#and not talking at breakfast. and then Will cut Mike a lot of slack after that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

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

"Sandwiches okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's good. You could use a nap.

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

But first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

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

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

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

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

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

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

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

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

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

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

At least it makes sense now.

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

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

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Were you ever close with him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you seen him since?"

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

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

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

"Anyway," he mimics.

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

"Is this why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Mm. I guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

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

"No. Just friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You listening, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, okay.”

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

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

What a fucking joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is happening to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

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

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elianamarie-blog · 4 years

Text

The Things You Give Pt. 11

Happy spooky season, my dear loves! Thank you for being so patient with me as I publish each part. I really hope you enjoy this next part. I love hearing from you guys so feel free to message or leave a comment <3

Steven Hyde x Reader

“Eric!” Y/n said, completely frozen in shock. “W-what are you, uh, what are y-you doing h-here?”

Eric’s face didn’t change as he stared at the couple in front him, wide eyes and jaw slack. So many questions ran through his mind as well as different emotions. Rage, confusion, hurt, shock, and most of all: betrayal. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or strangle them both. His hands started to shake and he swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Uh…it’s not what it looks like!” Hyde said, trying to save the situation. “She was helping me move some boxes and she found some of my nudie magazines.”

“Yeah!” Y/n cut in, catching on. “And I started making fun of him for it and that’s why it sounded like we were talking dirty and that’s why we look like this because of all the moving…and it’s hard work. And we smell like this because we got all sweaty. But nothing else happened!”

Eric couldn’t believe that his best friend and sister would think he was that stupid. He couldn’t even say anything to them. All he could do was calmly walk out through the basement door without saying a word.

“Oh no,” Y/n said under her breath.

“Crap,” Hyde sighed and looked at Y/n who looked like she was about to cry.

Down at the Hub, the couple and everyone else, minus Eric, sat around their usual table as Y/n and Hyde relayed what had happened just a short hour prior.

“He was like a deer caught in the headlights,” Hyde said. “A very angry looking deer.”

“You know what this means?” Donna asked. “This means that he’s going to rant for the next six months and guess who is going to have hear about it?” She pointed a finger at herself. “That’s right, me. Over and over and over again.”

“I know,” Y/n grumbled and hid her face in her hand. “This is so not the way I wanted him to find out. Any of you really.”

“Yeah, I still think I found out the worst way still,” Donna commented and took a sip of her root beer, but not before she shuddered dramatically. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Yeah it wasn’t a thrill for us either,” Hyde said and took some fries from Y/n’s basket.

“To be honest, I’m kinda scared to see him,” Y/n said after taking a sip of her coke. “He just…didn’t say anything and stormed out.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say,” Jackie said. “I mean, he probably was disgusted.”

“Jackie, what the hell, man?” Y/n asked her frustrated.

“No, I mean it’s his sister and best friend. How would you feel if that happened to you?” she defended.

“It did happen to me!” Y/n said. “When Mike McCan’t Keep It In His Pants over here and Easily Spread Butter started sleeping together.”

“First of all, that’s a good burn,” Kelso laughed. “And second of all…I totally nailed your sister! Now if I can nail you, I’d done it with all the Forman girls!”

Hyde didn’t even hesitate to connect his fist to Kelso’s shoulder. Kelso grunted and glared at him before scooting away from him.

“So, how did it make you feel? How did you react?” Donna asked.

“Well, I was beyond angry because I felt so betrayed and disgusted and lied to—ah crap,” Y/n said, realizing what the point was. “Dammit, Jackie, I hate it when you’re right!”

“Which isn’t very common,” Jackie stated, holding up a finger. “But when I am, it’s a big deal.”

“Have you guys seen Eric?” Y/n asked.

“I haven’t,” Donna answered.

“Me either,” Jackie mumbled.

“Nada,” Kelso said.

“Sorry,” Fez finally said, shaking his head.

“Man, I’m kinda freaking out,” Hyde said. “Normally I don’t, especially when it comes to Forman, but you should’ve seen him. I’ve never seen him like this. Normally, he’s like, you know, all squeaky and twitchy, but this time, he was just quiet and walked out calmly.”

“Yeah, I don’t what I’m going to do once I see him,” Y/n said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Well, you might want to figure it out soon because he’s coming in,” Fez said, panicking a little.

Y/n and Hyde whipped around to see Eric stomping in, but the second he came in and made eye contact with them, the air around them suddenly went still.

“Hi, Eric,” Y/n said softly.

“Hey man,” Hyde said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

The dirty blonde twin looked at them before turning away back into the parking lot.

“Damn,” Kelso mumbled and turned back around to face the group. “He’s really pissed.”

“Trust me guys, I’ve known Eric our whole lives and I’ve never seen him like this,” Y/n said.

“Well, duh, you shared the womb with the guy,” Fez piped up and everyone couldn’t help but roll their eyes. “I guess you can say, you were wombmates.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at that while everyone else groaned and rolled their eyes.

⧝⧝⧝

The next day, things between the twins and Hyde were still eerily quiet. Eric couldn’t even be in the same room as them. Even at the breakfast table, Eric refused to look up from his plate. Kitty and Red shared a look, knowing something was wrong.

“What’s wrong with you?” Red asked. “You’re usually annoying in the morning. Actually, I can get used to this.”

“Red,” Kitty said sternly and turned to Eric. “Eric, honey, are you okay?”

“M’ fine,” Eric mumbled shortly without looking up and shoveled some eggs into his mouth.

“Did you get into a fight with Donna?” she asked.

“Mom, I said I’m fine. Can we please drop it?” Eric asked, trying to not raise his voice at her.

She held her hands up. “Fine, fine.”

The table went back to ground breaking silence while everyone sat there tense and still, except for Red who was actually enjoying the silence for once.

Outside later in the afternoon, everyone, minus Eric, sat in the driveway, shooting some hoops and talking on top of the Vista Cruiser.

“Where’s Eric?” Jackie asked.

“He’s…somewhere,” Y/n answered and looked towards the house. “I think he’s been hiding in his room all day. Or he just goes where we aren’t.”

“Probably both,” Jackie said and shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to be in his room either.”

Donna laughed. “That’s true. One time I just walked in and he was reading a nudey magazine and I swear I’ve never seen him jump up so fast. It would’ve been funnier if he wasn’t naked.”

Y/n and Jackie shuddered in horror.

“Gross!” Jackie exclaimed.

“What she said,” Y/n said and gagged. “Thanks for that mental image.”

Y/n looked over to Steven, Michael, and Fez playing basketball and made eye contact with Steven. In that split second, Michael took advantage of it and swiped the ball from him. He made a slam dunk and stuck his tongue out at Hyde.

Hyde quickly grabbed the ball and spun around, dodging Kelso’s attempted swipe and slammed it into the basket.

“Hyde: two, Kelso: uno,” Hyde said, smirking and balanced the ball on his hip.

“I love watching you play basketball,” Y/n said, her voice lowering.

