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blipblooopp · 3 years

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Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

#ateez smut #ateez angst #choi san #san #san x reader #kim hoongjoong #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #choi jongho #song mingi #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #yunho #yeosang #hoongjoong #seonghwa

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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three’s company | kai & taemin (m)

title: three’s company pairing: taemin x reader x kai genre: smut, fwb request: “hello!! can I req a kai and taemin with female reader smut fic?” word count: 4.4k warnings: MMF threesome, oral (female and male receiving), deep throating, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t try at home 🚫), cumshots, some spanking, taemin has dom tendencies, the aftercare is a bit lacking i think sjdfklfsk a/n: i have not written a proper threesome fic in so long, this didn’t come as easy to me as i thought it would 🤧

at the beginning of the fic—if you don’t know about taemin’s infamous slippers here are some references lol

“Open the door for your best friends!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Taemin’s head peeks through the crack in his front door only a few seconds later, and he grins at the sight of you and Kai standing on his front step, overnight bags in hand. “Took you long enough.”

“We would’ve got here sooner if Y/N didn’t take a hundred years to find her favorite slippers,” Kai says, snorting.

“I can’t go anywhere without them, they’re part of my bedtime routine,” you protest, stepping inside as Taemin opens the door wider for the two of you to come in. “And I am not wearing Taemin’s rat fur shoes as a consolation prize like he tried to make me do last time.”

Taemin rolls his eyes at your complaint. “Rat fur slippers or not, you have no problem stealing all my other clothes.”

“It’s not my fault your clothes are so cozy.”

“You say that every time you steal our stuff,” Kai points out, walking past you both to make himself comfortable on Taemin’s couch. “How many of my poor hoodies are hanging up in your closet, never to be worn by me again?”

“Just the right amount,” you insist, dropping your bag to the floor and jumping onto the couch with Kai, splaying yourself across his legs and the couch cushions. He grins at you like you’re an overexcited kid and leans against the back of the couch.

“You’re so goofy. I hope you don’t plan on having me take care of you all weekend like the last time you ate too much sugar and crashed like hell,” Kai says, tapping his finger on your forehead and making you swat his hand away.

“No, I’m not gonna do that again...I don’t need to be babysat, Jongin!”

Taemin passes by the two of you on the couch and pinches your thigh as he goes; fortunately for him, he’s fast enough to escape a slap from you. “Don’t worry...even if it does happen, we’ll take good care of you.” He leaves with a joking smile as he goes into the other room, though the teasing note in his tone makes you wonder for a brief moment.

—

A few hours later, the three of you are in the kitchen preparing snacks for your movie night—which usually ends up with you and Kai doing most of the work because Taemin tends to be a mess in the kitchen. Kai’s phone pings from the living room, and he leaves the both of you alone to go check what it is. Taemin sidles up to your side as soon as Kai exits the room, and you give him a questioning look when his arm goes around your waist.

“What do you want,” you deadpan.

“Don’t be so mean to me.” His tone is playful, but the lips at your ear are not so innocent. “We haven’t even seen each other in a while.”

“I know, which is why I’m astounded at your inability to keep it in your pants. You should’ve had plenty of practice by now.” Taemin gives an amused laugh, his eyes watching the doorway the entire time, and while the coast is still clear he takes the opportunity to press his hot lips against your neck. You shy away from him, but only because you don’t want to get caught.

One game of Truth or Dare with Taemin more than a year ago had gotten out of hand—a game the three of you usually played together, but Kai had been busy with EXO’s promotions for Obsession at the time—and the next thing you knew, you were sleeping with one of your good friends.

You knew that friends-with-benefits arrangements often ended in flames—you’d seen it happen too often with your other friends and their sexual partners—but you didn’t regret anything about the situation. You both enjoyed the sex, and it hadn’t managed to ruin your friendship, so neither of you saw any real reason to stop. No regrets—except for maybe the fact that you were keeping it secret from Kai.

It was Taemin’s suggestion and you went along with it, though you weren’t really sure what difference it made. He always acted as if letting the younger man know would be too much shock for him to take, or maybe he’d find it awkward to continue hanging out with you two, which you found ridiculous (it turned out fine with him, why did it need to be kept from Kai?) but you weren’t interested in arguing about it.

Taemin looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s suddenly zipping away from your side just as quick as he came. You see the reason why when Kai walks back into the room seconds later, seemingly unaware of Taemin’s earlier antics. You screw up your mouth and glare at Taemin for almost getting caught when all this secrecy was his idea.

Kai raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Taemin is bothering you again.”

“When is he not?”

“Stop pretending like you don’t love it.” Taemin pulls out aegyo that makes both you and Kai cringe like you’ve been stung. Taemin laughs at both your expressions, though he’s also a bit embarrassed for even trying to use the cute card on you; you rarely fell for those tricks of his.

Kai shakes his head. “This is going to be a long weekend.”

—

Despite Taemin having more than enough space in his home to host all three of you in your own rooms, you all end up in Taemin’s bed when you decide to turn in for the night. Kai swore he was only stopping in to talk before going back to his own room, but he never left his side of the bed even after the overhead lights were turned out. You lie in between the two men the whole time, enjoying their body heat on either side of you and the comfort of having them nearby.

Kai is already knocked out on your left, but Taemin remains awake, his eyes sparkling with devilment in the dark. He angles his body more towards you, lying on his side, and you mean to ask what he’s doing and why he’s not asleep yet when his hand lands on your thigh.

Your lips part and your mouth moves aimlessly for a few moments as his hand works up and down your thigh, warming you up. “Jongin…” you finally whisper, and both of you know that you speaking the other man’s name is not you trying to call out for him—it’s a warning.

“...is asleep,” Taemin says, unfazed.

