her to the car, opening the door and gently lowering her into the seat.

“Michael?” A voice said from over by the club door. A voice that Cat knew was about ruin everything.

“Stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back.” Michael said as he quickly shut the car door, not giving Cat a chance to protest. She watched out the window as Michael jogged over to where Liv was standing with her arms crossed.

From what Cat could tell, it looked like Liv was pissed off and yelling who knows what at Michael. He seemed to just take it for a few minutes and then she must have said something that he didn’t want to hear because he started yelling back. His hands pushed his neon green hair back in frustration. Cat wished she could hear what they were saying, so she attempted to open her door and step out. In the process, her ridiculous strappy heel decided to obey the laws of gravity causing Cat to stumble. She grabbed onto the car door to hold herself up, but not before a screech left her lips and Liv and Michael both turned to look at her. Cat froze, her whiskey filled veins making it extremely difficult to hang onto the door.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Cat heard Michael say.

“Go ahead, Michael. Run back to your little bitch.” Liv snapped as he started to turn away.

“Don’t you ever fucking call her that.” Michael snapped back, anger in his voice that Cat hadn’t heard in a very long time. He turned away, leaving Liv by the door.

“Michael…I’m…” Cat tried saying as he approached the car.

“Come here, Kitty.” Michael wrapped his arms around her waist and helped pull her to her feet and back into her seat in the car. He closed the door again, this time jogging around the other side of the car and getting into the drivers seat.

“I’m sorry.” Cat said, her head laying back against the headrest and her eyes on him.

“Don’t be. I just want to get you home safe.” Michael pulled out of the parking lot, not saying anything else for the rest of the drive back to Cat’s apartment building. He only sung quietly along with the radio, but didn’t seem angry with her like she thought he would be.

By the time they had parked in the parking lot of Cat’s building she felt like she was practically sober again. Michael continued to stay quiet as he opened his door and climbed out of the car. Cat watched him shove his hands into his pockets as he walked around the front of the car and over to her door, opening it and offering his hand to help her out. Cat bit her lower lip, taking his hand and letting him lead her inside the front doors of her apartment building, still not saying a word.

Michael approached the elevators with Cat’s hand still in his, pressing the Up button and quickly stepping onto it when the doors opened. He released her hand when the doors closed and he pushed her the button for her floor with a long sigh leaving his lips.

“Michael…” Cat started.

“Not now, Cat.” Michael didn’t even bother to look up and Cat decided it was best not to push it any further.

The elevator was dinging as they passed each floor, when it car suddenly started shaking before it came to a complete stop. All the buttons and arrows inside started blinking and the lights above their heads started flashing on and off.

“What the fuck?” Michael said, leaning forward and pushing all the buttons on the elevator pad, none of them doing anything but blink. “No fucking way.” He tried to use his fingers to pry open the door but it was no use.

“We have to push the Call button.” Cat said from behind him, her back pressed to the mirrored wall.

“Really, Caterina? You think I haven’t tried that?” Michael snapped, huffing and turning back to the buttons, pounding at them with his fist.

“That’s not going to help.” Cat could feel herself start to get angry now.

“I can’t be in here with you right now.” Michael pressed his forehead to the doors.

“Wh..why?” Cat’s voice was laced with confusion at that statement.

“Nothing. It’s nothing alright?” He started to pace back and forth across the small space, making Cat want to strangle him.

“Stop pacing Michael!” Cat yelled. They had only been trapped for two minutes and they were both already losing it.

“Hey folks. We are working on getting you out of there as quick as we can. Hang tight.” A voice said over the speaker on the wall of the elevator.

The two of them relaxed slightly, retreating to either side of the elevator and sitting down against the wall. Time was passing extremely slow, and Cat wasn’t sure how much more she could take with Michael refusing to talk to her.

“What did Liv say to you earlier?” She finally asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Michael closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Since when do you keep things from me?” Cat’s voice was laced with disappointment.

“Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.” Michael moved away from the wall and snapped his eyes open so quickly it made Cat jump slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Cat looked down at her hands and fiddled her fingers nervously.

“Liv thinks you’re in love with me, Cat. And so does everyone else apparently. I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. How exactly am I supposed to react to something like that?” Michael scooted closer to Cat across the floor of the elevator.

Cat had no idea what she was supposed to say. Her mouth had dropped open in surprise and her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears. How did she get out of this? Or did she just go ahead and tell him how’s she felt since she was 8 years old?

“Do you remember that time when we were about 8 years old, and we were playing hide and seek in the woods behind your house?” Cat asked, her voice shaking with nerves.

“We did that hundreds of times Cat…” Michael started to say.

“This was the time I got lost, remember that? I wondered too far and I couldn’t see the path anymore. I was out there for an hour or more just crying and saying your name over and over. And finally, when I wanted to give up, you found me. You hugged me so tight and you said you’d always find me no matter where I went. That’s when I knew.” Cat smiled while the tears started welling up in her eyes.

“That’s when you knew what?” Michael closed the space between them, scooting across the floor until their legs were touching and he could reach up and hold her face in hands. This girl was his whole world and he hated seeing her cry more than anything.

“That I loved you. I wasn’t in love with you then…but it opened the door for that to happen later on. I didn’t mean to…it just happened. I’m sorry for blubbering….” Cat had started talking fast and wishing she could stop and then she did, when Michael’s lips covered hers in the kiss she had been dying for.

Her eyes fell shut as she parted her own lips and kissed him back like it was the most natural thing that could be happening. Michael’s fingers were in her hair pulling her closer and deepening the kiss until Cat’s tongue swiped over his lips. His nose bumped hers when his tongue swiped into her mouth. She tasted like whiskey and mint gum, and Michael thought that it was practically perfect and so very Cat. And then it was like something suddenly reminded him that he was kissing his best friend and Michael pulled away and scrambled up to his feet, pressing his back to the wall.

“I um…fuck. I can’t believe I just did that.” Michael had a look of pure panic on his face.

“Did it feel wrong?” Cat asked, standing up and looking to him for an answer.

“No. And that’s why I should not have done it.” Michael was confused and so was Cat.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Cat ran her hands through her hair and watched Michael’s face as he thought things over.

“None of this does, Cat.” Michael laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.

“Mikey…” Cat approached him slowly, hands coming up to cup his neck and when he didn’t pull away she slid her fingers to the nape of his neck and touched the soft hairs that hung there. Michael’s hands instinctively went to her hips, digging his fingers into her soft skin to try and keep himself from kissing her again the way he wanted to. So very desperately.