“Yeah?” Hyde responded, staring her down.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” she responded before realizing they were in front of everyone and cleared her throat. “Or you know, whatever.”

“Get a room!” Kelso shouted.

“It’s my house!” Y/n argued.

“Exactly! So, you should go find one and get that out of here,” he responded.

“Shut up, man. We used to have to watch you and Jackie make out all the time,” Hyde said.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t weird like this is,” Kelso responded.

Y/n and Hyde rolled their eyes at him before turning back to each other.

“So, have you seen him?” he asked her.

“No, have you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’re going to have face him sooner or later.”

“Later,” Y/n answered. “Gives me time to think of ways to calm him down. Or by the time we do face him we’ll be in Guadalajara.”

Hyde shook his head smiling. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Y/n sighed and hopped off the car. “Fine. Let’s go find him.”

“I think I saw him go into the basement earlier,” Fez said and everyone followed Y/n and Steven to go to the basement.

“Can we get some privacy?” Y/n asked when they noticed everyone was following them.

“No way!” Kelso answered. “We aren’t going to miss the show.”

Y/n grunted, feeling annoyed. “Idiots.”

Hyde turned around and slammed his fist into Kelso’s shoulder. “Will you get out of here? All of you!”

“Ow!” Kelso yelled. “Fine!”

Everyone dispersed leaving Hyde and Y/n alone.

Begrudgingly, Hyde and Y/n made their way to the basement where they did, in fact, see Eric sitting on the couch watching TV. But judging his body language, he was tense and still really pissed off.

“Eric?” Y/n called out gently, afraid to scare him off like a stray animal. “How are you doing?” She rounded to the couch to face him and saw his chin resting on his thumb while his index finger held up his cheek. He wasn’t paying attention to the tv and was just sitting there, seething.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye to back to the screen. He stayed silent, refusing to speak to her.

She looked at Hyde desperately, needing help.

“Listen, Forman. We need to talk about this,” Hyde said stepping forward.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, struggling to keep his voice leveled.

“Yes, there is and it’s need to happen,” Steven responded. “I get it, you’re pissed. But this needs to be hashed out so it doesn’t become another Kelso fiasco. So, come on. Let’s talk.”

“Talk about what, exactly?” Eric snapped. “What’s there to talk about? Talk about you screwing my sister? Or that you guys went behind my back and have been lying to me this whole time? Or how ‘bout this, that you went after my twin sister? You know it was bad enough when Kelso did it with Laurie, but Y/N?” He shook his head.

“Eric, please,” Y/n begged. “Trust me, this is not the way we wanted you to find out.”

He jerked his head to look at her. “How did you want me to find out?”

She shrugged her shoulders nervously. “I don’t know, but somewhere along the lines we wanted to tell you.”

“And how did you think I would take that?!” he yelled. “You’re sleeping with my best friend! I can’t believe you guys would do this to me!”

“Okay, first all, Forman, we’re not doing anything to you,” Hyde defended. “In fact, this isn’t about you at all. And second of all, it’s nothing like that. It’s more than that now.”

Eric’s face darkened. “What do you mean by that?”

Hyde cast his eyes down and looked to Y/n before turning his gaze back to Eric. “I love her, man.”

“WHAT?!” Eric practically screamed. He dragged a hand down his face and started to pace behind the couch.

Y/n stayed seated as she watched her brother’s breathing becoming uneven and shaken. She knew that he was about to lose his cool.

“What the hell do you mean you love her?” he continued shouting. “Out of all the stupid crap you’ve pulled, this has got to be the dumbest one yet!”

“What do you mean by that?” Hyde asked offended.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he replied. “You stringing my sister along for fun, making her believe that you’re in love with her and then when you get tired of her, you’re going to dump her for the next girl that comes along.”

“That’s what you think I’m doing?” Hyde was getting visibly angry. “You think I would that to her? I’m not freaking Kelso!”

“I don’t see you denying it!”

“Hang on!” Y/n shouted, standing from her seat. “Do you really think I’m naïve to fall for something like that again?”

“Well, you did before,” Eric spat.

Y/n’s blood started to boil. “That’s nothing compared to what Steven and I have! What he is saying is true because I love him too!”

Eric’s face fell and flushed red, clenching his teeth. “How long?”

“How long what?” Y/n asked.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Well, uh, since June,” she answered.

“So, you’ve been dating secretly for four months and never thought of when to tell me?! When were you going to tell me? After you guys secretly got married? Or after the birth of your first secret child?”

“It’s not like we wanted to hurt you,” Y/n defended. “We didn’t plan for anyone else to find out either.”

“Everybody else knows?!” Eric shouted.

“Nice going,” Hyde grumbled, elbowing Y/n’s arm. Gently, of course.

“Uh—yeah. They kind of…found out on their own. Except for Fez. Kelso told him, but other than that, yeah. They caught on.”

“How do you think Mom and Dad are going to take it when they find out their daughter is screwing the town’s rebel?!”

“You mean the one they took in?” she asked angrily. “The one who they love like another son?”

“I’m warning you now when Dad finds out, you’re dead. Both of you. And I mean literally,” Eric warned and continued to pace.

“I know, but this a risk that we’re willing to take,” she said and walked over to where Hyde was standing and wrapped her arms around his waist. Steven wrapped a protective arm around her and held her close. “I love him and he loves me. I’m actually happy.”

“I know this hard for you to get through your thick skull, but I really do love her, man. For the first time ever, I’m happy,” Steven said, more calmly this time.

“Stop saying that!” Eric screeched.

“It’s true, man!” Hyde yelled back. “Will you quit acting like a two-year-old and actually have a decent conversation?”

“You don’t get to tell me how to act when you’ve been going behind my back like this,” Eric growled. “Don’t you dare tell me how to act!”

“This is why we didn’t want to tell you!” Y/n said. “We knew you’d act like this!”

“How am I supposed to act, Y/n? I mean, for four months, four damn months, you’ve been doing whatever you’ve been doing in secret. I can barley understand all of this. I don’t know how the hell you expect me to accept this!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to because this isn’t going to end anytime soon!” Hyde said.

Eric finally stopped pacing and looked Hyde straight in the eye. “You know what bothers me the most? That I gave you more than one chance to tell me the truth and you lied to me. I’m supposed to be your best friend, your brother, and you couldn’t even come to me to say, ‘Hey man, I like your sister and I’m thinking of asking her out. Just thought I’d give you a heads up,’” Eric said, doing an impression of Hyde.

Hyde unhooked his arm from Y/n’s shoulder. “Okay, first of all the impression, uncanny,” he said sarcastically. “And second, even if I did come to you first you still wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Of course not!” he said. “But it still would’ve been better than being lied to!”

Hyde and Y/n grew quiet and looked at each other. As much as they hated to admit it, he was right. They should’ve at least said something to him before all this.

“You know what? I can’t even look at you two right now,” Eric finally said and walked over to the door, grabbing his coat from the rack.

“Where you going?” Y/n asked, tears beginning to surface.

“Anywhere but here!” Eric shouted and slammed the door on his way out.

