#someone please give me some good happy mikey content i need it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry. I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against. Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss x you #mike weiss reader insert #reader insert #mike weiss fanfic #mike weiss smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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moxfirefly · 4 years ago

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Let's see ummm.. 22 i think it was

"Did you just hiss at me? "

I’m going with Mikey because I love him 🥺

“Is everything alright?!” Came April’s worried voice as she clutched two paper bags. She made her way into the kitchen area of the lair.

She had received an emergency text message from Michelangelo stating he needed a laundry list of items that she in turn had gotten. Naturally though, the list didn’t seem to scream ‘EMERGENCY’, if anything it was basic products that she herself bought on the regular.

“Ape! Thank god! You got the stuff?” Mikey fished out a few bucks from his pocket and shoved the crumpled bills towards. Between wanting to know how he had money and wanting to know the nature of needing these products, April robotically accepted the bills. “Mikey hold on hold on, why do you need all this stuff?” She set the bag on the dining table and was nearly shoved away by his shell when he began to rummage through them.

“Ok yeah, perfect- yes excellent the things that you chicks um- cool cool cool” Mikey took every item out and examined them as if one crucial mistake could be the undoing of whatever was going on.

“Did you get the gushers? April please tell me you got the fruit gushers it’s life or death bruh” His imposibly blue eyes were wide. April stuck a hand in one of the bags and retrieved the box of candies, four as emphatically stated in the text.

“Mikey, need you to take five right about now. Is there any particular reason you needed all of this? I mean the food I get but ibuprofen, a heating pad...tampons?” She made a face, curious why she was at the the Drug store buying tampons for a ninja turtle. “Are you pranking Raph again? I’m not picking sides you know I’m true neutral on prank wars” The war flashbacks were just too real.

Mikey’s mile a minute energy somewhat seized briefly. “It’s World War 3 in there Ape, I don’t know how you chicks manage this crap but like wow, new found respect my dude” Mikey gathered a few items in his arms and shook a mask tail from his face.

April blinked

“Is your girlfriend on her period?” She asked.

“No, she’s mens-truatin” He stated seriously.

April smiled, she really loved this dummy too much sometimes. “You could’ve just said so, I have my own time of the month kit. Is she in a lot of pain? Cramps can be a real bitch” She helped unpack the heating pad and grabbed a Capri Sun, also crucially stated in the list.

“Dude it’s like my first time going through this with her. She’s so sweet but it’s like Exocirsm of Emily Rose in there, but Donnie says she’s gonna be ok but I don’t know Ape...” He got closer, whispering like he was worried someone would overhear.

“Is it normal for you ladies to...bleed that much?” There was no trace of disgust, in fact Mikey looked spooked. There was so much worry in his eyes April couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes hon, some of us bleed a little more than others” April nudged him with her hip. “It like soaked through my sheets, I’ve been doing laundry all the afternoon bruh, like I’m really really worried she’s gonna bleed to death” Mikey’s eyes were comically wide and for the life of her April didn’t want to laugh but it was hard not to.

“Donnie explained no? And I’m still here, I’m proof you don’t just bleed out Mike, it’s all good” She started to follow him towards his room. “Patience and understanding is the name of the game here, you seem to be doing great already” That comment made him smile, almost beaming at the praise.

Inside Mikey’s room the soft sounds of some show playing on a lap top was the only noise April could make out.

The lump on his bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets was another sight. She stood at the door way, supplies in hand as Mikey walked in and dumped most of it on the bed.

“Angel? Baby? Light of my life?” He slowly peaked beneath the blanket lump. “I got some mad rations for you babe, like the works” Mikey grabbed a stuffed animal and presented it to the opening.

A hand snuck out and took it.

“I got the pain meds you wanted to too and Kiwi Strawberry Capri sun, lukewarm like you asked ” Mikey slid the bottle and pouch inside the little makeshift cave.

April watched, trying to contain her laughter.

He tried to sneak in the cave but was met with what April could only describe as an honest to god hiss.

“Did you just hiss at me?” Mikey retreated back to his feet giving April ‘help me’ eyes.

“Y/n it’s me, I brought a heating pad. Mikey’s been doing some top tier boyfriend duties today” She placed the pad on the bed as Mikey plugged it in.

“Is there anything I can get you on his behalf?” A soft ‘no thank you’ was heard from within the blanket. “Alright then, I’m gonna hang around for a bit just in case” She waved goodbye at Mikey and left the two of you alone.

Mikey maneuvered his way on the bed, avoiding moving it too much or disrupting her place. The lump shifted and snuggled closer to him.

Mikey held his breath.

A hand snuck out once again and blindly made for his hand. Mikey smiled and grabbed it, even going so far as to give her knuckles a kiss.

“You good? You want anything else? Laundries almost done and I can like make you some enchiladas too” She gave a thumbs up while still holding his hand and settled herself on his lap, blanket and all.

“Thanks for taking care of me” Her pained voice spoke. Mikey ran another hand over the blankets and patted what he assumed was her head. “It’s no biggie gurl, boyfriend duties like Ape said, happy to help”

A content sleepy sigh was heard and Michelangelo leaned back, content himself.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #michelangelo #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #ask #kokokatsworld #fluff #requested #writing prompts

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

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I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 4 years ago

Text

Heart Shaped Bed

Mob Boss! Mikey x fem reader

Summery: It’s Halloween and you’re just looking for some fun of the dangerous variety. Enter: Michelangelo. A psychotic mob boss from hell who is in love with your best friend. Can you win him over and at what cost?

Warnings: NSFW, violence, alcohol mentions, car accident

((A/N: I have trouble writing crazy character despite being labelled as crazy myself, Mikey is tricky to write for in this AU so just bear with me))

October 31st, the night where all the ghouls and ghosts come out to play and superstition is at it’s highest since it’s rumoured that the veil between our world and the next is at it’s thinnest. You pull your skirt down your leg a little and take another sip of your free beer, one of the only perks of having a best friend who works at a bar. Paddy’s is always packed at this time of year, everyone is in costumes and drunk out of their minds; you are no different. You’re dressed as a sexy school girl because originality was never your forte and you wanted to show off your boobs a little, so what? You have the outfit down, complete even with bows on the thigh high socks and you look damn good.

It’s too loud to have a decent conversation with “Monster mash” blaring over the small speakers on the bar so you sit and give Sophie (Peach, as you know her) a forlorn look as if to say “more beer, please” and she complies. Peach looks radiant as she pulls the tap to refill your glass. Her light peach hair trailing down over her shoulders and her uniform or black slacks and a white t shirt with dark green hem hugging all of her curves. She was difficult to compete with but she was still so modest and complimentary of you it was hard to hold it against her. You knew half the regulars only came her to watch her, it didn’t stop you going after them though.

Looking around the room you watch and drunk idiots spill their drinks and desperately try to find someone to take home despite looking a mess, covered in fake blood or with vampire fangs. It was really something to watch. A guy in a ladybug costume fawns over a women dressed as Moticia Adams only to get the cold shoulder. You chuckle to yourself. Sat in the far corner of the room, at their usual table, sat the Turtle boys, a notorious gang in upside New York. They weren’t in costume, too good for it you assumed, and they didn’t look happy. You were aware, through Peach, that they made unsavoury deals in the back office of the bar and maybe tonight something went awry.

“Hey, babes!” you call over to Peach who is passing the incredible hulk a bud light “What happened over there?” you say gesturing subtly to the four well suited turtles.

“Not sure, I heard some yelling from the back room and then they came out. Something to do with that serial killer I think” She replies.

So a serial killing is hurting business. Huh. That explains their looking like someone died, someone has... You couldn’t keep your eyes from flitting towards them, sitting there so stoic and commanding while nursing a few now almost gone whiskys.

“Hey” you call over again. Peach turns and gives you a smile to let you know she’s listening “Isn’t that one the guy who-”

“- who choked out Steve for grabbing my ass? Yeah, that’s the one” she finishes your sentence for you.

You smile to yourself, Steve definitely deserved it. Pervert. You knew the turtle’s name but, like all residents of the bar, were reluctant to use it lest they hear you. But, tonight was a night to be brave and take chances, and you’d always wanted to bed one of them. Think of the status that gives you, sleeping with one of the most violent, deplorable men in the state. You know Mikey has a thing for Peach, on other nights his eyes don’t leave her, not that she notices; a good girl like her doesn’t have time for those “downworlders” as she calls them.

“Barkeep! I’ll take 4 martinis if you don’t mind. It’s time to take my shot” you announce to Peach who gives you a weary smile as she makes your drinks and places them on a tray in front of you.

You adjust your green and navy blue pleated skirt, hiking it further up so that the bottom of your ass cheeks would be on view and head over to the turtles, tray in hand.

You set down the drinks in front of them and say, with a smile:

“We have a special offer on tonight, boys. Buy four drinks and get me for free”

They stare at you completely unamused, but their looks weren’t going to discourage you now.

“Oh come on” you begin “That line would have killed two tables over”

Michelangelo takes a finger and runs it around the rim of his glass a few times before tipping it over, the contents of the glass spilling all over the table and onto your skirt. You jump back.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you cry out

“Act like a slut, get treated like a slut” he states.

With your tail between your legs, you huff and walk away. They didn’t have to be such assholes about it, and it kind of stung that you basically offered up your pussy on a plate and they sneered at you.

Back at the bar Peach raises her eyebrows as you take a few napkins and try and dry off your skirt.

“So, how’d it go?” she inquires

“About as well as you can expect from four mutant, snobby, rich dickheads”you reply. Peach leans over the bar and gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek as her condolences.

Suddenly you feel eyes on you and turn around to see Michelangelo staring at you, mouth slightly agape and a strange look in his eyes. You would have called it regret, if you thought he was capable of feeling that. You ignore it and turn back to your drink.

You sense a presence behind you and turn once more to find him standing next to you looking awfully sheepish.

“Look” he begins “I’m...I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were a friend of- is there some way I can make it up to you? Is what I’m trying to say”

“Do you have a fresh size 3 shirt in that booth with you?” your snarky side is coming out

He laughs it off

“No, but can I buy you a drink or” He looks you up and down “Interest you in any extra curricular activities?” His smile is so bright and charming, you feel yourself almost forgiving him for what had just occurred. And he was devilishly good looking, which helped a lot.

You trace your fingers lightly up his arm until they reach his shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?”

He smirks, looks down and then back up at you

“Sure”

_____

Outside of the bar is freezing, especially in the tiny outfit you’re wearing and you shiver in the cold October air. Mikey shrugs off his blazer and puts it over your shoulders but you get the impression he’s doing this out of obligation rather than affection. It’s something about his movements, they feel more...Awkward and unsteady than fluid and confident. You know this isn’t his first time taking a girl home from Paddy’s, so you don’t fully understand what his deal it.

You arrive at his car, and despite knowing nothing about vehicles you can recognise that he drives a black Bentley and it must have cost him a fortune, not that he didn’t have the money. He could buy it 100 times over and still have more cash than half the people in New York.

He opens the passenger side door for you and you get in.

“So, my place or yours?” you ask

“Motel” he says plainly.

Curiouser and curiouser... You try and make a list of everything you know about him. He won’t take you home, he’s hot then cold and he has a thing for Peach. It clicks in your head. He’s using you to get closer to her. You almost smile, this was such a typical thing to happen to you, of course he only wants you for your relationship to her. It doesn’t matter either way, you’ll warm him up for her.

He drives fast and it’s not long before your on a highway and definitely breaking the speed limit.

You had been making casual conversation, the drive was always the worst part of a hook up, now you have to actually talk to them instead of make out.

“I feel like we should have taken an uber” you say

He doesn’t turn to look at you or speak

“Because that way I could be touching you right now” You place a hand on his thigh and he still gives you no response. “Anndd you’re not listening. Great.”

He takes his eyes off the road and turns to you

“You’re the oldest in your family, you work as a manager in a clothing store but can’t fucking stand it there and you feel like we should have gotten an uber so you could be touching me right now. Did I get that right?”

You stare back at him slightly aghast and he continues to watch you. Suddenly you realise he hasn’t looked at the road this entire time and the car in front of you is slowing down

“Watch out!” you scream and the car swerves before he gains control again and brakes, the car rocking side to side a little from the sudden movements. You’re breathless and you turn to look at Mikey who simply bursts out laughing while he continues to drive, his eyes wide as full moons. He’s sick you think to yourself. Lucky you like that in a man, and there’s nothing like a near death experience to get the blood pumping.

You continue the car ride for a while in silence apart from the odd laugh from him who still seems amused that you nearly crashed.

He pulls off the side of the road into some shitty looking motel. A huge florescent sign that reads “Blue Moon Motel” sparks a little which doesn’t offer you any comfort. This place was a dump, but if it had a bed it would do.

________

Inside the room you shake off the blazer he gave you onto the chair in the corner of the room, by the end of the bed. The interior was cute, all shades of blue and white and the bed sheets has little lace style trimmings.which was delicate and sweet.

You fling yourself onto the bed, kicking off your shoes and pull out your phone, you decide you need music for this momentous occasion. You settle on “Heart Shaped Bed” by Nicole Dollanganger and press play. It’s creepy enough to be fitting for Halloween but slow enough to be romantic. The opening notes of the piano begin to stream from your phone which you place on the nightstand.

*lay me down, on a heart shaped bed Pretend it’s out wedding, pretend we just met*

“So” you spread your legs a little and look at Mikey “How do you want me?”

He gives you a wicked smile and then he’s upon you, biting and sucking at the delicate flesh of your neck with vigour. Clearly he couldn’t wait any longer you thought to yourself.

*Pretend we're in one of those movies They rent in the back of every seedy place We pass on the interstate*

You angle your head to kiss his mouth but he pulls away, making it clear that this is not a romantic occasion, this is just fucking and he doesn’t want you in that way. It doesn’t bother you, it just heightens the whole “big bad mob boss” fantasy although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little disappointed by it.

he tears your blouse open revealing your chest and begins his work sucking and biting at your nipples and the tender skin of your breasts, you look down and can already see pinky purple bruises forming, a treasure map of where his mouth had been.

You moan a little at his touch but he continues his work down your stomach and towards your most sensitive area. Lifting up your skirt he places a kiss on you clothes mound before peeling off your underwear. You raise your hips slightly to help his get them off with ease and then he returns back down, licking between your folds until his tongue passes over your clit and causes you to moan hard.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

“You want this?” he says from between your thighs, you can feel his hot breath against your skin, a sensation that is more than pleasant.

“Yes, god yes” you squirm

“No.You wanna act like a slut, you get fucked like a slut” he returns.

Before you have time to respond her grabs you by the ankle and flips you over onto your stomach before pulling your hips up so that you’re on your knees with your shoulders and face still down on the bed. You hear him undo his flies and think for a moment as he lines up with your entrance

“wait, don’t we need protectio-” before you can finish he’s inside you and thrusting hard and deep, he gives you no time to adjust to his size and he is very sizeable... You cry out in the mixture of pain and pleasure that he’s giving you. As well as the music, the room fills with the obscene sounds of his flesh pounding against yours and the wet noises your pussy makes as he pushes in and out of you.

“you think sluts use protection?” he mocks

He feels to good for you to want him to pull out now, so you go with it, but raise yourself onto your elbows. His hands are on your hips but he trails one down your back to grab at your ponytail and pull your head back.

*So get the room with the heart shaped bed Make something gross feel romantic*

Your walls tighten around him and that elicits a grunt from him as he begins to pound harder into you, smacking your ass hard as he does. He pulls out and flips you over back onto your back and holds your legs up to your chin, his strong arm keeps them in place as he realigns himself with your entrance and pushes back in. This new position allows him to get deeper which you think is what he was hoping for.

*Make me so no one will ever want me again*

Now he has a full view of your face, eyes squeezed closed and face contorted in pleasure

“Open your eyes” he demands “Look at me when I’m fucking you”

He’s still fully clothed which you’re a little unhappy about, so you open your eyes and begin to undo his shirt. Your fingers tremble slightly partially from the force at which he’s fucking you, partially do to the alcohol you had that night.

*'Cause when I sleep with faith, I only Find a corpse in my arms on awakening*

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and throw it across the room, raising your head a little you bite into his now exposed shoulder to stifle your moans. You don’t understand how he can bring you so close to the brink this soon, but his pace is unyielding and unwavering. He fucks you like he’s punishing you.

He grabs you by the chin and squeezes

“Open your mouth!”

you do as you’re told and he purses his lips, pauses and then spits down your throat, pushing at your chin to close your mouth and encouraging you to swallow. He’s disgusting but being treated this way only turns you on more, much to your shame, you can feel your cheeks flush with blood as he smiles down at you one he hears that familiar *gulp* sound.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He pulls out once more and gets of the bed which confuses you for a second, until he pulls you up by the hair and leads you to the wall. He spins you around and so you’re facing it and pushes your shoulders forwards and pulls your hips back so he has easier access to your pussy. He plunges his cock back inside of you and you rest your face against the wall as you take him in all the way. You think you might start seeing stars if he continues like this. Never mind him being a probable killer, they should lock him up for murdering your pussy.

One of his hands rakes through your hair and pulls back your head while the other reaches around to your face and pinches your nose shut while covering your mouth. You can’t breath at all and begin to panic slightly but also whine into his hand because of how good he feels inside you.

you feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach and know that you’re close, you try and moan into his hand, shaking your head a little from side to side to try and get him off your face but it’t to no avail. So you use your hands but he simply lets go of your hair and pins your arms behind your back. You still can’t breath and now you’re so close to cumming and black dots and filtering in and out of your vision, you think you might be close to passing out.

Finally that knot in your stomach releases and your orgasm washing over you, you practically scream into his hand before he lets go and you fall to the floor, gasping for air.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He hasn’t cum yet so he stands over you, stroking his dick, smirking at what he did to you. If it weren’t for the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d be furious and give him a peace of your mind but you were still desperately trying to catch your breath.

Mikey throws his head back before cumming on you, some of the milky fluid getting in your hair and you lift your hand up to shield your face from it. Was this to insult you? Or was it still part of the whole ‘you’re a slut’ role play thing because you couldn’t tell anymore.

He tucks himself back into his finely tailored trousers and walks across the room to put on his shirt and gather his blazer from the chair you threw it on earlier. He pulls a small rectangular card out of his pocket and throws it on the nightstand next to your phone which started playing the next song a while ago.

“You can spend the night here, if you want. Anything you get from the minibar will be charged to my card so don’t worry about it” He looks down at you, still on the floor, bright red in the face and still breathing rather heavily “G’night, sweetheart” he winks at you before heading to the door and closing it behind him.

You pull yourself up to your feet and head over to your phone, opening it and typing out a message to Peach.

[Hey girly, you won’t believe the night I just fucking had] the text reads.

You flop down on the bed and await her response. A shower could wait for 5 minutes while she replies.

Fin

#my fic #heart shaped bed #mob! au #mob au #mob boss mikey #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles mikey #teenage mutant ninja turtles michelangelo

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

Text

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader- Fanfiction (Short Story)- Chapter 1

"Are you kidding me Mikey!" You winced hearing the smack the youngest turtle received from his angry brother.

"Dude chill out there's lots more pizza in the world. " Mieky was rubbing the back of his head. When Raph trudged past you, he glanced, the scowl still present on his face. You avoided eye contact, and he left, clearly still pissed. You moved to Mikey. "Are you alright?"

