keepitjazzedup-blog

[domokunrainbowkinz]

龍年快樂WAHOO 🐉

[kissesinelevators]

After Dark Pt. 1

Synopsis: What do you do when there’s a man with fangs lurking in the shadows, swearing he can keep you safe but ever since he’s popped up in your life things just get worse? Change is weird and very permanent.

Pairing: Spider-Man 2099 x female reader

Word Count: 5,761

Genre and Warnings: Romance, Angst, Smut (eventually), Obsession, Violence, Stalking, Slow Burn (kind of)

18 + Part 2 3

Changes happen every day here. New York was called the Big Apple, you wasn’t sure why. You had never really seen an apple tree here. Things just don’t make sense. They never do.

“That will be $75.35.” You hand the invoice over the the shorter balding gentleman who had a mustache so great it looked like he was a bounty hunter.

“No, I was told over the phone it would be $20.” You turn around and grab his hung up coat that was neatly pressed and washed. You behind to unwrapped it from the plastic bag and presented it to him.

“Sir, there were a lot of bodily fluids along with other things.” A hint of disdain was clear in your voice. “We charge extra for that. Usually I can give you an accurate quote over the phone but sometimes I’m not told exactly what the issue is unto it gets here.” The older man shook his head and angrily took his card out of his wallet.

“Fine, but don’t charge me the card fee.” You take his card.

“I’m sorry sir but you know it’s .50 cents.” He grumbled under his breath as he gets charged out. You put the coat back in the plastic bag and hand it to him along with his card and receipt. “Have a wonderful day.” He takes the items from your hands and walked out.

You sigh and sit down at the counter of your store. You look around, and start thinking about how maybe you should really clean out the cobwebs in the upper corners of the store. Not that it was difficult but it was much higher up than you could reach even with the broom. You wonder if the spider living there would ever come by and say hi, or at least help you scare away the people who come by to hit up your store for free cash.

Your dry cleaners store wasn’t successful so to say, you couldn’t hire anyone else to help you. You practically lived here, might as well since there wasn’t enough to afford rent in New York as it was. The shop was passed down to you through generations of family members. Your parents decided to migrate back to their home country as the sentiment towards immigrants wasn’t exactly kind and they realised just how much they missed home. You had only ever known New York so that was your only sense of home so despite missing your parents terribly, you stayed behind. And now here you were, 7 years later. You swivel around in the chair of your countertop waiting for new customers. Not that there ever was any.

However, someone did come in after 45 minutes.

“Hello.” You look up from your phone and see a younger man. He looked like he was a teenager.

“Hello.” You reply, putting your phone away back into your pocket. “How can I help you?” The boy grabs his backpack and opens it, pulling out what appears to be a soccer jersey.

“My sibling accidentally spilled wine on my jersey and I have a scrimmage this weekend. I was hoping you were able to help me? I only have $40, will that be enough?” He nervously shifts under your eyes. You smile.

“$20 is more than okay.” He proceeds to hands you his jersey. “It will be finished by Thursday, tomorrow. Is that okay? Like around 11 am?” You take the jersey and hand him a number back as he gives you the crumpled up $20 bill.

“I get off school at like 3, can I pick it up afterwards?” You nod and put the cash in the register. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow after school!”

“You’re welcome.” You smile warmly at him as he walks out. You start to hang up the jersey behind you, putting on gloves to inspect the stain. Sure enough, it was a bright purple red maybe a few days old. It wasn’t going to easy as it had time to seep and stay there but you would try your best. As you started to make your way further to the back to grab some items to help facilitate the cleaning process, you hear a ring up to the front of your store. “I’ll be right there!” You call out and you grab your white vinegar.

No one responds.

Panic quickly enters your body like cold water shocking the system. You know who it might be.

Recently there had been an influx of robberies around the neighbourhood, armed. Usually though Spider-Man always seemed to be there right in time, conveniently you thought but he was never there when you would get hit. It made you feel uneasy about him. Like something was clearly wrong. The police was basically nonexistent in the part of New York. After all, he was here to protect, why didn’t he protect you?

You hear something heavy fall and you run out towards the front of your store. Sure enough, there was two guys in black baklavas who had knocked over your cash register.

“Hey stranger,” the taller one said with a smile in his voice. “Lou sends his regards. Also, he wants to know what’s going on with this week’s payment? It’s a bit late.” You walk over to the counter and look over, seeing the banged up register.

“I don’t understand why I’m paying weekly if I still get hit. Plus, this place doesn’t make much money, I’m going to lose the place soon.” You plead with the two men, tears clouding up your vision. You try your best to keep it in and stay calm but this wasn’t the first time they do this.

“You know the rules.” The other man speaks softly, more kindly. He kneels down and begins to pry open the register with a screwdriver.

You watch helplessly, allowing the tears to slip out. They don’t look at you while the register is opened forcefully and start counting the cash.

“There’s only like $120 in here.” The taller man points out angrily.

“I told you I don’t make much and you didn’t listen.” Thank god they were always after cash because otherwise you would truly be out on the streets.

“Boss won’t like it.”

You angrily wipe your face clean from the hot tears. “Well I don’t like it either so what can we do?” The other nicer man places your register back on the counter and puts the cash in his pockets.

“You have until Saturday.” He turns away to leave and pulls the taller guy away with him. As they exit the shop you see a shadow on the side of the buildings as it swims by.

Spider-Man.

But surprise surprise, the men who just robbed you don’t even flinch and walk out like nothing is wrong and you know that the tall bulky man cosplaying as some spider hero didn’t even bother to look. What else was new? You roll your eyes as you head to the door behind them and start locking the doors.

You begin to make your way towards the back again when you hear an aggressively loud knocking back in the front of your store against the glass windows. It honestly scares you.

You look back and see an older older, the same one from earlier that didn’t want to pay for his dry cleaning. The choice was to open the door and see what was wrong or walk away.

Why didn’t you just walk away?

You quickly run to the door and unlock it as he quickly slides himself in and shuts the door.

“Lock it please, LOCK IT!” The panic in his voice sends your heart in a frenzy and causes you to fumble with the locks.

“W-what’s wrong?” You almost scream at him in terror. He looks white, lacking of any colour and it’s almost scary because you can see the green and purple hues of his veins through his delicate aging skin of his face. You start to pull the curtains around the windows of the front of your store, your back turned to him when suddenly you hear a clicking sound behind your head.

Time stops, your hands feel numb as they stay in place, twisted in the curtains trying to pull them to the other side of the store to shield the view from within. Your breath hitches in your throat before it makes its way to your lungs. Your brain goes blank.

Things just don’t make sense.

You open your eyes, unaware of how or when you closed them. Something feels wet, your hair is the first thing you see as it is covering your face. But your vision blurs. There’s this pressure in your ears, a muffled like sound. But it starts to irritate you, as if a fly was stuck in there buzzing. You open your mouth and feel your jaw sore, extremely sore as you try to flex it. You suddenly feel liquid on your hands but you can’t yet see what it is. It feels warm but thick. Your knees then start to come into the picture of senses, you feel them raw almost, they’re against something that feels hard as if you were stuck in a box and couldn’t get up from it. Your back is rolled, almost like you’re a rollie pollie. What did you do this morning? What about later during the day? Wasn’t it almost 1 pm? The little boy’s jersey. You have to clean it. It was due tomorrow morning. No, he said he would be there by 3 pm tomorrow. Good, it gives you time to start it.

Ow, what was that?

The awful buzzing in your ears starts to get sharper and the pressure in your head starts to almost seep out through them. Suddenly you hear clearly, the pressure is gone and your eyes roll back into your head from the crash of it.

“Okay, pretty girl. Okay.” A male voice soothes you as a warm large hand makes its way up and down your back, caressing you. You instinctively push up against the hand, you didn’t know whether it was because you were trying to throw them off or leaning into it.

“Ow,” you inaudible gasp out, choking. You start to cough violently, the hand starts to rub circles into your back as you feel the roughness of the cough almost rip through your chest.

“Breathe.” The voice orders, firmly now. You try your best to breathe but your head is pounding more and more intensely.

You let out a pained whimper.

“Please.” The voice leaving you sounds almost inhumane.

“I know. I’m here.” The male voice gets closer to you. “I need to take you somewhere safe. May I?” You nod ever so slowly, fearing that even that movement will rip your brain out through your eyes. “Okay, I need you to hold onto me. You’re bleeding a lot.” The man puts his arms now under you, starts to carry you and puts you over his shoulder. The angle makes your brain scream. “Please knock out, please knock out.” You hear him pleas desperately under his voice. The screaming worsens and you sound realise it’s actually you, your mouth screaming. Eventually everything fades to black as you look at red and blue colours.

“Hey.” The male voice is back. You see darkness. Did you close your eyes again? When did you do that? “Shh, it’s okay.” A large warm hand comes into contact with your skin. “You’re okay.” Part of you wishes that was true. “Can you open your eyes for me, pretty girl?”

You suddenly remember that you can in fact just tell your brain to open your eyes and you do. You see a tall figure in the dimness of wherever it is that you are. Your eyes adjust to the lack of brightness and see a masked figure towering over you. Red and blue.

“You’re Spider-Man.” You manage to cough out.

“Yes I am. Okay so you’re kind of okay.”

“What happened to me?” You then realise you’re in a hospital bed. Why had you not noticed the beeping of the machine next to you?

“A man came into the store you were working at and decided to rob you at gun point. It seems like this was his first time ever because he attacked you first before anything.” Your hands quickly make their way to your head. “No, he didn’t shot you.” You feel bandages on the back of your head, feeling your stomach sink. “It seems like he first cocked his gun and then pistol whipped you but the idiot shot up into the building and scared himself. Your injuries are light despite how much blood appeared. Head wounds bleed more as you have many more vessels there.” He explains as you finger into the bandages terrified that the hospital staff had to shave your head to put these bandages on you. You couldn’t have bald spots! Not now! “You’ll be okay.”

You scoff.

“Wait so when did you get there?” You feel skin and immediately feel nauseous.

“I got there a few seconds afterwards, I heard the gunshot from a few miles away and got there as fast as I could.” You feel light as you pull your fingers out of the bandages around your head. Thank god he didn’t crack your skull.

“That’s a first.” You reply bothered.

He look down at you, a quick squint of his eyes takes place and disappears almost immediately causing you to wonder if you just made that up. Probably did since your brain wasn’t okay at the moment.

“What makes you say that?” You look out of the corner of your eye and see that the curtains are slightly drawn messily but it’s pretty dark outside. The kid’s jersey needed to be done.

“I’ve gotten robbed at my store more times than I can count. I have to pay someone else to supposedly protect my store but he steals from me too. I see you constantly helping everyone but you don’t help me.” You quickly look back at him and sign. “Didn’t. You didn’t help me. Thank you.” You push your hair out of your eyes. “I really appreciate it.” You try your best to sound genuine but you’re angry with him. It’s not his fault, he has a whole city to help, like over millions of people and you’re throwing a tantrum? “Hey I gotta go.” You start trying to get up from the hospital bed, the spill of the moonlight emitting from the poorly drawn curtains make the soft cream colour of the hospital sheets glow as you try your best to swing your legs out to the side of the bed. Spider-Man suddenly leans down and holds your nude legs in his hands, keeping you in place gently. The texture of his suit is almost silicone like, sticky. But the body heat emitting from his hands that engulf your claves feels good.

“No,” he whispers as he leans down closer to you, his towering figure now almost on top of you. With his other free hand he puts his fingers under your chin and directs you to look at him. “You need to stay here.” His breath smells of blueberries and honey for some reason. You close your eyes, inhaling. This was the first time a man had touched you in so long. How could you have forgotten how good it felt?

“But there’s a child’s soccer jersey that I need to fix. He needs it for his um-“ You rattle your brain, flustered and tripping over your words trying your best to concentrate but it’s proving to be difficult because this muscular man who smelled of musk, sweat, blood, and a hint of a certain cologne that induced butterflies in your stomach made it difficult for you to prioritise. “-his un, soccer thing.” The last words come out breathy.

Get a grip! You didn’t even know what he looked like!

The man’s glowing navy blue eye like part of his mask seemed to be staring deeply into your eyes. You felt strangely naked, all your expressions were out for him to see and you couldn’t even tell what he was thinking or feeling. You had to guess off his body language.

“I’ll get it for you if you truly want it that badly.” He almost hisses at you. You’re confused. Why was he angry all of a sudden?

“Oh, oh okay.” You meekly reply. He gently pushes your legs back onto the bed and lets go of you entirely, making you feel heavy on the bed.

“What does it look like?” He calls out as he starts to walk towards the window of your hospital. You doubt it opens.

“It’s red and white, it belongs to a teenager so it’s teenager sized?” You watch as he opens the window with ease. The realisation suddenly hits you.

Why was the curtain of the hospital room so messily closed? Did he bring you to the hospital and then sneak back in through the window to stay with you? The thought sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. But that couldn’t be it. Why would Spider-Man do that? That made no sense at all.

He swung out without saying a word, leaving you there in a now darker room with the window open, fresh air filled the room in his absence.

You stayed up, waiting for him to come back. The minutes turned to hours. A nurse came by to check on you and saw the window opened. She looked at the tablet in her hands and made an o shape with her mouth. She went over the window and closed it only slightly.

“We don’t want your friend to not be able to come back.” She says to you, who’s halfway between asleep and awake. She holds the tablet close to her chest and sighs. “You should have seen the way he fought to be with you through everything. But it was difficult since he is Spider-Man. Everyone wanted to come by and say hi.” She shook her head and made her way over to the machine next to you. “How do you feel, love?” You nod, unable to talk. “Do you feel any pain? Just give me a thumbs up if you do.” You don’t and she puts the tablet down by your legs. “Okay, that’s good. I’m going to just quickly run a few tests and then I’ll be out of here.” She takes a pen out of her pockets and clicks it causing it to shine. “I’m going to point it towards your eyes and I need you to follow it, I know you’re sleepy waiting for your friend to come back but I want to make sure there’s no concussion. Is it okay if I touch your face a bit?” You nod and she proceeds to put a hand under your chin and with her other hand, brings the pen flashlight up to each eye. “Okay, follow the light.” You do as she says, almost enjoying the soft touch from her, the whispers, the light of the pen dilating your eyes making them even more tired. After she’s done with the eye exam she moves onto another test. “I’m going to move you a bit so I can check your breathing. Is that o-“ suddenly the window is opened from outside.

You both look towards the window and in comes in your knight in shining armour with a jersey in his hand. The nurse looks back at you, ignoring him as he closes the window shut and messily half shuts the curtains allowing the moonlight to be the only light source in the room besides the soft glow of the beeping machine next to you. It’s not dark though, it’s just oddly comforting.

“Okay, is it okay if I place my hands on your back and chest?” The nurse goes right back to her professional self as if the most famous hero didn’t just come in through the window. You like her.

“Yes.” You manage to say. She listens for your breathing and your heart beat.

“I think we can do more later on, I’ll let you sleep.” She turns to your guest who’s now made his way to the foot of your bed. “Reminder that we don’t allow family members or guests in the hospital floors after 8 pm. Sir, it is almost 1 am.”

Spider-Man shrugs.

“I just want to make sure she’s fine.”

She looks at him, then at you.

“Do you want him here?”

You nod.

“I won’t cause any problems.” He says as she picks up the tablet and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her quickly. “I like her.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Did you get it?” He walks up to you and holds up the jersey proudly.

“I did better than that, I got the stain out myself.” His voice is dry but it’s clear he was proud to show his work. Your eyes soften and you are taken aback by his action.

“Wow, thank you. I don’t know what to say.” He noticed you starting to reach your hands out so he places the shirt by you for you to inspect.

“Yeah well, thank you was more than enough.” He clears his throat as you grab the shirt and touch it, looking at it to see any imperfections left behind. “I know a bit about chemicals and whatnot so I did my best.” He sounded pretty cocky to you but he was genuinely trying to make it seem like it wasn’t anything to him which okay, maybe was pretty cocky of him.

“Wow, maybe I should hire you.” Your voice is flat.

“Hey so I never got your name and unfortunately the doctors and nurses didn’t want to tell me much about you or your condition since we aren’t related or married. Your nurse was kind enough to look the other way when I came by afterwards looking for you and even now she’s being kind.”

“My name is (Y/N). What’s yours?” Spider-Man starts to sit down next to you in your hospital bed. Your cheeks start to burn. Here you were, technically in bed with a superhero but you were wearing what appeared to be a medical gown which meant that your ass was probably out. You cringe mentally at the thought.

“Spider-Man or you can call me friend as the nurse keeps receding to me. YOUR friend that is.” He chuckles as he tries to not take up much space next to you but fails. You didn’t know what he was thinking by trying to squeeze his big hunky self into this tiny hospital bed with you. He quickly got off and instead sat by your feet. “I should probably let you sleep though. It’s really late and I wouldn’t feel okay with myself if I left you here alone awake anyways. I’ll be back tomorrow before you wake up.” Why was he allowing himself to get involved with you? Was it the fact that you basically insulted his ego earlier about how he didn’t actually help people like he thought since you went by unhelped and alone for so long before he took notice? It had actually weighed down on him heavily. Usually he wasn’t one to let things get to him personally because he wasn’t a teenager anymore much less a 20 something year old doing this for a few years. He has been at the superhero business for a long time now actually but it still bothered him that you thought so lowly of him. Yes, he did deserve it but why was he trying to go above and beyond to make you believe otherwise?

“Oh, you’re leaving?” He puts a hand on your shin and nods. “But you’ll be back? Why?” He feels annoyed now. Did you not want him to come back? Should he just fuck off and never return? But he kept his composure.

“Yeah, I doubt you have family members here who will pick you up from the hospital. It looked like you’re living at the dry cleaners so I want to make sure you’re good. You know, to make up for my lack of protection for all of New York’s citizens.” The last part came out a bit sarcastic but he didn’t care anymore.

“Oh.” You quietly say as you look away. “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Spider-Man.” He nods and gets up. He starts to make his way to the window when he decides to look back at you for a moment. A ghost like tear makes its way down the side of your cheek, translucent to the human eye but not to his. He wants to stay and comfort you strangely enough but he decides it’s better not. Just because he couldn’t save you before doesn’t mean he had to make it up to you. He had other responsibilities, many!

He opens the window quietly and swings out again.

Miguel feels lost in his head as he webs his way through the night between buildings. You had reopened a very old wound for him. When he first started off as Spider-Man, there was no one there for him. It felt like that city hated him at first for being such a nusciance to it. He messed up a lot. Like a lot. He would not help right the people at first, he didn’t know exactly how to train himself or limit himself with his new found strength. It was quite difficult. With time, he found himself doing better but again, it took time. And he overcame that part of his ice so many years ago, so why was he feeling like the lost dumb teenager he once was?

Miguel snarled almost in frustration and before webbing onto another building, he reach out with his claws and started to climb up further up. He clawed his way all the way to the top of the brick building, pieces coming off. He had to stop doing that, the city was bound to invoice him for the damages at some point. He shook his head as he quickly scaled further up. He finally stopped at the top and sat there.

A hand came up and ripped his mask off him, he angrily sighed as he crumpled up the mask in his hands. He leaned his head down and closed his eyes. There was no need for her to be so, so ungrateful! He felt the emotional turmoil in his chest, he could see behind his eyelids the electricity of his suit getting stronger.

“Calm down.” He lowly says to himself as he tries to take deeper breaths in. This wasn’t even his original dimension, he only came to the one because there was no Spider-Man in it. No one else wanted to do it because they were too busy which was his fault. He didn’t give any time to spare to the other Spider-Men in his group. Why would he? There was a teenager causing issues through the multiverse, how was he suppose to let anyone relax and take time off?

You woke up with a start. Anxiety filled you quickly, your breathing became labores, the machines around you started going off like crazy and the incessant buzzing triggered you worse.

A nurse came running in and immediately came over you.

“What’s wrong? You can’t breathe?” He quickly adjusts the bed to lay down as you look at him with panic eyes, your hands make their way to his and you hold his wrists, begging him to look at you. Where were you? What happened? He stops what he’s doing and the look in his eyes melts into understanding. “Oh, you’re here in the hospital.” He holds your hands in his and lifts them to his chest and gives you a squeeze. “You’re safe.” You start to relax, he starts to loudly breathe and you follow suite.

“I’m-im sorry,” your voice a mere whisper. He smiles softly at you and shakes his head.

“It’s okay. You’re safe here.” He turns around slightly to look around the room as if he were looking for someone. “Your friend left?”

“Who?” You close your eyes and shake your head slightly.

“Mr. Spider-Man?” You open your eyes and remember. He in fact did come back last night after you had cried. He didn’t make a noise but the window made a creek which woke you up but you didn’t move. But when did he leave? Had you fallen asleep again afterwards?

“I don’t know.” The nurse gave your hands a final squeeze and set them down onto your lap. He began to adjust your bed into a sitting position.

“You know, he’s like a runaway right now.” He quietly tells you, almost like he’s gossiping. “He is not allowed to be here at all, goes against all laws and hospital policies but he saved my dad when he suffered a heart attack, he brought him here just in time and it saved him. He’s a good friend to us all.” He smiles. You look at him and see just how happy he seems telling that story, as if it were the best thing in the world which it is, his dad is alive and well. But you can’t help but feel a bit of a childish envy crack in you. You couldn’t even look at the police because it was their job first to help and they never did. But Spider-Man? Whatever. You give him a small smile.

“I’m glad your dad is here with us still. But he’s not my friend. When can I go home?” The nurse raises his eyes brows.

“Today, later on in the afternoon. We just need to make sure you’re okay. It was a bit of a nasty hit to the back of your head.” He motions for you to lean forward and starts to remove the bandages. “It looks fine, no more bleeding. I’m going to apply new bandages okay? I’ll be back.” You nod as he walks out and closes the door behind him. However as he closes the door, you see your familiar so called friend standing there.

“Were you there behind the door this whole time?” He give a nod. “Okay, why did you hide?” Spider-Man starts to slowly make his way towards you, his tall built figure makes you almost shrink back into bed, he looks almost animal like the way he stalks over to you with his massive size.

“I didn’t hide.” He states coldly. “I merely let your nurse give you the attention you deserve.” His eye lenses on the mask slightly close as if he were squinting at you and crosses his arms. “Can’t be taking all the attention away from you, princess.” He lets out a deep chuckle.

“I guess not. You’re so kind.” The sarcasm in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him as his fingers slightly twitch from your tone. Keep it together, he thinks to himself. “Look, can you just swing me out of here so I can go home and do what I need to do? I have a business to run, it’s my only livelihood and I promise a boy his jersey.” You starts to pull yourself up and move to get out of the bed. Within seconds with what seems to be inhumane speeds, Spider-Man is right next to you holding your legs in his hands. He turns his head to you.

“I can have my friend give it to him.” Why would you say that?! He thinks to himself angrily. “You take the day off, I’ll have him open shop for you so your clients can at least pick up their stuff.” Now who was he suppose to assign to this? It’s not like he could tell anyone to do it because then they would know he was doing something he wasn’t suppose to, the only person who knew was his assistant, Layla. And she was forbidden to come through when he was in this dimension.

Seems like his friend was going to have to be him.

“Why would you do that?” You pull your legs from out of his hands and move away to come off the bed on the other side. You finally stand up and immediately stretch. He watches you from behind, admiring how catlike you were during your stretches. Suddenly he sees a bit of skin peeking though from behind. “Like what you see?” He immediately looks away and you smile. You knew he was watching, not that it mattered.

“Because I’m your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, that’s why I would do that. Plus he kind of owes me.” He did in fact own himself this, he didn’t want to destroy yet another dimension but he quickly began to talk to occupy himself from thinking of the other one. “You know, if you really want to leave, you can right? No one is holding you here against your will.” It came out a bit harsher than he intended. You turn back to look at him over your shoulder and roll your eyes. What a dumb boy.

“Look, Spider-Man,” you turn to face him now. “You need to realise that it’s not usual for a man, idk who you are because I don’t know you, a strange man to be in another woman’s hospital room. I’m basically naked.” You start to tie the cords of the hospital gown tighter. However he doesn’t move or make any indication of it bothering him.

“If that’s how you feel, that’s your right. I’ll leave you alone and have my friend at your place soon. I still have your keys, but your clothes and other personal items are over there.” He jerks his head towards the direction of a table in the room where there’s a bag. “I’ll be on my way now. I’ll catch you around.”

“Do you even know my name?” He was in mid turn away from you when you asked which stopped him. He thinks for a second. “It’s (Y/N). Thank you for everything. I truly mean it.” He nods once and turns to the window, opening it. He begins to slid out when he stops again.

“The name of the guy who will be at your store is Miguel. He’s a friend.” And with that, Spider-Man leaps out.

(A.N., so my boyfriend is our beta reader, lmk if he caught all the grammar problems lol and this is my first fanfic so please be gentle with me. I just couldn’t find any fanfics that were story based off Miguel and I couldn’t help but make one, I just love that man and I love being hurt by love lol)

[batfamily-brain-rot]

Still Standing (Jason Todd x Reader)

Made this a year ago, I'm finally putting this onto tumblr cause I'm working on a fan comic and I may take elements of this for the comic but I'm not sure yet. Anyways if you guys want me to write more things like this or if you do want this to become a part or even a prequal to the fan comic (which already has a name that's currently secret) let me know.

(Inspired by @ohboi_ohboi on tiktok who asked for someone to write a fic on there idea. Reader hating on jason todd for being a spoiled wiseass, while jason todd laughs his ass of knowing the reader has Red hood merch I got a little bit of soft angst in there but don't worry I bring the humor back in. I also wrote this in an hour, I swear I blacked out and woke up to a 1000 word fic... I may write more for this later and may clean it up more but it is almost 2 am right now and I have a final to do tomorrow morning.)

(Reader Pov) 

It was slow that day at the cafe, the sun had begun to set as I began to shut down the cafe early. That's when this asshole came in, fifteen minutes before closing… Again.

“Hey, would you look at that, my favorite barista is working tonight!” Jason smirked as he made his way to sit on ‘his’ stool by the front counter.

“I just wiped that counter down, asshole.” I rolled my eyes, “Let me guess, your usual?”

He faked a gasp, “Do you talk to all your loyal customers like this?” he laughed at his own joke as he pulled out the same beat up copy of classic romance anthology, “and yeah my usual.” 

I grabbed the cup I had already made previous to his arrival, “here.” 

“What, did you miss me so much that you had my order ready for me?” he slid over a fifty and winked, “Keep the change.” 

I scoffed and took the fifty, “Ha you wish dick weed, that was actually going to be mine. We just seem to have the same order.” I broke the fifty and put the amount he own into the cash register and pocketed my ‘tip’

“You know, for someone that hates me coming in you sure don’t mind the tips I leave.” he laughed before taking a sip of his coffee.

I raised a brow, “Listen here money bag, the only reason I tolerate you coming in this close to closing and staying so long after is because of your tips.” I rolled my eyes as I began to close out the register, “And for someone who always brings a book you never seem to get much reading done. Trying to sound out the words? Maybe you should have your daddy get you a tutor.” 

He closed the book and leaned his head on his hand, “I’ve read this anthology fourteen times already, I bring it as an excuse to why it takes me so long to finish my coffee.” 

“Don’t you have a library in that manor you live in? Can’t you read something else?” I brought the money into the back and put it in the safe before returning, “And what takes you so long to finish then?” 

“I enjoy the classics, it's comforting to read something you know the end to.” he takes another sip of his coffee and takes a moment to answer, “I like our talks.” 

“Well I don’t so can you hurry it up? I’m sure your butler needs to tuck you into bed or something.” I sat on the stool at the end of the counter, about three stools away from him.

“Ha now that's a good one I’ll have to write that down.” he rolled his eyes and shifted in his chair to face me, “What is it that drives you so insane about me? It can’t just be my good looks, is it my winning smile and bad boy facade?” 

“Ah so you admit it's a facade?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, “It pisses me off you go around flaunting your money while everyone else in the city has to try and stay afloat with multiple jobs and dodging the idiots who cause chaos for everyone.” 

I hung up my apron and grabbed my Red Hood jacket from the coat rack. When I turned my attention back to him he had a shiteating grin on his dumb face.

“Oh what now dipshit?” I sat back down and waited for whatever shit he was about to spew from that pretty mouth of his. 

“Oh it's nothing… Just find it interesting you’re a fan of red hood… that's all.” he took another sip to stifle his laugh. 

“And so what if I am? He’s the only one that actually realizes some people are better off dead.” I groaned and crossed my arms, “Let me guess your one of those batman cultists who think that everyone deserves a chance to change even when they’ve blown through hundreds of chances to change.” 

His face scrunched up as he tried not to laugh, “Oh god no. I wouldn’t say I’m a fan of Red Hood but trust me… I fully support and believe in his ways.” 

I squinted trying to figure out what was so funny about all of this. I sighed and checked the time before looking back up to him, “It's officially ten minutes after closing can you hurry up?” 

He took a long slow sip before setting the coffee down and kicking his legs up on one of the stools between us. I sharply kicked the stools towards him causing him to tumble back, he tried to catch the counter but hissed in pain before hitting the floor. 

He loudly groaned as he sat up and rubbed his shoulder. 

“I am so sorry, usually you catch yourself. I didn't think you were actually going to fall.” I made my way over to him, “Are you alright?”

A loud pop came from his shoulder as he pressed on it, “it's fine, just a shoulder injury.” he laughed as I helped him up, “rough housing with my brother went a little too far and we went down a flight of stairs.” 

“How are you walking around jesus christ are you a tank?” I stared at him, I felt my face scrunch up in confusion.

He chuckled, “I have been working out thank you for noticing.” he rolled his eyes, “You know, paid a personal trainer with my dads money.” 

“Ugh I hate you so much.” I crossed my arms and fixed the stools, “I should kick you back onto the floor.” 

“And yet I’m still standing.” We sat next together in silence for a moment as he drank his coffee. 

“I was practically homeless as a kid.” his words were unsure as he stared distantly ahead of him, “Had to steal to make sure my mom and I could eat… I tried to steal the rims off of Bruce’s car and he decided to adopt me instead of pressing any charges.” he laughed a bit, “Like who does that?” 

My eyes widened as I stared at him, “I had no idea.” 

“Why would you?” He finished off his coffee and looked at me, “I give large tips and flaunt what money I have because I remember what it's like to be poor. I don’t know if the money will last, if Bruce gets tired of the issues I bring, it can get taken away… just poof gone… I can help people now, I can have a little fun now too, why not do it now just in case you know?” 

I placed a hand on his shoulder, “well that explains a lot… you have daddy issues.” 

[whump-mania]

Hello :)

I know it’s been like……..almost a year since I’ve posted here! But I’ve been very busy (I promise I’m not dead!) I’ve also been generally unmotivated with whump stuff lately, so that’s the major reason I haven’t been posting.

However, I did have a little spark of inspiration lately, and I did want to get one little story out. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m back: I might pop in and out now and again.

Anyways, here’s my one-shot (maybe two-shot) under the cut! Hope you enjoy!

(tw: beating, mugging, blood, very slight homophobia, cursing)

The ring wasn’t all that pretty, Nicky thought. It could be cheap costume jewelry, for all he knew. But apparently, this thing costed a fortune, and that’s why he had it in his hand.

Nicky McAllister had a few bad habits. All of them were to provide for his family, of course—if his little sister Penny and sort-of-friend, sort-of-lover (he had no clue anymore) Ivan counted as family. How else was he supposed to get cash in their situation? Stealing and trading was all that was available for a young man with no other connections in this city.

Nicky threw the ring up in the air and caught it a couple of times in his hand. The gem was bright red, probably a ruby (he didn’t know, nor care), and the band was a matte gold. The one thing that interested him about the tiny thing was the engravings around the inside of the band. Little vines with leaves and thorns. He wondered about the ring’s possible history absentmindedly as he strolled to the agreed-upon meeting spot. Soon, that little ring would be exchanged for a wad of money. Enough to feed himself, Penny, and Ivan for a month. He needed this.

Nicky stopped at a corner in the alley, reaching into his pocket to examine the crumpled up sheet of notebook paper once again. He was in the right place, that was for sure—the alley on fifth street in the abandoned town next to the city—but no one was there. Nicky rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. He waited, staring at the yellow sky, for minutes on end. For how urgent the letter had been about the trade, he didn’t think the buyer would have the nerve to be so—

“Late! I’m late! My bad, kid!” A voice broke through Nicky’s thoughts. He lifted his head to see a man jumping the fence nearby, followed by two other, larger ones. The man, who looked about ten years older than him, didn’t seem at all bothered by his own tardiness—he was carefree as ever, hands stuffed in his pockets as the other two men flanked him.

Nicky shoved the paper back in his pocket. “Took you long enough,” he muttered. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the other men with him, gesturing to them. “What, you scared of me or something?”

The man laughed. “Nah, just precaution. I don’t believe we’ve met—I’m Marty Hughes.” Marty held his hand out, and Nicky shook it hesitantly. He wanted to get this deal over with, not make a friend.

“…Nicky,” he replied shortly, ending the handshake as soon as necessary. “Anyway, I’ve, uh…” He reached in his pocket, holding the ring, but not removing it just yet. “I’ve got the ring.”

Marty smiled. “And I’ve got your money. Look at that! All the two things we need for a trade.” He held his hand out and one of his bodyguards put a small satchel in his hand. He opened it and revealed a bundle of money.

Nicky’s eyes went wide. A break from stealing and bartering, even if only for a little while, was extremely enticing. Trying to keep neutral and hide his anticipation, he removed the ring from his pocket and held it out.

“Here.” Nicky stepped forward a little, eager to get the trade finished. “I’ll hand it to you, and you give me the money at the same time. Standard practice.”

Marty chuckled. “So serious. Talking like it’s the end of the world or something.” The other men laughed along with him as he shook his head and stepped forward.

Nicky tried not to roll his eyes. For him, not getting this money WAS the end of the world. Biting back his annoyance, he stood across from the older man with the ring.

He expected the trade to go agonizingly slow or straight-up wrong, but surprisingly to Nicky, it went smoothly. Marty handed him the money just as Nicky handed him the ring.

“See? Easy as that. No need to be all worked up, Nick. Pleasure doing business.” Marty patted Nicky on the shoulder a couple of times. Nicky cringed at the gesture, but he brushed it off and began counting his money.

“Yeah. Pleasure,” he muttered. He was just glad to have his money and be out of there.

Except, something was wrong.