Cat couldn’t think of the right way to say the things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that it was supposed to be her. She was the one that should be kissing him goodnight and waking up next to him every morning. She knew him inside and out. And something about the way he was looking at her now told her that he was realizing that maybe he felt something too.

“My hearts going to explode.” Michael said, releasing a long breath.

“Mine too.” Cat laughed, her skin burning when Michael’s hands slipped under her shirt to rest on her lower back.

“Softer than I imagined.” He whispered the words and pressed his forehead against hers.

“You imagined me?” Cat swallowed hard, her mouth going dry.

“More than I’d like to admit.” Michael smiled, hands still roaming her back, “I just thought it was weird hormone shit when we were younger. But even after we weren’t teenagers anymore…still thought about how you’d feel…” Michael was spilling his guts and Cat knew she needed to give him more of herself so that he wouldn’t stop.

“I’ve always just wanted you.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his lips parting and hot breath fanning her lips. “I don’t think there could ever be anyone else.”

Michael couldn’t, nor did he want to deprive himself from the way Cat’s lips tasted any longer. He looked her in the eyes and searched for any type of regret, and when he didn’t find any he quickly connected his lips to hers again. It was harder and more rushed than the first one. Sloppy lips and searching tongues. Their breaths mixed together and their bodies pressed tightly. Michael walked Cat backwards until her back hit the mirrored wall of the elevator, thoughts of escaping the confined space were long gone from his mind. Cat’s hands locked into the strands of his bright green hair and made sure he knew he was not to stop kissing her. Michael’s hips pressed harshly into hers, making soft moans leave her lips. Michael swallowed the sounds and committed them to memory.

They were too lost in each other to hear the doors of the elevator push open. It wasn’t until the sound of someone clearing their throat was heard that they pulled apart. Michael turned around to see Liv and a firefighter standing at the doors. The firefighter looked sympathetic and Liv looked devastated. She didn’t say a word, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned away and took off for the front doors.

“Liv!” Michael called after her, unwrapping himself from Cat and pushing past the firefighter.

“Michael stop!” Cat called after him, he stopped and turned back to look at her long enough to say the most hurtful thing he could possibly say,

“I can’t.” Was all he needed to say, and he was running out the door.

Cat could feel her heart drop to her stomach and her breath leave her lungs completely. She had never wanted to be invisible more in her entire life. She shamefully walked out of the elevator and made a beeline for her apartment. She wanted to lock herself inside and never see the light of day again.

When the time came a few weeks later for Michael’s bachelor party, Cat made sure to send all the information to Ashton. She knew that she couldn’t go anymore. The only time Michael had spoken to her was a text that said “Wedding is still on.” It was enough to send Cat into a spiral of self destruction.

She stopped talking to anyone who might possibly know what happened between her and Michael. She had called in sick to work almost every day to avoid the judgmental eyes of her coworkers when they saw how destroyed she was. Cat became one with her couch and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Staring at the clock on her wall, knowing that the plane was about to take off to take Michael and the guys to Las Vegas for the weekend made her feel pathetic. If she had just kept her feelings tucked away inside like she had been for years instead of telling Michael how she felt, things would still be good. She would still have her best friend.

After finally showering for the first time in what seemed like too long, Cat walked into her kitchen to hopefully finish off the pint of chunky monkey in her freezer. As she opened the freezer door, a quiet knock came from her door. She stared at it a moment before the knocking started getting louder and more frantic.

“Okay, okay.” Cat shouted as she undid the lock and cracked open the door to see who it was. “Michael?” She said, watching as his shoulders rose and fell quickly like he had been running and was completely out of breath.

“Why the fuck did you decide living on the 4th floor was a great idea?” He managed to breathe out while bracing himself against the doorframe.

“What are you doing here? Your planes leaving soon.” Cat opened the door the rest of the way so Michael could step inside. He took one more deep breath before speaking again.

“For now…no more talking.” Michael rushed forward and grabbed Cat’s face in his hands, kissing her roughly.

“Woah! What are you doing?!” Cat pulled her mouth from his unwillingly and took a step back.

“Kissing you?” Michael said. “Do…you not want me to?”

“Michael, you can’t just walk in here and start kissing me after I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” Cat’s voice was loud and confused.

“Things are over with Liv. Things never should have gone that far with her, I’m just an idiot who ended up hurting a lot of people in the process. I’ve been thinking about me and you and all that kissing every second of every day since it happened. And I want that more than anything. I want you.” Michael explained, his voice raising as well.

“What about what I want? Don’t I get a say in this? You don’t always get to dictate how things go.” Cat huffed, standing with her arms crossed and her chest out.

“What do you want then, Kitty?” Michael licked his lips, his patience growing thin, needing to know if she still wanted him.

“You fucked up.” Cat said. “You just left me standing there like a fucking fool.”

“I’m sorry. That was so fucking stupid. But I panicked. I had just gotten caught by my fiancé kissing my best friend. Don’t you think that warrants a moment of panic?” Michael sighed.

“Really fucking stupid. The absolute stupidest.” Cat continued to pile it on, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

“How can I make it better?” Michael took a few steps towards her, eyes glued to hers.

“A little begging wouldn’t hurt.” Cat bit her bottom lip to try and stop her smile from spreading across her face. Michael smirked and shook his head, licking his bright pink lips.

The next thing Cat knew, Michael was dropping to his knees in front of her. Her eyes flew wide open, not expecting him to do such a thing. He leaned forward slightly and pressed his forehead against her lower stomach, hands coming up to hold onto the backs of her thighs. His sweet nose that Cat adored brushed back and forth as he breathed her in. And it didn’t take her long to lace her hands into his hair.

“What are you doing, Mikey?” Cat said quietly, listening to him hum as she continued running her hands through his hair.

“I’m begging you to forgive me.” Michael’s fingers rubbed gentle circles on the backs of Cat’s thighs and his lips pressed sweet little kisses to her clothed stomach. “For being the worlds biggest fucking idiot.”

“I’m probably the bigger idiot to be honest.” Cat sighed, slipping down onto her knees so she could be face to face with him. “But we can’t take it back. So what do we do now?”

“Now…now we make up for lost time. Because we owe it to each other.” Michael’s soft fingers ghosted up and down Cat’s arms.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Cat smiled wickedly, because she knew exactly what she wanted.