You reached up to check the back of his head, and he laughed. "No worries I'm fine. It's gonna take more than a smack to head to break me." He puffed his chest with a smile. And you couldn't help but smile too. Mikey was the easier for you to speak with.

When you met the turtles, it wasn't quite as adventurous as April's meeting.

~Flashback~

You were at your high school, and unfortunately for you, a couple of your classmates thought it would be funny to tie you up in the school's back yard against a pole. You were terrified, especially when it started to get dark. And because they'd wrapped your mouth with tape, you couldn't cry out for help. You were there for hours. You pretty much gave up struggling half an hour in, and prayed for anyone to find you.

It was cold, freezing. If someone didn't find you quick you probably wouldn't make it through the night.

That's when they showed up. At first you thought it was some kids trying to pull a prank, but when you saw the massive shell, every hair on your body stood up. You thought for sure it was an alien coming to eat your brains or something. So it completely surprised you when three more gigantic green turtles appeared from off the building. Landing quite easily on the ground from such a distance. The one with the blue bandana sheathed his alarmingly large blades, moving to you cautiously. When his eyes landed on you, he looked pretty torn.

For brain eating aliens they looked almost sorry for your predicament.

He stepped over, pulling the tape from your lips slowly. Even though you could speak now, words weren't forming. You were just staring. Blue was untying the ropes around your body from the pole.

"Who did this to you?"

His voice was soft, and strangely caring. It took you awhile to realize that yes, there were indeed four mutants standing in front of you. And apparently they could talk. Actual English too. Well at least the blue one could as far as you knew. When you were free you probably should have bolted. Because maybe he was just saving you to eat you.

You didn't know.

Blue took a step back, raising his arms when he saw the look on your face. You were assessing the situation, because not only were they large, but they also had weapons. Even without it, you were sure you wouldn't win a fight against them.

"We're not going to hurt you, I promise." Something about his voice was so calming. His eyes conveyed the same. If they wanted to attack you, they probably would have by now, right?

"T-Thank you.." you whispered. Your body was sore, and you were starving. You weren't sure how long you'd been out there. You're parents were probably having a heart attack trying to find you right about now. You felt a bit lightheaded. Your eyes drifted to the side. The one in the purple was clicking and typing at his little machine, or cell phone, you couldn't really tell. The other red one was closer to you, his arms were folding and he looked pretty scary compared to others. You took a step, and all at once you regretted it. Because your body felt weakened by the small action.

"Raph grab her she's going to-" you took a breath, staggering. Raph reached out on instinct, supporting your body when you slumped forward.

"I've got you." he whispered. Through your exhausted haze, you could make out his beautifully glimmering green eyes. It was possible you were just imagining they were so bright. He lifted you into his arms slowly, and you didn't even fight.

"Her body is really weak. She's dehydrated and starved. We need to get her to a hospital." Your head twisted in the direction of the purple clad one.

"Who the shell would do something, she doesn't even look mean." Orange spoke.

"What's important is we get her help. I'm sure she has someone out looking for her. We can drop her off at the police station. They could help her. " Apparently blue was the leader, because they all just obeyed, taking off. If you weren't so out of it, the fact that were being carried on top of buildings and over ledges would be freaking you out right now. Your head lulls back, and your eyes try to focus on the faces of your saviors. "Who...are you.." the fact that you could still speak was a mystery to you. Red grinned down at you.

"Just call me Raph."

"Raph.."

That was the last thing you remembered before passing out.

~Present~

"Hey, you alright, you seem pretty quiet today. Even for you." You were sitting crossed legged with Leo in the dojo. He was really good at the whole meditation thing, you not so much. The reason he asked must have been because for the first time you didn't distract him with your humming, or constant fidgeting.

You blinked. "O-Oh, it's nothing really. I was just...remembering the first time I met all of you."

His blue eyes looked a bit more serious. You could see his body visibly tense, just a little. The memory always made him unsettled, that's why you rarely ever talked about it. When they got you to the police station that night, after ensuring you were safe, they left. You woke up two days later in the hospital with your parents at your bedside. When you regained consciousness you had to tell the police everything.

Of course you left out the mutant turtles part. Your parents apparently went berserk thinking you were kidnapped. Knowing your mother, she must have turned the entire precinct upside down. After that you made it your mission to find the guys who were the reason you didn't die that night from hypothermia. Well in this case, turtles.

"I can't say I feel bad for those kids. " Leo stated. Of course they faced consequences. All of those involved were expelled for endangerment. Since then you hadn't gotten bullied, you weren't exactly making friends though either. You didn't care. You had the turtles, and honestly they were far better than the majority of actual humans that walked the earth.

"The only good thing that came out of that night was meeting you guys."

"Meeting Raph.."

It shocked you, your interest in the hot tempered turtle. He was fiery and impulsive. Almost everything pissed him off and for the life of you, you couldn't have a conversation with him unless one of his brother's were present. You were a naturally shy person. And it didn't help that he was so vocal.

Deep down you sort of envied him. Even if he was a firecracker, he always said what was on his mind. He had no filter. And you supposed that's what you liked. His honesty. He wasn't afraid to say something even if it would hurt someone's feelings. You hated pretentious people. You learned your lesson after the very ones who befriended you at school turned out to be the ones who bounded you to the pole that night.

Leo could tell you were reminiscing on the past, and he found himself doing the same. Something must have triggered a happy memory, because he just started to laugh. You smiled.

"What?" you asked curiously, giggling softly at the sound of his laughs.

"It's crazy. There was a point where I swore you had a little crush on Raph. You were always staring at him. I guess you were just trying to get used to his mood swings. " He kept laughing, but your giggles halted, and your face tinged red. You gaped at him, mouth open, eyes wide. You couldn't believe he actually knew about it, hell you were still trying to figure out what you felt. But hearing it from him, out loud. It just made it more real.

When Leo didn't hear your denial, or laughter he looked over. From you flustered expression, he came to a slow realization that his theory wasn't so crazy after all.

"No way.." you raised your hands, waving at him wildly. "L-L-Leo please don't say anything to him please!" You felt like you were about to cry. Because you were terrified, absolutely horrified he would tell Raph. And You couldn't deal with him giving you the cold shoulder. You already barely talked to the guy.

"H-Hey calm down I won't say anything I promise." he moved over to comfort you, and you fell into his arms, sniffling. You hated how easily you always broke down. Leo patted your back softly. When he felt you slowly calming down, he pulled back.

"I have to say, I didn't see that one coming. I mean if it were Mikey or Donnie I would understand. But Raph." You smiled, wiping your eyes and smacking his hand playfully.

"He's not that bad."

"Please, I grew up with the guy, I think I would know." you giggled, and Leo looked content seeing you smile again.

"If he ever gives you trouble let me know. I'll put him in his place."

And Leo meant it too. Raph was his brother, no matter how much they got into squabbles, they would always be blood. But you were just as much a family to him as his brothers and Splinter.Ever since he saw you that night so weak and alone, he felt like it was his duty to protect you.

And he would do that, even if it was from his own brother.

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

Note

“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?” + misolde xoxo

hi dove ily ♥(ꈍᴗꈍ) dragged meself out of my writing slump to churn out this misolde content so THANK you for that!!! and esp thank you for letting me borrow your boy for my own purposes (i.e., giving isolde the happy ending she deserves)

i. dreaming of you ✤ michael hughes x isolde khan

words: 3.6k

prompt: “why do you always call me when i’m on a date?” taken from this list!

rating: mature, nothing explicit but you know. they’re themselves.

warnings: isolde is a brat, michael makes a cougar pun, most of the fic is via phone call. i don’t think there’s any warnings other than that and the very brief mention of isolde’s ex-husband stalking her, sort of tangentially. ik this is from the “friends or more” prompt list but i made this a “lovers to friends reluctantly and back to lovers again” happy ending because i’m sexy and deserve it

“Well, well, well. What could the Girl Who Has Everything be calling me for at 9 PM on a Friday night?”

Mike sounds more amused than irritated, which is a pretty good sign. Even if there’s a hint of irritation there in his voice—a tiny little pinprick of it sitting just there, under the surface—that he picked up on the second ring tells her he’s not as mad as he could be.

“Don’t be mean,” Isolde replies, feeling her lower lip push out a little. “I need your help.”

He scoffs, but the sound is begrudgingly playful. “And what is it that you need my help with?”

It’s fair for Michael to sound so skeptical. She hates asking for help if she actually needs it, hates the feeling of having to rely on another human being because she just can’t push herself enough past the limit to get the thing done—even if it’s not really about not pushing herself enough, and more about knowing her limits.

Luckily, she’s not asking for help she actually needs.

“My new fire pit came,” she replies innocently. “It’s too heavy for me to get it off the porch.”

“Why aren’t you askin’ John to help you, doll?”

“What, the man who’s got the upper body strength of a flightless bird? Don’t jest with me, Michael.”

He sighs. The sounds of bar chatter echo behind him, pretty and tinny, like a wind chime. Someone laughs, and Michael breathes out through his nose; she bets that he’s smiling ruefully, mouthing an apology to whoever it is that’s sitting at the table with him.

“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?” he asks dryly, and Isolde inspects her manicure idly, balancing the phone between her shoulder and cheek.

She says, feigning complete surprise, “Oh, are you?”

“Sol.”

“I’m not privy to your agenda, darling, I couldn’t possibly know you’re on a date.” Isolde makes a thoughtful noise. “Perhaps this is a reflection on your dating habits rather than my phone call schedule.”

“Uh-huh.”

Another moment of silence elapses before Isolde prompts, “Anyway, are you free after your date?”

Michael barks out a little laugh, almost incredulous. “No, I will not be free after my date.”

“Hm,” Isolde says.

“What could you possibly be ‘hm’ing about over there, huh? I’ll remind you, Lady Isolde, that you ended things with me, you know. Not like it matters, but that means I’m not at your beck and call all the time.”

Fair, Isolde thinks, but won’t say, because she’s too proud to. She sighs; leans against the counter, twisting the wine glass around at the base, watching the dark red liquid inside of it shifting.

“It’s nothing,” she replies after a moment.

“Yeah? Nothin’, huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright, Sol, well if it’s ‘nothin’ that’s on your mind—”

“I just think it’s funny how—”

As soon as she starts, Michael groans, and she makes a disgruntled noise—indignant, insulted that he’d have the audacity to think of her as anything other than charming.

“What?” she demands.

“It just doesn’t stop with you.”

“Big words coming from the man who’s never fully grasped the concept of shutting up,” she huffs. “And I was going to say that I just think it’s funny that you’re on a date with another woman and you still picked up my call.”

“Mm-hm.” He sounds less pleased, now. Like she's hit the exact nerve that he doesn't want her to, and like he knows her well enough to anticipate she won't let it go.

Because she won’t. “On the second ring.”

Michael clears his throat. “Sure did.”

“Second ring,” Isolde continues serenely, “means you didn’t even think about it, just picked up on instinct.”

“You ever considered pickin’ up car sales?”

It’s her turn to laugh now, and normally she’d be offended by something like that but it’s different coming out of Mike’s mouth. Somehow, his voice still blooms with a warmth that’s reminiscent of how he’d spoken to her before—the way he’d spoken to her before. Warmly. Affectionately. My girl, he used to say, hands on her hips and his nose brushing hers. That’s what you are. My girl.

And maybe she did happen to know, by pure chance and thanks to John’s gloating, that he was on a date this evening, but this is all pure happenstance and nothing more.

On the other end of the phone, Michael says something muffled—he’s probably covering the phone to mute his voice—and the sound of fabric rustling echoes on the call before she hears the sound of a door closing and Michael says, “You really callin’ just to get my help with a fire pit?”

“Well,” Isolde demurs. She then refuses to elaborate.

“Well, what?”

“Why’d you pick up my call?”

He puffs out a breath. “Isolde—”

“It’s an easy question, you know.” She pauses, the silence filtering between them for a second, welling with unanswered questions and unfinished sentences.

Michael says, “You know why.”

Isolde hums, pushes herself to a stand and walks out to the front porch of the house to sit herself down on the box containing the offending fire pit. From here, she can see the ranch—the lights glittering inside of it, John probably delighted to know that Mike’s moving on to another date and another love, or something like that, while she’s...Well, not.

It’s not like it had ever been about that, anyway, the break-up. Or break. Whatever it was. It had only ever been about—

Panic, something inside of her says. Panic that something is too good.

—time, and not having enough of it, and not being able to give him what he deserves out of a partner.

Mike asks, “What are you doing?”

“Drinking wine,” she replies blithely, “sitting on this gigantic box, looking up at John’s house and wondering how happy he is that he was right about us.”

“I meant calling me. And—don’t say that shit, makes me wanna puke.”

She laughs and takes a drink of the wine. “Then come over here and prove him wrong.”

“Soli,” he says, his voice pitching lower now when the rare pet name comes out of his mouth, “don’t play with me.”

“I’m not. You think I really called you because I want to set up a fire pit on a Friday night?” She’s emboldened—made brave by the wine in her body and the distance her phone gives her, so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye when she says she had been wrong and stupid and maybe a little more than scared.

And then she says, impulsively, “I miss you, Mikey,” and he groans, the dull sound of what she can only assume is the back of his head hitting the door echoing on the phone call. Her mouth twists; she thinks, just say it, don’t be an idiot and just say that you want him back. The voice in her head, ever reasonable, sounds oddly like Avery's voice, scolding her because even her baby sister can see that she's suffering needlessly and for nobody's benefit.

You don't do anyone any favors, being alone, Avery always says, chiding. Not someone else and not yourself.

But alone is safe. Alone is quiet, and safe, and alone has no expectations to be missed, and alone doesn't ask why a new unregistered number shows up on your phone every week like clockwork, and alone doesn't notice that you're not really built for life in some podunk Montana town where you have one friend, so what are you hiding, Soli? What are you running from?

"...all night?"

Mike's voice drags her out of her thoughts, abruptly dunking her back in reality. It's unlike her to keep conversation hanging, and it takes her a second to realize he's been talking to her.

"Sorry," she says, "I was thinking. What did you say?"

He's quiet for a minute on the other end, before he asks curiously and without needling judgment, "How far are you into that wine, doll?"

"Enough," Isolde replies, warm to her fingertips every time he uses that pet name, "to not feel guilty about calling you."

"Because you knew I was on a date."

"Of course I did, Michael."

He couldn't sound more pleased when he says, "Well, you know I'm not the braggin' type, but—"

The comforting chatter of his voice on the other end of the call cuts off; she hears him exhale a breath, long-suffering and miserable, and he says, "Well, shit."

"What?"

"Date got up and left."

Isolde clicks her tongue, swallowing another mouthful of wine in a way that is decidedly unlike her; she doesn't typically like alcohol that you can gulp, like an animal, but maybe she's feeling a bit unlike herself this evening. After all, Isolde Proper wouldn't have been calling Michael Hughes at all.

"My condolences," she says, very seriously and around the bitter tannins of the wine on her tongue. "Maybe you can still catch her."

"You don't want me to do that."

"There are plenty of things I do and don't want, my darling, and for some reason the world insists on operating as though I am not the sun it orbits. It's very rude, if I'm being honest, because I do work so hard to be—"

"Soli," Mike interrupts, "did you mean it?"

Isolde shifts, coming to a stand and brushing the dust off of her. "Mean what?"

Another pause. It's uncharacteristic of him. "That you missed me."

Oh, she thinks, because now she's really mucked the whole thing up—now, Michael's gotten a taste of her pure, unadulterated honesty, and she's got to maintain it. Painful, excruciating thing, honesty; the wine went to her head and now she’s reaping the consequences of her bravery, her childish impulses. Her jealousy.

Isolde bends down, reaching for her wine. "Well, of course I did," is what she says, the words sharp as glass on their way out of her mouth, punishing her for having ever pushed him away in the first place. "I never say anything I don't mean."

He chuffs out an indignant sound. "You told me that you'd never be able to make it work here—and by proxy, with me."

"I thought—" It's her turn to sigh now. "I lack—with other people, I mean—well, you see, Michael, it's about longevity and if you look at it, really, through the—but the point is I don't want to look at the longevity of it, I want—"

Her fingers tip the wine glass over and it shatters, ringing in her wine-dulled head. She closes her eyes and sighs. Things are devolving quickly, and they shouldn’t be. She’s not the type to let things devolve.

"You didn't have to throw your glass, coulda just said."

"I knocked it over, I did not throw it. Michael."

"You’re getting bratty,” he muses, like this is useful information to him. “Get inside. You'll walk all over it. I'll be there in ten."

She pauses, mouth twisting. She feels like a child, like maybe he's coming not because he's realized she actually wants to be with him but because he's worried about her; Isolde is breaking glasses and tuning out of conversations and maybe that's a red flag and he just wants her to be okay.

"I don't think that's wise," is what she ventures after a moment, because she doesn't want to be pitied, she would rather be—

Mike breathes out, once, sharp and hard and she thinks she can hear him do that thing where he sucks his teeth and scuffs the ground with his shoe; if she really thinks about it, she can probably picture the irritation blooming across his face, too. "God damn it, Isolde, just tell me what you want. You want me to stay away? I do it. You want to come over? I will. I'm the idiot you tell to jump and I ask how high. Just tell me what it is, and I'll—fuckin' do it, if you'd just stop this runaround and—"

"I want you, you idiot," she snaps, his words rattling around in her head over and over. The call has gone quiet, now; wretchedly quiet for a man like Michael who doesn't stop talking. It feels deafening. Isolde swallows thickly and wishes she'd just opened another bottle instead of engaging in this song and dance she is woefully unprepared for. "I want—you, and I'm so—"

He clears his throat. Something about the gesture softens him, but she’s already spiraling. He says, "Sol."

"—stupid," she finishes miserably. "I don't know what it is to be happy anymore, and so when it happens I panic, and—Michael, I don't know how to take them back, the things I said. I wish hadn't said them, but I did, and now they're just there and I don't know how to take them back and there's all this bloody—all this fucking glass on my porch!"

"Alright, princess, take a breath."

Isolde does, despite her petulance insisting she does the opposite of what he tells her to.

"You yellin' all that on your porch?"

"Yes," she mutters crossly, grateful that they're glossing over the topic at hand but less grateful of being reminded of her outburst.

"So then John probably heard. Good." Mike's voice is dry, and a little tight, like he's pacing himself on something. "You got any more wine?"

Isolde looks sourly at the broken glass, and repeats, "Yes."

"Save me at least a glass," he replies, "and I'll be there in ten."

Having apparently learned his lesson the first time, Michael hangs up before she can get the chance to wax and wane about whether or not this is a good decision. The problem is that she thinks that it is—or that she thinks Michael is, anyway. Good. So fucking good. And maybe that means he's too good for her, and maybe he'll be miserable when he realizes that, and it's always so much better to do the leaving than to get left, isn't it?

She stands there for about two more minutes before she begrudgingly decides to sweep the glass off of her porch, gathering it up into the dustpan and dumping it. By the time she's done that, gone inside, gotten a fresh glass and poured it half-full, Isolde can hear the crunch of gravel outside beneath rubber. There's the familiar cadence of his steps coming up to the front door, the swing of it clicking open, and she thinks, great, now all I have to do is tell him I was an idiot and I'm sorry he drove all the way out here, but—

Isolde's turned halfway around, mouth open and ready to launch into a speech when Michael takes her face and kisses her.

