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mrs-cameron · 3 years

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in my business (part 10)

“Time’s up” | the final part 💜 | Series masterlist

pairings: slowburn rafe cameron x reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, posted from my phone so i didn’t get the chance to spell-check it as i’d usually do

summary: After being split up for a little while, you and Rafe reconcile your differences when he finally realises he has to be a better man in order to be with you.

“Please, one more episode!”

Sarah rolled her eyes at her little sister, scooting out of the blanket she’d been cozily wrapped in over the past three hours. The three of you were hanging out in Wheezie’s room with closed curtains, allowing no sunlight into your space.

“Wheezie, we have to go to the beach now, it’ll get too cold in the evening,” she replied. You nodded at your best friend, scrolling through phone in hopes of catching Rafe’s username on your feed. Outer Banks sunsets, pictures from the latest kegger party you didn’t go to, occasional stories from the Wreck; tapping through the endless carousel of photos and boomerangs, nothing could catch your attention quite like your best friend’s brother.

“Hello?” Wheezie waved at you, shaking her head as she twisted her one of her swimsuits in her hand.

“Oh,” you finally had your attention on Wheezie, with Rafe’s image still in the back of your mind. “My swimsuit is in the bathroom. Should I change now?”

“Yeah,” Sarah mumbled with her eyes closed.

“I’ll change fast, keep her awake,” you told Wheezie and left the room, carefully closing the door.

Pacing through the long hallway, you thought you noticed some kind of noice coming from Rafe’s room. Impossible, you thought as you kept walking, quickly locking the door to change in the bathroom.

On your way back, you noticed the door to his room was opened just a tiny bit, enough for you to see what was happening inside. You tiptoed closer, mind wandering places it shouldn’t have. You were quickly put down to earth when you saw a woman folding Rafe’s shirts in one pile.

“Hi, I’m sorry,” you entered, looking around, “..to bother you.”

You paused for a moment, your eyes focused on one big suitcase standing in the middle of the room, two smaller ones open and half-full placed near a woman.

“Is Rafe going somewhere?”

The lady shrugged her shoulders as she kept putting things in one pile, carefully adjusting the corners of each shirt.

“I’ve been told to pack his things,” she replied.

“Huh,” you looked around his room, examining every corner and noticing how empty it really was. “Okay. Have a good day,” you said, glancing one more time before leaving.

Four days. Four long days since you’ve talked to Rafe, if that’s how you’d call it. Despite being torn by your parents and the Menzies on a daily basis, he kept living in your head rent free, the thought bubble over your head with his image didn’t ever bother to pop.

You heard things: he was around at the kook parties, and you successfully ignored Kelce’s weird texts asking you to come. Hanging around Topper most of the time, Rafe’s radar shifted towards Figure 8 once again.

Why be silent? Why can’t you talk?

You sat quietly at one of the tables at the Country Club, sipping on your milkshake while staring blankly at the end of the table. You found yourself at the second floor of one of their facilities, balcony area with golf field view turned into cafeteria. Parents insisted you went there once in a while, commenting on the relevancy the membership had.

It payed off, except it wasn’t access to most of the entertainment one could get in Kildare; creating social connections with other rich families was the main reason your parents joined when you were little, meeting the Camerons there.

“Hey, you,” you felt someone’s hand on your back.

You turned to see Carter sitting next to you, him being the one to get you out of your house for the first time in days.

“Sorry for taking so long,” he smirked at Sarah coming back from the restroom and taking another seat at your table, helping herself to snacks right away. “I’d honestly play some more,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

“And I told him to stop messing with me,” you heard Rafe’s voice from behind.

Not turning you head around, you tilted it enough to see the blurry figure of a tall boy with you peripheral vision. “I don’t mind, Menz,” you replied with straight face without looking at him, focusing your attention solely on what was happening behind you.

“That’s so awesome, Rafe,” you heard Scarlet’s voice. “Free table,” she motioned towards the table right next to yours.

Rafe would lie if he said seeing you with Carter didn’t touch off his fighting spirit. He hesitated to move, standing right behind your back.

Scarlet rolled her eyes, sitting opposite you. “Rafe,” she called. “Oh God!” She realised who were sitting next to her. “Hi, Y/n! Sarah, I missed you!”

You weren’t weak. Bottling your emotions for quite some time now and having mixed feelings about the presence of entire Menzies family in your life didn’t seem as hard as raising your eyes to see Rafe.

Yet you did just that. Yes, you weren’t weak, yet your stomach dropped when you noticed he was already staring. He looked down and froze in unexpected silence, and you kept gazing as if daring him to look again.

“Scarlet, right? You’re Y/n friend,” Carter broke down the awkward moment, putting his hand on your shoulders.

Rafe tightened his lips, looking away to the golf field. Carter was lolling back on the rear legs of his chair, sipping on your drink you allowed him to finish.

“She is,” you half-smiled.

“I thought you didn’t like the Country Club,” Sarah mentioned, turning her chair around a bit so she could see Scarlet.

“Yeah, Rafe sort of insisted we went—”

“Why not,” he suddenly talked over her, “sitting together then? Table big enough to fit everyone,” he looked to the side. “Plus Topper. Top!”

His yelling brought everyone’s attention to your spot; Scarlet raised her eyebrows, annoyed at having to move her chair to your table. You and Sarah exchanged looks, one could say, a real silent, mind-reading conversation happened between you in actuality.

The six of you ended up at the round table, each of you avoiding eye contact with a specific person.

“Place just for you,” Rafe motioned to the chair to the left of him, place on the right occupied by Carter. “Been a while since I last saw you,” he shook Carter’s hand.

“Catch me on campus,” Carter picked at him.

“I’m outside this box,” Rafe cut his short. “Tell me how you’re doing though, Y/n?”

You smiled with your lips tight, shaking your head at the absolute absurd this company was. “That’s nice you finally have the chance to catch up with me, huh?”

Rafe nodded, silently watching Carter’s fingers tapping lightly on your shoulder. Carter should’ve known it would piss him off, watching your latest argument through the window of your living room yet saying no word to you about it.

“And I have a chance to catch up with Sarah,” Topper spoke. “You’re a rare bird.”

“Oh God,” Scarlet said. “You broke up! Now I almost get the tension,” she glanced at you and Rafe.

Why wouldn’t you read the room, Scarlet.

“Topper, don’t even,” you said.

“I’m the bad guy, again? I’m just wondering how you’re doing, Sarah,” he rubbed his forehead.

“Yeah, like it’s illegal or something,” Rafe groaned.

“For the past four days, was it illegal?” You talked back, slapping your palm on the table.

“What are trying to start, Topper?” Sarah asked, hiding her hands in her sleeves.

An awkward moment of stillness began, no one bothered to look at each other but you and Sarah. You bowed her head at her as in, we’ll get through it.

“A conversation, little chat. Is it so hard to believe?”

Scarlet and Carter were out of the loop, the latter moving his cocktail around the table.

“Tell about yourself, then,” you exclaimed at Topper. “If you’re so eager to start the conversation.”

“Well,” he began. “Mom got me into some additional biology classes, plus a tutor. Kelce fucked up her vase in the living room, we’re mourning the loss. It’s not my time to shine, really,” he looked over at Rafe. “I’m not going to New York.”

“I am,” Rafe continued. “I’m going. Figured, why the fuck bother sitting my ass somewhere around here,” he watched Carter’s reaction, afraid to look at you.

Your face contorted as you sat straight, setting yourself free from Carter’s hand. “New York?”

“Ugh,” he paused. “Yes.”

“When did you find out you’re going?”

“The party three days ago,” Topper clicked his fingers. “That was sort of a goodbye to him.”

You tilted your head to the side, “Wow.”

Sipping out of the only half-full glass you found on the table, you felt like throwing the drink right in Rafe’s face, not sharing this type of news with the person he called his lifeline angered the shit out you.

“Interesting,” Sarah said. “Dad didn’t tell me. Again.”

“I’ll miss you, Rafe,” Scarlet added. “Life of the party, if you’re not aware, he’s the only decent dude to mack on.”

“Fuck if I know,” you said, nodding.

“Sorry, Top. You were taken most of the time,” she continued.

“So, are you coming home, Rafe?” Sarah asked, ignoring Topper’s presence.

“For a bit, before going away. You’ll have the time to get annoyed.”

Bearing your grudge was getting even harder. ”I’ll go use the restroom.”

You quickly got up, walking out of the table with the only wish to go as far as you possibly could from the crowd… more specifically, Rafe.

He watched you leaving without listening to the already dead conversation.

Except you made the wrong turn; not to the bathroom, to the staircase instead. Rafe noticed, licking his lips right before mindlessly getting up, creating an awful sound of the chair scratching the floor. Sarah crinkled her nose, watching her brother following you and feeling uneasy about the people she was left with.

“I’ll pay for the meal,” she said to Carter. “I realised I really have to go.”

You stopped mid the stairs, trying to calm down. Not necessarily crying, simply overwhelmed by the way Rafe played you. The sun hit your face through the window suddenly, causing you to turn around.

Turning your head up, you caught Rafe’s eyes as he stood one flight of stair away, holding onto a handrail. He let out a harsh breath when he saw you again, his face turned red right away.

“It was stupid of me to even consider you’d go a stupid lunch,” your voice echoed before he could even open his mouth. “But fuck you for ghosting me.”

“Stop it, I want to talk to you,” he said.

“And fuck you for telling me I’m important to you then not bothering to share you’re going away!”

He went a couple of stairs down, keeping his face straight. “Stop.”

“No. I have no idea what the fuck this summer was, Rafe,” you fumed. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do.”

“And fuck you for hanging with other chicks instead of telling me important shit!”

“She latched onto me last minute, I was on my own,” he almost whispered, being just a couple of stairs away from you. “Let’s calm down.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” you mumbled.

He took your hand into his, putting in on your chest as he rolled his eyes before fixating them on yours. Fingers of his right hand intertwined with yours, he put his left around your waist, pulling you closely.

“I don’t want to fight.”

Rafe softly brushed his lips against yours, as if asking you permission. Before he could pull back to see your reaction, you grabbed him by the neck dragging him for a passioned kiss; one of those kisses when you would be afraid to open your eyes again as if afraid to scare him off; although both him and you knew nothing could tear you apart.

First, he put you one stair higher so you’d stand a bit taller, continuing giving you soft kissed. When your lips parted, you spoke.

“I needed time to cool down. I’m done cooling down. I hope you’re done too.”

“I can’t do it like this anymore. What is this between us?”

Rafe smiled at you. “I mean,” he started, “isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Talk.”

He signed loundly, his breath brushed your face. “Didn’t I make it so fucking obvious? I can’t stop thinking of you, Y/n. My blood boils seeing you with anyone else. I want you all to myself,” he grabbed you, sitting you on the handrail, holding onto you for your balance.

You bit your lower lip, wrapping your legs around him. “I’m listening.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t enough,” he smirked, grabbing your lower back. “Aren’t you mine already?”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him. “Damn, what do I tell to all my other boyfriends?”

“Tell ‘em they can fuck off,” he whispered. “Tell them one is enough for you now. They weren’t so fulfilling, right? You like me?”

“No shit,” you grabbed his face. “You’re so stupid.”

“Hmh. Do you forgive me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” You teased.

He leaned back to you and you felt his hot skin on your face, both of you suddenly looked up when your heard steps coming from the upstairs. “That’s some cozy place we’ve picked.”

You didn’t move, waiting for the noise and voices to stop. Should’ve also pulled away from each other, but neither of you felt like it.

“I think they’re gone,” he hugged you tightly as you laughed, burying your face in his neck.

“Fuck,” you calmed down, losing balance for a second before Rafe held you closer. “God, can you please not drop me, or something?”

“I think we should leave,” he answered. “You’re not telling your fan Carter where you’re going, of course. You’re not telling him anything. We have some time left. I’ll tell you everything,” oh no.

No, you thought you forgot about the leaving part for a moment, head spinning and butterflies fluttering in your stomach while you had a grasp of Rafe.

“Right, Mr. New York,” you replied as he carefully brought you back to the ground.

He took your hands. “Dad’s only requirement for me to come back home.”

“Should’ve guessed,” you exhaled. “Either way, I’ll be away soon, too. But while I’m here, consider me all yours,” you stroked his hair.

“I wish I heard that sooner.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Everything and anything.

They say summer is never really ending in Outer Banks, but the weather was clearly proving everyone wrong as leaves started to drop onto the dry yellowish grass. You enjoyed every minute of your time with Rafe, promising yourself to spend as much time out as possible.

The only sign of you at home was the smell of your perfume in the morning, that is if you even came back for the night. Moving out would be the last thing on your mind; you and Rafe agreed you wouldn’t talk about until the last day, even though you felt like it would never come.

Surprisingly enough, it did come. Time flew when you had so much to say to guy you never thought you’d land: Rafe Cameron, your best friend in the third grade turned into annoying brother of your best friend you’d argue for fun with.

Just like that, the chapter ended. Both about to change your whole lives, you enjoyed the last moments of your shared one. On the very top of the Druthers, you checked the time on your phone you had put on airplane mode.

4:52 am

You watched Rafe sleeping on the air mattress while laying beside him, drawing patterns and circles on his bare skin with your fingers. The see was as calm as ever, the sound of soft waves would put you back to sleep if the time wasn’t so limited.

“I’m not sleeping,” Rafe’s voice cracked. “Is it sunrise already?”

“It is,” you replied, covering yourself with the towel. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

“What’s it?” Rafe asked.

“Well,” you sighed as he cuddled you from behind. “The summer. I love OBX in fall more than anything, and this time I’m not witnessing it.”

“Outer Banks is no fun when you’re not there. Hey, I got you something,” he got up, walking inside the Druthers. “Hold on.”

You waited for a couple of minutes, watching the pink skies as sun bloomed in the horizon. You took Rafe’s thermos, sipping on hot tea.

“Your old shirt?” You frowned.

“No, silly,” Rafe gave it to you. “Wear it.”

You obeyed, still putting the towel over it as it was quite chilly. He sat right in front of you, hugging your folded legs. Instantly, you felt more comfortable by him warming you.

“Okay,” he put his fist in front of you.

You bumped it with yours. “Stop playing, I don’t get you.”

“Look,” he opened his hand. “I told you I’d get the copy.”

He presented you the copy of the key of your uncle’s apartment. “See? Told you I’d get one. Now you take it with you, put it in your key chain next to your stupid key to college apartment. Think of me every time you hold them. I got one too.”

You looked blankly for a second right before bursting into laughter. “You fuckin’ simp,” you exclaimed.

“Come on,” he smiled, laying his face on your knees. “I want you to know that I’m serious,” he paused, “about you. I fucked this summer up, and I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be, Rafe,” you stopped him.

“Look, a burden is all I was for you —“

“No, Rafe—“

“And it stops from now on. You can count on me too. Always and with everything. I’m not the best in sharing what I feel,” he confessed. “But it’s changing. You’re so important to me. And I don’t fucking care if I was invasive when it came to you with that pogue, or stupid Carter. I want you to be with me.”

You stroked his fair, touching his forehead with yours. “Always so nosy,” you smiled and he reciprocated. “I’ll be with you, Rafe.”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend type of deal,” he clarified.

“Where do I sign?”

He slowly straightened his posture, grabbing your waist, and pressed his lips to your forehead. You put your head up, making his lip finally meet yours as he pushed you closer by the fabric of his shirt.