Nicky turned around, having counted his money. “Hey,” he announced, stopping Marty and his men. “This isn’t the amount we agreed upon.” He held up the bundle of cash. “This is 250. We agreed on 400.”

Marty, still with his infuriating grin, turned around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you go to school? Don’t you know how to count?” He taunted.

“This isn’t a joke!” Nicky yelled, finally fed up with the man. He approached the three again. “You may have the money to fool around like this, but I don’t! I have to feed myself with this!”

“Then 250 should be just fine,” Marty replied calmly. “Look, kid. You seem new to this business. How many trades have you done? Two? Three?”

Nicky didn’t humor the man’s conversation. “Give me my money. I don’t have time for this.”

“This happens all the time!” Marty continued. “Every good barterer knows that whatever the agreed amount is can…slip a little.”

“I’ve been trading for months,” Nicky bit back. “And this has never been an issue. You’re just a crook.”

Marty raised an eyebrow and snorted a laugh. “I’m the crook?” He took the ring from his satchel. “How do I know this isn’t a fake, huh? You’ve been in the business for so long, how do I know you’re not the scammer?”

Nicky stared at the ring in Marty’s hand. A million thoughts and possibilities ran through his head. He could hear Ivan reprimanding him, and Penny egging him on. What consumed him most, however, was his anger. Whatever rationality he had went out of the window.

He swiped the ring from Marty’s hand, shoved it and the money in his pocket, and ran.

Nicky almost tripped as he turned the sharp corners of the alley. He bolted for the streets of the abandoned town, praying he didn’t forget the route out of the alley. He heard three steps of footsteps behind him. He didn’t dare look back.

Nicky faced the fence that led him to the streets and quickly hopped up to climb it. His foot got stuck for just a moment, sending a jolt of panic through his body, but he got it loose and jumped down. He heard the rattling of the others climbing it soon after, followed by the thuds as they hit the ground. Shit—they were faster climbers than him.

Nicky dashed through the streets, heading for the road that would lead him back to the city. At least with more people around, he’d be able to save himself somewhat.

As he ran, he felt something small hit his back. “Ow!” He yelled out, and quickly looked behind him. Marty’s bodyguards had rocks, picked from the cracked asphalt of the street. A jagged piece nearly missed his head. Nicky cursed and kept on running.

Another piece hit his back, then his shoulder, then his neck. They slowed Nicky down, but it didn’t stop him. At least, not until a particularly large chunk of concrete hit the back of his knee. He yelled out and his legs buckled, sending him to the ground.

“Months as a trader, and you pull something like that?” Nicky heard Marty’s voice approaching. He scrambled to get up, but his bodyguards were too quick. They held each of his arms, holding him at eye level with Marty.

“See, rats like you are why I bring backup,” Marty said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t have taken it if you were a fair trader!” Nicky spat, struggling and pulling against the men. “You’re the rat!”

Marty looked Nicky up and down for a moment, his smile faltering a little. He sighed and decidedly stepped back. “Beat him and take his things,” he ordered.

“Wait—” Nicky had no time to prepare before he was thrown roughly back to the ground. The two larger men began kicking him, leaving no part of his body unharmed. One of them knelt down to use his fists instead. Marty watched, the smile having returned to his face.

When Nicky was bruised and bleeding to Marty’s liking, the men stopped. They handed Marty Nicky’s belongings—the money, the ring, and his wallet. The two men held Nicky up again.

“There’s nothing in there,” Nicky croaked weakly, trying to keep his head up. The sound of blood dripping from his nose sickened him. “Please, my wallet, lemme have it back, t-there’s nothing in there.”

Marty ignored Nicky’s pleas and filed through the pockets of the old leather, finding no money. “Huh. You’re right, you’re dead broke. You really did need this cash, didn’t you?” He kept skimming through until he found a small, grainy photograph. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” Nicky yelled, as much as he could. “It ain’t yours. Leave it!”

Marty examined the picture. “Well, isn’t this a nice little photo? That one in the middle looks like you…and who’s this pretty little thing?”

“Give it BACK, you maniac!” Nicky wanted the man’s eyes off of Penny. Off of the whole photo. It was his. It was private.

“And this other boy…sure doesn’t look enough like you to be a brother.” Marty smirked and peered up at Nicky.

Nicky swallowed. “He’s my—a friend, he’s a friend, just—just give it back, it’s no use to you!” That photo meant more to him than money. Those two were his world.

“Must be a real good friend to have a picture of him on ya.” Marty chuckled dangerously and stuck the picture back in the wallet. He threw it at Nicky’s chest, and the men dropped him.

Nicky crumpled to the ground, quickly grabbing his wallet and holding it close to him. Before he was able to stand up again, his hair was suddenly grabbed and his head was wrenched up. He only had a moment to see Marty’s face before he punched him back to the ground one more time.

Nicky groaned, holding back tears as he listened to the three men walk off with his money and the ring, laughing to each other at their success. He should have just taken the money, he thought. He’d be going home with nothing. Tasked with stealing some other expensive artifact.

Slowly, he made his way home before dark—as much of a home as it was, anyway. He lived with his family in a small portable shack they’d found in a trashyard. It was shelter enough for them.

He knocked a specific rhythm on the door and waited for the door to open. He heard footsteps quickly approach, and the door opened to reveal his sister, who gasped at the state of him.

“Don’t ask,” Nicky grumbled, pushing past her and collapsing on one of the mattresses.

“Of course I’m gonna ask, idiot!” Penny retorted. “What happened to you?!”

Nicky stared at the ceiling, saying nothing. When he felt himself tearing up again, he sighed and rolled over. “Where’s Ivan?”

“Not important. What happened?” Penny demanded, sitting on the mattress next to him.

Nicky swallowed and tried not to let his voice waver. “I fucked up. They skimped on the cash, I got mad, and I tried to take the ring back.” He sat up and gestured to his beaten face. “This is what I got. They took the money, too.” He slumped back down, ashamed of himself.

Penny looked down at her brother. “We…we’ll be fine. We’ll live,” she told him, trying to stay optimistic. “You stood up for yourself, right? That’s good. You wouldn’t—” She paused to cough. “…Wouldn’t let them cheat you.”

“But they did,” Nicky muttered, his voice muffled by the mattress.

“Well fuck ‘em,” Penny said back, crossing her arms. “I would’ve done the same if they tried scamming me.” She put a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Ivan’s out trying to get some food.”

Nicky sat back up. “Buying, or stealing?”

Penny looked to the side. “Um…well, we’re broke, so…”

Nicky groaned. “Ivan’s horrible at stealing. Why didn’t you go?”

“He insisted!” Penny threw her arms up. “He thinks I’m still sick. I mean…I am, but I’m well enough to go get food.”

“Whatever…let’s just hope he doesn’t get as banged up as I did.” Nicky lied back down and closed his eyes. He ruminated on his failure, still hating himself for letting the man get away with the money. Someday, he’d get back at him. Until then, he waited for Ivan to get back, coming up with a way to explain his face once again.

[bunnyboowrites]

𝓮𝓵𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷

  ♡ (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.

Cat burglar Nami x BlackFem!reader

Prev / Next

(Y/N) would come to find out that the address that was sent was a nightclub, super exclusive. Bon Clay was rifling through their closet trying to find something for her to wear. 

       “Honey, only the most famous of famous hang out in THE Den Donquixote” they said picking up a black colored mini dress but ultimately threw it in the no pile “I mean im an influencer and i know famous people but never famous enough to get off that waiting list, you have to look absolutely perfect. What if you meet a hot guy and hes super rich” They gasped “What if im right and Nami wants to rub her body parts all over your body parts” 

       “Ew Bonnie, never say it like that ever again.” she crossed her arms and sat back on their bed “And second she doesn't think of me that way, she wants a full-time makeup artist.” Bonnie just shook their head and picked a pink mini-dress out of their closet. 

        “I bought this and it turned out to be too small and i forgot to return it, but it would look perfect on you my little hunny bunny~” They handed her the dress and she sighed and went to go pick some shoes from her room. Upon her return Bon Clay set up the hair products and makeup products they needed. 

    (Y/N) had already been through the torturous process of waxing basically her entire body and Bonnie had not been nice about it. They did her nails; a full new set in white and her toes too. She felt like their doll and now that they were dressing her up she was glad the torture was over. 

     “Youre gonna need a thong and some boob tape” she rolled her eyes, the relief was short lived. She squeezed into the dress after the preparation and she felt sexy, she smiled at Bonnie and giggled when they hugged her from behind. Her shoes making her almost their height. 

     “We have to take a picture before i go alright?” she hugged their arms closer to her “and next time ill bring you with me and we can have fun dancing all night and drinking fancy liquor” they started to sway Bonnie nodded and pulled their phone out of their pocket. Snapping a mirror selfie of them hugging around her waist, they sent the photo to her and clasped their hands together. 

       “My job here is done, go have fun my little one” they said with a bright smile, she blew a kiss and grabbed her clutch with extra cash and a extra battery pack to charge her phone just in case and anything else she mightve needed before walking out of the apartment. She was surprised to see a black suv, the window rolled down revealing a familiar red head. She was wearing a white asymmetrical top and matching pants.

       “Are you ready?” she motioned for the driver to open her door while she scoot over to make room for the other woman. (Y/N) climbed into the back seat and took in her surroundings and saw that there was someone in the front seat with the driver and a person on the other side of Nami. 

      “Nami, my love who is this beauty you invited?” the blonde spoke from the front seat, she could feel a bit of disgust fill her from the smell of his cigarette. “My name is Sanji sweetness whats yours?” Nami rolled her eyes and flipped him off. 

     “She works for me and she doesnt want to talk to such a slutty man.” she spat as she put her hand into (Y/N)s lap. She felt her legs tense and close around her hand and she looked to her “You okay (Y/N/N)?” she whispered with a teasing tone 

        “Im fine Nami, thank you for inviting me. Remind me to get pictures with you before we mess it all up” she looked over at the redhead and chuckled “im only gonna post the ones with Bonnie though, so i’m not posting and you don’t want to be posted” she turned the phone toward Nami, the picture that she took with them all hugged up together. Nami could feel the jealousy, but she had to reminder herself that (Y/N) didn’t like her in that way; she was here to work. Though she couldnt help but be surprised when a hand moved on top of hers she gave a glance and smiled.

    When they were finally there (Y/N) couldn’t help but be intimidated, especially about what Bonnie had said about Den Donquixote. It was supposedly also a secret exclusive sex club beneath the establishment. She thanked the driver as he helped her get out of the car and safely onto the black velvet carpet. Nami grabbed her hand and then there was yelling and flashes. A Man with green hair was walking infront of the, shielding them from the onslaught of paparazzi, once they were being led through the thick double doors she could hear Nami dismiss Zolo? Zoro? (Y/N) watched as he walked to the car and it pulled off. 

        They were guided to an area that had a booth, it was facing a stage but she assumed thats where the DJ would be. The music that was playing was loud and she could feel the bass in her chest. She already saw Sanji on the dancefloor with another woman with brown hair. Nami just shook her head, the lights turned a pinkish purple and (Y/N) recognized the opening notes to the song “Oh my gosh Nami i love this song, we have to go dance come on” she grabbed the redheads hand and brought her down to the dance floor.  

     Driver roll up the partition please…

(Y/N) ran her hands up her body as she moved with the song, Nami watched her hips move and she felt herself looking at her beautiful ass  that was peeking out from under her dress. She put her hand on the other girls waist, she felt her breathing pick up in speed when she saw how their skin contrasted. 

     Driver roll up the partition please, i don't need you seeing Yonce on her knees.

     (Y/N) felt the song, her body relaxing as she let go of the anxiety when she felt Nami's touch. Running her hand up Nami's neck and coming to a stop in her hair. Her confidence was growing, Nami could tell by the way she was pressing her perky ass into her. Nami had never been more grateful not to be a man; seeing as she would've already soiled her pants. 

   Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up, and we ain’t even gon’ make it to this club

    “You’re being so bold (Y/N), are you like this with all your friends? Or only the pretty one?” Nami purred in her ear, she shivered and smiled slightly 

     “I just like to dance, is that a crime?” she turned her body and wrapped her arms around Nami's neck “If so you gon’ arrest me officer?” she smirked seeing Nami flustered as well.

    Now my mascara runnin’, red lipstick smudged. Oh he so horny, yeah, he want to fuck.

  Their lips were getting closer to touching as Nami thought of a comeback but the music faded out and the attention of the crowd was being directed to the stage. Nami couldn't help but feel giddy dragging (Y/N) back to their seats. Her plan was officially in action. 

   The Den Donquixote's infamous sex performances, that was Nami's big wild card to get the upper hand. She definitely wasn't in control on the dancefloor but she knew that a  sweet little thing like (Y/N) would give up at the mention of something sexual. Nami could only watch her face as the performance began. (Y/N) eyes were wide and her breathing was getting a little shallow as she watched the filthy things these people were doing to each other, she jumped as she felt a hand on her inner thigh. A very slender hand with short acrylics and she felt the blood in her body warm up. The hand was creeping closer to the apex of her thighs and she felt her brain short circuit. 

       “Im gonna go get a drink, do you want anything?” She said jumping up, She was quick to pull her dress down as the other girl sat there looking a bit disappointed. Nami shook her head no and (Y/N) quickly scurried off to get her mentioned drink. 

   Once she reached the bar she ordered a drink and opened her clutch before she saw a bill drop on the counter and she looked up and saw a man with black hair and freckles. He gave her a charming smile and looked for the right thing to say “You didn't have to do that i have money to buy myself a drink” she didn’t want to sound ungrateful but she didn’t want this man thinking that just because her was handsome and he paid for her drink that he was gonna get something from. 

       “Its just good manners to pay for a ladies drink, especially one as pretty as you” he said leaning in a little closer “My names Ace, Whats yours sweetheart?”  

   (Y/N) contemplated and answered with her name. He smiled and made a cheesy joke about it being fate they met here. 

  If only they could feel the glare they were getting; if only looks could kill...

[astroluvr]

can i request something with a famous reader & she went with drake to that crew league game where jack & druski r the commentators. and her n jack broke off their relationship bc he wasn’t ready to be exclusive. and maybe when druski & jack r interviewing one of the players they say how they’re going to shoot their shoot & jack gets all jealous. then at the end of the game jack talks to the reader and someone caught it on video.

okay, i hope i did this justice and i hope u enjoy! thanks for ur request!!!

***

When Jack arrived to the arena for the game that Druski invited him to commentate on with him, he was more than excited. His life had been beyond hectic and he really needed a breather, so taking the weekend away from the studio and messing around with some good friends was just what he needed.

What he didn’t need though, was to see you strolling in with Drake’s posse in a dress he knew you pulled from the back of your closet. You were radiating to the point where you were almost glittering in the fluorescent lighting of the arena. You had on a tight black dress that scooped just enough above your cleavage to distract from the pretty necklaces you had on and the gold hoop earrings you wore and kept fiddling with. Along your fingers were meticulously placed rings that only complemented your manicured nails you drummed against the bars of the balcony you were on.

“And above the court, we have Jack Harlow’s biggest fumble.” Druski put on his best pseudo announcer’s voice and Jack tore his eyes from where you were giggling with another woman in the entourage.

“Would you shut the hell up? Your mic might be on.”

“It’s not. That dude didn’t shut up about how to work ‘em.” he sat back in the chair and Jack sat next to him in his own. “So, are you actually going to help with the game or are you going to stare at Y/N’s fine ass all night?”

“I didn’t even notice she was here.” Jack shrugged off and placed a toothpick between his teeth.

“Oh, so that was Drake’s ass you were staring at?”

“Yeah.” Jack said distractedly and Druski smirked before reaching over to turn on both microphones.

“I’m sorry, whose ass were you staring at?”

“Drake’s.” Jack said once more, hardly recognizing the trap he was in before all the bustle came to a slow halt. “Wait, wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!”

Druski laughed loudly and you looked down over the balcony to see where Jack was turning red. You hated to take satisfaction in his embarrassment, but you couldn’t help but giggle. Soon enough, Drake was coming next to you and his phone screen displayed the laughing emojis he’d just sent to Jack.

“Didn’t you two fuck with each other a while back?”

“Oh, no, not really. We used to hang out, but you know how it gets sometimes.” you shrugged it off and smoothed down the sides of your dress. Before Drake could say anything else, you cleared your throat. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

After you were able to weasel your way to the bar, you were pretty much left alone. Throughout the game, the cameras panned up to you and you flashed an award-winning smile with a Pepsi can in your hand before going back to focusing on the way the TV showcased the livestream. You laughed at Druski and Jack’s stupid sense of humor and took a few swigs of your soda.

You sighed and thought to how you and Jack broke things off. You had put off ending whatever the two of you had going on for the longest time until you started gaining opportunities that made you realize there was more to life than sneaking around with Jack. Ever since that night you two got into a yelling match, you never spoke again.

“What’s happening now?” you came up beside Drake who had a stern frown on his face as confetti was released onto the court.

“Fucking Chris just won.” Drake grumbled as he pulled a wad of cash from his pockets and turned to face a smirking man that arrived with you all.

“So, Chris, man.” Druski’s voice sounded through the small stadium and you tuned in to the TV screen as well as the court where he had an arm around Chris Brown. “Is there anything you can’t do? I mean, can you fight?”

You laughed at Druski’s comment as Chris punched the air. Everyone on the balcony laughed as well and Chris walked back over to Druski.

“What do you plan on doing after the game tonight, man?” Jack was able to throw an arm around his shoulders with a pair of dark shades on his face.

“Y/N, if I’m lucky.” Chris chuckled and Druski made an exaggerated shocked face. You bit your tongue as loud laughs coming from everyone around.

“Do you really think you’re going to get lucky?” Jack’s voice was shaky, but it was more in irritation than anything.

“Damn, I was just playing.” Chris laughed, trying to escape Jack’s tightening grip around his neck.

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Alright!” Druski cut in as Jack glared at him through the glasses on his face. After clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder, Jack walked away and ran a finger under his nose as he returned to the locker room.

You rolled your eyes at the scene. Jack acting like this was a huge part of the reason you two broke things off. Druski kept the show going as you packed up your things. Once you let a member of the entourage know that you were leaving the arena, you made your way out of the door.

“Y/N!” you heard the familiar voice and picked up your pace, only to hear Jack’s voice once more. “Y/N, quit playing and let me talk to you.”

“Fuck off, Jack.” you grumbled, pulling your shades out of your purse to slide onto your face before walking outside.

Jack caught your arm in the last second and you turned around and shoved him. It didn’t do much damage, only enough for him to get the message and take a step back with his arms up in defense. “I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to you, that’s all.”

“We’ve said what we need to say. What was it that you said, actually? We fuck good and get along, so why can’t we leave it at that?”

“It was different then.” he huffed, already growing annoyed that this wasn’t going his way.

“When was then?” Jack rolled his eyes and you licked your lips. “Two months ago, if I’m not mistaken. That’s some fucking major character development, J.”

He wanted to melt at his nickname, but it fell short when you started walking away again. “I’m sorry. I know I was an ass for how I let things go, but you have to understand where I’m at in life right now.”

“I do understand, that’s the crazy part, Jack!” you spun around and started walking back. “I understand being at a point where everything is make or break because that’s exactly where I’m at. I wasn’t asking you to scream my name and post me every day or go public, I just wanted to feel like the nights we spent together were worth telling your boys about. That’s it. I gave you seven months, Jack. How do you think it feels when you’re cuddling up more to models than me?”

Jack sighed when he heard the crack in your voice. “Y/N-”

“And you only care to say this because of what Chris said. You want me to yourself, but I couldn’t have you to myself. That’s not fair, Jack, at all.” you said accusingly, pushing your shades even closer to your eyes despite the way they began to steam.

“I wasn’t- fuck, come here.” he stopped his explanation short and wrapped his large hand around your own to pull you into his chest. “I shouldn’t have done you like that. I thought I knew what I was doing... I wanted to get everything out my system, but you’re in it now. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You really, really didn’t want to cry, but you were being faced with the insecurities that had riddled you. “I don’t want to get back together if you always feel like you need to find better than me.”

“Fuck that. You’re the best I can ask for. I don’t know why I let myself fuck that up.”

You sniffled and looked up at Jack. “Does this mean once we get to a better place, we’ll be exclusive?”

“We’ll do whatever you want. I know I’m going in there and telling Chris he better not even look at you.”

“You aren’t about it.” you giggled, feeling the weight come off your shoulders.

“Say it with these glasses off.” he said smoothly, taking the sides of the glasses and pulling them gently. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, I don’t know what I was thinking not letting the world know you’re mine.”

Jack hugged you close and pulled you flush against his body, working his warm lips against yours. You moaned softly and trailed your hand up his back to grip his hair. He swallowed and worked his hand to your ass and squeezed it tightly, causing you to squeal.

"At least buy me a drink first, perv."

"You know what," Jack narrowed his eyes at you and you smiled. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"I know." you wrapped your arm around his neck and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"Let me take you on a date tonight. Let's start fresh."

"I'd like that a lot, Jack." you agreed warmly and he kissed the top of your head before leading you away to the parking lot.

||

tmz

tmz It seems that Jack Harlow and Y/N L/N rekindled some old romance months after their mystery fling during the star-studded Crew League game that Harlow commentated on while L/N sat pretty in the stands. Check the link in our bio to see footage of the steamy reunion outside the arena!

52,000 comments

jacklover232 you can't be serious

y/nupdates FOOTAGE????

sheryl3322 my daughter will be devastated. huge fan of this jack guy.

jackandy/nships so happy for them :`)

[arrowflier]

Can you write Mickey be the whipped married guy in his friend group who always leaves early because he misses his husband 😂🥰

“Read ‘em and weep, boys,” Mickey said, smirking as he laid his cards on the table with a flourish.

The other three men groaned, tossing their own cards to the middle without even bothering to show them.

“That’s the third one in a row, Milkovich,” one of them complained. “You tryin’ to hussle us?”

“Ey! Shut up, Danny,” another hissed, whacking his arm with the back of one hand. “Kid’ll probably gut ya for sayin’ that shit.”

“Nah,” Danny said. “He wouldn’t dare, he’d get sent back to the can without his hubby.”

All three men broke out into raucous laughter, Danny making kissy noises until Mickey grabbed up a handful of cards from the table and smacked them right into his pursed lips.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey said. “Just remember that Joe knows what he’s talkin’ about—learned a lot of ways to kill a guy in prison.”

“Not much else to do there,” Joe agreed with a nod as the other two men started to wind down.

“Unless you got a man!” the third man, Timmy, chimed in, and they were off again.

“Sure, sure,” Mickey said, letting them laugh. “But there’s only so much an ass can take, fellas, and once that’s done…”

He mimed slitting his own throat.

“Ugh, Mickey,” Danny groaned. “We don’t need to know that shit, man.”

“You’re the maintenance guy, Dan,” Timmy said. “Don’t tell me you never walked in on the two of ‘em?”

“Fuck no!” Danny exclaimed. “If their stupid little ambulance is in the lot, I come back later!”

“Lucky,” Joe sighed. “I was up there cleaning the windows once before they got curtains, and—”

“Whoa!” Mickey interrupted, holding out a hand over the table. “Let’s keep that shit to ourselves, fuck you very much.”

Joe grinned.

“Why should I?” he asked. “Not like you cared at the time.”

Mickey rolled his eyes.

“At the time, I had a more important issue to deal with.”

His phone went off in his pocket, the shrill tone cutting through the room loud enough to halt the conversation.

“Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” Mickey muttered, digging it out. “Ian just texted, he’s heading back up. Sorry guys, guess that’s it for today.”

A chorus of groans met his statement, a chair creaking as Danny leaned back too far.

“You always abandon us, man,” he complained. “As soon as he’s done, you nope outa here, even in the middle of a hand.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows.

“We in the middle of a hand now, genius?” he asked. “No? Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go meet up with my husband.”

“Fine, fine,” Danny said with a sad wave. “But someday you gotta at least bring him down here to meet us when we play, so you can’t go runnin’ off before you lose.”

Mickey snorted.

“I don’t lose,” he said dryly. “And you’ve already met him.” He looked around the table, meeting every pair of eyes. “All of you fuckers have.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I have. And you know what?” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, let it go. “I don’t fuckin’ get it, man, I really don’t.”

“I’m with Dan,” Timmy said, sitting straight. “Guy’s an over-sized puppy dog, and you’re a badass, Mick. How’s he got you so wrapped around his little finger?”

Mickey waited a beat, then looked to Joe.

“Anything you want to add?” he asked the cleaner, but Joe just shook his head.

“Nah man,” he said with a snort. “I’ve seen exactly how he’s got you wrapped up.”

Mickey flushed.

“You shut the fuck up,” he demanded, pointing at the older man. “Or next time, I’ll open the window and shove you off your platform.”

“The windows don’t open!” Danny called toward Mickey’s back as he turned to walk away.

Mickey threw him a middle finger over his shoulder.

“And I’m not sure you’d get to them anyway if he trusses you up like that every time!” Joe added, and got the other finger added for his efforts.

The door to the basement slammed as Mickey left, and the three men were left alone in the pleasantly chilly employees-only room.

“Think he’ll ever bring him by?” Timmy wondered.

“Nah,” Joe answered him. “Only time he comes down here’s when Big Red is busy.”

They all nodded in agreement as Joe gathered up the cards again.

“Another hand fellas?”

—

Exactly a week later, Joe, Danny, and Timmy were down in the basement again, clustered around their little card table between the lockers that held their personal things.

“Too hot to be mowing, man,” Timmy complained, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “When I took this job, I thought it’d be cushy, but that Melanie bitch is demanding as fuck.”

“Your own fault for pickin’ such a stupid job, mate,” Danny told him with a heavy pat on the back. “It is hot as balls out, though,” he agreed a second later as he took a seat. "That weird lady on the third floor doesn't run the AC, and I was up there all mornin' fixin' her shower."

“Anybody know if Mickey’s joinin’ today?” Joe asked, shuffling the same deck of cards they used every week.

“Nah,” Timmy answered. “He only comes when his man’s at the gym, yeah?” Danny and Joe both nodded. “Well, Big Red was headin’ up to his place when I finished up; he must’ve decided it was too hot too.”

But before Joe could start dealing, the door above them creaked open, and they could hear heavy footfalls on the steps. From the sound of it, more than one person.

Mickey appeared first, a wide smirk on his face, followed immediately by Big Red himself.

“Hey losers,” Mickey greeted, making straight for the table. But instead of sitting, he just pulled out the chair, and motioned for his husband to take it.

“Uh, hi guys,” Ian Gallagher said as he obediently sat down. “I hope you don’t mind me joining.”

The three men just stared, then stared harder as Mickey, instead of finding a seat of his own, chose to plop right down on Gallagher’s lap.

“Figured you guys had bugged me enough,” he told them. “Might as well give you what you asked for.”

“Uh, yeah.” Joe was the first one to recover, offering a cautious smile to the newcomer. “Hey man, good to see ya. You know how to play?”

“Probably,” Ian said with a shrug, one arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist to keep him in place. “What are we playing? Five card draw? Texas hold’em? Seven card stud? High Chicago? Low Chicago? Follow the Queen?”

He looked around the table, and stopped when all he saw were stunned faces.

“Uh…or something else?” he added hesitantly.

“No, no, just…regular poker,” Joe answered, eyes wide. “None of that weird shit.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ian said with a little laugh. “My dad made sure we knew all the games, made it easier to help him cheat. I remember one time he tried to sneak me into a casino just to grab wallets while he played, but I ended up winning big at a high-rollers table until they found out I was only seventeen and chased us out.”

He sighed wistfully.

“Still wish I had managed to cash out first, would have set us up for a year.”

All the men, Mickey excluded, just blinked at him.

“Your puppy tellin’ the truth, Mick?” Timmy finally squeaked, but all he got from Mickey was a shark-like grin.

“Deal him in,” Mickey ordered with a nod to Joe. “And remember, you fuckers asked for this.”

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once, part two [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: Muahahahaha. IT’S HERE!I know, it’s been over a month. And I’m really sorry for that. But HOLY SHIT, the traction “loved you once’ got was way more than anything I could ever have imagined or expected. I am just so grateful to everyone for reading. For the people I’ve met and gotten to know since engaging in the Mayans fandom and posting fic. Honestly, this wouldn’t exist without you.

For this part, as before I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit and added some elements from season three in here. You’ll know them when you see them. Also, if you can tell me where Frida’s date comes from, you win a cookie, and maybe a hug from me.

Part one was based on "Loved You Once" by Clara Mae, this part was definitely moreso based on "You Broke Me First" by Tate McRae. And "After Hours" by the Weeknd. Honestly, the playlist for this fic is a sad, horny mess. You wanna cry, but feel confusedly turned on by it? I may drop the link.

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile).

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (aka Frida -- as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.); also slight Frida x other, and slight Coco x Frida.

Word Count: 23.4K (I KNOW, OKAY?) of ANGST! Half-baked simile and overbaked metaphor. Heartbreak swathed in honey-sweetness, and biting frustration. But maybe, ultimately, the balm of peace?

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, descriptions of sex, fingering, oral (female receiving) so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry). This honestly feels just like a compendium of heartbreak.

Summary: You and Angel have been broken up for a while. After the ill-fated run-in at the patch party, will you continue on as you have? Or is it the push you both needed to reconnect? Angel loved you once; will you love him again?

Read part one here.

---

It doesn't snow in Santo Padre.

It's not that you enjoyed being cold, or particularly wanted snow. But a part of you had always romanticized the concept of a “classic” winter -- the feeling of crystalline fluff tumbling from the heavens to dust your cheeks and lashes, bathing your surroundings in an ocean of chilly silver-white. Of retreating from the exterior world's glacial crispness and  into the warmth of your home, bathed in an orange-golden glow, the cinnamon-y scent of something baking. 

Of falling into the arms of your beloved, someone who would seep the chill from your bones with his warm embrace, kissing the tip of your cold nose. Who would admire the snowflakes caught in your lashes before they melted away as he presses his lips to yours. Cherishing you and cradling your cheeks as he does so, like you're the snowflake he's afraid will melt away.

But it doesn't snow in Santo Padre. Your idyllic winter fantasy is not to be. No snowflakes, no cinnamon; even the man of your reality is, in truth, much harsher than that of any winter chill you could’ve dreamt up on your own. 

In the real world, your romance with Angel bloomed, despite the dying light of mid-January. And nearly a year later, it felt like the true harshness of winter had come to your doorstep when you were, quite literally, left out in the cold. Not exactly the stuff of dreams. You know what they say, be careful what you wish for. This frigid winter was inhospitable, and worse than you could have ever imagined. 

The stinging numbness of Angel’s harsh treatment of you and subsequent departure left you with frostbitten limbs and an icy heart. 

The chill had subsided, had melted away from your bones some in the passing months... 

Until a few weeks ago. At that damned patch party that you were foolish enough to attend, despite knowing full well who would be in attendance. 

That had gone famously. 

Aneesa had come by the next day to drop off your gear, your books, and a wad of cash you’d tried to push off, but that she’d insisted was from Bishop for the night’s work. 

“So you are alive,” she’d snipped, her annoyed expression melting into one of sympathy when she’d taken in the shadowed look in your eyes, the sunken nature of your shoulders. How you’d shed your party clothes for one of Angel’s old t-shirts he’d left at your place and never come by to reclaim, something you hadn’t done in a while. And if you were honest with yourself (something you were a little afraid to be in this moment of weakness), you knew it was wildly unhealthy to still have it-- let alone to take comfort in wearing it. To want to take comfort in anything to do with Angel.

Though Aneesa hadn’t been in the room when it had all gone down, otherwise occupied with Gilly, she’d heard more than enough from Coco and EZ, Gaby standing to the side with an empathetic expression as EZ recounted how Angel had basically run you off the property in his insistence to speak to you. How you’d looked ready to burst.

You’d apologized, of course, for not responding to her texts and calls. For worrying her. She’d waved the apologies away, opting to scoop you into her signature warm embrace. But it wasn’t just Aneesa. 

The texts from that night went unanswered, despite the near-constant buzzing of your phone. 

It had nothing on the buzzing of the thoughts in your own head, replaying just what-the-fuck had happened at that party. 

“I care, Frida.”

“... and if I wanted you back?”

“Please, querida.”

Frida, this. Querida, that. Honestly, it was too much. 

You were smart to get out of there. You were right to get out of there. You’d said what you’d needed to say in that moment, even if it didn’t scratch the surface of everything you’d wanted to say to Angel since he tossed your shit in a box all those months ago.

You’d almost thought you were back in mid-winter, with the chill that had resided in your bones after you’d gone home, hands shaking and clammy with the nerves from confronting Angel. Your skin felt like it was vibrating on a different frequency. Nauseous. And as you’d slid into bed that night, all you could feel was the cavernously empty side of your bed, threatening to swallow you whole. And not for the first time did you wish it would snow. It would be warmer than the perpetual bleak chill you felt everywhere since Angel had left you.

Now, in the sweltering heat of late summer, the season’s defiant final push before it shunts away into cooler autumn, you find yourself back in your shop. Ever-grateful for central air as you watch the waxy sunshine and passersby through the glass door. 

You were  leaned over the counter, idly sketching, when the telltale ding signalled the shop’s door opening.

As you looked up and saw just who was making his way in, ever-present gentle thunk and squeak of his boots meeting the linoleum, you were struck with visions of your life a year and a half ago, when this very sight had been what started it all. 

A sight that should have been a welcome one -- your man walking into your workplace to greet you on a break with a kiss on the cheek; or, at the very least, what should have been a cherished memory -- the ineluctable meeting with the person you’d thought you’d spend the rest of your life with … all of it was tainted now by the actual sight of him walking to the counter for the first time in a long time (but not nearly long enough, given everything), hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were fixed on his feet as he put them one in front of the other on his way to where you stood. 

There was no easy lean on the counter. No self-confident rapping of his ringed knuckles against the hardwood. No smirking grin. 

The Angel before you was a sulking shell of the man who had blown into your life a year and a half ago with his practiced flirtation and his warm, ochre eyes. Maybe 'Clara Forever' should have been more of a red flag than you'd originally lent it. But you weren't reading between the lines then, content with perusing the beauty of the surface poetry that was the man you'd met. 