It's not kind, not really. It tastes a little like whiskey and the wine still on her tongue and it bites a little, and Mike's hands are cold where they're cupping her face but she doesn't have much time to think about it because they drop; they grip her hips and hoist her up on the counter with familiar, confident ease, wine spilling out of her glass.

"Michael," she starts, one arm looped around his neck from the sudden change in altitude, "you spilled—"

He takes the wine glass from her and sets it aside so that he can sidle between her legs and kiss her again. Isolde's about halfway through her protest when their mouths meet; his teeth catch her lower lip playfully, fingers sliding beneath the hem of the Hope County Cougars shirt he'd bought her for her birthday.

"What," he manages out, pulling back to look at her in the shirt that is a direct and painful contrast in quality to the silky black pajama shorts, too short to be appropriate to wear outside of the house, they cover, "in Hell's name are you wearing this for?"

She tilts her head back to look at him, a little breathless and dazed. "What?"

"This shirt," Mike insists, tugging on it. "What is it doing on your body?"

"It's—" She blinks. "You got this for me. On my birthday."

"I remember." His smile is close-lipped, like he's trying very hard not to smile too big. "It's just—"

Michael stops. He looks to be on the verge of letting her know some grave secret, some piece of information she's been lacking this whole time.

"It's what, Michael? It's—homely but cute? A display of my incredible merit to wear such a piece as it was gifted to me by my handsome…" Her voice trails off, because she's not sure what to call him, and she plunges on, "A testament to man's hubris but also: his inability to take no for answer despite how many times God may have tried to strike him down for creating such an abhorrent piece of clothing?"

He kisses her again, long and hard and open-mouthed, and pulls her close by her hips until she's looped her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers into his hair. It promptly sweeps her brain clear of all thoughts of lovingly insulting the t-shirt he’d gifted to her.

"It's just," Michael says, against her mouth now, "that it looks so good on you, doll."

"That is not what you were going to say."

"Bet it looks better off," he adds, "on the floor. Could throw it on the deck for a little extra flavor."

She rolls her eyes. "You mean for extra flavor to piss John off."

"That’s not fair. I like to take your clothes off for more than pissing John off.”

The brunette pulls back to look at her now, eyes sweeping her face for a moment. Her chest feels tight—always does, when he fixes those green eyes on her, like it’s so easy for him to look right past her face and right into her brain.

“Hate that,” she murmurs, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. “Hate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what, Soli?”

“Like you see me.”

Michael’s nose brushes the slope of her jaw. “I do.” And then, thoughtfully: “But you gotta stop throwing tantrums when I’m on a date. Just tell me you want me.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “I did.”

“Post-tantrum.”

“Well.” He’s not wrong, and she huffs, scrambling to dig through the trainwreck of her brain to come up with a better comeback than that; none come to mind right away, and Michael takes the opportunity of her silence to lean back a little further, head tilting to meet her gaze while his hand sweeps the length of her calf.

He says, “You scared my date off, you know.” When Isolde goes mmm in a sound that is decidedly unapologetic, Michael continues, “And this shirt wasn’t your real birthday gift.”

Sol squints at him. “What do you mean?”

“Obviously the very nice bottle of wine and the necklace were your actual birthday present,” he explains playfully, pulling at the shirt’s hem again. “This was just a fun thing. You know. Hope County Cougars shirt for my Hope County Cougar—”

“I should throttle you with it.” Her mouth downturns in a frown. “No wonder John looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat when I wear it around the house.”

A laugh billows out of him, easy as ever, and he gives her knee a squeeze. “Come on, then.”

“‘Come on then’ what?”

“Say it,” he coaxes, eyes narrowing playfully. “You scared off my date. Got me over here. Tell me you want me, Soli—in person, to my face.”

And I’m yours, is what he means, but he doesn’t say it and he doesn’t have to.

She exhales a little sigh, swallowing thickly. It should be easy; she’s never had a hard time saying what it is she wants, but she’s never wanted something she felt so unworthy of.

“I do,” she says after a moment, “want you, Michael. I shouldn’t have—before, I mean—”

“Only needed the first half, doll,” Mike interjects, not unkindly. “No use digging through the whole thing. Not right now, anyway.” He pauses, and then hooks his arms around her, scooping her from the counter and up into his arms. That easily, he sweeps away the anxiety of having to admit that she was scared—not right now, he says, which means that he’ll want to hear it later but for now he’s content to hold and kiss her.

It’s the front porch he’s headed for, not the bedroom like he should be, and Isolde says, “Where on earth are you taking me?”

“Gotta make sure John knows we’re back together,” he replies cheerfully, nudging the door open with his foot. “How big’s that box? Big enough to sit you on, maybe both of us?”

Isolde feels a laugh bubbling out of her. It’s equal parts relieved she can save the heavy conversation for later and delight that he’s not lost his desire to make John squirm. “Michael.”

“Alright, alright,” he intones dutifully, “porch railing it is. Perfect place, I think.”

She groans—it does not sound like the perfect place—but when he sits her on it and kisses her, arms looped around her midsection to keep her close and unhurried in tempo, she thinks she’ll be alright with it for this time.

“You think the little guy’s gonna come unglued?” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Not to make all of our sexy talk about how mad John’s gonna be, it’s really a bonus on top of you, you know—”

“Michael,” she says against his mouth, “shut up and kiss me.”

He laughs, rumbling out a short little mean before he obliges, and Isolde thinks, yes, I can tell, because when he does shut up and kiss her, the relief is palpable; blooming warm and fresh in her chest where the ache had been before, the tightness, and even though it’s not completely gone it does feel abated, a little.

As long as he’s here, she’ll be alright.

#my writing #otp: our cathedral is the badlands #love getting to use their cute ship name finally!!!!#ugh #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #ch: isolde khan #i love #one (1) man putting up with this monster #dove rly thank u for letting me love on him and put him through the torture of romancing soli #writing prompts #oc: michael s hughes

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littledrummeraussie · 5 years ago

Text

darling of mine.

Word count: 4900+ Author’s Note: Found a promp post on Pinterest, and this happened.

masterlist.

”On a scale from one to ten, how bad of an idea do you think it would be if we got married?”

We were both lying on Ashton’s couch, lounging in the sunbeams shining through the windows. I was tucked against his side, one leg resting over his as Ashton’s hand held onto the bare skin on my thigh, pulling me closer. His other arm was curled around my waist under the shirt I stole from him, his fingers drawing patterns on my side or lightly drumming the songs that came to his mind.

I was sleepy and content wrapped in his embrace, my face buried in his neck – his scent clouded my mind, and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying. That is, until the drumming stopped, then Ashton’s fingers grabbed onto my hips and suddenly I was under him, his massive figure leaning over me with a mischievous smile all over his face.

”Off the charts,” he replied with a glint in his eyes. ”Let’s do it.”

”Ash, I was joking,” I said, sliding my hands onto his cheeks to make him look into my eyes.

”Well, I wasn’t” he tipped his head forward and planted a quick kiss on my lips. ”Come on, if we go now we can make it to Las Vegas a little after noon.”

”But…” I sat up as soon as he was off me, his fingers already typing up coordinates, looking up the route to the city. ”We have a lunch date with Calum?!”

”I’ll buy him a burger on the way, and he can be the witness. We do need a witness, right?” he looked up at me quickly, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

”I– think so…”

”You see? Clearly a win-win situation!”

”Wait, you can’t be serious!” my eyes widened when he started grabbing his things from the living room. Ash gave me a look, almost like he was challenging me. He crooked an eyebrow at me when I still haven’t moved from the couch.

”I’m wearing YOUR CLOTHES,” I looked from him back to myself; we wanted to spend a lazy day together, and I didn’t feel like putting on my own stuff, so I stole an old band shirt and a flannel from Ashton’s closet that morning. ”They are at least 3 sizes bigger than mine!”

Ashton came back to me, put both his hands on my knees, then started leaning closer, kissing my lips slowly, but deeply. One of his hands came up to my face, brushing my hair behind my ear, nuzzling his nose to mine when he pulled away.

”You’ve never looked more beautiful,” he whispered with a smile. ”Come on, it’s just a road trip. If you don’t feel like marrying me by the time we get to Vegas, that’s okay too. Then we still just had a fun day, right?”

”Alright you,” I’ve rolled my eyes at him, but returned his smile. ”Let’s go on a road trip.”

”Yes! Now come on, we have to pick up Cal!” he pulled me off the couch, sending me away to get my stuff.

”Oh, and Ash,” I’ve turned back to him from the door. ”One burger is not going to be enough.”

* * *

”What about Luke and Michael?” I asked Ash as we were waiting for Calum.

”They could be the perfect flower girls!” he grinned back at me, reaching for his phone.

”Who’s going to be a flower girl?” Calum’s head appeared between the two of us from the backseat. ”Is someone getting married?”

”Yes, we are,” answered Ashton, already explaining something to one of the guys on the phone.

”No, we are going on a road trip,” I looked back at Cal. ”It was just a joke.”

”We’re going to Vegas! I’m picking the others up as well!” Ash put his phone down, starting the car.

”Cool. But we are getting burgers though, right?” Calum asked, leaning back in his seat. ”Cause you know, you two promised me lunch, and I’m really hungry.”

”Everyone’s getting burgers, just help us get married today,” exclaimed Ash, making his way towards Luke’s house.

”You can’t bribe everyone with burgers,” I shook my head, but he just looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses, giving me a wink.

”Watch me, Y/L/N.”

* * *

We ended up getting 20 burgers, 10 big fries, drinks for everyone, and some kind of dessert that caught Michael’s attention; he demanded Ashton buys him some of that stuff, otherwise he goes back home and there will be no road-trip-wedding-extravaganza without Michael Clifford himself. The cashier looked at me questioningly while the guys were ordering – I was sure he thought I was being kidnapped by these four weird tattooed guys with their Aussie accents, arguing over cheese and onions and ketchup. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the cops pulled us over before we’ve reached the outskirts of LA.

As we went back to the car Mikey called shotgun, and already started eating his fries by the time we made it there. I gave a quick kiss to Ashton’s cheek, and sat on the backseat between Luke and Calum. Soon it really started to feel like a real road trip you take with your friends. There was music playing, the guys were joking and laughing, making comments about each other. Ashton was driving, his toothy smile never leaving his face as he sneaked looks at me in the rearview mirror. Michael was navigating, and Cal and Luke were trying to catch fries thrown at each other.

”I think we are going the wrong way,” frowned Mikey, still looking at his phone. ”We should have left the highway miles ago.”

”Don’t tell me we are lost,” said Ashton, already pulling over and parking the car. ”Give me your phone!”

”Hell no, you have your own!”

”Michael. Give. Me. The. Phone. NOW.”

As they were arguing, I’ve noticed Calum and Luke starting to munch on their leftover burgers, watching Ash and Michael like they were their favourite TV show. Without taking their eyes off of them, Cal offered me some burger and Luke his fries, both which I have declined.

”Mom and Dad are at it again,” commented Luke, and I needed to laugh at this. This caught the other two guys’ attention, and they slowly looked back at us.

”If you two are done with your old married couple fight, do you think we can continue this trip?”

”Please, come and sit back next to me before I strangle him,” pleaded Ashton, but I just shrugged at him.

”I’m perfectly fine just here between the cool kids,” I winked at him.

”There, Irwin,” said Michael finally, pushing his phone in front of Ashton’s face. ”Back that way, and we should be good. You happy now?”

”I’ll be when we get to Vegas,” he answered, casting me another look, then started the car. ”We have a wedding to get to.”

”Oh, this reminds me…” Cal was excitedly bouncing next to me, then gave me a grin and started singing. ”Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married…”

They were all singing the damn song for the next 20 miles or so.

* * *

Luke wanted to get coffee before we’ve arrived, so Ash stopped again at the nearest gas station, making the others buy us all drinks. I was leaning against the door, watching cars passing by on the highway, waiting for the guys to come back. I was drawing patterns on the pavement with my shoes, until Ashton’s sneakers appeared in front of mine, pushing our toes together, and I’ve looked up at him.

”Are you okay?” he asked me, already reaching for me to pull me to his chest.

”Yeah,” I breathed, slipping into his arms. ”I’m fine.”

”Y/N,” his fingers went under my chin, tipping my head up to look at him again. ”Is this wedding thing bothering you? You really don’t want to marry me? Cause you know you don’t have to. I would understand.”

”It’s… all just really quick, I guess,” my eyes slid down to his jacket, and I started fussing with the pins on the lapel. ”We’re not even engaged, we’ve… we’ve never talked about marriage and stuff. I’ve only moved in with you like… five months ago.”

”Do you think we should turn around?” he asked again, his fingers sneaking into the loops of my jeans. ”You just have to say the words, and we will go home. Really, it’s okay.”

”Ash, what is that you want?” I looked back at him, tugging on his jacket. ”Do you really want to get married?”

”I just want you,” he rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a long moment, then looked at me with something that could only be described as: ”I love you. And god knows I wanted to do this the right way, buying you a ring, properly ask you, maybe even make an announcement filled with heart emojis and stuff. But then everyone would be all over us, and I… I want it to be about us, just you and me. So when you’ve asked me this morning, it just felt like the perfect thing to do.”

”I’ve thought you would want a big party with friends and family. You know, all dressed up, fancy food, crazy best friends making speeches, maybe even fireworks…”

”We have the crazy best friends with us. And anyway, you’ve asked me what would happen if we’ve got married,” he booped my nose with his finger.

”It just slipped out,” I blushed, casting my gaze down.

”But you’ve been thinking about it, right?” he asked again, and I nodded.

”Of course. Every girl does that. I’m no exception,” I shrugged my shoulder with a smile.

”I could go down on one knee right now and ask you to marry me, if that’s what you want,” Ashton put his hand on my cheek, caressing it. ”We can forget about the trip and just go home. I’ll buy you a ring, and we can start planning the big day. You can have the wedding of your dreams, you can have anything. Just say the words.”

”Ash, it really doesn’t matter how we do this. As long as I’m marrying you, any wedding is my dream wedding.”

”So what do we do now?”

”I say we go to Vegas,” I’ve put my arms around his neck, pushing myself up on my tiptoes so I could look into his eyes. ”We get married, because you’re right, this is just for us. And then we can always just throw an afterparty to those who feel like they’ve missed it.”

”God, I love you so much!” he planted a kiss on my lips, which earned us some catcalls from the guys who were just coming back from the shop.

”Did we miss something, lovebirds?” asked Michael, offering me one of the drinks in his hands.

”We’re getting married!” I smiled at him while holding onto Ashton.

”For real?” asked Luke.

”For real,” nodded Ash with a grin, giving me another kiss on the top of my head.

”Took you long enough,” said Calum, passing Ash his coffee while going for the passenger seat. ”So let’s go!”

”Two more things,” I turned back to Ashton, squeezing his hand in mine.

”Anything for you,” he returned the squeeze, still smiling like the happiest man on Earth. And I was sure he was exactly that.

”If we’re gonna do this, let me get an appropriate dress when we arrive. You can get us rings while I do that,” I leaned up to him to kiss his cheek. ”And… I love you too.”

* * *

”You’re stalling,” said Calum as he held the pile of clothes I wanted to try on.

”No, I’m looking for a dress,” I answered as I went through the next rack.

When we’ve arrived to Las Vegas, we quickly decided on a little chapel that we’ve both liked, and made plans to meet back there once we have found everything we needed. Luke and Michael went with Ashton to buy us some rings, and Calum came with me to a nearby thrift shop to look for a wedding dress. We were really doing it – we were getting married.

”You know he’s serious about this, right?” Cal stopped me, turning me around to face him. ”Sure, I’ve thought he was joking in the beginning, but… I can see how he looks at you, especially now. He is dead serious about you.”

”I know, Calum,” I nodded, smiling at him. ”Me too. I’ve never been this serious about anyone else. Ashton is… special.”

”Then why not just do it? Get married and be done with it? Why the dress and the ring?” he asked me as I made my way towards the changing room.

”Because Ashton is special,” I repeated it. ”I know he would love me dressed in his clothes too, but I want to look pretty for him today.”

”You’re always beautiful for him, that’s no question,” he finally smiled at me. ”I’m sure he appreciates the effort.”

”Thanks Cal. Now, I will need your amazing taste to find me the perfect dress,” I said, kissing his cheek, and disappearing into the changing room.

We spent the next half an hour going through the dresses I have picked out, until I’ve finally found the one. Calum took it from me, saying he will pay for it as a wedding gift, and it made my heart melt. As I made my way after him, my eyes landed on a pair of shoes that I’ve thought could be perfect with my new dress, and I’ve added it to the pile of things at the cashier’s desk. Cal crooked an eyebrow at me.

”And those?”

”My shoes,” I smiled, bouncing on my toes next to him.

”You’re definitely the perfect fit for him,” he laughed, reaching for his wallet.

”And what’s in that?” I asked, reaching for a package I knew I did not choose.

”That’s a surprise,” he pulled my hands away gently. ”You will see it pretty soon.”

* * *

There was a knock on the door of the small room in the back of the chapel where I’ve changed into my wedding dress. I’ve stopped fiddling with my shoes, waiting a few seconds before finding my voice and asked who it was.

”It’s Luke. Are you dressed? Can I come in?”

”Yeah, it’s okay,” I answered, and he stepped into the room.

”Look at you,” Luke smiled brightly, spinning me around to see all the details. ”Damn, Ashton is one lucky man.”

”Is he alright?” I couldn’t keep my nervous question to myself, and Luke just let out a laugh.

”He’s down the hallway in the other room with Cal and Michael. Pretty sure he’s fussing with his hair or something. He’s fine. Wants to already put a ring on this,” he winked at me, and his cheeky comment made me laugh as well, making my nerves go away.

”Well, I’m actually ready, so… we might as well go and make this happen,” I smiled at Luke, who nodded, but then held up his hands.

”Oh, I’ve got you something,” he quickly stepped outside to retrieve a bouquet of flowers and a simple flower crown that he placed on top of my head. ”There. Perfect.”

”Luke, this… this… I just… thank you,” I started to tear up, and he hugged me immediately.

”Please don’t cry, Ashton will think I’ve made you upset or something, and…”

”No, no, he won’t,” I laughed, hugging him back. ”This means a lot to me, thank you. Really.”

”There’s no wedding without flowers,” he said with a smile, then wiped my tears away. ”I’m gonna check in with the guys and after that – may I walk you down the aisle, Ms Y/L/N?”

”It would be my pleasure, Mr Hemmings.”

* * *

We were standing behind the door, waiting for the music to start. Luke promised me that they have chosen an appropriate song for us and that I don’t have to get married to some tacky radio hit. I was already holding onto his arm, waiting, waiting, waiting. I was getting more and more nervous – it felt unreal; a few hours ago we were lying on the couch with Ashton, just basking in the early morning sunlight, and now I was wearing a white dress in a chapel in Las Vegas, ready to promise him forever and always. Luke squeezed my arms when the first chords started playing, giving me an encouraging smile.

”Ready to steal our drummer?”

”You’re never getting him back,” I squeezed his arm, and he nodded.

”Good. He was annoying as hell,” he commented with another smile, and opened the door, leading me inside.

I didn’t have time to look around, because my eyes were already focused on the back of the room where Michael and Calum stood with matching grins, looking from me to Ashton, and then back. And Ashton – he was everything.