“Let’s never leave,” you suggested, laying down again and getting Rafe to lay with you. “The boat is okay to live in. I mean, the Druthers is alright. Overrated as fuck in my opinion,” you quoted the meme.

“I agree,” he replied and you put your leg on him, watching the skies get brighter by the minute. “Except, my father will simply kill me if he’d hear that idea.”

“Don’t worry, I will, um,” you thought this through. “I’ll Ward you off.”

“Okay,” he laughed, cuddling you. “Thank you for doing just that.”

Next thing you knew, you were a passenger on the private helicopter of the Menzies, pretending to be asleep so they wouldn’t bother you with questions. It only clicked the summer was over when you took off; the thought of being away from Rafe didn’t hit you yet, although it felt like a part of you already whined at his absence.

Rafe didn’t tell you this, but he watched you take off from the far; this particular landing strip being the one the Cameron often used for their flights too.

Did he blame himself for not pursuing you sooner? He did.

Did he wish you’d be more sure of him?

All he could think of was the stability he thought you weren’t so sure he could provide you, like Carter Menzies could, for example. Or JJ Maybank. He was the type of person whose devotion to people was unmatched, and Rafe would never admit to thinking that.

He would do better. Next time you’re in his arms, he would show it to you. Rafe knew he needed to let you know what he could be as a boyfriend.

Y/n’s boyfriend. Sounds fucking amazing if you ask him.

Rafe Cameron had to prove himself to you.

As your helicopter was lost to sight, he stared into the horizon for a good half an hour, lingering as to what was to come. His mind wandered the possible scenarios of your reunion, and little did he know, so did yours.

———————————

a/n: i’m sorry for taking so long to post the final part, but here it is!

i had no intention of posting it at first at all… up to part 4, i wrote out of boredom until i decided to finally share and i’m so happy i did ❤️

thank you! for all the support, messages, coming to my inbox, you are truly EVERYTHING!

please share your thoughts on the series with me!

also stay tuned for oneshots (or potentially another, smaller series, we’ll see how it goes🥰)

tag list: @mentalpolaroids @pogueslandia @iixbella @taylathornton @theepoguelandia @hopebaker @littlementalpolaroids @ilovejjmaybank @mildkleptomaniac @stilynskii @obxlife101 @thatshithurted8 @classygirlything21 @afuturemilf @bibliophilewednesday @tinawhynot @rafeseggplant @dalmanara01 @blondiekook @lemur46 @spiderlaufeyson @john-benderr @poulterfilms @glors3 @exenestea @darlingisntit @loveylangdon @28cnn @riot-race @starkey-babie @hockeybabe87 @jemimah-b99 @blissfullysin @maddyasleson @painlesslies @lazyunknownwerewolf @questionmymentality @poguesbau @barrysjumpsuit @millavalntyne @jessiq31 @bitchespinosa97 @asmalltowngirl @wtfkie @hayleyy-l @vinniehcker @rivercourt-always @proactivetypeofperson @thecatwhodreams @rafeswh0ree @yayooooooooo (please cyberbully me if i forgot to tag you i’m so lost at this point i’m sorry)

honorary tag goes to @in-my-body-bag because i forgot to tag this baby last time SHAME ON ME

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfiction #fanon rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

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Abby Anderson x GN!Reader - Please Don’t Leave Me

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Please Don’t Leave Me (I’m creative with my titles)

Can be found on AO3 here.

Setting: before Abby leaves to go golfing. Abby and the reader are in an established relationship.

Warning: angst angst angst, excessive usage of the f-bomb and discussions of murder.

(Y/N) replacer safe.

Word count: 1846

Fuck, she’s really doing this.

Every day since Isaac had granted the Salt Lake Crew leave to hunt down Joel Miller, you tried to bargain with Abby, tried to make her see some sense. That killing him won’t take away any of the pain she feels. The grief. The gaping hole in her heart. But she’d always brush you off, distancing herself from you, suppressing her emotions with bicep curls and crunches as per habit.

Each passing hour, a nail was hammered into the coffin of the woman you love. And this morning is the final nail.

The quaint apartment you call home is filled with a cacophony of rustling and pleas as Abby shovels supplies into her backpack, preparing for her hunt. In her mind, Joel’s death warrant is signed, the execution nigh. And God are you desperate, trying to drill some semblance of reality into her stubborn mind one last time before she embarks on a journey she’ll only regret.

“Abby, please just listen to me for one minute—”

“I need to do this.” She heads to your small shared closet, refusing to look at you from your position by the bed. You frantically try to intercept her path, knowing full well she’s much, much stronger and can reposition you with ease. But it’s worth a try.

“This isn’t going to solve anything,” you implore, clutching the wood.

“Move, (Y/N).”

“Abby, this isn’t going to bring him back. You know that.”

“Move.” Her tone is exasperated, utterly focused on packing her shit and promptly leaving. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

“That girl in the hospital. The immune one. She must have been like a daughter to him for Joel to kill a group of innocent people for her,” you plead, feet firmly planted on the floor. Searching for her eyes, those blue irises alight with a maelstrom of hateful determination. They meet yours. “Killing him will just put her through all of this.”

Abby reaches for the closet door and slowly pulls it open, acknowledging your reluctance to move, deciding to disregard it. The wood begins to dig into your back and you’re forced to step aside. “This isn’t going to end, Abby. You fucking know this.” As she folds some spare clothes and places them in her backpack, you fall gracelessly to the bed, needing to sit down. Bile climbs up your oesophagus. Shit, where was her sense of fucking empathy?

“Abby…” Once again, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, folding the garments in robotic fashion. “Abby, you said she was a kid. A kid.”

The final shirt is stuffed haphazardly into the bag. She grits her teeth and turns to you. “He killed dozens of Fireflies, (Y/N). Dozens. And that’s all we fucking know of. There could be hundreds of others because he’s a stone cold killer.” Her face flushes with anger, no remnants of the woman you know left behind. “No one person is worth that many fucking lives.”

You let out a breathy laugh in sheer disbelief. “But it’s not about them, is it? Not to you.” The words escaped you in a hiss, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “Never fuckin’ has been.”

Abby rolls her eyes and grabs her maps from the coffee table, iron fist crumpling the papers beyond legibility. “There could have been a cure. A fucking cure to all this.”

On the surface, her words are rational. One life for a cure that would save millions was a worthy sacrifice, that you would be foolish to deny. But the odds of developing this cure were slim, and the girl would have likely died in vain. You knew this. Abby knew this. Jerry knew this.

With a shaky breath, you cradle your arms, never before having felt the urge to cage yourself around Abby. Fingers firmly gripping at your elbows, you let the cards fold. Unadulterated truth.

“You’re in denial, Abigail.”

A tut. “Don’t you fucking ‘Abigail’ me.” Her previous efforts to maintain a steady tone have been vanquished, anger seeping into each progressing word.

She’s gone.

And it’s this precise revelation that fills your eyes with oceans. Throat closing up, nose burning with the urge to spill over, you attempt – attempt – to articulate yourself, to no avail. Seconds later, rivulets trickle from your eyes to your cheeks, and you find yourself sniffling like some stupid kid… No, not a kid. A grieving adult, bereaved by the loss of a lover. Because the other figure in the room is but a husk of the radiant soul you fell for.

“All…” You pause to inhale, deeply: a futile effort to regulate your breathing, to lay rest to the turmoil suffocating your ability to fucking think. “All that’s going to happen is… You’re going to have to—” Hiccupping, you close your eyes, praying no more tears would fall. “To live with the guilt of orphaning a kid.”

Sentence finally out, you surrender to your sorrows, allowing them to wrack your chest with sobs and heaves until it gets too much, salt freely spilling from the floodgates. You can’t…you won’t bring yourself to look at Abby – the machine in her place, one programmed to kill and kill alone.

It’s wholly terrifying.

Distress flickers in her eyes, her frown slackening for a fraction of a second at the sound of your despair. “No one is forcing you to come,” she puts plainly, as if that has anything to do with the issue at hand.

“You know this – isn’t about that. Fuck, even Owen knows this…this is a bad idea.” Too dejected to cry. Too dejected to battle the hitched breaths you take trying to force out the words.

Words that fall upon deaf ears. “That’s not what Owen told me.” She slots a Swiss army knife into her cargo pants’ pocket, headed with a canteen in hand towards the kitchenette. “He was there, (Y/N). He agreed that Joel needs to die.”

“Because he’s fucking scared of you!” We all are, nearly breaks free from your lips, but that’s not what Abby needs to hear right now. Nothing that will push her away. Further away. The reigns you have on your lover are fraying, leaving you grasping at nought but strings. Frenzied, you attempt a softer, less concrete approach. “Baby, it isn’t normal to be so…hellbent on revenge like this.”

Silence. The delicate trickle of water sounds from the faucet as Abby fills her canteen. Then, a sigh, one of frustration as opposed to defeat. “If you think calling me ‘baby’ is going to erase four motherfucking years of grief, you are sorely mistaken. You’re smarter than that.”

Patience thinning, you stand up, wading through strewn supplies across the apartment floor towards the kitchenette. “Four years and you still haven’t given yourself time to mourn properly,” you reason, deliberately obstructing her path out of the kitchen with your body again. “Maybe if you had you’d see some fucking sense.”

God, that was a mistake. Shit, shit, shit shit shit the last thing you want to do is piss her off, not with her mind in such a volatile state, devoid of all logic.

“I appreciate you’ve lived a fucking sheltered life since the outbreak,” she seethed. What?

“That’s not true—”

“And you have no fucking idea what it’s like to have someone ripped away from you like that.” Volume rising, words a mantra fuelled by detest. “And you know, maybe, just fucking maybe, this’ll be my one chance to put an end to this shit!” The fist not clutching her backpack clenches. And for the first time ever while alone in her company, you flinch.

“He fucking deserves this, (Y/N)! If I can show him a fraction of the pain he caused me—”

“Abby, you’re scaring me,” you whimper, closing in on yourself. Genuinely afraid she’d raise her hand towards you.

Had you a mirror, you’d know truly how perturbed you look in this very moment. Streamlines drying on your cheeks, eyes reddening and puffy from crying, wide with fear like a doe face-to-face with a moving car. Body subconsciously making itself smaller, reducing its surface area, reducing the likelihood for any incoming swings to hit.

She lowers her guard, colour returning to her knuckles as she unravelled her fist. Knitted brows returning to their natural place above her eyes, mouth parted as the horror of her behaviour settles in.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Even her previously stern voice cracks at this.

It takes tremendous willpower to not fall back as she takes a tentative step towards you.

Drying your eyes with your sleeves – her sleeves…you forgot you’re wearing her old sweater, the notion sour on your tongue – you break your mutual gaze. “You’re not you right now,” you whisper, not trusting your larynx to produce anything above a mouse’s squeak. “This isn’t the Abby I know.”

For the first time this morning, a sentiment other than bloodlust registers in her face. Hurt.

Either unable or unwilling to respond, Abby recommences her packing in solemn silence.

Shit, you have three, perchance five minutes at best to dissuade your girlfriend from leaving and doing something that will haunt her for all eternity. Yet all you can do is brace yourself against the wall and allow a second tsunami of tears to wash over you, pangs of anguish striking your heart. “Abby—”

“I’m going, (Y/N).” Firm, with a shred less conviction, but firm enough.

A violent sob tears through you as you beg, beg, the vessel of the woman you adore, “Please don’t leave me.”

For a fleeting moment, your heart stops as she hesitates in her tracks. A flicker of hope seizes your mind, that perhaps she has reconsidered, that finally some logic has entered her train of thought.

It all crashes down when she reaches for the spare rifle ammunition by the front door.

“Fuck, Abby—”

“I’ll be gone a month at most.”

Hail-Mary.

Please.

Chest shuddering with each sob that wracks through you, you utter through violently trembling lips and hiccups, “You’re so – fucking blinded – by your hatred – right now – that you can’t – fuck, see – this will – kill you—”

The gravity of the situation threatens to make your knees buckle.

Abby plucks her jacket from the coat hanger and wades over to your crippled stance by the kitchen. A hand brushes your salt-slicked cheek as a lock of hair is swept out of your line of sight. “I love you,” she whispers in pained honesty.

“Abby…” You try to take her hand, to ground her, to remind her of the life she’s leaving behind on her relentless pursuit of this warped sense of justice.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” She squeezes your palm and lets go, zipping up her pack as the front door to the apartment creaks open and slams shut.

Death is a word that isn’t used lightly, especially not after an epidemic takes the world by storm. But part of your spirit certainly died the moment that door closed behind her.

(I’ll leave it up to you whether she has a change of heart or leaves and scores a few hits above par.)

#abby anderson x reader #im sorry :(#abby tlou #angst #bad things happen bingo

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

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

"Sandwiches okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's good. You could use a nap.

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

But first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

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

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

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

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

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

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

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

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

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

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

At least it makes sense now.

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

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

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Were you ever close with him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you seen him since?"

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

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

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

"Anyway," he mimics.

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

"Is this why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Mm. I guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

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

"No. Just friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You listening, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, okay.”

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

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

What a fucking joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is happening to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need to tell Mike

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

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 41

Chapter 41

Series Masterlist

A/N: As I mentioned this chapter is pure filth (18+). I honestly was going to start writing what was supposed to be 41 (now will be 42) when this idea came to me and I ran with it. It’s long and it’s dirty ;)

There are some flashbacks in italics. Basically the chapter starts with current time and will have some flashbacks to conversations over the last couple days. It flips back and forth a few times until the flashbacks catch up with the current situation. Hopefully it’s not too confusing…

Warning: Drinking, swearing, smut, oral sex (female receiving), public sex, anal, daddy kink, spitting, maybe a little cum play, NSFW, alluding to cheating

Word Count: 11500

You continue to grind up against Allie, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. Even from this distance you can tell his pupils are blown with lust. You blow him a kiss which finally breaks his glare, a soft smirk spreads on his face. However it leaves as quickly as it comes.

“I’m gonna get a drink” you say after another song.

“Don’t” Allie whines.

“It’s my bachelorette I’m supposed to drink” you shimmy out of your friends embrace walking over to a corner of the club. You find Kyle and his group of friends, joining into a conversation with them for a couple minutes before you walk up to the bar alone.

“Your boyfriend let you out of the house like that” you hear a husky voice in your ear. His breath is warm as his hands grip your hips pinning you against the bar.

“My fiancé doesn’t get a say in what I wear” you snap back. His one hand leaves your hip to flag down the bartender and order a drink. You could take this opportunity to wrangle away from his grasp. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love how his knee is slotted between your thighs. Or how if you grind your ass back slightly you would feel his cock growing between the two of you.

“Fiancé" he muses pressing back against you. His cologne envelops the air around you, as his hand returns to your hip pulling you back against him. Your core heats up and your panties dampen and if he were to lift his knee just a few more inches you’d leave a wet mark on his dark denim.

You exhale and he presses back into you, pinning you against the bar, if he wasn’t pressed into you so hard your legs would give way. His lips ghost over your skin and you shudder at the feeling.

The sound of glass hitting the wood snaps you from your trance. He leans over you causing your breath to catch in your throat, handing you a shot. Your favourite shot.

“Babe why do I have to do a bachelorette party” you whine sitting down on the bed beside an open and empty suitcase.

Fred walks out of the closet with a few pieces of clothes setting them in a pile on the bed. He begins folding them, filling the suitcase “because I’m having a bachelor party so the girls said you had to have a bachelorette.”

“They are so outdated, the whole last night of freedom crap" you grab a pair of shorts and fold them setting them inside for him.