The man now? Between the lines was all you were reading. How could you trust the surface? After everything. This man was mussed hair and tired eyes, overgrown scruff and rumpled jeans you were sure he’d rolled out of bed in. Despite his disheveled appearance, your guard was still up. You knew how easily Angel slipped beneath your skin, like pin-pricking bolts of easy silk gliding seamlessly into your bloodstream, taking you over before you even knew he was wrapping you up, away, and into himself.  

To say you were grateful for the buffer the counter provided between the two of you would be a massive understatement. It may as well be Everest, because there was no damned way you were going to let him scale it and press his way even further into your day, let alone back into your life.

You were silent as you watched Angel unstuff his large hands from the pockets of his kutte and shift a little from foot to foot. You crossed your arms over your chest, flexing in your impatience, and waited for him to speak.

He looked up at you, sullen eyes meeting your shrewd ones for the first time since that night on the clubhouse porch. 

Oh. And Angel’s eyes had always held so much emotion. You knew you’d said it before, thought it before -- Angel’s feelings were his worst-kept secret, ever bubbling beneath the surface but inevitably bursting through like greenery through the cracks of stone. Spilling molten lava.

Bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

Today, they were glistening; but not with rage or definitive humor. You saw shame. You saw remorse. You had half a mind to tell Angel just where he could shove those feelings, and then he spoke, cracking the brittle, tense silence between the two of you with the gravelly timbre of his voice 

“You, uhhhh, got any space for me today?” You had to hand it to him, Angel’s question was unexpected; his eyes left yours to take in the  empty chairs at the back of the shop. 

You shuddered a little with your exhaling sigh, internally bemoaning the fact that you were alone to face this as you chewed over just how you could answer. Olí had gone to the bakery a few blocks down to procure some late-morning cafecito. You immediately thought of texting him, begging him to come back and save you from the inherent awkwardness of this situation. But you knew he was likely caught in the line of the belated rush. And eager to flirt with the barista.

On your own again, then. Left to battle with your own emotions, and to face the minefield that were Angel’s. To face the consequences your admittedly-childish and flippant exit the night of the party had wrought. And if you were honest with yourself, you were not ready for this. Not quite ready to face the music (music that, to you, sounded like every clichéd, sad song you’d played ad nauseum since Angel had pushed you aside, causing you to unintentionally meet the quotient of every breakup truism). 

What was it they said? Clichés are clichés for a reason? 

You pulled yourself from the mire of your own thoughts with the sluggish carefulness of a child unsticking their boots from thick mud, hating the way Angel’s eyes shone now with hopefulness as he awaited your answer. 

Was he fucking serious? 

You uncrossed your arms, sighing loudly now before you answered him.

"My books are full," you said simply, shrugging. “Sorry.” Though you clearly weren’t, your clipped words plinking through the tense air like chips of ice.

Angel looked around the empty shop, eyebrows lifting as he took in the underlying meaning to your statement. 

“You got no one in here,” he responded, trying to keep his instant and rushing frustration at the situation at bay. He’d come here to try to talk to you. To hopefully appease your mood by coming to your turf to do so. Make something easy for you. Couldn’t you see that?

You stood unmoving, studying him keenly, almost like you were wagering with yourself on just how long it would take his frustrations to boil over. 

You weren’t about to cave so easily.

“Dunno what to tell you, Angel,” he’d quirked up at the way you said his name, almost like a little puppy, and you tried not to let yet another icy shard wedge its way into your heart at his behest, slightly disgusted with yourself for how you defaulted to the desire to smooth the wrinkle from his brow, to cup his cheeks and kiss away the worry you saw behind his eyes. Even after everything, your first instinct -- your first desire -- was to nurture him. But you told yourself since the patch party that you would be resolute. 

Even if on the inside your heart was frozen, but your resolve was melting.

“My books are full,” you repeated, holding up the datebook where you kept your schedule and making a show of flipping through the obviously-sparsely scheduled pages. “No room for you here.”

The line across Angel’s quizzical brow deepend, ochre eyes hardening into a slate frown. His upper lip curled slightly in annoyance, and as he caught his breath on the inhale, you could see him physically resist the urge to snap at you. 

“A lotta white on those pages, querida,” he bit out, starting to lean forward in the direction of the counter, weight on the balls of his feet. 

You closed the pages to your datebook primly, placing it on the counter and folding your hands over where the book rested. 

“No sé a qué te refieres.” I don’t know what you mean. You gestured at the empty chair behind you. “Business is booming. Now, if you want something done, Olí has openings next week. Or I can have him call you if he has a cancellation. Other than that, I surely can’t help you,” you shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. 

You may have sounded tough -- cold and distant to your own ears, even. Angel may have been convinced. But you knew that if you looked him in the eye now, he would see the cracks in the already thin veneer that was your display of disinterest. Better to keep your head down, so to speak. Lest he see just how false your sense of bravado truly was.  

“Frida …” Angel slowly reached across the counter, holding out an arm to touch yours. 

You took a deliberate step back, just out of his arm’s reach, your eyes blazing now as he curled his fingers back and dropped his hand once more to his side. You shook your head. 

“Am I speaking something you don’t? I already said I can’t help you." You pointed to the door, “That’s your cue to go. I have a client waiting.” 

You'd had to hand it to yourself. Despite the depression-gymnastics your insides were doing, you were putting up a good front.

With that, you jabbed the finger pointing at the door, now over your shoulder at your empty chair. 

You were nothing if not adamant. Angel supposed he’d deserved that. At the very least, he’d deserved that.

Angel exhaled, rolling his eyes a little at your unwillingness to engage with him, before holding his hands up in surrender, retreating. 

Your heart was pounding in time with his steps to the exit. Were you really going to let him walk away -- keep walking away -- from you? Was he really going to say nothing else?

Angel gave you one last look before turning on his heel and making his way toward the exit of the shop. 

You don’t know what possessed you to say it. Maybe your inner masochist wasn’t done playing “Operation” with your feelings -- perhaps it was the gnarling, twisting fear you felt at seeing him walk away again, and maybe this time for good. But, as Angel reached the door, you called out,

“If you want an appointment, you’d better call first. You know what they say about walk-ins. Always risky.” 

Fuck. And you were doing so well. 

Angel glanced over his shoulder at you, full brows raised in mild surprise at your flimsy olive branch, wrapped in reference to your first meeting. He nodded mildly to acknowledge he’d heard what you’d said, his shoulders shifting beneath his kutte as he pushed the door open and walked back out into the hazy heat. 

Huh. Guess you had more to say to him, after all.  

----

"¿Flores, Angelito? ¿Para mi?" You asked in mild surprise, a little giggle bubbling from your lips as you took in the man before you with his short-sleeved flannel beneath the kutte, his thick, ringed fingers clutched around the bunched stems of an impressive-looking bouquet. 

The few dates you had been on with Angel at this point were all sweet. You’d never had much of a sweet tooth, but … there was a first time for everything. And Angel Reyes made you want to indulge. 

He had texted you the night before, asking if you'd like to meet him at the park the next day for some coffee, and maybe a walk. 

 "A walk?" You'd teased. "So old-fashioned, Angelito. Will we be supervised on this walk?" You drummed your nails against your thigh while you awaited his response, the bubbles in the corner of your screen popping up to indicate Angel was answering.

"Not the first time I've been told I needed adult supervision. But I think you're up to the task," he'd answered. Followed by a "winking" emoji.

Before you could type a similarly-cheeky response, he was typing again. A double-text.

"No need to involve anyone else in our business."

You chuckled at that. You'd give Angel Reyes that one. He certainly was charming. 

He'd met you as planned the next morning, proffering you the cluster of blooms. An unexpected gift. 

"¡Que bonita!" You accepted the bouquet, admiring the starshine sprigs of queen Anne's lace that were nestled between the soft pink pastel peonies and crisp swaths of greenery. You stood, rocking up to your tiptoes to press a kiss to Angel's cheek. "Gracias, guapo."

As you dropped back onto your feet, you took in the mildly flustered expression on Angel's face, rewarding him with another light giggle.

"Yeah, well…" Angel scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He had a habit of that, you noted. Was he nervous? "Seemed right, right? Since I've got flowers from you, and all.." he trailed. 

"I love them, Angel," you assured. "You didn't have to get me anything. I was just happy to have coffee with you."

On that note, you turned to the bench you had been waiting on, two cups of still-piping coffee in the little corrugated to-go carrier. You plucked one from its nest and handed it to Angel, popping the little plastic flip-top on the lip of the cup, blowing on it a tad to cool it, before handing it to Angel. 

You’d done it so seamlessly, he wondered if you truly realized what you had done, a cute little gesture of caring that -- the more he thought about in hindsight, the more he realized -- were the kind of gestures that exemplified and embodied you. He couldn’t help but stare down from his height in admiration of you.

“I assume you take it black?” you chirped. “If not, I grabbed packets,” you gestured at the little four-cup carrier, packets of cream and sweetener stuffed into one of the empty holders. 

He chuckled a bit at that, taking a small moment to admire you the moment you turned back toward the bench, your beauty in the late-morning sun as it streaked solar beams making your hair shine like a resplendent halo, the aura of it soft and reflective against the apples of your cheeks, ethereal. 

He appreciatively noted your own tattoos, streaks of ink awash against your skin and flashing beneath the ridden-up sleeves of your hoodie as you reached forward to grab your own cup from the carrier. 

You deposited the empty holder and packets into the trash, bringing your own cup to your lips and turning back toward Angel,

“Shall we?” You tilted your head toward the path encircling the park.

Angel took deep sips of his coffee, seemingly immune to the heat, and savoring the rich flavor as you walked by his side. 

Asbestos mouth, you thought, amused with yourself and your thought at Angel’s ability to slug the piping hot liquid without even flinching. 

For his part, Angel appreciated that you didn’t feel the need to compulsively fill the silence-- content to sip your respective “wake-up” cups, walking side-by-side and enjoying the sun’s tender, teasing warmth while basking in the other’s company. 

Angel didn’t know what made him say it, but in this moment, with you looking so perfect as you did, it felt like the moment to share a little piece of himself, 

“My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid, ya know?” 

You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, not breaking your stride, “That’s sweet,” you acknowledged. “I can just imagine you and Ezekiel running her ragged while you play. Do you and she ever come back here together?" 

Angel balked at your question. It struck him in moments like these, just how truly new you were to the self-contained corner of the universe that was Santo Padre, a vacuous and arid black hole that the rest of space and time forgot. It didn’t occur to him that there was anyone in town who didn’t know what had happened to Marisol Reyes. 

He stopped walking, unsure how to answer your question. You caught on to the change in pace, turning to meet him where he stood. 

“She, uh… she’s dead,” he said, softly and simply. He couldn’t deny the truth, and certainly didn’t see the point in being dishonest about it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Shit, Angel, I-- I’m so sorry,” you quickly wrapped your arms around him, mindful not to spill your coffee on him as you brought your hands around his waist. “I didn’t -- I didn’t mean to ask … I didn’t know.”

At first, Angel’s body had stiffened when you made contact with his torso. But he quickly relaxed into the hug, tilting his chin down to rest atop your head, bringing one arm around to gently pat your back, to reassure you that your innocent question hadn’t done any harm.

“S'okay, querida, it happened a while ago. Like you said, you didn’t know.” 

The two of you gently parted from your embrace, you leaning forward to run a reassuring hand over his bicep, genuine empathy emanating in the gesture.

“Well, this isn’t heavy at all,” as you withdrew from Angel, you hunched your shoulders at the mild discomfort you felt having brought up something painful for him. “Nothing like some light conversation on a casual coffee date,” you chuckled nervously. 

Angel had the good grace to smile at that, his easy expression a gesture of mercy on your flip-flopping conscience. 

“I mean,” you carried on, “I know you don’t know me all that well, but… if you ever want to talk, ever need anything, I’m here. I didn’t mean to dig at any old wounds,” you murmured, sincerely, but sheepishly.

“Really, querida, it’s OK,” he reassured. “I didn’t bring it up to be … depressing, or nothing... I have nothing but good memories with her here,” Angel took a long sip of his coffee, nodding at you slightly and resuming his previous pace. 

He pointed over to the swings on the other side of the large lawn, “She used to push me and EZ. Would cheer for us when we got higher. And ... if Pop was working late, and we wanted to play, she’d grab his glove and bring it to play catch with us, even if the damn thing was too big for her hands,” Angel smiled as he looked over at the lawn. “She woulda liked you, you know?” 

He nodded to himself in assurance at his own words, confident in his assessment of your character through the lens of his mother’s memory. 

Your breath caught at that, taken with the compliment. You smiled gently when Angel turned to face you again.

“It would have been an honor to know her,” you said, sincerely. “Sounds like she was a wonderful woman.”  

“She was,” Angel agreed, easily slipping his hand into yours as the two of you continued to walk, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I just hope I never lose that. Never forget her.”

Angel’s words gave you pause, struck with your default instinct to nurture. You were no stranger to loss. Who was, really? Not wishing that pain upon anybody, you imparted wisdom that had, in turn, been impressed upon you in your own similarly-sad moments: 

“You won’t,” you assured, taking your hand from his, trailing your fingers up his wrist and to his forearm, tracing your thumb over the sprig of rosemary you had etched into his skin a few weeks prior. “¿Por recuerdo, sí? For remembrance? You remember her in moments like these, where you share her with others. That’s not something you’ll lose, Angelito. Because she lives on in you. And your brother.” 

Angel was silent for a moment. 

Worried you had somehow overstepped -- when weren’t you feeling that way with Angel? Could you ever just mind your own business without spilling clichés like some kind of poetic dimestore vending machine, or a stale-ass fortune cookie? He hadn’t asked for you to  --

But Angel hadn’t said anything to put you down. As a matter of fact, he was just standing there… looking at you with that face again. What did that face mean?

Angel regarded you with a peachy-hued gaze of adoration, your words stirring something in him. But when weren’t they? Would everything you said always make him feel this way?  He had learned from the day you’d met, and your first date, that you were thoughtful. Generous with your thoughts and your empathy. Willing to give to others, but reserved with your own heart. 

And as he held your gaze, he was lightning-struck with the desire to make you feel safe enough to share your everything with him; wanted to kiss your pretty mouth and share every story from his life with you. Wanted to leech any pain from your pretty bones and replace it with the security of his affection. 

The thought might have scared him, if he had given them a second longer in that moment. Never before had he truly desired to share these things with another. 

You were dangerous that way, Angel decided. A real sleeper hit.

He tilted his head down, bringing his free hand to gently graze the high part of your waist with his fingertips, pressing his lips softly to yours. 

Every kiss with Angel was a novel experience, a lesson buried in a newly-cracked book you couldn't wait to turn every page of. He kissed fully, sweetly. At times, he kissed like the languid, steady pour of warm, thick syrup over waffles, overwhelming your every pore. Other times, he kissed like a bonfire -- passionate, smoky, hazy and stuttering in its fervor to reach the height of its burn. 

Now, he kissed you like honey, spliced with a crisp zing of orange zest, all sweetness and light. His hand on your waist a grounding reminder of your place on this earth beside him. But the longer you tasted it -- the heavier it became, filling you with a rush of sugary affectations, awash with your desire. 

You break the kiss to cut the cloying taste, just as much as you'd needed air.

Angel’s gaze upon you as you broke apart was heavy-lidded and weighted with some emotion you couldn’t (or wouldn’t dare, just yet) to name… his full lips dragged into a low, lazy smirk, watching as you giggled lightly, nervously. 

“So …” you trailed, making a vague gesture toward your stomach. “The butterflies. Not just a first date thing with you. Good to know,” you nodded, more to yourself than to him. 

A genuine little barking laugh escaped Angel’s lips at that, his amusement and rush of adoration for you compelling him to bend down once more and press a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

“You are something, Frida.” 

The two of you resumed your walk, you teasingly bumped your hips into Angel’s as you spoke again, 

“Since we’re sharing about when we were kids -- I always wanted to be a dancer, you know? My dad used to take me to classes. But I was… fucking awful,” you giggled. “I was better with my hands than on my feet.”

"I'm sure you are," Angel snickered, quicker than you were...

Your eyes widened when you realized what you’d said,

“I -- not like that. You know damn well what I mean,” you made a vague gesture in the air like you were holding a pen and sketching.  "You know I'm good with my hands. I freehanded that, didn't I?"

You nodded toward Angel’s arm once more.  

“Sí, sí, you’re Frida, after all,” Angel decided not to make a joke at your accidental double-entendre. “It's your hand, but it's also your eye. Your spirit.” 

And if Angel was more honest with himself -- and with you -- in that moment, he could have gone on -- “And in your heart, something inscrutable.” Not that he was one for too much, too soon with any woman.

"--But I'm sure you can dance Frida," Angel continued, gently knocking your shoulder with his own as the two of you continued to walk. 

"And how would you know that?" You teased. "I'm only left feet." As if to demonstrate your own self-deprecating point, you swung one foot behind yourself in a reverse-kick as you walked, an attempt to softly, jokingly kick Angel’s behind. But you’d woefully miscalculated the height differential between the two of you, your leg not extending high enough to reach its target, causing you to stumble and pitch off-balance. 

Angel scooped you in one arm before you could even begin to fall.

“Already tryna kick my ass? Damn, mama, I try to compliment you and this is what I get?”

Angel’s arm was warm around your waist, the result of his successful rescue to keep you from falling. Maybe you were glad with the stunt you’d pulled, if it resulted in him scooping you into his arms like something out of an old movie. 

“Yeah, well I may not be able to kick your ass now. But give me time,” your voice had taken on a breathy quality, overwhelmed by Angel’s proximity to you. “But I did tell you I couldn't dance.”

“Whatever that was aside,” Angel shrugged before replying, as simply and matter-of-factly as though he was telling you the sky was blue, “I know you’d be a hell of a dancer.” He gazed down at where you were held against him before continuing, 

"How could something about you not be beautiful?"

---

Now, you were squirming in your seat as you sat in one of your favorite restaurants in town, the familiar ambience not enough to assuage your nerves. Not only were you unused to the feeling  of the summer dress and heeled wedges you had donned for the first time in your post-Angel months, you were similarly unused to the company. 

Even if the man across from you had been the perfect gentleman thus far.

Christopher was suave, sleek in his black button-up and expensive-looking dress pants, tattoo peeking from the buttoned collar of his shirt, adorning his throat in a way you found regal. He was far too overdressed for this mid-level, casual dining. But you figured that on the first few dates, you should keep it light. A cup of coffee here, a quick lunch at a food truck there. 

The two of you had met when you were perusing your options, mulling over your selection of the perfect avocado at the supermarket. You didn’t see the man on the other side of the display, reaching for the same fruit as you, and you brushed hands. The two of you chuckled and made light conversation, and then went on your merry errand-running ways. Perhaps it would have ended there if you didn’t see him two days later at the bookstore. 

At that point, you had to say something. You took note of the novel in his hands, and by the end of the encounter, he had smoothly asked you to coffee on your next day off. You had liked his firm handshake when he had introduced himself, and the warmth behind his eyes. His smooth voice that sounded like a crime, too suave and beautiful to be legal. 

Had the whole thing been a little rom-com for your taste? Sure. 

Were you a little afraid to get out there again after the absolute shitshow the last few months had been? No shit, Sherlock. 

Were you keenly aware of the way Christopher’s dark eyes danced with mischief the same way Angel’s did? That he had the same keeled, low-pitch to his voice?

Fuck that. You weren’t going to shoot yourself (and someone else) in the foot because you were too busy lugging around heavy, distinctly Angel-shaped baggage. You resolved to give Chistopher an actual chance. 

And this was the first time you had sat down indoors together for a prolonged period. The first date-date. 

To say Aneesa was ecstatic when you told her about your plans with Christopher would be an understatement. 

“Girl, you know he’s gonna treat you. That man is smooth as hell, darling,” she called from the depths of your closet, mocking Christopher’s deep voice that you had relayed to her in your recap of the encounter, while she tossed out dress after dress in her mission to dress you in what she dubbed “the date ‘fit to end all date ‘fits.” 

She had outdone herself. You felt gorgeous.

And while there were no homemade sandwiches, and your favorite worn jeans were tucked away at home, you had to admit that Christopher was doing one hell of a job at making you feel wooed. And maybe Aneesa was right when she said that maybe “new” was a good thing.

You and Christopher had laughed your way through dinner. He didn’t talk much about his work, but was very interested in hearing about your job, and seeing photos of finished pieces from your ‘gram.

“Damn, mama, you drew that?” He asked appreciatively. “You got an eye for the beautiful things.” 

You felt heat rush through your cheeks and down across your collarbones at his words, preening beneath his smoky praises. 

"Well, I'm out with you, aren't I?" You flirted back gently, smiling into your glass of wine.

The easy smirk Christopher rewarded you with was swoon-worthy to say the least.

Who was she? You were impressed with yourself. Gone was the fumbling girl rife with awkward, unintentional double entendre that you were with Angel. This Frida was a smooth motherfucker, making a man like Chris smile.

He, in turn, showed you photos of his son, beaming with pride while he talked about his son’s winning science fair project. 

He had confided in you that, normally, talk of a kid on the first date could be a deal-breaker. 

“But you seem like the kinda woman who ain’t afraid of an up-front man,” he had said. 

If he only knew. 

As the date was winding down, Christopher gave you a kiss on the cheek as he departed the table to use the restroom while awaiting the check. 

You smiled to yourself, using the moment alone to glance down at your phone, basking in the champagne-warm, fizzy feeling of a date gone well. Of mutual attraction and reciprocal attention. When you looked up and out of the glass doors of the restaurant you saw him. The champagne feeling gone, dousing you like ice-water; as quickly and sharply as it had come, it was gone. 

And he saw you, too.

Oh fuck. 

Through the glass, Angel appraised your sundress, your makeup, your styled hair. You saw the decision on his face the moment it was made.

He fucking wouldn’t. 

Oh, but he fucking would. Ever one to place his heart before his own head, Angel reached for the handle, entering the restaurant and making a beeline for you, past the hostess stand. Until his biker boots carried him to your table, where he noted the napkin tossed on Christopher’s side of the table, the companion chair slightly pulled back.

He glanced at the empty plates on the table before raking his eyes up your crossed legs beneath the table, and up to yours, taking in the blaze resonant in your gaze. 

Fuck, you were hot when you were mad.  

Not giving him a chance to speak, you piped up first, voice hard and laced with boxcutter edges and vinegar,

“You need to leave, Angel,” you seethed. 

It was apparent to Angel, even in his slightly-tipsy haze (you hadn’t caught onto his mild impairment, thank God) just what you were trying to get him away from. You were on a date. And it wasn’t beneath Angel, he would admit, to make you sweat a little. Especially after you had brushed him off a few days ago in the tattoo parlour. Petty as fuck, and he knew it. Coco would certainly have told him so.

He pulled Christopher’s chair back even further from the table, lowering himself and spreading his legs out comfortably, leaning back in his chair, head tilted back obnoxiously to appraise you further. 

“You look good, dulce. What’s got you so dressed up and out and about on a Friday night?” He lilted his voice in a crudely teasing way, like he was mocking you for making yourself feel pretty. 

You would not let him have this one, too. Not after the shitshow of a patch party. Isn’t it funny how you could barely bring yourselves to look the other in the eyes then? Too afraid to broach feelings, content to instead skate around them with all the grace of Bambi on ice. But  this town was too small for you to hide from him for the rest of your life. And you were well-past sheepish aches and pains and trying to spare Angel's feelings; no, you were on the road to well and truly pissed.

The pulse and magnetism between you and Angel was always strong, a source of perpetual warmth for you. But it was you he had left behind, in the whispering grip of a ghost. And you? You refused to be that girl on the clubhouse porch forever. 

Now, your blazing eyes met his slightly-glazed, blasé ones.

Was he … drunk? 

Fuck this. 

“I’m not gonna tell you again, Angel,” you warned. “That isn’t your chair. You can go.”

“‘You can go,'" Angel mimicked your words, echoing what you had said to him just now, and of when he dropped by your shop. He giggled. “Bit of a broken record, Frida. Maybe I’m just here to get dinner?” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, tired of Angel’s games, and thinking that Christopher was likely due to return at any moment. 

“Then get your food. If that’s what you're here for, it has nothing to do with me. No reason for you to sit here.” 

Your usually patient nature was fading fast, the ice Angel had bestowed you with in his departure hardening your demeanor into someone he barely recognized. If he had been more himself, maybe that would have been cause for distress. But he was in petty, childish, drunk-Angel mode. The Angel his brother had often chastised him for being. The Angel his brother had laid into him for being after his behavior at the patch party, leaving you to the proverbial wolves while Andres had insulted you. The Angel who was hurt. Who tended to lash out.

That Angel ever-so-delicately chose to ignore your just-left-of-polite plea for him to leave. 

“So, you dressin’ up for dinner with Aneesa? Or … wait… is this a date, amor? You dating? Maybe I’m just tryna to talk to you?” 

A cool hand met your shoulder, a protective arm sweeping over you from behind where you sat. Christopher had reappeared, standing protectively over the back of your chair. 

“And if it is?” Christopher’s voice was smooth, even and deadly-cool in a way that made you shudder a little. 

This was all getting a little “West Side Story” for you. And you had to break it up before something worse could happen. You would not let Angel ruin the first date you had been on since him. Let alone the first decent date. 

“It’s OK, Christopher. Angel was just leaving,” you nodded at him in what you’d hoped was a reassuring manner. For his part, Christopher didn’t flinch at Angel’s antics, and didn’t remove his arm from the back of your chair. 

“C’mon, Frida. I told you, I just wanted to talk. You can’t give me a few minutes?” Angel’s voice had lost its teasing demeanor, bald and glaring. 

You glanced between Angel and Christopher, now thoroughly uncomfortable with the trajectory this night had taken. If Aneesa ever asked, this would be one of the top reasons you’d choose not to date in a small town. Who's dick didn't you step on when you left your house?

You opened your mouth to answer, to politely brush Angel off and resume your date with Christopher, when Christopher surprised you by speaking first. 

“Do you want to talk to him, mama?” Christopher’s arm was still resting reassuringly on your shoulder. You glanced between the two again, unsure of what to say. 

Your pause seemed to be enough for Christopher, taking in the raw emotion behind your eyes as you looked at the slick, kutte-wearing man that was in his seat. Your hesitation and apparent emotion filling in the gaps about just who this person must be to you. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Christopher said, sharp eyes never leaving Angel’s as he spoke to you, “I gotta take a quick call,” Christopher gestured to the sidewalk beyond the glass doors. “I’ll be right out there, give you a few minutes. But if he doesn't leave when you want him to,” he looked directly in Angel’s eyes now, “I’ll be back. I owe you dessert, anyway.” 

You swallowed heavily at Christopher’s words, a kind of sick relief washing over you as you nodded. Was he just that understanding? The demeanour around him had an air of what you would describe as … deadly. While his words were a balm to you, they were clearly a threat to Angel. But maybe that was just you being too dramatic. He was a smooth-talker, is all. 

Christopher took your nod as acquiescence to his compromise, pecking a quick, light kiss to your cheek and striding casually toward the door. The absence of his warm arm now rendering you unpleasantly naked beneath Angel’s gaze. 

“Weeeeeell,” Angel drawled, turning to look over his shoulder, eyes following Christopher as he strode just to the other side of the glass. “That’s who you’re going out with? He. Seems. Nice. Cheerful, too. You sure know how to pick ‘em, querida.”

“Is that really a joke you wanna be making, Angelito?” You sneered. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“I told you,” Angel said lightly. “To talk.” 

You sighed, rubbing your temples, carelessly dropping the napkin that had been resting on your lap on the table, a not-so-subtle white flag. You looked pointedly at Angel, urging him to continue. 

“I meant what I said at the party,” Angel started.

Strike one, Angelito. Mentioning the party was not the way to go. 

“Which part did you mean?” You asked, voice taking on a tinge of faux-sweetness. “The part where your hand practically up some girl’s ass the entire night? Or the part where you let that guy shit-talk my work? Or maybe it was the part where after all that, you cornered me with nobody around to tell me you loved me?”

Angel flinched. 

“I deserve that,” he said. 

Strike two. Too little, too late. 

“You deserve more than that, Angel,” you chastised. “And now you’re still trying to take from me. Date-crashing? You tryna fuck this up for me, too? Haven’t you done enough fucking? So, what is it about me that says you can walk all over me? Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?” 

Shit. You’d said it at the party, and you were telling yourself again now -- you would not cry in front of Angel. So, why were there hot little slivers poking the corners of your eyes? Your heart felt heavy, sick. It was getting to be a familiar sensation -- like a friend who showed up to crash at the worst possible time. 

The appearance of your tears was sobering to Angel. He reached toward your side of the table in an attempt to brush your hand, to offer you some kind of comfort, even though he was the one you wanted to be comforted from. 

“No, Angel,” you wiped your cheeks and placed your hands in your lap, out of his reach.  “Why aren’t you listening to me? You tell me. How much more could you possibly take from me? There's nothing left,” you shuddered, sucking uneven air between your teeth before gesturing at his state. “I don’t care if you’re drunk, I don’t care if you’re broken. You can’t just walk in here like nothing, trying to tell me the same shit that didn’t land the first time. To what?  To give you my heart back when y-you broke it -- broke me -- first? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” 

Angel was stunned. But, as is the default, Angel deflected. His genuine remorse at your words buried beneath his childish need to lash out, like a child buries toys in a sandbox to spite the friend he won’t share with. 

“That's why you're out with that … What was his name? Chad? Tim? Awfully shiny duds that dude had on,” Angel continued, “He's so… not me."

Strike. Fucking. Three. 

"Possibly one of his best qualities," you snipped, venomously. “But this isn’t about him, and don’t act like it is. You keep trying this thing where you just want me to hear your broken record bullshit about how you want me back, how you wanna talk. But then you don’t say any shit of substance  And you certainly don’t hear a goddamn word I say back to you. That tells me you aren’t really ready to talk. And you don’t give a shit if I’m ready, either,” you bit. “I tried, Angel. To tell you a little bit of what I’m feeling? You don’t wanna hear it. You just want me to hear you -- even if you say nothing.”  

A little flurry of movement caught the corner of your eye, turning your head to see the waiter hovering awkwardly, clearly confused that the man sitting across from you was not the man he had seen you with all evening. 

You pushed back from your seat, standing and beckoning for the waiter to come over. 

"He's got the check," you gestured at Angel. 

You patted Angel’s leather-clad shoulder as you walked past him, toward the door. “Thanks, amor. Real classy of you, paying for a girl’s date, and all.”

Ice cold. 

You walked out of the restaurant as Christopher hung up his phone, turning to see the door swinging shut behind you, and you walking toward him. His sharp brow arched questioningly at your sudden appearance, opening his mouth to ask about the bill. 

“It’s taken care of,” you breezed before he could ask, “Let’s go. You said something about ice cream?” You looped your arm through his as the two of you made your way down the block. 

Inside the restaurant, Angel’s phone buzzed with a text from Coco asking him where the fuck he was, and what the fuck he was doing. 

But his mind was swimming. The verbal truths you’d laid into him wriggling beneath his skin to take residence in the part of his brain that kept him up at night. 

He looked down at his texts again. He honestly didn’t know how to answer. 

---

Then, after a bad night, there was nothing more you wanted than to see Angel, his presence always a balm to your frazzled nerves. His easy, (at times) childlike demeanor was refreshing, and brought a light into your day that you now realized had been long missing before you had moved down here. 

You were sitting on the couch in your living room, feet up on your coffee table, wearing your favorite joggers and oversized tee, the epitome of comfort. 

You had a crappy reality TV show on in the background while you tilted your head back, sheetmask on, the cooling gel seeping into your pores. Cleansing your face and your soul.  

You had texted Angel to come over. After this shit-show of a day, you could use the company. You understood it was late. You understood he may not be able to come over right away -- club shit. And wasn’t there always?

“Hasta pronto, Frida,” his last text had read. See you soon. 

That was over 45 minutes ago. You were antsy. You’d had a long day. Some dude at a consultation had rubbed you the wrong way -- the two of you not communicating your respective ideas together well. The idea that your artist’s brain couldn’t match his vision to deliver something itched at you, wrinkled your brain. You’d had no choice but to refer him to Oli. On top of that, he’d been leery with you. 

Your hands were tired, the fine bones in your fingers aching. And you sure as shit didn’t want to answer any more emails or DMs. You just wanted to lie here, sheetmask on. Unbothered. Your boyfriend’s presence would be a bonus, but he was late.  

Somewhere between your next episode of “90 Day Fiancee” and your umpteenth sigh, you heard it -- the telltale rumble of Angel’s bike making its way down your otherwise quiet street. 

At the gentle rap on your door, you solidified your puddle of comfortable bones long enough to slip off of your couch and make your way down the hall, unlatching it and opening the door, only to be greeted with the rapidly-horrified face of your boyfriend.

“Jesus fuck!” Angel yelped. 

Your body jolted at the shock of his shout, hand coming to your chest. 

“Sorry, Frida, didn’t mean to scare you, but…” he gestured at your face. “What the fuck is that?”

Oh. 

You brought your hand up to where the silvery-grey sheetmask was still resting atop your skin. You sighed, peeling the mask from your face slowly, revealing your dewy skin beneath. 

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, your heartbeat returning to normal.

You turned and made your way back down the hall, beckoning for Angel to follow, which he did, shutting the door of your place behind him. 

“Sorry about that,” you called over your shoulder as you tossed the mask in the trash beneath your sink. “I kinda forgot it was there.”

“Not for nothing, Frida, but that’s a hell of a home defense system.”

At the question in your eyes, Angel continued, kicking his boots off and shuffling his way into your living room. 

“If any serial killer ever shows up to fuck with you? All you gotta do is answer the door like that. He’ll think another murderer is already here,” at that he sucked air thorugh his teeth like Hannibal Lecter. “Hellooooo, Clarice,” he mimicked, laughing at his own joke and popping the button on his jeans to make himself comfortable as he slouched on the couch. 

“Bien,” you agreed, between a flurry of giggles. “Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that. Brilliant, Angelito.” 

You popped open your freezer to grab your jade roller, subsequently grabbing Angel a beer from the fridge. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Angel called from the other room. “Club shit ran long. Plus, you sounded kinda down when you messaged me. So I had to make a stop.” 

You peeked into the living room in time to see Angel pull a crinkling plastic bag of mini peanut butter cups from the deep pocket of his kutte, plopping the bag onto the coffee table. “I come bearing gifts.” 

You smiled to yourself in the kitchen, pleased as punch with Angel’s thoughtful gesture. You popped the cap on Angel’s beer, turning to bring the drink to him, simultaneously rolling the jade over your face in your other hand. 