He was wearing a black button-up shirt with a red rose pattern and his signature leather jacket, hair styled to perfection, with the biggest, happiest smile on his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me, and I felt exactly the same way – I just wanted to look at him forever. Luke gave me one last hug when we’ve arrived next to the guys, and one after the other they stepped to me. Calum embraced me, giving a kiss on my cheek; over his shoulder I could see Ashton quickly wiping his eyes while Luke patted him on the back.

”Because you are special too,” Calum whispered quietly in my ear. ”And you deserve a well-dressed man on your wedding day as well.”

”Was it your idea?” I asked with a smile, but he shook his head.

”All his. I was just the errand boy,” he returned my smile, and slowly let go of me. ”I’m really glad it’s you. My boy chose well.”

”Thanks Cal,” I gave his hand a squeeze as Michael came and looked me up and down.

”Are those… pink Converse?” he quirked an eyebrow at me, and I grinned at him. ”Damn, you guys really are perfect for each other.”

”Michael, are you… crying?” I asked when he rubbed his face, turning away a little.

”No, it’s just a… fuck it, yes, I’m crying!” he shook his head, quickly hugging me. ”I’m just happy for you idiots, that’s all. I’m allowed to cry!”

We held each other for a little more, then I gave him a kiss on his cheek, and Mikey gave me the thumbs up, then lead me up the two steps so I was finally standing in front of Ashton. Calum took the flowers away from me, and Ash reached for my hands, interlocking our fingers and squeezing them.

”Hey gorgeous,” he smiled at me, his eyes never leaving mine. ”Damn, look at you.”

”You’re not too bad yourself, Irwin,” I winked at him, and he just started laughing.

”You know you’re gonna be wearing that name from now on, right?”

”And I’m gonna enjoy every second of it,” I promised him, making Ashton’s smile even brighter.

The officiant welcomed us all, quickly starting the ceremony itself, not wasting any time. All I could see was Ashton, smiling and looking back at me with love and adoration all through the service. I felt like the luckiest girl alive, standing there in my short dress and pink shoes, flower crown on my head, with the man I loved, and our three amazing friends supporting us all through our sudden and crazy decision. I knew I wouldn’t have this wedding any other way – it really was perfect for us.

Then suddenly Michael stepped up to us, holding out two simple silver wedding bands, giving us both smiles as we took them from him. Ashton slowly turned the ring around in his hand, then took my hand and slid it on my finger.

”I’m crazy about you – so crazy that when you jokingly asked me if us getting married would be a bad idea, I knew that there’s no way I’m not marrying you today,” Ash started, looking up at me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. ”You’re perfect to me, and before you start arguing, yes, you are. Because there’s nobody else who would have said yes to such an insane idea this morning. And I want to thank you for that. You’re the cherry on top of this crazy life I have, and I’m lucky to call you mine, darling.”

”Damn, even I would marry him,” we all heard Calum whispering, and a laugh ran through us all.

”Too late,” I scrunched up my face at him, and after he blew me a kiss, I turned to Ashton, slipping the ring on his finger too. ”This morning I’ve thought you were crazy, bribing people with burgers to take a road trip with us to Vegas. And yet, I knew there was no way I would skip this trip. Somehow… I knew that we would end up here, and I don’t mind it at all. Not even a little. I still think you are crazy, but I want to be crazy with you for the rest of my life. I love you Ash. There’s no one else I’d rather call my husband than you.”

Ashton blushed, trying to blink away his sudden tears, mumbling something about flowers and allergies, but there was no way you could wipe the smile off of his face. The officiant said a few more words, then smiled at the both of us.

”And with this, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he nodded at Ashton. ”You may kiss your bride!”

”Oh hell yeah, I will,” Ash stepped closer to me with a grin, his fingers sliding up my jaw to hold my face.

”Too much talk, Irwin,” I started to tease him. ”And not enough kissing.”

”We can’t have that now, can we?” he crooked an eyebrow at me, and when I started to laugh again, he pulled me closer and pushed his lips against mine, kissing me passionately.

There was clapping coming from the guys with bonus catcalls and shouts, and it just fuelled Ashton to kiss me as long as he can – and honestly, I was more than happy to let him do it. I would have given up on breathing if it meant that I can keep his lips close to mine.

”Oh my god, stop it!” finally one of the guys shouted at us, but Ash just smiled into the kiss, whispering. ”Never.”

* * *

”Can I just steal you away for a few minutes?”

”Sure.”

We were piled into a booth at a close by diner, eating another round of burgers, pancakes and waffles. It was getting dark, and we still had the whole journey back to LA before us, so we decided to take the time and have dinner, a nice way to finish our day together. Ashton’s hand never left my waist as we sat next to each other, sharing fries and smiles all through dinner. My flower crown wandered over to Ash while we were taking photos, then Luke put it on for a while, and now it was sitting on the top of Mikey’s head as he devoured his pancakes.

”Don’t have sex in the bathroom,” Luke called after us as Ash took my hand, leading me to the door.

As we stepped outside, he took his jacket off, putting it over my shoulders, then he found a nearby bench and sat down, pulling me into his lap. My arms went around his neck, and leaned my head against his as his fingers caressed my side. We were so close to each other that our foreheads and noses were touching. Ashton’s eyes were searching me, and I silently waited for his next words.

”We’re married,” he said finally, then his face split into a wide smile. ”We’re married!”

”You officially can’t get rid of me,” I ran my fingers over the back of his neck, sliding them into his hair. ”You’re stuck with me now.”

”It’s a dream come true,” he pushed his lips against mine for a quick kiss. ”And now that you’re off the market, I don’t have to worry about anyone else stealing you.”

”Ash, you know there was only ever you,” I kissed him back, then nuzzled my face into his neck. ”I love you, silly.”

”And I love you, darling,” he pulled me closer to his body, locking his arms around me. ”I love you.”

We sat there together, quietly confessing our love for each other until the guys gave up on the waiting game, and came to pick us up. Michael offered to drive, so with Luke on the passenger seat, and Calum, Ashton and me in the back, we started to make our way home. Luke was the first one to fall asleep, feet up on the dashboard and head lolling to the side. I was leaning against Ashton’s shoulder, battling sleep as well, but both his and Calum’s body on my other side were warm; in the end Cal’s light snoring and Ashton’s fingers in my hair slowly lulled me to sleep.

* * *

”Y/N? Hey, we’re home,” Ashton’s soft words woke me up, and I looked up at him.

The others were already out of the car, yawning and stretching – the flower crown ended up on Calum’s head, and the white flowers looked absolutely amazing in his dark hair. Ashton rubbed my arms, trying to warm me up a little as I was trying to work through my sleepy haze. He opened the car door and helped me out, pulling me to his body, keeping me warm there as well.

”Just take the car, you can drop it off tomorrow,” he said to Michael and the others. ”Thanks for coming with us today. And for bringing us home.”

”Thanks for not eloping without us,” smiled Calum, giving us a half hug. ”That wouldn’t have been fun.”

”Is this the part where you all give your best man speeches?” I mumbled against Ashton’s chest, and all four of them started laughing.

”There will be a time for that as well,” said Luke, and I smiled at him. ”You will be getting embarrassing stories about your husband. A lot of them, actually.”

”I can’t wait,” I winked at him, and Ashton huffed out another laugh.

”Gee, thanks guys. Where’s the bro code? What about my dignity?”

”She already married you, she’s stuck with you, Ash!” Michael shook his head, and patted Ashton’s back. ”You’re fucked, my man.”

”Talking about being fucked,” I heard the smirk in Ashton’s voice. ”Maybe it’s better if you bring back the car the day after tomorrow…”

”Oh my gOD, I’M OUT OF HERE!” Michael was already back in the car, so Luke and Calum took their seats, and waved at us as the car disappeared down the street.

We made our way up the stairs, but before I could go inside, Ashton picked me up, bringing me over the threshold, planting a kiss on my lips after closing the door. He did not stop there though, but started to go up the stairs again until he reached our bedroom. He put me down on the bed, first taking his jacket off of me, then started to pull off my shoes as well. I leaned back, getting comfortable on the bed, until he finally lay down next to me.

”Hey,” Ash smiled at me, reaching over to caress my face.

”Hey you,” I turned to face him, catching his hand to plant a kiss on his palm. ”Husband.”

”Hmm. I like that, Mrs Irwin,” he dropped his hand to take mine, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the ring on my finger. ”Has a real nice ring to it.”

”Well, I do have a nice ring,” I booped his nose, making Ashton laugh. ”You also have a really nice ring to yourself.”

”It’s definitely my favourite one,” he interlocked our fingers, resting our hands between us on the bed. ”That, and the one you are wearing. You are… mine. And I can’t get enough of this feeling. Or you, for the matter.”

”You can prove that in the morning,” I leaned over to kiss him. ”I’m looking forward to a full day long wedding night.”

”You’re definitely getting fucked in that dress,” he gave me a smirk, and I rolled my eyes at him with a smile.

”Always the romantic, Irwin,” I cuddled up to his side, and he pulled the covers over us, holding me close to himself.

”You signed up for a lifetime or sarcasm, Y/L/N. Just saying,” he yawned, then started running his fingers through my hair. ”Do you think you can handle that?”

”It’s on, Irwin,” I nuzzled my face against his neck. ”It’s so on.”

I was already falling asleep, and Ashton’s fingers were also slowing down in my hair. I felt his hand sliding down to my waist, drawing a simple pattern there like he did in the morning. There was a moment of silence, then he pressed a soft kiss against my temple.

”Y/N?” I felt him smile against my skin.

”Ash.”

”I love you. Wifey.”

”I love you more. Husband.”

”Say it again?” he whispered once more, and I gave him one last squeeze before falling asleep.

”Husband.”

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin #fiction time #afic: darling of mine

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pixiegrl · 4 years ago

Note

Em!! Cold weather fluff!! ❄ Can I please request "Your coat makes you look like a penguin" + “I know you’re excited about the snow, but please put on better shoes than slippers!” with Muke? The penguin prompt just says Luke and I won't apologize 💕 -blackbutterfliescal💛

Brooke! Happy birthday!! I know you said the penguin line was Luke, but I ended up getting inspired to write more Tangled Muke and this was a by product of that. Happy birthday!! I love you so much!

On ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514993

Luke wakes Michael, shaking his shoulder. Michael cracks his eyes open, startling when he realizes that Luke is practically nose to nose with him. Michael goes a little cross eyed trying to focus on Luke’s face. He’s grinning from ear to ear, face lit up and cheeks pink.

“It’s snowing,” He whispers, practically vibrating with excitement.

“You’re too excited for the time of day,” Michael mumbles, trying to roll away and go back to sleep. Luke pouts, straddling Michael’s hips and forcing Michael to look at him.

“It’s the first snow of the season, Michael. How can you sleep at a time like this?” Luke whines. Michael groans, flinging an arm across his face.

“It’s cold outside and it’s too early. That’s how I can sleep.” Michael peeks out from under his arm. It’s barely daybreak, early morning sunlight streaming through the window and framing Luke. He looks soft like this, glowing and flushed from the warmth of the cabin. It looks good on Luke, being out here in the world.

Michael still can’t believe they get to have this. First, Michael thought he lost Luke when he was arrested and Luke went back with his mother. Then, he’d thought he’d lost Luke when he “died.” When Luke had told Michael that the King and Queen were his parents, Michael offered to bring him back home, convinced that he would lose Luke for good this time to the royal family. He was so sure, once Luke returned to his family, that he would never want to leave again. After all, Luke’s always wanted a family, people to love and care for him. Not to mention that Michael couldn’t possibly offer Luke the life he would get being a prince.

It had been a silly worry, as it turned out. Luke’s family had welcomed Michael with open arms, insisting that the man who found their long lost son stay with them, especially once Luke had declared Michael to be the love of his life. It had taken a little more convincing for them to allow Michael and Luke to leave the palace for adventure and to explore the world. After all, they had just gotten their son back and they didn’t want to lose him all over again. Luke swore that he would be safe with Michael, and that he would come back, and eventually his parents had relented and helped the two of them on their trip.

They’re in some small Northern town now in the height of winter. Luke is thrilled to be experiencing the cold, something he never had back in his tower. It’s charming to Michael, how excited Luke is about everything. He’s been enamored by all the joys of the world; whether it be dragging Michael to a beach so he could run into the water and shriek when he realized how cold it was, or standing outside in the rain till he’d gotten cold and wet and Michael had panicked trying to nurse him back to health from a runny nose and sneezes. It’s been strange, having someone with him, depending on someone else, knowing that Luke would do anything for him if he asked. He’s too kind and trusting, an odd by-product of being trapped in a tower for most of his life, but Michael finds that he wouldn’t have Luke any other way.

Luke leans down, getting as close to Michael’s face as he can. Michael goes cross eyed, watching as Luke kisses him on the nose.

“Can we go outside, Michael? Please? I’ve never seen snow before. You wouldn’t deprive me of this once in a lifetime experience, would you?

“You’re a brat. You can’t keep using your ‘I was locked in a tower for my whole life’ excuse for everything, you know,” Michael says, fond and exasperated. Luke must sense that he’s joking, because he grins widely, leaning back, resting his hands on Michael’s chest. Michael grips onto his hips, rubbing his thumbs back and forth against the skin peeking out from underneath the hem of Luke’s shirt.

“But there’s always a first time for everything, Michael.”

“You don’t get to have your way just because you’re cute, Sunshine,” Michael says. He picks up one of Luke’s hands, kissing the back of it just to watch Luke’s smile soften as he giggles, dimples visible in his cheeks. He looks happy and healthy, a far cry from the scared, lonely boy Michael found in the tower.

“Well, I’m going outside and you’re welcome to join me,” Luke says, detangling himself from Michael’s lap and grabbing some shoes. He pulls on a pair of slippers and despite the fact that Michael wants to stay in bed where it’s nice and warm, he can’t let Luke go out into the cold unprepared.

“I know you’re excited for the snow, but please put on better shoes than slippers. And you need a coat,” Michael says, rolling himself out of bed, disturbing Petunia from where she’s been sleeping on the pillow next to Michael. She huffs at him, in the way that only a lizard can before going back to sleep.

Luke smiles, eyes wide and innocent, “See, this is why I need you. Otherwise I’d be wandering out into the snow unprepared.”

Michael huffs, but pulls a coat from the closet, a large, soft-looking blue coat and some boots for Luke, before grabbing a long, black coat with white stripes on the front and some boots for himself. The clothes were already there when Luke and Michael had arrived, and Michael is grateful for them now, considering they weren’t prepared enough. He bundles Luke up in coat, buttoning it and straightening it out until Luke distracts him by kissing him.

Michael allows Luke to press a series of quick kisses to his lips, before he pulls back and fastens his own coat, pulling up the boots. Luke giggles when he sees Michael.

“What?”

“Your coat makes you look like a penguin. With the black and the white and your hair,” Luke giggles, pointing slightly at Michael.

Michael sticks his tongue out. “How would you know? You’ve never left your tower.”

“I read books. I know things.”

“Where do penguins live?” Michael asks, grinning when Luke huffs and rolls his eyes, “See, you don’t know everything.”

“Well I know that I want to go outside,” Luke says darting off in the direction of the door, flinging it open and running into the snow, planting himself face down into the snow.

Luke’s practically glowing in this light, the sun lighting up his blonde curls and making him look soft and ethereal. Michael still can’t believe he gets to have this, have Luke as all his for as long as Luke will keep him around. Luke doesn’t care that Michael’s a former thief turned recent Duke (a reward for bringing Luke back), just like Michael doesn’t care that Luke’s a Prince. They’re just Luke and Michael, who have traveled half a kingdom and back for a crown and some lights, arguing the whole way. Michael, who sacrificed himself to save Luke, and Luke, who tried to do the same thing and instead saved him. It’s easy to forget like this, Luke laughing in the bright white snow, bright glow coming from within him.

Michael still has the ring Luke gave him; he cherishes the little golden sunburst. It’s a tangible sign that what they have is real, that Luke’s real, that he’s not going anywhere. They’re just Michael and Luke, traveling the world, content to see it all together. Luke’s happy to follow whenever Michael leads and Michael’s happy to show Luke everything the world has to offer. Michael wants to give Luke all of his dreams over and over again and it feels like getting to do this for Luke is just one step closer to his own dream of building a life with Luke.

“Come join me, Mikey!” Luke calls, smiling over at Michael, blindingly bright.

Michael steps outside. It’s colder than he expected, but Michael’s never been in real snow before. He shivers. Luke rolls onto his back, giggling as he waves his arms up and down, creating a snow angel, like something out of a book Michael read as a child.

Michael makes his way over to Luke, sitting down next to him. Luke smiles up at him, eyes crinkled at the corners. Michael feels soft and fond, and can’t believe he feels like this after so little time. Luke snuggles into Michael, resting his head on Michael’s knee. Michael starts to run his fingers through Luke’s hair.

“You look happy,” Michael says.

“Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” Luke tilts his head up to look at Michael, expression puzzled.

Michael shrugs. “I thought you’d get sick of this eventually.” The unspoken get sick of me hangs in the air.

Luke frowns. “I get to explore the world after being locked away for so long with the love of my life. How could I get sick of that?”

“Cause I’m just an ex-thief who doesn’t know what to do with himself. How can I measure up to all those royal people that your parents had us meet?”

“Cause they’re not Michael Clifford. They didn’t come crashing into my tower and then take me on an adventure to fulfill my dream of seeing the lights. They didn’t rescue me over and over again. They don’t put up with my cold feet and Petunia licking their ears every morning. They didn’t die for me,” Luke says, brow furrowed in determination. He sits up, leaning close to Michael and cupping his cheek in his hand, “No one could compare to you Michael. You’ve given me the world time and time again. I’m the boring one, stuck in a tower and getting excited about snow. How do I know you won’t get sick of all my annoying questions?”

“You’re the love of my life, Sunshine. And it’s terribly endearing getting to see your joy. It’s infectious.”

Luke giggles, rubbing his thumb along Michael’s cheekbone. “See? You’re the love of my life. I could never get sick of you. You’re so much more than an ex-thief. You’re funny and charming and you have your own dreams. You keep talking about starting your own home for wayward, orphan kids. When we get back home, we can ask my parents about it. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to help us start it.”

“I’m sure they’d be so thrilled about their son shacking up with a former criminal to build a home for forgotten kids. I’m sure the kingdom would love the idea of the crown prince and a former con raising a bunch of kids.”

“Why don’t you marry me then? They can’t argue if we’re going to be parents to all these kids.” Luke says. He’s staring intensely into Michael’s eyes, biting his lip.

“What?” Michael thinks he might have blacked out a little. He feels fuzzy, his focus completely on Luke.

“Marry me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why wait?” Luke says. Michael’s too stunned to respond at first. Luke starts to frown, pulling back slightly. Michael grabs onto his hands, grasping Luke’s cold fingers in his.

“Yes. God, yes; of course I’ll marry you, Luke. You and your cold feet and your weird lizard and all your dreams. I want to spend my life with you, giving you the world.”

Luke laughs, warm and bright, glowing so much it’s almost blinding. Michael leans forward, capturing Luke’s lips in a soft kiss. It’s almost too hard to do it, the both of them smiling too much to properly kiss. Michael’s too happy to care. Luke is his fiance. He gets to do this forever with Luke.

“Can we go back inside? I think I’m losing the feeling in my fingers,” Luke mumbles, bumping his nose against Michael’s. Michael snorts.

“Baby.”

“Your baby.”

“No, you’re my Sunshine. There’s a difference,” Michael pushes himself up to stand, holding his hang out to Luke.