“Damn it,” Y/n groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “I knew this was going to blow up in our faces.”

“Let’s just give him some space,” Hyde said and brought her in for a hug. “It’ll be okay. He can’t stay mad forever.”

“What was all that yelling about?” Kitty asked, coming down the stairs.

Y/n pushed herself away from Hyde and stood close to him. “We got into a fight with Eric.”

“You two got into a fight with Eric?” she asked surprised. “Why? What happened?”

“Donna and Eric had a fight,” Hyde and Y/n answered quickly together.

“Nice!” Y/n laughed.

“Alright!” Hyde laughed with her.

Y/n turned back to her mother. “We sided with her and now he’s all pissed at us.”

“What about this time?” Kitty asked.

“I’m not too sure,” Y/n lied. “Something about Star Wars.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “Those two fight over the dumbest things.”

“You can say that again,” Hyde said, chuckling to himself.

“Well, when Eric gets back, make you sure tell him dinner’s almost ready.” She trotted back up the stairs, leaving the couple along again.

They sighed together and collapsed on the couch next to each other.

“What are we going to do?” Y/n groaned and dropped her head on his shoulder.

Hyde kissed her head and sighed as he put his arm around her. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up on his face. “I love you too.”

⧝⧝⧝

The next day at the hub, the gang, again minus Eric, sat around a table eating burgers and fries. Y/n slurped on a milkshake while listening to Jackie’s incessant rant about God-knows-what.

“So, then as Brittany took the position of head cheerleader from me, now the whole squad has been completely ignoring me and talking behind my back. That skank wad,” said Jackie, crossing her arms.

“I thought you quit cheerleading?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, but then I realized I needed to go back to my natural habitat. Snobby and bitchy.”

“At least you’re honest,” Y/n said..

“So, you talked to Eric, huh?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, and he didn’t take it well at all,” Hyde responded.

“Well what happened?” Fez asked.

Y/n and Hyde went into the details of what happened the night before with everyone’s eyes glued to their faces.

“Man, he’s taking this a lot harder than I thought,” Donna said, leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“I’m not surprised,” Kelso piped up. “I mean, he hated it when me and Laurie got together, but yours is way worse.”

Y/n squinted at him. “How is this worse, exactly?”

“Well, me and Laurie were just doing it,” he responded. “You guys actually feelings for each other.”

“No, you idiot,” said Fez. “If he was just doing her he would be angrier because then Hyde would look at her just like a hot piece of meat instead of actually having feelings for her.”

“Thanks, Fez,” Y/n said, happy that someone made that point.

“Or,” Kelso said. “He’s madder because this is a thing that’s going to stick and not just be a fling and get over with.”

“That’s also a good point,” Jackie said.

Y/n gave a look to Donna and shook her head before continuing. “Anyway, I don’t know what else to do.”

“There’s nothing you really can do,” Donna responded. “He knows now and there’s nothing you can say or do to make him any less pissed.”

“Except if you two broke up,” Jackie said.

“Oh, I got it!” Kelso said, snapping his fingers. “You two should break up!”

“Kelso!” Hyde and Y/n said in unison.

“No! I mean you two should fake break up and then Forman won’t be so mad at you anymore,” he responded.

“Well, that’s not too bad of an idea,” Jackie said.

“What’s the point of that?” Hyde said. “He’s already pissed off at us for lying to him. What makes you think this one is better?”

“Yeah, good point,” Fez said. “Well, then Donna is right. There’s nothing you can do.”

Y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “This sucks.”

“I know, but he’ll come to accept it,” Donna said. “Especially if this is going to last.”

“What Miss Kitty and Mr. Red?” Fez asked. “Red is a fireball. He’s going to lose his crap.”

Everybody gasped.

“Red!” Kelso shouted. “I didn’t even think about him!” Then he started laughing. “You’re so dead, man.”

Hyde glared at him. “You think we didn’t think of that?”

“Well, we’re eighteen now. He can’t tell us what to do and who to be with,” Y/n said, turning to Steven. “He’s going to have to get over it.”

“Yeah, after he sticks his foot in your ass,” Donna laughed.

“I’ll take it,” Hyde said and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take anything for you.”

Y/n giggled as everyone awe’d at him.

“Shut up!” Hyde yelled, but a smile formed on his face anyway.

A ding at the door caused the group to turn around. Zack stood at the entrance and made his way over to Y/n once he made eye contact with her. Y/n internally groaned.

“So, you’re with the school burnout now huh?” Zack mocked. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to find someone better than me.”

Y/n blinked at him. “Great. You’re back. Don’t you have to be annoying somewhere else? Like in college? Or did you fail and disappoint them too?”

“BURN!” Kelso shouted, laughing along with the rest of the group.

“I didn’t fail out,” he defended. “They kicked me out.”

Y/n laughed. “For what? For spiking the sorority girls’ punch?”

“No,” he said, growing frustrated at everyone’s laughter. “I broke into the girl’s locker room and drilled a hole through the wall.”

Y/n through her head back and laughed. “Yeah, you know what, I upgraded. And my guy maybe a ‘burnout’ but at least he doesn’t cheat on me with some skank.”

“I only cheated because you wouldn’t put out,” he said, his cheeks puffing out.

“Yeah, get lost, Loser,” Y/n said, throwing the word back in his face.

He pfft’d and smacked Hyde in the arm. “Good luck with this bitch, man.”

Hyde glared at Zack before slowly standing and winding his fist back and connecting it to his nose. Zack cried out and held his nose in his hand.

“What the hell, you prick?!” he shouted.

“Call my girlfriend a bitch again and I’ll make sure you’ll be the first person to touch his chin to his ass!” Steven shouted. “Get the hell out of here!”

Zack didn’t respond as he scrambled out of the building.

“That was awesome!” Donna cried out, laughing.

“Yeah, that was,” Kelso said, smiling. “I’ve never heard a guy scream like a bitch before.”

“Me neither,” Y/n chuckled and looked to Hyde. “By the way, that was so hot.”

“I gotta protect my girl,” he said and leaned in for a kiss. Y/n smiled into the kiss as she placed her hand on his face, scratching his sideburns.

“Oh, God,” Eric called out from the door, feeling disgusted seeing them being affectionate.

Hyde and Y/n pulled apart and looked at Eric.

“Hi,” Y/n said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come down and see my dear sister with our dear friends, to try and maybe to hang out and get some normalcy, but seeing you two makes me want to vomit.”

“Oh, come on, Eric,” Donna said. “It’s not like this Kelso and Laurie.”

“That’s what I said!” Hyde said, trying to deflate the situation.

“Besides, they’re kind of cute together,” Donna said with a smile on her face. She looked to Y/n who mouthed a ‘thank you’ and winked at her. “You can’t stay mad at them forever.”

“Maybe not, but I can for a really, really long time,” he answered and was about to walk out the door when Y/n stopped him.

“Eric, wait no,” she said and got up, grabbing his hand. “Please don’t go. Sit with us.”