“Yeah I lost my freedom five years ago" he jokes causing you to roll your eyes.

“Babe all I wanted was to have some beers, play a little golf and have some steaks” he presses his lips to your forehead. “We don’t always get what we want.”

He chuckles and walks back to the closet, you following close behind. You lean against the door frame as he walks over to his suits scanning through them “so because Auston wants a stripper I have to have a party.”

You walk forward pulling out the suit you planned on him wearing to match you. You are flying to Vegas in a couple hours for the NHL awards which are tomorrow night, and then the following night is your bachelor/bachelorette parties. Auston argued that almost everyone would be there so it made sense to do them then, and the few remaining party guests could be flown down.

You however know that he wants to throw Fred a wild party, and Vegas is the perfect place for it. You tried to object but were quickly overruled by multiple members of the wedding party who all agreed. Now five of your friends are flying down to meet you and some of the WAG’s from players in Pittsburgh and also a couple from his time in Toronto.

“I told him no strippers" he laughs grabbing his garment bag to put his suit in.

“Really? I told Carlee I expect a stripper” you raise an eyebrow with a smirk. Fred stops what he is doing and brings his eyes up to you as he scans over your face.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious" he hangs the garment bag back in the closet.

“What if I am, would it bother you?” you ask innocently batting your large eyes at him.

He takes a few steps closer “I mean you’ve seen me naked right?” He scoffs moving his hand over his body, flexing his other arm under his t-shirt. His bicep bulges out from under the white cotton, and you use all your energy to not react.

“Yeah but you don’t put on strip shows for me" you grab a pair of socks from the folded laundry pile you have yet to put away and wander to the bedroom shoving it in the bag.

You don’t need the socks; your suitcase was packed hours ago. It’s bait. And you smirk when you hear Fred’s footsteps behind you.

“I can strip for you" he says pushing you back onto the bed. Pulling his phone out he scrolls through before finding a song and setting it down.

You almost choke when “pour some sugar on me" by Def Leppard begins to play on the speaker. “This is your stripper song" you tease.

“I picked a random playlist" he laughs peeling his shirt off as a blush hits his cheeks “shut up.”

He walks back to be a few feet from you and begins to rock his hips reaching for his belt. You lean back on the palm of your hands as he drags the leather through the loops. The sound of his buckle crashing on the floor echoes in your room.

Next he undoes his button and zipper. When he thrusts his hips forward your breath catches in your throat your entire body heats up. You smirk and playfully bring your hand to the side of your face pretending to fan yourself and he smirks, turning around his thumbs slide under the waistband of his shorts. Sticking his ass out he begins to toy with them, slowly pushing it down his glutes, letting you catch a glimpse of his navy blue boxers.

While his showmanship isn’t the best (he isn’t exactly known for being a good dancer); your entire body is on fire.

You want to pull him into the mattress and sit on his beard while your cum drips down your thighs coating his face. You want to pin him to the bed and ride him until your core can’t handle anymore and your legs are trembling. But before you can Elise’s cries come through the baby monitor causing Fred to stop.

“Not fair the stripper won’t have to compete with a crying baby" he does his zipper back up.

“No but he does have to compete with you" you stand up closing the gap. You breathe in his faint cologne putting your hands on his waist toying with the elastic of his shorts. “And there’s no competition babe" you press a kiss to his lips before heading to the door.

“Fred" you call out turning in the doorframe. “I said no strippers at mine either" you grin before leaving to head to the nursery.

“Bottoms up" he throws it back quickly as he watches you do the same, wincing slightly at the burn. Once your empty glass is on the bar his mouth is on your neck, cold and wet lips kissing your skin.

A light moan slips from your lips and you push your ass back, grinding against his bulge. He turns you around, hands on your hips dark eyes staring down at you. He parts his lips, tongue flicking over them; ready and waiting to be kissed.

His lips connect to yours as his nails dig into the thin material of your black dress. A kiss so fiery, it punched the breath from your lungs.

“My fiancé might see" you giggle pushing him away and taking a few steps towards a hallway. He grips your wrist pulling you back into his hard chest.

His eyes are dark and hungry with fire as your arms wrap back around his neck. Your head foggy from the alcohol you have consumed.

“Let him" he groans sliding his hands down your side before stopping on your ass walking you backwards down the hall.

“He plays hockey so he won’t hesitate to fight you" you groan and his mouth attaches to your neck. He has you pinned against the wall; the music in the club has the floor bouncing under your feet.

“I’m sure I could take him" he bites into your collarbone pulling a gasp from you. Your head turns and you lock eyes with Carlee and Allie. Their eyes narrow as they give you disapproving looks before you are dragged down a hall and around a corner before being pushed into a single bathroom, the door locking behind him.

Once the door locks you are immediately on him, hands running through his hair struggling to grab at anything, your tongue sloppily in his mouth. You can faintly taste tequila being masked by the whiskey on his tongue as he bends down to pick you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks further into the room. He sets you on the counter, one hand trailing up your thigh before sliding under the hem of your barely there dress.

“Do me a favor?” Fred is on top of you, a hand under your shirt, his shirt, lightly pressing circles with the pad of his thumb. He pulls it off throwing it aside and his mouth quickly attaches to your nipple replacing his thumb, his tongue flicking over it.

It’s the morning after the awards and you are enjoying a few more minutes with him before he leaves to go to his hotel room one floor down. You both agreed it made sense for you to have your own rooms for the night. This way all the women could drink and get ready in the suite before dinner and it has enough beds that your friends from back home can sleep there without needing to book a room. This way you wouldn’t have to worry about waking the other person up crawling into bed at the end of the night.

“What" you moan softly running your hands over his broad shoulder.

“Wear some baggy jeans” he sucks gently on your neck “a thick turtle neck" he gently nips your skin. “Hair in a bun, maybe skip showering today…”

“So you want me to go out looking terrible” you laugh gently.

“No” his head pops up. “You’re still going to look amazing like that. I just think less people will hit on you. I know what every guy will think if you wear something short and tight.”

“Fred” you groan.

“I know because I think it every time I see you in something short at tight. I won’t enjoy myself knowing that someone is thinking those things about my fiancé.”

“Uhuh" you groan as his hand connects to your nipple to gently pinch it. “I actually got you something so women won’t approach you. So they’ll know you’re taken.”

“Okay" he stops what he is doing, looking at you with blown pupils. You crawl out of bed and walk over to your suitcase pulling out a white tee and throwing it at him.

“Oh my god" he laughs opening it to see a custom shirt with a picture of your face printed on it. The words “back of ladies I’m taken” printed in big letters around it.

“I will wear this ridiculous shirt" he smiles. “But you" he pulls you back into bed hard causing you to squeal. “You have to cover these up" he gives your breast a soft squeeze. “And this" he reaches around to cup your ass.

His large hand presses into your thighs and his mouth ventures down your body finding the valley of your breasts. He licks between them before sucking on the curve of one; his thumb grazing over your clothed core.

“Fuck you’re so wet" he groans pulling the fabric aside so his calloused thumb can connect to your clit.

Your head falls back against the wall as he presses firm circles into you. Soft breathy moans fill the room and you practically feel his dick twitch at the sounds.

Your hands slide down his body, fumbling with his belt buckle before it finally gives way. You shove his pants and boxers down his ass a few inches, freeing his bulging cock. It slaps against his stomach and you lick your lips thinking about taking him in your mouth.

“Not now" he orders following your gaze. “I want to last, and if you wrap your pretty little lips around it I won’t.”

“I can’t believe were doing this" you eye around to the bathroom.

“What" he presses his pants and boxers down his broad thighs leaving them in a bunch at his ankle. His cock sapping against his stomach echoes through the room. “We’ve fucked in a bar bathroom before, been a bit but we’ve done it.”

He steps closer putting a hand on your hip as your legs wrap back around him, his hard member poking at your entrance.

“Last night of freedom or whatever” Fred smirks sinking inside your slick heat.

“Promise me something” you roll on top of him, hips straddling him.

“Anything babe” his thumb drawing soft circles on your hip.

“None of those last night of freedom dare lists” your hips roll against his throbbing erection.

“Dare lists?” he bucks his hips pressing it into your clothed core.

“Yeah those lists people do at their bachelor/bachelorette party” you grind down and he groans cupping your breasts in his large hands. He gently massages your breasts before rolling your nipple throw his two fingers.

He sits up bringing your nipple into his mouth leaving you gasping and forgetting your words briefly. “You know” you moan “get so many numbers…kiss someone…dance with a group of the opposite gender” you barely can form sentences through your moans. “Like a list of things to do on your last night as a single person. Like it’s okay to give out your number just because you’re not actually married.”

“I don’t think they do those at bachelor parties” he hums against your skin. “Think it’s more of a bachelorette thing” his teeth run across your pert nipple.

“But regardless I promise” he flips you on your back pulling your shorts down your legs.

Your black thong is hanging around your ankles, dress bunched up above your hips as he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck Fred” you groan feeling him perfectly stretch you out.

“Du har det så godt (you feel so good)” he huffs in your ear.

His hand slides down your body connecting to your clit as your nails dig into his shoulder. He pulls back almost completely before slamming his hips into your pelvis. Beads of sweat roll between the valley of your nipples, the mirror beside you beginning to fog.

“Geez” you groan not having seen this side of Fred in a while. Your eyes drop down his body. Having not removed his shirt you only see glimpses of his cock beneath the fabric as it slams in and out of your wet walls.

“You didn’t think you’d get to go out dressed like that and not pay for it did you?” he asks thumb releasing your clit to slide around your body and grip the back of your thigh. His other hand harshly digs into your skin pulling you to the edge of the counter. You know he is leaving bruises crescent shaped marks on the back of your thighs, marks that are well below the hem of your dress.

He knows it too. A warning to any other man who thinks of looking your direction that you’re taken.

“No" Allie yells as you step out of the bathroom in black vegan leather leggings and a bright red loose and flowy top. You have a pair of black boots with a 3 inch heel in your hands to complete the look. While it is simple, the boots spice it up just enough for you.

“We did not come all the way to Vegas for you to dress like that” she scowls eyeing you up and down.

She walks to your closet and pulls out the little black dress you packed by mistake. You actually thought it was a different black dress, and it wasn’t until you unpacked it from your suitcase you realized. That’s when you decided to change your outfit and wear the leggings.

And when you say little it is very little. The hem stops inches closer to your ass than your knees and the cut is significantly lower than anything you’ve worn in over two years, maybe since before Oliver was born. The straps, well you don’t even know why they are there, so thin you think they could snap just by looking at them.

It’s something you had no problem wearing before Oliver. Maybe it’s because you are older now, or maybe it’s because you’re a mother but it’s just not something you wear anymore. Allie however doesn’t let you respond instead pushing you in the bathroom with the dress.

A few minutes later you fluff your hair and stare at yourself. The dress clings to your curves, being tighter than you remember, and the heels make the length feel even shorter.

“Damn" someone yells when you open the door.

“I can’t wear this" you try to pull the fabric down your legs only for it to expose even more of your breasts.

“And why not?” Carlee crosses her arms.

“I’m a mom"

“Yes and that makes you a MILF" she smirks.

“I told Fred -"

“Well it’s a good thing it’s your bachelorette party and your fiancé isn’t around” Steph grins from over her wine glass.

He hastily grabs the thin straps from your shoulders with his teeth exposing your breasts to him. His mouth attaches to your nipple, dragging his teeth along it.

Your moans fill the small bathroom, if the music wasn’t so loud you’d be worried about people in the hall hearing. He pulls away, lips puffy and swollen and you whimper as the cold air replaces with warm mouth.

His hips snap and his nails dig into your skin. You’re hanging off the counter, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth to try and suppress your moans. Pleasure builds in your core, as he thrusts relentlessly in and out. Each time hitting your g-spot.

“Look in the mirror” he brings a hand to your neck giving it a light squeeze as directs your gaze.

You groan vibrates against the hand on your throat. Since having twins your time alone was typically hurried, fear of one off the kids needing you. You forgot how much you love his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the oxygen from your lungs.

You almost forgot all the things his hands were capable of. Forgot how sometimes you just need to be at his mercy as he takes complete control.

“Watch as I fuck in and out of your pussy" he growls tightening his grip. “Watch your pretty little face fall apart” he muses admiring the mess you’ve become. The mess he made you.

“Next question" Carlee calls grabbing the sheet from Allie. “What is (Y/N)’s favourite thing about you?”

“Easy" you smile twirling your wine glass. “How amazing of a father he is.”

“Boring" Sarah yells with a smile.

“We specifically told him no answers about being parents. Those are too easy and basic" Carlee smirks.

“So besides being a dad, what do you think Fred thinks your favourite thing about him is?”

Heat hits your cheeks and your eyes go wide imagining what he would say. You bury your face in a pillow only to have it ripped from your hands and thrown at you with a giggle. You know they sent him this list while he was away on the road, so you know he had hours to sit around and think of the best possible answer.

“He probably said his dick game" you laugh thinking he would try to give some crazy answers just for the reaction of your friends.

The room fills with laughter “oh my god" you hear someone shriek.

“I mean there’s a reason we have four kids, he’s obviously doing something right.”

“No!” Carlee laughs. “He said his ability to make you smile even on your worst day.”

“Oh" you go quiet as your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink turning to your glass and pouring most of it down your throat.

“Do tell us about his dick game though" Allie yells.

Sweat is collecting along your hairline and you can feel it on your spine. Your mascara is smeared around your eyes, lipstick spread on his face. The lack of oxygen and the thrusting has your vision filling with white spots as your orgasm nears. You still try to bring your gaze to him in the glass, watching as he drags his thick member along your walls.

“You look so good with my cock inside you" he groans squeezing your neck again. You’re on the edge; your whole body feels hot. With a few more deep thrusts your legs seize, your nails dig into his shoulder as your orgasm hits you.

You clench around him and whimper slightly feeling him hit your cervix with each thrust. Your pussy flutters as warm juices drip down his cock soaking your thighs. With a few more thrusts he spills inside you, white coating your walls.

His hips finally still and his hand releases your throat. Before you can regain your breath you feel his lips on yours, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you towards him.

“Marry me" his lips press against yours as you try and recapture your breath.

“I am in a few weeks" you pull back smirking with a few deep breaths.

“No, marry me now. You should have been my wife already. Should have married you in Santorini" he presses his lips against yours.

“Wow this place is beautiful" you run to the open doors that overlook the cliff and the setting sun. The orange reflecting off the waves, the light salty breeze blowing the thin curtains.

“It really is" Fred says coming up wrapping his arms around you as you fall back against his chest. You both stand there speechless for a few minutes taking in the falling sun, basking in the few more minutes of warmth.

“We normally have the ceremony here, so that view is the backdrop of the photos. Sunset is the best time for pictures, and the preferred start time of our guests” a venue guide says to a couple as they walk through the space.

“We should get married" you turn to face Fred wrapping your arms around his hips.

“Yeah we will babe" he laughs putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s do it now” You press a kiss to his sun kissed cheek. “You, me, the sunset. What else do we need?”

Fred’s eyes go wide almost popping from his head and he laughs into your hair.

“Ha you were terrified when I suggested it"

“I think I was more shocked you were suggesting it, you always seemed a step behind me. So for you to be the one to suggest it I was thrown off. But we should have done it" he pulls out slowly and smirks as you whine at the emptiness.

“The next day I suggested more kids. Obviously I wanted a forever with you, should have just married you then” his mouth gently sucks on your sweet spot millimetres from your ear. “Which is why we should do it now. No Elvis impersonator though, has to be classy.”