“Who knew former con man Michael Clifford was such a sap?” Luke laughs, allowing Michael to pull him up. He snuggles into Michael as they walk back into the cabin.

“I’ll leave you out here to freeze.”

“You wouldn’t. I’m your fiance now. Besides, who else would laugh at your terrible jokes?”

Micheal huffs, rolling his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to the top of Luke’s head, just to hear him giggle softly and rub his face into Michael’s neck. Michael could be happy like this forever. Michael got everything he’s ever dreamed of. He’s got his dream.

#5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #luke hemmings #muke #hey look more tangled au #its after the movie though so #please enjoy #my writing

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maluminspace · 5 years ago

Text

Less Of An Angel

Genre: Smut

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Reader/Ashton Irwin

Word Count: 4.2

Requested: by @cashtonasfuck for Mikemonth

Laura, i'd like to request something for #mikemonth week 2 😬so the theme is smut right? so dom!michael, light bondage and exhibition kink? 😬maybe throw a bit of spanking in there? basically, all the dom stuff we know and love 😂(maybe mike and ash if we're going for pairings?? 😬) love ya! 💛

Trigger Warnings: explicit sexual content, light bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub

A/N: I’m not great at writing dom!Mike because to me is the softest baby but I have come up with this, which I hope you like!

….

“I’m going to need you to be less of an angel tonight.” Ashton whispers to Michael. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you though and he makes damn sure you can hear every word he says. “I need you to take on a little more of my roll, can you do that for me?”

Michael’s green eyes are glittering with confusion. He’s usually lying on the bed beside you whilst Ashton decides what he wants to do to each of you. That’s not the case tonight. You’d been instructed to strip and take your place on the mattress, but Michael had been kept at the foot of the bed.

“I’m in kind of a watching mood.” Ashton clarifies, easing Michael’s shirt up over his head, leaving the younger man’s blonde hair dishevelled and fluffy. “I want to see if you two can put on a show for me.”

This request makes perfect sense to you. Ashton rarely gets to enjoy his voyeurism kink because he normally has two needy submissives to satisfy.

“So I can…” Michael asks, glancing over his shoulder at Ashton once his shirt has been thrown to the ground.

“You can do whatever you want, within the perimeters of my instructions, Angel.” The older man interrupts. “I only have a few little guidelines, though.”

Even though you’re intrigued by the conversation your boys are having, you’re beginning to grow impatient. You’ve been lying on the bed, completely naked for several minutes and you’re starting to feel a little neglected. “Are you two done?” You whine, “If someone doesn’t touch me soon I’m gonna scream.”

Ashton clicks his tongue at you. “Our little Sugar is getting all impatient, Angel.” He says softly, “What’s the punishment for comments like that?”

“Five spanks.” Michael replies instantly. He knows every punishment off by heart, as do you. Both of you have experienced them enough times to be able to recite them whenever Ashton demands it.

“Good.” Ashton hums, reaching around Michael’s waist to unfasten his jeans. “Why don’t you show me if you’re as good at giving punishments as you are at taking them?”

The younger man is still a little confused, you can tell by the way he looks between you and Ashton as though he’s awaiting an answer to an obvious, but unspoken question.

Ashton chuckles, tugging Michael’s skinny jeans down to his knees. “Take these off and sit on the edge of the bed, Angel.” He orders, his voice firm but quiet.

As Michael obeys the dark haired man’s first instruction, you make another impatient sound. Ashton’s eyes meet yours and you can tell by the fire in those hazel orbs, that five spanks are about to be the least of your concerns. “Actually.” He smirks, “will you grab the wrist restraints before you

sit down please, Mikey?”

The notion that you’re about to get chained to the bed pulls a little moan from you. There’s not much that turns you on more than being totally at your boyfriends’ mercy.

Ashton walks along the side of the bed, running a finger lightly along your bare leg and then your arm. “You need to be on your best behaviour for Mike, okay sugar?”

You nod innocently, still shivering slightly at Ashton’s touch. “You wanna watch Mikey punish and fuck me, sir?” You ask, hoping to illicit some aroused response from your dominant. It’s a tiny version of power play but you love it.

“You’ll see.” Ashton replies, his face remaining expressionless as he looks over to see where Michael has got to. “Hurry up, angel. It’s time to see a new side of you.”

The blonde man scrambles faster in the ‘toy chest’ you keep in the closet. He holds the wrist restraints up in a small display of his trauph before padding back over to the bed. “Here you go, Ashy.” He smiles proudly, holding out the restraints to your eldest boyfriend.

Ashton shakes his head, taking a step away from the bed. “Our little sugar is all yours tonight.” He explains, “the only rules I have are; always implement the correct punishments for any misbehaviour, make sure I can see everything that’s happening at all times and don’t ask me for any guidance. Are we clear?” The eldest man looks between the two of you, awaiting a response.

Lips moving soundlessly, Michael nods, glancing over to you almost as though he’s checking that you’re okay with it too.

“I don’t care which one of you fucks me.” You whine irritably. “As long as someone does it soon, because I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours.”

Michael’s expression relaxes a little, as though he’s pleased that you’re happy for him to fuck you. You’re not sure why he’d have had any doubts, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. It’s most likely down to the fact that Michael’s never had complete control of you before. He’s always just followed Ashton’s instructions before tonight.

“Make it ten spanks, Angel.” Ashton instructs, pulling your attention back to him, even though he’s intent upon ignoring you. “As always, respect the safe word and always get verbal permission before moving onto something new, okay?”

Your younger boyfriend still looks slightly bewildered but there’s definitely more excitement in his eyes now. “Can we start?” He asks, placing the restraints down on the end of the bed.

Ashton doesn’t reply immediately. He silently unfastens every button of his sexy black shirt deliberately slowly before sliding it off and dropping it to the ground. He catches you eyeing his muscular arms and barely suppresses a smirk before working on the button of his jeans. Once he’s kicked them aside, he drags the comfy chair from the corner of your room closer to the bed and sits in it. Only when he’s completely comfortable does he give Michael the nod.

You can hardly contain your excitement now that both of your boyfriends are in nothing besides their tight little boxers. Biting your bottom lip in anticipation of what's to come, you take in every inch of both men’s bodies, committing them to memory for when you’re left home alone.

The blonde man sits on the edge of the bed, eyeing you hungrily as he taps his lap. “Come on, Sugar.” He whispers, trying to match the tone that Ashton usually uses with you. “You know what to do.”

Michael’s husky tone sends shivers through your body as you push yourself up onto all fours and crawl across the bed towards him. “I’ve been pretty bad, huh?” You ask, pouting exaggeratedly, before laying across his lap.

Despite being somewhat concerned that Michael’s submissive qualities will hinder his ability to satisfy your needs the way Ashton does, you’re more than a little excited to explore this new dynamic.

Michael caresses your ass cheeks softly, rubbing and squeezing them several times before finally asking if you’re ready to take your punishment.

The blonde’s hesitance makes you wonder if Ashton’s made the right decision to give Michael a dominant role tonight. You nod your consent, purposefully meeting Ashton’s eye across the room. “Of course, Mikey.” You reply. “Don’t hold back, though, I can take more than you think.”

It’s obvious by the way that Ashton’s eyes darken with lust, that he’s enjoying the way your acting. You don’t have much time to feel proud of yourself, before Michael delivers his first spank to your right ass cheek. The force with which it lands pulls a shocked gasp from you.

“I don’t hear you counting.” Ashton reprimands quietly but firmly. “Be stricter, Angel.” He adds to Michael.

You hold Ashton’s gaze as you speak the first number. Knowing that the older man is going to use your reactions as a gauge for how well Michael is taking on this new role.

The blond delivers his second spank to your left cheek. It’s even harder than the first and your gasp sounds more like a moan this time. “Two.” You say plainly, determined to keep your eyes on Ashton.

It’s obvious by the way that Michael delivers the next five spanks, that he’s been paying attention to what Ashton does. He hits a different spot every time and varies the speed and strength of every slap. You’re already a gasping mess as you count out the final three smacks. Your fingers are tangled in the duvet cover and your eyes squeezed shut.

Michael gently smoothes the palm of one hand over both of our cheeks, just like Ashton usually does, undoubtedly savouring the red marks he’s left there. “You took that punishment so well, Sugar.” He says, his arousal obvious in his voice. “You ready for something else now?”

You nod, scrambling off of Michael’s lap and crawling back towards the pillows. As you make yourself comfortable again, you can hear Michael prepping the restraints and your excitement starts to bubble closer to the surface. “What’re you going to do to me, Mike?” You ask, finally settling down and meeting his gaze.

Part of you expects Michael to be hesitant, or for him to turn to Ashton for guidance. He does neither. “I’m going to tie you down so that you can’t misbehave when I play with you.” He replies, his green eyes flashing lustfully. “Do you like the sound of that?”

You smirk mischievously as you lift your arms above your head, ready for them to be chained to the headboard. “I’ll be good.” You promise, keeping your voice low and even. “I’m not sure you can handle me at my naughtiest, anyway.”

Michael hums as he holds your gaze determinedly. You’re impressed with the way he’s handling you so far, it makes you want to push him a bit further.

“I think you’ll be surprised, sugar.” Your younger boyfriend growls after a moment of silence. “I know I can handle you just fine.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “Really?” You taunt. “I thought you were just a needy little slut.” Maybe it’s a little early for you to play that card, but you can’t resist. Michael’s always loved it when Ashton calls him that and you’re eager to see if you can break down this new attitude of his.

Despite his determined expression, Michael’s cheeks turn pink at your words. “Unlike some people, I have layers.” He replies evenly, refusing to let your words rattle him. “Maybe I should fuck that smart mouth of yours before we do anything else.”

You bite your lip seductively, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Is that what you want Mike? For me to get down on my knees and swallow you whole?” You pause, enjoying Michael’s silent reaction to your proposition before the urge to tease more him overwhelms you again. “Just like you do to sir on a nightly basis?”

Michael growls lowly in the back of his throat. Apparently ‘dom Michael’ isn’t a fan of being reminded that he’s Ashton’s little play thing. That’s interesting to know and you’re determined to use it to your advantage at every given opportunity. The blonde man drops the restraints back onto the bed and perches on the edge of the mattress, turning his back on you. “Get over here, sugar.” He demands, not even bothering to turn back to look at you.

It’s impressive. Michael has obviously noticed the things you enjoy. He’s acting just the way that Ashton does when you’re being bratty. You keep your smirk firmly in place as you slide off of the bed and stand in front of him. “At your service, angel.” You quip.

There’s a split second when it seems that Michael might break character. His lips turn up as though he’s about to giggle, the way he does when Ashton has him at his mercy. As quickly as the twitch in his lips appears, it vanishes, replaced by a stern glare that could almost give Ashton a run for his money. “On your knees, sugar.”

You obey, keeping your movements calm and deliberate, not wanting to betray your enthusiasm for what’s to come. Once you're kneeling in front of Michael you meet his gaze again, silently warning him that you’re not finished being a brat. “If you want me suck you off…” You explain, as though you’re speaking to someone who has no idea what they’re doing. “You need to take off your boxers and spread your legs for me, I know you’re good at that part. I’ve seen the way Ashton takes whatever he wants from you every night, you don’t even put up a fight.”

Michael places a hand on your cheek, gently but firmly urging your face closer his. “Enough talking.” He orders, “You’re going to take off my underwear and think about how my cock will feel when it’s hitting the back of your throat. I know how much of a slut you are, Sugar. I’m not sure you can handle me though, my cock is bigger than sir’s, don’t forget.” The way that he breaks eye contact with you to offer the ghost of a smirk to Ashton tells you that he’s working out how to incorporate his bratty characteristics into this evening’s role. It’s undoubtedly a clever move and you’re tempted to glance back to see Ashton’s reaction, but Michael’s hold on your face feels too good for you to break the contact.

Focussing on Michael’s words, you reach for the waistband of his boxers. His words have lit a fire in you that you’re all too eager to allow to burn you out. Your cold fingers brush the warm skin of his hips and he gasps as he returns his attention to you. “That’s right.” He whispers, his hips lifting automatically for you. If you weren’t so focused on the task at hand, you’d marvel at the way Michael’s submissive tendencies give his dominant character a uniqueness that you want to explore much more.

Michael’s already half hard from the dirty talk and the promise of a blowjob. He’s always been easy to turn on and you can’t wait to taste him. You lean up to kiss him, pressing your body against him as you slip your hand between the two of you to work his dick until he’s practically aching for your mouth.

The blonde gives into your actions easily, allowing the deep kisses and your unauthorised touching. Ashton would never have allowed this, he’s have pulled you back by your hair and demanded an apology. You kind of wish Michael would do that but he’s probably never going to be quite that kind of dominant. That’s something you can live with, though. He’s definitely not disappointing you so far tonight.

Once Michael’s cock is fully hard, he pulls back from the lustful kiss, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. “I wanna fuck that dirty mouth, sugar.” He growls hungrily.

As much as you want to suck Michael dry, you restrain yourself just long enough to whisper one last thing into his ear. “That’s right, show off for sir, He’s gonna punish you for bringing up the size of his dick. You know he hates being reminded that you’re bigger.” You ensure that Ashton can hear you, hoping that you’ll get punished alongside your other boyfriend later.

“Careful, Sugar.” Michael warns, his voice still gravelly, “It’s just about me and you right now.”

You nod, licking your lips seductively. “Oh, I know, Angel.” you reply. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you sure you get some of my best work.” Ensuring that you hold his gaze as you back up and lean closer to his crotch, you revell in the way his eyes sparkle as though he can’t believe you’re acting this way for him. He’s so used to seeing you service Ashton but very rarely gets to see you on your knees between his legs.

Placing your hands on Michael’s thighs, you angle your face closer to his hard cock, still refusing to break eye contact. His expression remains lustful but his legs tremble in your grip, betraying his excitement for this rare occasion. You’re determined to make sure he remembers it for a long time, so you take your time. Your breath ghosts over his tip, making him shudder in anticipation. That’s another thing that Ashton would never do, but you enjoy that ‘dominant Michael’ is different to your ‘sir’. “Just to avoid interruptions, I give you permission to cum down my throat.”

You don’t give Michael time to hide the shocked expression that takes over his face before you close your lips around him. He gasps, gripping the bed covers as opposed to you, like Ashton would. Hoping to change that, you sink further onto his impressive length, enjoying the weight in your mouth as you begin to work your tongue. Michael whimpers, seemingly unable to control his usual aroused sounds to keep with his role for the evening.

It makes you feel a little more powerful, knowing that you can undo one of your boyfriend’s so easily. Once you begin to bob your head, Michael finally reaches out to hold the back of your head, forcing you to take even more of him into your mouth until his tip hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Sugar…” He whines. “You feel so good!”

You hum around Michael’s dick, working your tongue in the expert rhythm that you’ve mastered over countless nights of practice with Ashton. The vibrations have Michael moaning above you. Knowing that he always enjoys a little pain with his pleasure, you dig your fingertips deeper into his thighs as you work the last couple of inches of his cock into your mouth.

The tightness of your throat and the pressure of your fingertips denting his sensitive skin, Mihcael makes the desperate whine he usually makes when Ashton hits his spot just right. You know that means his fairly close and you’re impressed with the speed in which you’ve gotten him to this point. You’re not gonna let him cum before you give him one more smartass comment. You pull off of him, making the blonde whine like the true brat he is. “I thought you were gonna fuck my face, Mike.” You whisper, ignoring the ache in your throat. “Why would you get my hopes up like that and not deliver?”

In a split second Michael’s soft close-to-orgasm expression, turns into a firm, determined one. You don’t even have time to fully appreciate how hot he looks before he’s forcing your head back towards his achingly hard cock. You open your mouth willingly, proud of the reaction your comment has pulled your usually submissive boyfriend. He pushes you onto his length slowly, easing your throat open again before pulling you back and pushing you down harder, thoroughly enjoying your lack of a gag-reflex. You press your tongue against the underside of Michael’s dick as he continues to move your head as a quickening pace. His shuddering breaths and trembling thighs tell you that he’s close but you bring him over the edge by dragging your fingernails over his thighs, leaving long red trails on his milky white skin.

Michael spills down your throat, gasping your name and cursing before his hand slips limply from your head. He flops backwards onto the mattress as you pull off of him and turn to face Ashton. You’re pleased to see that he’s watching intently, his boxer shorts tenting as he palms himself. “Did you enjoy the show, sir?” You ask, your voice weak and croaky.

Ashton shakes his head. “You can both do better.” He replies. “Get the restraints, Angel.”

It takes a moment for Michael to gather the energy to move again. When he does, he grips the restraints and motions for you to get back onto the bed. “You know what to do, sugar.” He says, his voice still breathy.

You’re already pretty turned on by having your throat fucked and knowing Ashton is watching you and Michael intently. Not wanting to delay your own orgasm, you obey Michael’s request as he gets to his feet.

You lie back on the bed, your head resting comfortably on the pillows as you lift your arms. Michael straps one of your wrists securely to the bedpost, checking that you’re happy with it before moving around the bed to secure your second one.

As the blonde man works on the buckles of the restraints, you glance over at ashton, moaning at the way he pulls off his underwear, his hard cock springing free. “Fuck, sir.” You whine, licking your lips and arching your back. “Want you…”

Before Ashton can respond Michael takes hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding your face back towards him so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “No, sugar.” He states firmly. “The only cock you’re getting tonight is mine, remember?”

It’s impossible to hold in the moan that escapes you, there's nothing that turns you on more than being told off by one of your boys. “You better know how to use it as well as sir does.” You reply, holding gaze stubbornly.

“You know I do.” Michael hums, letting go of your chin and running his finger down the side of your neck and over your chest, before swirling it over one of your nipples until it’s stiff enough for him to grip firmly. You gasp loudly, equally as surprised and aroused by the unexpected roughness he handles you with.

“Fuck!” You moan, arching your back and instinctively spreading your knees. “Show me, Mike, please…”

Your slight begging brings a proud smile to Michael’s face that he apparently couldn’t suppress. It doesn't matter that it takes away from his dominant edge, you just want him to uck you as hard as he can, you’ve waited long enough damn it.

With one quick glance to Ashton, a silent request for permission which is granted with an enthusiastic nod, Michael crawls onto the bed, spreading your legs as wide as possible. He runs his fingers over the inside of your thighs, ensuring to stop just short of the pace where you're craving his touch the most.

“Please, angel.” You whine again, abandoning all of your previous resolve to hide how desperately you want Michael to fuck you.”

The blonde man positions himself over you, lining up just right. “Look at me, sugar.” He demands, “I wanna see your face when I fuck you.”

So maybe Michael does have what it takes to dominate you the way you enjoy the most. You moan needily as you meet his gaze, loving the concentration on his face as he slowly pushes into you. He feels even bigger than you remember, forcing every other thought from your mind as you focus on the way he fills you up. You close your eyes, the intensity of Michael’s gaze proving too much for you to handle.

Once your bodies have adjusted to each other, Michael begins to move, slowly but firmly, making sure he goes deep enough to make you moan every time. His grunts and the sound of him sliding in and out of you almost make you miss Ashton’s moans. You open your eyes again and look over to the older man. He looks so hot, sprawled out in the chair stroking himself with the speed and ferocity he usually fucks you with. The sight brings you that much closer to your climax as you moan his name. Michael adjusts his angle slightly before slamming into you particularly hard. “No!” He reprimands, “focus on me, sugar! Moan my name, not sir’s!”