“First, I’m going to kiss you again…” Michael leaned forward and Cat did the same, connecting their lips in the sweetest kiss. Soft and full of love. Just lips and soft tongues. It was everything it should have been. “And then, I’m going to lock the door to your apartment. And we are not going to leave it the entire weekend. Or until I’ve had you on every surface, whichever comes first.” Michael laughed against Cat’s lips, making her do the same.

“You’re something else, Michael Clifford.” Cat kissed him again, never wanting to stop the gesture at all.

"Yeah, but I'm your something else." He whispered against her mouth.

"You've always been my something else."

taglist: @maoricth @slimthicccal @bbycal @kinglyhood @sugarcoated-pain @shower-me-with-roses @c-dizzle-swizzlex @calumculture @sugarcoatedcalum @calthesensation @cheyenne-in-wonderland @softboycal @moonlightcalum @unconditionalcalum @irwinkitten @singt0mecalum @angelbabylu @5sosnsfw @aspiringwildfire @myloverboyash @cal-puddies @lashtoncurls @kchillout @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @callllumhood @sick-orca @lfwallscouldtalk

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos fanfiction #5sos blurb #5sos fic #calum hood #Michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #Michael fic #I loved writing for mikey #mikey fic #hes such a sweet angel omg #a sweet fluffy #cth #lrh #afi #mgc #something else

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oliverwxod · 5 years

Text

Rush (Steve Rogers)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, Smuttttt, I mean it’s not much of an endgame spoiler bc I wrote most of it before the film came out, there’s only a really small bit that was from the film.

Summary: Reader attends the same therapy group as Steve, she’s very bitter and he finds her very irritating. (Like imagine sitting across from him and Steve giving you this look) !!

Steve couldn’t stand her for some reason. Every little thing about her made him tick, at the very sight of her he could feel his jaw clench unconsciously and his eyebrows pulled downwards into a frown directed her way.

She could tell from where she sat every other week that the once so called Captain hated her guts. She could see it in the way he looked at her with dark hooded eyes, spelling out how much he disliked her whole being even though she had never done a single thing wrong to him.

Y/n liked to tease. She had always used other peoples hatred towards her to get back at them. So she would meet Steve’s glare with a barely there smirk but she knew he could see it, it showed in the same continuous twitch of his jaw, set in a hard line as he bit back a look of distaste.

She always found herself raising an eyebrow up at him in question, well that’s what Steve assumed it was, but to Y/n it was a look of challenge. She wanted to play the game he was playing with her.

There was only one problem though, Y/n had no idea what this game was and why she was so intrigued into why he hated her.

Sure she could be quite loud, that was just her way of coping with everything, a way to keep herself grounded in this depressing world. They always say humour is the way of hiding and distancing yourself from the real problems around.

Steve hated that she was loud. Yet for someone who had so much to say, she never spoke about herself and why she was at these group sessions. He knew she listened to what everyone else said, so he had to assume that she was benefitting from other peoples experiences and taking their advice and struggles on board.

He was curious about her, he had to admit. But he would never go and ask her what her story was. Because everyone already knew Steve’s story. It was hard not too, it was plastered in every newspaper and magazine around the world, the pressure on him continuous, never laying off for one second to allow him to breathe.

Therapy was the one place he never felt judged.

Until Y/n joined.

“That’s a wrap guys, coffee is to the corner like always” Mike the main counsellor spoke, everyone standing from their seats and making their way over to the coffee pots.

Y/n stayed sat in her seat still staring at the Captain from across the room. Steve was doing the same, making no move to get up and leave. She didn’t want to give in to whatever this situation they created was, but she needed to know why he hated her so much.

She stood up not breaking eye contact, watching as his face twisted into a dark look, his jaw clenching even tighter the closer she got to him before he looked down briefly.

He stayed silent as she sat in the seat next to him, watching the crowd of people slowly disperse out of the room, a couple lingering behind chatting idly to Mike.

“Soooo Captain” she dragged out.

“Steve” he grunted immediately.

“Fine. Steve then” She said glaring at him briefly. “You don’t like me and I want to know why”

He scoffed.

“so?” she prompted but he was giving her nothing. “You know… I always thought Captain America would be a nice person, My parents used to buy me captain America posters and action figures, I dreamed of meeting him as a kid you know, but that would be impossible right? Because he was mean’t to be dead. It was a miracle when they found you, I remember the day so clearly, I was in college and my brother phoned me to tell me to turn the news on and I was so excited.”

Steve listened, still not replying or giving her any acknowledgement, but this was the first time he had the chance to have some insight into his life.

“But I must have been a naive kid right? Believing the papers that he was a ‘kind gentleman’” she spoke giving a small laugh. “A kid can dream though right? It’s just shit growing up and finding out the cold hearted truth.”

He still hadn’t replied the only acknowledgement being the slight barely there relaxing of his clenched jaw.

“See you in two weeks” she spoke, standing up without even looking back at him. His eyes followed her until she was out of sight.

——————————————————————————-

“So, I went on a date this weekend” a man named David was talking about his weekly achievement. Y/n listening intently while Steve watched her.

“It was.. alright; he cried. But so did I and now we’re going on another date next week” David said.

“That’s great” Mike spoke, smiling gently at the man. “Why did you cry?”

“well… we were talking, we got to the conversation of who we lost when everyone disappeared and that’s when we both couldn’t hold back”.

“That’s good. You’ve opened up to each other already.” Mike offered, before he started a conversation about coping methods.

“Anybody else want to add in to the conversation?” Mike asked, his kind voice echoing in the room.

“Steve?” he asked, looking expectantly at the Captain who had spent the whole session staring at Y/n. He shook his head without letting his eyes leave her.

She glared at him, before speaking up for the first time.

“Can I?” Y/n asked.

“Of course” Mike spoke, kind and caring like always. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, seeing she needed encouragement.

“Oh- well- I didn’t think that far” she said, her eyes briefly flicking to meet Steve’s before looking away, her normally confident persona cracking under Steve’s watchful eyes.

“How about you tell us what you’ve done this week?” Mike prompted.

“right.” she spoke nodding slightly. “well…”

It was silent for a while as she tried to think of something, anything to say.

“Okay. So- so this week I went to work… I’ve been working double shifts ever since-” she paused, taking a deep breath. “ever since everyone disappeared. See, the manager, the woman who owns the shop, it was a family run business, she lost her two daughters so I’ve been helping her, taking shifts and covering until she can hire new staff.”