“Look, Y/n. I can’t. You have no idea how angry I am that you lied to me. We’re twins and we’re not supposed to have any secrets between us. We share everything, but you know the thing that really hurts the most? It’s that you felt like you couldn’t come to me at all. I can understand Mom and Dad, especially Dad because he’s well, scary, but me? I thought we were best friends and you trusted me enough to come to me.”

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes. “Eric, I do.”

“Clearly not enough,” he said, hurt laced in his face and drew his hand back from hers. He looked to Hyde who looked like he felt deep guilt. “We’re supposed to be best friends and you couldn’t even tell me the truth the first time. You clearly don’t care about anyone else but yourselves.”

“Eric, that’s not fair!” Y/n cried.

“You want to talk to me about fairness?!” he raised his voice again. “This isn’t fair. None of this is fair! It wasn’t fair that you went behind my back and started doing it! Or, that you couldn’t even come tell me that you have fallen in love with each other! That’s not fair.”

He walked out the Hub, leaving Y/n in tears. She sat back down and rested her head in the crook of Hyde’s neck, face turned away from the group so they couldn’t see her tears.

Hyde wrapped his around her waist and held her close, trying his best to comfort her.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” Donna said. “I’ll talk to him later.”

“But he’s right,” Y/n croaked out and turned her face back to them. “This isn’t fair to him and we did him wrong.”

“But you can’t help how you feel,” Jackie said sweetly. “It’s not like you did this to get back at Eric for something. You two truly do love each other and if he cared about you, he wouldn’t be so angry.”

“No, he has every right to be,” Y/n said, wiping her eyes. “Yes, we have strong feelings for each other, but we still went behind his back and betrayed him. He has every right to feel the way he does.”

No one else knew what to say, but to look at each other.

“I gotta go,” Y/n said and ran out before anyone else could see more tears.

“I should go too,” Hyde said. “This is my fault too.”

He got up and walked out after her, feeling the same guilt as she did.

Taglist:

@lieswithoutfairytales @mdittyz123

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Michael Kelso #jackie burkhart #fez #fez x jackie #i just love when fez sings this because it's so cute haha

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returnsandreturns · 6 years

Text

Someday, I’ll figure out how to write the evil twin storyline in the Netflix ‘verse but this isn’t it, so have a draft.

Foggy tries to rationalize the video for a few hours, watching it on a loop like it will suddenly start to make sense that it’s Matt who’s fighting like that, that Matt’s got blood on his knuckles and running down his temple, that Matt—is the Devil. He hasn’t found his way to the end of a thought that he can run with yet, but the video’s clear enough that Foggy can see that it’s Matt whose mask got torn off and that he’s making a face that Foggy’s never seen before.

The only word he can think of is vicious. It’s unsettling. It doesn’t look—wrong, though.

He was working late at the office, coming from the kitchenette with a strong cup of coffee that means he won’t sleep much tonight, when he found the flash drive lying on the floor. The flash drive with one video, no explanation, now playing for the one-millionth time on Foggy’s laptop—the one that has him wondering if Matt would pick up if he called right now.

Matt doesn’t pick up. And he doesn’t answer his door.

“I need to ask you a question,” Foggy says, his heart beating fast, standing in the doorway of Matt’s office. Matt feels his stomach drop, even though—surely it can’t be about what he does at night. It never is.

“Go ahead,” he says, smiling.

Sometimes, that makes Foggy’s heart beat faster, too, but right now all Matt can hear is his feet shuffling lightly, a faint crack in his knees when he shifts his weight.

“Where were you last night?” Foggy asks.

“. . .home,” Matt says, after a half-second.

“You didn’t answer your door,” Foggy says, sighing shakily before he moves to sit on the chair in front of Matt’s desk. “Matt.”

“I was asleep. I’ve been—tired.”

“Matt.” Foggy’s voice is surprising, scared and angry and fed-up. He’s never really sounded like that when he’s been talking to Matt before; they’ve never really had a real fight. “I know, okay? Someone sent us a video of you—freaking backflipping and beating the shit out of people and—I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Matt’s whole world feels like it stops for a few moments, trying to keep a straight face like he learned how to do a long time ago, even though he feels like all the progress he’s made in the neighborhood has suddenly come crashing to a halt and the wreckage of at least one part of his life is about to collapse at his feet.

“I—I know it looks bad,” he says, swallowing hard, trying to get real words out.

It’s easy for people to believe that he’s clumsy, that he walks into lamps and stumbles on curbs and falls, and it’s easy for them to see cuts and bruises and scrapes as the result of him not being able to see. That’s because they’ve never seen what he can do—occasionally, he thinks sometimes they only think about the things they think he can’t, but he knows that doesn’t apply to—what he does. Fighting. Fighting really fucking well, even if he feels like he’s losing a lot.

And Foggy—Foggy’s smart and he knows Matt better than anyone and there’s no way he didn’t put the whole picture since the first time he saw Matt with bruised knuckles together after he saw what he saw.

“It looks like you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Foggy says, with a laugh that hurts to hear. “Am I wrong? Tell—tell me that I’m wrong, Matt.”

Matt’s not prepared for this. He knew it might happen eventually, that he’d slip up or Foggy would connect dots that he didn’t hide well enough, but he never got to the point where he knew what he would do.

“You’re wrong,” he says, before he can think of something better. “It’s not me.”

“I saw your face,” Foggy says.

“You didn’t,” Matt says, and he thinks of telenovelas that he hears from one of his neighbors, the ones he listens to over breakfast sometimes, and does something that could never possibly work. “It wasn’t me, it was—my brother.”

“. . .your what?”

“Mike,” Foggy says, feeling kind of numb. “Mike Murdock.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, sighing.

“The Devil is your identical twin brother who nobody has ever met or even heard of,” Foggy says, slowly, squinting at the face that Matt is making and failing to read it, “and his name is Mike Murdock.”

“I know it’s insane,” Matt says. “You’ve got to get why I don’t talk about him, though. There’s—a reason why he does what he does.”

“And what’s that?” Foggy asks, clearly not believing him, which is—valid.

“He’s violent,” Matt says, firmly, thinking too hard about it. “He’s—got anger issues and he doesn’t care who he hurts and he’s—he’s a fighter. He’s what I couldn’t be.”

It hurts to lie like this. More than Matt thought it could hurt.

“. . .this is really hard to believe,” Foggy says, like maybe he could believe it. Or like he really wants to.

Matt tries not to sound bitter when he lets out a long breath and raises his eyebrows at Foggy, “How could I possibly do what the Devil does, Fog?”

Foggy’s quiet for a long time.

“If you weren’t actually blind,” he says, like he knows it’s the wrong thing to say, and Matt’s chest feels tight. “Shit, that’s—I know you wouldn’t lie about that. But I also know that we grew up in the same neighborhood. Between you and your dad, we all knew some shit about the Murdocks—and we somehow didn’t notice you had a twin?”

“Mike got in trouble all the time and—young,” Matt says. He’s getting worryingly good about lying on command, but it’s an act of survival, of not losing Foggy or the life they’ve built. It’s got to be worth it. “He ran away a lot, even as a kid, and he—he ended up in juvie instead of with me, after Dad died.”