The determination in Michael’s thick tone of voice and the intensity in his eyes as you meet them once more prove too much for you. “Fuck, Mike!” You whine, “I’m gonna cum, please, please… I need to…”

“Only if you tell me it’s for me.” Michael replies, never breaking his rhythm, pounding into you hard and fast until you’re trembling with the effort to delay your orgasm for another moment. You ultimately fail, coming apart beneath him, moaning his name louder than you thought possible given how sore your throat is.

Your confirmation that he’s responsible for your orgasm is Michael’s undoing. He follows you over the edge a second later before collapsing on top of you with an exhausted but satisfied groan. One glance over at Ashton’s slumped form in the chair, tells you that he’s recovering from his own climax, too.

“Was I good?” Michael asks as he carefully pulls out of you. His question is aimed at Ashton as much as you, proving that he’ll never tire of being praised by both of you.

“Yes.” You reply breathlessly. “Really fucking good, Mike.”

Ashton pushes himself to his feet before heading over to unfasten your wrists. Michael flops down onto the bed beside you, eyeing ashton expectantly, awaiting his answer.

Once your wrists are free, Ashton takes the restraints back to the chest where they belong before heading back to the bed. Michael cuddles into your side, his gaze still fixed on Ashton.

“You were perfect, Angel” The black haired man finally replies as he lays down on the bed at your free side. “You both were.”

Tag list: @clffrd @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @thrillchaser @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @valentinelrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @theagenderwhocriedwolf

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ashesonthefloor · 5 years ago

Text

all that counts, is here and now (my universe will never be the same)

summary: Michael bumps into the cute pet store worker named Calum and develops a crush. hijinks and lots of pining ensue. did I mention this was a soulmate au? title taken from Glad You Came by the Wanted. part two can be found here, ao3 link here

content rating: PG-13 (cursing, a couple sex jokes because it’s Michael, and lots and lots of pining)

word count: 9488 in total with the second half

A/N: okay hello my long awaited fanfic is HERE. tumblr is homophobic so it’s split into two parts but both are completely done. big shoutout to both @clumsyclifford and @cliiffords for hyping me up. and ofc a major thank you to miss @calumcest who screamed w me about this and is reviving Malum w me. enjoy!

Michael was already running late. But Southy’s leash had broken five minutes into the walk, and he didn’t have a spare at home for him. So he stopped by the pet shelter that was, thankfully, right on his way. It was actually the same place he’d adopted Moose. He knew most of the workers - despite not being the biggest people person - and he got along with them quite well.

So it was that much more surprising when Michael grabbed his leash - green, to match the collar, Southy deserved to match - and headed up to the counter only to find a stranger. Correction, the most gorgeous, handsome, pretty, amazing stranger he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted in a surprisingly genuine customer service voice. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Uh,” Michael said, ever the eloquent speaker, as he shifted Southy slightly in his hold. “Yeah, thanks. Just needed a leash since Southy’s snapped.”

The stranger had just rung the leash up when he seemed to notice the dog. It was obvious when he saw him, because his face lit up and, if Michael was a sappy person, which he obviously wasn’t, he would’ve said his eyes sparkled. “Is this Southy?”

Michael nodded, shifting him yet again before holding him out to let the man pet him. It turned out to be the right choice as he watched him coo happily over the dog, letting Southy sniff his hand before giving him a good pet. The man - whose name was Calum, according to the name tag he was now at the right angle to notice - seemed to love dogs an awful lot for someone who worked with them.

“Hi, Southy. Are you enjoying your walk? It’s nice out today, I bet you are. I bet you’ll enjoy it more once your leash is all fixed,” Calum talked to the dog, before rubbing his head again before giving Michael another happy grin and god, Michael was pretty sure he was in love. His cheeks squished up when he smiled in a way that Michael had never seen before, and was confident he would never see again. Not only that, but it actually reached his eyes. He looks genuinely happy. “Thanks. I like getting to say hello to our real customers.”

Michael stared at him for just a beat too long before giving him a grin of his own. And maybe he was a little pink. Maybe. “Yeah, no problem. Southy’s pretty relaxed. I’m actually taking him to volunteer at a nursing home right now. Normally my friend is the one with him but I agreed to go this time.” Why did he tell him that? He talked too much.

Calum gave him another smile before smiling at Southy. “I’m sure he’ll be great at it. He seems like a good therapy dog. And just an all around good boy.”

Michael smiled a little more. Calum got it. “He’s trained to be that way.” He frowned suddenly. “Oh, fuck. I was already running late.” He pulled his phone out to glance at the time. “Oh fuck, now I’m really late.” He handed Calum some cash and took the leash when he handed it over. “Keep the change. Uh, nice to meet you, I’ve got to go.”

He turned and moved quickly towards the door, trying not to fumble in front of the cute stranger. He clipped the leash to Southy’s collar and hurried to the nursing home.

————————

As expected, Ashton wasn’t pleased with him for being so late. He’d given him the ‘we’re definitely talking about this later’ look, since he was with one of the residents and couldn’t exactly just start grilling him the way he wanted to. Which spared Michael the awkwardness of having to explain that his alarm hadn’t gone off and then Southy’s leash had broken - he still had no idea how that happened - and then he’d met the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life who was going to be in his dreams for the next year at least.

“Do you want to explain why you were so late?” Ashton finally had a chance to ask when Southy was curled up on Ethel’s lap, her wrinkled hand shakily stroking his little head. Michael pulled his eyes away to look at Ashton.

“Not really.” Michael enjoyed being difficult sometimes.

“Okay. Explain why you were late and I had to keep everyone in the activity hall for an extra thirty minutes,” Ashton said, leaving much less room for argument. Michael was never sure if he hated it when he did that or if it was kind of amusing just how well he knew him.

“Sure, daddy.” Ashton aimed a kick at his leg, lowkey enough to be missed by the elderly residents. Michael managed to clumsily avoid it, dumb grin still on his lips. The nickname had come up at some point in their friendship and he’d never dropped it, much to Ashton’s chagrin. He was a little more resigned to it now, though he never really appreciated it. Especially at the place he was volunteering. With easily scandalized (probably, Michael wouldn’t really know) old people.

“So I got Southy and we left the apartment. And then his fucking-“ Ashton gave him a look. This was why Michael called him daddy “-leash snapped, so I had to stop by and get a new one. And then I met the love of my life. Ashton, he’s gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he could bench press me if he tried, he has the greatest biceps in the entire world. Better than yours, even. I know, we thought that was impossible. It’s not. And he wanted to pet Southy and he called him a good boy. So yeah, pretty sure he’s the love of my life and now I need to figure out how to propose. Is offering him my still beating heart a little outdated? Should I go with an engagement ring?”

Watching Ashton’s normally well-kept expression shift through like eight different emotions - and probably the four stages of grief - was just a testament to how ridiculous he was being. He considered it a personal achievement. His current record was nine different emotions. Of course, it was Ashton , so half of it was just in the eyes and eyebrows, but it counted.

“So he was cute?” Ashton finally answered, seeing through about nine layers of Michael’s descriptive, hyperbolic imagery. He wasn’t fun anymore.

“Very,” Michael agreed, glancing back over at Southy to make sure he was fine. He looked like he was living his best life with all the attention.

“And now you’re convinced he’s the love of your life?”

“Absolutely.”

Ashton nodded. “Three diamonds.”

“You think? I don’t want it to be flashy. Just something that says ‘hi, I’m in love with you, and your jawline is sharp enough to cut me, and I’d be honoured to let you bend me-”

“Michael,” Ashton warned, glancing over at Dorothy who was looking at them with some sort of amusement. At least she wasn’t scandalized?

“Okay, okay. I’ll fill you in later, I guess, since you don’t love me.” Michael just gave him a small, dramatic little pout. Ashton was, unfortunately, immune.

“Or you can tell me how in love you’re in with this stranger now, minus all the graphic imagery,” Ashton pointed out, ever the reasonable party. Except when he liked someone. He was just as bad. Worse, Michael would say, but Ashton didn’t agree.

“Fine, fine. He’s gorgeous, Ashton. And he liked Southy. He called him a good boy.”

“Do you even know his name?” Ashton had been through all of Michael’s crushes on random strangers.

“Calum,” Michael said, a little triumphantly, with a smug little smile.

“Does he know yours?”

Michael went to answer before pausing. He flushed a little. “Oh, fuck, I forgot to do that part. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even tell him my name.”

Ashton just looked at him for a moment. “Are you going to talk to him again?”

The obvious answer should’ve been yes, given that Michael was genuinely interested in getting to know him. And since he was the love of his life, of course. But he hesitated. It would seem weird to just start hanging around the pet shop now, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to freak him out.

Ashton shook his head, clearly mildly exasperated by his best friend. “Alright, We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled, moving forward. “Ready for someone else to have a turn with Southy, Ethel?”

————————

“You should just talk to him if you like him that much,” Ashton said several days later, giving Michael a look that meant he really just knew him way too well.

“I don’t know. He probably forgot about me already.” Michael frowned, taking a bite of the pizza Ashton had been nice enough to order. He knew arguing with Michael was a bit pointless sometimes, so he’d learned to just give in and stop prolonging the inevitable. He loved him.

“You won’t know unless you go see him. Besides, he still doesn’t know your name. What if he’s thinking about you too and hoping you swing by again?” Michael hated it when Ashton was reasonable. It was helpful, though. But he just liked being dramatic sometimes.

“I don’t know...” Michael said, taking another bite of pizza. “How often do I really need to go to the pet store? Not that often. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just kept going? And what if he’s not there? There’s so many ways this could go wrong, Ashton, I can’t just keep going and hoping he’s there. That’ll kill my soul.”

“So you’re finally admitting you have one?” Ashton grabbed a slice of his own pizza - Michael still hadn’t managed to convince him that Hawaiian was the best, much to his own chagrin. Michael tried to punch his arm before letting out a much-longer-than-necessary-sigh and leaning back in his chair. “Really, Mikey, just go talk to him.” Ashton’s voice was much gentler this time, expression very knowing. Michael wasn’t sure if he hated it, or he appreciated it. “Tell him your name. Ask him out. I promise you it isn’t as scary as you think it is.”

Michael paused. “What if he says no? They have the best prices and they all know me. I can’t just switch pet stores to avoid him after he inevitably breaks my heart.”

“What happened to proposing? I thought he was the love of your life?” Why did Ashton have to have such a good memory? It was infuriating. “Seriously. Stop by, look at some dog toys, and see if he’s there. If he is, ask him on a date. It’s that simple. You won’t have to switch pet stores. He might say yes. If not, you just ignore him when you go in. It’ll be fine.”

Michael frowned. “Fine. Maybe. But first, I want to beat your ass in Call of Duty.” It wasn’t Michael’s favourite, but Ashton was horrible at it, so it was a little fun just to watch him struggle. They always ended up switching to Mario Kart or FIFA or something so Ashton’s little grandpa ass didn’t struggle so much. He was a nice friend. He loved him, really.

Ashton shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll just even the score later on.”

————————

Michael hesitated outside the door to the pet shop. He probably looked like a freak just standing there, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to go in or not. Eventually, he decided that it was. Maybe because he wanted to see his future husband again. Maybe because Ashton would keep annoying him if he didn’t. It was like a 60/40 split between the two.

He finally managed to work up enough confidence to actually go inside. He’d only stood there for a minute or two before he was greeted by the familiar customer service voice.

“Hi! Welcome to Paws and Claws. How can I help you?”

Michael turned to look at the absolute Adonis of a man who had occupied his thoughts since he’d first met him. He saw recognition on his face, and then Calum was smiling a little wider, a little more genuine.

“Glad to see you again! No puppy this time?”

“No,” Michael managed to get out. Had he fixed his hair before he came in? He didn’t think so. He really hoped he did. “He had to stay at home. I think he just wanted a nap.”

“What a shame! He was almost as cute as his owner.” Calum bent over to pick up a dog toy, and Michael definitely didn’t glance down. Calum walked over to put it away, and it wasn’t until then that his words registered and he flushed dark. “So what are you looking for?” Calum asked, looking over at him.

“Uh. They just need a new toy. One of them broke this morning.” Michael really needed to get his shit together. He was being embarrassing.

“Oh no! We can’t have that. What kind of toy do you want?” Why did Calum have to be so goddamn nice? Michael was dying. Or going to die. Or in the middle of dying.

“Anything, I guess. Southy and Moose really like to chew.”

“You have two dogs?” Calum beamed, looking at the array of toys to find a couple that would work.

“Yeah. Southy’s, uh, my ESA. And I wanted another one besides just him.” He wasn’t sure if he should say that. Some people were weird about it. Maybe Calum would think he was a freak now and would never accept his proposal.

“That’s sweet. Southy was really well behaved. And the more the merrier with dogs, I always say. I want another one.” Calum came back over to him. “Here’s some good ones! We’ve gotten some really good reviews on them, and we use them a lot for the dogs we have here.”

“You have a dog?” With how much Calum liked other people’s, he wouldn’t have expected that. It seemed like he was just getting his dog fix through other people. Interesting. “Oh, I only need one.”

Calum beamed. “Yeah. He’s staying with my sister since I just moved into a new apartment and had to work some things out with my landlord to let him stay. I miss him, though.” His cheeks did that cute squishy thing. Michael didn’t know how or why it happened but he was in love with it. “They’re buy one get one free right now. You could get a toy for each dog and make it fair.”

Michael nodded a little bit. “I get that. I get pretty upset if I’m separated from mine.” Poor Calum. He must really miss his dog. “That...yeah, okay.” He didn’t really need more toys. But Calum was a fantastic salesman so he couldn’t really turn him down. He’d already lied and said he needed toys, so why wouldn’t Calum try and sell him some? It made sense. It was fine. He’d just live in an apartment covered in dog toys.

“Perfect! I’ll ring you up.” He led him over to the counter with the toys, scanning both of them.

Now was Michael’s chance. He could tell him his name. And that he was in love with him. “Um. I’m Michael, by the way.”

Calum gave him a sweet smile. “I’m Calum.”

“I know. You’re wearing a name tag,” Michael pointed out. Which turned out to be the right thing to do since Calum flushed a little bit.

“Oh. Right. I forgot i was wearing it,” he said with an embarrassed little laugh. He gave Michael his total and Michael paid, taking the toys from him.

“You should bring your dogs by sometime. We have half off bathing next week.” He gave him another happy smile and gave him a flyer for the next week.

“Right. Yeah. I think I will. Moose could use a bath.”

Another smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

————————

“Isn’t he perfect?” Michael lamented to Ashton later on that evening. There was a long pause from the other side of the phone.

“He sounds great. Like you need to ask him on a date.”

“I can’t do that, Ash! I don’t even know if he likes me. And I can’t just ask him out while he’s at work. I’ll just have to love him from afar until I can propose.”

Ashton was quiet for a moment. “Just ask him out. It sounds like you really like him. More than all your other weird crushes. I think you should ask him out. Or at least see if he’d be interested in grabbing dinner or a coffee or something.”

Michael considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to rush things. He probably doesn’t like me. I’ve just been an idiot in front of him.”

“You’re an idiot in front of everyone. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“But it probably does. He probably hates me.” Michael frowned. “You’re awful at comfort.”

“I know, it’s my main skill. Being horrible at comfort. I put it on all my resumés.” Michael could hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. He wanted to pretend it annoyed him. But the familiarity was kind of comforting.

“I’ve got to go, Mikey. But I’ll call you tomorrow, right? And you’re still working this weekend? I’ll see you then too.”

“Yeah, I am. Talk to you tomorrow, mate.”

————————

Michael slept in late the next morning. He always did on his days off. He groaned at the noise of his phone going off incessantly. He figured they’d stop calling. And really, there was only one person it could really be. Ashton was the only person that ever really called him. Because he was a fucking grandpa like that. Sometimes it was his mum but really, Ashton was more likely.

The third time he called, Michael finally picked up. “What?” He asked, sleepy and pissed about being woken up.

“Are you watching the news?”

“No. It’s fucking nine in the morning, who watches the news now? Old people. That’s who-“

“Michael, turn the TV on.”

“Ashton, it’s early-“

“I’m serious. You know soulmates?” Of course Michael did. Everyone had to hear about them. They were rare, but they existed. They were people who had what looked like tattoos, indicating who their soulmate was. Supposedly there were quite a few benefits, but no one could decisively say what they were for everyone, given that they were so rare there wasn’t much research they could do.

“No shit I do. What’s up with them?”

“Everyone has a soulmate now. Overnight, something happened. Everyone’s got tattoos and the entire world is up in flames trying to find their soulmate,” Ashton said, voice rushed. “There’s weird catches for some people. They’re saying- be quiet, just a minute.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Fuck. That was kind of a huge deal. He yanked the covers back - fuck, the air was cold. He regretted doing that immediately - and stumbled into the living room. He was pretty much entirely awake now, jolted into the life of the living by the news. He fumbled with the remote to turn the news on.

“-it seems that some people have tattoos of their soulmate’s names. But most people are getting tattoos representative of their soulmates. Something related to them, or something they treasure. There seems to be a catch, however, so that some people are only getting soulmate markings after meeting their soulmate. This is causing global panic as people begin to take time off to search for their soulmates-“

Michael stopped paying attention again. “Do you have one?” He practically demanded.

“I don’t know! I saw what was happening and called you first because I knew you were missing it.” Damn Ashton being a good friend.

“Well go look!”

“Aren’t you going to look for yours?”

“No, I already know I probably have, like, four. Everyone loves me. But you’re unlovable so it’s more important. I need to know it I was right about that.”

He could practically hear Ashton’s eye roll. The next time he spoke, it was echoey. He was in his bathroom. “I found mine,” he said, normally stable voice a little shaky. “It’s on my bicep.”

“Better than it being on your ass,” Michael pointed out.

“Yours will be on your ass if karma has anything to say about it,” Ashton quipped back.

“Hurry up. What is it?”

“It’s a lamington. It’s got writing on it, I think. Fuck. I can’t read it in the mirror.”

“You have a fucking lamington? Who loves lamingtons enough for that? Take a picture of it so you can see the words.” Which was a genius idea. Michael was a genius.

“Fine, give me just a-“

“Wait, don’t do that, just come over here and let me read it.”

There was a beat before Ashton answered. “What? Why? I can just find out now. What’s yours?”

“I haven’t looked yet. Just come over,” Michael practically pleaded. Not that he’d admit it.

Ashton seemed to recognize the tone of Michael’s voice, and that he wanted someone to be there when he looked. That he was scared he wouldn’t actually have a mark and everyone else would get their soulmates except for him.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

There was the click of the line as Ashton hung up and Michael was left alone again. The news reporters on the TV were the only thing filling the silence, still droning on about the ‘soulmate phenomenon’, as they were calling it. Michael didn’t care. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he pulled his sweatshirt off and saw nothing but pale skin. He wasn’t going to have a soulmate mark. There was a heavy feeling in his gut that told him that. He wasn’t going to handle it well, and he’d ruin Ashton’s enjoyment of having a soulmate. He was an awful friend.

He was pulled out of his self deprecation By a knock at the door. And, dammit, why didn’t Ashton just walk in like Michael did? He walked over to the door to open the door and let Ashton in.

“I can’t believe you made me wait to figure out who my-“ Ashton started, only to be cut off by Michael.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for coming. How do you know where it is?”