“That’s very kind of you y/n” Mike said, giving her another encouraging smile

“Well, it’s not easy. But it fills my time up- most days you know, it’s - it’s something” she shrugged. “It’s not like I have…”

Y/n paused again, looking up for the first time to meet Steve’s eyes. He was still watching her closely, intently. It was un-nerving.

“Anyone else left” she finished, it was a whisper, said so fast under her breath but they all heard.

“I’m sorry” Mike spoke, his voice sympathetic, Y/n shrugged.

“I’m not the only one who lost someone and I’m sure I’m not the only one who lost every single person.” she said.

“Thank you Y/n” Mike spoke. “Thank you for sharing” she nodded, giving him a tight lipped smile. She wished she had never said anything, sitting for the rest of the session in complete silence, not looking up once to meet Steve’s lingering stare.

———————————————————————————-

“Let me buy you a drink”

A voice startled Y/n as she was picking her bag up to leave. Everyone else had started to make their way over to the coffee pot and snacks, but y/n legged it home every time, the weight of Steve’s presence in the room always confusing her.

She turned around, her backpack clutched tightly in her hands as she stared wide eyed at him.

“I need to get home” she spoke, a pathetic excuse to leave to the comfort of her own bed.

Steve gave her a pointed look, knowing from the last session that she didn’t. She didn’t have anyone she needed to attend to. She huffed aloud knowing it hadn’t worked.

“Fine, but only one” she said, watching as Steve waved goodbye to a couple people before leaving the room. She followed after him, her legs working quickly to catch up to his long super soldier strides.

“Slow down” she huffed. “we’re not all Captain America”

Steve glared at her. “don’t call me that”

“But you are aren’t you?” she said quietly.

“no. I’m Steve. Calling me Captain makes it seem like there’s still some hope out there, I don’t want to be giving anyone false hope”. he said sternly.

“So you don’t- you don’t have any hope?” she asked, her posture slumping slightly at the prospect that not even Captain America was feeling hopeful.

“Do you?” he asked, receiving nothing but silence.

“I may not- but you- you’re Captain America- you can’t give up on the world when we need you most” she stated.

“I said don’t call me that” he glared, stopping in his tracks to look straight at her.

She smirked at him, finally getting him back for making her feel so nervous the previous two sessions.

“Hit a nerve did I?” she asked. Steve almost let out growl as he pushed her up against the wall of a shop, his hand slamming into the brick beside her head. She stared back him, not flinching the whole time.

“You’re so infuriating you know?” his face was close to hers as she met his eyes once again. In fact he was just close to her in every way. Y/n had forgotten how it felt to be so close to someone, the fact hitting her hard, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the need to cry.

But she held it together knowing this was the worst place to let her emotions get the better of her.

Steve was still staring at her, his eyes intruding through hers, like he was searching, there was no way that he couldn’t tell exactly how’s she was feeling in that moment.

“Don’t” she spoke weakly, one hand resting on his chest as she turned her face, Steve had leaned down, his face tilting towards hers as he was about to kiss her.

He stopped when she pushed him way slightly, meeting her eyes yet again in confusion. He had thought that was what she wanted. She broke eye contact with him, staring at the ground now, waiting for him to move his arms so he wasn’t caging her against the wall.

He dropped both arms to rest at his sides, watching her in confusion as she gave him a small smile.

“I’ll see you around Steve” she spoke, calling him by his name for the first time.

——————————————————————-

She wasn’t at the next session. Steve stared at her empty seat all throughout.

Had he really scared her off that much? Did he go too far by trying to kiss her? Was she scared he would do something like that again?

He tried to get involved with the discussion, telling everyone what he had done that week, telling them all to try moving on. But it felt fake to himself. How could he tell people to move on from the snap when he hadn’t even tried to.

Steve skipped the coffee and snacks after, opting to go straight home to shower. He left the centre, taking a right turn that would eventually lead him home.

“Steve” the familiar voice of y/n called out to him.

He turned around, coming face to face with her. He thought she would stop, but instead she carried on walking, right up until she was stood a foot away from him.

“Hi” she spoke.

“Hey” he said softly. “Look y/n- I’m really sorry about last-”

She cut him off, pressing her lips against his in a haste.

Steve was taken aback, his eyes wide and his hands by his sids, not knowing what to do. Not until she kissed him less hesitantly. His hand moved to rest on her waist, pulling her against him as he finally returned the kiss.

“Come back to mine” she said, pulling away and stepping a few feet from him.

Steve frowned, he was never one for a casual hookup. But the sexual tension between the two of them had always been there.

He nodded, taking her outstretched hand and following her. It was silent as they made their way to her apartment block.

————————————————————————–

“We don’t have to -” Steve started to speak as she kissed him softly.

“I want to Steve- I want you” she spoke between kisses. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt pulling it up and over his head with a little help from him.

Y/n was momentarily speechless, taking in his perfection, staring at him until he chuckled to himself, pulling at the bottom of her own t-shirt and lifting it over her head, staring at her hungrily.

“You’re so beautiful” Steve spoke, as he couldn’t help but reach out to touch her bare skin. It had been so long since he let himself indulge in such beauty.

“So are you” She gestured to her bed, watching as he followed her. Steve sat against the headboard watching as she rid herself of her skirt. Climbing onto the bed and moving until she was sat on his lap, straddling him.

Y/n leaned down to kiss him softly before her hands hurried to undo the buckle of his belt, pushing his trousers down as he helped by kicking them off until they hit the ground. She moved her hips forward, rutting against him as his hands rested on the skin of her waist bringing her down closer to him and letting out a pure moan of ecstasy.

She repeated the action wanting to hear the sound fall from his lips again.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Steve asked as she pulled her underwear down her legs, tossing them away in a hurry. She repeated the action with his boxers, carelessly discarding them on the floor.

“Yes” she spoke, her hands wrapping around him as he gasped, his head thrown back in pleasure as she finally touched him where needed.

“Wait” he spoke, catching her hand gently.

“What?” she asked confused, her heart beating fast as she waited for him to reject her at the last minute. Was this part of his game?

“I can’t promise you anything” he spoke. A sentence that actually made sense to her.

“I don’t want anything from you” she said, slightly defensively.

“I’m not in the position to offer you anything- a relationship” he spoke softly, worried she might get the wrong intentions, needing her to know before they went any further.

“I don’t do relationships” she spoke bluntly. “ You don’t need to worry”

Steve nodded, he had a hunch she wasn’t the type to be serious with anybody. He was glad they understood what this was.