“This is wrong,” you mutter, but you don’t make a move to stop him when his hand comes closer to the space between your thighs. Taemin brushes his fingers across your pubic mound as he reaches his hand over to your other thigh, teasing you. “You were the one who wanted to keep all this hidden. Remember that.”

“Correct,” he responds, still sounding perfectly casual about the entire situation. “And we still can, if you just be quiet for a little while and let me do this.”

“Can’t you wait until later?” Your voice comes out strained. When his hand inches closer to your inner thigh again, you don’t know whether you want to ask him to stop for his own good or go further. “Like when he’s in the shower or something?”

Taemin slides his hand fully between your legs now, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit. “I have to touch you.” He says it like he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t get the opportunity now. The tinge of neediness in his voice breaks something inside you and makes you want to relent without a single question more.

The sudden movement of his palm on the most sensitive part of your body causes you to jerk, and your elbow hits Kai right in the side by accident. For a tense moment, you think maybe you haven’t woken him, but then he grumbles and gently shoves you back. “Why are you elbowing me?” he murmurs, and then you freeze when he turns his head and opens his eyes to look at you. His eyes are only cracked halfway, but even in the dim room you know there is a good chance he can see how Taemin’s hand is now halfway tucked into your sleep pants as he begins his descent into your underwear. You stay stock-still as if that’ll make him unable to see you, which feels as ridiculous as it sounds.

“I-it was an accident, sorry,” you stammer. Kai doesn’t respond right away, too busy blinking his eyes against the dark. Then he says,

“If you two are going to do that, go in another room.” He scoffs and turns over, and you’re mortified. He sounded completely nonchalant about finding the two of you in a compromising position, which makes you wonder; does he somehow already know about the arrangement you two have? Maybe neither of you were ever really as sneaky as you’d thought.

“You should join us,” Taemin suggests, throwing yet another wrench into the situation. Kai’s body stiffens beside you, and there’s silence before he faces you both again.

“Join?”

“Aren’t you being a little—”

“Yes, join.” Taemin interrupts you, and you roll your eyes, pinching his arm. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it before.”

“What does that mean?” you blurt out, jerking your head to look at Taemin. What secrets have they been keeping from you? Kai looks equally bewildered, which makes you more confused.

“I—when have I suggested anything like that?” Kai argues, though his voice is uncertain.

“You don’t have to. You are easy to read, Jongin.” Kai makes a disapproving noise at Taemin’s statement.

“Easy to read? What about you thinking you were being sneaky with Y/N this whole time—”

“Well, I thought we were pretty damn clever—”

“Look, if you two are just going to go back and forth, I’m going to sleep—”

“Fine. Let me join, then.” You want to complain at being interrupted again, but Kai’s words make you pause. And then his eyes drift over to you, his face turning towards yours on the pillow and his voice becoming more yielding. “If you’re okay with it.”

You feel a bit winded, never really expecting him to say yes. But now here it is, out in the open and waiting for you to take hold of it—or shun it away. You also know yourself well enough to understand the second choice isn’t even an option for you. Taemin waits in silence to see what your answer will be, though the corner of his mouth is already lifting in a smirk because he can take a good guess.

“Okay. Then let’s do it.”

With your acceptance, there’s a tense pause as everyone waits to see what the other will do first.

Taemin makes the first move by sliding his hand the rest of the way into your underwear, his fingers dipping down to feel you. You’re not as wet as he’d like yet, which he immediately seeks to remedy by rubbing your clit and bringing his plush lips to your exposed collarbone.

“Kiss her,” Taemin says in between laying kisses of his own across your chest. Kai stays still for a moment longer, and you wonder if he’s regretting this decision, but when you glance up at him his eyes are glued to where Taemin’s hand is moving beneath your pajamas. Finally, he tears his stare away from the scene playing out in front of him and meets your gaze, coming closer to press his mouth on yours.

More often than not, Taemin’s kisses are heated and frantic, as if he can never kiss you enough—which is not to knock his experience or skill, because he has more than enough to satisfy you—but Kai is soft and slow against your mouth, kissing you deeply and intensely like he might not get to do it again.

Taemin laughs quietly against your neck at how you grow wetter beneath his fingers from this one kiss.

Kai’s touch is a little more tentative because he hasn’t done this with you before, but his hands go to the hem of your shirt. He goes underneath the fabric, pushing it up your stomach along the way, to touch your breasts. Your nipples harden at his touch, and he rolls them between his deft fingers. It doesn’t take long for him to begin desiring more contact, and he shoves your shirt up above your chest, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Taemin situates himself further down to let Kai have his way with your upper body and introduces one of his fingers into you, sliding the slender digit inside and crooking it up to find that soft spot. You twitch around him, your thighs tensing and flexing, and he keeps his lips pressed close to your hips, biting the skin there and then dragging his tongue across the places he’s just irritated. You’re already feeling overwhelmed at having both men pleasure you at the same time, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the night.

Your pulse races against Kai’s mouth as his kisses travel to your neck, making you shiver. “Does that feel good?” Kai asks, his voice low, and you nod without a second thought. You belatedly realize he’s referring to Taemin's actions when you notice his eyes have drifted below the waist again. He seems entranced with the way Taemin fingers you, or maybe he just wants a turn for himself.

“It does,” you say, as if your nod wasn’t confirmation enough. Your words trail out of you in a breathless whisper. Kai soon shifts lower down your body just as Taemin eases another finger into you, which makes you moan softly. You think your heart might beat out of your chest when Kai settles himself beside Taemin, and you can guess what’s about to happen.

“Are you going to have her all to yourself?” Kai remarks, his tone joking.

“I was here first.” Taemin grins deviously, but he shuffles over to make more room for Kai between your legs.