“You mean what if it’s on your ass?” Damn Ashton and that smug little smile. He thought he was funny. And okay, maybe it was, but Michael had said it first.

“Fuck off. I mean really.”

“You look, Mikey. I didn’t just magically know where mine was. You have to go somewhere with a mirror and look. Since I’m here now you could just strip, but the mirror option might leave me with my sight intact.”

“Fuck off-“

“You said that already.”

“You’re not getting a strip show for free anyway.” So with that Michael made his way to the bathroom. Passive (and completely pretend) annoyance gave him the energy necessary to lock the door and strip off his sweatshirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, hair messy and sticking up everywhere, and bags under his eyes. Really, fuck Ashton Irwin - and the universe - for waking him up so early.

As far as he could see, there wasn’t a soulmate mark. Not on his neck, or his face. He was still in his shirt, rumpled from sleeping in it, and it made it harder. But he just had that terror, that he would be blank. The entire world was getting soulmates and he was going to be blank. He’d be a freak. He didn’t want to be left out. Especially not on this.

God. He was alone. He didn’t have a soulmate. He was starting to come to grips with that, alone in the bathroom. Fuck. He should’ve just let Ashton break it to him. He could be nice. But this way he could have his breakdown in private. He gripped the sides of the sink, ready to curl down into himself and maybe never come back out. He started leaning down when he froze. Right there, on his forearm, was the mark. He slowly let go of the sink, bringing his arm up in quiet amazement to stare at it.

Holy fuck. He had a soulmate. Out there in the world, somewhere, living, breathing, existing, was his soulmate. Someone was meant for him. He brushed the pad of one finger over it gingerly, as if to test if it was real. It didn’t come off. Which was a good sign.

After affirming that it was real, that he really had a soulmate, he focused on the design. Which was...yeah. That was a thing. It was a happy dog sitting down, his tail mid wag, with numbers right beneath him reading 1251996. That was helpful. He definitely didn’t know anyone that connected to the tattoo. So his soulmate existed, he just didn’t know where they were. Great.

He yanked the door open and came out to look at Ashton. “I have a tattoo,” he said, a little gleefully.

“No shit. What is it?”

“It’s a dog with some weird numbers.”

“Show me.” Ashton held his arm once Michael offered it, looking at the tattoo. “Shit. We’ve got soulmates. Do you know anyone-“

“No. I’ve never seen the dog in my life and I have no idea what the numbers mean. Is my soulmate a fucking prisoner?”

“I don’t know. You’ve had it for all of an hour, don’t be so negative. I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate. Maybe you’ll get a nice tingle when you meet him-“

“Shut up, Ashton. What’s yours say?”

Ashton rolled his short sleeve up to reveal the tattoo. Like he’d said, it was a lamington, with sweet intricate letters on top of it.

“Luke,” Michael read aloud. “It says Luke.”

“Do you think that’s his name?” Ashton asked, looking surprisingly soft and vulnerable. No wonder. This was his soulmate.

“Yeah. Probably. You’re in love with some guy named Luke. Do you know anyone named Luke?”

Ashton shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He frowned a little.

“At least you’ve got it easy. You can just pop in places and try and find someone named Luke with a tattoo with stuff about you. How am I supposed to find the owner of the dog?”

“We could make a flyer?” Ashton suggested. Always so reasonable. “I’m sure there are groups online for it. We can join those. We’ll find you your soulmate, Mike, I promise.”

Michael nodded, comforted by Ashton’s ever present ability to come up with plans. It sounded like a good one, anyway. “Want to order a pizza?”

Ashton laughed. “Is that the only thing on your mind? Yeah, I guess. But I can always go grab it, the place is just around the corner.”

“You just want to look for Luke.” Michael pouted. Ashton flushed. So he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, but I can grab you some of those sweets you like from the bakery?”

Michael perked up immediately. “The sugar buns?” They were like heaven, sweet balls of dough rolled in some magical kind of sugar. He was addicted to them.

“Yeah. Those. I’ll be back in fifteen. Unless you want to come?” Ashton offered, though he seemed skeptical. And rightly so.

Michael crinkled his nose. “And deal with people? Absolutely not. Shoo, peasant. Go get me my pizza.”

Ashton just laughed his way out the door, leaving Michael back alone with his thoughts. About his soulmate. He had honestly no idea who it could be. His dating life had been rough lately. And by rough, he hadn’t actually seen anyone in over a year. Life just hadn’t really made any room for it. He’d focused his energy on his fleeting crushes. Soft brown eyes and squishy cheeks and a smile that made him feel warm inside drifted back into his thoughts. Calum. He wondered what Calum was feeling at the moment. They’d only talked a handful of times now. He wasn’t his soulmate. Calum probably had someone taller. More attractive. More deserving of him.

That was a little depressing. He sighed, frowning and slumping against the couch. He wished he’d actually gone with Ashton and braved the people just so he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. His phone buzzed, loud in the silence, against the coffee table where he’d left it. He answered it, a little unsure why he was being called.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I found him, Mike. I found him.”

“Found who, Ashton?” Why did he choose now to not explain?

“Luke.” Oh. Oh. Fuck. He’d found his soulmate-

“Already?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

“He works at the bakery. He said- he was saying lamingtons were his favourite of what they offered, and I asked his name. He said it’s Luke. He offered to tell me his tattoo once he gets off. He gets off in fifteen minutes-“

“Go,” Michael said, once there was a pause in Ashton’s excited and slightly frantic words. “Go find out his tattoo. Spend some time with him. I’ll just go pick up the pizza and have some time to think.”

“Are you sure? I can always come back after and just get his number.”

“I’m sure, Ash. He sounds nice. You’d do the same for me. I’m happy for you. Really. Go bond with him. Romance him. Take him out for dinner. Really woo him and give me the good details tomorrow.”

There was a pause, before a relieved. “Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow, I swear. Talk later.” Before there was a click, indicating that Ashton had left him for his lover.

That was fast. Ashton had already found his soulmate. Michael wondered, idly, what it felt like. To know who you belonged with. At least he knew someone out there belonged with him. It was just a matter of finding them.

He’d maybe look for one of the online groups that Ashton had suggested later. For now, he was going to pick up his pizza and enjoy it, even if he was stuck by himself. So he grabbed his keys (he wouldn’t forget them now, not after having locked himself out four times since moving in) and pulled his sweatshirt back on for extra protection before trudging outside.

It was gorgeous out, a crisp feeling in the air indicating the turning of seasons coming soon. Michael wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or not. He was all mixed up inside, and didn’t know where to begin sorting it out. Normally, he talked to Ashton and he helped him begin untangled the complicated web of his emotions. But he was currently occupied. So he’d have to do it himself. Or ignore it and wait. Which sounded much better at the moment.

He almost tripped over a dog, since he had his hoodie up over his head, having to stumble a bit to catch his balance.

“Sorry! Rocko likes getting in peoples way. Are you okay?” The stranger walking said dog asked immediately. Though, there was something familiar about his voice that had his gut churning. In a good or a bad way, Michael couldn’t decide.

He looked up from beneath his hoodie, shocked to see Calum standing there. Calum from the pet store. Recognition dawned on Calum’s face and he gave him a happy smile. “Hey!” Calum said, tone just as happy. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” Michael gave him a smile, albeit a slightly strained one. Couldn’t he see he was having a crisis? And mourning what could have been between them? Calum was gorgeous and loved dogs and seemed so nice. He could’ve been his soulmate. But he was stuck with a stupid prisoner or something. Not that he minded too much. Any soulmate was good. Any at all. As long as they weren’t, like, a murderer or something. That would be pretty bad.

“How have you been? All the news this morning has been crazy. I think my phone’s been blowing up since before I woke up.” Calum’s face squished up in that weirdly endearing way that happened when he smiled sometimes. It definitely didn’t make Michael’s chest flip around. Or his heart flutter. He wasn’t sappy like that. He had a soulmate somewhere.

“Mine too. My friend Ashton called me like eight times to make me wake up at nine am just so I could watch the news.” Which was fair, actually. It was a monumental event. Ashton was nice to not let Michael sleep through it. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. He knew anyway. “Then he was rude enough to offer to order pizza and then ditch me to find his soulmate.”

Calum laughed and, wow, that was Michael’s new favourite sound. It did something absolutely weird to his belly that he didn’t understand at all. It was like some sort of flip floppy butterfly thing. He didn’t entirely hate it. “At least you didn’t sleep through it! I feel so bad for all the people without marks. I hope they end up with them eventually, if that’s what they want.” He paused, gaze focusing on Michael. “Do you have a mark?” Before Michael could try and figure out what to say, Calum was waving it off. “Sorry, Sorry. That’s awfully personal. You said you’re grabbing pizza, right? From Alfredo’s around the corner, by any chance?”

Michael didn’t even know what to think about all of that. Did Calum have a soulmate? Had he found them already? He really didn’t know. And he especially didn’t know why he was so fucking attached to the guy from the pet store who reminded him of a puppy. “Yeah, actually. They make the greatest pizzas. It’s a crime to order anywhere else if you can avoid it.”

Calum grinned, face doing that squishy-cheek thing again. “That’s right on my way! I can walk with you, if you’d like?”

And yeah. That sounded really nice to Michael. Of course he’d like. “Sounds good to me.” It sort of hit him then, that this was Calum’s dog. And he felt his heart sink right down into his gut where it died. There was no chance for him to be his soulmate now. Not at all. Rocko, the giant German Shepard he was walking, didn’t match the clearly small dog tattooed on his arm. At least it was still covered by his sweatshirt so they didn’t have to make awkward chit chat about it. “It’s great weather outside for dog walking,” Michael said, just because he was a masochist and enjoyed causing himself pain.

“It really is. I think Rocko will actually be worn out, which is an impressive feat. He’s hard to wear out sometimes. He’s young, so he has more energy.”

Michael nodded. He was still, irrationally, hurt that the love of his life, this man he’d talked to maybe three times, wasn’t his soulmate. Who the fuck else could it be? He hadn’t met anyone new in the last few weeks. Oh fuck. What if it was a customer? He’d met plenty of those. God, that would suck so bad. It would be so much harder to find his soulmate that way. And he’d have to hate them because they were a customer. “I don’t have that problem, really. I just have small dogs so they’re easy to wear out.”

“Southy,” Calum remembered, pleased with himself. “And...oh fuck, don’t tell me. I’ll remember it.” He paused for a moment, presumably to think. “Moose! Moose moose moose.”

Michael smiled despite himself and his insistence on staying in a foul mood. It was sweet that he actually remembered his dogs’ names. “Yeah. That’s them.”

“And Southy’s your ESA. Right. I remember.”

Michael just nodded a little bit. Calum had a good memory. Much better than his, his was shit. Except for when it came to whoever’s turn it was to order pizza, or Ashton’s mistakes. “Yeah.”

“He’s the good boy.” Calum smiled at him, and Michael’s stomach started doing somersaults. Not his heart. That was too cheesy.

“Yeah. He is.” Michael was an idiot. He sounded like a broken record. Couldn’t he find something else to say other than yeah?

“How did the nursing home go? That was where you were taking him, right?”

Damn Calum and his genius memory. “Yeah, it was. And it went really well. The old people really like him. I could do without the old women trying to squeeze my face, though.”

Calum laughed and oh, okay, maybe being a dork was a little worth it if he got reactions like that. “My friend’s grandma does that a lot. I get it. They mean well but, man, my poor face!”

All too soon, they ended up reaching Alfredo’s. Michael hadn’t bumped into him too far away from it and there wasn’t a good way for him to drag the conversation out any longer. Not without being painfully obvious, at least. He gave Calum a slightly reluctant smile. “Right. Here we are I guess.”

“Alright, well, enjoy your pizza! I’ll see you soon?” Calum seemed pretty genuine about it. But he always did. So who knew if he was being real.

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hopefully? Yeah again? Michael was an idiot. “Uh. See you.” He went into Alfredo’s, regretting every single thing he’d said in his entire life, and his own birth.

————————

Michael decided against going in to see Calum again for a while. He needed proper time to process. And think about his soulmate. Ashton had helped him look online for his. They’d had no luck so far. No one had anything relating to Michael at all. Which sucked.

“Maybe it’s defective,” he’d said one day, backwards on the couch with his head hanging over the edge while Ashton scoured the internet in search of Michael’s soulmate. “Maybe I really don’t have one and this is just a cruel trick.”

“Or maybe you’re dramatic and we just haven’t found them yet.” Damn Ashton. Not even letting him whine.

They’d continued looking, but nothing had come up. Luke, though, was nice. Michael had gotten to meet him about a week after the day him and Ashton had meet. He was sweet, if not a little awkward. He worked at the bakery, though, so more often than not he brought sweets to Ashton and sometimes he’d let Michael have some. He was pretty great.

Ashton was happy. He could see it in the smitten way he looked at Luke when he thought he wasn’t looking. In the way he smiled in that fond way he reserved just for him when Luke was rambling on about something, in the way he reassured him when Luke got embarrassed afterward. And Michael was happy for him, really. But he was a little jealous inside somewhere, just because it had been so easy for him. He’d found Luke right after he’d gotten his soulmate mark. There was no worry, no feeling like part of you was wandering out in the world with no way to track it down. He had it easy. And Michael thought that that might make it harder for Ashton to understand what he was going through.

Michael didn’t really know how to explain the feeling. It was just sort of...wrong. Like his heart ached all the time for someone he didn’t know and had never met but somehow he knew he was missing. It felt like he’d lost some part of himself somehow and that was just the scariest part of the whole thing. Because he was still Michael, nothing had changed about that. Except for the tattoo. Ashton seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone about it, so he didn’t tease too much. He was nice, gave him enough distance to process but not so much that he felt unsupported. Michael was grateful. But he was frustrated.

————————

He almost managed to put Calum out of his mind entirely. For the time being, at least. He was so wrapped up in his feelings and his mini spiral and focusing on his soulmate and how weird it felt not being around him, he didn’t have much time or mental energy leftover to dwell on the guy who was still pretty much a stranger.

That all came crashing down the following week, when him and Ashton worked another shift together. They’d worked at the coffee shop together for close to two years. Ashton, being the person he was, had eventually become manager. A position that he didn’t mind so much but Michael liked to poke fun at. Because he was nice.

“Have you seen him again?” Ashton asked, between handing a coffee to a customer with a smile and taking another order. “Calum?”

“No,” Michael grumbled, frowning as he grabbed a cup to make another drink. “Why would I?”

“You said you were in love with him. Why aren’t you at least figuring out if he’s your soulmate?” Ashton glanced over at him. “I need another iced mocha with extra whip.”

Michael sighed, looking at him. “Because he’s definitely got a soulmate that isn’t me. I can feel it Ashton. In my soul. He’s not interested in me and I’ll have to just scrap the proposal and suck it up.”

“You don’t know that. You could always ask him. I need an iced mocha with extra whip.”

“But I do. I don’t have to ask to know that. And why would I bother making a fool of myself when I already know that he’s got another soulmate somewhere?”

“Michael. Iced mocha. Extra whip. And you don’t know that, you’d just rather not ask than-“

Michael didn’t catch anything else he said. He’d finally started on the stupid coffee - which, really, it was more sugar than coffee so he hoped whoever fucking ordered it enjoyed their sugary heart attack at one pm on a Tuesday - when he’d glanced up. And that was an awful idea. Because the next person who entered the shop, complete with the little jingle of the bell over the door, was Calum.

“Welcome to Great Awakenings,” Ashton started in once Calum approached the counter. “What can I get you?”

Michael was staring. Openly. So when Calum smiled and looked over at him, he ducked down beneath the counter to try and avoid looking like an idiot. The only problem was, he spilled the jug of milk he’d been using for the mocha over his head. Ashton heard the clang of the metal hitting the floor and turned to look with a frown, taking in Michael on the floor covered in milk.

“Michael?” He asked, slightly startled. Michael wasn’t even sure how he ended up in this situation. The only explanation he could come up with was that the universe obviously hated him. First, introducing him to Calum and then not making him his soulmate. And now this. He was going to have to fight the universe. He was pulled out of his burning embarrassment by Ashton’s voice. “You go take your break. I think I’ve got an extra shirt or two in my car. I’ll...finish up here.”

Michael stood, chancing only the slightest glance at Calum with his face burning and completely drenched in milk, before he trudged out the back to Ashton’s car in search of a clean shirt and his dignity.

————————

Michael never did bother talking about it. Ashton had put two and two together and, after a couple unsuccessful attempts at asking, dropped the subject all together. Well...for all of four days, at least. That seemed to be Ashton’s limit, since he brought it up again when he’d invited Michael out to grab coffee. Somewhere else other than their work, thankfully. He’d invited Luke to join, with Michael’s approval, since they were trying to work out their dynamic. Which was fine. Everything was fine. He was running late, which gave Ashton the perfect opportunity to try and lecture him.

“Why don’t you just ask him, Mike? You’re sitting around making yourself miserable. The least you can do is ask and actually have a reason for being miserable.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that. And I’m not going to ask him because I already fucking know the answer and I’m not embarrassing myself for the second time in front of him. You don’t get it. Just because everything’s perfect for you and Luke doesn’t mean it’s perfect for everyone else.” Michael regrets his words as soon as he sees something like hurt flash across Ashton’s face. He doesn’t like feeling guilty. Or hurting Ashton’s feelings. It’s...difficult to do, and Michael should’ve been better at avoiding it considering how long they’d been friends. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice softer. “I just mean...you found your soulmate fifteen minutes after getting your mark. And that’s great. I’m happy for you. But it’s not like that for me. I’m..still looking. We haven’t had any luck finding whoever I’m supposed to be with. There’s no point in assuming it’s Calum.”

Before Ashton can give what would probably be an annoyingly reasonable answer, Luke makes his way over. He kind of reminds Michael of a newborn calf. Long legs and a little bit awkward. He smiled, with the same smitten look Ashton always gave him, and sat next to him, pecking his cheek. Gross. “Hey, what did I miss?”

“Michael is lamenting about his lack of soulmate. And how he won’t ask the man he insists is the love of his life what his soulmate mark is.” Michael glared daggers at Ashton, offended that he’d reveal such personal information to anyone. What a jerk.

“Oh. Why don’t you just ask him?” Luke asked, tilting his head.

“Because they’ve only talked four times and Michael insists that it isn’t helpful. Because he obviously already has a soulmate.” Ashton sipped his coffee with a disconcertingly knowing look. He didn’t like that look on him. Not at all.

“You don’t know that, though,” Luke pointed out, lips pulling into a frown. “I thought Ashton did too, until I found out he didn’t. Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Calu-“

“If you tell him, Ashton, I’m not coming to your wedding and I’m never going to cover a shift for you ever again-“

Luke looked startled at the revelation. “Calum? Like, pet store Calum?”

It was Michael’s turn to be shocked. “Wait, you know him?”

Luke’s startled expression didn’t shift. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.” He stared at Michael for a very long moment. “Oh my god. What is it?”

Michael felt lost in like eight different ways. He didn’t even know where to begin. “What is what?”

“Your mark. What is it?”

That really didn’t help Michael’s confusion at all. He just felt worse. “It’s a dog. With some weird numbers. I don’t see what that has to do-“

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’re both so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

Michael frowned. That wasn’t very nice. “What’s wrong with you-“

“He’s got two dogs. And a strand of numbers.” Luke looked at him, expression somewhere between incredulous and pained.