She looked away from him, lifting herself slightly in his lap, one hand around his neck to support herself, the other wrapped around him, lining him up with her entrance. His hands resting on her hips ready to guide her onto him. She sunk down onto his length, crying out as she threw her head back.

Steve was quick to pull her down onto him, a firm grip on her hips. His lips connecting to the skin of her neck, making his mark, not that anyone would see it. She lifted herself slightly again, using one of Steve’s shoulders to grip onto tightly. Steve didn’t think he had ever experienced such pleasure. He couldn’t help the loud moan that fell past his lips as he watched y/n use him for her own pleasure. It was thrilling, an unknown feeling to Steve.

His hands were gripping tighter with every movement from her. Until Steve decided she had taken control long enough. Tightly gripping her thighs with both hands and fucking up into her with harsh thrusts, his pace reckless and aggressive now. Y/n moaned loudly, her head falling with exhaustion, resting in the crook of Steves neck as he thrust his hips up into her faster.

She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. In the years since the snap she never let herself get close to anyone, not even for a one night stand; too scared she would get attached and that she would eventually lose them, just like she had lost everyone else.

“Hey” Steve said. “Look at me” he spoke, his voice soft. She didn’t look up at him, her head still resting in his neck, looking at him would make it too intimate and she wasn’t ready for that feeling.

“Hey” he spoke his thumb stroking the inside of her thigh. “Look at me” he spoke again, gently and lovingly. He wanted to see her face, wanted to remember how she looked and commit it to his memory.

Y/n knew she shouldn’t but she lifted her head to meet his eyes, resting her forehead against his. The intensity becoming too much for her. No one had ever looked at her this way before. It was overwhelming and the only words passing through her mind were to not get attached, do not get attached.

Steve moved his hips slowly with purpose watching as her eyes closed in pleasure. Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, not even with being a super soldier. It was effect she was having on him, the effect of not having been with someone for a while.

“Oh fuck” he cried as she clenched around him tightly, crying out as she came, wriggling in his lap. He pulled her hips down so she could no longer move, stilling inside her as he reached his own high.

“wow’ He spoke, his head falling to rest on her shoulder now.

“Yeah. Wow:” she said, having nothing else to say.

She stood up, leaving the warmth of Steve’s body, picking up her clothes and putting them on. Steve hadn’t made to move, just watching her watch him from the other side of the room now.

Y/n wanted him to leave, but she didn’t want to be the one to tell him to go. She assumed he would be gone by now. He got what he wanted, she got what she wanted. There was nothing left to say now.

“You should probably go” she mumbled.

“Oh- right yeah” Steve stumbled over his words. “If that’s what you want” he spoke, his words catching her off guard.

Did she want him to?

She wasn’t sure. Did she want the company or did she want him?

All those questions she was unsure of. She hadn’t felt anything like this for such a long time. Was this a part of his game?

“What do you want?” she asked without being able to stop herself.

“Why are you asking me that?” he asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

“I- don’t know - you were the one who said it first” she said.

“I should go” he suddenly said, standing from her bed to start picking up his clothes. Y/n watched as he redressed, pulling his trousers up his legs and buckling the belt. She stared at the muscles on his back quickly before shaking her self out of it.

“Yeah you should- “ she spoke quietly.

“See you around” Steve said, giving her a small half smile before basically bolting out of the door, leaving Y/n feeling worse than before.

#Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers smut #Steve Rogers au #Steve Rogers x reader #avengers imagine #captain America imagine #Steve Rogers angst #captain america x reader #Captain America smut #avengers endgame #avengers au

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fllmetalheart · 5 years

Text

Just posted a Reddie Haunted House (no Pennywise) AU! Based off this post by the amazing @inevitabletony !!

You can read it here on AO3!

Enjoy! ~

It was October 30th, 1989, the night before Halloween. Richie Tozier had convinced the Losers Club to go to a Haunted House that he saw on a poster in the Arcade. They had all agreed excitedly, wanting to do something fun as a group and wanting to help distract Bill, because it was around this time the year before that his little brother Georgie went missing. When they arrived to the house on Neibolt Street, the line was already going down the street and they had to wait for an hour. It wasn’t until they neared the front of the line that they saw more posters advertising the theme of the night, much to Richie’s horror.

“Clowns? ” He gulped, adjusting his large glasses as he started turning around. “No, fuck this. There are tons of other haunted houses we can check out-”

“Bu-Bu-But we’re here already!” Bill protested and Eddie had to hold Richie back by grabbing onto his arm.

“Yeah, but clowns. Shit, man, you know how I feel about clowns!” Richie tried to keep his voice even, his hand reaching out to grip onto Eddie’s that was still holding onto his arm.

“Hey, man, it’ll be okay,” Mike tried to reassure him with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, we’ll all be together!” Beverly added, her orange mop of hair bobbing as she nodded.

Richie groaned as the line moved another couple inches, and the Losers had to nudge him forward as they now waited in the front of the line, his hand never leaving Eddie’s, “Fuck. Tell me again, whose brilliant idea was this?”

“This was your fucking idea, Einstein. Now move, let’s just get this over with!” Eddie elbowed Richie as they carefully made their way inside the dark, looming house. The Losers remained close as they tiptoed inside the doorway, and Eddie dropped his hand on Richie’s arm so that their fingers were fully intertwined instead. He forced himself to fight the rising blush and swallow his feelings for the time being, wanting to focus on running from the clowns when they’d come popping out but dammit, that was easier said than done when he was holding hands with his secret crush.

His problem was solved just a moment later, when a freaky ass clown wearing scary make up jumped at them from out of nowhere. Richie jumped, his heart thumping as they all screamed. His hand gripped Eddie’s like it was a life line and buried his face into his shoulder; he felt his feet start to run, but he had no idea where he was going. Richie felt Eddie hide his face into his shoulder as well and suddenly he thought that one of them should look where they were going. Chancing it, he hesitantly opened his eyes and saw the Losers still all together, but he and Eddie were now at the back of the line. He could hear a clown’s laugh echoing throughout the hallway, but there wasn’t a clown in sight.

He sighed, “Eds, it’s okay. You can open your eyes now.”

Eddie still had his nose buried in the crook of Richie’s shoulder, but he opened one eye to look around, “Oh, thank G- Fuck!” Heavy footsteps came charging at them from behind, and the two of them shoved the others in front of them. “Go! Go, go, go!”