As Taemin keeps moving his fingers inside you, brushing them against your g-spot and making you moan desperately, Kai lowers his head and drags his tongue over your clit. You gasp sharply at this brand-new sensation; the sight of it is even more erotic than you could’ve imagined. Kai wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit and Taemin observes closely as the other man sucks and licks into you. Though Taemin sometimes likes to pretend he isn’t as easily aroused as you know he can be, he can’t hide the way his breaths grow rushed and his face becomes more flushed.

The soft but intense sucking of Kai’s mouth and the smooth strokes of Taemin’s fingers have you careening off the edge faster than you anticipated, and your legs scrabble against the sheets as you toss and turn in the tide of a strong orgasm.

Kai comes back to your upper body when he’s finished, leaning in close to where your head rests on the pillow. Your chest heaves as you try to regain your breath. He smiles down at your supine figure, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs against the seam of your mouth, and he slides his tongue in to let you taste yourself even more deeply.

Between kisses, Kai pulls your shirt the rest of the way off. You end up doing the same for him—with his help—and you run your hands over the newly exposed skin, feeling the soft but firm ridges of his abs underneath your palms. The length of his cock presses against his sleep pants, half-hard and still rising. Somewhere below you, Taemin removes your panties and pajama pants from around your ankles, and even though you feel spent, your body is already reacting to the idea of him pressing your legs open wider and pushing into you.

“Turn on your stomach,” Taemin instructs, though he’s already grabbing your hips and shifting you over before you can do it yourself. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to palm your ass as he does, his digits dipping down between your legs like he’s going to start fingering you again. Some nights, he can spend forever doing just that—pulling you apart with his hands and mouth and denying you his dick until he finally feels like giving it to you.

His plans for tonight are a little different, though.

Taemin taps your lower back and says, “I think you know what to do.” You can’t see his face, but he must be giving Kai a certain look because the other man smirks, shaking his head.

“Come closer,” you say to Kai, because just as Taemin predicted, you know exactly what he expects you to do. You run your fingers up the length of Kai’s strong thighs, feeling the hard muscle of them and bringing your hands up higher to caress the bulge straining against his pants. Kai’s eyes grow heavier as he watches you palm his dick, and he settles himself in front of you with his legs spread.

You could probably occupy yourself all night with pulling reactions out of him and teasing him, getting to know what he likes and making him drip sticky precum down your hand. You are too eager to see his dick and feel him in your mouth, however, so you drag the waistband of his pants and underwear lower to bring it out. It’s thicker than Taemin’s, pretty and tan with prominent veins, and you can only imagine how it’s going to feel once he actually gets inside of you. Kai watches you with burning eyes as you grip the base in your hand and get his dick wet with your saliva, sliding your tongue across the shaft. A heavy, shaky breath leaves him when your mouth makes the first contact.

Behind you, Taemin’s cock nudges your entrance and then pushes in, and you whimper from being stretched while Kai’s dick bumps against your lips. Taemin keeps his hands on your ass as he begins thrusting into you, taking his time with it and building your pleasure up with slow thrusts. You want Taemin to move faster and send you spiraling headfirst into pleasure again, though. You whine with your mouth still around Kai’s tip, which makes him give an answering moan.

“Stop playing around and swallow his dick, Y/N,” Taemin taunts you from above. He angles his hips a bit differently to find your g-spot, and you make a choked noise when he locates it, causing Kai’s dick to slip from your mouth.

“Shut up, Taem. It’s not like you’re making it easy.” Taemin gives a sudden rough thrust in answer to that, and even Kai grins at the pleasured expression on your face and the surprised yelp you let loose.

“Try harder.” Taemin insists, and he lands a swift slap on your ass. It’s not harsh, but it’s enough to make you cry out. “You want her throat around your dick, don’t you, Jongin?”

Kai raises his eyebrows at Taemin’s words, but the twitch of his cock in your hand and the bob of his Adam’s apple are unmistakable. “Can you take it?” Kai asks you, voice thick with desire.

“Give it to me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for Kai to slide in. You’ve deep-throated Taemin numerous times before, and you are impatient to let Kai try it now. His gaze darkens, and he grips his cock and leads it deeper into your mouth. He shudders visibly when the warm, wet heat of your mouth envelops him. He hesitates for a moment, like he doesn’t want to go too deep and hurt you, but you look up at him from beneath your lashes with your best pleading eyes and he is completely lost to your longing expression. His stomach tenses when he pushes further, feeling the tight space of your throat squeezing around his tip. More precum drips from him.

“Good girl,” Taemin whispers from above, his eyes glued to the back of your head. He leans forward for a better view so he can watch Kai’s dick disappear between your lips, and that movement ends with his hips pressed flush against your ass, his length as far in you as it will go. You moan helplessly around Kai as Taemin continues fucking you at this depth and angle, one of his hands gripping your hip tightly. You feel beyond full, unable to think about anything other than the two men inside of you.

“Don’t come yet.” Taemin pushes into you as steadily as ever, rushing towards his own climax as his breaths grow more broken-off.

Kai groans as your tongue slides sloppily against his shaft, your body being repeatedly pushed forward by Taemin’s thrusts. He doesn’t even have to do much work to fuck your mouth. He only keeps his hand at the back of your head, more because he just needs to touch you somewhere rather than trying to control the pace. The wet and filthy sounds of his dick hitting the back of your throat bring him ever closer to his end, but Taemin’s gaze gives him pause. “You’re telling me not to come yet?”

“You still have to fuck her,” Taemin says, smacking your ass again. He slows his pace momentarily to lift your hips slightly, sneaking his hand beneath you to circle his fingers around your clit, and your body tenses as you give a stifled cry. “You’ve got to feel her. This pussy is so fucking good, isn’t it, Y/N? Want him to fuck this needy little hole? You’re already getting tighter around me just thinking about it...how dirty.” There’s no way to respond with your mouth currently occupied; you only give a low, shuddering moan.

“F-fuck.” Kai abruptly pulls himself out of your mouth to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake him at the sight of you looking so fucked-out. Like Taemin said, he definitely wants—needs—to be inside of you at least once before the night is over.