And oh. Oh. Oh. That changed...a lot of things. “But how do you know it’s him? We could be wrong about it. Maybe it’s not...maybe it’s...”

“Where is your mark? Can I see it?” Michael didn’t like showing it off much. But Luke was sweet and trying to help so he rolled up his sleeve. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. That’s Duke.”

“Who’s Duke?” Ashton chimed in, though his smug expression said he already knew. Michael wasn’t even sure he actually wanted to know.

“Calum’s dog. He loves him to death. You both are so- he saw your mark on that group for people who haven’t found their soulmates but he thought you didn’t like him. When he saw you getting at the coffee shop, he was going to tell you, but after you ducked down to get away from him, he figured that you probably didn’t like him and wanted to pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.”

The new information sent him reeling. It took him a couple of moments to process before his brain was capable of functioning again. “I thought his dog was Rocko,” he finally said, a little dumbly.

Luke shook his head. “That’s his neighbor’s dog. He agreed to take him on a walk after she had to go visit her mum in the hospital.”

Michael was silent for another couple of moments. “So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, he thought you hated him. He was excited.”

Another few moments of silent contemplation. “I’ll be right back. I have an...errand to run.” He pushed back from the table and left, leaving his iced coffee on the table.

#malum #calum hood #michael clifford #calum hood fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #my writing

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eddieeatsass · 5 years ago

Note

Hanzier smut? Richie hot n bothered, so he gets Mike hot n bothered and rides him?? ( if ur still taking requests...) Because bottom Richie rights

BOTTOM RICHIE RIGHTS!!! I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you’re happy with the results. Read on AO3 or below:

Mike slowly felt himself drift into consciousness, awarenesscoming back to his senses as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. He felt next tohim for his warm-bodied companion but found empty rustled sheets instead. Mikedecided to take another moment before getting out of bed to search for hisboyfriend.

When he finally padded down the hallway, lit up by earlymorning sun that covered his skin in waves, he found the kitchen and livingroom empty as well. He busied himself with making coffee, stretching himselfout as the coffee pot filled drip by drip.

Yesterday had been exhausting, leaving his muscles feelingstiff from sleeping so deeply after such a long day. Him and Richie had arrivedat the beach house well into the evening, after a day full of travelling.They’d ordered a mediocre pizza before passing out in uncomfortable positionsthat they’d seemingly held all night, if the rigidity in Mike’s limbs wasanything to go by.

Once the coffee was done, he poured himself a cup and madehis way towards the back door, having no doubt where he’d find Richie.

Richie was a capital B beach bum. He got restless anytime hewas away from the water for too long. Something about the sand between his toesseemed to ground him, so when Mike had suggested that they get a summer beachhouse, it had earned him tons of gratitude from his excited partner.

This was the third year they’d spent their summer here sincebuying it, and Mike was used to Richie’s routine by now. Although usually a bedbug, Richie transformed into a morning bird every time they visited. He’d wakeup at the crack of dawn, as if the sun itself had reached down and shook himawake, and he’d be in the sand before he’d even grabbed breakfast. Thebeautiful thing about having a private beach was that Richie never had to worryabout looking unkempt, so he never bothered with looking presentable thosemornings.

As he’d expected, Mike spotted Richie wadding around in thewater, curly hair dripping over his shoulders and ivory chest reflecting thesun. Mike would have to grill him about wearing sunscreen later; also a routinethey’d fallen into each year.

Mike leaned against the door frame, holding his cup to hischest as he watched the goofy grin on his lover’s face expand, and then fall ashe got knocked over by a wave.

Mike waited until he was done his coffee to actually bravethe salty air and scorching sand, wincing for a moment when the sun hit hisgolden eyes, until they adjusted to the brightness. He slid the patio doorclosed behind him and walked down the steps leading him to the beach.

It didn’t take long before Richie noticed him, grinreturning as he waved wildly over his head as if Mike might not be able to spotthe only other person in the vicinity. He smiled, returning the gesture, beforesettling down into one of the reclining beach chairs they’d set out.

Richie came traipsing out of the water, a little pep in hisstep from a morning in his happiest place. He was wearing something that Mikehad never seen before, and he had to hold himself back from laughing at thesight of a tight leopard print speedo barely covering Richie’s junk.

“Good mooooorning Mikey!” Richie greeted, plopping down intoMike’s lap without warning. Mike let out a little oof before settlinghis arms around Richie’s waist and pulling him close, complaininglightheartedly about Richie’s wet butt soaking his boxers in ocean water.

“What are you wearing?” Mike asked, cocking one eyebrow andsmirking down at the offending item.

“It’s a speedo!” Richie defended, snapping the waistline againsthis skin for emphasis.

“Since when do you wear speedos?”

��What, a man can’t look good for his boyfriend?” Richiewiggled in his spot, rubbing up against Mike very deliberately. Mike’s hold onRichie tightened warningly and Richie stopped moving.

“You always look good; I just didn’t know speedos were yourthing.”

“Well. Now they are.” Richie said decidedly. “Besides, youlike it, don’t lie.” Richie squirmed in Mike’s lap once again, causing Mike tostill his hands on his mischievous boyfriend’s hips.

“Are you trying to give me a boner on the beach?”Mike asked accusingly.

“Mmmmmmmaybe.” Richie looked up at Mike through thick blacklashes, batting them to feign innocence.

“At least let a man have breakfast first.”

“But I’ve been waiting for you all morning.” Richie moaned.

The spot in Mike’s heart that belonged to Richie thumped alittle louder, drowning out the common sense he was trying to hold on to. Therewas only so much he could do when Richie spoke to him with such desire anddepravity.

“All right, get that little ass inside then.” Mike crumbledeasily, slapping Richie’s ass playfully in a gesture to get him moving.

“Mmmm- too far.” Richie mumbled, beginning to nose at thecolumn of Mike’s neck.

Mike laughed a little incredulously, deciding to humorRichie for a moment.

“So, what, we’re just gonna give our neighbors a show?”

“They wouldn’t complain.” Richie teased, his light kissesturning into nips that had Mike’s blood pressure rising.

“Richie…” Mike warned, beginning to feel himself stir in hisboxers.

“Come on Mike, I didn’t get off at all yesterday.” Richiewhined, the sound, unfortunately, only adding to Mike’s growing problem.

“We were travelling-”

“If someone hadn’t objected to joining the mile-high club, Iwouldn’t be so riled up-”

“I didn’t want to start our vacation with us getting introuble-”

“We wouldn’t have gotten in trouble-”

“You’re getting yourself in a lot of trouble right now withthat mouth-”

“Oh, sorry for missing my boyfriend’s cock-”

“Fine.” Mike gripped the back of Richie’s neck, pulling himinches from his mouth, Mike’s lips ghosting his. “You want me to fuck you onthis beach, right out in the open where everyone can see what a desperate cockslut you are?”

Richie’s eyes were wide, shock written on his features. Heclearly wasn’t expecting Mike to give in so quickly, but quite honestly, Mikedidn’t have much fight in him when his dick was throbbing.

It took a slight jolt from Mike to remind Richie to answer,and then he was shaking his head eagerly.

“And what do you expect me to stretch you out with? Oceanwater?” Mike prodded, the slight condescension causing a flush to Richie’scheeks.

“No, I-”

“You have 30 seconds to get the lube or you have to stretchyourself out.” Mike deadpanned, the inklings of a smirk twitching at the cornerof his lip. Richie loved it when Mike got authoritative.

It didn’t take long before Richie was stumbling to his feet,trying to beat the traction of the sand as he ran towards their beach house.Mike counted in his head, listening intently for the sound of padding footstepsexiting the house again. When they finally did, Mike was up to 38 seconds, buthe chose to keep that to himself.

He heard a tumbling and whirled his head around to see Richielosing his footing on the stairs, his body slipping horizontal as his hand heldon to the rail to keep him from fully falling. Mike noted the speedo, pulledhaphazardly around Richie’s knees, and guessed that the culprit of hisdownfall.

“Someone’s eager.” Mike noted, as Richie righted himself andtook the time to pull his speedo the rest of the way down, stepping out of itcarefully before resuming his sprint towards Mike.

Richie came to an ungraceful halt in front of Mike,thrusting the lube out with a triumphant smile, his breathing labored fromtrying to beat the clock.

Richie’s cock looked painfully hard, and Mike wondered ifgoing one day without fucking had always affected Richie this way, or if it wasjust since they’d gotten together. Mike’s ego would like to believe the latter.

“Alright, let’s get you satiated before some poor sap has tolook out their window only to be blinded by your pale ass.” Mike crooked hisfinger in a come-hither motion.

“They can admire my pale ass all they want, as longas you’re the one fucking it.” Richie responded without missing a beat,climbing back into Mike’s lap.

Mike laughed along with Richie, giggling into each other’smouths with a bliss that Mike only ever felt around the love of his life. Itwas a carefree laugh with no worries hiding behind closed doors or secrets hidingunder floorboards. They were as raw and open with each other as they possiblycould be, in a way that Mike hadn’t felt in any of his relationships outsidethe other Losers. He felt grateful that the world had allowed him to fall inlove with one of his best friends.

It only took a few minutes of kissing for Richie to getimpatient, tugging on Mike’s hand and trying to guide him where he wanted him.

“Please, Mike, just-” Richie panted against Mike’s lips, hisvoice breathy with need and cutting off midsentence.

“What, you want me to go in there dry after you went to allthe trouble to grab the lube?” Mike chuckled deeply, reminding Richie that hewas, in fact, holding the lube hostage in one tight-knuckled hand.

“Oh, fuck- yeah here.” Richie eagerly popped the cap on thebottle and squeezed about half its contents into Mike’s awaiting hand. It oozedthrough Mike’s fingers and down to his wrist as Mike’s shocked eyes flittedback and forth from the massacre in his hand to Richie’s face.

“Well jeez, think that’s enough, Rich?”

Richie made a noise deep in his throat that sounded bothneedy and apologetic all at once. As if he was sorry, but not really thatsorry.

With enough lube to drown a man, Mike had no problemslipping the first finger in. The others took a little more time, but withinminutes Mike had four of his fingers thrusting in and out of Richie, theexcessive lube making a lewd squelching noise that made Mike blush from top tobottom.

“Mikey, I can’t wait any longer, please-”

The switch from fingers to cock was effortless, Richie’sbody stretching to accommodate the intrusion like the well-trained boy he was.He slid down Mike’s length with a heady moan that crawled into Mike’s gut andignited the coil that was already pulling taut.

“I’ve got you.” Mike wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist,the action made easy by how tiny Richie was compared to him. Mike’s hand alonealmost engulfed Richie’s entire back, eclipsing the pale skin with dark umber.

Richie melted above him, his muscles relaxing under Mike’s holdand the familiar stretch of his hole.

Over the years, they’d discovered that Richie took to dickthe way others took to chocolate, or ice cream; cock was his comfort food. WhenRichie was nestled around Mike was when he was happiest, and Mike sometimesforgot how stressed Richie could get without his fill. Their trip really hadtaken its toll on him.

“Is that better, baby?” Mike asked gently, rolling his hipsand elating at the content mewl he got in response.

“Mmm.” Richie hunched over slightly so he could set his headon Mike’s shoulder, kissing his neck lazily as he began bouncing shallowly inplace. Mike let his hands trail down the length of Richie’s back, settling onthe globes of his ass and squeezing hard enough to leave crescent moons in hiswake.

Richie responded with a slight increase to his thrusts, butnot enough to satisfy Mike’s pulsing need.

“Are you gonna pleasure yourself on my cock, or just playaround with it a little?” Mike teased, nudging Richie’s forehead with his chinso he was forced to look up and meet Mike’s wanting eyes.

Richie gazed at him through a shadow of lashes, innocenceand deviance battling behind his eyes. Mike could tell Richie was trying todecide which response he wanted to give; whether he wanted to comply, or tease.

Richie straightened back up, placing his hands on Mike’schest for stability as he peered down at him, decision made and determined.

Locking eyes with Mike, Richie tensed his thighs and raisedhimself up until just the crown of Mike’s head was settled against Richie’srim. Mike’s lungs seized up in anticipation, before Richie was baring down andpunching the air right out of him, along with a drawn-out groan.

“So good for me.” Mike crooned, watching as Richie repeatedthe motion again. “So beautiful like this.”

Mike’s hands moved to Richie’s thighs, surveying the fadingmarks he’d left there a few days ago. He pressed down on one, noticing how itblossomed around his finger and caused Richie to let out a little gasp.

“Wanna mark you up like this again.” Mike said absently.

“Please.” Richie begged wantonly.

If it was possible to get his mouth on those thighs andstill fuck into him, Mike would have done so in a heartbeat. But as it was, he wasnot a contortionist, so he settled for putting it on the list for later.

They settled on a brisk but relaxed pace, letting themselvesenjoy the languid thrusts and the thrill that rushed under their skin each timethey remembered they were out in the open.

Mike ran his hands back up Richie’s body, taking his time totrace every curve and dip and crevice along the way. He payed extra attentionto Richie’s nipples, grinning when it caused Richie to arch his back furtherand turn his head towards the sky.

Once Richie was red chested and begging for release, alreadywound so tight even though they’d only been at it for a few minutes, Mike lethis hands trail the rest of the way towards their destination. Thick fingersthreaded through black hair, which reflected in shades of brown and bluedepending on how the sun chose to illuminate it. Richie’s hair was one of Mike’sfavorite parts of his appearance, though it was tough competition if he wasbeing honest. He loved everything about Richie, but there was something especiallyappealing about the way those soft curls would tighten around his fingers, caginghim in as if they had a life of their own and never wanted to let him go.

In response, Richie’s hands darted into Mike’s own hair,which had been grown out since their younger years, and was now pulled into abun atop his head. Mike had voluptuous curls of his own, but the sides and napeof his neck were all shorn, leaving the natural curls atop his head the main focalpoint. Richie had loved every hair style Mike had worn over the years, but thisone was by far his favorite, and he was vocal about it, too.

“God, you’re so sexy Mikey-” Richie breathed, eyes liddedand already looking fucked out of his mind. He absently pulled off the elasticthat held Mike’s hair in place, and dug his fingernails deep into his scalp,watching as the curls cascaded down to frame Mike’s face.

Mike pulled him in close, leaning their foreheads against oneanother, and settling his gaze where they were connected. He watched intentlyas Richie continued to grind up and down, slowly squeezing the life out of Mike’scock.

He couldn’t help but grind his hips, imagining himself stirringRichie’s insides around. And if Richie’s reaction was anything to go by, itprobably felt fairly similar. Moans were dripping out of his mouth like saliva,getting higher and higher pitched as Mike continued his ministrations.

Mike pistoned his hips up once, experimentally, and receiveda resounding response.

“Daddy! Daddy- fuck- oh my god-” Richie’s hipsslapped down to meet Mike’s next thrust, his cheeks now marked with tearstreaks that Mike wanted to lick off. Richie never looked as good as he didwhen he was wrecked like this.

Mike continued to fuck up into him, leaning in and kissingRichie’s forehead, his eyebrow, his temple. Their mouths intermingled as theyboth labored for breath and struggled to keep their pace.

“Fuck… look at you, princess.” Mike whispered against Richie’slips

Richie keened at the use of the nickname, his entire bodyseizing up as he crested over the edge. Mike continued to fuck him through his climax,his touch gentle but his thrusts rough.

Once Richie finally stopped spilling out onto Mike’sstomach, aftershocks mimicking the waves behind them, Mike hit his ownthreshold.

Richie was pliant as Mike fucked up into him. He knew Richiewas probably experiencing overstimulation, but he didn’t make a peep, lettingMike ride out his own orgasm for as long as he needed to.

It was a long time before either of them moved again. The warmsun had a way of lulling them into even deeper of a post-coital bliss than usual.It wasn’t until a seagull squawked nearby that they were brought back to reality.

Mike stretched his arms up above his head, smiling down atRichie as he nuzzled further into Mike’s chest. By now he’d completely softenedinside Richie, and their stomachs were sticking together like someone hadpoured glue between them. He’d have to get them to a shower before Richie triedto prance back into the Ocean and claim it was ‘good enough’.

The seagull squawked again, sounding closer now and almost…human like. Now that Mike thought about it, it didn’t sound all that much likethe seagulls they were used to. He swivelled around as much as he could with anotherfull-grown man laying on his body and caught sight of the very-much-not-a-seagulltrampling towards them.

“Fuck! Richie, get up!” Mike scrambled to stand on his ownfeet, hissing slightly as he slipped out of Richie’s tight heat and suddenly feltmuch more exposed than he’d like.

“What’s going on- OH FUCK.” Richie stumbled backwards a few stepsbefore homing in on the fast approaching threat that had caused Mike’sreaction.

A few meters away, holding a sandal threateningly in herraised hand and a scowl on her face, was a woman who was speaking in spurts of Spanishand broken English. Richie had taken Spanish in high school, and although he didn’tremember much, he’d prided himself on learning every Spanish swear word therewas; and this woman seemed to know them all.

Richie panicked, turning around in a circle and searchingthe sand as if he could find a way to hide himself, maybe build a quick sandcastle and crown himself king. All may enter except this lady.

Mike, being the rational one as always, grabbed Richie’swrist before he started booking it back towards the beach house.

As they reached the steps, Richie realized they’d left theirlube behind, and high on adrenaline and panic, suddenly it seemed like the mostimportant possession he’d ever owned.

“THE LUBE!” Richie shouted to Mike, tearing his arm from Mike’sgrasp.

“Richie, leave it!” Mike shouted back, eyeing the woman whowas still storming towards them, now yelling words that he didn’t need to speakSpanish to understand.

“No one left behind, Michael!” Richie ran back towards thechair, slipping down on to his side and sliding along the ground like he’d seenBill do a million times in his baseball games. He felt the sand dig into his bareflesh and immediately regretted the decision, but he had no time to do anythingbut grab the bottle and run.

So, he did just that, kicking sand up behind him as he triedto move as quickly as possible. Ahead of him, Mike was holding the patio dooropen for him, anxiously ushering him forward as if it had the magic ability to makeRichie faster.

When he finally reached the stairs for the second time, Richiefelt something hard hit his back. He kept moving, his rapid heartbeat drowningout the yelling to the right of him.

He reached the top step, took a giant leap, and landedinside the beach house on wobbling feet. He turned back towards the door whichMike was sliding shut and locking into place, and he raised his hands in triumph.

Staring back at him from the bottom of their stairs, pickingup the sandal she’d thrown at Richie, was the middle-aged woman who had all butdamned them to hell. She was glowering in fury at the two younger men, the gripon her sandal strong enough to bend it nearly in half.

Richie lowered his arms, realizing it probably looked likehe was flashing her on purpose. He mouthed a guilty ‘sorry’ as Mike drew the blindsshut.

“Well… that was an experience.” Mike whispered, as if worriedthe angry woman might have superhuman hearing.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be digging sand out of my ass crack fordays.” Richie responded, turning and presenting his backside to Mike. The lube thatcoated his ass and upper thighs had acted as an adhesive for the sand he’drolled in, leaving him absolutely caked in it. At the sight, Mike couldn’t helpbut burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation.

“Alright, let’s get you a shower.” He chuckled,side-stepping around his sandy boyfriend and only getting close enough to leavea peck against Richie’s forehead before was disappearing down the hall towardsthe bathroom.

Richie trailed after him, leaving a literaltrail of sand in his wake.

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