“Holy shit,” Richie gasped as they ran down the hall, closing his eyes shut again and holding onto Eddie tightly. The pair kept bumping into the corners of walls every time the group took a sharp turn, and because they were at the end of the line, that meant they took the brunt of the jump scares.

Eddie screamed, “Where are we going? Where the fuck do we go!?”

“I don’t know, just fucking move!” They continued like this for the next few minutes, both of them stumbling through the haunted house screaming and cursing, bumping into clowns at what seemed like every turn. At some point, they must’ve broken off from the Losers because while they were still in eye sight, they had fallen back from the group while they clumsily shuffled their way through the house. Eddie curled himself further into Richie’s side when a particularly creepy clown jumped at them from the shadows holding a saw (one that Richie kept telling himself was plastic, that it was just a prop), and Richie wrapped his other arm around him securely, “It’s alright, Eds! I think we’re almost out of this shithole! I’ve got you, man!”

“Why the fuck did you want to go inside a haunted house?” Eddie shouted as they rounded another corner, nearing the end.

“It still beats being inside your mom!” Richie joked, trying to lighten the mood as much as possible.

Eddie elbowed him again, “Oh, would you just fucking - argh! Beep beep, Richie!”

Despite being spooked and chased by one of his biggest fears several times in the past five minutes, Richie laughed and opened his eyes to look at Eddie, who was staring back, his eyes wide. Richie smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but quickly bit his tongue to hold himself back. This wasn’t the time or the place, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit anything just yet - he didn’t even know what he was wanting to admit to! All he knew was that there was nobody else he would rather run through a clown infested crackhead house with than the one and only Eddie Spaghetti.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a blood curdling scream came from beside him and a clown that was hiding behind a post jumped out at them. His eyes snapped shut and the two of them quickly hid their faces in each others shoulders again.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?” Richie yelled, his fists tightly gripping Eddie’s shirt.

“That’s fine by me! Let’s go!” Briefly letting go of each other, they went back to holding hands as they broke into a run with Richie taking the lead.

They were nearly to the exit door when three clowns popped out of their hiding places, and Eddie ran into Richie’s back, both of them screaming as the clowns laughed.

Richie let out a war cry, “Fuck this shit!” And reaching for Eddie’s hand again, he barreled through the clowns until they finally reached the door. They didn’t stop running until they reached the sidewalk, where the others were waiting for them.

“Took you long enough,” Stanley eyed their still intertwined hands.

“Yeah, ha-ha,” Richie rolled his eyes. “We weren’t the ones who left you guys stranded in a fucking crack house.”

“We thought you two were behind us the whole time,” Ben shrugged apologetically.

“What do you guys want to do now?” Beverly asked. “It’s still pretty early.”

“W-W-Wa-Wanna go another r-round?” Bill teased.

“Fuck off,” Richie snorted. “We could go back to my place? My parents would be fine with it. We could watch The Shining or something?”

The Losers agreed and walked down the street back to Eddie’s place, where they had all left their bikes. The entire time, Eddie had yet to let go of Richie’s hand but he was far from complaining, “Ready to go again?”

“As long as we’re not going back into that disgusting house, I’m down for just about anything,” Eddie gagged at the thought of the dusty, cob-webbed house they had just left.

“Oh, you say that now but wait until-”

“If you say something about fucking my mom, I will hit you,” Eddie snapped, but it was without bite.

“Whatever you say, Eddie my love,” He teased, doing another British man impersonation as he started skipping and swinging their hands, “You know you love me.”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes (something he constantly found himself doing in Richie’s presence) but still, a smile tugged on the corners of his lips, and as he squeezed Richie’s hand a little tighter before following his footsteps and skipping as well, he couldn't help but think that maybe he did. Just a little bit.

THE END.

#it (2017)#it chapter two #it #reddie #reddie fic #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #no pennywise au #haunted house au

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incorrectdeceptionquotes · 6 years

Text

It Takes Two

In collaboration with @s4karuna, she introduced this idea by striking up a conversation with me (so glad she did) and we’ve been building on it for a couple months and we finally decided to actually write it! XD

Hope you like it guys!

...And Happy New Year!

O'Leary's was the last stop on Team Deception’s bar hopping night, their usual homecoming tradition when they came back to New York after a national tour. Dina had somehow managed to wrangle Gunther into doing a duet with her while Cameron and Jordan were downing shots in a corner booth, occasionally heckling Gunther.

“Okay...” Jordan slurred. He was a bit of a lightweight and despite having matched shot for shot with him, Cameron didn’t seem as drunk, only slightly tipsy. “Cameron...”

“Yes Jordan?”

“I got a challenge for you.”

“Oh?” Cameron raised his eyebrows, “What are the stakes?”

“If… If you win...” Jordan garbled, “I… will dye my hair… hot pink again.”

Cameron was intrigued, “And if you win?”

“You… will do whatever I say.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow at that. “Uh Jordan, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I just wanna be friends.”

“Ha!” Jordan slapped the table, “You wish you could land this… but no.” Jordan looked to be thinking, “If I win… I have something else in mind...”

“Are… are you going to tell me?”

“Nope! I'll… I’ll only tell you if I win.”

Cameron smirked, “So that’s how you want to play it?” He did another shot, “Fine. What is your challenge?”

“I... dare you... to take a shot.”

“Wait, that’s your challenge?” Cameron snorted, “We've been doing that all night.”

Jordan wagged his finger, “Oh-ho-ho-ho... no, my friend. Not just any... shot.” He downed another, “I’m talking about... the infamous Smoker’s Cough.”

“The Smoker’s Cough?”

“It’s a shot of Jagermeister... topped off with mayonnaise.”

Cameron scrunched his face at that, “Ew, mayonnaise?”

“It’s not… not too late to back out.”

Cameron took another one of the shots in front of him with a shake of his head. “No way.” He swiftly downed the drink, “Take that as an ‘I accept your challenge’.”

“There’s only one rule.” Jordan stated, “You’re not allowed to gag or spit it back after drinking it.” He got from his stool, “I’ll be right back.”

Cameron downed another shot. How bad could this drink be? He’d had worse things before so it couldn’t be as bad as Jordan had implied. A few minutes later, Jordan came back with a shot in hand and sure enough, it was topped with good old fashioned mayonnaise.

“Here… you go.” Jordan shakily placed the drink in front of his friend. He really was a lightweight.

Cameron picked up the shot and eyed it for a moment, “Okay… here goes.”