“. . .I just can’t believe it,” Foggy says, frustrated. “Matt, I know your face. That was you.”

“It wasn’t,” Matt says. “I promise.”

“. . .then let me meet him.”

Matt thinks about it for a moment. It’s dumb and risky and probably won’t work, but—he can do that.

“Okay. I’ll see if I can get in touch with him,” he says, smiling weakly.

“Jesus, Matt,” Foggy says, genuinely angry, the tiniest bit amused looking at Matt dressed in dark Ray-Bans, old, too-tight jeans, a black shirt open enough to show—scars. Well, Foggy’s never seen those, but Matt hasn’t undressed in front of him since they lived together. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe this.”

“How can I prove it to you?” Matt asks, smile not faltering at all.

“Produce the original Murdock,” Foggy says, dryly.

“He won’t even be in the same room as me,” Matt says, immediately. “Last time we saw each other, we didn’t exactly part on the best terms.”

He didn’t think Matt could be so good at lying, but apparently, he’s good enough to start doing dangerous, illegal—improbable shit without anybody else knowing about it. Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising.

“Just stop it, Matt,” he says. “We can deal with the rest of it, but this is just stupid.”

Matt’s silent for a long moment before he smiles—slow and dark. Foggy’s never seen that face, either—at least not directed at him.

“How about I do something that good ol’ Matthew would never do?” he asks, stepping forward one step. Foggy has two impulses, both backing away and stepping towards him.

“Like what exactly?” he asks, stepping towards him.

Matt licks his lips and then Foggy’s being kissed, really kissed, and he’s too shocked to pull away—and by the time he gets his bearings, he doesn’t want to. He wraps his arms around Matt and Matt’s got his fingers tucked into the back of Foggy’s slacks and Foggy’s kind of forgotten why this is happening because it feels so good.

When he finally steps back, he says, breathlessly, “Whoa.”

Everything settles down in Foggy’s head, because—he’s right. Matt would never do that.

“Yeah,” Mike says.

“. . .so you’re Matt’s secret, possibly evil gay twin?” Foggy asks, weakly. Mike grins at him.

“I’m whatever you want me to be, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and Foggy can’t resist the pull as Mike steps back into his space and slides rough fingers up his cheek and into his hair, even though this is insane. They’ve known each other for ten minutes and he could actually be Matt, only Matt—wouldn’t do this.

He wouldn’t.

Matt leaves their office with his dick painfully hard in his jeans and a sick feeling in his stomach, feeling like a piece of shit for using the fact that Foggy’s attracted to him against him and that he’s got to let go of Mike before this goes too far. It was a terrible plan, and when it falls apart, Foggy’s going to know everything.

Matt wants to walk back in and keep kissing him.

After he gets home, Foggy calls him and says, “Met your brother. He’s kind of a dick.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, laughing softly. “He is.”

“. . .that wasn’t you, was it? Matt?” Foggy asks, shakily, and Matt feels like the worst person in the entire world.

“No,” he says. “No, of course not.”

Foggy says that he believes him, and Matt knows that he should stop everything and apologize now and just let Foggy hate him since it’s going to happen anyway. But he doesn’t.

That night, he prays and regrets and jerks off to the thought of his dick in Foggy’s mouth.

Foggy doesn’t say anything about it the next day, because he’s worried how much he’ll give away—or that the don’t tell Matt he mumbled against Mike’s mouth wasn’t taken to heart. It felt like a betrayal, kissing someone who Matt hates who also looks like him, but it’s not going to happen again.

They eat lunch together in the conference room and Matt says, like he’s been thinking about it all day, “Sorry if he—if Mike was a jerk to you. I never wanted you to meet him.”

“He wasn’t that bad,” Foggy says, smiling. “Kind of like you, but worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” Matt says, laughing.

They eat silently for a few minutes before Foggy says, hoping it sounds like a joke, “I still kind of think that you might be screwing with me.”

Matt’s mouth drops open and then he seems to collect himself, saying, kind of sadly, “I don’t blame you. I should’ve told you about him sooner, especially considering—the last few months.”

Foggy kicks him gently under the table.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Knowing that you’ve hidden your clone from me all these years does make me wonder what other secrets are lurking in that handsome head of yours, but I’m only kind of mad.”

Matt smiles and nods and they fall into silence until Matt says, “Uhm, what—what did he say to you, exactly?”

Foggy’s mind runs through possibilities, none of them true, until he finally says, “Barely anything. Just verified your story.”

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil #you run into issues with consent in lots of ways

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michael-hearteyes-wheeler · 6 years

Note

can you please do this prompt for lumax? “My biggest fear is drunkenly saying something I wasn’t supposed to say.” “Oh, like last night?” “…What?” xxxxxxxx

Okay! So this took me really long time to write and I am sorry about that! Also its painfully fluffy. Like so bad?? So be careful before diving into this one unless you actually want a toothache.

Also! I don’t write fluff very often so i’m not sure if its my best work, but I like it and think its fun, and I hope you do too!

Its bright. It’s so god damn bright. Why the hell is it so god damn bright!?

Max turns over in her bed to hide from the sun shining through her window. When she does, her head pounds against her skull and she groans. Her hand reaches out and feels cool hardwood floor, not the soft fabric of her sheets. So she groans again. It feels like she got hit by a bus, and now she was dying on someones floor. Great.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” A cherry voiced came from above. Max turned and opened an eye to see El’s blurry smiling face come into focus.

The night before slowly came back to her, bit by bit.

The party invite no one was expecting. Getting ready with El at her house. Showing up when the party was in full swing. Shitty music. Shitty people. Shitty booze. And then… nothing.

“El? Why do I feel like i’m dying?” Max’s voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Because you got super wasted last night, and refused to drink any water or eat anything.” El smirked. Her voice was quiet even if it sounded like screaming to a very hungover max, and she was already dressed for the day. How long has Max been sleeping?

“I did? I honestly don’t remember anything after you and Mike went into the basement.” Max grimaced, moving to sit up and squinting tightly as her head pounded even harder.

“Holy shit dude, you don’t remember anything? I guess that makes sense. I came upstairs and found you competitively taking shots with a group of cheerleaders. It was curtains from there.” El laughed.

“God, cheerleaders? Did I win at least?”

“Yeah you kicked their asses, but then you threw up and Lucas took you outside.”

“Ugh I feel like shit.” Max thought back on the bright red colors liquid everyone had been drinking all night. It tasted like pure sugar, and she was positive that that had been what pushed her over the line. Just the thought was enough to make her stomach churn.

“I’ll bet, but you need to put some pants on.” El said with a grin and stood up. “We are meeting the boys for breakfast.”

Max groaned for the hundredth time, but begrudgingly slipped on her jeans from the night before and borrowed one of El’s sweaters. She may have felt like complete garbage, but some greasy food just might make it all better.

Hopper dropped them off at Benny’s, and they saw the boys sitting and laughing at a table as soon as they walked in.