“The wedding we have planned in a few weeks will be classy" you smile pressing him off you. With a huff he helps you down off the counter. “Waited this long, what’s a couple more weeks.”

“Torture” you hear him mumble as he adjusts himself back into his dark denim pants.

You scan around the room and realize they toilet paper is empty and they have blow-dryers not paper towel. Fred smirks as he brings a finger to your folds, collecting some of the cum that has spilt down your legs and pushes it back inside your sopping core.

“Just helping out" he gives you a few thrusts with his thick fingers before pulling them from you and bringing them up to your mouth and you open allowing him to stick his long digits inside. You moan around his fingers tasting yourself as you eagerly clean it for him. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you swirl your tongue around him before slowly pulling it out.

You pull your underwear back up your legs and smooth out your wrinkled dress. “So was that on your list?” he smirks wiping his hands on his pants.

“I’m not doing this” you throw the piece of paper back at her. You’re sitting at your booth at the third club you’ve been to since finishing dinner. Apparently nobody could decide on where to go so they opted on a bar crawl, and apparently there is one more stop. But given the energy in the club, the large crowds and how much fun everyone is having you can’t imagine leaving to go anywhere else.

“When we made this we said we had to do it no matter what” she laughs

“Yeah but were not sixteen anymore. When we were teenagers we thought you’re supposed to have a wild bachelorette party. But this is basically cheating.”

You remember the day like it was yesterday. The three of you sitting on Allie’s bed coming up with this list, you all promised that each of you would complete it whenever your bachelorette parties occurred. You had no idea what types of things normally happen and went strictly off of movies for inspiration. Now you can’t imagine doing most of these items.

“Okay, we’re not saying make out with a stranger or dry hump someone on the dance floor” Carlee says folding the list in her purse.

“But you can easily do these things and keep it all G rated. Kiss on the hand, on the cheek still counts and that’s not cheating” Allie adds.

“Fine” you grumble scanning around the bar before landing on a group of men. There is about eight of them standing around the bar, one is leaning against it. He is tall with light blonde hair and is laughing at something his friends said when he sees you and shoots you a smile before turning back to his friends.

“I hate you guys” you groan taking the shot from the centre of the table. You wince at the burn, setting the glass upside down on the tray. “You’re coming with me” you grab their hands and pull them forward with you.

Upon approaching the group of men you discover they are there for a bachelor party. A bachelor party for Kyle; the man who smiled at you just moments ago. You inform them it’s your bachelorette party, and without even waiting for your prompting Kyle asks to see your bucket list for the evening. He tells you his fiancé sent him a picture of the list she has to do, and is more than willing to assist you. Knowing that he is there for his bachelor party and won’t make any attempt to hit on you; you feel comfortable doing these tasks with them.

“What’s next?” Kyle asks taking a sip, having just completed the kiss a stranger tasks (on the cheek obviously). He pulls the list from Carlee’s hands before you even have a chance to answer him. “Oh this one next” he grabs your arm leading you out onto the dance floor where a couple of his friends are.

“Dance with a group of guys” he explains pushing you into the centre.

Some of the guys step up closing the gap but still leaving space between you. You feel a pair of hands loosely on your hips as you all sway and dance to the music. But you also have this feeling you are being watched. Scanning around the club you see many groups of people, but can’t pinpoint the lingering gaze.

“Shots” Sarah yells carrying the tray towards the group. Handing them out to everyone, her and Carlee join in with dancing. A few songs have gone by and everyone is laughing and having a good time. That’s when you feel it again.

You feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in your head as you wrap your hands around Carlee’s neck. Her hands find your hips and she pulls you in close so you can smell her shampoo.

“Thanks for tonight” you tell over the music and she kisses your cheek in response “for making me do this.”

“Love you baby” she winks. You feel another pair of small hands on your hips and a body presses up behind you.

“You have an admirer” Sarah says from behind bringing her hand to your jaw moving your head to the side. You find a familiar pair of dark brown eyes, Fred’s eyes, watching your every move over the rim of his glass. You give him a soft smile and he doesn’t give one in return, instead his eyes narrow. He doesn’t pull his eyes from you as he leans over to talk with Mitch and you now realize the glances you felt were from him.

“He’s looks mad” Carlee says her head falling onto your shoulder. The three of you continue to dance the group of guys still around you. Slowly after a few more songs some of the guys filter off the dance floor until it’s just you and your group left.

You watch as a group of women approach Fred and his friends. You smirk when a blonde in thigh high boots wedges her way between him and Mitch and tries to talk to him but he doesn’t give her the time of day. Some of the guys in relationships at least humor the women to be polite but Fred doesn’t make any attempt to talk with her, his jaw locked never breaking his gaze.

Regardless she doesn’t stop and it ignites a fire in you. You turn so your ass is to him and begin to bend down shaking it as you go. You almost make it to the floor before snapping it back and working your way up. Steph laughs knowing exactly what you are doing as she smiles and waves to Mitch at the bar. Once back upright you look over your shoulder shooting Fred a wink, if you were any closer you know you would see his cock tightening in his denim.

Next you turn around and grip Allie’s arms pulling her up against you as you grind against her. Mitch and Auston are smirking at the bar as they watch while trying to engage in conversations with the women. But Fred he still hasn’t even glanced at the one beside him.

She attempts to capture his attention by touching his wrist, running her finger along his watch. You blow him a kiss which finally breaks his glare, a soft smirk spreads on his face. However it leaves as quickly as it comes.

You continue to grind up against Allie, but you keep your eyes on Fred. Even from this distance you can tell his pupils are blown.

“I’m gonna get a drink” you say after another song.

“Don’t” Allie whines.

“It’s my bachelorette party I’m supposed to drink” you shimmy out of your friends embrace stumbling away. Blowing past Fred and his group you find Kyle and a couple of his friends in the corner of the bar. You join them for a couple minutes never once staring over at Fred. But the weakness in your knees and moisture pooling in your underwear tells you he is watching your every move.

“You sure knew where this bathroom was pretty easily, take all your girls here?” you tease ignoring his comment.

He throws his head back laughing “I haven’t been in this club in easily six years. But no I never brought any girls here.” He brings his lips to your neck sucking on your ear lobe “before you I had never fucked in a public bathroom.”

“Really?” you smirk raising an eyebrow at him.

“What you fucked in bathrooms before me?” he asks somewhat insulted but also laughing slightly.

“No, never” you wink gripping his wrist and pulling him out the door. The loud music echoes down the dimly lit hall as you take a few uneasy steps. His hands find your hips as pulls you back to his chest, guiding you toward the echoing bass.

“So how many guys have bent you over a bathroom sink huh?” his mouth is so close you feel his beard rub against your skin.

“Fred” you warn.

“That many eh” you can sense some jealousy in his tone. The two of you long ago shared the number of people you’ve dated, and those you can’t quite call dating. But you never dived into the details of where, positions or how many times, mostly because that information wouldn’t achieve anything.

You stop walking and he almost knocks you over. Turning your head to the side your lips so close you can almost taste his chap stick “it doesn’t matter if it was one or five men before you. All that matters is you are the only person who gets to bend me over a bathroom sink from this point on.”

His eyes flick over your face “besides” you smirk “there is no competition. You’ve always been the best at it.”

“Fucking right” you hear him mumble as his arms tighten around your waist and he pushes you forward. You turn your head laughing slightly when you immediately feel him sucking on your collarbone. You try to watch where you are walking but you lose all focus allowing him to take charge. As your arousal rebuilds your eyes flutter closed.

Pulling his lips away briefly he mumbles Danish praises against the shell of your ear. The music gets louder vibrating the floor under you as his mouth returns to your exposed flesh. Before you know it you walk into another hard chest.

A second pair of large hands grip your forearms to hold you in place and you hear a deep seeded chuckle from the man behind you. Taking a step back your eyes open to find Mitch glaring down at you.

“No wonder you guys have four kids" Allie teases from beside you. You can feel some of Fred’s warm cum leaking down your thighs, past where your dress ends.

“You guys can fuck whenever you want, but you can’t even go a few hours without fucking in a bathroom” Auston says somewhat bitterly as he takes a sip of whiskey. He has a smirk on his face so you know he isn’t actually serious. Fred takes a small step back allowing you to put a few more inches between yourself and Mitch.

“Well you’re really not going to like what’s next" Fred replies wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “But we’re gonna leave and go fuck in our hotel.”

“What!” Mitch exclaims. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Our bed is very comfortable" Fred presses his lips to your temple and you lean back against his chest. Normally you would scold Fred for being so blunt but you’ve had just enough alcohol to bring you to a point of little concern. To the point where the words spilling off his tongue turns you on.

“Our shower is very big too" you grin at Mitch.

“You guys are unbelievable” Allie laughs.

“It’s after 2, if we stay much later neither one of us will be in any shape to do that” you raise an eyebrow laughing.

“And we don’t have any kids to worry about so I’m taking full advantage of that. Thanks for the party guys" Fred tugs on your wrist pulling you out of the club not giving anyone a chance to respond.

The streets are packed and loud, cars driving down the strip and music filtering out from the various bars. The cool Vegas air sobering you almost instantly. It’s not that it’s cold; it only dropped a couple degrees since you entered the bar. It’s just that the bar was filled with alcohol, dancing, sweat and body heat, none of that found on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get a taxi" you stop in your tracks squeezing his hand so he turns around to face you.

“It’s like a 10 minute walk” he stares at some of the people on the street as they walk by.

“My feet hurt" you eye down to the boots on your feet.

“Should have worn sneakers" he grumbles.

“Sneakers don’t really match this dress” you roll your eyes.

His eyes narrow and he turns back to you “maybe you should have kept your promise. Instead of dressing like a high class escort" he shoots you a devilish grin.

Your arms cross your chest and your eyes arrow “you just call me, the mother of your children a hooker?”

“High class escort” he grins. “Literally seven different men have checked out your ass since we came out here. And don’t get me started on how many did inside.”

You scan over his face and he chuckles slightly pulling you in to his chest. His arms warp around your back while yours remain crossed between you.

“There is nothing wrong with being a sex worker (Y/N). It’s the oldest profession in the world; I just don’t like when I hear strangers at the bar trying to figure out if my fiancé is one because of her outfit.”

“Men are the worst” you grumble. “I should be able to wear what I want.”

“Mhm I agree and for the record you look amazing. Maybe next time wear something a little longer to the bar and wear this around the house when it’s just us” he brings one hand to tilt your head so he can look down at you.

“I think this dress is perfect to make breakfast in" he smiles causing you to laugh.

“You want me to cook in this"

“Do you know what it would do to me to see you walk around our home in this?"

“Have an idea" you smirk feeling him getting hard against your leg as your arms wrap around him. “Still can’t believe you called me a prostitute.”

“High. Class. Escort” he emphasizes each word between brief kisses against your lips. “And as long as you come home to me I don’t care what you wear out.”

He nudges his head toward the hotel “let’s go.”

“My feet" you whine. “With four kids I don’t wear heels a lot.”

He shakes his head at you pulling the kid card on him and bends down for you to climb on his back, but as you do your dress rides up even higher.

“Never mind I’m fine" you pull the fabric down and take a couple wobbly steps. The alcohol and heels not mixing well with your balance.

“Babe…what?” he stammers out unsure of what happened.

You walk over to him “my dress is too short and was beginning to ride up. People will see my ass” you whisper as he throws his head back laughing.

“Baggy jeans probably sounds pretty good right now" he begins to unbutton his shirt pulling it off his shoulders leaving him in a white t-shirt.

“Oh my god you actually wore it" you laugh seeing your face on his chest.

“One of us didn’t lie about what we’d wear out tonight" he pulls the shirt over your shoulders. It hangs from your frame, one of the few times being so much shorter is nice. The shirt ends a couple inches below your dress and when you climb onto his back it hangs low enough to keep you covered.

Wrapping your arms around his chest, your chin lands on his shoulder. “You smell good" you say lightly taking in his cologne that is masking the faint smell of sweat.

Your head turns towards his neck and he must feel your warm breath on it. He gives your thighs a tight squeeze mumbling a warning under his breath but you still place a few soft kisses on him.

“(Y/N)” he warns digging his fingers into the bottom of your thighs. “One more minute” but you suck even harder than before.

You notice the bright lights surround you, and realize you are in the hotel lobby but you continue to pepper kisses along his pulse point. The elevator dings open and once inside he almost drops you on the floor.

He quickly has you pinned against the wall, bringing a hand to the inside of your thigh, his thumb grazing over your underwear soaked with his cum. He reaches beside you to hit the button, his body still pressed firmly against yours.

“Fred" you groan. The elevator doors still wide open, anyone can step in and anyone walking by can see. And you are leaving very little to the imagination in your current position.

“I thought you wanted this" he bites your neck as the door begins to close. “Outside you didn’t care if people saw.”

The door finally closes and you feel it shift as you go up. You grip the railing behind you with 2 hands as he begins his assault on your neck. His thumb pushes the strap of your dress off your shoulder, your breast popping out.

“You really do look phenomenal in this” he brings his knee between your legs, pressing his thigh into your folds. You instinctively roll your hips against his denim clad thighs, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He watches you with a hardened jaw, eyes dark with lust as you grind down on him, leaving a wet trail over his jeans.

His mouth finds your breast as his hands grip your hips, helping to rock you on him. Your moans get louder, drowning out the music playing in the elevator. Before anything else the doors ding and open to the floor with his room.

He firmly grips your hand pulling you out and down the hall as you stumble and try to adjust yourself to cover up. Once in the door you kick your shoes aside dropping his shirt on the ground.

“Babe" you call turning to show him the zipper. He walks over and puts his mouth on your neck sucking gently while he fumbles with the zipper. Slowly he drags it down your body as his mustache tickles against your skin. Once the zipper is down you feel him grab either side of the dress and pull. The sound of fabric tearing fills the room as he his lips curl upwards against your skin.

“Frederik" you huff

“Elskede you know you can’t call me that” he reaches for your underwear tearing it off next, leaving you completely naked.

“Besides this way I don’t have to worry about you wearing that dress out in public again" your shredded underwear lands in the pile on the floor.

“I want to press you against that window and fuck you so bad” he growls as you look out at the Las Vegas sky line. “That way everybody who happens to see in will know your mine.”

You roll your hips backward pressing your ass into his denim. You groan slightly at his words secretly wishing he would. You want to feel the cool glass on your back as sweat drips down your front, his cock deep inside you.

“On the bed" he orders pulling his mouth away and stripping his t-shirt off. You turn around to face him, watching as he reaches for his belt. He begins to remove it before bringing his attention back to you “(Y/N)” he warns.

“Frederik” you tease grinning at him knowing exactly what you’re doing. Anytime you say those three syllables he immediately is in your ear muttering what he is going to do to you.

There is something about the way his full name falls from your lips that unleashes the monster deep inside him, making it a move you often reserve for special occasions.

He takes a step forward and brings a hand to your ass, giving it a hard smack. You grunt as the air leaves your lungs your skin stinging at the contact.

“On the bed, legs spread" he pinches your nipple. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

“Yes sir" you yelp and walk away not wanting to test your luck.

You hear him chuckle and fabric landing on the floor. His footsteps echo through the room, sending chills coursing down your spine. You look up and are met with his naked body towering over you. With a dry swallow you take in his chiseled torso following his muscles down to his throbbing tip; your pussy clenching at the sight.