“Gracias, amor,” he accepted the beer from you. “What’s this now?” He beckoned at the roller in your hands.

“It’s to help rub the product from the mask into my skin, plus it’s nice and cold -- keeps my face from getting puffy,” you explained. 

“I don’t understand why you females think you need alla that shit,” he said, taking a sip of your beer, turning his attention to your TV. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was following along the trainwreck of season six of “90 Day Fiancee” with you. Had his own couples he loved to hate. 

“We females,” you emphasized, “just aren’t afraid to prioritize self care, unlike you big, bad bikers. Seriously, Angelito, when was the last time you washed your face with something other than hand soap, or --” you gave an exaggerated shudder to drive home your point, “that shitty 16-in-one body wash/engine oil I know you keep in your shower.” 

Angel gave your shoulder a teasing little shove, ”Man, shut up. I bring you chocolate, and this is how you treat me?” 

Flirtation and sexual chemistry come easy to Angel. He was always blessed with an easy social grace, and women seemed to eat up the flirtatious attention. But anything more serious, and he becomes a blushing little boy, all shuffling feet, nervous smiles and awkward stuttering. There was some of that with you, he wouldn’t lie. But with you? Everything had a way of feeling so natural. 

“Oh, gracias, beautiful, generous, benevolent Angelito, god among men,” your voice was dramatic, teasing, you mocked bowing to him. 

“Okay, that’s enough outta you,” you grabbed your wrist, tugging you into his lap, tracing tickling fingers up your sides, causing you to writhe, shrieking through chiming laughter.  

Angel’s beer long-abandoned on the coffee table, your jade roller now dropped somewhere on the floor, you gazed into Angel’s face from your place reclining across his lap, chest heaving with the exertion of being tickled and laughing too much. 

For his part, Angel was looking down at you, brow softened in fondness for the woman before him, lightly trailing his hand along your cheeks. 

No one was laughing now, and the noise of the TV became an unimportant, staticky hum somewhere in the background to the moment you and Angel found yourselves in. 

You don’t know how you ended up beneath Angel on your couch. You were even less certain just when the two of you had absconded with your clothes. 

All you knew was that the heavy drag of him inside of you was resplendent, beyond words. Was it always like this with him?

And you? You were a brazen little thing, all gasping moans and dragging fingernails, urging Angel on with pleas and fluttering lashes. Your dedication to marking Angel’s back was admirable, and it’s not like he could honestly say he minded. He’d bear the battlescars of a night with you for eternity, if he could. 

As Angel thrust into you, all you could think about -- beyond the heated urgency of the way he was making you feel, was that he was perfect. 

The two of you basked in the after, awash in the blue-white glow of the TV screen still playing before you, skin now slightly sweaty and glistening in its own right, catching your breath together. The synchronicity of it all … music to you. 

You were both unfocused in your respective gaze’s on the television, just content to lie next to one another. Angel was stretched out on the couch behind you, unwrapping peanut butter cups, handing them to you piece by piece. This last one, he had pressed directly to your lips, which you had wrapped around the tips of his fingers, tongue following, as you accepted the candy. 

“Don’t start, Frida. I don’t know that I have the strength,” Angel said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Just once more, Angelito? You know I’ve had a hard day,” you hmm’d. 

“Evil woman,” he chuckled, reaching for you again. 

“You love it,” you gasped at the feeling of his fingers making their way once more to your center. 

“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes trained on your face as he played your body. “I fuckin’ do.”

Somewhere between rounds two and three, you had managed to talk Angel into wearing a face mask of his own, promising that he would “feel so much better for it.” 

He had acquiesced, of course, never able to tell you no. But made you promise under pain of death that you would never reveal that he had done something so girly to any one of his brothers.

You had agreed, but taken out your phone to snap a quick pic. Angel shirtless, tattoos illuminated against his skin in the ambient lighting of your living room, with a sheet mask on his face was too good not to capture.

“I swear, Frida,” he began, mock-threateningly, “If that ends up on the ‘gram…”

You shook your head. 

“Don’t worry, Angelito. This one’s just for me. And… maybe for Coco, if I’ve had enough tequila.” 

So, the butterflies… Always gonna be there with you, huh?

---

A few days after your date, Coco had texted you. 

“Leti needs a ride to work on Tuesday, and I have a yard shift. I hate to ask, but can you take her?”

“Sure,” you’d agreed. Following up with another message, “Do I pick her up from your place?” 

“She’s coming with me to the yard. She likes to hang in the office with Chucky,” he’d responded. 

Well, shit. 

If you’d known that this favor had come with the condition that you return to the yard -- to anywhere within the vicinity of that god-forsaken clubhouse, you probably would have refused. But you knew Coco was struggling to balance his club life with his relationship with his daughter. And you liked Leti. 

“You got it,” you responded. Cringing to yourself at just how you were going to pull this off and get out of there without anyone else talking to you. But texting Coco back to ask who else was on the yard shift with him would be too obvious. And kinda rude. He knew who you were hoping to avoid. 

Not much got past Johnny “Coco” Cruz.

So, Tuesday afternoon found you rolling over to the yard, hoping to swoop Leti and make a quick getaway. 

Luck, like time, was a bitch of a woman. And never seemed to be on your side in the keen moments you’d hoped she would be. Because as you pulled your car into the dusty lot abutting the scrapyard, who do you see?

Coco, in his snapback and yard uniform, was laboring with a large piece of metal. Ezekiel appeared to be fluttering in and out of the clubhouse, the clinking of glasses from inside reaching your ears when the door opened. 

Angel and … of fucking course … Andres were across the yard from Coco, standing over a junker and exchanging words. 

You sighed, rolling your shoulders and steeling yourself for whatever this was about to be as you got out of your car. 

The sound of your door opening and shutting was enough to draw nearly every eye in the yard to you, Angel freezing in his spot from the other side of the lot

As you began to stride over to where Coco was standing, EZ bound down from the clubhouse steps, intercepting you and greeting you with a warm hug. You smiled easily at the younger Reyes brother, holding your hand up to your eyes to shade your face as you looked up at his smiling face, him already talking to you a mile-a-minute.

From across the yard, Angel observed the interaction. After you’d met the club initially, and met EZ, Angel was content to say that he could appreciate how well you got along with everyone. How well-liked you were by each of the men, especially his brother. 

You two discussed literature, art, and liked to talk shit to each other, friendship in its purest form. Somewhere between Faust and the floodgates, Angel had watched on as you spilled over in your excitement speaking to EZ. Faust and Proust. Did Angel know what -- or was it who?? -- the fuck a "Faust" was? No. But he'd drown himself in literary references that already made him feel over his head if it meant he got to sit back and just take in how well you'd gelled with his family, with Ezekiel. In another life he supposed he'd be jealous that you had so much in common with his brother. But you didn't look at Ezekiel the way you looked at him. 

Even Angel could see it. And if he couldn’t, Coco was quick to remind him. 

“She only got eyes for you, mano,” Coco had told him, quietly, resolutely. 

EZ had left you now, gone back to the clubhouse for something. As you made your way to Coco, hugging him in spite of his obvious hesitance. 

Angel heard him protest against your attentions -- “I’m covered in grease, ma.” 

You’d hugged him anyway. He’d melted into your embrace, smiling softly. Angel had confided to Coco that he had seen you a few days ago on a date. Coco’s eyes had clouded over with something as Angel spoke, but passed through his features quickly, like a summer storm, before clearing. Resuming listening to Angel. The conversation… hadn’t gone well. 

“Back again, huh?” Andres had said from Angel’s side, gesturing lightly to where you stood with Coco. He nudged Angel’s side. “You taking another crack at that?” 

Angel ignored his question. 

“I think she’s here to pick up Coco’s kid,” he said simply, turning his attention back to the junker. Choosing to stay out of the situation, as Andres had left the car and was now striding across the lot to you.

“No hug for me, jaina?” 

You’d frozen in place at the voice behind you, Coco’s quicksilver eyes darting to over your shoulder, where Andres now stood, narrowing at the man’s question. 

You recovered quickly.

“Sorry,” you breezed, turning to face Andres. Noting the way his panther tattoo peeked out from the tank the man was wearing. You would never say you hated any piece you did, per se. But you weren’t about to post this one, wanting no association with it, or the man who bore it. Even if it was perfectly fine work. “Coco really was covered in grease. It’s pretty gross. I think I’m good,” you diverted, nudging Coco’s ribs and smiling to ease the tension. 

Andres shrugged, the blow to his pride obvious in the way his face twisted and his eyes narrowed at how closely you stood to the lithe ex-military man next to you. 

Coco eased through the conversation, patting your arm comfortingly, his eyes finding yours as he spoke, “I’mma go get Leti, OK? I’ll be right back.” 

You were a little distraught at the idea that Coco would leave you with this man, knowing how he had spoken to you before. But you supposed if he could hurry this interaction along and go get his daughter, it might not be so bad. 

“So,” you turned, schooling your facial features into a mask of cool indifference as you faced Andres, who was now addressing you. “We didn’t get to finish what we started the other night,” was all he said.

“Didn’t we?” You asked, tilting your head, nodding toward Andres’s tattoo. “I think we finished. It healed nicely.”

Andres rolled his eyes a little at you, as though you were slow. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He took a step toward you. 

Was this guy for real? Was he not getting it, or did he just not care?

You took a step in kind back from Andres, your anger flaring. “So what did you mean?” you asked. “You mean the bit before I gave you free ink, where you insulted my work? Or the bit after I gave you free ink, where you just insulted me?”

You could see the faint twitch in Andres’s face as you called him out. His patience clearly wearing thin. A man not used to hearing no when it was told to him. 

“That’s what I always liked about you,” he gritted out, smiling fakely, “you got that reaaaal fiery attitude. Not just any guy would put up with it,” he said, as though he was trying to give you advice.

“I dunno what you mean by ‘always,’” you said, politely, your own fake smile screwed into place. “If you excuse me, I’m gonna go find Leti.” 

As you made to leave, Andres lunged forward, gripping your wrist. 

"You really don't remember me?" Andres pressed, "C'mon, chiquita, don't be like that."

"I really don't," you snipped, whipping your wrist out of his grip. You were a little shorter with him than you usually were with people, even in your more frustrated moments. But he really was pissing you off. "Sorry if that's a blow to the ego, or whatever, but I didn't really make it a habit of looking at other guys when I was with someone else."

Andres snorted, tone no longer teasing, eyes dark and flat. You turned to face him again at the undignified sound he had made, noting his cool, angry features. 

"If only that 'someone else' had shown you the same courtesy," he snarled, swatting at your wrist now instead of reaching for it. 

"Hey, man, leave her the fuck alone." You turned to see EZ and Coco striding across the yard with Leti in tow, making their way toward you. Out of the corner of your eye, Angel was also making his way over, shoulders tense. 

EZ turned to you, taking in your crestfallen expression and the way you were suddenly very interested in your shoes. 

"You okay, hermanita?" EZ asked, large hand gentle on your shoulder. 

You nodded, sheepishly. Hating the way you seemed so small in that moment. This man was nothing, to you, or otherwise. And he’d managed to make you feel like you were nothing, too. 

You tried to find your voice again as you spoke, quiet at first, “Andres was just apologizing to me for the way he was rude at the patch party,” you turned to look at him, your eyes blazing now, “weren’t you?” 

Coco snorted. 

Andres narrowed his eyes, glaring at Coco, who held up his hands as if to say, “what can ya do?” 

“Best apologize,” Coco rasped, now pulling on a cigarette that seemed to have materialized from nowhere. “One does not fuck with Frida,” Coco exhaled. “Unwise, mano.” He gestured to you, “She’s got that scary tia energy.” 

EZ’s hand was still resting protectively on your shoulder as you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for Andres’s apology, now that you’d put him on the spot in front of his brother. Angel watched the entire exchange like a snake coiled to strike.

He knew he had fucked up by not saying shit as Andres dug at you at the patch party. It had been roiling beneath his skin, his blood bubbling and waiting to burst forth. Waiting for a chance to put the fucker in his place.  

“Yeah,” Andres gritted through his teeth, fake smile ready to crack at any moment. “Sorry about that. Too much to drink, and all.” His voice was flat. Devoid of any real remorse, as you knew it would be. 

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I hope you enjoy the ink. It’s the last you’ll be getting from me.”

Andres’s eye twitched before the dam broke on his childish rage, “Why you gotta be such a fuckin’ bitch? No wonder Angel fucked around on you -- that smart-ass mouth is gonna get you slapped.” 

He made to step toward you again, EZ and Coco stood before you, protectively, blocking you from Andres’s approach.

But Andres could reach you, Angel had gripped his shoulder, turning him around and landing a punch square to his jaw.

“Man, what the fuck,” Andres swore, spitting a wad of blood at the toe of Angel’s boot. “What the fuck did you hit me for?” 

Angel cracked his knuckles, shaking his wrist and his hand out from the impact of his hit to Andres’s face, readying himself to strike again if he needed to.

“You don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that,” he squared up, shoving Andres in the shoulder. “Listen to me, new patch. I’ll explain the rules -- you don’t look at her. You don’t talk about her. You don’t even think about her.” 

Angel’s shoulders were heaving as he worked himself up more, stalking toward Andres, like a jungle cat, coiled muscle beneath his skin ready to unleash. 

“Nod so I know you understand,” he bellowed in Andres’s direction, pointing a thick finger accusingly into his face, rewarded with Andres's curt nod.

EZ gently removed himself from your side, coming to grab Angel and whisper into his ear, calming him.

“Hey, man,” EZ reasoned, “Now’s not the time. You guys can settle this later. Cage.” 

Angel nodded, breathing heavily through his nostrils and willing himself to calm down as he turned to you, locking eyes with you again, only to be met with an imperceptible look on your face. Had he fucked this up even further now? You had never looked at him like that.

You shook your head, breaking the moment and stepping from behind Coco to go meet Leti where she was standing a comfortable distance away from the whole scene. 

“We gotta go,” you said, hurriedly grabbing Leti’s hand and marching off toward your car with the girl in tow. 

You buckled yourselves in and drove away from the lot in a cloud of dust. Hoping you could just leave it all behind. The further you got from the gates, the easier you could breathe. You drove in silence, as Leti watched you, assessing. Before she broke the silence. 

"We all miss you, you know," Leti said, softly, from her place in the passenger seat. "Just because Angel let you go doesn't mean we wanted to lose you, too. And fuck Andres. He’s a fuckin’ clown."

Leti's words were a wave of molten-hot guilt washing over you, burning your synapses and hardening over any residual anger and sadness you'd felt over the confrontation that had just happened. You knew some of what Leti had been through. How she, so like yourself, was reticent to form bonds with new people. How she'd routinely felt abandoned by those she let herself care about -- and you felt you'd now done the same.

"I'm so sorry, Leti," you implored, looking into the girl’s doe eyes, flecked with amber-gold and layered with wisdom and emotion. Her gaze heavy and so like her father’s. Nothing slipped past them. "I never meant to hurt you, to leave you."

"I-it's just … I miss you, is all," she murmured, twisting her long hair around her finger. "I know EZ misses you. He talks about you all the time. And … and my dad, too. Coco doesn't talk about it alot, but I think that says more than if he tried to put it in words. I know for a fact he misses you. Was pretty pissy with Angel for a while after everything went down." 

You smiled gently, leaning forward across the console to give Leti a soft hug.

“I really am sorry, Leti. I promise I’ll be around more,” you broke the hug, rubbing her arm as you pulled away. “You and Coco are welcome to come over for dinner anytime. I’ll cook for you. Just tell Coco no smoking in the house, cierto? And don’t tell Coco I said so, but you can come hang with me in the shop, if you want. Been slow lately. You can come do homework someplace quiet..” 

She chuckled lightly, nodding and promising to text you about coffee plans as she got out of the car.

You mulled over Leti’s words as you drove away. Maybe cutting everyone other than Aneesa out flatly wasn't the way to go. It's possible you had made a mistake there, though it's not like Leti hadn't confirmed that she understood why you did what you did. And it's not like other people wouldn't have done the same in your shoes. Even still, perhaps re-cracking open the "Angel" chapter of your life had its benefits, if only to once more let in the friends you had made along the way. 

Your departing words to Leti ringing in your ears long after you’d parked at home,

"I'll reach out to the guys more, too," you confirmed. "I didn't mean to leave everyone hanging."

I know you, you're like this. When shit don't go your way, you needed me to fix it.

And like me, I did, but I ran out of every reason.

---

The cracks of the next morning’s light streaming through the slats on his window were barely perceptible to Angel in his haze. The kind of stupor that comes when you’ve effectively straddled the line between two worlds -- Angel reluctantly bids farewell to the gentle caress of sleep, even if it was imperfect and restless; and begrudgingly greets the world of the waking, frowning beneath a heavily-furrowed brow at the grey-orange sun. 

Through the warming beams of light that streamed in isolated splashes across his skin and the bedspread, he could still imagine, half in dreams, that the warmth was you curled beside him, all soft curves, your thigh slotted between his, your sleep-mussed hair, his shirt riding up your form just so as you snoozed, and oh, your sweet, half-awake smiles. But the alternating cool spots of shade from the slats were the chilly reminder of your absence, of the ghost of your touch long gone cold. And as Angel shook himself more evermore awake and into the latter world, he wished he could return to the amorphous and hazy, staticky embrace of his dreams. 

Where life was a little more kind. Where there was a little more you. You were haunting him. Did memories, both experienced in your past together and the hypothetical potential “memories” of an unmet future, plague you, as well? Never to be? Did you dream of him? Or was he your nightmare? He supposed he’d never know, and knew had given up the right to ask. 

Put myself to sleep, just so I can get closer to you inside my dreams ...

It was a truth that was bitter, acrid, and hard to swallow. Or was that just his morning breath? Angel licked his lips, tasting the post-sleep stale dryness on his tongue, pushing himself out his side of the bed and toward the door -- for coffee or his toothbrush, he hadn’t decided. But the need to make a decision was cut short with an unexpected event-- 

A pounding at his door. Three raps from a heavy fist on the other side of his shitty apartment’s excuse for a door.

“Angel!” The shout through the wooden barrier that followed the persistent banging was unmistakably his obnoxious younger brother, come to pester him about what had gone down yesterday. Likely with a peace offering of some sort, as was EZ’s way. 

Angel sighed, rolling his neck to both sides until he was satisfied with the resulting crack, not bothering to tug on a shirt or socks as he padded his way through the cool, empty apartment. 

He fixed his signature scowling look of annoyance that EZ was so accustomed to to his face before swinging open the door. 

One of EZ’s bearpaw-like fists was still raised, fixed to rap against the door again if necessary. The other clutched a carrier with two to-go cups of coffee from EZ’s favorite shop. The one down the street from yours. The one with the cute barista. 

EZ, for his part, looked a little sheepish at the exaggeratedly grumpy look on his older brother’s face, his gilded, mossy eyes widening in a show of good-natured surprise. He recovered quickly, shouldering his way into Angel’s apartment, placing the to-go carrier with Angel’s coffee on his coffee table and flopping on one end of Angel’s couch, the leather giving a groan beneath his weight.

“By all means, bro, make yourself at fuckin’ home,” Angel groused, smacking his lips and turning to swipe the cup of coffee off of the table. 

“You’re welcome,” EZ smarted, eyebrows raised at Angel guzzling the fresh coffee like the heat was nothing. What was it you had called it?

Ah, asbestos mouth. EZ had heard the moniker pass through your lips on more than one occasion and found it to be apt as applied to his taciturn older brother. 

“So,” Angel said between sips of nuclear caffeine. “What? Any particular reason you’re banging on my door at ...” Angel trailed off, clearly unsure what time it actually was. 

“At 11:00 a.m.?” EZ supplied, sarcastically, “You’re right, Angel. It’s practically dawn.” 

“Man, shut up,” Angel groused, “What do you want?” 

“Who says I want anything,” EZ asked?

“This coffee’s got a string attached to it,” Angel shrugged, shuffling over to the couch and sitting a respectable distance from his annoying younger brother.

“We gotta talk about yesterday,” EZ supplied, finishing his sentence over Angel’s exaggerated groan and eye-rolling. 

“Wasn’t the point of yesterday that it’s done, little brother?” 

“Between you and Andres, maybe,” EZ said. “But not between you and me. After that shit you pulled at brunch with Gaby a few days ago, and now this, with Frida...” 

Angel took another sip of his coffee, his annoyance doubling at the increasingly lighter weight of the cup in his hands and at his brother’s pestering. 

“So, what? You wanna try and beat the shit outta me, too?” Angel asked. “Didn’t work out so well for Andres, did it?” 

“Look, Angel, I’m not trying to say I understand why you did what you did, fucking with Frida and Adelita. Because I don’t. And I gotta be honest -- after how yesterday went down, I understand it even less. And Coco agrees with me --”

“Oh, great,” Angel rolled his eyes, cutting his brother off. “You gotta stop going to the Church of Coco, man. What’d he tell you this time?” 

“That you’re fucking your way through your pain,” EZ parroted, mimicking Coco’s signature throaty breeze, “and you won’t stop until you feel something,” he shrugged, resuming his normal voice as he continued. “I don’t know about alla that, but --”

"It was too … domestic," Angel cut EZ off, shaking his head, more at himself than his brother. "Can you really see me with all that shit? Drinking coffee in bed together on a Sunday morning until we're old? Nah, bro … that ain't me. Adelita, the chaos. That's me." 

"It could be you, Angel," EZ protested. "The only person saying you can't have the Sunday coffee life is you."

“I'd just… I'd just fuck it up,” Angel sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm, his elbow on his knee. 

EZ continued drinking his coffee, pausing before delivering the blow. 

“I got news for you, bro,” he said between his prim little sips. “You did fuck it up.” 

Angel tch’d in annoyance at his brother, carding his hands through his hair and smoothing the thick strand that seemed to always threaten to fall over his eyes. For good measure, he tossed EZ that wicked side-eye only that only Angel and his mother had ever been able to truly perfect. 

“You think I don’t know that? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

Angel takes another pull of his coffee, now just the overly-concentrated dregs at the bottom of the cup, lightly grimacing at the beverage’s bitterness. EZ knew Angel took his coffee black, of course it would be the kind of thing his little brother would remember. But, in truth, given the way this conversation was turning, the literal sensation of bitterness on his tongue was almost too much for Angel to bear. He’d almost preferred it if EZ had forgotten his order -- watered the drink down with cream and (dare he say it?) sugar, and called it a day. Because at least it would be easier to swallow than the harsh truths and bile that were currently stewing inside of Angel, waiting to be given a voice. And it didn’t seem that EZ was in any kind of charitable mood when it came to pulling punches, either. 

Angel took in his brother’s profile from his perched place at the end of the couch: EZ’s legs were spread in a show of comfort, but shoulders tensed, like he was waiting to fight Angel every step of the way, no matter where this conversation was headed. Angel supposed he’d deserved that. 

For as fiercely protective as little Ezekiel was of his big brother, he was -- annoyingly so -- protective of the woman he’d dubbed his hermanita. A soft spot for you, the artsy girl with ink-stained fingers who would press lent books into his baby brother’s hands insistently, all the books you could bear to part with. Always there for Ezekiel with a patient ear and arms that would do their best to wrap around his broad shoulders. 

 Angel was struck again with the heavy weight-- the sinking stone in his gut that -- in theory-- should pull him to the bottom of the river he found himself awash in. Drowning is a sort of grounding, yes? But no… he just drifted further and further down the bank, carried in the foaming rapids by the pressing weight of his choices. In addition to that weight, his guilt prickled. Once again with the realization that his decisions had affected not only his love with you, but your relationship with Ezekiel, as well. How incredibly short-sighted he'd been with it all, playing fast and loose with the lives of everyone he'd loved.

Angel sighed before he spoke again, 

“No one ever tells you, do they?” EZ perked up at that, looking at his brother with his brows furrowed in puppylike-confusion. 

“No one ever tells you just how insecure it all makes you feel,” Angel supplied. “Love. They write a million songs about how perfect it all is -- how it’s supposed to be some kind of divine answer. Birds singing, an’ shit. Or they talk about how it rips your fuckin’ heart out, but they…” Angel pauses to chuckle, “They never tell you how when you’ve got it, you feel both so… happy it’s yours. But terrified at the same time that it never. Really. Belongs to you.” 

He shook his head, meeting his brother’s eyes again, his own swimming with the glimmer of emotion long-kept down. EZ leaned across the couch, placing a warm hand on his brother’s shoulder, nodding at him in acquiescence, encouragement to keep going. 

“I-I know what I did, and I know everyone wants an answer… Why did I do it? Why-why did I let it all go down like that? But what answer would ever be good enough? I hurt her, and that’s the end of it. I was fuckin’ stupid, all because I was scared. I had her, and I knew I shouldn’t have had her at all. And I’m just so fuckin’ … sorry.” 

He sighed, breath shuddering. Opting to fill the now-still air in his apartment with another bitter slug of shitty coffee while EZ pondered what to say in response. 

EZ shifted on the couch, leather creaking beneath him as he weighed what to tell his brother. 

“I- I don’t know what the answer here is, Angel,” EZ finally admitted. “I get that it’s scary. Fuck yeah, it is. But that’s no excuse --”

“I know that,” Angel snapped. 

EZ held his hands up in surrender, placating the red dragon-heat that was his brother’s quick temper before it could rise. 

“I know you do,” EZ spoke softly, “I know, man. But it’s not that simple. You should probably tell her, ya know? What you just told me. But even if you did, she’d be within her right not to hear it. Or not to want to fix shit with you, or take your apology. And you? Gotta accept it.” 

EZ brushed imaginary dirt from the thigh of his jeans before speaking again, 

“Sucks,” he sighed through his nose. “I dunno if I’d be madder at her for taking you back or for not taking you back. But, uh, even if she doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you won’t find it again, Angel. You just gotta decide whether you wanna try here -- and accept the outcome no matter what she decides. You owe her that. But one thing’s for sure … you should actually try talkin’ to her.”

Angel had the faraway look in his eye of a man either deep in thought, or someone not listening entirely, staring through the far wall as EZ had spoken to him. Maybe he didn’t look it, but he’d heard every word, turning them over again in his mind before swallowing them somewhere deep in his gut, internalizing wisdom from someone who was younger than him, but who’d undoubtedly lived through more than most people. EZ was good for that kind of bereft wisdom -- disconnected in its logic coming from someone like EZ, but completely sensical when you understood the depth of the boy’s character and empathy. Not for the first time in his life, Angel was grateful for Ezekiel. 

He smiled weakly at his little brother, acceptance cracking through the little cracked crescent grin, “Mom would’ve liked her, huh?” 

EZ smiled at his brother in return, facile and genuine, as only Ezekiel’s grins could be.

---

I swear, for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name, but now that it's there, I don't really know what to say…

Across town, EZ had left Angel’s, and the latter, now alone in his apartment and buzzing with EZ's words, was typing a text to you. And here you are … looking down at your phone between gathering your laundry and stacking clean dishes. You saw Angel’s name pop up next to the little text bubble on your homescreen, causing you to pause in your chores.

Huh. Unexpected  Should you open it? 

After everything that had gone down yesterday at the scrapyard, and the shitty attempt a few days prior to fuck up your date-- were you ready now to have the conversation you knew you and Angel were dancing around for the better part of several months? Ready to breach the seemingly impenetrable wall of silence? Feelings like the ones you held for Angel had a way of not being able to stay buried for too long. And you knew you could never truly move on, never would be able to give the icy shards wedged between your ribs and into your heart a chance to heal. Not unless you and Angel got it all out into the open.

And with the circumstances the way they were, with everything that had gone down -- how many women in your position could say they'd had the same opportunity?

How did the old saying go? What three things cannot long be hidden? The sun. The moon. And the truth. 

The truth was, to you, the sun and moon rose and set on Angel. 

The truth was, you had bitten off a few barbs and spat them at Angel in the few moments you’d shared with him since he tossed you from his apartment all those months ago. You weren't a perfect person. But it’s damn well what he deserved, after what he did. You weren’t wrong about that. The fact that everyone, and Angel’s father, were angry at him for the way things had gone down told you that you were not the one in the wrong.

The truth was, Angel had fucked up. Not only with his infidelity and the way he had tipped you from his life, with blunt hands tearing haphazardly at the roots… but he had insulted you, your work, and stood idly by and allowed others to do the same. 

He knew it, and you knew it. And you had both been petty.

But now that the wound was open, and the skin around it raw and heated, pulsing with its own heartbeat -- how could you ever give it a chance to heal if you didn't try to close it?

There was nothing saying that if you read Angel’s message, if you heard him out, and you got the chance to say your own piece, that you had to forgive him. And if it meant moving on? Maybe it was the step you needed to take. 

Like burning a candle to the end. Or, yes, wrapping a wound. Or perhaps like covering an old tattoo. Clara Forever? 

You unlocked your phone, sliding open your texts, taking a deep breath as you did so.

“I just wanted you to know I heard what you said,” Angel’s text read. “I do wanna talk to you, Frida. But only when you’re ready to talk to me. If you ever are. I just want to hear you out. Even if I know you never have to accept my apology.” 

Well. 

You looked down at your phone. You read Angel's text. Re-read it.

You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't acknowledge that everything that had gone down hadn't been building to this. 

 You brought your thumbs to the glass, beginning to type,

"I'm off tomorrow at six. You can come by after."

There. Short, sweet, and to the point.

Your phone pinged in your hand. Glancing down at it, you saw two words in response,

"Gracias, Frida."

"Don't thank me yet."

You put your phone down flat on the counter. 

The truth was, you still loved Angel Reyes. And you weren't sure whether your rage outweighed your ardor. And this scared the shit out of you.

When Angel rolled up the next day at ten after six, you were slightly annoyed. In the beginning of your relationship, he had been incredibly punctual, likely borne out of eagerness to see you. As time wore on, Angel's timeliness waned. At the time, you had assumed it had everything to do with his commitments to the club, and had remained understanding. With the benefit of hindsight, however, you now knew that it likely wasn't always the club. 

You didn't know anything about Adelita, save for her relationship to Angel. And you intended to keep it that way. But a nastier part of your brain was intensely curious. 

Did she make Angel laugh? Was she smarter than you? Prettier than you? She had to be beautiful, just like Angel was beautiful. The thought made your heart ache. 

When she kissed Angel, did she taste your lips on his? Did she know about you now? Did she hold more of Angel's heart than you had? 

If you were more like her, would Angel have chosen you?

You knew you wouldn't ask Angel any of these questions -- what did they always say? Don't ask something you don't really want the answers to? 

You slept easier at night keeping the idea of Adelita just that -- an amorphous, question mark-shaped idea. Knowing Angel's part in it all was more than enough.

Easier. You said you slept easier. Not well. You dreamt of Angel far too often to say you slept well. You dreamt of the feel of his hair between your fingers, both in a gentle and comforting pass, and in the harsh tugging borne of passion. You dreamt of the feel of his warm skin against yours. You dreamt of days spent swimming in the ocean, him lifting you up to twirl you through the water, like a sea sprite, a deity meant to be worshipped. Perhaps most cruelly, you sometimes dreamt of a future. Your memories blended with your dreams at the cruel, twisting hands of hazy sleep. Never to be.

And when Angel arrived at your place shortly after you had returned home from closing the shop, your gut, your brain, and your heart were all writhing in their own respective dances, never in sync with one another, and rendering your nerves completely fried. 

You opened the door, beckoning Angel in. You stopped yourself from moving to help remove the kutte from his shoulders and hanging it by the door, freezing your hands in the middle of raising to do just that, dropping them awkwardly by your sides again.

If Angel noticed, he hadn't said anything.

He shuffled into your place, likely surveying what had changed since he had last been there. To his surprise? Not much. You still had candles everywhere, casting everything in a warm glow. Your overstuffed chairs were still draped in cozy blankets and piled with brightly-patterned throw pillows. The bookcase in the corner of your living room was still packed to the edges, stacks of additional books on the floor at the foot. Your potted green plants made the room look simultaneously larger and smaller. Your dedication to maximalism was admirable. 

You loved what you loved, even if you didn't have the space. In your heart, or otherwise.

Angel breathed in the familiar cinnamon-orange scent that was your place, its permanent residence in his mind sending a zip through his heart. 

You shuffled past Angel, into your living room and making your way toward the kitchen, offering Angel a drink, which he declined.

You shrugged. "Suit yourself."

You made your way into the kitchen, opening a cabinet that Angel knew contained a precarious tower of stacked coffee mugs. Like a personal game of Jenga only you could win, you plucked your desired mug, and closed the cabinet before the dangerous clinking of the remaining mugs could turn disastrous. 

You prepared a cup of tea while Angel stood at the carpeted edge of your living room, unsure of just how comfortable he was allowed to make himself in this space that -- while just as chaotically orderly and distinctly you as he remembered it -- seemed to be purged of any remembrance of him.

Stirring honey into your mug of tea and blowing on it, you watched Angel over the rim of your mug. Watched him observe your space, and waited for him to speak. 

You tilted your head toward the open door of your bedroom, breaking the silence first,

“I, uhhh, I’ve been working all day. I’m just gonna change real fast.” You shuffled your feet into the carpet, padding softly into your room and pushing the door softly shut. 

You slipped out of your jeans and into soft sweats and an oversized tee. Maybe if you felt more comfortable, you could stave off some of the awkwardness. Maybe letting Angel back into your space wasn’t the best idea. 

After changing, you took a moment -- sat on your bed, elbows balanced on your knees and head in your hands … you took a few deep breaths, lit a candle. Your palms felt clammier by the second, knowing that Angel was out there waiting for your re-emergence.

You don’t know how long you were sitting on the edge of your bed, just breathing. Preparing yourself. 

A soft knock on your bedroom door broke your dazed thoughts. You looked up, seeing Angel through the widening crack in the door, fist raised, his knuckle rapping softly on your bedroom door. 

You locked eyes for moment before Angel chuckled sheepishly to himself, shuffling his feet in your doorway,

“I, uh, thought you might’ve jumped out the window,” he chuckled lightly. 

Leave it to Angel to find a way to lighten the heavy mood that had descended upon your space. You managed to crack a small smile, corner of your mouth tilting up just-so in that way he had always found endearing. 

“The thought had crossed my mind,” you shrugged, patting the space next to you, acquiescing to allow Angel to sit. 

He crossed your room, exhaling heavily as he took a seat next to you on the bed. 