The guys had all crashed at Mike’s house (because he had a basement they could hide how drunk they were in) and Lucas hard driven them all over. Mike looked pretty much normal, his hair was a bit messier than usual but El actually thought it was kind of cute, so she sat next to him and ran a hand through it. Will looked perfectly fine, but knowing him, he probably didn’t actually drink anything anyway. Dustin looked just as bad as Max felt. He had his hat pulled low over his face, and his shirt had a few red juice stains on the collar from his inevitable spilling the night before.

Max took her seat next to Lucas, who had been the designated driver. He only had one beer that he sipped all night, and the kid held his liquor pretty well anyway.

As the others chatted amongst themselves and looked over the menus, Lucas and Max slumped back against the soft vinyl booth behind them. Max liked the way the warm sun beat down on her neck, it helped subdue the chills that kept sweeping over her arms and the bile bubbling in her stomach.

“Hey there party animal.” Lucas smirked at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better.” She sighed. “I actually blacked out. It’s pretty embarrassing.” Max grimaced, sipping Lucas’s glass of water.

“You blacked out? That’s not good. Like you don’t remember anything at all?” He wore a look of strange disappointment that Max couldn’t quite place.

“Nope. The last thing I remember is Mike and El walking downstairs… and I have like a really vague memory of Dustin dancing on a table.”

“Yeah that happened alright.”

“I hope I didn’t do anything dumb like that. My biggest fear is like… drunkenly saying something I shouldn’t have.” Max chuckled. She looked up to see Lucas staring back at her with a wry grin and wide eyes.

“You mean like last night?” Lucas chuckled back.

“What!?” Max hissed, dread instantly knotting itself in her gut. What if she told someone about the Mind Flayer? Or El’s powers? Or got into a fight with someone? She was panicking. “What did I say?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Lucas smirked, looking at his nails nonchalantly.

“Lucas Sinclair, you tell me what I said right now!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, if she really had said something embarrassing, she didn’t want the others to hear. They were all too busy lost in their own reminiscence of the night before to hear anyway, but she wasn’t taking chances.

“You really want to know?” Lucas teased.

“Yes you ass, tell me.”

“Okay okay fine. So basically, after you threw up, I took you outside for some fresh air. We walked to the edge of the yard and sat on this little bench. You were going on and on and on about El, and how much you loved her, and how much you loved all of us but mostly it was about El. I mean mostly it was nonsense, but the parts that were actually English were about that. You get really sappy when you are drunk.”

“That’s it? I mean, that’s kind of lame, but it isn’t exactly a secret.”

“Oh no, that was only the beginning. After we sat for a little while, you asked me if I could keep a secret from Lucas.”

“I asked if you if you could keep a secret from yourself?”

“Yeah, and obviously I said yes. I was worried you were going to say you had cheated on me or something crazy like that-”

“Why would you ever think that? I would never do something like that!”

“I know I know, but it was weird that you forgot you were with me, and you were talking about me so cut me some slack.”

“Okay fair. Continue.”

“So I said yes, I can can keep a secret from Lucas, and then you went on to tell me.” He blushed a bit, and smiled. “You kinda… sorta… told me that you loved me. Like a lot. So much that you started crying.”

Max stared back at him in stunned silence with wide eyes. They had admitted they ‘loved’ each other a couple of years ago, when high school started, but it wasn’t something they said often. It was kind of an unspoken truth that they both just knew.

“That’s…. That’s pretty embarrassing but I mean… it’s still not a secret.” She tapped nervously on the table, becoming more aware that he wasn’t finished.

“Yeah I know, but it was kind of funny to see you all teary eyed and swooning about me like I wasn’t even there.” He chuckled. “And then, you continued and told me that you wanted to run away with me and uh… get married and live in California.”

This time Lucas was the one who looked bashful. In all honesty, she had thought about those things with Lucas. She never ever thought she would fall in love, or want to be somebody’s spouse one day, but here she was. It wasn’t serious, and she didn’t want it to be anytime soon, but it was something she thought about. Obviously drunk Max thought it was more pressing than sober Max.

“Oh…” She said, turning pinker by the minute. Lucas was still smiling, but he had to think she was a freak now. He just had to. “I’m… um sorry I said all that.”

“Did you mean it? Do you want to like… be together forever?” Lucas suddenly turned serious, he looked directly into her eyes and held her hand lightly.

She bit her lip, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to freak him out more than he probably already was. “I mean… Yeah. Of course I do. We don’t need to like… get married or anything crazy like that but… you are my best friend and I love you so…”

His face shifted back into a massive grin, from ear to ear. “Aww, Max, you totally love me. You wanna be Mrs. Sinclair one day, that’s so sweet.” He teased, pinching her cheeks and gushing.

She giggled and rolled her eyes, swatting his hands off of her face. “Or maybe I want you to be Mr. Mayfield.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “And you totally love me back, which is super lame.”

“Oh just admit it.”

“Admit what?” El asked from the other end of the table. Clearly everyone had stopped chatting and tuned in on their conversation at exactly the wrong moment.

“Nothing!” Max said quickly.

“Admit that she wants to marry me.” Lucas sung, fluttering his eye lashes and dramatically clasping his hand to his chest.

“God! I do not, shut up.” Max shoved him playfully and blushed even harder, if that was possible.

The rest of the group stared at them like they were crazy (aside from El and Will who added to the embarrassment with a collective ‘Awwwww’), but it was kind of sweet. Max didn’t let herself be very sentimental or romantic, even when she wanted to be. It was nice to see that somehow drunk Max had gotten her feelings out in the open, even if it was disgusting.

“I think i’m going to throw up again.” Dustin said completely deadpan, with his head still in his arms resting on the table.

Everyone paused, not knowing if he was serious or not. Then he lifted his head and had that signature Dustin grin that only meant he was joking, and he laughed. Laughed hard. So hard that it made the others start laughing too. Soon they all snorted and wheezed, and slapped their hands on the table and made a real ruckus in the middle of Benny’s at 10:30 in the morning.

Max was relieved that no one seemed to care too much about her embarrassing admission, because truthfully, she meant it. Every word. She turned to see Lucas chuckling beside her with that big dopey grin, and her heart twisted.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life with that dorky little Stalker. It was a plan she made then and there, silently, while she laughed with her friends, that they all belonged together. Every last one of them, and she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with her favorite people in the world. Drunk Max obviously knew it to be the case, so maybe it was time for sober Max to own up to it. She loved them, this little band of misfits, with her whole heart. Apparently so much that she cried.

And she couldn’t wait to marry her dorky, nerdy, totally a loser, painfully sweet, adorable, dweeb of a boyfriend.

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ogwnostalgia · 4 years

Text

Cover art by Mike Vosberg

Title: The Secret

Series: Tales From the Crypt

Original Airdate: July 31, 1990

Description: A 12-year-old orphan is adopted by a rich childless couple (William Frankfather and Grace Zabriskie) who harbor a dark secret. However, the couple themselves do not realize that the young orphan has a dark secret of his own.