Jordan watched him as the blue-eyed man shrugged and downed it in one go. He seemed to be alright at first. Then his face scrunched up in disgust as he clapped a hand over his mouth to contain his coughing.

“G’ugh! It's vile!” He wheezed. “What the hell is in that?”

Jordan laughed as Cameron let out a couple of coughs, “I had the bartender…” Jordan slurred, “M-make the drink with Andong soju instead. Packs quite a punch, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah. Can’t help but think--” He coughed again, “That might have be cheating. Not even your hal-abeoji can drink it and he could give vodka guzzling Russian ex-soldiers a run for their money at his age.”

“You never said I couldn’t change anything.”

“Well played Kwon. Well played.” Cameron mumbled, “So what is it you want me to do?” Cameron would be lying if he said that the gleeful look on Jordan’s face didn’t make him feel a little nervous.

Three years later…

The Archive had been host to many Team Deception celebrations over the years, but this had to be a first. Helping the FBI break a major case by doing what the team did best had... sparked something in him for lack of a better word. Through the din of the party, Cameron spotted Kay in the corner, her phone to her ear as--was she smiling just now?

It wasn't like he hadn’t seen her smile before, but this one was different. It was one of pure joy, her eyes radiating every ounce of love in her heart.

It was beautiful. That smile was beautiful.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he only managed to catch Kay saying “--okay, I’ll see you in a minute, honey.”

Wait, what?

Honey? Suddenly, Cameron was very interested to know who she had been talking to. He just wasn’t expecting there to be anyone who would make someone as cool and professional as Kay call them “honey” of all things. He shook his head and escaped to the balcony.

Kay noticed him walk out as she hung up before her eye caught one of his show posters. The past couple of days had showed her that he wasn’t just some playboy illusionist. Magic really was his life. It really meant something to him… and his brother meant everything to him, she could tell. It reminded her so much of her and Caroline in the past, she mused as she joined him on the balcony.

“Hey.” She said as she walked up next to him.

He grinned, “Hey.”

“You did good Cameron.” Kay told him, “Thank you.”

His smile only widened, “Don’t mention it. Sorry we didn’t get off to the best start.”

“Water under the bridge.”

They were silent for a moment. Cameron opened his mouth, about to ask something like so who were you on the phone with if you don’t mind my asking, when he suddenly heard what sounded like little kids squealing in the other room.

“Uh Kay? Are you babysitting or something ‘cause whose kids am I hearing?”

Kay's lips twitched in amusement. “I’m not babysitting, it's a completely different thing.”

Well, if they were going to start working together, she might as well tell him now.

“You don't babysit your own kids.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped. “You have kids?!”

Kay nodded. “Twin girls.” She had been a little hesitant to tell him that part, worried that it might hit a little too close to home. “The sitter’s just bringing them here for me.”

Cameron was about to respond, say anything other than since when do you have kids and when you gonna let me meet them, when he heard shrieking giggles as a pair of tiny toddlers holding hands, dressed in pink and purple tumbled onto the balcony.

“Oh my God,” he gaped, shocked by the sight of two identical girls with round apple cheeks and adorable little dimples waddling over to Kay, “there's two of them.”

It was impossible not to see the resemblance to Kay when they had the same feathery dark curls and bronze skin. They were perfect little copies of their mother... except for the eyes. The girls’ eyes were opal blue and star-like and Cameron’s smile was fading fast because he never considered the possibility of her being married with kids. Even though he had secretly checked her hands several times for a ring only to find nothing.

Kay laughed as she picked up one of the giggling toddlers, who had purple overalls and a gold bunny shaped clip in her hair. “Well, I assume that as a twin yourself, you’d understand that twins generally come in twos.”

Still, he had to admit that even he and Johnny weren't this cute at that age. Kay's genes were truly magical.

“Soooo…” he drawled, “Who’s the lucky guy?” He wasn’t going to try to beat around the bush this time. If she was with someone then he didn’t want to step over any boundaries.

Kay was silent for a moment as she settled her daughter on her hip. “Donor #478.”

Cameron scrunched his nose in confusion.

“There’s not really a father in the picture,” Kay explained, straightforward as always. “I honestly couldn’t tell you who he is if I wanted to. Kind of the point.” That wasn’t the part that confused him. It was just… there was something about that number. Something familiar.

“You’re a single mom?”

Kay nodded, unashamed. She decided a long time ago that she wasn't going to have a partner and ended up with two when she went in for one. She suspected that identical twins ran in the donor's family. Kay's mother had helped take care of the girls until her strength had failed and she would've been completely alone if it weren't for Mike and Lara.

“That’s… kind of amazing,” he grinned in wonder.

Kay chuckled, “Well not everybody thinks so.”

“Eh, screw what other people think.”

He suddenly felt a tiny hand tug at his pant leg. He looked down and found a familiar pair of blue eyes staring up at him in wonder. The girls had obviously inherited Kay's impossibly long eyelashes and he was positive that they would destroy hearts someday just like their mother.

He crouched down, smiling at the little girl, still amazed at the power of genetics. “Hi there.”

The girls were nearly identical, but this one had hair that was a shade or two lighter than her sister and a pink penguin print headband that matched her overalls.

“That’s Liya.” Kay explained.

“Hi Liya.”

Liya eagerly raised her arms up and her tiny voice squeaked, “Up. Up.”

Cameron gave a quick look to Kay, “Do you mind?”

Kay looked a little surprised. Liya wasn’t usually so friendly with strangers. The agent shook her head before she thought much of it. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

Cameron scooped up the little girl and she beamed up at him. He paused as he noticed Kay’s unreadable expression, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just… Liya usually isn’t so welcoming to new people.”

“Well, maybe she can tell I’m not so bad.” Liya rested her head on Cameron’s shoulder. He briefly caught the comforting scent of baby powder as she did so and it made him melt a little. “Who’s this other little lady?”

“This is my oldest, Ayana.” Cameron smiled at the toddler and Ayana gave him a tiny smile. “Ayana, you can say hi.”

Ayana waved and squeaked a little, “Hi.”

Cameron grinned at the little girl, “Hi Ayana.” The little girl buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and yeah, he was just about dying from the sheer cuteness of the Daniels girls.

“So Liya and Ayana, huh?”

“My mother's Ethiopian. Her grandmother came here from Addis Ababa all by herself to start a new life and I think she would've had some very strong words with me if I didn't follow the Assefa family tradition.”

Cameron chuckled as a thought popped into his head. “Does this mean that Kay's just a nickname?”