Now that you were seated so closely to Angel in the low light of your bedroom, you looked at his face, taking him in. Really looking at him for the first time in months. Trying to ignore the pricking feelings of trauma that were doing their best to bubble beneath the surface and consume you --- had Angel not broken your heart in a manner so like this? Seated next to one another on the end of his bed while he told you, in no uncertain terms, that he was done with you? The thought made a sick wave of nausea wash through you. You wiped your perpetually-sweaty hands along the thighs of your sweats. 

You had survived the last encounter like this, hadn't you? Honestly, what more could he do to you? 

For his part, Angel was silent next to you, surveying the space of your room as he had in your living room. The familiar clutter greeted him -- a stack of books and a coffee mug on your bedside. A sketchbook never too far from reach. The comforter beneath him as pillowy as he remembered. He shuddered a sigh. 

You decided to take conversational mercy on him, 

"Go ahead,” you beckoned. “Say what you have to. But just know I meant what I said at the party. I don't need shit from you. You telling me what you want to say is for you. And when it's done, you're going to give me what I deserve and listen to me. We need to put this behind us. I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder for you for the rest of my life, Angel.” What had started as a murmur grew fiercer with each word.

"That's fair, querida," was all he offered. Your words to him each time you had spoken since the party were evermore forceful. He was used to gentle Frida. It wasn't often that the turn of your tide was leveled against him. Not often he was forced to bear the brunt of your storm when you were upset.

He could see what Coco meant. It was unwise to make you angry 

He turned his body slightly to face yours, looking down at your hands as though he was contemplating attempting to hold one. His fingers twitched where his hands rested along his thighs. Better just to crack the ice, become submerged in frozen water. Take the shock out of it now, even if he wasn't sure where to begin, now that he faced you.

“I”m not really sure what I can tell you that’ll make it better,” he admitted.

You sighed. 

“I’m not looking for you to make it better, Angel. There is no more better. Whatever you want to say, you say it,” you pressed. “We’re past better. We’re not together. you were clear about that. You don’t have to spare my feelings, I’m not your girl.”

Angel flinched, almost imperceptibly, at your last statement.  He knew you weren’t together, knew you weren’t his. Hell, he’d been busy in the months since you’d been broken up. Busy chasing Adelita. Busy with other women when it didn’t work out with Adelita. Busy acting like a jackass with Andres. Busy with club nonsense. But hearing you say that you weren’t his girl? 

It made Angel’s heart ache in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. At your scoff, he shook his head. “Really. After Adelita told me she was pregnant … I thought it was easier just to let you go. I needed to be there for her, for the kid. Even if it meant -- even if it meant losing you.” 

“Easier for who? For you?” Your voice was soft. You hated that, once again, you felt like the crystalline girl Angel’s heartbreak had rendered you. Worried that the slightest thing would shatter you once more. 

Angel chucked again, but there was no humor behind it. His eyes looked flat, as though he wasn’t really focusing on anything. 

“For both of us, I guess. It’s stupid. I thought if I just -- cut you out … we would both be better. But … that ain’t what happened. I just made us both miserable. I made you hate me. And now ...  She's gone. And so are you,” Angel’s voice was low, cracked. 

The weight of his words, coupled with the gravelly pitch of his voice was making you feel restless, itchy. Grit like pebbly grains of sand you would roll between your fingers on days at the beach, palpable and pronounced.

“A-and,” you interjected, “how did you meet her? When did you meet her?” 

Angel’s eyes darted to meet yours again, finding a swimming emotion he was getting better at putting his finger on. You only looked like that when you were getting lost in negative thoughts, awash in a sad song. Or when he was breaking your heart. He hated that look on your face. Hate that it marred your beautiful features into baleful melancholy. 

“Club shit,” was all he’d said. “We were mixed up in some shit with the rebels. We were helping each other. W-we connected. It just … happened.” 

You whipped your head at that last bit, eyes hardening. Angel’s hands came up, defensively.

“I know. Everyone says that, don’t they? It’s true… and I -- I really didn’t mean to hurt you. When I found out she was pregnant, I thought I was doing the right thing. By her. And by you,” he sucked air in through his teeth before releasing the breath in a huff of air. “I was wrong, Frida. I made every wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”

Angel carded his hands through his hair, tugging the ends lightly in his frustration. “I-- I just been going through some shit lately. And then ... Ezekiel tried to serve us brunch, and I was an asshole.” 

He looked at you, only to meet your puzzled gaze.

“Brunch?” You queried, wrinkling your nose lightly. “Since when are you a brunch kinda guy, Angelito?” 

“I really ain’t,” he said. “And you?”

“I like brunch just fine,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“That’s not what I mean, Frida, and you know it,” he said. “But we can get back to that later.” He took in your loose sweats, the way you had been picking your nails, the bags beneath your eyes. You had looked so beautiful, so perfect and untouchable,  at the patch party the other night. And now -- in your room, all pretense stripped away, Angel could see the real you … behind the professional and put-together front. The tired girl with a broken heart. And he felt the residual ache in his chest that had taken residence left of his heart ever since the day he had put your stuff in a box and left it outside of his door. 

“I know you have something you want to say to me, too, Frida. Your turn. How are you feeling?”

You laughed hollowly, your eyes fixed on the doorway to your room, half expecting Angel to get up and go.

“I’ve been better, Angel,” you deadpanned, swiveling to look at him, and finding him still seated next to you. “Ya know? It’s been a tough couple of days? Between that disaster of a party and whatever the hell went down the other day… but this town is too small for us to just try to ignore each other, and I do like it here.” You rubbed your eyes, the air between the two of you filling with silence that never used to be so awkward.  

“That can’t be all you gotta say,” Angel pressed. “C’mon, Frida. Tell me how you’re feeling. I was… I was awful to you.”

The candle in the corner of the room sputtered, causing momentary, flickering shadows to dance along the walls of your room. Your safe, homey space felt full of shadows and ghosts, words unspoken between the two of you threatening to burst forth, your closet brimming with proverbial skeletons. 

And you were just so tired. And now Angel was pressing you? You weren’t sure if the heat was from your sweats, the proximity of the man next to you, that you had turned up the thermostat too high. Or the fact that you were still so fucking angry. 

“You want to know how I’m feeling, Angel?” You tugged on the ends of your hair, running your hands down the thighs of your sweats once more. Were you always so sweaty? “I appreciate you telling me the truth. Finally. And for apologizing, I guess.”

Tears were pricking at your eyes, the heat blazing in your cheeks matching the heat in the room.  

"But you made me look stupid. Like someone in need of pity," you sucked air in through your teeth. "I fucking hate pity, Angel. It's just misplaced empathy. A useless emotion. And you’d think I’d just wear that mess? For everyone to see? At the party. At the yard. Everyone just feeling sorry for me. For months. Because of you.”

The ache in Angel’s chest intensified. Awash in a wave of hot shame. Was it always so hot in this room? You were right. And weren’t you always? You never were that girl, and he had sent you down the river like you meant nothing, your artist’s hands crushed beneath the washed stones of his choices. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done, apparently --

“And after everything? The way it went down? You made me feel like … I don’t know … Like you were punishing me,” your voice cracked, sobs and tears imminent through the dam you had erected. “Like I loved you more than you loved me, and you knew it… like you wanted to make me pay for that.” 

“Frida …” Angel turned his body toward yours fully now, closing the space between the two fo you and cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the silvery hot tears that were slipping down your face, sick that he had caused them. Sick that he had even made you think that what you were saying was true. “It wasn’t like that,” he assured. 

“And the shittiest part is,” you hiccuped around your words, “you can’t even tell me give me the comfort of a cliche -- you can’t honestly tell me ‘it meant nothing,’ or that it was a ‘one-time thing,’ because none of that is true, is it? You care about her -- you had a child with her. You love her. And here I thought I could take what you did, take you, fold you up and tuck you away, like a note you pass in school. And I can’t. I just can’t.”

You tilted your face downward now as your tears fell, allowing your face to be fully cupped by Angel’s warm, calloused hands. Even now, you were still amazed at how tender his touch was, despite his rough exterior. All he wanted now was to comfort you, to touch you and bring your eyes to his again. To remind you of his love for you. Once. Now. Always?

“Frida, it wasn’t like that. They were my selfish, stupid choices. Mine. And I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted … everything with you. And it wasn’t right. I told you -- I … been going through some shit.” 

“Scared,” you murmured. Turning your face in Angel’s hands, causing your lips to brush over his fingers. You leaned back, effectively releasing your face from the trace of his touch. 

“Isn’t it remarkable how secure and insecure you can simultaneously feel when you’ve found someone worth loving? I felt it, too. With you  it's now I knew you were the one,” You said. Angel straightened in shock, at how, though you weren’t present for his conversation yesterday with Ezekiel, you parroted his feelings he had confided in his brother back to him. Always on the same page. His full lips pursed as you continued. 

“We can’t keep using what happened to hurt each other. I’m done with that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you felt the way you did. I’m sorry you felt like you needed to look elsewhere. And I hope you find what you're looking for,” you hated how soft your voice sounded to your own ears. Hadn't you meant to be forceful, angry? You sniffled. “Because, despite everything that’s happened...  You are someone worth loving, Angelito.” 

"No, Frida," he shook his head softly before looking at you again, eyes glittering. "You are. Someone deserving of more.”

Your breath caught in your chest at his words, taking this moment to look into his ochre eyes once more. You wanted to commit to your memory just how they swirl like melting chocolate and promises in low candlelight.

And, oh. Angel was made to be seen like this, you’d thought. The dim candlelight giving everything in your room a pleasant glow and slightly-blurry edges. He looked like his namesake. And how ironic was that, really? Considering the context of your conversation. 

It's easy these days, you thought, for you to get carried away by your own feelings... While you searched desperately in the emotional rubble for your muse, Angel, the truth of it tore you to shreds with blunt fingernails -- knowing he was  out in the world -- running freely and carelessly. Running away with your imagination. With your hope. With the pieces of your heart that had survived the blitzing storm he had put you through. With the pieces of your heart that had belonged to him. That you feared may always belong to him.  

Looking at Angel now, in the low-lit steadfast luminescence of your room, shadows flickering agreeably across his angular cheekbones. He was sculpted. Made to be admired in perpetuity. Artist that you were, it ached. It stung. The knowledge that your hands were not the ones that had molded him into the man sat beside you. A man molded, instead, by his own choices. 

All you could do was watch as those wrong decisions drifted lazily down the river, only to become a torrent, Angel caught in the current. The waves lapped loudly, sloppily against riverbanks of better judgment, but Angel is never quite washed ashore. No, as you watched, he slipped down the river, out of your fingertips and toward something you're too fearful to quantify. Away from you. 

You want the river to carry him back to you. To home. But you know it never will. 

Angel has two choices now: To drown under the weight of his path this river has wrought; or to swim. 

As you sit beside him in the growing heat of your room, you hope he chooses to swim. Even if it’s not to where you stand. 

"So, is that what’s next?” You asked, wiping your eyes. 

At Angel’s puzzled look, you carried on,

"You're asking for it back," you whispered. “Or you’re going to. My heart? You may not have said it like that, exactly, but it's what you want. Like you don't know how bad it all hurt me, even if you say you know, I don't think you ever will. And even if I wanted to give it to you, I don't know if there's enough of it left."

You wrung your hands together, awaiting Angel’s response. You looked up at him through your lashes, clumped together with the tears that had escaped during your confessional. 

His molten eyes were soft on your form, swallowing before he spoke again. 

“I was such an asshole… to you. And at that stupid brunch … to Gaby. But it was all just … too much. I mean, she was wearing mom’s apron…” Angel shook his head. “And all I could think of … Even with Adelita out there, with her and my boy gone, outta my life… all I could think of was how it should be you wearing the stupid apron. It should be me giving you my mother’s ring. And I was so angry at Ezekiel for having all of that. For having what I wanted … wanted with you.” 

If there was any air left in the room, it was certainly all gone now. All that was left was heat, no air or space between the two of you. Just stagnant air and the weight of words, both said and unsaid. And if Angel had said these words to you more than a year ago? Maybe they would sound different to your ears. Melodious, even. 

Now, all you could think to do was comfort. Ever the nurturer. What else could you do, really, after he'd said that? You shook your head gently, lacing your fingers through Angel’s and squeezing. 

“It’s not that he has something you don’t, or that you can’t have, Angel… What EZ and Gabriela have is what they have. It’s theirs. You’ll have yours. Someday.”

Silence descended upon the room once more. The warm scent of orange-cinnamon from your candle permeated the room, the ever-present heat between you and Angel banishing all thoughts of romantic winter from your mind. 

“I just wanna say, again, Frida… how sorry I am for what happened at the party. For what happened with Andres. It was fucked up of me,” Angel’s tongue passed over his lips. “Did I answer all of your burning questions?” 

You reached over, trailing your fingers over the tattoo you had given Angel what felt like a lifetime ago.  His eyes followed the trajectory of your fingers, his nerves alight at the feeling of your starlit, feathery touch on his skin once more.

"Just one left.” Your eyes locked with his, unwavering. “Who am I to you, really?" You ask, the edge your silken voice had taken on slides beneath Angel's skin clumsily, like crumbling shards of glass. "What did I mean?"

Angel tries not to look at you now. Tries, but fails. His dark eyes meet your downcast ones once more, hates that they are once more glimmering with unshed tears waiting to fall. Hating that once again, he's the cause of the dreary blue tinge shading what should have been your sunny, hopeful worldview. Awash with the sunsets he would take you to see. 

And if there was any time for blossoming truth, for a sprig of rosemary remembrance of sacred feeling, it was now. 

"You're the love of my life," he finally admits, exhaling heavily. "That's just it, ain't it? Always you. And not that I have any right to ask you now -- But I need to know, Frida. Am I yours?"

Any air left was sucked from the room in one fell swoop, leaving you with the stuffy and sticky discomfort of Angel's question and the weight of his heated gaze on you, waiting for something, anything to fall from your pretty lips.

And what a question it was. 

You knew the answer, of course. You reach up to brush your thumb tenderly across Angel’s sculpted cheek, as though you could be the one molding it, nodding before verbalizing your answer,

"You've always been the love of my life. Had my heart. I'm yours, But, I think I know now… that  you were never truly mine. Even if you say it now. You have a heart that's not so easily won, Angelito. That's something I wish I'd learned sooner, wish I could've taken from you… from all of this." 

All Angel could do was shake his head, the crease in his brow deepening at your words. 

"Ever the poet, Frida."

"I thought I was a 'shit' poet?" You teased gently, recalling his words to you when he’d texted you to ask you out for the first time. 

Angel chuckled, the grit and honey in his voice washing over you, a wave of silken heat, his eyes are fixed upon yours intently, leaning forward and bringing his hands to trace along your neck, your jaw, dragging his thumb over the full, pillowy part of your bottom lip. 

“You did win it, Frida,” was all he said. 

The rush of warm, fluttery feeling swam through your body, prickling you like sparkling, popping champagne. Angel’s eyes tracked yours, down to where his thumb was dragging across your lip. Your eyes slipped shut, lashes fluttering. 

You could feel it rushing back. Everything Angel had ever made you feel -- the ardor, the frustration, the crushing weight of the river wild. Heat bloomed across your cheeks and down your chest, between your thighs and through the fingertips that you had brought to grip Angel’s biceps. 

His declaration of love, of melted marshmallow and warm cocoa -- made you crave him in a way you had long thought gone. 

You pressed your lips to kiss the tip of Angel’s thumb. You were rewarded with a reciprocal, sucking in of air on Angel’s part. 

He held his breath momentarily before surging forward and capturing your lips with his full ones. 

You were awash in the memory of every kiss shared with Angel. Of how he’d made you feel in your full-hearted moments together. Rich and full, like morning coffee. Hazy and sweet, like cherry smoke.

Angel’s kiss makes you feel dizzy, fizzing and dissolving simultaneously, like a Mento in a glass of Coke. Volatile and thrumming, both erupting and disappearing so fast, you were afraid you’d never have the chance to process exactly what it made you feel. 

It might be okay, you reasoned to yourself -- if you could hold Angel just for one more night, feel his body pressed against yours. It felt like a good idea in this moment, just to hold him for one  night only. 

Your lips pressed against one another, his hand cupping your jaw trailing back to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging it -- causing your kiss to break. Angel trailed his lips from yours, down and along your jaw. 

Angel’s grip firmed, turning your head further as he continued his attention down your neck, giving you a view of the chair next to your closet where you had haphazardly thrown Angel’s t-shirt when you had worn it last, a symbol of comfort now worn-out. 

You laid back, Angel following, surging over you and pressing you into your cloudlike comforter. His hips rolled into yours, his teeth now scraping gently along the slope of your neck. 

At the gasp you emitted, Angel felt himself harden in his jeans. He'd thought he'd never hear that sound from you again. And replaying the memory of it in his head? Not enough. He rolled his hips into yours again, again, as you dragged your thighs up Angel’s sides, locking your legs around his hips. He trailed warm hand down to caress your breast through your soft t-shirt, leaving a heated trail in its wake. 

“Oh, Angel,” you gasped, rolling your hips to meet his. 

“Can I kiss you like this, amor?” Angel rasped, “I’ll make you feel good.” 

He took in the heat behind your eyes, the kiss-swollen state of your lips when he broke from them. The creeping heat he felt from beneath your collar in his position atop you, and the way your breasts heaved beneath your shirt. 

The thread of resolve you were hanging by seemed to dissolve, leaving you unraveled and threadbare, naked before the man you swore would be your forever. The ache you felt between your legs burned crimson, cloudy and acrid. You tasted Angel’s kiss, tasted him, on your tongue.

You were never more aware of the dimensions of your body than when Angel had his hands on you, tracing and gripping every curve, the touch of places you don't think to touch yourself, strange but pleasurable as you relished in the trace of his rough fingertips against your smooth skin. He slid his hands down your waist, hips and into the loose waistband of your sweats, sliding them down your legs as he went. 

Angel played your body with temerity, a confidence, and before you knew it, your lower half was bare before him. He pushed the soft, loose fabric of your t-shirt up and over your chest, trailing his lips over your now-exposed skin, bringing his other hand to cup your breast, circling the pad of his thumb over your nipple. 

You gasped and groaned beneath Angel’s attention. Gripping at the hem of his shirt, you tugged it up and over his head, trailing your hands down his firm, thick torso. 

Angel was reticent to deprive himself of your touch after not having had it for so long. The touch of your nimble, artist’s fingers trailing over the lines of his body made Angel feel like an instrument being plucked to a tune that made both his and your body sing. He thought he would never feel it again.

 But this moment? This was about you. 

 Angel gripped your wrists, firmly planting your hands next to your head, following the trajectory and leaning over you with his full body. Releasing your wrists, Angel firmly pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue swiping past your lips and invading your mouth. Hot, needy, dirty. 

Ange tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing lower and lower down your body, kissing your hips, nipping at your hipbone, causing you to yelp and buck your hips.

The action drew Angel’s attention, lifting his lips from your body, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I missed you, baby. Did you miss me? Sweet girl...” His voice was lower than you think you’d ever heard it, dangerously so. 

Bringing his hand down to cup your mound, he traced his fingers through your slick folds.

“Ah-Angel,” you gasped, tilting your head back at the blissful feel of Angel’s touch. As quickly as his touch had come, he withdrew it, causing your eyes to snap open, fixed on him and full of fire. 

“You know how this works, querida. I won’t touch you unless you answer me,” he taunted, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over where you’d wanted him most, staunch in his refusal to commit to the touch. 

“God, Angel, yes,” You gasped. “P-please.”

Angel rewarded you, prising apart your legs and sliding down your body, tracing a teasing lick of his tongue through your folds, increasing in pace and intensity at the noises passing through your lips.

"I d-do miss you,” you sighed, starting to roll your hips against Angel’s tongue. “I miss the way you touch me… the way you fuck me.”

God. It was hot, the way you talked, the way you gave yourself over to him. 

Stars and firecrackers popped behind your eyes at Angel’s attention, cinnamon heat seeping through your bones, writhing and twisting at the way Angel strung his way through your body. Unable to justify the concept of being left alone, you tugged up at Angel’s jaw, forcing him to look up at you. Met with your wanton gaze, Angel licks his lips at the sight of you and slides back up your body with a grace that defies his size. 

Now level with you once more, he gripped your jaw, turning your head to the side and attacked your neck, your breasts with renewed vigor, grinding his denim-clad hardness against your naked core, the painful drag of the fabric turning pleasurable. 

With your gaze turned toward the wall, you were once again greeted with the sight of Angel’s rumpled t-shirt on the chair by your closet. An object of comfort, threads and strings tying you to a past life.   

What were you doing? Taking comfort in something that you couldn’t, in good conscience, call your own?

The rumpled shirt seemed to be mocking you, taunting you. Reminding you that, once again, you were seeking clinging to something you shouldn't. Seeking solace in things -- people -- that you shouldn't. 

Apart from Christopher's warm, sly, sensational goodnight kiss the other day, Angel's was the first touch you'd experienced like this since, well, Angel… How easy it was to slip back into your feelings for him, get caught up in him.

I'd give it all just to hold you close, sorry that I broke your heart... You shouldn’t be doing this. 

“Angel,” you prised his lips from your body. “St-stop.” 

Angel’s eyes were wild, hair mussed and lips swollen.

“What, querida?” 

“Angel,” you sighed again, sliding your shirt down and coming to sit up. “We can’t be doing this.”

Angel slouched next to you with a huff, trailing his fingers down your arm.

“Why not?”

You sighed. After all this time, the feeling of Angel so close to you was everything you thought you wanted. But everything that had been said? The water beneath your respective bridges? Angel was still awash, had not come to rest on any bank. And you were still waiting on the shore -- now certain that all you would mold from the riverbank clay were memories and half-baked dreams. 

“We’re not together,” you breathed, leaning over the bed to pick up your sweats and tug them back on. “And that’s not what this is. We're too old for platitudes, and happy endings are for children's stories. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you know this is wrong.”

“Querida -- I want…" Angel started, before turning away, leaning over his thighs and tugging his hands through his hair… his distress with how he had let himself get so out of control with you was mounting. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“What? Angel,” you touched your hand to his still-bare shoulder. “What do you want?”

"A second chance…?" Angel's normally smooth voice trailed at the end, transforming his desire into a question, fading into the silence of the room. He shifted his shoulders, turning his body to once more face yours, but not quite meeting your eyes. 

You let his words hang in silence for a moment, weighing how you wanted to respond.

“Say something, Frida.” 

"I knew you'd say that," you chuckled drily. "I know you, you're like this. But second chances become third, fourth, fifth. I can't trust you. What did you expect me to say?"

Angel opened his mouth to answer before catching sight of the expression on your face, twisted into proverbial knots. Even now, you were being far more gracious than he had any right to expect. He closed his mouth again, sighing.

"I don't know, dulce."

"I do,” you shook your head. “You expected me to say 'yes,' " you reached across the bed to one more lace your fingers through his. "I know you. But what does it say about me that I want to? It would be so like me, wouldn't it?"

You squeezed Angel's fingers tenderly in your grip, awarding him a flickering, wan smile. 

Angel's voice cracked when he spoke again, "Then say yes, Frida. Let me prove it to you. Prove that we’re meant to be together."

"And would you? Would you take me back if I did that to you? If I had someone else's child? While we were together?" 

Angel was silent at that, not having considered the reversal of roles. In truth, though you knew him, he knew you, too. It would be so wildly out of character, how would he have been expected to consider it?

"You think you might, because you love me. But, see, Angelito, I don't think you would. So how can you sit there and say we're two people who are meant to be when we don't even love each other the same? Love doesn't come in pieces, amor. You held my heart in your hands. And you crushed it. Let it crumble into nothing, like sand. Like I meant nothing."

“But this--” Angel gestured between the two of you, eyes lingering on the skin of your neck where his mouth had been, tracing his fingers over your kiss-swollen lips. 

“--Can’t happen.” Tears were rising to your eyes again. 

Goddamnit. Couldn’t you get through one conversation with him without crying?

“Maybe we are meant to be. And maybe we'll find our way back to one another. But right now? I -- I don't think I can. But more importantly, I don't think we should. And please hear me when I tell you how much it breaks my heart to say that."

Your heart was burning, but your skin was ice. Dream, they call desire. And he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Always stupidly genuine.

Angel was stock-still, and as you took in his prone form, eyes tracing to his face -- you saw a lone tear slip down his cheek, shaking his head. 

"I miss you, you know?" He chuckled, no humor in his soft, velvet voice. 

"I know."

You were in a fugue state, the rumble of Angel’s bike retreating down the street barely registering as you were processing as you retreated to your bed, the room and your sheets noticeably cooler in Angel’s absence. The room feeling too large without him in it.

As you settled into bed, you noticed it -- Angel’s old shirt, still on your chair. 

You hadn’t thought to return it.

---

The following week found you back in the shop, preparing for your mid-afternoon appointment. You had wiped down the table, changed the wrapping, and were now idly jotting as you waited. Thoughts on one person in particular. 

The bell above the shop door dinged, causing you to look up from the poem you were penning on the lime-green sticky you kept a stack of near your work station. 

Your one o'clock was right on time.

And you were greeted with the sight of Angel striding in with two cups of caffeine, offering one two you as he rested his ringed hand on the counter.

“If you want an appointment, you’d better call first. You know what they say about walk-ins. Always risky.” 

Since Angel had departed your place in the middle of the night a week ago, the words between the two of you having had time to simmer and settle, allowing you to process the weight of it all. 

For his part, Angel had given you space. Hadn’t said anything past texting you to tell you he had made it home safely. 

 In the days that had followed, you had cautiously cracked the ice between the two of you, hoping to assuage any awkwardness and rebuild some kind of friendly connection removed from the physical. It was probably better that way. Messaging him idly to ask about his day. Not that you had shared with Angel, but you were also texting Christopher. 

Angel had called the shop, asking if you were available to help him with something he’d wanted to do. Something special, he’d said.

“Something for Ezekiel,” Angel told you. “He’s been through alot lately, with Gaby and the club and everything … been through alot with me lately. Now feels like the right time”

You had, of course, readily agreed. Eager and honored to help Angel with a tribute to his brother. The texts between the two of you changed to exchanges of ideas, you sending him screenshots of your sketches before the two of you had decided on a design that fit. 

You accepted the cup of coffee from Angel gratefully and with a gentle smile, beckoning him behind the counter. Coffee truly was a love language. 

“You can sit in the chair and lean forward, or you can lie on the table. Both are clean. Dealer’s choice,” you said between sips. 

Angel nodded, slugging the last of his coffee and placing the cup down before slipping his shirt over his torso, baring his back to you as he sat in the chair, leaning forward and twisting his abdomen to bare his shoulder blade to you. 

The tawny patch of skin on his shoulder, above the large Mayans tribute that covered the expanse of his back, seemed like the perfect place for something for EZ, the angel (ha ha) on his shoulder and guiding influence in one another’s lives. 

You cleaned and bic’d the area, stenciling your design into the space and getting your kit ready to begin.

Angel watched what he could of you from the corner of his eye, a resonant ache blooming through his chest at the familiarity of this scene. Of you, all business, touching his skin, preparing to impart a piece of yourself that he would wear on his body for the rest of his days. 

You queued up your playlist, the sounds of motown flowing through the shop as you hummed along idly. 

In this moment, Angel knew … he was still in love with you. Likely always would be. You had been far too gracious with him, as you always were -- in the way you had treated him the other night. No mention of your “almost” encounter, for which he was grateful. And he knew he was correct in his assessment of you when you had first started dating -- it was in your nature.

“You mind?” Angel broke the comfortable silence between the two of you, gesturing at the journal-like sketchbook you had left near your station. 

You shook your head in acquiescence, “No. But it’s kind of a mess in there lately,” you acknowledged. “Shit poet, and all.” 

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Angel barked a laugh. “I didn’t insult your poetry, Frida, you did.” 

“Ever the self-deprecating, starving artist,” you sighed dramatically. 

Angel took that as his cue, flipping through the pages of your book. One page felt particularly heavy beneath his fingers. He flipped to it, to be met with dried, pressed flowers that had been delicately glued to the pages, the page covered in a plastic slipsheet -- the dried, dusky pink of peony petals were affixed to the page next to a swath of a white, lacy-looking bloom. 

Around the flowers were sketches of hands that looked suspiciously like Angel’s own, down to the tattoos, and idle lines of poetry. 

Angel furrowed his brows as he glanced at the flowers again.

“You got those flowers for me,” you acknowledged, looking over his shoulder to see the page of your book he had settled on. “One of our first dates, when we went to the park. I’m not sure if you remember.”

Angel’s throat caught in a way that both annoyed and unsettled him. How were you always doing this to him?

“Recuerdo, Frida,” he breathed. “Lo recuerdo todo.” 

You patted his arm gently, resuming your work. 

“I like pressing flowers. It takes a while, but the end result is worth it.” 

You pinched your brows in concentration as you drew along the stenciled lines you’d previously etched into Angel’s shoulder blade, gun buzzing. You began to fill in the minimalist rising sun that was now filling the shoulder blade, stippling the interior as you went, the effect giving the sun an almost stucco-like finish that looked breathtaking against Angel’s golden skin. 

Angel allowed you to continue you work in silence, the weight of the past few days with you settling into his bones. He had pleaded with you, endeared himself to you so much that he had lost his voice. His bones filling with the words he wished he could verbalize. 

He was slowly arriving at that place of acceptance -- Santo Padre was a small town. He would see you. And it appeared that you could now stomach his presence, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Seeing you alone. Hell, even seeing you with someone else, was better than not seeing you at all. 

But once thing was clear -- you were someone who would always be in his life, his memories, his heart.

Angel was lost in his thoughts; you were focused on your work. The only thing that gave any indication as to the passage of time in the room where you two found yourselves was the evolution of your playlist passing through tracks.

Isn’t that how it always was with Angel? Time stood still. 

As you finished his tattoo, you snapped a quick pic for your work Insta -- and maybe, selfishly, for yourself, to admire, too. It’s true, what you had felt all those months ago, and again a week ago -- Angel Reyes was your muse. 

Made to be admired in perpetuity. 

You cleaned and wrapped it, pushing back wordlessly from your seat and making your way to the front as Angel gingerly tugged his shirt back over his head. Quoting the rate over your shoulder, you put Angel's aftercare bag together. But not before slipping the lime sticky in.

“Is that it?” Angel asked, arriving at the front counter, kutte once again in place..

“C’mon, Angelito, you know you get the friends-and-family rate,” you shrugged.

"And is that what we are, querida? Friends?” Angel's voice had none of the bravado it held when he had first spoken these words to you the day you'd met. Now it was cotton soft and carefully tinged with hope. He leaned over the counter.

You shrugged again.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" You tilted the corner of your lips in a gentle, wan half-smile. 

"One day with you, and already friends again?” Angel breezed. You shrugged lightly in response, as he continued, “Or maybe the day after that? A man can hope, Frida."

“You know what they say, Angelito,” your voice was soft, but he’d recognize the teasing lilt anywhere. He’d heard it so often at the breaking dawn of your relationship. Kindness, with a hint of subtle flirtation. It was just how you were. “Hope springs eternal.”

Angel nodded, tossing a few bills on the counter and gently rapping his ringed-knuckles against the counter, a he was wont to do. He smiled gently at you, all glimmering white teeth and high cheeks. 

As Angel walked away, head down and focused on his phone now as he headed out the door and toward his bike, you watched him leave. Your elbow on the counter and head propped in your hand. 

You wondered when Angel would discover the sticky, recalling the words you had written on it. 

my stark moments of clarity between hazy and woebegone memory (thanks to spilled red wine) -- are still marked by the firm hand of your bruising ardor.

Your phone buzzed, breaking you from your reverie as you looked down at the name flashing on the screen, an easy grin blooming across your features.

“Well, hey,” you greeted. Unable to keep the happy chirp from your voice at hearing from him again so soon.

“Hey, mama,” he greeted in that smooth, throaty rasp of his you adored. “You busy later?”   

---

Tagging: @cinewhore @superhoeva @blessedboo @rebeccasficrecs @themarcusmoreno @joannasteez @justanotherblonde23 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @huliabitch @ifimayhaveaword @flightlessangelwings @phoenixhalliwell @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb @ciriswife @witching-hour @lo-la-bu-ro @doloreschanal @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @skyesthebomb @artsymaddie @helli4nthus @xonickibaby @melancholyy-hill @jeonsblackgf-writes @dyke--grayson @pettyprocrastination @moonlight-prose @velvetmel0n @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @ticosas @withmyteeth @chibsytelford @whatupitshuff @themusingofagothicsoul @the-purity-pen @belowva @mayansxlover @emmaveale123 @maddie-georges @kijahslove @supertiffybee @jettia @spnaquakindgdom @abysshaven @starrynite7114 @thesandbeneathmytoes @cyarikashakira @calif0rnia-lovers​

[rqnvindr]

delicacies

pairing: baker!childe x gn!reader

genre: fluff, modern bakery!au, suggestive 

w.c: 1.5k

warnings: making out lol

synopsis: moving to a new country was quite the adventure. and you found new areas to travel further within the cute boy right down the road’s ocean eyes.

--

it had been a total of two weeks since you arrived in italy. getting settled was your top priority, but now that you’ve got your place set up and are getting used to college life in a new country, it was about time you started checking off some of the more leisurely activities on your checklist.

the streets were clearer, less busy than usual, on the weekend you enter the bakery. it seemed like an unpretentious, small business, with the simple, yet homely, beige walls and the old vinyl in the corner playing soft tunes. the bell rings when you enter, but no one seems to be behind the counter when you examine the array of cakes in the front display.

“welcome! i can help you when you’re ready to order!” a perky male voice interrupts you in the middle of eyeing a slice of strawberry cake. you look up to see a ginger with a warm smile, the crinkles around his blue eyes genuine. 

“hello! i was hoping to get this slice of cake right here.” you point to said strawberry treat.

“ah yes. my older brother has been WAITING for someone to try his new signature strawberry cake. but there honestly can’t be anything special about something that tastes the same no matter what.” you can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes as he takes the cake out to put it in a box. 

you raise an eyebrow. “complaining about your own products? that doesn’t seem like a very good marketing strategy, but i suppose reverse psychology will do its job.” 

“you sound like you know about sales quite a bit.” he smiles wryly. “are you a business major?”

“yup! i actually just moved here to study at the local university for an overseas program.” you only knew this guy for a maximum of 30 seconds, and he had already seemed so open and was able to read you like a book. it made you want to know more about him in exchange. 