Note: This wasn’t actually the cover photo I wanted to use, but every screencap I could find was way too spoilery. So instead, enjoy the episode art that the Cryptkeeper shows us going into the episode.

Nostalgia Time!

Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these full moon werewolf recaps, huh? I’m really slacking on them! But here we have the second of the two whole werewolf episodes Tales From the Crypt ever did, and like the other one, this one also has vampires. Well, who doesn’t like vampires with their werewolves, I guess.

So, I really dig this episode. I know I didn’t include it in my favorites list I published a while back, but for a while I had this episode on constant rotation. Due in part to Larry Drake, whose performances I always enjoy. (RIP. And seriously, he’s the only good thing about Dr. Giggles.) Vampires, werewolves, mysterious goings-on . . . yeah, this episode sells it hard.

Recap

We open, of course, with Cryptkeeper intro. He’s surprisingly sedate (for him, at least), and just makes a few Charles Dickens puns in reference to the copy of Oliver Twist he’s reading. He’s disappointed that there was no twist, because he had such Great Expectations. Yeah. Moving on.

The story opens on a dark and stormy night at the Gaines Orphanage. We follow a young boy in pajamas and a coonskin cap (because this is the 50s? Unclear.) sneaking down the stairs inside. We can hear one woman telling another that these boys can’t be trusted, and we fade out on their conversation as Coonskin Cap makes his way into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He grabs a chicken drumstick that’s just sitting uncovered by itself on a plate, and puts back just the bone a few seconds later. Ew?

The boy grabs an apple that is also sitting on a plate in the fridge for some fucking reason, and makes his way back out of the kitchen. We can now hear Older Woman telling Younger Woman that the boys cheat off each other’s papers, while Younger Woman protests that she’s never witnessed that. They move out to the room Boy is in as Older Woman says that they have to do something about Theodore – he’s way past the desirable age for adoption. From the indignant look on Boy’s face, we surmise that he is Theodore. He is also hiding pretty much in plain sight under a table.

Younger Woman wants to know what happened to his parents, and Older Woman snaps that she must never mention his parents, or his behavior problems! Well, okay. That’s not super suspicious or anything.

Then Theodore drops the apple, which rolls right up to Older Woman’s feet. Smooth, kiddo.

Older Woman (whose name is Miss Hagstead) drags Theodore out from under the table and accuses him of spying. Nope, he was just hungry, because he’s bigger than the other kids. Miss Hagstead orders Younger Woman to take him back to his room, “and make sure he stays there,” while brandishing a key. I’m pretty sure locking kids in their rooms at an orphanage violates fire codes or something, but sure. Asshole.

Younger Woman (now known as Miss Heather) walks Theodore upstairs while telling him the meal plan for tomorrow, because this kid is apparently a bottomless pit, and much like my little dog, extremely food-motivated. We transition to a shot of clouds revealing a full moon. No werewolf action yet, though. We’re only 4 minutes in, after all.

The next morning, Miss Heather frantically reports to Miss Hagstead that Theodore is gone and his window is open! Miss Hagstead is annoyed, not worried. He throws these temper tantrums sometimes and runs off for a few hours. Oh. Is it always during the . . . full moon . . . ?

Cut to the door opening and Theodore standing on the porch, covered in dirt. Miss Hagstead yells at him, then orders him to the kitchen to help Joey with the dishes. As he walks by, she complains that “it’s getting worse.” Oh . . . ?

Miss Heather rocks up and sends Joey out of the kitchen so she can tell Theo that some people are coming by later tonight and are very interested in meeting him. He knows what this means, right? Well, normally it could mean adoption and happily ever after, but this is Tales From the Crypt, so.

New Mom might have stolen that jacket from Cruella de Vil

Cut to these two weirdos showing up and telling Theo that he’s perfect and they’ll take him. Like he’s a puppy in a store window. Or a tasty veal cutlet at the butcher’s shop. (Spoilers?)

Theo asks what if he doesn’t want to go, and New Mom (Mrs. Colbert) tempts him with living in the lap of luxury – he’ll have his own bathroom and towels with his initials on them! Wow, just what every 12-year-old boy dreams of!

Miss Hagstead, on the other hand, is clearly using every ounce of self-control not to scream, “Now listen you little shit, you’re going! End of story!”

Oh, spoke too soon. Miss Hagstead pulls Theo off to the kitchen to “help her make tea” and proceeds to basically scream exactly that at him. He asks what happened to his real parents, and she says they died when he was just a baby, but refuses to provide details. She tells him the Colberts are “a little eccentric” but they’ll provide him with a lovely home and lots of good, sweet things to eat.

Okay, I was joking about Theo being like a food-motivated dog, but apparently everyone else was dead serious about it. Huh.

There’s a moody shot of Larry Drake, who is the Colberts’ . . . butler? valet? something? and then Theo staring moodily out the back of a car while Miss Heather and the Orphan Boys wave goodbye. Also, the lighting is so blue it’s almost impossible to see what’s happening.

There’s voice over from Mrs. Colbert as they drive away, talking about how wonderful Theo will have it at his new home, and she asks her husband, “Won’t it be wonderful having him?” He replies, “Mmm. Wonderful. Having him.” Yes, yes, this is normal, nothing to worry about!

They pull up to the house and holy shit everything onscreen is so blue I can’t tell what anything looks like, goddamn. Fortunately the interior of the house has normal lighting. I really don’t know what they were thinking with this fucking blue filter, but whatever. Theo comments that it looks like a museum, and as he reaches out to touch a huge . . . urn? vase? a Rottweiler rocks up out of nowhere to bark and growl at him. New Mom tells him he must never touch anything; some of these pieces are very old.

So. We have foster/adoptive parents who have things at touching-height that the kids aren’t allowed to touch, and the presence of Grace Zabriskie? Is this just Child’s Play 2 all over again?

The Colberts and Larry Drake show Theo to his room, which is huge and contains tons of toys, including a model train going around its track and blowing a whistle. Theo turns to thank them, but all the adults have exited the room and locked him in. He runs to look out the keyhole, where New Mom is telling New Dad that he’s been so patient, while Theo calls out asking why they’ve locked him in. They walk off, ignoring him, and now it’s time for Doggie Jump Scare! as the Rottie (Mrs. Colbert called Doggie by name, but I don’t have captions and I can’t for the life of me figure out what she called him) jumps at the door, barking and growling.

Theo falls backwards to the floor, and exclaims, “What did Mrs. Hagstead tell them?!”

Well, Theo, she wanted to get rid of you, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

Theo is woken up the next morning by Larry Drake, AKA Tobias, serving him breakfast in bed. Well, I suppose it’s breakfast in the technical sense of it’s breaking his fast, but it’s all sweets – cake, pie, when Theo asks for milk, Tobias offers him a milkshake. Ooh, does it bring all the werewolves to the yard?

Theo notices there are bars on the windows, and Tobias assures him that there are bars on all the windows – for security. Eh, that might have been weird in the (I’m still not sure but possibly) 1950s, but it doesn’t really raise many eyebrows today.