“J-Jong—” You want to beg for him to put his dick back in your mouth, gripping his thighs and trying to get closer, but those attempts are lost when your climax finally comes crashing over you. Taemin keeps his hand on your lower back to prevent you from squirming away from him as he continues thrusting into you throughout your orgasm, overstimulating your already wired senses. Weak with pleasure and shaking, you let Taemin use your body to get closer to his own end, which you’re more than happy to do.

Seconds later, Taemin is pulling out of you and stroking his dick, spilling his cum on your lower back and your ass. He lets go of his dick and slips it between your ass cheeks, thrusting between them and milking himself of the last few drops. He smirks at the messy creation he’s made all over your skin.

When Taemin lies on the bed next to you, Kai sheds his pants and takes his place. Kai gently turns you onto your back and grabs your weakened legs, pulling them around his waist, and you let him maneuver your body as he wants.

When he pushes into you, you almost want to sob at the way his dick spreads you open, sliding deep inside your oversensitive pussy. His eyebrows crease together at how you feel around him, so warm and wet.

Kai’s pace is not as quick as Taemin’s; his strokes are deep and hard as he buries himself inside and pulls nearly all the way out. Your lingering pleasure is stoked even higher by the intense way he’s fucking you, and your muscles feel like they might cramp up, but he keeps your legs spread open for better access.

“Is it good, Y/N? Do you love it?” Taemin asks from beside you, his voice light and airy as if he’s in awe of it all. His hands sneak over to your breasts, and his lips soon follow.

“Fuck, yes.” Kai brings one of your legs up to his shoulder to get a better angle. His gaze is burning as he looks at you and Taemin—Taemin sucking your breasts, your knitted eyebrows and half-open mouth, the sight of his shaft disappearing into you. “You feel s-so good. So fucking deep...” You grab Kai’s arms on either side of you, nails pricking his skin.

“Y/N…” Kai’s voice has grown rough, tinged with desperation. Sweat drips from his face and down his abs. His pace increases, and the tension tightens in your lower stomach again as his hips slap against yours.

Taemin grips your chin and turns your face towards his, sliding his tongue into your mouth in a wet kiss. At the same time, he moves his other hand lower to stroke his fingers across your clit, and this pushes you off the edge into a dizzying orgasm. It’s strong enough to turn your whole world blurry with an endless ecstasy.

When Kai gets close, he pulls out like Taemin did to jerk himself off and come across your stomach, painting your skin with his warm cum. His groans are deep and rich and lovely, and they make you clench with the last waning vestiges of your orgasm.

Kai lies beside you on the free side that Taemin isn’t occupying, keeping one hand on your thigh like he needs to have some part of you always touching him.

“We need to clean up,” you mumble, uncomfortable with the cum drying on your skin, though you’re also trying to battle the increasing sleepiness threatening to drape itself over your eyes like a veil.

“Maybe later.” Taemin throws an arm around your waist and cuddles his face into your neck. Kai grins and nudges his nose against your ear, tickling your skin. Their breaths fan over your skin, and you sigh and close your eyes, contented despite the mess.

“Fine. As long as you carry me to the shower later.”

801 notes · View notes

missluckycharms · 3 years

Text

These small moments.

Single Dad!Harry and his little love, Honey.

Summary: mornings with Honey are Harrys favourite, small chats with blurry eyes and lazy smiles is what makes him feel closer to his little lady.

A/N: ahhh they’re so 🥺 enjoy !!

Click *** for visuals throughout the story.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff and dad jokes.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist.

It’s nearly seven in the morning.

The sunrise shining through the windows and casting a bright warm hue onto Harry’s sleeping body in his bed. The white sheets tossed about and his head buried in the pillow, his cheek smushed to up and his lips slightly parted letting out small snores.

The only sound throughout the whole house is the sound of birds chirping about outside and the engines of cars on their way down the roads, the morning rush nearly upon the streets as people make their way to their nine till five jobs. The house has a slight breeze throughout due to Harry always sleeping with his window cracked open, and his door cracked open also to allow honey to walk in when she needed her Papa.

Speaking of the little love, she’s already awake, in her own small pink coloured bed, many pillows around her and her stuffies lined up against the wall, her favourite stuffie in her hand — Pascal from Tangled is her favourite stuffie, she brings him everywhere, even sneaks him into school in her back pack when Harrys not looking. She does this every morning, she lays in bed and talks to her stuffie or just stares at the ceiling, her glow in the dark stars now white and barely noticeable in the bright room, her pink curtains casting a pink hue around the room.

She waits five minutes before she’s hopping out of her bed and padding along towards her door, she pulls it open as it’s only closed a little, allowing enough of a gap for her small body to fit through. She snuggles pascal as she walks, looking around and noticing her Papa must still be asleep, she immediately darts for his room, peeping her curly head in and looking at his sleeping body, his back facing her and his bed messy as usual, but there’s always enough space for her to snuggle up next to him.

She doesn’t wake him, she tip toes towards the side he’s not laying on, throwing pascal up first before she’s hiking herself up on the large bed, a small groan when she has to put more strength into getting up than usual due to her sleepy state. When she’s up, she brushes the curls from her face with a harsh swipe, her blue doe eyes looking at her Papa, his hair messy like hers. She lays down on the pillow, looking at her Papa as she softly taps his cheek and pushes pascal towards him.

“G’morning button” he grumbles when he hears a small giggle, pascal now on his back as her dimples pop out at how ridiculous the man looks with a small green chameleon stuffie on his bare back. He smiles when he hears her hearty laugh, instantly wrapping his tattooed arm around her and squishing her into his chest.

“Papa! Cant see!” She laughs loudly, her small body being caged by her Dad’s broad muscular one, his own laughs filling the room as she peeps her head up at him, a small pout on her lips which causes him to lean down and peck her lips lightly.