“so your family bakes everything here?” you ask. 

“yes we do! my parents usually do the baking while my siblings and i work varying shifts here up front or stocking up the inventory. but we too, also experiment with different recipes to sell new things.” 

you hum in response. “you must have a lot of siblings then.”

the boy chuckles in response. “i do. i don’t know what i’d do without them.” he sounded so happy while talking about his family and it made you feel warm just hearing about how they worked together. 

“is this a competition for how much we can learn about each other within a span of a few minutes.” he smirks. “when we haven’t even learnt each others names yet?”

you inspect his attire, pausing at a name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. “ajax? nice to meet you, i’m (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), hope to see you again after trying my brother’s cake. hope it makes you realize that you gotta go for the chocolate or vanilla, not something that wasn’t meant to be a dessert in the first place.”

--

“i mean it was good so i came back for another one?” you can’t help but laugh when the same boy you met at the counter last week shakes his head.

“and you came to order right around closing time too, huh? guess this makes you a new challenge for me.” you avert your gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling nervous from his chastising. 

“fine, you can lose the pouty face. i’ll accept your questionable taste just this one last time.” he pushes his hair back with a sigh after packing up your order and you catch yourself staring. 

and of course, just when you allow yourself to indulge in the sight of a mysterious sea of unanswered questions in his blue eyes, he locks eyes with you. he knows you’re checking him out, causing him to smirk coyly. 

“ajax,” you begin, preventing the atmosphere from heading somewhere more tense. “have you lived here all of your life?” 

“as a matter of fact, no i haven’t. my family has been around, but i think we’ve finally found where we’re supposed to belong here. i’ve been living here long enough for people to start calling me by two different names too. ‘tartaglia’ and also ‘childe’.”

hm. so he was attractive and went by multiple names....

“‘tartaglia’? interesting, sounds like you’ve even earned yourself a name amongst the locals here.”

“i don’t know why they named me after the guy from that one play, though. maybe it’s because i leave a little bit of a stutter in people’s lives.” childe winks.

--

stutter, huh.

you thought he was just being a boastful young man. until you found yourself just happening to visit the bakery during times you predicted he’d be there. 

childe was like a peacock strutting his stuff out in the open, captivating, and divine. you had never met someone so adventurous yet down to earth at the same time. one moment he’d be bragging about his ventures with his friends, and then next thing you knew he’d do a 180 if his little brother called in the middle of your conversation. 

it wasn’t just his actions. he grew more bold with his words too. eyes shooting stars as he looked you up and down, noticing the new outfit you wore just for him when he purred about how good you looked and how it was always a treat to have someone as sweet as you visit after a long day at work. 

he was always full of surprises. you’re reminded of that when you find him standing behind the counter in a hoodie and jeans instead of his usual work attire.

“what’s up? disappointed that i’m not wearing the apron?” childe exits the space separating you two, and stands dangerously close to you. “don’t worry, i can put it back on when i show you the new frosting i’m working on.” he chuckles and rubs your shoulder, the small exchange of body heat making you feel warm all over.

“a new product, huh? is this to help your family business or to compete with your siblings?” you watch him count the cash at the register with your hands tucked underneath your chin. 

“sweetheart, even a guy like me can take on baking as a hobby rather than just a way to make ends meet or pick fights.” with that, he slides the cash register drawer closed. “come on, it should be processed by now.”

you slowly follow childe into the back. as promised, he puts the apron over his casual clothes, the sight rather domestic. 

he dips his finger into the light pink frosting after giving it one last stir and licks it off. the sight makes you shiver and lick your own lips.

“mmm. so i guess strawberry does taste pretty good. if done right of course.”

“what made you change your mind, mr.strawberry-anti?” you smirk.

“baking is a delicacy. i was never a ‘strawberry-anti’, just wary of how it’s supposed to mesh with desserts for the sake of compliancy. i made this frosting to test it out some more, and as a special treat. for you.”

before you can receive his gesture to claim your treat, childe gives you the same glimmering look that he always uses before pulling at your heartstrings even further. 

and it becomes way too much for you to handle when he leans his face closer to yours.

“here, have a taste.” childe teasingly presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he continues to leave gentle pecks on your lips, and you let out shaky breaths every time he pulls away.

“why did you stop?” you whine and he hovers over your entire body this time, pushing your hips onto the counter.

“hm, not enough? come closer then.” you wrap your arms around his neck, this time, getting a real taste of his creation when he claims your mouth whole. 

you grip onto his hair when he adds more pressure into the kiss, pulling especially harder when he nibbles on your bottom lip. as if having unlocked the key to your greatest depths, he effortlessly slides his tongue into your mouth, and you moan upon tasting the lingering strawberry flavor mixed with the feeling of your tongues connecting.

much to your dismay, you both pull away for air. your breaths mingle hotly before he coaxes you into taking a bit more for yourself. not long after you savor the sweetness, childe’s lips are back on yours. the way he sucks the cream off your lips makes your head spin, making you forget about everything else but this one boy in front of you, the mystery boy in a foreign country who sent you through a rollercoaster during only your first month of living here. 

“ajax...” you breathe out his name when he lets go of your now swollen and red lips. the boy proceeds to kiss your cheek and jawline gently, laughing softly against your skin.

“i can’t help it, baby. it tastes even better on you.”

[fairyhee]

Chocolate eclairs (pt.2)

{Part 1}

🍫 optional bias x reader

🍫 ~5.6k words

🍫 smut, enemies to lovers, slight dom/sub themes, praise kink, some dirty talk, oral (both receiving), face sitting (whew), reader has a thing for hands

(I might have dragged everything out for too long? I’m not sure, you tell me, but I just love thinking about all the details so I went with it. Also while I was writing, at some point I lost half of it and had to re-write it because the damn app didn’t save my changes to the draft 🙃 anyways thank you for reading!)

So far, nothing was going as planned today, but somehow you didn’t mind it anymore. At first you were extremely annoyed to say the least, but you slowly started to think having a tall and ridiculously handsome guy follow you around wasn’t so bad after all. Even though he was purposely being irritating, as always, just to get reactions out of you, it was worth enduring for the random flirty remarks he spat out every once in a while. Was he always like this? Did you only realize it now because you were too busy thinking how obnoxiously confident he was, or did he really also dislike you before? You were quite confused, but you at least thought you should enjoy the moment.

After buying those damn chocolate eclairs that you had been craving for a week, and after he insisted to pay, all while poking fun at how you were gonna die at a young age from how much sugar you consume, your next stop would have been the lingerie store. Except now you had him coming along with you, so you weren’t very sure what you should do. To buy some time, you pretended to look at all the stereotypically “romantic” objects that people usually gifted each other on Valentine’s day. Just for fun, you weren’t planning on hinting at anything, but you just wanted to see what he’d be like. Not to mention window shopping was one of your favorite activities when you had nothing else better to do. He, on the other hand, had his mind fixed on one thing solely.

“Y/n, aren’t we eating those eclairs? You didn’t want them just to carry them around, did you?” he asked with a pout.

“Excuse me, since when is there a ‘we’? They’re my eclairs, and I’m saving them for later. I told you I have plans, were you even listening to me?”

“You have plans, right. Well you should be careful then, that boyfriend you have plans with might get jealous if he sees you walking around with a guy like me. I honestly wouldn’t blame him if he felt threatened, after all, you just let the most handsome dude around here buy you coffee and sweets...oh wait, I forgot. You actually don’t have a boyfriend, do you now?” he said in a sarcastic tone. 

“It’s extremely funny that you think I need a man in order to have plans on Valentine’s day. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You can take care of yourself in what way exactly? Because if it’s what I’m thinking of, I bet I can do it better.”

“Thank you for your concern, h/n, but if you think you can buy your way into my pants with some sweets, then you have a very low and unrealistic expectation of me. If you want to impress me, try harder.”

“Oh don’t worry, this is far from my best shot. You just look so hot when you’re mad at me, I can’t stop myself.” he said with a sheepish laugh.

You blushed slightly, both at his words and from seeing him grinning so cutely. He had no business looking all cute like that after he had just literally suggested you sleep with him. How could he switch from being so cocky to getting shy for you in just a matter of seconds? You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d actually be like in bed. Especially since he had just showed a new side of him, a particular image of him being submissive to you was stuck on your brain. You could feel your face heating up, and you hoped he didn’t notice how red your cheeks had probably become.

Brushing it off, you entered a random toy store, feigning interest in some plushies. As you were admiring the various teddy bears that came in all shapes and colors, you noticed he had been surprisingly silent since your last exchange. You threw a glance at him and he seemed to have found some games he was interested in, as he had his eyebrows furrowed, trying to read the instructions on the back of some boxes. Perfect, you thought to yourself, now that he’s distracted, you could think of a plan. What the hell were you gonna do about the lingerie? You didn’t want to give up on buying it, you had wanted it for a long time and now was the perfect occasion. Did you want to go with him? Would he want to even enter the store with you? Would he become flustered and make things awkward? Would it be weird if you suddenly told him to leave you alone for a couple of minutes and meet you later? Or should you just end your meeting right there? You weren’t even sure how you wanted to spend the rest of the day anymore, but you for sure didn’t intend to abandon your plans completely for this man that barged into your solo Valentine’s day like that, despite the fact that you were starting to get interested in him.

While you were definitely overthinking the situation, h/n had long finished browsing the board games section. Suddenly, you felt someone’s hot breath near the side of your neck. 

“Y/n. You’ve been staring at that teddy bear for 3 minutes now. Did you not have any as a child, or do you want me to buy it for you that bad? You could just ask, you know.” 

Startled by the proximity of his voice, you turned your head to him and took a few steps away. “Wow, you sure have a talent for being rude. You’re still annoying even when you’re trying to hit on me.” you said trying to seem unaffected. However, you would lie if you said that feeling his breath on your skin didn’t send shivers down your spine. 

He chuckled at your reaction and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“So? Do you want it or not?”

“With that sort of attitude, I shouldn’t even answer. So what if I wanted it, what would you do? There’s nothing between us, so why would you buy it for me?” you taunted. You knew he was trying to make you soften up, but you weren’t falling for it just yet.

“Who said I’d buy it for you? If I did and you ended up sleeping with a stuffed toy every night, that would just be unfair.” he pouted. Why was he acting this cute now? This man was so confusing.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t wanna be jealous of a teddy bear. I’d rather you would sleep with me instead.”

You stared at his triumphant smile for a few seconds, at a loss for words. He looked like he just made the best pick-up line ever. It was so bad, yet you wanted to accept his wish and take him home. What was wrong with you? 

“You’re absolutely obnoxious, did you know that? Wipe that smirk off your face, you look like an idiot.”

He laughed. “But somehow you’re still putting up with me. I’d say you’re doing a great job enduring me. Unless...you’re actually enjoying my company, which I suspect you do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, I have one more thing to get before I can finally go home and get rid of you.”

You had made up your mind. You weren’t letting any man interfere with your plans.

Walking in the most confident way possible, you entered the lingerie store. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you looked through the pieces, searching for something that would match your taste. You were dying to know what his reaction was, what he was thinking, but you weren’t giving in. Suddenly, you had an idea. Acting like what you were doing was the most normal thing, you picked out two options, pretending you couldn’t decide between them. One was a black see-through set adorned with velvet hearts, while the other was made out of red lace and a bunch of straps that looked like a harness. Either way, both were made more to reveal rather than cover you up. Holding one in each hand, you turned to look at him with an unfazed expression plastered on your face.

“Make yourself useful for once and help me decide. Which one do I get?”

Seeing the way he was looking at you made a flush of heat spread across your face. His eyes were dark and he looked like he would have devoured you right then and there. You didn’t know what you expected, but this look was definitely not it.

He took a few seconds to respond, during which his gaze on you only seemed to intensify. He almost looked angry, clenching his jaw and eyeing you so strongly.

“You’d look great in both, but I’d take the red one.”

Hearing his choice, you immediately hung it back on the rack and took your other option to the cash register. 

You heard him scoff behind you. “Why bother asking me if you were gonna pick that one anyway?”. He was smiling, but it was clear that he was trying to control his frustration. 

You gave him the sweetest smile in the world. “I liked both equally and couldn’t decide, so I’m getting the one you like less. Since you’re never gonna see me wearing it anyway.”

“You drive me insane. That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Really? But you’re the one that’s been following me around all day. Now you’re angry with me, how come?” you said innocently.

He smirked and took a few steps until he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face, but you didn’t back away and maintained his gaze. His scent was intoxicating, and you were trying your best to not show how into him you were already.

“If you want to make me angry, you’ll have to try harder, babygirl.” you clenched your thighs hearing that word escape his lips. “I like your teasing a little too much, actually. But making me imagine you wearing all these pretty things only to point out that I can’t have you the way I want? I have to admit, that was pretty mean.”

“Are you challenging me? Then I guess I need to step up my game to really get back at you.”

“Alright then, let’s make a deal. If you fail to make me angry by tonight, you have to go on a date with me. What do you say?”

You couldn’t stop the smirk forming on the corner of your lips. “Deal. You know, now I kinda understand why you keep bothering me. It’s actually fun trying to get you annoyed.” This time you weren’t lying.

He smiled back at you. “Glad we’re on the same page about one thing at least. So, any other torturous shopping that we need to do today? An adult store, maybe, since you said you like to take care of things yourself?”

“Nice try. I actually have a table reserved for later today, so I’m gonna have to go home and get ready. I wanted to go alone and have some me-time, but since I don’t plan on losing that challenge, I guess now you gotta come with me.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,”he said and put the back of his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, “now it sounds like you’re the one asking me out. What happened? Are you okay?” he asked in an overly dramatic way. Oh great, now he was back to being the town circus. 

“It’s not a date, silly. Hopefully, it’s gonna be the worst dinner of your life, so I won’t have to see your face ever again.”

“You do know that I could just not show up and make you lose the bet, right?”

“If you do that, you won’t get my number. So no way to receive your prize.” Besides, you thought to yourself, wasn’t tonight already a date in itself? There was no way he would skip on that, or at least so you hoped. “See you at 6.” you said as you walked away, leaving him behind. 

By now your only desire was to get him totally whipped for you. He might have seen through your intentions already, but you couldn’t care less. The fights and arguments that were real in the beginning had now become an act, some sort of game to see which one of you would give in first. And you weren’t backing down until you had him completely wrapped around your finger. This year’s V-day turned out to be a lot more fun than you initially thought. 

After getting home, you took your sweet time showering and making yourself as pretty as possible. Having drenched yourself in perfume and strawberry scented body lotion, you put on the new lingerie and a red dress that complimented your figure. You did some minimal, but flattering make-up and took a good look in the mirror. You looked good enough to eat. Exactly what you wanted.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, he was already waiting for you, and you realized he had probably tried just as hard as you to look hot. And he had definitely done a great job. His hair was pushed back and the suit jacket he was wearing highlighted his broad shoulders and tall figure. You wanted him to push you against a wall right then and there.

“Are you sure you’re not made out of sugar? You look so good, I’m afraid that if I touch you, you’d melt under my fingers.”

“You wish. I don’t even get a hi, you start our conversation with a lame pick-up line? This evening is going to be even more boring than I thought.” you said rolling your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again too. Come on, let’s order quickly, I’m starving.” he said as he was already looking through the menu.

After this first exchange, the rest of the dinner actually went on pretty normally. Without realizing, you had gotten comfortable with each other and stopped arguing altogether. Now you were just chatting about whatever came to mind, enjoying your meals and each other’s company. However, you did notice his eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed neck and chest, which you did your best to bring forward as much as you could when you moved around. You were hyper aware of his gaze on every move you made and you loved the attention he was giving you. You felt like you were the only woman in the room for him, the only one that deserved his attention. You suddenly remembered you were supposed to get him angry, but you weren’t sure you didn’t want a second date after all. However, you felt the need to say something about it.

“Look at all these couples enjoying their romantic dinner, and then there’s us. Here for the sole purpose of annoying each other.”

“If that was the purpose, I’d call this an epic fail.” he said with a smile and took a sip of his gin tonic,”So you still don’t want to admit that this is, in fact, a date?”

“Why would it be one, when we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary? We are just two people eating out together.”

“Good thing the evening isn’t over, then. Great choice of restaurant, by the way. But even though the food was amazing, I’d still prefer eating you out.” 

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you let the glass you were previously holding down on the table with a little more force than intended. From the impact, your drink splashed everywhere, including on yourself.

You moved a bit of the fabric of your dress away so you could wipe the martini drops that had just spilled on your chest, which uncovered the strap and the top part of your bra for a few seconds. You didn’t think much of it, but heard him swallow loudly. When you raised your eyes back to meet his, he was looking at you like he wanted to undress you with his eyes.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what on purpose?” you asked confused.

“Don’t act so innocent, you know exactly what I’m saying.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, care for dessert? You need some sugar in your system, you seem to be turning grim again.”

“If by dessert you mean you, then I’ll gladly accept. You have enough sugar to keep me up for a long time.” he said with a smirk.

“Oh god, can you cut the disgusting jokes out? You make me sick.” 

“You’ll be even more disappointed to find out they’re not jokes. By the way,” he leaned over the table so he could bring his face a little closer to yours, “we’ve almost finished our drinks and you still haven’t made me angry. Time is ticking.” 

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, and played with your necklace while deep in thought. You were done playing this game. You wanted him, and you wanted him tonight. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but ever since you stepped foot in that place all you had been imagining were his veiny hands all over your body, how pretty his long fingers were and how much you wanted them inside you. He hadn’t even touched you once, but your panties were feeling damp already just by staring at his hands or seeing him clenching his jaw. You hadn’t noticed that your fidgeting with your necklace had caught his attention and he was now practically staring at your boobs without any hint of shame in his eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down as his eyes set your skin ablaze and your thoughts ran wild. Of course his gaze didn’t miss your heavy breathing. His fist was clenched on his glass and the veins on his arm protruded even more than usual. Your brain was so intoxicated with him that it completely forgot how to form sentences, leaving him without a reply. He leaned closer to you over the table and all but whispered.

“Just say the words, and I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do is say it.”

You hesitated, questioning whether you should swallow your pride or not. You stared into his deep brown eyes, glistening with lust, and admired his plump, slightly parted lips, silently pleading for you to stop this stupid game and finally admit what you’re feeling for each other. He was done playing, and so were you.

“It’s finally time for those eclairs.” 

A knowing smile spread on his face, as if he had just won the lottery.

The ride to your place was awfully silent. You felt like you could cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife. Sitting near him in the back of the cab and just feeling his presence so close to you kept your skin burning up during the entire ride. He still hadn't touched you in the slightest, not even on your hand, and at this point you thought it was intentional just so you'd become desperate for him. It was working. It felt like the drive was taking ages, so you decided to have some fun and tease him a little.

You slowly slid your hand over your legs, starting from your knees and going up towards the hem of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly. He noticed your movements instantly, and his eyes snapped to you. Now that you were assured he was watching, your hand traveled further under your dress, carefully so it doesn't reveal too much, and started running your own fingers across your damp panties.

His eyes widened, and you saw his adam's apple move when he swallowed a lump in his throat. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.

"What does it look like to you? I am an independent woman. Since you have not laid a hand on me all day, I'm doing it myself."

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" you maintained his gaze but didn't stop your actions, slipping a finger underneath your underwear and whimpering ever so quietly, enough for only him to hear. You were determined to bring him down.

Like you had just pressed a button, his body reacted to your sounds faster than expected. The vein on his hand twitched as he quickly grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

"If you don't stop that, I’ll make sure you have trouble walking tomorrow." his words sent a shiver down your spine. With that, he firmly pulled your hand away and intertwined his fingers with yours, as if preventing you from causing more trouble. You decided to obey him, for now.

After a couple of minutes, you were arriving at your place. He followed you silently into the building and into the small elevator, where you were met with another crisis. He looked like he tried really hard to restrain himself as he leaned with his back and head against the mirror. He was looking at you through furrowed brows and hooded eyes, and you wondered why did he put himself through this struggle, when he could’ve had you right then and there. Pretending to check your mascara in the mirror behind him, you placed one hand on his chest and leaned over him, your face dangerously close to his neck, making sure your exposed cleavage pressed against him in the process. You didn’t care how obvious it was, he was clearly enjoying it. He did nothing but watch you, but his sigh and accelerating breath rate were giving him away. As soon as you reached your level, you instantly shot out of the elevator and got to your door in record time. 

The moment you set foot into the apartment and closer the door behind you, any control that you had before, just vanished into thin air. 

“Fucking finally”. He wasted no time in pressing you against the wall, both hands holding the sides of your face while he kissed you with all the pent up frustration from that day. You could feel his whole body onto you and yet you wanted more, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging at it in an attempt to bring him even closer. His lips were soft but aggressive at the same time, the kiss neither too intense nor too slow, earning chills all over your spine the first time his warm tongue entered your mouth. It was still not enough, so you took over and laced your fingers at the back of his head, pulling on his hair while pushing yourself into him. His hands started traveling down your body, gripping your waist and hips with force as he pulled you even closer, making you feel his erection against you in the process. 

Out of breath, you broke the kiss to take a good look at him in this state. He was looking at you through glossy, hooded eyes, with his plump lips parted and glistening from the intensity of your kiss. He looked so hot, you realized you might not make it to the bedroom. 

Closing in the distance once again, his hands went to squeeze your ass through your dress as he started placing wet kisses down the side of your neck, painfully slowly, sending shivers all over your spine. You lifted a leg up to snake around his own, as if to invite his hands to stop wasting time and get under your skirt already.

“You’re surprisingly gentle for someone who’s been trying to get into my pants all day.” you felt him squeeze your ass harder, and he suddenly bit the soft skin under your ear and sucked on it, earning a gasp from you.

He didn’t reply, but instead slid his hand up your thigh and ran his fingers over your soaking panties.

“And you’re surprisingly wet for someone who supposedly hates me.” he teasingly rubbed the tip of his finger on your clothed clit, making you whine in response. It was almost as if the fabric wasn’t there at all, given how thin it was in the first place. “What did you buy this pretty underwear for, just to ruin it later?”

“Since when do you care about my lingerie?”

“I thought you wanted me to, since you brought me with you to that store and even asked for my opinion.” He pushed your panties to the side and properly coated his fingers with your juices. “You were such a dirty little slut for doing that to me.” his words shot straight to your core.

“Me, dirty? That little head of yours has a lot of issues. It’s your own fault for liking me in the first place.” you teased.

Hearing that, he pushed two fingers into your hole and you moaned. “You can talk shit all you want, but your body can’t lie about how much you want me, princess.” He pulled his hand away from your core, and took his own fingers, now coated with your essence, into his mouth, licking them clean. “Now be a good girl and take this dress off for me.” he said, pulling away from you. 

Not wanting to torture yourself any longer, you obeyed him, getting rid of your dress as quickly as possible. As he finally fully saw you in the pretty underwear, he eyed you from head to toe, as if he was looking at his prey, swallowing loudly. “Y/n, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You pushed him back and led him to the couch, making him sit down. You quickly straddled his lap, making sure your boobs were right in his face as you grabbed the hair at the back of his head and brought your mouth to his ear, licking a stripe up from the side of his neck, reaching his earlobe. He shivered under you, and you started unbuttoning his shirt, while both his hands stroked over your boobs, touching your nipples and lightly pinching and twisting them over the thin material of the bra. The sensation was spreading into your entire body, making you moan right into his ear. You nibbled onto his earlobe, and he sighed loudly, grabbing your ass and pulling you on top of his dick, grinding into you. Your fingers ran over his now exposed chest and down to his belt, trying to get it undone. He grabbed your hands and undid it himself, and you stood up so he could get rid of his pants. 

Instead of sitting back on his lap, you dropped to your knees in between his legs and pulled his underwear down. His cock looked so red and hard, it seemed almost painful, and made your mouth water. You wanted to torture him some more though, so you stuck your tongue out and slowly ran it up from the base to his swollen tip, all while looking directly into his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his lower lip so hard, as if to keep him from making any sound. You were going to change that. You swirled your tongue around the tip, collecting the drops of precum, before taking him whole into your mouth. As you started bobbing your head, you made sure to take a little more of him each time, pushing your own limit gradually, looking up at him from time to time. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this. You’re taking me so well.” he said, trying to keep himself from forming any other sounds, and you wondered why wasn’t he letting go already. You wanted to make him a moaning mess. One of your free hands started playing with his balls, as you ran your nails across his thigh with the other one. Going a little deeper, his cock hit the back of your throat, and you paused for a second, swallowing around him, which earned a long, breathy moan from him. There, that was your reward. You continued taking him as deep as you could, looking up at him with wide eyes. This was his breaking point, as he couldn’t control his sounds anymore, his mouth was agape, letting out small grunts and whimpers now and then, and you felt his hips struggling to keep still. As the ache in your pussy was getting unbearable because of your actions, your own hand came to play with your clit to get some sort of release, moaning around his cock. 

He didn’t miss this, as suddenly, his hand flew to your hair and he held you still. “Don’t you dare touch yourself. Get up” he said in a demanding voice. He followed you up himself, and completely slid his shirt and underwear off of him, then laid down on the carpet. “I want you to sit on my face. Let me have my dessert and enjoy you like you deserve.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. After discarding your panties, you placed your knees on either side of his head and carefully lowered your cunt closer to him, but he grabbed your ass and aggressively pulled you onto his mouth, making you gasp and grip the couch beside you for support. The feeling of his wet and warm tongue against you was making your thighs weak. He started by licking a long stripe across your folds, then alternated between sucking at your clit, drawing patterns with his tongue across your sensitive spot at different paces and intensities. Your sounds and whimpers were a mess, and you could feel your orgasm building with each second. He was eating you out like a starved man, face buried completely under your pussy, and the view was only contributing to your arousal. One of his hands snaked up to your nipple and started playing with it, adding to the sensation. When he suddenly applied more pressure to a certain angle, you thought you were gonna lose your mind. “Fuck, h/n, right there, please, don’t stop” was what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure your words came out coherently. Either way, he got the message, and a few seconds later, you were coming undone on his tongue, letting out a few high-pitched moans as he helped you ride out your high.

After regaining composure, you stood up to let him breathe. His lips and chin were glistening from your juices, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. “That was delicious. You’re a fucking goddess, did you know that?” he said as he stood himself up, grabbed your face and kissed you with force.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” he said as he pushed you against your table, having you lie down on it. He quickly grabbed a condom from his jeans and rolled it on his still painfully hard cock. Grabbing your legs and holding them on each side of him, he rubbed the tip of his member over your clit a few times before fully pushing it into your tight hole, swearing in the process. He wasted no time before moving, slowly at first to let you adjust, then suddenly slammed his hips into you with force, earning a loud moan from you. “Fuck, do that again, please” you said, already feeling your second orgasm starting to build up. He thrusted into you harder and deeper, filling the room with your sounds everytime his skin met yours. The way he filled you up was absolutely delicious, clouding your vision and making you lose yourself in your pleasure as he was hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“Ever since your brought me into that store, all I could think of was fucking you in your pretty lingerie, imagining how your boobs would bounce up and down while I pound into you like this.” you took his hand and brought it to your lips, silently asking him to let you suck onto his fingers. “You don’t know how much of a torture that wa- fuck” you took his long and pretty fingers into your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, mimicking the way you sucked him off earlier and watching him lose his ability to speak as his mouth hung open. “H/n, harder, don’t stop, I’m going to come.” you said in a desperate attempt to get him to shut up and concentrate. Motivated by your words, he increased his pace, and after a few more hard and sloppy thrusts, you reached your second orgasm, soon followed by his own. His whole body twitched as he came down from his high, both of you panting, and exhausted.

Pulling out of you, he quickly discarded the condom and took you into his arms to place both you and him comfortably on the couch.

“That was fucking hot” he said, still holding you in his arms while you were catching your breaths. 

“Yeah. I think I might hate you a little less after this.” you said and you both laughed.

After coming back to your senses, you got up and went straight to the kitchen. A few seconds later, you came back holding the box he bought you from the french bakery, handing him an eclair.

“I knew why I saved those chocolate eclairs for later. They taste better after you’ve been craving them all day, don’t you think?”

He just smiled in response. “You might be right. By the way, I won. It seems like you’ll be drinking ice americanos again, after all.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Princess | JJ Maybank

Warnings; jealousy, mentions of drugs, and use of drugs.

Find my masterlist here

She was rising through the ranks on figure eight, and soon, she would overtake the one, the only, Sarah Cameron. It was infuriating, no one had heard of this prissy girl in a while, and here she was, already beginning to replace the blonde.

“Uh.” Sarah groaned, noticing how even her brother was flocking over you, even Topper had returned to the dark side after his helpful stunt.

“What’s wrong Cameron?” JJ asked her, following her eyeline, and carrying his gaze along it, until he found the centre of her irritable - a group of kooks, her own.

“The princess is back in town.” She groaned, noticing how you walked through your entourage, oblivious to any of the pogues that resided on this side of the island. It was as though you didn’t hold a grudge against their species, but that was her thing, you were just trying to copy her actions.

Hell, for all she knew, you’d hook up with a southsider too, and attend the parties at the boneyard as though you were one of their own.

She knew her attitude towards you was petty, but she just couldn’t help it. You now had everything that she had lost, she was even stared down by her dad and step mother, both of whom were mildly disappointed in the side that she had taken within the whole ordeal.

“I thought that was you.” JJ noticed how her mood had turned sour, and he was aware that it was his duty to cheer her up. If John B returned with their drinks, and saw that his girlfriend was displeased, he would be the one to take the blame as it was his company that was keeping her from boredom.

“That girl.” She pointed you out, JJ’s eyes scanning every dip and curve, each mark and mole, upon your body, memorising every inch of- “is the kook. Used to have the mantle of princess before I did. Don’t dirty your hands with her Maybank, she’s a spoilt brat, and whatever she wants, she gets.”

“A kook? Not my type.” He assured her, the whole form of your beautiful being crumbling in his eyes, all because of what you essentially were. A golden finger, in the dirt of his home.

🏹

The Cameron’s house was large, but you smiled, knowing that you lived in one with a bigger foundation, and more floors. Material items were value on the island, it gave way to status.

“Hi Mr Cameron.” You greeted him, with a pristine smile that would knock him dead. Rafe was beside you, content with your obliviousness to the things that he had done.

His father had told him to find a rich, pretty thing. They were the least suspecting ones, too occupied with spending cash and dolling themselves up. It is what he himself had done, after he had worked his way up to kook status, but the wife he now had, well she was as devious and power hungry as him. They fit perfectly.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you, not only from my son but practically the whole island. Is it good to be back?” He shook your hand, noticing the small smile slip onto his son’s face.

“It’s great, nowhere is quite like home.” The hierarchy on Outer Banks was its most predominant feature, no where else quite had an order that lacked most of itself in the same way.

“I need to talk to Rafe here for a moment, would you mind waiting here?” He expectedly asked, and once more, you could only plaster on a false expression, and happily nod.

“Not at all.” Was your reply, and as soon as they had disappeared, you were left awaiting for their return. You plucked at the skin around your nails, and tapped your foot, trying to reduce the enveloping silence that made you feel small and anxious.

Another person entered the room, making you slowly spin to greet them. It was Sarah, and a look of worry crossed over her face, it was quite amusing. The Sarah Cameron, was concerned for you.

“Rafe isn’t a good guy.” She spoke slowly, thinking that you were interested in her older sibling. It made you quirk your eyebrow in surprise, you had never expected her to talk about her family to you, or at all in general. “You can do a lot better.”

“Don’t worry Sarah, I don’t want him, nor do I want to be the so called ‘princess’ of this wealthy establishment. I hate figure eight, it sucks. It’s boring, it’s just parties here, and parties there, but they’re all sophisticated and you have to dress nicely. Sure, the luxury is great, the expectations of washing your hair every day, wearing perfume that literally burns my eyes, and having to dress so- ugh, it’s just gross. You can take the throne back if you want, it’s not too comfortable, it squeezes me in all th wrong places.”

Your paragraph of speech left Sarah in shock, you had been faking it all along. The laughs were all pretend, the smiles were all forced, and she no doubt had one thing left on my mind. “Then why, out of all the kooks, are you hanging it with my brother?”

Nonchantly you shrugged, a sparkle flaring in your eyes. “He thinks he’s gonna get laid, and so until he realises that he isn’t, and he can’t touch this hot bod, then I get free weed.”

“Well played y/l/n, well played.” Nobody had used Rafe and had to give nothing in return, yet you had found the perfect trick.

“He also thinks I’m a virgin, sooooo, my contract is going to last a while, I suppose.” She almost laughed at that, she wondered how you had given him that impression in the first place. Before you had moved, she had seen you makeout and consentually grope countless guys, leading them to dark corners and your empty car.

It wasn’t something that she had ever admit, but for the first time in her life, she thought that you’d make the perfect friend. You sounded just like a pogue, but instead you were living the ‘high life’, and rolling in the cash and smokes that were thrown your way, with no charge.

🏹

JJ on instinct, creased his face up at the sight of Sarah leaving John B and the others at the boneyard, only to walk over to an intruder. She had told him that she didn’t like her, however her stride and smile supposed otherwise.

“Who’s that?” John B leant over his friend’s shoulder, watching his girlfriend interact with a stranger.

“The kook princess.” JJ informed him, spitting the name out of his mouth, glaring at the kook that had the nerve to once again, walk onto his side of his island. And not only that, but to invite herself to the party.

“She got a name?” John B asked, and that was when JJ realised, that he didn’t know it. Before you had moved, you kept to your side of the island, but the times were changing, with relationships and friendships between pogues and kooks beginning. All you wanted was to be accepted, and if they didn’t like the fact that you were born a kook, then that was most definitely their problem.

“Hey, I’m so glad that you could make it.” Sarah greeted you, you shyly smiled, still not familiar with her being so polite to you. You’d notice her cast you the stink eye on more than one occasion, and how she would speak about you at school in the time prior to your move away.

“I still don’t understand why you invited me.” You honestly said, uncertain by her intentions. If she had other motivations, then you could deal with them, she wouldn’t be the first one to try and challenge you for your position. And either way, you didn’t want it, it were only a weight on your shoulders, but some kooks wanted you to remain their royalty, and so by their reputation, you did.

You pulled a blunt from your shorts pocket, and lit it, inhaling slowly and awaiting an answer from the relaxant. It calmed you, and made the thoughts of being the only kook here, excluding Sarah, go away.