Kay rolled her eyes. “Cameron Black, you can't expect me to give away all my secrets.” She'd keep her birth name to herself for a while.

“Eh, between Mike the fanboy and Jordan’s hacking, I'll figure it out eventually. How old are the girls anyway?”

“They just turned two a couple of weeks ago.”

“Wow. Well, I should get them something then. How do they feel about stuffed animals?”

Kay chuckled, “Cameron, that’s sweet but--”

“No, no, I’m serious. Two is a big milestone.” He grinned. Somehow, for a moment, he wasn’t feeling hopeless.

“So what's next?” Kay asked, “You go after the mystery woman who framed Jonathan? I still have to prove she did it.” Cameron figured she was right, “What about your show, your team?”

“When we were kids,” Cameron started, “I was the performer, the onstage persona, but Johnny was ‘The Disappearing Boy’ hidden under the stage, behind the curtain, but he was always there for me...” He turned to face the agent he’s decided he’s befriended, “I have to get him out, Kay.” He could feel Liya’s little arms wrap around his neck in a pseudo hug, almost like she was trying to comfort him. Kay nodded in understanding, “I did notice something. Jonathan's illusionist copied every detail from your disappearing-jet trick except one.” Cameron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You watched my special?” He turned his head to the toddler in his arms, “Did your mom watch my special?” Liya just giggled.

Kay laughed, “Okay. I saw it. It was fantastic.” Cameron grinned in disbelief, “Fantastic? Wow.” “After you made your jet disappear, you left something behind. Deck of playing cards.” Cameron nodded in realization, “We should go back to the hangar and make sure she didn't--” He was cut off by Kay pulling out an evidence bag with a deck of cards in it. He chuckled, “You already went.” She grinned. There was that smile again, “This is where I say ‘ta-da,’ right?” Ayana giggled at the way her mother was speaking. Despite being so young, Ayana and Liya never heard their mother sound so playful.

“Yeah.” Cameron smiled as he reached for the deck, “May I?” She handed him the bag. He pulled out the deck. It made a few beeping noises before it started to ring. He answered.

“Hello Cameron.” A woman’s voice came from the other line. Cameron could feel his frustration flare up. “Who are you?”

She shook her head. “Always asking the wrong questions.” “Why are you doing this?”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “You don't remember? Don't worry. I don't blame you for that. But I've thought about you and Jonathan for years.The show's about to begin my show. Are you ready?”

Cameron heard the sound of Beethoven’s Fur Elise being played in the background. “You're in the Frankfurt International terminal. Spent the last twelve months flying around the world, and airport acoustics are pretty distinctive. Plus, Frankfurt pumps muzak Beethoven like they're afraid someone might forget he's German.” Cameron could have sworn he heard this mystery woman’s breath stop for a split second. “Tell me, did you look over your shoulder?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Goodbye Cameron.” “Get used to looking. We're coming for you.” It was all Cameron could say before the call disconnected.

“Hey.” Kay said as she adjusted Ayana in her arms, “You alright?”

Cameron pursed his mouth and nodded as he put the deck in his pocket and adjusted Liya just to make sure he wouldn’t drop her. “I’m fine… just can’t believe that after all this time, there’s a lead.” Kay gave him a sympathetic smile, “Believe it or not, this is the first time I can confidently say that Johnny’s going to come home.”

“You know, it’s really admirable that you’ve kept hope for all this.”

Cameron gave a small smile, “I’ve always believed that hope can be a powerful thing.”

They gave each other a smile and spent a moment in silence, watching the city lights before Ayana tried to wiggle out of her mother’s hold to join her sister in Cameron’s arms. Kay tried to get her to calm down.

“Ayana honey, be careful.”

Cameron chuckled, “If Ayana wants a hug too, I don’t mind.” He opened his other arm as a sign to the little girl that she could join her sister.

“You sure?”

Cameron nodded, “Positive. It’s a good thing I have enough arms because if you had triplets then things might be a little difficult,” he joked.

Kay helped him adjust both girls in a way that would be easy for him to hold them both at once. What really surprised her was just how fast her girls warmed up to him. She knew that Cameron was a good man, but it was still a little odd that Ayana and Liya could see that so quickly too.

“Hey there Ayana. You didn’t want to miss out on the fun either, did you?”

The older twin giggled as her tiny hand gripped his shirt. Kay smiled. It wasn’t often she felt comfortable letting her daughters be held by someone else, but she trusted Cameron.

“Hey Kay?”

Kay raised her eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“We have some chocolate chip cookies.” He didn’t notice the way the girls perked up at the word ‘cookie’. “Do you mind if I give them one?”

“Cookie?” Ayana squeaked.

Kay smiled. “Well, they already heard the word ‘cookie’ so you kind of have to give them one now.” Cameron laughed at that. “Why do you have chocolate chip cookies in the first place?”

“Agent Daniels,” he gasped in mock offense, “I might be a man of fine tastes, but I can enjoy a good chocolate chip cookie once in a while.” Kay rolled her eyes at his childishness.

“Cookie!” Liya babbled.

Kay’s chuckle turned to laughter. She knew the girls’ sweet tooth would distract them. “Well, we should probably get them their cookies.”

She reached to take one of the girls when Cameron just cuddled them closer to him. “You know I don’t mind holding them for a little while.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah. You’ve had a long day too, let me help you by carrying around these adorable little ladies.” Kay couldn’t help but smile as they made their way back inside.

Three years ago…

Cameron and Jordan pulled up to the building they asked the cab driver to take them. “Why are we here?” Cameron narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Why do you think?” His friend responded, “This is your punishment.”

“Oh my God, Jordan, you don’t mean...”

“Oh… but I do.” Cameron rolled his eyes, “Hey! You lost our wager.” Jordan retaliated, “If you had won, you so would have watched me dye my hair pink!”

Cameron paused. “...You’re not going to come inside to watch me do this are you?” Jordan gave him a look. “I’m sorry Jordan, but the way you say things all sound very suggestive!”

“Just go do it!”

“Fine.” he huffed. They both got out of the cab and went inside the building. It was a bank and all Jordan had dared him to do was make a donation. He stayed at the front desk until the deed was done. There was nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't as if Cameron was the first person to make a donation like this.

In fact… he was the 478th person to make a donation for that particular bank.

#deception #deception fanfiction #cameron black #kay daniels #kaymeron #jordan kwon #it takes two #renewdeception #savedeception #deception abc

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