“Have a good sleep? Yeah?” He asks when she nods happily, her small hand playing with his cross necklace as he shuts his eyes for a few more minutes, face buried in her chestnut curls as she talks to him and pascal, Harry never knowing which one she’s actually talking to sometimes.

“Papa? Pancakes now?” She asks after another five minutes, her small attention span running out which causes Harry to wake up from resting his eyes, smile back on his face as he turns them over so he’s laying on his back and Honey is sat on his stomach slapping his chest looking at his tattoos — she loves his tattoos or his “paintings” as she calls them.

“Papa, your pearlies are gone” she says disappointed looking to see that her favourite necklace of his which is his Pearl one, is missing. She loves to run her small hands over it, the feeling and look of it making her eyes wide in awe at the beauty of it.

“Should I wear them today?” He asks with a smile, watching as she rubs her eyes a little, slowly waking herself up as she lets out a small yawn, her small pouty lips returning as she babbles on nonsense as Harry tries to tame her hair a little before he has to style it for her today.

“Love your pearlies Papa” she says brightly, laying down on his chest, her curls tickling his chin as he wraps and arm around her back, rubbing small circles on it as she relaxes a little, her small body still trying to wake up as Harry softly kisses her head.

It’s when his alarm rings when the two actually peel themselves from bed, Honey immediately springing up and slapping his phone to turn off the sound, it’s her favourite thing to do for some reason, she always shouts “I did it Papa!” Which makes him laugh and nod kissing her head proudly. They’re both in the kitchen now, the early start allowing them to lounge about in their comfy clothes for awhile while they make breakfast. Harry is only in a pair of grey joggers while Honey sits on the counter, helping him add in flour and sugar to the pancake batter in her baby pink bunny printed silk pyjama set *** the darker complexion of her skin standing out against the pale pink, Harry was overjoyed when he seen she had the same skin tone as her Mum, her darker skin causing her blue eyes to be brighter.

“Wanna help crack an egg button? Need t’be careful though, don’t want crunch pancakes now do we?” He asks with a grin as she pulls a disgusted face shaking her head. Her small palm helps her Papa’s hand crack the egg and she giggles watching it plop down into the dry mixture.

They scarf down their banana pancakes through small chats and giggles, Harry cracking his usual jokes that have Honey giggling loudly as she shovelled her pancakes into her mouth, their faces hurting from laughing by the time they’re up in her bedroom, Harry standing at her drawers, holding up small outfits as Honey sits like the diva she is on her bed, giving him a thumbs down when she doesn’t like an outfit he picks. She’s so stubborn, but she gets that from him.

“I do it Papa!” She says annoyed now, marching over to him as she picks her up with a laugh, her small hands rooting about until she pulls out a white cable knit jumper with a few frills on the sleeves and a baby pink velvet pinafore to go over it. She smiles up at him as he nods, happy with her choice. ***

“Did good button, need to put some tights on you though, getting a bit nippy out” he says as she nods, walking towards her sock drawer and pulling out some white knitted tights with an smile as Harry gives her a thumbs up, causing her to laugh loudly.

“Why Papa shave?” She asks sitting on the sink, her small outfit on her and her brown boots swinging on her feet as she dangles them off the counter beside the sink watching as Harry applies his shaving foam and wets his razor under the water, he’s still shirtless and only in his joggers as Honey watches on — she loves watching him, when he’s shaving his face or when he’s cooking, even when he does something a small as put her DVD in the player, she’s fascinated by him and Harry thinks it’s because he’s all she has, and he doesn’t mind being the centre of her attention as she is his.

“Papa has hair on his face, sometimes it gets itchy when it lets long. You don’t like it sure you don’t, always complaining it tickles when I kiss ya” he says with a laugh, his hand gliding the razor over his face as he inspects himself in the mirror, trying not to nick himself as Honey watches on curiously.

“Yuck! Hate Papas beard, gross!” She says as Harry looks at her, his face shaven and the foam gone, he picks up his curl cream and scrunches it through his hair a little.

“S’not nice to say gross button, remember? Cant say things are gross” he warns her, her small face falling but nodding as she takes the small scolding from her Papa, he rarely scolds her and when he does, he feels guilty but he knows it’s for her own good. Apart from a few slip ups here and there, she’s the most well mannered toddler ever, everyone that meets her complements Harry on his good parenting which means so much to him due to what he’s been through to get to where he is now.

It’s another few minutes before Harry is fully dressed, a baby blue striped grey suit *** on his body and his usual gucci heeled boots that Honey loves the sound of, she instantly perks up at the sound knowing her Papa is near. She claps when he walks out from the bathroom, it’s her new thing, she claps like he’s putting on a fashion show, causing him to strike a pose which causes her to fall back onto the bed in fits of laughter.

“Alright button, hair time!” He says as she widens her eyes, trying to wriggle off his bed and run away. She hates her hair being combed due to her curls being unruly and always tangled on her head. He grabs her and makes monster noises at her, tickling her belly as she screams out a laugh, nearly falling from his arms as he places her down on the counter by the sink, she spins around and watches herself in the mirror.

“What are we going for today Miss Styles?” He asks her like a professional hair stylist, her smile wide as she grabs a pink hair tie with small butterfly clips also, she shows them to him in the mirror as he smiles, taking her hair brush and de tangling spray. He struggles a little but he gets there in the end, her hair tied up in a pony tail and the small butterfly clips all around her head as she smiles brightly at herself.

“Did good job Papa!” She says clapping her hands, seeing how her Dad is improving, he’s been watching tutorials nightly and even trying some on himself as he gets used to braiding and all that stuff for when she starts asking for more complex styles in her curly hair.