“I want you to meet my friends.” She spoke, and you nodded, more entertained by the smoke that rolled out of your mouth than her intentions. Her hand grabbed your own, and she began to drag you through the sea of people, until she reached a small fire pit, where four people were sat.

You already knew of them, John B being the one on your side of the island the most. It of course was because of Sarah, and her successful attempts to seduce him, and sneak him into her room.

“This is y/n.” She told them, and you didn’t notice the way JJ focused on the weed that hung from the clasp of your fingers. He was surprised by the consumption you had of it, and watched intently as you went in for another puff.

You weren’t just a kook, you were a stoner. Perhaps the two of you had something in common after all, maybe you weren’t this spoilt brat entirely.

🏹

“Pass me the goddamn lighter J!” You beckoned at the blonde, who held the red automatic match out of your reach. On instinct, you crossed your arms, and poured, causing the boy to laugh.

“Don’t do that, you look like a spoiled kook.” His words only earnt himself a glare, and so he reached down, plucked your blunt between his fingers, and lit it. He took a puff before placing it between your own lips. “Technically we just kissed.”

“Geez, I really am spoilt.” You rolled your eyes, as the pair of you stood out of the chateau, where it was the two of you alone. Everyone else was inside, watching a movie, and they didn’t want to get high off the fumes, instead they’d rather remember the ‘cinematic details’, as Pope put it.

“It was a joke Princess.” He rubbed your head, messing up your hair, but he knew that you didn’t care. Appearances weren’t your most entailed feature, you only dressed up to the nines to please your parents. But here, with him and the rest of your friends, you could be yourself. You weren’t a kook or a pogue, instead you were just y/n.

“You need to stop going on about kissing me Maybank, otherwise I might think that it’s something you actually want to do.” You smirked, noticing how his cheeks reddened slightly, and the normally confident male gulped.

“Well...” before he could say more, you lightly pushed him, but he soon grabbed you, and the blunt out of your mouth. “Maybe I do.”

“Maybe I want you to as well.” You flirted with him, eyes darting between where he was licking his lips, and the blunt that was gently held in the pads of his fingertips. “Tell you what, if I gift you with a kiss, I get my property back.”

“Princess you gotta stop that, you can’t call me your property, I’m a person too babes.” You groaned at that, he knew full well what you were speaking about, but he had to be a tease in every conversation that the pair of you had.

“Shut your mouth pogue.” Your words weren’t what shut him up, instead you grasped the fabric of his baggy, sleeveless shirt, and pulled his mouth to your own, your tongue instantly prying its way towards his own, breaking through the seal of his lips.

Distracted, he dropped the blunt, and cupped both sides of your face. He was in heaven, finally he had given into the kook, and vice versa. He was glad to have learnt your name, and everything that you had to offer.

[guqin-and-flute]

nieyao or 3zun + prompt 64 with cat!baxia

64. “I think your cat wants to kill me.” [This got way away from me WHOOPS]

“So. This date is going fantastically. Do I make top 10?”

Meng Yao huffed a short, polite laugh through his nose at Mingjue’s rueful question. “Being nursed back to health by a handsome man is certainly adding back points lost in the cat attack,” he replied, and some of the frustrated dread bled from the ball in Mingjue’s chest. “I really could do this myself, you know,” he added.  

Mingjue sighed. “Yeah, well, since it was my cat attack, I feel like I need to make reparations. I’ve also taken First Aid more times than I can count and cat scratches can get really nasty.” 

If this were a one of the sappy romcoms Huaisang loved so much, standing at the sink together as he tended to the 2 gashes scoring down Meng Yao’s forearm with several antiseptic soaked cotton balls had the potential to be romantic. Except Mingjue had never liked those movies and he just felt like a fucking asshole who owned an unruly animal.

He had met Meng Yao at the grocery store. Mingjue had looked up from his phone at the sound of a sharp voice--a middle aged business man was snapping at a young man in front of him in line; "Fucking Christ, you're going to hold up everyone."

"You can go ahead of me if you'd like--"

"There's a whole line of people here! We all have places to go!"

The man being yelled at--(the very attractive man with round, dark eyes, he noted)--had grimaced placatingly, as the cashier was saying, "We can hold his groceries while he goes out, sir, you won't have to wait."

A the business man threw his hands into the air in disgust, Mingjue had slid his phone into his back pocket and interrupted in his 'is this guy bothering you' voice; "What's the problem?"

3 pairs of eyes had darted to him immediately and gone wide. The very good looking man had tensed completely, eyes darting to the door in a way that looked involuntary--and well, Mingjue had been struck by the completely overwhelming urge to tuck him back behind him and make this asshole between them shit his pants in fear. And anyone else that made him look that scared, for that matter. "I'm sorry," the scared, attractive, adorable, fragile-looking, harassed young man had said a tight smile, "I forgot my wallet in my car, we can just--"

"Here," Mingjue slid out his credit card handed it--pointedly--over Mr. Business-Asshole's head to the cashier. "I'll cover it. You know what," he had added, fixing the quickly wilting dickhead with his best 'I-can-bench-press-you-and-then-feed-you-your-own-esophagus-no-problem' stare, "Why don't you get the nice lady behind me, too. Once this guy is done running for the biggest jackass award. I'll wait."

And, you know, weirdly enough, Mr. Asshole had actually left the line, red faced and without his shitty little protein shakes. As the cashier bit back a grin and rung up the card, the harassed young man--who was even prettier up close, holy hell, it made his lower back sweat--had tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, that really, he had the money, he could just go get it, he appreciated it but didn't need Mingjue to put himself out. Mingjue had just shrugged and held out his hand. "It's the principle of the thing. Nie Mingjue."

The man had opened his mouth, looked down at his hand; then, he had smiled and holy goddamn fucking shitballs he had dimples. Shaking it firmly in a hand that was soft and cool and slim, he had said, "Then...thank you. Meng Yao. I'll have to pay you back. Do you have a cash app?"

"Don't bother."

"I insist."

"You can buy me dinner sometime, then," Mingjue's mouth had decided to say without permission, but luckily he agreed with the idea and so had been quite pleased to see Meng Yao's ears go pink.

"...That sounds fair," he replied, finally, those lovely dimples returning.

The cashier had cleared their throat, brightly. "Do you by chance have our loyalty card?"

They agreed on a first date in a public restaurant where they could verify that the other wasn’t some sort of serial killer. It had even been a nice one that Meng Yao had insisted on where they had also shared a bottle of wine and interesting conversation. Meng Yao was exceedingly smart and easy to talk to--the perfect conversational partner with a knack for solving many of the problems that Mingjue hadn't even realized he complained about. In return, he had made his attraction quite clear and Meng Yao had ducked his head.

"I'll have you know that I don't go home with anyone on the first date," he had said carefully, eyes on his fingertip as he ran it around the rim of his wineglass. "It's a personal rule of mine. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"That's fine with me," Mingjue shrugged. "If you're up for it, I'll wait for as many dates outlasts your rule, 'cause I grill a mean steak."

Those dimples came back and he had sat back in his chair, voice light as he asked, "Oh? Won't you get bored?"

Mingjue had snorted and finished off his glass. "Just because I'd like to sleep with you doesn't mean I don't also want to get to know you, you know."

Mingjue was just getting to know the guy, so he couldn't be sure, but that answer seemed to please him.

The night of the cat disaster was the 4th on their run of dates--Mingjue had shooed Huaisang over to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s house for the night and invited Meng Yao over via text for dinner and a movie and also the option of sex, if he wanted. 

Apparently, the bluntness had made Meng Yao laugh. Mingjue had texted back that he preferred honesty in all things and could handle a ‘no, thanks’ with plenty maturity. Meng Yao had replied, ‘I’m sure you can,’ which, he had very keenly noticed, was not a ‘no, thanks.’

Dinner had gone great--homemade meals always seemed to impress--and they had been preparing to split a chocolate lava cake in front of a shitty action movie they had both agreed on with the understanding that neither of them minded missing anything if they decided fooling around was more interesting.

But now, there was blood everywhere--on the dishes in the sink, on the towel they had hastily staunched it with, on the countertop and the mood was ruined because his giant, grumpy ass cat had decided to savage his date as they were cleaning up the table. Baxia had sniffed his leg suspiciously when he first came in, flinching away as he knelt down to offer his fingers. Then, she had fixed him with a glare, hissed, and turned around and stalked away, fluffy gray tail held high--which, for her, was practically a warm welcome. She had her boys--Huaisang and Mingjue--and hated pretty much everyone else (except for Wei Wuxian's older sister Jiang Yanli when she had dropped him off to hang out with Huaisang when his license got suspended. Which had happened a few times, now).

Everything had been fine with her while they ate--she had even spent it under the table, rubbing up against Mingjue's legs, staring up at Meng Yao without making so much as a peep. It was when they had risen that disaster struck. She had hopped up onto Meng Yao's chair and decided to take personal offense to his existence with absolutely no warning at all when he passed by with his hands full of silverware.

Now, Meng Yao’s long fingers curled into a fist as the cotton passed over a particularly deep part of the slice, though his face remained calm, so Mingjue winced for him. "Sorry. I swear, she's never done this before, I don't know what the hell her problem is."

Meng Yao shook his head, smile pressed and polite as he said, "Really, it's fine." He shifted on his feet to lean his hip against the cupboards and, immediately, Mingjue seized his elbows. 

“Are you dizzy?”

The other man had stiffened at the sudden movement, staring up at him. Then, he blinked and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm alright.”

Mingjue eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure?”

He laughed. “I’m not going into shock, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had much worse, trust me. I’m not going to pass out.”

Mingjue remained unconvinced. Instead of arguing further, he simply lifted him by the waist to sit on the island across from the sink for lack of a chair. Meng Yao let out the beginning of a squeak, hands automatically flashing up to bunch in the front of his shirt for balance. He blinked down at Mingjue, then the ground, then back at him, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Mingjue couldn't tell if it was annoyance, horniness, or a combination of both--and that was all well and good except that he was still bleeding and he knew from experience what a bitch blood was to get out of clothing. So he just pulled Meng Yao's arm out again and went back to work, asking, "So what was the 'much worse'?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you knew you're not going to pass out because you've had 'much worse'. What's the story there?"

"Ah. No story. I broke my arm. Compound fracture. I stayed awake the whole time, so a cat scratch is fairly minor, in comparison."

Mingjue hissed in through his teeth reflexively in sympathy and scanned him. Either he healed fantastically or the scar was higher up on his arms, under the soft cream sweater sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows--luckily, they had been rolled up before the attack and had escaped blood thus far. "Fuck. How'd that happen?"

"Fell down some stairs."

Mingjue raised an eyebrow at the stark explanation. "Well, maybe you shouldn't fall down stairs. Ever thought of that?"

Meng Yao smiled thinly down at him, dark eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. "Mm. I'll have to keep that in mind." The dimples he searched for avidly were there, faintly, and Mingjue found himself wanting to nibble on them.

They hadn't done much else besides a kiss goodnight in the shadows near the entrance to the parking garages of their dates, because Mingjue was being good and keeping his hands above the belt. And he should probably figure out whether or not this date was going to have the eject button pressed, first. There was blood everywhere, still.

"Why all the First Aid classes?" Meng Yao asked suddenly, keeping his arm extended out even as Mingjue released him to rummage for the antibacterial spray. "Was it because your demon cat kept attacking people?"

Mingjue barked out a laugh and sprayed down his arm--Meng Yao didn't flinch. "At first, it was for lifeguarding, every summer since I was 16 until I graduated college. Now, I take refresher courses because I run a martial arts studio and shit can get real real fast, especially with newbies who try to fuck around." Tearing open the packet of sterilized gauze with his teeth so he could still hold his arm, he situated it and held it with a gentle thumb. "Tape or gauze wrap?"

Meng Yao shrugged. "I have no preference. Surprise me."

Gauze wrap it was. It would hurt less than pulling tape off his arm later. Meng Yao watched him finish up quietly, ankles linked, posture straight and proper even sitting on a kitchen counter. On impulse, Mingjue lifted his now bandaged arm and kissed the skin of his wrist, just below where the gauze stopped and got a slight shiver for his trouble. He looked up at him, then, an angle he was not used to but was definitely enjoying. "This has been a piss poor date. I really am sorry."

"The dinner was lovely before it ended in bloodshed, I promise," Meng Yao assured him, smiling. Then, it grew a little sly and he leaned in, slowly, stretching his arms out over Mingjue's shoulders to link behind his neck. "Although, you could always kiss it better."

Well, there was no possible way to misinterpret that particular invitation and he heartily took it, snugging Meng Yao up against him with hands on his hips and devouring him just as indulgently as he would the forgotten lava cake cooling on the stove top. He hummed in appreciation as Meng Yao's arms wrapped tighter, his thighs squeezing around his hips as he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He tasted like the dry wine they had finished the meal with.

All at once, though, Meng Yao froze, hands stilling in his hair. Before Mingjue had time to be confused, he whispered against his mouth, "I think your cat wants to kill me," eyes fixed on something over Mingjue's shoulder.

Mingjue craned his neck around to find Baxia perched on the counter next to the sink, tail swishing, gaze locked with Meng Yao, ears flicked out to the sides. She let out a low, quiet growl.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Mingjue growled back. "That's it. You're going in Huaisang's room for the night."

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Spirited Away

It was going to be "the road trip of the century", or at least that's how your friends put it when they were trying to convince you to do something for summer break other than working. 

"Come ooonnn y/n, all you do is work and study! You have to join us, you're gonna die of boredom at this rate!" Audrey whines and throws herself over your shoulders, almost making you drop your overpriced coffee. 

"Not everyone has a scholarship or parents to pay for their degree Audrey, some of us have to work to be here. I can't afford to take two weeks off if I want to pay for the semester." Taking a sip of your coffee a grimace crawls across your face as the sugar hits you full force, "Remind me never to take a coffee suggestion from Rosie again." 

"She's a sweet girl so it makes sense she'd drink liquid diabetes, but stop trying to change the subject you have to go with us this year!" The red head pulls the cup from your hand to take a swig then makes a face that matches your own before dumping the coffee into the nearest trash can. "Girl, you haven't gone on any trips the entire time you've been here. Live a little for once in your life, we are just driving up to Bentley's family cabin. What's the worst that could happen?" 

After some more relentless badgering from your three friends and a promise of paying for this semester for you all four of you set off, and as you sit and listen to Bentley and Audrey bicker about if Chris Hemsworth was hotter than Chris Pine you were glad you came. All the windows were rolled down so you guys could enjoy the fresh air, and to help you with your car sickness. Your head was almost out the window as you tried to push the nausea away, the trees rushed by making you feel more sick. You shut your eyes hoping it will help and doze off. 

By the time you wake up the sun is setting, the car is parked and your friends are outside, unbuckling you get out and join them. "Man Bentley, your parents really let their house go, look at all these trees." 

"Yeah I've been meaning to tell them trees are so last century. Rosie got us lost and I'm trying to figure out where we are." Bentley was hunched over the hood of his car staring at a paper map. The blonde huffs and crosses her arms, "It's not my fault the phone signal crapped out, you should have downloaded the map!" 

You check your phone and sure enough you were in a dead zone, slipping it back into your pockets. "Bentley, you come out here every year with your family, how could you get lost?"

"I don't drive when we do! Get off my back and give me a minute, okay." 

Rosie opens her mouth to tease him too but is interrupted by Audrey shouting for you three to come see what she found. With a huff Bentley folds the map as the three of you make your way to her. Audrey was standing in front of a large man-made tunnel hidden behind old oak trees. The stone pathway looked old with grass and wildflowers growing wildly between the cracks, in the entryway of the tunnel stood a small stone tower that seemed fragile enough to fall over in the wind. Parts of the tunnel wall crumbled under Rosie's hand as she ran it across the plaster. "This place has seen better days. Who do you suppose put it here?" 

Bentley scratched his chin, "If I remember correctly, some company was building a theme park out here, but the project was scrapped when they realized no one would drive this far out to see it. Guess they laid some of the foundation before then."

Just then a gust of wind blew behind you inching you all closer to the entrance, "It's like it's pulling us in. Let's go check it out!" Aubrey states as she starts walking through the tunnel Bentley and Rosie follow right behind her. 

"Guys let's just head back to the car, I'm exhausted and could really use a nap."

"Come on y/n, how often do you get the chance to sneak into an abandoned amusement park? Let's make some memories!" Aubrey yells back at you from halfway through the tunnel, with a huff of annoyance you stuff your hands into your shorts pockets and start down the pathway. The tunnel was longer than you thought and the further you went in the more run down it looked. Maybe it was the darkness or the fact you were walking through a structure that could collapse in on you at any second, but something about this place made your hair stand on edge. There was just something unsettling about it and you seemed to be the only one to notice, your three friends just chattered on without a care in the world and ignoring all the possible danger.

The four of you emerge into the blinding sunlight, standing on top of a hill your group gets a glimpse at the abandoned theme park in the distance just barely able to make out the roofs of the buildings. "Ah man, what kind of amusement park doesn't have rides?" Rosie whines in disappointment and crosses her arms while she pouts. 

"Maybe it's more of a reenactment place than a park?" Aubrey reasons, ever the leader she walks on towards the park and the rest of you follow. You walk through a long dried creek bed and into the village setting, now that you have a closer look the buildings seem to have been Japanese inspired. "Maybe this place never opened because of cultural appropriation." Bentley clicks his tongue in mock disappointment and a little chuckle at his joke. 

"Shut up Bentley." The three of you say in unison.

The four of you walked around for a while just taking in everything, the buildings while old looking seemed to be in pretty decent shape and some even had little fountains that still had running water on the side of them. In the distance the sun was starting to set and you suggested heading back to the car so you wouldn't get lost on the way back. "Hang on y/n, there is still more to see. Worst case, we crash here tonight." Rosie replied. 

"Yeah worst case we sleep in an abandoned park in the middle of the woods where no one else knows where we are. That's a wonderful idea." You grumble back to her. You all continue deeper into the town until you smell fresh food wafting through the air and in perfect unison your friend's stomachs growl.

"Maybe this place isn't so dead after all, come on, that food smells amazing!" The three of them take off in the direction the smell is coming from and soon find a restaurant-like building filled with fresh hot food. "Hello! Is anyone here?!" Rosie yells out but gets no answer in return, "Must have just stepped out for a second." She says with a shrug, three of them sit down and start to fill plates with some of everything in their reach. "Guys I think we should wait till they come back, you can't just take this food it might be for something." Aubrey waves you off and stuffs a dumpling into her mouth, "We can pay them later, I have cash and Bentley has his family's card. You have got to try this y/n, this is the best food I have ever had in my life!" 

"No thanks, I'm gonna see if I can find the owner before we get in trouble." Walking off you hear your friends rave about the food as they cram it into their faces. The sun is setting below the trees, normally you would find the dusty oranges and pinks to be comforting but in a ghost town it gives you the creeps. You stop halfway on a bridge and look off into the distance, in the dusk the town was certainly pretty and you kind of wished you could have seen this place open. Lost in your own thoughts you don't hear the footsteps approaching you. 

"What are you doing here?" The question jolts you out of your zoning out and you turn around to find a man staring intently at you. His brown eyes almost glowed in the dim light and his short brown hair seemed to be slightly out of place. "You need to get out of here, now!" "Look if this is about the food I'm sorry but you don't need to yell at me, we can pay for it." 

"No that's not the… they're lighting the lanterns already. You need to get your friends and get across the river before it's dark. Go, now!" The strange man lunges at you and you bolt back the way you came from, you turn to see if the stranger is following you only to run flat into someone. You look up to apologize only to see a huge shadow creature, your heart stops when it growls at you and before it can grab your arm you duck around it and run as fast as you can. All around you more shadow creatures start to appear out of thin air as the once dead village comes to life, the darker it gets the more solid the beings become. 

After a final turn you arrive back at the restaurant only to find three massive pigs in place of your friends and before you can even understand what's happening a large frog-like man appears behind the tables and starts to wipe the pigs at the table. Once again you take off, screaming your friend's names as desperation fills you. By the time you reach the creek bed the sun has completely set and the only light comes from the lanterns from behind you. The once dried river is now filled with a fast current and while you were a strong swimmer you knew you couldn't make it across. Your knees buckle and you crash to the ground skinning your knee in the process and the pain only cements the fact that all this is real. Your friends are missing and you are stuck in this place that shouldn't exist. As the adrenaline wears off, tears start to roll down your face as the panic sets in, you go to wipe your face only to find that your hand is see through now. A full blown panic attack ensues as you watch your body start to fade away, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself one last time, all you can think about is how your family would never know what happened to you. 

"You didn't make it across, you were so close." Your eyes snap open to see the man from the bridge and you try to stand up only for your legs to be cemented to their place. You reach out for his pants only for them to phase through him, "What's happening to me!!" you scream at him. The brunette kneels before you and pulls a little red pill out of his pocket. "Open, you need to take this before you disappear completely." You keep your mouth firmly shut not trusting the man before you, with a sigh he slips the pill into his mouth before pushing his lips against your own. His tongue pushes past your lips and forces the pill into your mouth and down your throat, he lingers longer than he needs to, probably just making sure you actually swallow it. By the time he pulls away your arms are no longer see through and you can feel your legs again, taking your hands in his he carefully pulls you to your feet. You open your mouth to question him when he suddenly pushes you against the wall, your face starts to heat up as his body pushes against you. After the initial shock wears off your eyes travel from his chest to search his eyes for any ill intent only to see that he wasn't even looking at you, instead his eyes were cast over his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry for your friends and I'm sorry you're stuck here. But we don't have time for me to explain, he knows there's a human here and he's looking for you. Hold onto me, I'll keep you safe." numb from everything you just nod and slip your small hand into his. 

In a flash the two of you are flying through the now crowded streets dodging every strange creature with grace. You glance up at the man next to you, his brows set in determination and he focuses on the route. Without warning he stops and you slam face first into his back, the two of you are standing behind a couple of bushes next to a bridge where dozens of monsters are crossing. "You need to take a deep breath and hold it until we cross over, it's very important that you don't exhale while we are crossing." 

"But why?" 

"When a human holds their breath on a crossway in our world they are invisible, if they see you they'll eat you. We have to go now, hurry, take your breath and stay close to me."

You take a huge gulp of air and grab his large sleeve and huddle close to him. The two of you make your way across the bridge to the massive, brightly light building ahead of you. Monsters of all shapes and sizes were flooding into the building. You pass one monster whose body was still a shadow but you could see that he was one of the more humanoid ones. His blonde hair was the only defined feature of his as his face was covered by a white and purple mask. Despite you still holding your breath you felt like he could see you, making you grip on your dark haired savior tighter. 

Your lungs and throat start to burn and your eyes water but you were nearly there, peeking up you see that at the entrance stands dozens of women whose heads were at least three times the size of a normal head. Their waving stops as they spot the man you are with and run over to him, they reach out to grab at his arms but he takes a step back shielding you from their accidental touches. "Master, you're back! We are so pleased to have you home, come in, come in!" They continue to crowd around you two stopping your journey and even though you try you can't stop yourself from taking a breath. The moment you do the women start to shriek as you start to materialize in front of their eyes, your savior lifts his hand and casts a spell on the women freezing them in place before taking your hand in his again and quickly leads you away. 

This time the two of you stop in a secluded garden area where he allows you to catch your breath before saying anything. "Those damn women, always clawing at me. You'd think by now they'd learn I'm not interested." From the inside of the building you hear people run around and start calling for the man, he looks up at the door and gives a tired sigh. "They're looking for me now, I need to go or else they'll find you too." Having finally caught your breath you apologize to him, "I'm sorry for causing you trouble like this, I just couldn't hold it anymore."

Turning back to you he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear with a gentle smile on his face, "You did wonderful, I'm just sorry I couldn't have been more help. Now listen carefully, once things have calmed down go out that door and down the stairs to the boiler room. In there you'll find Hank the boiler man, you must get a job from him. He will try to send you away, trick you, but you can not leave until you get a job from him. That is the only way Elijah can't harm you." 

"Elijah? Who is he?" 

"He's the witch who runs the bathhouse, you'll meet him soon enough. I have to go now, be safe until we see each other again." Taking your hand in his for a final time he brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss, he turns to leave only for you to grip his sleeve again. "Wait, you never told me your name."

He smiles softly at you, "It's Connor."

[bluefirewrites]

‘A Flowery Back-And-Forth’- Juke Florist!AU

Juke AU where Julie’s mom had owned the Petal Pushers Floral Company, now run by her Tía Victoria and she helps by delivering orders on her bike. 

Another riff from the Triad Chat Vault. Happy JATP Appreciation Month!

"Alright, I'm on it, Willie!" Julie calls out, slipping the arrangement in her basket, foot primed to pedal-

"Wait!" Willie sidles up to her with a conspiratorial smirk, "Can you do me a teensy weensy favor?"

Her eyes shut, already groaning, "No, no. Willie, no-"

The skater sticks out his bottom lip, pouting, "Please? I'm willing to pay for the 'Julie Molina Special'"

Julie points to the sign hanging in the Petal Pushers shop, "Do you see a 'Julie Molina Special’ or arrangement up there?"

Willie presents her a wad of cash.

She eyes it warily, "You're shelling out so much for this, aren't you?"

"It's Alex," he says, eyes twinkling, "He deserves the best," he elbows her playfully, "Right?"

Shit. Romance isn't dead after all.

And Julie does need the money.

"Okay, fine," she pockets the cash and mounts her bike "One 'Julie Molina' delivery special coming up."

"Yes!" he hugs her from behind, careful not to squash the flowers, "Thank you. He'll appreciate it for sure."

"I'm doing this for you," she rings the bell and starts rolling down the street, "And you better properly introduce me to your boyfriend next time!"

"Here you go, courtesy of your boyfriend,"

"Will do!"

Julie bikes over to the address, not too far from her house. 

“He’s in band practice right now, so take the flowers there,” Willie had told her. 

She could already hear the music flowing from the garage as she pulls up and parks her bike. Carefully scooping up the bouquet, she knocks on the double doors. 

It takes a moment for anyone inside to notice the knocking due to the loud music (which is pretty good from what Julie has heard so far. And she doesn’t really listen to much music anymore). 

The guitars and drums are put to a halt. Then a voice calls out. 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s Petal Pushers Floral Company. I have a delivery for an ‘Alex Mercer’?” 

“Cool. Come on in.” 

Heeding instruction, she pushes the doors open and walks inside. She spots Alex immediately, by the drums. The blonde raises his hand and Julie comes forward with the large bouquet Willie ordered for him.

"Um..." Julie e starts, rubbing her hands together nervously, "There's more."

"Thanks!" Alex blushes, admiring the rainbow of flowers collected.

“And the card,” 

Alex quickly swipes the card, eyeing his bandmates in case either of them would dare to steal it and read it outloud. He reads the note to himself and he blushes even more. 

“Happy One Month, Hot Dog,” he recites an excerpt for everyone, to which they all go ‘aww’. Then Alex nods at her, “And you’re Julie, right? Willie tells me all about you. Thanks for coming by.” 

“Really no problem. Just doing my job. As a delivery girl and his friend.” 

Speaking of friend duties...

Then she looks around the room and shrinks in on herself seeing that she does have an audience, one that she recognizes. 

There’s Reggie from her Home Ec class and the other boy, Luke, she thinks, the one she always spots with a guitar case in his hands.

"Um..." she starts, rubbing her hands together nervously, "There's more."

"Oh," Alex says, surprised, "Really?"

"Yeah..."

"I don't know what it is that makes me love you so...I only know I never want to let you go...'" she sings, snapping to the beat, trying hard not to look at anyone else but Alex.

I'm so gonna kill Willie for this...

She clears her throat. And goes for it. 

"'Cause you started something, can't you see...That ever since we met you've had a hold on me...”" she starts moving around the space, spinning and dancing like an old-timey singing-gram.

Coming back around, she catches eyes with Luke, and she immediately averts her eyes, turning red.

No, Julie... just keep singing. This would all be over soon. So you won't have to keep embarrassing yourself in front of cute boys...

“It happens to be true.... I only want to be with you!" she finishes on own knee, with jazz hands.

She's met with a round of applause as she stands up, feeling awkward.

"Wow!" Reggie claps, "Your boyfriend got you flowers and a pretty girl to sing you a song."

"That was great," Alex beams at her, "You're really good!"

She blushes, waving off the compliments, "Not really a thing we do at the shop, but Willie insisted."

"What a shame," Luke finally pipes up, his eyes never having left her ever since she walked in, "I bet a lot of people will buy flowers... if they're being delivered like that."

Julie swears she's glowing red like Rudolph at this point, with the way he stares. 

Julie walks her bike up to the garage, finding only Luke there playing away on his guitar.

"Thanks..." she mutters shyly, rushing out the door and towards her bike, “Have a good one guys. And you sounded great by the way.” 

“We’re Sunset Curve,” Luke shouts after her. 

“Tell your friends!” Reggie follows up. 

Julie politely waves at them and bikes away, all too keen to continue on with her route and try to put this whole embarrassing moment behind her. 

If only Luke Patterson was planning to do the same. 

Ever since she made the delivery, the guy would try to flag her attention at school. With a ‘Hey Flower Girl’ and striking up conversation, which throws her off balance. 

She tries not to associate with people in the music program as often, not since she left due to... personal reasons. (Flynn is a notable exception)

Julie would be friendly, to Alex and Reggie to an extent as well, (to Alex especially since he is Willie’s boyfriend), but she’s just trying to get by with her busy schedule of school and her job at the flower shop. 

She goes to work after school two weeks later and makes her rounds with the deliveries Tía sends her on. Tía only gives her the remaining orders that the trucks couldn’t take, last minute ones that are within riding distance.

(Julie can’t wait until she’s able to get her license and really make a contribution to her family’s business). 

She’s just about to call it a night when Tía surprises her with one last minute arrangement. A call made while she was out. 

It’s about 6 at this point, getting darker and so she packages the bundle of peonies quickly, puts it in her basket and looks at the address. She rolls her eyes when she reads where it’s going and who it’s for. 

She knocks against the door, bearing the small bouquet of peonies, "Ahem?"

It startles the boy and he fumbles with his instrument. He looks up to find her standing there and grins. Soon, the guitar is off his person and he's meeting her at the door.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi," she smiles, although confused, "Delivery for 'Luke Patterson'?"

The boy glances around the empty space before feigning realization, "Oh! That must be me!"

"Looks like," Julie couldn't help but giggle. She gives him the flowers, their hands making brief contact during the exchange. 

"You like peonies?" Luke sniffs the flowers, playing with the paper wrap.

She pulls back, clearing her throat. She wants to ask that question at the forefront of her mind, but she really shouldn’t assume anything about their customers. But she couldn’t help but wonder who the flowers are for. 

So she just settles for: "Nice arrangement.”

"They're pretty, yeah,"

He tilts his head, "But are they your favorite?"

Julie purses her lips, "Nope. Not really."

"I swear you give me a peonies kinda vibes,"

"That's a thing?"

Setting down the flowers onto the table, Luke nods, "Oh yeah. Don't you try and guess what kind of flowers people would buy when they come in?"

"Sometimes,"

"But still," he pinches a peony from the bunch and offers it to her and Julie's breath hitches.

"For you,"

She crosses her arms, despite the butterflies. Instead of accepting it, she raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not one to take a customer's flowers,"

He shrugs, "Consider it a tip?"

"Why? ‘Cuz you don't have any money?" she jests, making her way down the driveway.

"C'mon, Julie," he calls from the open garage, "Here." he holds out the flower again.

Rolling her eyes, she mounts her bike, "I'm not a peony-kind of girl, remember!"

"I'll figure out what kind of girl you are," he says, almost like a promise.

"Good luck with that!" she shouts back, racing down the driveway and onto the street.

The last thing she sees is him grinning like an idiot in the doorway, tossing aside the peony, and watching her ride off into the evening.

Little does she know that this is only the start of their little flowery back-and-forth...

Tagging: @blush-and-books​​ @lydias--stiles​​  @thedeathdeelers​​ @ruzek-halstead​​, @pink-flame​​, @ourstarscollided​​, @nottheleastbrave​​, @echocharm17618​​ @smolfangirl​​ 

[sakusasbunny]

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬.

this fic is inspired by the amazing artwork of @xzatanna !! this is also in collaboration w @ali-seu and @azo-musxas who made fics for kita and oikawa so go check it out <3

collab m.list

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f!reader

cw: dub/non-con, degradation, dacryphilia, face-fucking, 

wc: ~3.6 k

a/n: maybe a p. 2 of the aftermath of the race against seijoh and inarizaki >:))

m.list

The crowd started to surround Kuroo’s car as he drifted to a stop, leaving tire marks on the concrete floor of the parking garage. Roaring chants of his name echoed through the streets as the mob cheered Kuroo for yet another win. His spiked black hair peeked out as he opened the car door and made his way out. You wanted nothing more than to slap the shit-eating grin on his face as the adoring crowd rushed around him. The jackass had ruined the hours of work you'd poured into your car, and it hadn't even been five fucking minutes.

Scoffing, you pushed yourself off of the hood of your car, squeezing past the swarm of sweaty bodies, “Hey. What the fuck, Kuroo.”

He smirked as soon as he saw your approaching figure. Closing his car door, he walked to the front and clasped the headlights, swinging his hips onto the hood of the car. Metal rings clicked against the polished surface as he leaned back on his hands, cocking his head towards your pissed expression.

 “What’s the matter, darlin’?” He shamelessly eyed your body as you walked up, his tongue playing with his silver lip piercing, “You’re not gonna congratulate me? I won ‘cause of your car, you know.”

“Congratulate you? For what, wrecking my fucking car?” 

You stood directly in front of him now, so close that you felt his breath fan your face as he let out a low chuckle.

“That’s just the price of winning, I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Curling a finger around your belt loop, he yanked you forward, grinning as you stumbled in between his open legs

“Besides…” The hand previously on your belt loop trailed up to your waist. “That’s more money coming in your pocket, right?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. 

Blood rushed to your cheeks and your face flushed, suddenly hyper aware of the murmuring crowd watching the scene unfold.

You watched Kuroo as he reached out for one of the members of the Nekoma Crew to hand him a portion of his winnings. Turning his head back towards you, he made a show of counting the gleaming cash

“‘S all in here, sweetheart.” he said, holding the wad of cash in between his fingers.