His body is sweaty from carrying you home, shimmering in the lights coming through the windows. You sigh when you see his hard cock, mouth-watering wanting to wrap your lips around his swollen tip. Your legs squirm rubbing together, searching for friction while his cum has hardened on your inner thigh.

He drinks you in with a predatory look in his eyes. He brings his bottom lip between his teeth with a wicked grin enjoying the sight of you splayed on the bed waiting for him. He bends down and pulls you by the ankles causing you to squeal bringing you to the edge of the bed, your ass hanging off it.

“You never did listen well" he mumbles falling to his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Before you can respond he bites the inside of your thigh, his hands cupping your ass pulling it closer to him.

He continues to nip your thighs while squeezing your ass to roll your hips higher to his mouth. He slowly trails closer to your heated core while your moans get louder.

“Fred" you groan feeling his beard rub against your thigh, his nose pressing into your clit. His warm breath is on our folds sends a chorus of shivers down your spine.

“Please" you whine as he pulls your hips closer.

“So impatient” he mumbles flattening his tongue he licks a stripe up your entrance.

Your hips buck up and he pulls away. He brings his hands to your hips holding you in place. Your head falls back into the pillow while he brings his mouth to your entrance.

His mouth wraps around your pussy and his nose presses into your clit. He sucks hard, nails digging your hips pulling a loud distressed whimper from you. He flicks his tongue in and out a few times before pulling away and climbing over you.

His thumb grabs your jaw pulling your mouth open. Hovering over you he spits into your mouth a mixture of saliva along with both of your cum.

“We taste good eh baby?” he releases your jaw and you swallow staring up at him.

“So good” you groan as one of his long fingers trails over your body and approaches your core. His eyes are dark as he climbs back off the bed throwing your legs back over his shoulders. His fingers dance around your entrance drawing figure eight’s as your back arches in response. Finally he slips two thick fingers in your walls and begins to pump them in and out of you.

“Hear how wet you are” he groans at the sound of his cum acting as a lubricant for his work. Easily he sets a fast pace before his lips return to sucking on your clit. Your hands find his hair and tangle in to the roots. He continues to suck on your clit as he twists his fingers inside you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he continues working on you, drawing your high closer with each thrust of his fingers. You belly tightens as his fingers massage your walls, curling them upward in search of your g-spot.

Your breathing is erratic and your hips lift off the bed, heels digging into his back as he brings your high closer with every thrust.

“You close skat?” he hums against you.

“Ye….yes" you breathe out. “So close” when he instantly stops. His fingers pull out and his mouth is gone, you were on the edge of the cliff and instead of falling over everything disappeared. You lift up on your elbows to look at him “Fred" you groan.

A large smirk crosses his face before he drops your legs wrapping one around his waist. Without warning he slams his hard cock into your folds. Some of his cum from before spills out around his cock.

“Fuck" you groan as he doesn’t give you time to adjust before pulling back and slamming his throbbing cock back inside you. He sets a past pace and your eyes close as your second orgasm quickly approaches. His thumb presses into your clit as he pounds into you. Each frantic pound of his cock bringing you closer to your release.

“You look so good with my hard cock fucking in and out of you” he hisses pulling your other leg over his shoulder. You grip the sheet below you for stability with the change in angle.

“Just like that, take me deep" each word is accompanied by an intentionally harsh thrust as he pulls on your hips drawing you closer to him.

“Freddie. I’m gonna cum" you pant.

“Cum on my cock" he orders. “Come on (Y/N). Cum for me.”

You grip the bedsheets, knuckle going white and you feel your walls flutter drawing him in. He groans feeling you clench around him but doesn’t stop his pace. He is relentless in his movements, searching for your high. He leans closer, pressing your leg down as he slams into you at a feverish pace.

Your juices spill around his cock and he keeps going fucking you through your high. His name rolls of your tongue along with scattered curse words before you finally fall silent, eyes opening to see his dark with fire.

Quickly he pulls out flipping you over with ease. You land on your stomach and he manipulates you to your hands and knees. You stick your ass out for him barely able to support yourself. His hand quickly connects to your bare skin causing you to yell while your skin reddens.

“What were you thinking wearing that out?” his hand connects back to the same spot as before. A tear pricks your eye as you grunt knowing bruises will remain tomorrow.

His hand runs over your skin softly while he waits for a response. “I was going to sneak into your hotel room after my party. Let you see me in it" you explain. “I knew you’d love it…But instead I ran into you at the club.”

“Good thing too, about 6 different men were eye fucking you” he seethes from behind you. His hand connects one more time, this one much firmer than the others. It pulls your breath from you as wetness drips down your thighs. You fall forward onto the duvet and before you can pull yourself up his hard member is spreading your folds once again.

One hand finds your hip, another on your back holding you down to the bed as he begins to thrust in to you.

“You feel so fucking good" Fred groans from behind you.

“I was made for you” you reply as your face rubs against the bed. Sweat is in your hair and dripping down your face, your makeup likely falling victim to it.

“Yes you were" he grunts pulling you back so your ass hits his pelvis. “Fucking perfect.”

His hand leaves the small of your back and trails down to your ass. He slowly draws his index finger over the skin sending shivers through you.

His hand stops at your hole and begins to dance around the entrance as he pounds relentlessly in your cunt. You are an absolute mess under him, unable to stop the loud moans and curse words that are falling from your lips.

His finger continues to play with the skin around your hole.

“Daddy" you whine turning your head over your shoulder to look at him.

His eyes immediately snap up to yours with the unexpected name, his pupils are dark and a wide smirk spreads on his face. You call him daddy all the time with the kids, but this is different.

His pace slows slightly “yes” he replies with an eyebrow raised. “What would you like?”

“My…" he slams into you hard causing your breath to catch in your throat and you trail off. “Your fingers.”

He smiles at you bringing them off your skin and into your line of sight. You nod quickly and he pulls out replacing his cock with his two fingers, pumping them in and out of your throbbing cunt.

“This what you wanted?” he asks but you know he is playing dumb.

“No daddy" you choke out though it does feel good. “I want your cock back there.”

“What about these" he thrusts them quickly in and out of you. You pull your bottom lip through your teeth trying to keep your eye contact. “Where do you want these?”

“My ass" you finally manage to choke out.

He gives you a few more pumps before pulling them out and replacing them with his hard cock. Groaning loudly as he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move instead his fingers returning to your hole to tease the entrance.

“Daddy please" you whine.

“Because you asked so nicely" his hips resume their pace and your head falls back onto the bed. You feel warm spit land near your hole and he spreads it around before slowly sliding his two thick fingers in.

“Oh my god" you groan feeling them start to slowly move inside you.

You hear Danish begin to spill from his lips but you can’t focus on the words. From what you manage it’s mostly praises and he brings both of you towards your orgasms.

The feeling of being stretched in two places by him isn’t new to you, but it’s definitely not common. The two of you definitely dabbled in some stuff before, but it’s been a couple years since you’ve felt this way.

Every stroke if his cock nudges your cervix with alarming accuracy and his fingers increase their speed as well. You have never felt so full by him before as you cry out under him.

“Cum for daddy" he groans becoming erratic behind you.

“Daddy wants to feel you cum on his cock again" he adds. Unable to hold on you disintegrate underneath him. Your vision goes white as you feel warm liquid spill out round him.

A deep loud guttural moan leaves your lips as he works you through your high. Euphoria floods your veins as you clench on the sheets damp with sweat below you. When your orgasm stops you feel him pull out of both spots and with a few pumps of his hand he spills all over your ass and hole.

He falls onto the bed beside you and you carefully land on your stomach trying to not let any spill onto the duvet.

“Why did you" you start to say between your breaths. The feeling of his warmth inside you is one you’ve grown to love, yearn for over the past few years. Without it you almost feel empty.

“I need it for what I’m going to do next” he sends you a dark smile and kisses your sweaty forehead. Chills course through you as he grabs your hand and pushes it down his sweaty chest to his member.

Rolling onto his side he brings his fingers to your spine and begins slowly drawing circles on your sticky skin. Leaning in he brings his lips to yours, parting your lips with his tongue.

It starts soft almost hesitant until your hand begins to stroke up and down him. He applies more force his tongue sliding into your mouth. He still tastes of alcohol and a faint hint of you; your hand picking up its pace.

His fingers find your hole and begin to play with the cum he left behind. You gasp into the kiss as his fingers slide back inside and begin to pump inside your hole again.

You feel him growing hard under your grip and increase your pace. Mumbling a fuck against your lips his member is fully erect and he pulls away smirking at you.

He crawls out of bed, standing at the edge and pulls your hips closer to him. You rise onto your wobbly elbows and feel him poke at your entrance, though you doubt that’s where he is going.

Once you are situated, grinding back against him, his cock slides up from your folds towards your ass, coating it in a mixture of juices along the way. Finally he reaches your ass and his fingers leave you, his thick tip is pressing against it.

He collects some more cum from your ass, some has since fallen off your curved skin. He pushes it towards your hole and slowly presses in.

“Holy fuck" you groan as his thick head slides inside.

“You okay babe" he asks pushing in inch by inch.

“Perfect daddy" you groan as he continues to press in. Tears stain your cheeks as you grasp the duvet.

“Ugh" you grunt when his pelvis presses firmly against you, finally fully seated in you.

“That’s it, let me in princesse” he hums as you relax around him.

His thrusts are long and deep but also slow, not wanting to hurt you; giving you a chance to familiarize yourself to him there. After a few minutes you pull forward and press back on him. He grunts in response and snaps his hips to increase his pace.

“God I forgot how good this feels" his hands on your hips guiding you back onto him. His balls slap against you “you’re so fucking tight babe.”

Your breathing while it never fully recovered is erratic again. Your moans are whimpers, your body weak barely able to support itself. Every thrust hits you harder and deeper, driving you further into the bed. As he drives into your ass you feel each thrust deep in your overly sensitive core.

“Touch yourself” he orders.

“I can’t” you whine legs trembling under you. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls your body up, your back pressed against his sweaty chest. One hand curls around your throat, gripping it tightly. His other finds your nipple pinching it hard.

“Daddy said to touch yourself” he growls in your ear slamming his hard member into your ass.” So touch yourself.”

His hand on your throat tightens, leaving you with just enough air as you manage a slight nod. Slowly your hand slides down your body and connects to your overly sensitive bud.

As you begin to rub circles his hand on your throat loosens its grip. You feel some of his cum and begin to spread it around your entrance as you work on your clit.

“Good girl" he praises sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp loudly and continue pressing into your clit; drawing soft circles. His hand on your throat has returned to your hip but his other is still pinching and playing with your nipple.

“Slide your fingers in" his breath is hot on your neck. His mustache tickles you but you don’t dare laugh or disobey as two fingers slide inside leaving you whimpering loudly from the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl for daddy” he kisses your sweaty collarbone and releases your nipple pushing you forward.

Your face lands on the duvet and you continue to thrust your fingers in and out at a slow pace, unsure if you can handle anymore.

His hands grip your hips, digging in to your skin likely leaving bruises. He begins to almost completely pull out and slam into you causing you to whimper each time.

“Feels good" he groans as you feel him stutter behind you.

“So good" you pant breathlessly.

“You need to cum" he grunts your breath catching in your throat as you briefly look back at him. His red curls drenched in sweat framing his face.

“I’m not cumming until you do" he growls. He is fast and hard with every thrust, you don’t actually know if he can wait for you.

“Please daddy I can’t" you whine each thrust of your fingers has your walls twitching from the contact.

“You can or I will do it for you" he spits out slapping your ass once again. You know that the second option will come with a series of punishments.

He will likely end up with his head between your legs bringing you orgasm after orgasm from you. Your legs will be trembling and you won’t be able to take anymore but he won’t stop. It’s been a while but he has spent hours between your legs relishing in your whimpers. You almost couldn’t handle it then and you don’t know if you can tonight.

Your fingers press in harder scissoring you open as your thumb finds your swollen clit. Your fingers work inside your warm walls and he rails in you from behind you.

Your back arches further for him “I can’t daddy" you cry considering pulling your fingers out.

“You can and you will" he forcefully thrusts into your ass but you feel it in your slick heat that is ready to snap in two.

You know he won’t last much longer, and you begin to feel your orgasm sliding in a third finger. Your mouth opens in the shape of an O while a silent scream falls from your lips from being filled in every direction.

Finally your orgasm hits you, snapping like a bed spring. Your walls flutter around your fingers, warmth spilling down your wrist onto the bed. Your body tenses at the feeling of him hitting every nerve deep inside you.

As euphoria fills your veins Fred fills your ass. Your entire body seizes and your vision goes black. You feel warmth spill onto your ass as he pulls out. Your entire body falls onto the mattress your fingers still buried deep inside.

Your eyes flutter closed and the bed shifts as he falls beside you. Your body is limp as he pulls you onto his bicep brushing some hair from your sweaty face.

“Hey” he smiles. Your eyes slowly open and are met with his golden brown ones inches away “wondering when you’d come back.”

You groan slightly noticing your fingers are still inside your walls. You shift your weight and slowly pull them out, involuntarily whimpering your pussy still hot to the touch. He presses his lips to your forehead and you drift off.

You don’t know how long it’s been but you can hear Fred whispering as his finger ghosts over your skin, mouth pressed against your sweaty forehead.

“How long was I–“ you trail off unable to muster the strength to open your eyes.

“A half hour or so.”

“I love you baby" you mumble your eyes still closed.

“Love you too" he runs his finger up and down your spine. “Let’s go shower.”

You groan not moving. Your body is covered in sweat, cum dripping out of your ass and down to the bed. You want to shower, need to but your body won’t cooperate.

“I got you" he hums in your ear carrying you to the bathroom setting you on the cool tile bench in the stand-up shower. He turns the water on stepping under the stream while your head leans against the marble wall catching your breath.

“You okay pretty girl?” Fred bends down in front of you having completed his shower while you watched frozen to the bench. Beads of water drip down his chest as he lightly grips your thighs.

“Mhm just enjoying the view" you sigh as he grins at you. “But I’m not sure if my legs work, still a little sore.”

“That’s a shame babe" his large hands firmly squeeze your thigh and he spreads them open slightly. His thumb grazes against your clit causing you to whine.

“You told Mitch we have a large shower" his index finger strokes over your swollen heat. “I was really hoping to use it" you winks at you.

“Tomorrow” you whimper while his nails dig into your flesh.

“I have other plans for tomorrow” he kisses the underside of your jaw lightly.

“I can’t stand" you groan as he plays with your folds.

“S’okay" he smiles “I can.”

He wraps your legs around his back and throws your arms around his neck.

“How are you still going?” you almost laugh.

“One your super-hot” he winks standing up. “Two there is many times I just want to bend you over the kitchen counter or tie you to the bed pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.”

You feel yourself dampen at his words causing you to shudder at the feeling. “But we have four kids so I’m lucky to get a quickey in because we don’t have time and are too tired. Guess you can say I have some built up sexual energy” he chuckles amusement thick in his tone.

“And three" he grips the back of your thighs “you know when I have the perfect amount of drinks I can just keep going.”

Your hands tangle into his hair while he presses you against the cold and wet tile “so I would say tonight I can take advantage of all three.”

“I don’t” you mumble out feeling him poke at your entrance. “I don’t think I can” you whine helplessly.

His mouth finds your neck sucking into your skin while he slowly pulls you down onto him “I know you got a little left baby.” One second you are empty the next you are completely full of his cock.

“Umph" is about all you manage through the familiar stretch.

“You’re okay baby" he smiles “I got you.”