He packs her bag and they’re both out the door quickly, he straps her into her booster seat in his black Range Rover, her legs dangling about as she rings and dances to the song on the radio, Harry keeping his eyes on the road but they flicker to hers in the rear view mirror when she speaks to him. Honey loves school, she loves her teacher and she loves making new friends due to her out going personality that she definitely got from her Mum, she could make friends with a tree if she was near one.

She’s holding his hand as he walks her in the gates, the other kids all lining up on their designated class spot on the ground, a yellow circle painted on the tarmac signalling the younger class. The Mums are all there with their kids, the odd few Dads there also but it’s always the Mums who are smiling and speaking to Harry as they watch their kids walk into their classroom, small hands waving as they excitedly march into the school. He doesn’t stay long after she’s gone in, mainly because the Mums have no filter and would publicly flirt with the single Dad even when they have wedding bands on their fingers.

He brushes off all the women, smiling at them as he runs out the gate, hearing them all whisper amongst themselves as they excitedly look on as he pulls away in his expensive car heading towards his work building. Harry feels empty when Honey is gone, he loves mornings with her, just him and her going about their mornings, making breakfast and cracking up at jokes they tell one another back and forth over banana pancakes every morning, some mornings they have cereal if they wake up late and sometimes if they wake up extra early and can’t go back asleep, they get ready and Harry brings her out for breakfast before dropping her off at school.

It’s the little moments with Honey that Harry cherishes, knowing she won’t be his little love for very long, but doesn’t think about that. He lives in the present with her and he loves how they are now, he loves his little lady with all his heart.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fandom #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #singledad!harry #single dad au #fanfic authors #fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader

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rae-gar-targaryen · 3 years

Text

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that.

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 (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty.

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here.

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing.

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it.

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it.

And so you didn’t.

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication.

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes.

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you.

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity.

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't."

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility.

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing.

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door.

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door.

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered.

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time.

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel.

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school.

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation.

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status.

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid.

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art.

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl.

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling.

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway.

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone.

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up.

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny.

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you.

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends.

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre.

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books.

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook.

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet.

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders.

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.

“Oliver here?”

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?”

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.”

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted.

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation.

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?”

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt?

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken. He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge.

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you.

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.”

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?”

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.”

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options.

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?”

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly.

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair.

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time."

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest.

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules?

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever."

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?"

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement.

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work.

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea."

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything.

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book.

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face. You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages.

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?”

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh.

“Did you think of that one?”

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod.

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.”

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?”

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?”

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?”

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.”

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready.

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally.

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence.

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him.

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings.

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence.

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand.

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?”

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you.

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.”

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!”

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away.

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece.

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves.

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely.

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.”

He seemed puzzled.

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?”

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.”

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you.

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.”

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him.

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?”

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin.

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter.

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move.

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work.

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features.

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged.

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.”

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before.

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?”

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.”

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop.

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all…

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness.

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm.

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you.

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before.

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her.

Ah. So she knew who you were.

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake.

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.”

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?”

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life.

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently.

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there.

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --”

That was a hard no.

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up.

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby.

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?”

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly.

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.”

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all.

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation.

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said.

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right?

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco.

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.”

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt.

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side.

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features.

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date.

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.”

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you.

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery.

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?”

What the fuck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you.

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now.

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical.

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?”

That was you, ever the professional.

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search.

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest.

“You got it.”

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo.

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence.

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal.

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.”

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last.

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing.

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.”

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe:

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?”

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this.

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.”

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done.

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement.

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath.

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude.

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment.

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air.

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side?

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute.

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed.

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met.

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face.

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.”

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway.

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute.

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji.

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair.

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?”

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth.

“Boy?”

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared.

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?”

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately.

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel.

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.”

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away.

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings.

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind.

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude.

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime.

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat.

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you.

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing?

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little.

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?”

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb.

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre.

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue.

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset.

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge.

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest.

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently.

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?"

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip.

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town.

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso.

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this.

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted.

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back.

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day.

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point.

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you.

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed.

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead.

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each.

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers."

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me."

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family."

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome."

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you.

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel.

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines.

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips.

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?"

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate.

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts.

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours.

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him.

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders.

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt.

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder.

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room.

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you."

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine.

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me."

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders.

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless.

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch.

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides.

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously."

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs.

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body.

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention.

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together.

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response.

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth.

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue.

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more.

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin.

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you.

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside."

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form.

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration.

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore,

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours.

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you.

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me."

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby."

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him.

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath.

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks.

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing.

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end.

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them.

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind.

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you.

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes.

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him.

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him.

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't.

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex.

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart.

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply,

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then…

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him.

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion.

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply,

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.”

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way.

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--"

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on.

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it."

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why.

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite.

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it.

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more?

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it."

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car.

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them.

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp.

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning.

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day.

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest.

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now?

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t.

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel.

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking.

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour @luckyharley1903

#angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes angst #angel reyes smut #angel reyes #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc fic #my writing #rachel writes #holy shittttt this boy is long #it just got away from me #sorry #loved you once

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xcrystalzero · 3 years

Text

sun is up

pairing: kaeya x f!reader

summary: who knew that waking up next to a stupidly handsome cavalry captain could be so conflicting?

note: hehe. also this one is a little spicy (not very because i'm shy but still) so minors begone!

The sunlight was hitting your face from the wrong side. With a groan, you threw a hand over your eyes in an effort to block out the intruding rays. Not to much avail of course since sunlight had a tendency to seep in through any opening it was given.

It was warm too, a gentle, unfamiliar warmth that seemed to surround you, seeping into your bones and tempting you again and again with the comfortable lull of sleep.

However, your brain knew that it was morning now and no matter how tight you closed your eyes or how deep you snuggled back into the blankets, you weren't going to be able to go back to sleep.