Cue a montage of Theo playing with all his new toys, and eating enough cakes, eclairs, pie, and milkshakes for it to qualify as a miracle he doesn’t go into diabetic shock. Nope, nothing to worry about here; this isn’t a Hansel and Gretel story, so you should be perfectly safe!

Cut to this new little family all walking around the estate together, and Theo asking why he has to stay in his room all day while the Colberts are at “work.” Mm, work, yes. Definitely work. New Mom answers that Theo is the most precious thing they have, and they can’t risk something happening to him. And Tobias is far too old to be chasing after him in the woods. Umm, Larry Drake was 40 when this episode aired. I turn 39 in less than two weeks. I feel very insulted right now. Not that I want to chase 12-year-olds around in the woods, but still. Very insulted.

Theo goes on to ask if they can go out sometime and do something together like a real family – a movie, roller skating, a ballgame? I’m trying to picture these weirdos on roller skates, and honestly, it’s kinda hilarious. Anyway, they claim they’re busy tomorrow planning a surprise for Theo. It’s a secret, though. Theo hates secrets.

Tobias stares pensively after them as he falls behind with Doggie. At least, I think he does. This blue filter is pretty much the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Cut to Tobias bringing Theo yet more junk food for lunch. Somehow, Theo isn’t dying of malnutrition yet. He asks if Tobias can come back and see him before dinner, and Tobias says he supposes he can stop by and they can play cards or something.

Cue the “Theo and Tobias become friends” montage.

Theo thinks about fun times he had at the orphanage with Miss Heather and his friends, and is suddenly . . . homesick, I guess it would be? Kind of? He asks where the Colberts are, and just as Tobias says they’re indisposed, they burst into the room with party horns and a birthday cake, yelling “Surprise!”

Theo is surprised, mostly because it isn’t his birthday. New Mom brushes it off – of course it’s not his birthday; it wouldn’t be a surprise if it was. Then they dish up about half the cake onto a plate for him, because they clearly want him to go into insulin shock. Theo’s not hungry because he had two boxes of Crackerjacks about an hour ago. Gross.

The Colberts tell Theo they’re going out to paint the town red. Yes. Yes, I bet you are. They call him “son” and tell him to open his presents and have fun with Tobias.

Cut to Tobias bonding with Theo as he tucks him into bed. Tobias was also an orphan who never got adopted; he agrees that Theo may call him “Toby” since Theo used to know a Tobias at his orphanage who went by Toby. Then Mrs. Colbert calls Tobias out of the room.

Later that night, Theo is woken up by the Colberts talking outside his door. New Mom says that this was her idea; she calls the shots; and she’ll say when their little orphan delicacy is ready for . . . whatever this is. They open the door and stare at Theo, who pretends to be asleep, and New Mom says she doesn’t think she can wait much longer. They’ll tell Theo their secret when they get home tonight.

I’m . . . sure it’s a fun secret, right? . . . right?

Time passes until it’s four thirty in the damn morning, and someone unlocks Theo’s bedroom door. Oh, it’s Toby! He rushes in to wake Theo up, telling him they have to get out of here. Theo moans that he doesn’t feel well.

Yeah, no shit. You’ve just spent what I’m about to guess is a full month eating roughly the same amount of sugar as Brazil exports in a year; what did you expect?

They start to make their way down the stairs, but are stopped by Mrs. Colbert, who looks considerably more vampish than we’ve seen previously. Apparently Tobias was promised immortality in exchange for his babysitting services, but he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want Theo to end up vampire chow.

Mrs. Colbert protests that his blood is so sweet now, and . . . okay. So, they’ve been feeding him nothing but sugar so that his blood will taste sweet to them? They’re vampires with a sweet tooth? That’s . . . okay. Sure. I mean, they couldn’t just get a mouthful of blood, pour some sugar on me in their mouths, and shake it around? Their plot seems overly complicated, is all I’m saying.

Anyway, Mr. Colbert appears out of nowhere on the stairs above Tobias, and bites into him while Theo laments his new friend’s demise. Theo jumps down the stairs and runs out the door as Mrs. Colbert sends Doggie after him, commanding Doggie to leave some for them.

Theo runs off into the woods; Doggie chases after; we’re shown a full moon as the Colberts join the chase, so I was right – it’s been a full month. A month of no food except sweets. I’m feeling sick just thinking about it.

Theo stumbles and falls as Doggie (it sounds like New Dad calls him “Lalitu”? “Laleetoo”? I don’t fucking know, y’all) catches up to him. The Colberts come out of the blueness darkness and we hear growling.

Theo is on his hands and knees facing away from the Colberts, and as they approach he tells them that now he knows what happened to his parents. You see, he has a secret too, and it’s better than the Colberts’. New Mom is the picture of condescending boredom, telling Theo that she’s sure he does. As Theo continues, his voice gets deeper and growlier. He turns around to reveal that he is a werewolf – with a taste for vampires!

I’m not quite sure how he would know that, but you do you, kiddo.

He leaps at Mrs. Colbert and rips her throat out (again, I think. This deep blue everything is a bitch for actually seeing what’s happening), then takes off after Mr. Colbert, who has started running away like a little bitch. Theo catches up to him, and he screams as we fade to black . . .

. . . and cut to the interior of the orphanage as someone pounds on the front door. Mrs. Hagstead opens the door to reveal Theo and Doggie on the porch. Theo tells her that he knows his secret now, and he thinks some things are going to change around here. He stares at her, and there’s wolf-face superimposed over his kid-face. Mrs. Hagstead is terrified, a wolf howls, and we fade to black again.

And then we get the Cryptkeeper’s wrap-up and exit puns. They’re not worth spending space on here. Sorry, Crypty.

Nostalgia Glasses Off

So yeah. This werewolf episode took basically the entire episode to werewolf. And to vampire, for what it’s worth.

So, what are we to believe did happen to Theo’s parents? We can assume they were also werewolves, right? Are we to believe they were killed by . . . werewolf hunters? Vampires? Buffy? Sam and Dean? The episode treats it like we should just know, and I really don’t.

I still like this episode a lot, but I think it’s fallen off of my favorites list. There’s not much to it when you boil it down.

Except diabeetus. This episode is full of diabeetus.

(Note: Wilford Brimley passed away the day after I finished this recap (including inserting these images), and a couple days before it was scheduled to go up. Weird coincidence. RIP, and thanks for the memes, sir.)

Well, it's another full moon, so you know what that means - time for a werewolf story! This month I recapped the Tales From the Crypt episode, The Secret! Can you guess what the secret is? I bet you can! (The secret is ... diabeetus!) Title: The Secret Series: Tales From the Crypt Original Airdate: July 31, 1990 Description: A 12-year-old orphan is adopted by a rich childless couple (William Frankfather and Grace Zabriskie) who harbor a dark secret.

#diabeetus is the real enemy #Full Moon Blowout #grace zabriskie #horror #kids are the worst #larry drake #recaps #Tales from the crypt #Television #the secret #vampires #werewolves

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