Once he is fully settled inside you he stills and you whimper. You pull your lower lip through your teeth and he watches your face.

“I’m okay” you say after a few minutes bringing a large grin to his face.

“You sure baby?” he asks softly. You can tell this will be different than the others, softer and slower.

“Yeah” you whisper.

Fred immediately thrusts up pulling some curse words from you. Your nails dog into the back of his neck while his dig into your hips.

He begins pulling back and slowly pressing back is as his lips connect to yours. He swallows your moans in a passionate kiss.

It takes just a few thrusts before your over stimulated cunt begins to tremble again, you know it won’t take much more for what you know will be an earth shattering orgasm washes over you.

“Still good" he asks pulling away to capture his breath.

You open your mouth but no sound comes out, just nodding instead but he wasn’t waiting for a response. His eyes no longer full of fire instead passion and adornment.

Fred uses his strength to pin you to the wall. His head lands on your shoulder and he firmly grips the back of your thighs, you know he isn’t going to stop until he fills your sopping pussy with his sticky seed. Your vision goes black and your nails dig into his shoulder and he curses in response.

“I love you baby” he mumbles to the crook of your neck and you can only whimper in response.

Next Chapter

#fredzilla #frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen x reader #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl x reader #NHL Smut

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tosikoarts · 3 years

Text

Modern AU HC [ Toni Anji ]

Hey, hon! Sorry if these are kinda short, didn’t want to leave you hanging since I won’t have a chance to write for the next week or so. Feel free to ask for more! Hope you like it ♡ You can check tosikowrites tag for more.

So, Toni Anji. I won’t bend canon too much, so, let’s say, he still worked in the now-abandoned Matsuo sulfur mine up until its closure in 1979. This event forced him to look for new ways to make money and with a little hesitation, he decided to try out being a massage therapist, soon enough becoming famous for specializing in seitai and aromatherapy. The place where he works is far from popular, it’s a comparably small family business that cannot compete with the top spa in the area but it is nice nevertheless. Due to the light workload, Toni always has a moment to flop on the bench and run his fingers through the lines of raised dots. Nothing bothers him there apart from one single warbler and rustle of foliage. His fingertips carry the smell of peach kernel oil throughout the day.

Being discreet, skilled at his job, and, most importantly, judicious made Toni popular among people who have things to hide. Yes, yes, you could already guess what I'm talking about the yakuza and their associates. Not once, nor twice, Toni was an unwitting listener to Usami’s boasting even though he knows nothing about the young man but his honeyed voice. Nikaidou is another of his regular customers. Conversations with him are much more restrained and mysterious leaving Toni wondering about mister x, y, z, how they are connected, and if he will ever hear about them again. Thankfully, he is almost one hundred percent sure nobody is going to put a bullet in his head for scanty crumbs of information low ranks have been feeding him.

There is so much more to his life outside the massage room too. Leaving the spa, he looks like a local hard worker living from shift to shift in a cardboard box on the outskirts, it’s just a vibe coming from his shabby jacket and unironed shirt underneath. However, Toni heads to the golf practice as a part of the Japanese Blind Golf Association (yes, he does it for the sake of irony, no, he attends games just to remind everybody he is still here) and later on a couple of oldies wait for him to grab a beer with spicy yakitori. Among others, there are both Hijikata and Nagakura who order sake instead of beer because who in the world needs knee joints that do not creek like an old attic board? Exactly. Toni always has a spare pack of allopurinol tucked away at home.

Speaking of which, his apartment is tiny. When I say tiny, I mean it. One room where if you get up from the bed you automatically enter the kitchen or bump your forehead on the bathroom door. From the outside, it seems that those few things that Toni owns are just scattered around the room but he actually remembers where each speck of dust lies. Corners where the dust is wiped off or its layer is thinner are meant for the book collection: he is keen on Japanese classics like Dazai Osamu, Yokomizo Seishi, Abe Kobo, etc.

And for the last random headcanon, Kadokura almost hit Toni with his car although if he did his card would probably fold like an accordion of Toni’s arm outstretched. Kadokura even tried to persuade Toni to go to the hospital to see his physician cough Ienaga cough but after realizing this old man could probably strangle him with his bare hands, bury him without a shovel, and run a marathon afterward, Kadokura hastily retreated. He left a business card just in case. Does he really answer calls from unknown numbers tho? No. Just no.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #toni anji #tosikowrites

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Note

So since you did the cutest job with my mini golf ask…wondering what the TF boys would be like while tie dying with Frankie and his daughter?! I’m attempting to do that tomorrow with my son lol. Please and thank you if you’d like to explore the idea. 🥰😘

First of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long, I've been so busy with uni and forcing myself to actually do the work this semester (who would've thought I could actually apply myself) but I really enjoyed this, and it's actually made me want to go out and do some tie-dying of my own.

Anyways, here's Tie-Dye Tueaday

W/C: 1.6k

T-Minus 5 Hours Until Disaster

“Daddy?” a soft voice rose Frankie out of his fitful sleep. He distantly felt a tiny, warm hand rest on his cheek.

“Yes, cricket?” he mumbled voice heavy with sleep, struggling to open his heavy eyes. He had stayed up until the small hours of the morning frantically researching for the day, watching YouTube videos, making notes, doing whatever he could to prepare.

“Mommy’s going and said I should wake you up,” Everly pulled herself up onto the bed and sat down directly on Frankie’s bladder. He winced and pushed her off gently, wondering just how she always managed to find the worst spot to sit.

“Have you had breakfast?” Frankie asked, and Everly nodded. He said a silent thanks to his ever-amazing wife, who would be spending the day getting massages and facials and whatever else her heart desired before pushing out twins in less than two months’ time. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that – there would be two more tiny humans in his life soon. The thought left him exhilarated and riddled with anxiety all at once.

Frankie carried Everly downstairs on his back, grabbing his cap from the dresser on his way. The boys would be here soon – they had agreed that tie dying alone with a hyper four year old was a terrible idea, so they were coming to dye something of their own and help Frankie keep a handle on things. Benny was especially excited to dye his shorts to wear to his next fight.

They were halfway through Coco, Everly’s favourite movie, when the front door opened and in came his three best friends, men he had no relation to but considered brothers. Everly went straight to Benny, who was undoubtedly her favourite of them. Frankie had his suspicion that is was because Benny loaded her up on sugar whenever he could. Sure enough, Frankie could see a packet of candy in the plastic bag Benny carried.

“You ready for this?” Will asked, placing a six pack in the fridge. Frankie sighed and nodded.

“Ready as I can be. It can’t go too badly, right?”

T-Minus 3 Hours Until Disaster

The sun was bright and hot on their backs as they set up. Everly sat in the shade of the oak tree, a cup of lemonade in one hand, and her favourite doll in the other. Frankie had forbidden her from coming out in the sun until the sunscreen was fully absorbed, which according to his watch wouldn’t be for another few minutes. It occurred to him that since becoming a father, his mind was filled with worries that he never even considered beforehand.

Frankie had brought dyes in every colour he could, several plastic tubs had been fished out of storage and so many ties that he was sure he would be finding them all around the yard for weeks to come.

“Whatta ya dying, Ev?” Santi called to Everly.

“Purple!” She responded, holding up a pristine white pair of cotton shorts and a shirt.

“Just purple?” Will asked.

“And pink and blue and green!” Everly jumped up, setting her cup down carefully and ran over. “I want it swirly. You should be rainbow wiggles.” She told her father seriously. Will grinned.

“She’s a natural born leader,” he said with more than a touch of pride.

“Just like her mother,” Frankie replied. He took the clothes that Everly held out and began to scrunch and fold them according to the instructions he had written down while watching YouTube last night. The whole thing seemed a lot easier when he was watching through a screen.

Everly chose her dyes as Frankie folded, occasionally handing a certain colour to one of the boys, telling them that they hadto use it. None of them wanted to defy the four year old, so each accepted his colours without protest. Benny seemed quite thrilled when he was given a colour labelled Hot Barbie Pink.

“So many guys will be so fuckin’ embarrassed to get their ass beat by a guy in pink shorts,” Benny grinned.

“Language, Ben!” Frankie darted a frantic look towards Everly, who stood with a cunning smile on her face. Frankie knew that she knew exactly what she wasn’t supposed to say.

“Fuck! Ass!” she declared. Will snorted and Santi had to turn away, face turning bright red from holding in laughter.

Frankie gaped, lost for words for a moment. “Everly, don’t ever say that, but especially the first one, and especially not in front of mommy, okay?”

“Why not?”

Frankie shot a look to Benny, who at least looked a tiny bit sorry. “They’re big people words. Each time you say one your . . . hair gets less curly.”

Everly, who loved her curly hair, looked stricken. Frankie felt bad about lying to his kid, but not as bad as he would’ve felt if his wife came home to a child cussing like she had just strolled out of the military.

The words seemed forgotten as the dye was applied. Everly was surprisingly artful in the way she applied the dye, carefully creating patterns that didn’t make much sense to Frankie but must have made sense to her.

T-Minus 30 Minutes Until Disaster

The group of them sat around the dining room table, beers for the boys and juice for Everly. Most of them had small flecks of multi-coloured dye on their hands, but Frankie was sure they would come off easity. Everly had scoffed down her lunch, and now sat staring outside, looking antsy.

“Go play if you want to,” Frankie said, “you don’t have to sit here.” Frankie was confident there wasn’t anything in the backyard that could pose a danger to her, and besides, he had a view of almost the whole yard from the table.

Everly tore off like a hurricane, juice forgotten as she ran outside, doll in hand.

“If the twins are anything like her . . .” Santi began, taking a sip of his drink. “Fish, you’re gonna have your hands full.”

“If they’re anything like Ev, they’ll be great kids,” Benny said. Will rose his beer bottle. ‘But yeah, you’re definitely gonna have your hands full.”

“Amen, I’ll drink to that,” he said. Frankie nodded and had a sip himself. They talked for a while about football, Benny’s next fight, Santi’s new flame.

Then a thought occurred to Frankie.

“Is it quiet out there?” he craned his neck to investigate the yard and saw . . . nothing. Frankie shot up from his seat, panic rising in his chest. “Everly?” He almost tripped over himself in his haste to get to the backyard. Every worst case scenario was forming in his head.

“Ev?” Benny was beside him in an instant.

“Daddy?” Everly wandered out from behind the tree, and Frankie took a deep breath, calming himself. She was unscathed . . . except for the dye that now stained her arms, legs, face, hair. She was grinning widely, and held up her doll, who was also covered in a rainbow of dye.

“Cricket, what did you do?” Frankie gaped, wondering just how she managed to get almost every inch of exposed skin in such a short amount of time.

“Miss Mildew wanted her hair to be pretty,” Everly explained.

“Your dolls name is Miss Mildew?” Santi asked, red in the face with held back laughter. Everly nodded proudly. She had heard the word on television one night and latched onto it.

“What do you think is worse,” Will murmured to Benny, “Ev swearing, or Ev covered in dye?”

“Swearing,” Benny said snickering, “you can wash out the dye, you can’t unlearn a word.”

“What word?” Everly asked. Ears of a hawk, Frankie thought.

“The word you’re not allowed to say,” Will said.

“And what word would that be?” A smooth voice behind them almost made Frankie jump out of his skin. His wife, beautiful and terrifying all at once, stood on the patio, one hand on her stomach, the other on her hip.

“Fuck!” Everly declared loudly and proudly.

“Teaching my child new words, I see, Benjamin.”

Benny to his credit, at least looked more apologetic than he did with Frankie.

Frankie’s wife waddled down into the yard and set her gaze on her husband. “That dye won’t make her sick will it?”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. He had specifically brought kid friendly, skin safe, non-toxic dye.

“Good. Then I’m gonna go lie down and try and forget my four-year-old just said the eff-word and is every colour under the sun.” His wife shook her head and rolled her eyes at Benny. Once she was inside, Frankie turned to Everly.

“C’mon, we gotta clean you up,” he reached to pick Everly up who shook her head.

“We gotta see what they look like first!” she said. Frankie considered her point and nodded.

“Alright, cricket,” he said. They unravelled the clothes to a chorus of oohs and aahs, Everly clapped her green hands together as her multi-coloured shorts and top were revealed.

Benny sheepishly wandered over to Frankie as he put everything in the washing machine. “Hey man, I really am sorry about that.”

Frankie shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just buy the missus as much caffeine as she wants when she’s done breastfeeding and she’ll forget all about it.”

“I hope so. Her bad side is not a place I wanna be.”

Frankie laughed and scooped up Everly in his arms. Her curls were streaked with blue and her cheeks were magenta. “Trust me, she won’t stay mad for long. I don’t think she’s that mad to be honest.”

“You don’t?” Benny sounded unsure.

“Well she didn’t yell, and it looked like she was trying not to laugh. All things considered, I think today was a success story.”

Tagging @sharkbait77 because I think you’d enjoy this

#i love it when kids swear #frankie fix #frankie fic #triple frontier

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amandawritez · 4 years

Text

cheater

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Word count: 1669

Warnings: underage drinking, smoking, cursing, and slight smut

Summary: When you meet a cute blonde boy at a party you decide to do something kind of crazy

JJ didn't like kooks, never has and never will, so when Sarah dragged him and the rest of the group to kook party he was beyond unhappy. She swore that the party host was a cool guy, he didn’t care about pouge vs kook drama and said if anyone wanted to have fun they could come.

JJ lost everyone within minutes of getting to the house, Sarah dragged John B away to talk to some of her nicer old friends; Pope found some tourist girl to talk about who knows what, probably his morbid future of being a corner; and Kie wondered off to find beer. Leaving JJ alone and annoyed surrounded by people he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t like.

He wondered around the house for a while hoping to find a familiar face and ended up on the third floor balcony, which was mostly empty other than a few people scattered about drinking and talking. He spotted a table with a few chairs around it that were empty and decided to sit down and roll a blunt, figured smoking might make this night less miserable.

JJ was attempting, more like struggling, to roll up his weed into the blunt. He didn’t know why it was so hard for him because he was used to doing this almost daily. He released a frustrated groan and set it down on the table.

You were talking with your friends when you noticed the blonde boy sitting alone and getting frustrated so you walked up to see if he wanted help. “Hey, do you want some help with that?” you asked politely. His head whipped around and looked at you. “No thanks kook I can handle this all on my own.” and he turned back around. You rolled your eyes at the kook comment but decided to let it go. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind and you look like you’re struggling.” you stated as you walked around the table and stood behind the chair directly in-front of him. You held back a giggle looking at how focused he was until he sighed and set it down again. “Fine you can help me.”

He handed you the blunt and watched as you perfectly packed it and licked the edge to roll it up. He was kinda mind-blown at how easily you did it, and honestly he thought it was kind of hot. As you were handing it back to him Sarah walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I see you’ve met (y/n)” he looked up at her and gave a confused look, as if asking if he was supposed to know who you were. “JJ I told you this, her brother is the one throwing the party.” He nodded and his mouth formed an O shape as he put two and two together, but he still didn’t really care.

Sarah rolled her eyes and waved goodbye as she said something about going to find John B. You watched the boy pull out a lighter and begin smoking. He pulled a few hits before holding it out to you as an offering, “You want some? You did help me so I guess I’ll share.” He half expected you to say no, but you lightly took it out of his hands. “I'm JJ.” he stated as he watched you smoke. “I’m (y/n)” you said as you handed him back the weed.