With a resigned sigh, you let your hand fall back down to your side, allowing your eyes to flutter gently open. The sight that greeted you was no less than disorienting.

You had been right, the sunlight was coming from the wrong side of the room. Maybe because this wasn't your room. Sitting up, your still drowsy brain decided that it was time to take a look around. The room wasn't extravagant, but not quite bare either. That wasn't what caught your attention however.

On the ground just a few feet from the edge of the bed lay a pile of clothing. It occurred very slowly to your still offline brain that some of that was yours. You could see it from here, the worn pants from your Knight's of Favonius uniform and that lacy black bra you had bought a few days ago in an effort to feel just a little more sexy. Oh how you loved that bra.

The other half of the clothing however, was a bit of a mystery. Cocking your head, you identified a pair of brown boots, what looked like black gloves, and fluffy white fur collar. Those seemed familiar for some reason.

It was at that moment that you felt the bed shift slightly under you. With a soft gasp, you whirled around, drowsiness falling away in sudden panic as you prepared for an ambush.

You were not however, prepared for what you did see.

It was no secret that Kaeya was a beautiful man. From the deep navy of his hair to the physique his work as a captain had earned him, he was attractive and he knew it. The sight before you now however, was by far the most beautiful side of Kaeya you had ever seen.

His face was turned towards you, half buried in the pillow his head was resting on, silky strands of hair fanned around him in a deep blue halo. The sunlight that had so rudely awoken you cast gentle rays on his face, turning his tanned skin golden and accentuating the line of his collarbone not concealed by the covers. Perhaps the most majestic part however, was his expression. Kaeya was an expressive man and you'd seen just about every emotion, real or fake, cross his features at one point or another. Now however, all those exaggerated angles were gone and for once in his life, the Cavalry Captain looked relaxed. And then he shifted just a bit, the covers rising slightly to reveal the side of his toned torso.

Relaxed and naked apparently...

"Oh shi-" you smacked a hand over your mouth, eyes blowing wide open in horror as things actually started to register. Kaeya Alberich was in your bed. Or no, you were in his? And he was naked. And you were also definitely naked. And-

Unbidden, images of last night rushed forth and you remembered.

"My beautiful [name], would you be so kind as to join me at the tavern this evening?"

That was what had started it. A simple invitation when you really needed a drink. If you remembered correctly, Kaeya hadn't been much better considering how many bottles of wine you two had gotten through before Diluc had grown cross and kicked you out.

You remembered very well, the midnight wind in your hair and Kaeya's hand on your shoulder as you drunkenly braved the streets of Mondstat. And then somehow, you'd been at his place. You just wanted to make sure that he was safe as you knew all too well the kind of messes drunk Kaeya could manage to get himself into.

Yes, you had just wanted to drop him off. But then he was so close to you and you were breathing in his scent, that stupidly comforting scent that you'd been trying for weeks to ignore. His lips were at your ear and he was asking you something in a desperate, very un-Kaeya voice.

"Please, can I kiss you?"

And you nodded because of course you did. No matter what the logical part of your brain tried to tell you every single time you were near him, you knew. This was what you had been hoping for, dreaming of ever since you had met him. You had told yourself it was impossible, that his flirtatious words were a luxury that everyone got to experience, thrown about with no less care than a comment about the weather.

But now, those words were saved just for you. Whispers of "you look so beautiful like this" and "you're so good for me" spoken softly enough that your doubted even the wind could catch them. And then his hands were on you, cold cryo fingertips tracing up your waist and then to your back as they worked at hooks and pulled you further into him.

And your hands were in his hair and then on the clasps of his corset and the ties of his pants, yanking and throwing as though they were the things you hated most in the world. Perhaps at that point in your life, they had been. And then he had been on you, pushing you down into the bed as you arched upwards to meet him, the feeling of wanting to touch him the strongest thing you had felt in your entire life. And then he had reached down...

And... you had slept with your coworker.

It took all the self control in you not to leap out of the bed immediately as you considered your options. There was no way you could stay around until Kaeya woke up. Or, could you? Again, there was that voice in your brain, begging you to just nestle back into the covers and savor this time you got to spend with him. You had to ignore it. This wasn't anything special after all right? You two had just needed to blow off some steam and had seen each other as convenient.

Kaeya was just that kind of guy right? No strings attached, no commitments.

It didn't matter that just seeing him roaming the courtyard from your office window was enough to spike your heart rate through roof. That when he stood a little too close to you during meetings, you had to ball your hands into fists to resist grabbing the lapels of his jacket and smashing your lips into his right then and there.

"Please..." he had said. This stupid beautiful man was going to be the end of you.

"I just have to get out..." you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself into a sitting position in hopes that action would clear your thoughts. You got halfway off the bed when you heard it.

"And where do you think you're going?"

The world went cold. It took you a moment to work up the courage to turn towards the voice, eyes still wide in surprise as you did. You could have sworn that Kaeya was asleep. Everything had suggested it from the uniform rhythm of his breath to the limpness of his splayed arms.

And yet, there he was, very much awake, one visible eye glinting in amusement at your reaction.

"So the eyepatch stays on during sex..." was the only thought your brain could produce in that moment and you honestly could have slapped yourself.

"G-Good morning Kaeya..." you decided on instead, though it only seemed to amuse the man further as he too sat up right behind you.

"Good morning to you too. And to think you were trying to sneak out just a moment ago without saying anything to me..." He was close again, his breath on your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly, his arms came up, sliding under yours before closing right underneath your chest, pulling you into his.

You wriggled slightly in his grip, breathe hitching as his lips made their way down, grazing against your neck. "I-I thought you'd like that better. Since this... this is just a one-time thing." The words hurt to get out and you felt Kaeya stiffen slight behind you.