You made a move to grab it but he pulled his hand away. Kuroo grinned at the annoyance crinkling your features. His hand slid around your waist reaching for your back pocket, placing the money inside but not before giving your ass a slight squeeze. You jumped and instinctively hit him on the chest. As mad and as embarrassed as you were, you couldn’t help but notice how hard his chest felt underneath your palm. Chastising yourself at the thought, you tried to pull yourself away from him to make your leave. However, his hand kept you in place against his chest, gripping even harder.

“Kuroo. Let me go.” An amused look graced his annoyingly handsome face, the neon lights only highlighting his features.

“Don’t get all embarrassed now, darling, come on,” His nails dug into your wrists, the same one you used to hit him with, “You don’t like people watching?” He looked to the crowd, rousing a laugh.

“I got what I came for, Drift King.” You had to look up at him to even meet his eyes but you held your ground. “Don’t bother dropping off the car at my shop. You can find someone else to fix it.”

With that, he let your hand go with an uncharacteristic look of seriousness on his face as he stared you down. You cowered from his intense glare as you let out a stuttering breath, backing away to head for the comfort of your car.

Opening your car door, you ducked your head and sat down on the plush leather seats. An exasperated sigh left your lips as you leaned your head on the wheel. The slick growing in between your legs dripped down, soaking your panties. You squeezed your thighs together to get even a little bit of relief, the friction already making you whimper.

As much as you felt contempt for the arrogant racer, you couldn’t ignore the way your pussy clenched as he took his domineering tone with you. All you could think about was the look he had on his face as you told him off. The usual smug look on his face was replaced with hard, piercing eyes and a scowl. Your breath grew heavy as you recalled his intimidating gaze on you, following your figure even as you took your leave. Fuck. You hadn’t noticed the way your hips started to buck against the seat and the soft moans that had slipped out of your mouth.You had almost forgotten where you were. 

Thank God for tinted car windows. 

Huffing in annoyance, you started your car and pulled out of the parking garage. The neon lights of the city passed you by in a blur as you sped through the streets of Tokyo, trying to make it back to your shop as quickly as possible. The revving of your car engine didn’t make your situation any better as you felt the vibrations on your cunt. The soft purring sensation tickled your exposed legs and drew goosebumps onto your thigh. 

Your foot pressed harder on the gas as you raced to get home cutting off multiple cars and hearing horns honk in the distance. 

As you approached the front of your shop, you noticed a light glowing beneath the garage door. Had you left it open? You were sure you had locked up just before you left to watch the race. You slowly made your way towards the front door and unlocked it. A pit formed in your stomach afraid of what might greet you on the other side. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you prepared to open the door as you positioned your keys in between your fingers to make a make-shift weapon.

Pushing the door slightly open, you poked your head through. You didn’t notice anything else strange in the hallway leading to your garage. Taking a breath of relief, you relaxed your tense shoulders. It was just an oversight on your part.

 You made your way past the dark hallway and entered your garage. Immediately, you took notice of the busted up Mustang Fastback, your Mustang Fastback. It’s red paint was tattered where the car was dented. You slammed your keys on the table by the door and closed your eyes in frustration.

“K-”

A hand grabbed you by the back of the neck and slammed you on the wall. You groaned as your head throbbed from the impact. 

“You asshole. What the fuck is wrong with you?” You struggled to free yourself from him but his hard chest pinned you to the wall. You couldn't even turn your head to look behind you as his hand gripped the back of your neck.

“What’s wrong with me? Hmm? My favorite mechanic just dumped me in front of everyone without fixing her car. What, you don’t want it back?

He pressed against you ever harder now, putting all of his weight on you. Kuroo’s hot breath fanned on your neck as he leaned his forehead against your temple.

“K-keep it.” You struggled speaking as your cheek scraped the wall.

“Nah, darlin’,” He whispered, you felt the cold metal of his lip ring graze your ear, “I’d rather keep you.”

“Oh, like you fucking own me?” You spat, thrashing against his hold in an attempt to free yourself.

“Of course, I do, sweetheart.” You felt the rumble reverberate in his chest as he laughed.

“You feel that, hm?” He dug his fingers in your hips as he grinded against your back. You could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans, “Fuck, darlin’, this is all because of that lil’ stunt you pulled,” He pressed even harder.

“P-please, Kuroo, don’t-” Tears started to prick your eyes and you clawed at the wall in a futile attempt to get away from him.

“C’mon, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet,” He chuckled. 

Kuroo loosened his grip on you as he flipped you over, once again shoving you into the wall. He cupped your cheek and gestured you to look at him, “Get on your knees, darlin’”

Staring at him, eyes wide, you were speechless at his request.

Kuroo slammed a fist on the wall right next to your head, making you jump. Clenching your eyes shut, the tears rolled down your face as you whimpered.

“Are you that fucking stupid that you can’t follow a god damn order?” The hand that cupped your cheek brushed the stray tears away from your face. It was almost soothing, the way his thumb rubbed soft circles on your cheek. You leaned into his touch. 

“I’m not asking. Get on your knees.” You made a move to kneel down on the floor as he backed away and gave you space. You could’ve made a run for it, you should have made a run for it, but his intimidating gaze kept you cemented. Looking up at him, you awaited his next command. 

He smirked, looking down at your tear-stained face, “You know what to do, darlin’” 

Hesitating, you made quick work of his belt. As you pulled his pants down, along with his underwear, he cock sprang out, freed from its confines.

You stared at it dumbly.

“Well? The fuck are you waiting for? Suck.” He said as he palmed the back of your head and encouraged you to put your mouth on him.

Kuroo hissed as you placed a hand at the base of his cock and gave it a slight squeeze. Moving yourself towards his cock, you started giving his head tiny kitten licks before placing the tip on your mouth and sucking.

Bobbing your head up and down, you started at a slow pace taking him in deeper in your mouth each time. Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you took care off with your hands, pumping his base. However, this was not enough for him as he used his fingers to grip at your hair, keeping you steady.

He bucked his hips particularly hard and you choked, gagging around him. Kuroo only moaned in pleasure as your throat constricted even tighter around his shaft. Nails clawed at his thigh, and you tapped him twice signaling you were at your limit. As he let you go, you took desperate breaths of fresh air, and leaned forward with both your hands on the floor. 

“You fucking asshole. I hate you…” You whispered meekly.

You thought you had said quietly enough that he couldn’t hear you but his large hand took hold of your hair and yanked you back, forcing you to make eye contact. 

“You hate me?” Whimpering at his grip on your hair, you could only shake your head ‘no’, “Well don’t change your mind now, sweetheart.”

Letting your hair go, he bent down, and scooped you up from the floor. He hooked your legs around his hips, and placed his hands, slightly slipping into your shorts, on your ass. Instinctively, your arms tightened around him, burying your head in his neck.

His chest let out another deep rumble, chuckling at your reaction. Kuroo started walking, taking you with him. Making it to his destination, he placed you down on a cool, uneven, metal surface and it only took you a second to guess that it was your car. You removed your hand from his neck and placed them on the jagged exterior of the car unsure of what to do. Clenching your fists, you cowered at his icy stare. 

You felt his cat-like eyes move across your body, surveying the sight in front of him.

“If you hate me so much then what the hell is this?” You made an attempt to clamp your legs as he ran a finger across your clothed slit, visibly wet with your arousal. However, his legs, in between your own, kept you from closing them.

It was only then you realized how uncomfortably wet you’d gotten. His finger, repeating the same movements over and over, only spurred you on even more. Biting your cheeks to hold in your moans, your legs trembled against his own. 

Kuroo stopped his movements on your clit and a whimper slipped out at the loss of friction, “If you want me to continue…” He brought his hands to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his smoldering stare. His usual hazel eyes appeared dark and predatory as he studied you with unwavering attention, “Give me a kiss.”

“I-” 

“Come on, darlin’, give me a kiss.” 

Letting out a breath, you leaned into his face. Hesitation was apparent in your movements as you gave him a chaste peck on the lips.

“You can do better than that. Try again.” A hand found itself on your thigh and he squeezed at the soft flesh prompting a sharp inhale.

You leaned in once again, eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his own. Interlocking in an exchange of saliva as you parted your lips, inviting his prodding tongue. Clutching on to his shirt, you effectively deepened the kiss as you pushed him closer. Soft exhales could be heard in quick attempts to catch your breath at the intensity of his kiss. 

He pulled away, only a trail of saliva connected your swollen lips.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” A wave of embarrassment washed over you at his condescending tone, “And now you get a reward.”

His large hands pushed you down until you were laying on the hood of the car. Staring at the ceiling, you breathed heavily, knowing what was to come. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying this as much as you were, but you couldn’t keep your walls from clenching around nothing at the feeling of his hot breath on the junction of your thighs. 

“Mmm… Fuck.” You heard him curse through clenched teeth as he buried his nose in your clothed pussy. His eyes stared at your writhing body from his position on the floor. Your back arched slowly as a slew of moans filtered from your soft lips.

Leisurely, Kuroo peeled the shorts off from your legs, savoring every moment. The black lingerie adoring your pussy was soaked through completely, some even dripping down on your thigh. 

He trailed kisses up your leg, leaving hickeys in his wake. The sensation of his wet lips leading to your wanton pussy only made you buck your hips in search of more friction. 

“Patience, darlin’” Kuroo reminded you as he gripped the legs hooked over his shoulder, and kept you from moving.

His tantalizing fingers ran across the hem of your underwear, pushing the thin material aside. The cool air of the garage hit your exposed cunt and he watched in awe as it trembled before him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” He said, astonished at your glistening pussy.

A moan tore through your throat as Kuroo delved into your pussy without warning. Hands found themselves roaming through his spiky hair and you pushed him closer against you reveling in his long awaited touches.

His tongue lapped up your folds, collecting the slick that had accumulated and circling it around your clit. Jolts of pleasure shocked your body as Kuroo continued playing with the small bundle of nerves. One of his hands found its way at your entrance, prodding at the quivering hole.

“H-hahhh… Please Kuroo, I can’t-” You bucked your hips again, encouraging his finger to move.

You didn’t receive a response but his pointer finger plunged in your pussy, and curled as he tried to locate your g-spot. The meticulous movements of his finger made it easy for him to find the spongy spot inside you, taking the loud cry that escaped your lips as a signal that he had found it.

As Kuroo loosened the walls of your pussy with his finger, his mouth continued its work, lips closing around your clit and sucking hard.

He added another finger and you couldn’t help the way your hips thrashed at the sensation of being full, “Fuck, I-I’m so close,” You moaned for him as he repeated his movements. The knot in your stomach tightened, and tightened, until finally it snapped. White, hot pleasure blinded you and you screwed your eyes shut. The strained moan you let out echoed in your massive garage, hips continuing to buck into Kuroo’s mouth.

He slowed his movements, working you through your orgasm. The wails of his name slipping out your mouth kept ringing in his ears, the strain in his jeans only growing tighter. 

As you calmed down from your high, your legs trembled against his shoulders. You watched him get up from the floor, your cum that coated his mouth and chin reflected the harsh light of the garage. 

Kuroo smirked at the state your body was currently in, taking in the way your legs continued to quiver and shake. He grabbed your arm and pulled your limp body up, no longer having the strength to struggle against him. You leaned your head on his chest, tired due to the dizzying aftermath of your orgasm. The only thing you could pay attention to was the rhythmic rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest as he breathed. It was enough to lull you into a deep sleep, you even felt your eyes growing heavy.

However, the sharp pain you felt as Kuroo began piercing the head of his thick cock in your hole jolted you awake. 

You clawed at his chest, wincing at the pain, “W-wait Kuroo, I can’t. I just ca-”

He slams you against the hood of your car, you were sure it was hard enough to cause another dent.

“What, you get to cum but I don’t, huh?” He slammed his hips against yours giving you no time to adjust before he pulled out and repeated the movement. You could only scream in pain. Even after he stretched you with his fingers and after all the slick that you had accumulated throughout the night, you still couldn’t take all of him.

 “You’re gonna take my cock, whether you like it or not, slut” He whispered in your ear.

Slowly, he rocked hips into yours going deeper with each thrust. Your throat grew hoarse from crying out at the pain, tears spilling from your eyes. Drool trickled from the corner of your lips as your tongue lolled out of your mouth.

Propelling his body forward, he leaned all of his weight against you as he bottomed out. You groaned in ecstasy, or was it discomfort you had felt?

No longer did you have control of your body as the pain faded into pleasure.

Kuroo grunted as your velvety walls sucked him in. He’d been waiting to fuck you for so long, often having been the subject of his imagination as he rutted his cock into his fist. But this was real, even better than he could have imagined. The pulsing walls clenching around him were so tight that it was almost hard to move. 

A cacophony of obscene sounds reverberated throughout  the room as you had both been lost in your own pleasure. The angle he was pistoning his cock continued to ram against the most pleasurable spots inside of you, making you flutter around him. You were approaching your high again. The both of you were. 

“H-hahh~ Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘M so close!” You squeezed your eyes shut, and arched your back.

“Yeah, darlin’?” He said through his own heavy pants. Only slowing down a little bit, he shoved his thumb in your mouth. Too eagerly, you sucked on it, twirling your tongue around his thumb. When Kuroo decided that it was wet enough, he slipped it out your mouth and began rubbing your clit.

“God~” Your pussy clenched around him and you dug your nails in his forearm. Pleasure shot through you as you creamed on his cock, gripping your walls tighter around him.

Kuroo chased his own orgasm he continued to slam into you, movements becoming erratic. He was unrelenting as he brutally fucked your abused cunt. 

He let out a deep growl that rumbled in his chest, “‘M gonna cum so fucking deep inside ya, darlin’,” Gripping your waist, he bucked his hips one last time, kissing your cervix, as he spilled his heavy load inside you. 

Both of your breaths could be heard as you panted heavily. He pulled out of your pussy and you could feel the viscous liquid dribble out of your hole and onto the car. 

Your vision blurred as you were teetering on the verge of unconsciousness. The last thing you remember before everything went dark was Kuroo leaning over you waving a thick wad of cash in your face, all hundred dollar bills from what you could make out. He slipped it in the thin band of your lingerie.

“This should make up for all of the damages to your car,” He whispered in your ear, “I’ll need it again for the race against Seijoh and Inarizaki in a couple days, so make sure you have it fixed.”

“Oh and remember,” You could only stare at him with glassy eyes, as he said his parting words, “I own you, whore.”

[jazztato]

The Arcana Boyfriend Scenarios: How you meet

In each on your related to one of the arcana boys in one of these your related to Julian and portia since their siblings lol, in another your related to asra, then your related to Lucio, then your related to muriel lol

Asra

You were awake at 6 am, you tried your hardest not to wake your brother which wasn't that hard, he was always a heavy sleeper. You pushed yourself out of bed and hopped into the shower so you could get ready for work, for some reason your brother keeps telling you to quit your job since you have a rich brother so technically you could have whatever you needed, but you didn't want to always depend on him so you got a job as a barista at the local coffee shop downtown. It is a bit away from your home but it's a job non the less. When you stepped out of the house you were welcomed by two wet noses nuzzling into the back of your hands, you looked down to see who it was. When your eyes met 4 beady little red eyes you realized it was your brothers dogs Mercedes and Melchior. You didn't know why they were outside, they usually stayed inside but then you remembered that they like greeting you off before you head off for work. You patted the dogs heads before hopping into your car and driving off.

When you arrived you took out the keys for the shop out of your pocket and started unlocking the shop doors. As you entered you turned the lights on, set the tables with the essentials, after a while of setting up you made a fresh batch of coffee and waited for your first customer to enter the little shop. After a while of waiting and texting your brother saying that you left for work before he forgets that you have a job and tries sending a search party to find you, the little bell above the entrance dinged indicating a customer had entered, you looked up from your phone to see a boy with golden brown skin, fluffy white hair and deep violet eyes. You never saw him before so you assumed he was new, he looked around the shop before you spoke up receiving the attention of the young man.

"Hello there! What can I help you with?" You stood up straight behind the counter giving him a small smile.

The boy looked up and smiled before walking in front of the counter looking at the menu above. "Do you by any chance have Lapsang souchong?" The boy looked at me with curious eyes.

"We sure do! Is that what you would like?" You walked over to where the tea was held.

"That would be lovely, thank you." He started looking around realizing no one else is here, he was confused. "No one else is here? And I don't see any other workers." He continued looking around the small little shop.

You finished making his tea, sighing. "I'm the only worker and it's still a bit early, but usually later in the day more customers will pile in, with me being the only worker here it's a bit harder to handle with the crowds." You let out a low giggle before sighing again, setting his drink on the counter in front of you as you rung him up.

"Really.." He took his wallet out handing you the cash.

"Yeah.." You took the cash from his hand before putting it in the cash register. "Maybe I should take my brother's offer and close up.. He's rich so it wouldn't matter.."

The boy looked at me with widened eyes. "You shouldn't just close up! What you need is to hire more workers." He took a sip of his tea before sitting at one of the tables.

You looked at the boy before smiling, giving what he said a thought, you walked out from behind the table and back over to the boy. "What do you know about making coffee and tea? And other things about coffee shops?" You took a seat in front of him.

He looked up from his phone with a shocked expression. "I know a lot about making tea and coffee and I can bake. W-why do you ask?" He looked at you tilting his head to the side.

You cleared your throat before speaking again. "Well.. You said I needed to hire some workers.. Well how about I hire you?" You gave him a sweet smile waiting for his response.

He nearly choked on his tea at what you said. "You serious? I mean I would love to! But we hardly know each other. For example I don't even know your name." He let out a low chuckle as he looked into your (E/C) eyes.

You gave him a slight blush scratching the back of your neck. "F-Fair point.. Well how about we start off with introductions then! I'm (Y/N) Morgasson!"

He gave you a sweet smile. "It's nice to meet you (Y/N), I'm Asra Alnazar." He held out his hand for you to take. You took a hold of his hand and shook it firmly. "When would you like for me to start?"

You looked at him confused. "Huh?"

He chuckled before rephrasing what he said. "When would you like for me to start work?"

You blushed not realizing that's what he meant. "O-oh! You're really going to accept my offer to work here! That's amazing, thank you! Um you can start first thing tomorrow, I don't open the shop till 6 am and I don't close till 9 pm except on weekends where I close at 8 pm but feel free to show up at any time you like!" You stood up from the seat in front of him as the bell from the door dinged again seeing that a customer had just walked in, you walked back to the front counter. As you took the customer's order you saw your new friend Asra was no longer at the table and that he had left you side serving the customer their order before walking back to the table where you were just at with Asra, when you picked up the empty tea cup you noticed on the napkin that was under it was writing. You picked it up before reading what it wrote;

Dear (Y/N), It was nice meeting with you. I'm looking forward to working with you and I hope you feel the same as me. I may be new to town but you were really nice and I'm glad we met! Maybe we can chat more especially when we are not both working so Here's my number text me maybe? I know it's a bit cheesy but I would love to get to know you more as our friendship progresses, see you tomorrow! ~ Sincerely Asra

Next to the note he wrote was a number, you blushed before putting the napkin into the pocket of your apron heading back to the front counter, with a light blush covering your cheeks, all you could think about was how excited you were to get home and text your new friend.

Julian

You were working your shift at the hospital since one of the patients that you work with refused to listen unless you were there, you groaned at how every time when you're trying to enjoy your free time you get called in. You were walking towards the patient's room when you ended up bumping into a doctor that was walking the opposite way of you, you groaned before looking at the doctor giving him a slight glare till you realized you've never seen this doctor before so you were extremely confused, did the hospital hire a new doctor? Or is he a visiting doctor? You were pulled out of your thoughts when the doctor spoke out. "I-i'm so sorry! I-i wasn't watching where I was going." You looked up at the doctor now realizing that he was about 6'4, he was a gangly man with curly auburn hair. He has grey eyes which look half-lidded like he hasn't gotten much sleep, along with dark, purplish shadows around them. His right eye looks to be blind as the other is grey. I then realized I was staring. I quickly shook my head before sighing, giving the man a response in return.

"No it's alright.. It wasn't your fault it's mine, I wasn't watching where I was going. And I don't believe I've seen you around before? Are you new?" You looked at the man staring into his eyes which apparently made the man blush a bright red.

"A-ah! Yes! I am new, I transferred here from out of state, I heard this place was looking for more doctors so I decided to transfer here plus my sister lives in town along with my grandmother." He then turned a brighter red realizing he's rambling. "S-sorry.. You probably don't want to hear about my life.. Especially when we just met." He scratched the back of his neck, trying not to make eye contact.

You let out a low giggle enjoying this man's cheekiness. "It's alright, your different then most doctors here, most of the doctors here only care about themselves or about the patients they work with." You looked over to the side looking over at the other doctors who were minding their own business.

The man let out a hearty chuckle. "Is that a good thing? Because you also seem different from the doctors I've seen."

You gave him a sincere smile before sighing. "That's because I'm a nurse, nurses here don't get the recognition they deserve.." You were about to continue your conversation when a child-like scream was heard from down the hall, your eyes grew wide as you took off running down the hall, the Doctor you were speaking with must've heard and decided to follow. When you opened the door to the patient's room, you saw a crying child sitting on the medical bed as doctors and nurses tried calming them down. You sighed before walking over to the crying child, you looked at the child before frowning, speaking to him in a calm manner. "Hey kiddo.. You're doing alright.. I heard you scream, I was worried something happened.." The kid looked over at you with teary eyes before reaching up for you. You gave him a sad smile before gently picking him up. "Hey.. What's wrong.."

The kid sniffled before speaking. "T-they were being mean.. W-when I refused to take my medicine they yelled at me and grabbed my wrist and i-it hurt.." The kid started crying again. As the kid was crying the doctor from earlier walked in seeing the child in your arms.

You glared at the other doctors and nurses that were there. "I'm sorry for their rude behavior.. That was completely unprofessional of them, wasn't it?.." You rubbed circles into the kids back before he could soon calm down. The kid gave you a little nod agreeing with you. "But they weren't wrong.. You have to take your medicine.. Or you won't get better.. If you won't take it for them then maybe take it for me.."

The kid wiped his tears before giving you a nod. "O-ok.."

You gently set the kid down on the medical bed as you retrieved his medication from the doctors, pouring in the right amount onto the spoon in your hand. "Now say ah!"

The kid opened his mouth. "Aaaahh!"

You stuck the spoon in his mouth allowing him to take the medication which caused him to shiver a bit indicating that he didn't like it but he quickly swallowed just in time for you to hand him a glass of water which he took and chugged trying his hardest to get the taste out of his mouth. You giggled at the child. "Good job! Your getting better at taking your medicine, but now you need to rest, I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you, alright?" You patted the kid on the head as you wrapped the blanket over the child as he started to drift off to sleep but before he did he gave you a nod as a response since he was a bit too tired to speak. You smiled heading back to the entrance of the room you noticed the doctor from before staring at you in awe. You blushed a bit noticing that he's been there the whole time, You quickly cleared your throat before speaking. "D-doctor.. S-should you be standing there gawking at my performance with a child?"

The doctor quickly shook his head, his face now a bright red before he looked away. "S-sorry! I-it's just that what you did was spectacular! You took care of the situation so calmly.."

You giggled nodding. "Well of course! That child is one of my close patients, he usually only listens to me.. But what the other doctors and nurses did was extremely uncalled for." You swiftly glared at the doctors who quickly rushed out causing you to roll your eyes.

"I agree.. When I heard the child scream it worried me that something had happened.." He looked down to the floor before exiting when you followed close behind.

"Agreed.." You gave the doctor a swift smile before checking the time. "Damn.. I didn't see how late it was.. I gotta get home but I'll be back to check up on the patient on how he's doing later on. Oh by the way I don't believe I got your name." You looked up at him with curious eyes.

"O-oh! Yes." He cleared his throat before giving you a swift bow which made you giggle. "The names Julian, but here at the hospital people just call me Dr. Devorak." He scratched his cheek a bit before looking you in the eyes. "What about you? What's your name?"

You gave him a small smile. "(Y/N), the name's (Y/N)."

He blushed a bit brighter which caused you to giggle even more. "T-that's a wonderful name. Hey.. Ik we just met but here.." He grabbed a pen from his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper off of the desk that was nearby, you watched him scribble something down before handing it to you. "I-it's my number.. M-maybe we can text or even call when we're not at work.."

You took the paper from his hand. "I'd like that thank you." You started heading off towards the exit before looking back, you gave him a sweet smile as you left the hospital. You looked at the paper in your hands blushing, You were looking forward to getting to know the doctor more and more.

Lucio

You were working the night shift at the restaurant tonight, you were wading tables and cleaning as well, as you were cleaning up a table your boss instructed for you to take the orders from the people in the V.I.P area, you were about to protest but he had already walked away leaving you there to take care of the people that sat in the V.I.P seating. You picked up a menu and headed towards the V.I.P seats. When you stepped foot onto the much nicer carpet, you noticed a lot of rich and famous people were sitting chatting amongst themselves waiting on a waiter or waitress to take their order which was you. You walked up to the first table gripping the menu when you realized it was your ex (Random ex name), and his new girlfriend who used to be your friend till she stabbed you in the back by sleeping with your now ex boyfriend. You took a deep breath before speaking out. "Hello there! Welcome to the king restaurant what can I get you all started off with." You kept your posture straight as you stared at your ex and his new girlfriend. He looked up and smirked a bit which caused you to frown. "We'll both have a Winston cocktail."(Random expensive drink I looked up lmao)

You gave them both a firm nod. "Are you two ready to order or would you like more?"

They looked at one another before smiling. "We're ready."

You pulled out a notepad and pen. "Very well, what shall it be then."

"We'll both be having the Matsutake Mushrooms." Your ex spoke out before sitting up 'accidentally' spilling over the water that was on the table causing it to spill all over your work clothes. He let out a laugh before you picked up the now empty glass, sighing as you walked away going to tell the chefs the order along with heading off the restroom to dry your clothing off before heading back out to the other customers that were waiting.

When you returned to the V.I.P area you walked past your ex heading to another seat where another patron was waiting. You then stood in front of the man that didn't seem so happy that he was forced to wait, as you got a closer look at the man before you, you saw he was a fair-skinned man with blond hair and silver eyes, but what caught your eye the most was his golden prosthetic arm, you were confused on how he got it. You quickly shook your head before you could get caught staring, you cleared your throat before speaking out. "Hello! Welcome to the king restaurant, what can I get you started off with."

The man looked at you before giving you a smirk. "Well if you have to ask, I could get started with you~"

Your cheeks soon turned a bright red as you cleared your throat speaking, however you sounded a bit shaky. "S-sir.. I meant food wise.."

He gave you a smile. "Oh ik~" He gave you a wink before ordering one of the less expensive options.

You were still a blushing mess when you left to give the man's order to the chefs. After a while you walked back with a tray of your ex's and his girlfriend's food along with the other man's food. You set the food down in front of them but as you were walking to the other man's table you gasped feeling someone slap your ass, you turned a bright red and gave your ex a glare before walking to the other man's table setting his food in front of him, when you looked at him he seems to be glaring in the direction you came from, you followed his gaze and saw that he was glaring at your ex which confused you till you saw the look on his face again. Was this man jealous? Was he mad at what he did? "P-please enjoy your meal sir." You were about to walk away till you felt a hand grab your wrist pulling you back causing you to land in the man's lap causing your face to turn an even brighter red.

He let out a low chuckle. "What's with this sir business, please call me Lucio, now how about you take a break and join me~"

You gulped as you stared into the man's silver eyes. "Si- I mean Lucio.. I shouldn't.. If my boss saw me taking a break and dining with one of the customers.. He'll fire me.." You looked away, averting your eyes from the man's.

He frowned before smiling again. "I'm rich and your boss knows me well enough to know that when I want something done, I get it, no questions asked~ Now what I want is for you to join me."

You gave it a thought before nodding. You stood up off his lap so you could sit in the chair that was in front of him. "Good." He took a bit of his meal before looking behind you to see that your ex was glaring and looked furious.

You played with the end of your outfit before speaking. "W-why did you want me to join you.."

He looked up to meet your gaze. "You've been working hard and looked like you needed a break, especially after getting harassed and soaked by water."

Your cheeks turned a bright red. "Y-you saw that?.." You looked down at the floor embarrassed.

He chuckled reaching over the table putting a finger under your chin causing you to look up into his eyes. "I did and I saw him slap your ass as well, and how uncomfortable it made you. I wasn't amused one bit. Why do you tolerate that man? Why not show him who's boss?"

You let out a sigh. "Because if I yell at a customer.. I'll get fired.. Then I'll have to explain to my brother and sister and my grandmother how I lost my job.. Plus I think I know why he's doing it.. He just so happens to be my ex.."

His eyes grew wide before softening. "That explains a lot. Well if your not going to stand up to him then I will." He stood up from his seat and trudged over to your ex. You were about to protest but it was too late, he was already facing your ex arguing with him till your boss ran over to see what's going on. When your eyes met your boss's, your heart almost stopped, scared of what will happen next. But what happened next shocked you even more, your ex along with his girlfriend were getting kicked out of the restaurant. Your mouth nearly dropped to the floor but you prevented it. When you looked back you saw Lucio was heading back towards you with a smirk on his face. "Told ya, whatever I saw goes. I got your boss to ban that loser and his girlfriend from this restaurant."

"W-wow.. I don't know what to say.. B-but thank you!" You gave him a sweet smile which caused him to blush a little.

"It was nothing! Now you can make it up to me later, but for now here." He grabbed a hold of your arm, taking the pen from your pocket scribbling something down. You were confused till you got a better look at what he wrote, it was a number. You blushed even brighter. He gave you a wink. "Give me a text sometime~ I'll see you around~" He then paid for his meal and headed off. You couldn't help but stare as he left. Once your shift ended you couldn't help but think about the blonde man, you looked at your arm where he wrote his number, you let a small smile form on your lips, looking forward to getting to know that handsome Blondie.

Muriel

You were off at the animal sanctuary feeding a few of the baby animals, your brother decided to take a break from his shop and help volunteer. He even convinced a friend of his to volunteer which wasn't hard because his friend seems to hate crowds and likes it when there's little to no people. You stood up dusting yourself, going to look for your brother and his friend but as you were looking you ended up bumping into a tall burly man causing you to fall on your butt. You looked up to see who you bumped into, realizing it was your brother's friend. He turned around frowning before picking you up and setting you down on your feet gently. ".......Sorry." You let out a small laugh which confused him, to be honest you thought it was cute how shy he is. You looked up at him, he was about 6'10 a lot taller than you and your brother, he has black hair that looks really uneven that falls covering his olive green eyes, he was wearing a plain black hoodie which he usually uses to hide his face with.

You gave him a smile. "You don't have to be sorry! It was my fault.. I was looking for Asra and wasn't paying attention which caused me to bump into you, so I should be the one who should be sorry.. Speaking of which, have you seen my brother?"

The man just shook his head no. ".......Haven't seen him since we arrived..."

You groaned, shaking your head a bit agitated. "Just like my brother to disappear without a word. Well seeing how he's nowhere to be seen, would you like to help me feed the chickens?" You looked up at him, giving him a bright smile.

He seemed hesitant at first before he gave you a nod. ".......Ok..."

You grabbed a hold of his hand which caused the man to blush but he allowed it letting you lead him to the chicken coop that was nearby. You grabbed the chicken feed from one of the shelves as he opened the coop allowing the chickens to roam free. When you looked up you giggled seeing that a few of the chickens were surrounding the man, he was obviously confused but didn't mind nonetheless he knelt down and gently picked up one of the chickens as you walked over admiring how gentle he is with the small creatures. "They seem to like you. Which is odd, they usually try to peck at strangers. The last time my brother tried picking up a chicken he was attacked by the chicken, that poor chicken."

He let out a snort with what you thought was a smile. ".......Indeed... Poor chicken..."

You giggled as he set the chicken down as you poured a bit of food out of the bag and onto the ground allowing the chickens to eat. You stood up before taking a step back.

The man started heading for the exit as you followed. "Thanks again for helping me out with the chickens."

He just nodded as he looked around seeing where Asra disappeared to. ".......Still no sign of Asra..."

You sighed. "I know.. But he'll turn up eventually.. But for now your stuck with me!" You gave him another bright smile. He looked down at you frowning. "Oh come one! It'll be like you're hanging with my brother but more feminine, we are twins after all so what's the difference besides me being female."

He then shrugged. ".......Fine.."

You let out a low squeal before hugging him. "Goody! Now let's go there's other animals to feed!" You grabbed a hold of his hand causing him to blush even more as you dragged him off to the other animals, but the animals that he seemed to click with more were the wolves. You allowed him to feed and pet them, you enjoyed seeing him happy which was barely ever. When it was getting late your brother finally appeared from wherever he was. You gave him a glare before crossing your arms. "Where on earth have you been?!"

Your brother scratched the back of his neck chuckling. "I ended up falling asleep in the snake pen... Again.."

Your face palmed at your brother's stupidity. "Seriously? Again?" You sighed before letting a small laugh escape your lips. "You came to volunteer but instead you ended up sleeping the whole day leaving your friend and I to do all the work."

He looked over at his friend who just nodded. "Sorry sis. I'll make it up to you I promise."

You glared at him. "You better. But now that the day is over, You and I should be heading home before mom and dad get home." (You two were orphans till your parents returned so yay no longer orphans )You turned around to speak to your brother's friend but when you did he was already gone, you were confused till you turned back to your brother. "Where'd your friend go?"

He looked around before shrugging. "He probably went home already."

You nodded, You were about to leave but as you walked off you saw a note was pinned to the door of the barn where the chickens were at. You walked over to it picking it up. You were confused on what it was till you read it over realizing it was a note which read; Hello (Y/N).. Your brother told me your name, that's how I know it.. But today was.. Fun.. Asra probably just vanished so you and I could get to know each other more.. He's been trying to get me to meet you for some time now.. But now that I have I didn't hate it like I thought I would.. Maybe we can call or text I don't know if you want.. Here's my number though.. Oh and my name is Muriel.. just in case you didn't know.. - Sincerely Muriel

Your cheeks turned a light pink as you reread the note before glaring over to where your brother was, who just waved clueless of the note. You quickly pocketed the note before heading back over to your brother punching him in the arm which just made him even more confused.

"What was that for!?"

You giggled before running off sticking your tongue out as he chased after you. As you ran from your brother all you could think about was how nice and friendly Muriel was and couldn't wait to get to know him more. But you couldn't tell your brother or it'll be endless teasing for the rest of your life. But at the end of the day you ended up with a new friend.