You guys sat silently for a while while JJ finished the rest of the blunt and you thought about getting up to walk away until JJ began to speak, “Where did you learn to do that? Most kook girls I known don't smoke and definitely don’t know how to do that.” You glanced at him and for the first time really took in his features, he was cute, really cute. “My brother likes to smoke and so do his friends, they were always hanging around and just decided to teach me. I have small hands so I guess it makes it easier.” you said.

You JJ sat there for a while talking about random stuff as the party began to die down slightly. As JJ spoke you found yourself staring at his lips, then his eyes, then his arms, noticing how muscular they were. Maybe it was because you were high, or drunk, or honestly both but you started to notice how attractive his was. He used is hands when he talked and you watched his fingers imagining them in other places. JJ noticed you staring and stopped talking for a moment.

“Sorry uh do you um want a drink?” you asked him. He snickered lightly seeing how shook up you were, he knew you were definitely not thinking about drinks right now but he decided to play along. “Yeah sure I’d love one princess.” he joked using the pet name but when you heard him say you shuttered thinking about him calling you princess while he fu- “You gonna show me where they are?” he asked shaking you from your thoughts. You got up and motioned for him follow you inside. Once inside you lead him through the living room and down the hall, right past the kitchen JJ noticed.

You opened the door to a room which was extremely dark inside but JJ followed you in anyways. “Hey I know I’m not exactly a genius but I think that kitchen was that way princess-” you cut off the rest of his sentence by smashing your lips onto his. He was stunned for a second but then began to kiss back.

The kiss was heated and fast and he began to walk to you backwards until your back was against the door. He placed one hand behind your neck and the other on your hip lightly pulling you into him as you feverishly made out. JJ pushed his leg between yours and pulled your hips forward to grind lightly on his thigh emitting a moan from you. You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt and began tugging signaling you wanted it off. In the dimly lit room you could see his toned chest and stomach and you were in awe, he was sexy.

JJ stepped forward and followed in suit pulling your shirt over your head and kissing you again. He began kissing down your neck and sucking lightly as his hand slipped between your legs and under your skirt rubbing over your clothed center. “Damn, you're soaked already.” he spoke as he pulled your underwear slightly to the side and ran a finger through your dripping folds. You moaned lightly as he pushed a his middle finger into you and began curling it. Your head fell backwards on the door as JJ kissed down your neck and chest and pushed another finger into you. As his pace increased you couldn’t stop the moans coming from your lips and the wet sound coming from your pussy. JJ was in awe watching your eyes roll back and your legs tremble slightly as he fingered you.

You were both knocked out of your trance as a knock was heard on the door behind you. You both froze and listened as a male voice spoke from the other side. “(y/n) are you in there?” You quickly pushed jj off of you and began scrambling. “Shit, get in the closet, get in there now.” you whispered as you pushed JJ towards the closet picking up his t-shirt along the way. He was beyond confused as you shoved him into the closet tossing his t-shirt into his hands and shut the door. You walked to the door and picked your t-shirt up quickly pulling it on before opening the door.

JJ watched through the crack as guy stepped into the room, he looked like a major kook douchebag wearing a polo khakis, “Jesus is this a party or are we playing fucking golf?” JJ thought to himself. He listened as you spoke to the guy. “Hey Andrew I was looking for you earlier.” you said as you ran one of your hands through your hair. “Oh come on cut the bullshit (y/n) where have you been I've been looking for you for like an hour. Someone said they saw you hanging out with some pouge what the fuck is that about?” he asked angrily. “Don’t be so dramatic I was just meeting some of Sarah’s friends.” you stated calmly. “Oh of course it was sarah’s friends that bitch is practically a pouge now I don't even know why she's here.” now JJ really didn’t like this guy. Andrew stared at you and thought for a second before grabbing your chin and pulling your face close, “Wait second are you high? Did you get fucking high with those guys? Do you know how trashy that is.” he asked angrily. “No Jesus Andrew I’m not high, even if I was you're not my dad okay, you're my boyfriend quit acting like you own me.” JJ froze in the closet, thinking about how he almost just fucked a girl with a boyfriend. He was mostly confused because you made the first move, what the fuck was going on.

JJ watched as you finished up your conversation with the guy and told him you’d be out there in a few minutes and he saw him kiss you before he walked out making his stomach twist and his head get hot with jealousy. You walked up and opened the closet door to see a now clothed JJ with a very confused look on his face.

“You have a fucking boyfriend?” he whispered more confused than ever, why did you come onto him first, why did you let him do that, and why did still think it was hot as fuck.

“Well I um, I can explain..” you said, and JJ stared at you with a bewildered look on his face waiting to hear what explanation you were going to come up with.

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

A/N: ok so this is my first time writing in literally so long so if you like it lmk or give it a like. Also I left it kind of opened ended and I have ideas for a part 2 so if you like and want a part two lmk. Also my requests are open so send me requests :)

#jj maybank #obx jj #jj obx #outer banks imagine #obx #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #jj maybank imagine #jj #outer banks

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maisondenachtai · 4 years

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Boss. (Y’lan Noel x Reader)

Pairing: Boss!Y’lan x Reader Summary: Tensions flare when there’s a change of command.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading and make sure to do my taglist survey so I can add you to the gang! I added Trevante and Y’lan to my list. Join The Taglist Here!

(if you have already filled it out once and don’t want to fill it out again, just im me! i’ll update the spreadsheet myself!)

You hated him. Sitting over there, across the way from you being…kind and considerate, thinking of others in the room, listening to ideas and taking them down as if he really cared. Smiling.

What kind of boss smiled like that?

“And I just want to know what has been working here and what hasn’t. Uh, I’m not familiar with Fashion but I ran Esquire well for 5 years and when Jimmy told me that Black Style was not doing good, I jumped at the chance to right the ship. My mother, may she rest in peace, loved Black Style Magazine.” He placed an open palm on his chest, right where there was a sliver of dark skin peeking out of his white Cuban collar shirt. You tried hard not to roll your eyes too hard at his ploy at gaining sympathy.

“Aww.”

You sighed inwardly, of course your idiot co-workers would eat it up.

“Mrs. Y/Ln.” He placed his eyes on you, sitting forward in his chair steepling his hands. “You worked close with the old editor. Is there anything that you ever wanted to do or something that she did that maybe you didn’t agree with?”

You sat forward recognizing his posture and question for what it was, a power play. “Mr. Noel. I hope I am not out of line when I say that I have great respect for Courtney Barnes, the old editor you speak of, and while everything she may have done for the magazine might not have been the best, I am not in the mood to speak Ill of a former colleague and friend.” You placed your hands on the table, and kept your posture open, face trained into non-chalaunce.

Y’Lan Noel made a small noise, almost like a laugh and sat up nodding. He smiled, all of his pretty white teeth, straight and aligned like chiclets but in the best way. He was still nodding when he stood up going to the board where he had written out words like ‘modern, style, beauty, timeless’ and picked up the marker.

It was disconcerting how silent it was when he wrote out the word loyalty in big red letters and then placed his hands in his relaxed trousers, and stared at the word. You didn’t bother looking at your colleagues that were giving you the look that said that you probably needed to pack up your desk. You adjusted in your chair, switching your legs over just to cross them again and watched him.

“Loyalty. I’ve always liked that word.” He started, quietly. “Loyalty is a great trait to have. Our readers are loyal to us, and we have to be loyal to our readers. I understand that many of you were and still are loyal to Courtney, and I understand why. She’s a great woman, she actually gave me one of my first starts. I am not asking you to lose your fidelity to her, only allow me to earn your trust and loyalty as well.” He turned and with an open posture, his hands out of his pockets, giving a sweeping look to everyone in the room. “I want Black Style to be everything it has been and more, and with your help we can do this.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then one person clapped, and then another, and soon you all were up on your feet, you giving him a silent golf clap while keeping your face neutral.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Y’lan commented over and over as people being filing out of the conference room, you were one of the last people to have to pass him.

“Oh, Ms. YLN, please stay and chat with me, I just have a few things to discuss with you.” He was smiling but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. You adjusted your shoulder bag, awkwardly hanging back as the last few people filed out, trying hard not to look at you.

When everyone was gone, he closed the door and pressed a button on the wall that made the glass frosted, which made you more antsy. He left you standing near the door, moving to the table where there were waters and assorted snacks sitting out.

“Water? Fruit snacks?” He said, picking up a cookie with a napkin and placing it on a small white plate.

“Uh, no. I’m okay.” It was funny. Any and all bass that might have been in your voice earlier was gone, what was left was your normal voice, quietened by confusion and slight paranoia.

“Sure? I know the meeting ran long. I’m giving you all an extra 30 for lunch.” He turned around and leaned against the buffet table. He grinned and bit into his cookie, “Sit. This won’t take long.”

You pulled out a chair on the other side of the table, putting a whole table and a row of chairs between you. “What’s this about?”

He put the plate down and brushed off his hands. “This is about me and you.”

You sat back in your chair looking at him with even more confusion. You and him, there wasn’t any you and him. You didn’t even know the man past what his email was and how he liked to be called Y’lan. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up from his position on the buffet table and crossed over slowly to the table, sitting down in front of you. He kept your eye contact when he said, “You don’t like me do you?”

Your eyes were burning with trying not to blink, “That’s not a fair question. I don’t know you.”

He smiled and placed his mouth in the crook of his index finger and thumb, “Usually a person can tell in the first 5 minutes of meeting someone whether or not they would want to be around them, romantically, sexually, or professionally. What did you think about me?”

You tapped your fingers on the table, looking at him for a moment and wondering if being honest would lose you your job. “Can I speak candidly?”

He sat back, grinning. “Of course.”

You sighed leaning forward a little, “I thought you were a man who got the job because you were a man, not because you were qualified. Courtney had been grooming me for the job since she announced that she was retiring and you walk in with your nice flowery words, handsome face, and beautiful smile and now your editor in chief and I’m still just a stupid Head of.” Your words had become fast at the end and now you were panting, a little angry at yourself for spilling so much of your feelings to your new boss.

Y’lan looked taken back, but he quickly masked any surprise with a nod and a smile, “To be honest, I figured they would give the job to you too.”

You sighed, feeling a little calmer at his admission and acceptance of your angry rant. “Well –

“But, let’s get facts straight Mrs. YLN, I am qualified. Esquire has been the number 1 selling men’s magazine for the 5 years I have been running it. And while I’m not well versed in women’s magazines, I know at the bottom line this business is about selling.”

“It’s not just about selling, yeah that’s a big part of it, but it’s also about giving a quality magazine and making sure we don’t alienate our readers with huge changes.”

Y’lan leaned forward, eyes impassioned. “Okay, like what?”

“Like- “You stopped yourself sitting back in your chair, folding your arms. “You’re the editor, you figure it out.”

Y’lan sighed then, raking those thick fingers over his face as if this conversation was stressing him out. You smirked to yourself, happy that he was seeing that you weren’t going to fall in line.

“Mrs. Y/LN, I don’t want there to be a struggle between you and –“

“Well I want your job.” You admitted, your hands on the table now, folded together with a victorious smile on your face. “So obviously we don’t always get what we want.”

Y’lan stood up then, leaning forward across the table, one finger pressing down on the wood. It made you focus on him, and really focus on what your body had already noticed moments earlier. Y’lan was uncomfortably sexy. You gulped as you noticed the vein in his neck ticking, noticing his adam apple bob in the silence of your stare off.

“…So take it.” He finally said, quietly, eyes not leaving yours.

“Excuse me?” You sat up, uncomfortable with what had come to your mind when he said that. You shouldn’t be thinking of your boss that way.

“1 Month, we’ll do two issues. Your way and my way. If the higher ups like your magazine, I’ll resign and recommend you for my job. If the higher ups like my magazine, you submit to me and respect me as your boss.”

You gulped at the word submit, something in the way he said it with a glance down your body before finding your eyes again made you tremble. “…Fine.”

“Deal then?” He raised his hands, across the table. He smiled.

You gripped it, shaking hard meeting his eyes with a determined stare.

“Deal.”

(Hey! Yes, this is going to be two or three parts. Yes, I know but I’ve been sitting on this for a while and I want to write outside of who I’ve been writing for.)

taglist: @chaneajoyyy @wawakanda-btch @blackmissfrizzle @quietpoeticheart @bigsisbria

#y'lan noel #y'lan noel x reader #y'lan noel x black reader #y'lan noel fanfic

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jimmydemaret · 4 years

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custompatchesonline · 4 years

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 years

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Secret Santa

Summary: The reader is participating in the SPN cast & crew Secret Santa exchange for the first time when she ends up drawing Jensen’s name...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Written for a friend :) Enjoy!...

You yawned as you rested your head in your hand, watching the camera reset back into position, Jensen smiling from the other side of the table in the bunker set.

“What are you looking at goof?” you asked, smiling back at him.

“Uh, it’s the first day back from Thanksgiving break,” he said, still wearing that big charming smile.

“Yes, because we’re all overjoyed to be working a 12 hour day after having the past week off,” you teased.

“Oh, I forgot. You’re a rookie,” he teased right back.

“Rookie mistake?” asked your A camera operator.

“Rookie mistake,” said Jensen with a tsk.

“Rookie mistake, Y/L/N? I thought we knew you better than that by now,” said your B camera operator before the small crew in the bunker library was all sharing giggles.

“I hate working with all of you,” you said, biting your bottom lip when they started to laugh. “Come on, one more take and we all get to go home.”

“Rookie mistake,” said the boom guy, your jaw dropping.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Even I know-” said Alex before Jensen held up a hand.

“Ah, ah. Don’t be spoiling nothing for the rookie, pup,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was rookie last year,” said Alex. “Also, I am so calling you old man from now on.”

“Old man can kick your ass, pup,” said Jensen. Alex opened his mouth but realized Jensen probably very well could. “Besides, let’s not ruin the surprise, hm?”

“You are such a tease. Every last one of you,” you said, pointing at them all.

“Duh. You knew what you signed up for in the spring,” said Jensen, getting a waving finger. “Yeah, yeah. Come on rookie and pup, let’s finish this up so we can get to the good stuff.”

You heard a knock at your trailer door as you finished packing up your bag to go home, slinging it over your shoulders before you pulled the door open.

“Hi,” said Jensen, standing there with a tired but friendly smile. “Heading home?”

“After the staff meeting. I don’t feel like we’ve ever gotten one at the end of a day. Is this normal?” you asked, grabbing your phone and car keys, locking up your trailer after yourself.

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s a fun thing we do for the holidays around here is all,” he said. “I...the rookie thing wasn’t bothering you today, was it? I know we can take that stuff a bit far sometimes.”

“No,” you said, bumping his shoulder, giving him a smile. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Tired? We just had a week off,” he said, adjusting his own backpack as you walked.

“My break wasn’t awesome. You know how family can be,” you said.

“Not particularly. My family’s always gotten along, even if we all are a bit weird and dorky,” he said. “I realize why you sounded so off in our phone calls now though.”

“I traveled all the way to Maine to deal with...sorry. We’re going to do something fun you said?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “Rookie.”

“Okay, this is technically my second season on the show so-”

“Technically it’s your first full season on the show. Guest starring end of last season don’t count. Rookie,” he teased.

“You’ll pay for that, Ackles,” you said, booping him on the nose.

“Oh will I, Y/L/N?” he said, moving his arm around to pull you in front of him, starting to give you a noogie.

“Jensen. Jensen Ross Ackles! You are at your place of work, young man!” you said, Jared snorting as you watched him walk past.

“This is the most professional he’s ever acted,” said Jared, squishing your cheeks together before he headed towards set, Jensen chuckling as he helped get most of your hair out of your face.

“Boys,” you said, grabbing Jensen’s arm when he almost tripped over a set of cables running on the ground. “Careful, Jay. It’s your turn to buy dinner.”

“Ah, I see why you keep me around,” he said, righting himself, walking a little more slowly across the lot over to the bunker set. You yawned and rocked back on your heels, ready for some dinner in Jensen’s apartment and followed by a hot soaking bath in your own before bed.

A good chunk of the cast and crew was there, everyone lining up and jotting something down on slips of paper before they tossed them in a big basket.

“Write your name down,” said Jensen when you got up there. You did as told, placing it in the basket and moving aside, the line finishing up quickly after you. Someone turned a big handle on the basket and the paper jumbled together, mixing it all up.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. The 2018 Supernatural Secret Santa has the same rules as last year. $25 dollar limit. Only one secret santa per person. Gift exchange will take place on the last day of filming this year, right before the winter break. Any questions, please contact Nina, one of our lovely costume designers or myself as we are heading up the exchange this year. Does anyone have any questions?” asked Chad. “No? Alright. Step up and pick a name. If you draw your own name, stick it back in and draw again. Alright let’s go. I got a Buffalo Bills game to get home to.”

“He’s a fan of the Bills?” you whispered to Jensen. “Seriously?”

“Take pity on him. He’s Canadian,” whispered Jensen. It took a minute to get the line going again but once it was, people were out of there, saying goodnight to each other once they got their names.

Jensen shoved his hand inside and quickly glanced at the paper he’d grabbed before shoving it in his pocket. He stepped out of the way, waiting for you. You were glad you were tired because you were pretty sure your face would have shown who you’d gotten.

Jensen Ackles

You folded the paper up and put it in your jeans, Jensen smiling when you caught up with him.

“Get someone good?” he asked. You whipped your head up, giving him a smile.

“Mhm,” you said. “You?”

“Yup,” he said, stealing your car keys out of your hand. “I drive, you run in and pick it up on the way home?”

“Did you order yet?” you asked.

“Just did,” he said, twirling your keys around. You passed Cliff and Jared on the way to your car, Jensen saying he was riding home with you. Occasionally he did get a ride in with you and sometimes he even convinced you to come in with him if you were on the same shooting schedule for the day. He didn’t often drive for you though and you wondered what was on his mind.

“Hey, Jen,” you said once your seatbelt was on. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. You nodded, Jensen sighing.

“Just going home for the holidays...it can be a bit lonely, you know?” he said. “My siblings all have spouses and families and I’m the one crashing in my childhood bedroom by myself having my parents convince me I’m not a lost cause.”

“You know what you need right now?” you said, Jensen turning in his seat. You reached your hand out and traced a finger under his jaw, Jensen staring to laugh as you tickled him.

“Y/N, Y/N, I need to drive!” he laughed, squirming away until you finally relented. “I’m not even ticklish there.”

“Sure, you’re not,” you teased, scratching his jaw as Jensen chuckled. “I wanted to see a smile on that face of yours.”

“You always make me feel better when I’m down,” he said, smiling at you before suddenly turning away. “We should head out.”

After dinner at Jensen’s you headed down a few floors and to the other side of the building to your place, settling into your soaking tub, playing with some bubbles while you tried to think of what to possibly get him. A gift card was easy since you knew where he shopped and ate out. But it was impersonal and Jensen was your best friend. You were planning on getting him an actual Christmas present, had gotten it already, a pair of tickets to some pro golf thing where he could basically swing around clubs with the pros for a few hours and get some pointers. It sounded expensive but once you factored in the family discount your mom had swung for you with her friend, it was practically no cost at all.

You wanted to do something like that again, something he’d really love. All you kept thinking of though was stupid crap like an extra phone charger or heaven forbid, socks. You jolted up in the tub when your phone rang, quickly climbing out and grabbing it without looking.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Jensen. “Just me.”

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” you asked, throwing on your robe and undoing the tub. You walked into your bedroom, frowning at the clock. “I thought you were heading to bed early, catch up on some sleep.”

“Um...I did. I...shit, forget about it,” he said. “Night.”

He hung up and you pouted, calling him back but getting no answer.

“Ackles…” you grunted. You threw on your pajamas and grabbed your key, heading up to his apartment, knocking more than a few times before it opened up.

“What-”

“You call me like that and then don’t answer? Of course I’m coming to check on you,” you said, walking past him into the dark apartment. He sighed and closed the door, rubbing his eyes. His hair was tousled, shirt a little off. “You were asleep before.”

“Yeah. I was just about back asleep too when you showed up,” he said.

“Well why’d you call me?” you asked.

“I had a nightmare, alright?” he said, rubbing one of his arm, pulling at the sleeve of his t shirt. “I just...I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice for a second. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” you asked.

“What? No, seriously, Y/N. I’m fine. I shouldn’t-”

“Jensen,” you said. “There was totally that time I freaked out over a noise and you spent the night in my apartment because I was scared.”

“That was different,” he said.

“What? Boys aren’t allowed to be scared?” you said.

“No, we are. I just…” he said, scratching his head. “You aren’t leaving, are you.”

“You have a guest room. I’ll crash here, okay? If you have another nightmare, I’ll come wake you up,” you said. He opened his mouth but you put your hands on your hips, Jensen dropping his head. You stepped over and gave him a hug, Jensen tensing at the contact for a moment before he relaxed and returned it.

“You were in an accident. I couldn’t save you,” he said quietly. You looked up at him, Jensen staring across the room, avoiding your gaze. “The nightmare.”

“I’m right here, Jay,” you said, giving him a smile, wrapping your arms even tighter before you leaned back, picking him up off the ground, and let out a whoof. “You are heavier than I thought you’d be.”

“Well put me down, goofball,” he chuckled. You shook your head and slowly waddled down the hall to his bed, Jensen laughing his ass off by the time you got there.

“We are so doing a piggyback ride next time,” you said, bonking his nose when he was set down, throwing his covers back on him, a smile on his face. “Night, Jens.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You woke up to Jensen shaking you awake, eyes flashing open.

“Morning,” he said sleepily. “You got a eight am call time. Better get downstairs if you want to be on time.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, stretching for a second before you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, a bit of color in cheeks that was barely noticeable. “Thanks for last night. I mean, making sure I was okay.”

“S’never a problem, Jensen,” you said, yawning as you walked down the hall. “I’ll see you at work later.”

“Later, Y/L/N.”

You were taking a break between scenes on Tuesday, heading back to your trailer when you saw an envelope taped to the outside of it.

Your Secret Santa

“Oh, this’ll be good,” you said, ripping it off and heading into your trailer. You tore it open, pulling open a small typed out piece of paper.

Y/N,

I’m your Secret Santa. I know you’re new to set this year but I feel like you’ve been having a good time working with us all. We certainly enjoy working with you. You’re not only very talented, but kind and humble as well, something you may take for granted but I don’t, especially in this industry. Your personality has been refreshing around here and quite honestly, I look forward to the times I get to work with the cute new girl. Here’s to figuring out the perfect gift for you.

From,

Your SS

“Oh my…” you said, a knock at your door making you shriek. You heard Jensen chuckle as you called him in, Jensen laughing when you pursed your lips at him. “You startled me.”

“Scaredy cat,” he said, hopping up on your kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

“This? This is a letter from my secret santa,” you said, handing it to him.

“Letters aren’t a part of the exchange,” said Jensen reading it over. “Oh. Sounds like your secret santa has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Well that’s obvious,” you said, taking the letter back.

“Are you freaked out or…” said Jensen.

“No, no. I’m surprised is all,” you said. “What are the odds that someone who has a crush on me would be my secret santa?”

“About one in two fifty?” teased Jensen. You rolled your eyes and took a seat. “You think someone’s messing with you?”

“Jared does like to prank me,” you said.

“Yes but Jared doesn’t pull pranks like that. You got an admirer out there somewhere,” said Jensen with a smile. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah. I really need to figure out my own secret santa though before I can investigating who has a crush,” you said.

“Need any help?” asked Jensen. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, no. I can handle it. Want to run some lines?” you asked.

“Sure thing, rookie.”

Friday afternoon you got back to your chair at the end of your filming day, cocking your head at the green envelope sat in it.

“Oh, did the secret santa strike again?” teased Jared, laughing as you whacked his arm.

“Another letter? Lucky you,” joined in Jensen, collecting his things before he ran back to his trailer to change for another scene. You shoved your phone in your pocket and headed back for your own, tearing open the letter while you walked.

Y/N,

I hope my first letter didn’t startle you. I know you’re the kind of girl that’ll put on a tough face so I really do hope I didn’t cross a line. You’ll find out who I am soon. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole you’re cute thing since now you’re going to know exactly who has a crush on you and I won’t be able to deny it.

Forgetting my current embarrassment and most likely future rejection for the time being, I think I’ve found the perfect gift for you.

Have a great weekend, Y/N. You absolutely killed it this week.

From,

Your SS

“Wow,” said Jared. You jumped when you felt him right behind you, reading over your shoulder. “Poor dude thinks he’s already screwed it up just by calling you cute.”

“Jare, privacy?” you asked, folding up the sheet and shoving it back in the envelope.

“Oh, alright,” said Jared with a smirk. “I’ll just go on my merry old way then…”

“You know who it is, don’t you,” you said.

“Uh, duh,” said Jared.

“Want to help a girl out then?” you asked.

“Nope. I was given full permission to reveal I know who he is though because quote, ‘he doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo creeper’ to you,” said Jared. “Trust me, he’s the exact opposite.”

“Well you can tell him it’s fine. It’s cute, like someone leaving notes in my locker in school,” you said.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” said Jared, ruffling your head. “I’m heading home for the weekend. See you on Monday?”

“Have a safe flight,” you said, giving him a quick hug. Back in your trailer you worked on answering a few emails before you wound up hopelessly searching for Jensen’s perfect present.

Your secret santa had a crush on you and he’d easily found one for you. How come you couldn’t do the same for Jensen? Maybe you weren’t ready to admit out loud to him that you had a crush but deep down you knew that’s what it was. It was simple though, to write it off as having a good time with your best friend and nothing more. At least that’s what you’d been telling yourself despite all of the obvious signs.

Plus with this new crush out there, maybe this was exactly what you needed. It was probably one of the new guys this year, maybe Nate in production. He’d always been a little flirty in the breakfast line in the morning, sometimes showing you around the future set builds. He knew Jared pretty well and he was sweet.

“Rookie!” you heard, a loud banging on your door. You shut your computer and pushed away the thought, opening the door to find Jensen standing there with a cocked head. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was doing some work,” you said.

“It’s like after eight, Y/N,” he said. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back as the time had gotten away from you. “You work too hard, I swear.”

“I got distracted with thinking of the secret santa stuff,” you said, rushing back inside and flipping off the lights, grabbing your bag and locking up.

“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m fine. You had a long day,” you said, nodding over to where his car was waiting with Cliff. “Night.”

“Night,” he said quietly. You shoved your hands in your pockets as you started to walk, a quick rush of footsteps behind you before Jensen was at your side again. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. I know you don’t like walking alone to your car at night so I’m walking you, alright?”

“Alright. I didn’t know Cliff was teaching you to be a bodyguard, Ackles,” you said.

“Hey. I got scared the other night and you were there for me. I got your back too,” he said. “Besides, you never know what hooligan’s you’ll run into on the trek to the parking lot.”

“Oh yes. Good thing I got Dean Winchester to kick some ass for me if I need it,” you said, bumping his arm. “You heading home this weekend?”

“Yeah. I got a flight at midnight,” he said with a yawn. “Be back in Texas just before six. You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Unless you count watching TV and cleaning my apartment fun.”

“Maybe you can get your secret santa shopping out of the way,” said Jensen. “I’m already done with mine.”

“Seriously? How?” you asked.

“I didn’t overthink it like a certain someone,” he said. “Just get them a gift card and be done with it.”

“Maybe. I’m sure I’ll figure something out soon.”

Two Weeks Later

It was Thursday morning, the last day on set before the break started. You’d come up with absolutely crap all for Jensen, hoping to run out at lunch and find something before you gave him his backup present, a gift card for his favorite restaurant.

Your secret santa had left you a few more sweet notes over the past weeks and you decided that, festering feelings for Jensen aside, you were going to give your secret santa at least one date to see how things went.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Jensen, walking into your trailer as you were heading out to the store at lunch. It was strange of him not to knock and the look on his face worried you more than getting him the wrong present. “Do you got a second? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” you said, waving him to take a seat on your couch. “You okay, Jay?”

“I...here,” he said, pulling a card out of his pocket and shoving it in your hands. It was a christmas card, one that put a smile on your face.

“Thanks, Jensen,” you said, opening it, a plane ticket falling out. You caught it in your lap, glancing at him but he was staring at his own.

Y/N,

If you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s me. Jensen. I’m your secret santa. I didn’t plan for this to happen and I was a bit shocked when I pulled out your name but I thought, hey it’s a great opportunity. I knew immediately what I wanted to give you. A plane ticket to come visit me in Austin over break. I hated when we didn’t see each other that much over summer hiatus and I thought maybe you’d want to spend a week with me.

But you’d figure out who your secret santa was if I did that. But it was what I really wanted to give you and you don’t have to come down if you don’t want. So I figured once you would eventually find out who I was, why not man up and tell you about my obnoxious school boy crush on my best friend? I know you’re fully aware that I hardly ever make the first move, but it seemed easier to say I think you’re amazing in a letter somehow. The funny thing is, all those things I’ve said in these letters, I’ve told you in person before. But I don’t think you believed me. I really do believe you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. Not too many people are like you, have a goodness in them and a genuine care for other people. You take care of me, Y/N. I can be a weird goofball in front of you and it feels so comfortable. I’ve never felt that with another person outside my family, definitely not in another person that I have certain feelings for.

I hope you do decide to come visit and you’ll give me a chance.

You lifted your head when you finished reading, tucking the ticket back inside the card. You stood up and grabbed the envelope meant for Jensen on your table, spinning back around to crash straight into his chest, Jensen trying to make a fast break for it.

“Hey,” you said, holding up your hands, giving him the card. “I was your secret santa too.”

“Oh,” he said, opening the card. “It’s for the steakhouse. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you said, blocking his path out of the trailer. “I was thinking maybe tonight...we could go use that gift card on a date where you can tell me all about the stuff we’re going to do in Austin.”

“Really?” he said, everything so much lighter about him as you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Yeah. See...I’ve had this crush on my bestie for a while too. But then this secret santa guy was sending me these sweet letters and I swore I was going to go on a date with him because he was too good to be true. But it makes perfect sense now considering it was you,” you said.

“You’re really going to come visit me?” he asked. You nodded, leaning up and pecking a kiss on his cheek.

“Sure am,” you said. Jensen smiled so hard his cheeks had to be hurting. He glanced down at your lips once before pressing his to them, landing a gentle kiss.

“Y/N you want-” said Jared, bursting in through the door, pausing on the step as you and Jensen turned to look at him. “Well. Looks like you two kids are having some fun so I’ll just grab lunch on my own.”

“You knew the whole time,” you said.

“Duh,” said Jared. “I can’t believe she never figured it out.”

“Figured it out when it mattered,” said Jensen. Jared hummed and gave you both a smile, leaving you be. “So...what time should I pick you up for our date?”

“Eight sound good to you, secret santa?” you teased.

“Sounds perfect, Y/N.”

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