Without warning, you were yanked backwards, a soft yelp escaping your lips as you found yourself nestled amongst the pillows once again, though this time, a pair of arms encircled you, caging you in with nowhere to run.

Kaeya's periwinkle eye looked down at you when your panicked gaze flew up to meet his, steady and more sincere than you were sure you had ever before seen.

"Now, is that what you really think of our relationship? I'm hurt..." He reached over, taking your chin gently in his fingers as he angled your head up towards him. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?"

You gulped.

"No. I want you forever. I want you all the time and I just want you to want me too."

You couldn't say it. You couldn't risk it.

Kaeya must have mistaken your silence of a yes however as he retracted his hands immediately. He pulled himself off of you, settling on the edge of the bed with his back to you. It may have just been that stupid thing called hope, but for a moment, you thought that you say hurt in his gorgeous eye.

"Ah I see, well that's fine as well. For what it was, that was a pretty fun night. Shall we go get breakfast or something?" That had to be pain. He was good at hiding his emotions, but you knew Kaeya better than anyone. He was hurt.

"... no."

"Not a breakfast person? That's alright then, you're welcome to see yourself out whenever you'd like."

"No I don't want it to be a one-time thing. I want you Kaeya, for as long as you'll let me." You didn't know where the words were coming from but when he whirled to face you once more, hope in his eyes, you knew you couldn't stop. "So, please don't make me leave?"

Apparently that was all it took as you barely got a moment to breathe before his lips were on yours. It took you a moment but you returned the kiss, hands reaching up to pull him down into you. His lips were hungry, threatening to devour you if you didn't hold your ground. Unconsciously, you arched against him and through the kiss, you could feel his smile.

There was a strange warm feeling growing in your chest that only seemed to amplify the moment Kaeya pulled away, the most genuine smile you had ever seen from him plastered over his lips.

"Oh darling, you have no idea what you just got yourself into..."

note: maybe i'll write one of these for a bunch of characters... you guys wanna see that?

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader

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yoontaethings · 3 years

Text

normal kind of love — jjk (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: explicit

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a lot of cussing and some teasing if you squint, but other than that none really (the warnings will come next chapter lmao)

you’re one half of hollywood’s on-screen it couple. the greatest chemistry known on-screen with the one and only, jeon jungkook, the bane of your existence.

a/n: this was supposed to be a longer chapter but i decided to split it in half to tease potential readers mwahaha btw this chapter is very very unedited, though i did postpone the upload because i had to remove some parts because i just thought the story didn’t need those bits anymore lol but the rest of this story i haven’t even read through yet, i just wrote and wrote and wrote so please excuse any errors (my tenses might also not be consistent but i’ll edit this soon)

taglist: @min-nicoleee @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @kokoandkookie @somelazysundays

There was no way.

There was no way in hell they were pairing you up with him. Again.

You were confirmed to be cast as the female lead in the movie before any other characters were casted. They should have chosen a different male lead for this romance film. Heck, even Kim Taehyung, a friend of yours, received an offer for the role and you were certain he planned to take it. Unfortunately for you, even if Taehyung wanted the role, he couldn’t accept it because of scheduling conflict with another film he’s already working on.

Jeon Jungkook, an actor you starred alongside in “Dangerous Illusion”, was just confirmed as the male lead of your upcoming movie “Chosen for Pleasure”. The same man who seemed to make it his life goal to ruin you. After Jungkook was confirmed to play the male lead in your upcoming movie, fans on Twitter have been blowing up about it and made you two a trending topic worldwide. Elated fans mentioned you in their tweets expressing how happy they were to see you two again together. You wish you could say you felt the same.

The previous movie you worked on was a thriller/mystery. You played the part of Jungkook's wife in the film. The film was a blockbuster hit, as a result of the well-thought storyline, yet additionally because of its leads. Fans adored the chemistry between you and Jungkook, regardless of not having a lot of romantic scenes in the film. There were a lot of fans who wanted to see you two on-screen once more, this time, in a romance focused film. Looks like their wishes were coming true.

To add insult to injury, your impending film was going to be an adult romance. It required some steamy scenes that normally didn't trouble you because you were a true professional, yet absolutely irritates you now since you need to do them with Jeon Jungkook.

The script reading was to be done today and your eyes opened an hour later than the time you set for your alarm because of the fucking snooze button. Seriously, why were snooze buttons even invented? They just allowed people to sleep through their alarms continuously.

Hand reaching for the phone on your nightstand, you knocked over a booklet that was over it. It was the script you spent hours reading to grab a sense of the character you were going to portray. Obviously, you already knew the basics about the part you were going to play, but knowing the entire story helped in portraying your character.

Your eyes squinted at the bright light of your phone that had the numbers 8:33 glaring at you, unlocking it to see a couple of texts and missed calls from your manager.

‘Are you awake yet?’

‘Please don’t tell me you forgot about the script reading today’

‘Ok I know you’re still asleep but just make sure you get ready on time, being late won’t do you and your image any favors’

‘I’ll pick you up at 9’

You rolled your eyes at his messages. You loved Hoseok and he was the best manager you could have been given from your agency, but he nagged too much. He was also your friend and his endless nags made you want to rip your eyeballs out sometimes because even when you’re supposed to unwind with him, he never forgets to remind you of your job.

‘I’m the fucking lead, Hobi, they’ll wait for me’

You slapped your phone back onto the nightstand and started going about with your morning routine. You didn’t have a lot of time, and even though you knew they would definitely wait for you, you hated being that bitch who made people wait so you took a quick shower and slapped on some sunscreen, powder, and finishing off with your go-to lipstick. You didn’t bother with makeup and dressing up. This was just going to be a script reading and sure, there were going to be photos taken but the thousands of dollars you’ve spent on facials and treatments already made sure your face was at least flawless despite the lack of effort.

Bringing only your phone, wallet and script, you exited your building and as usual, a shiny black van already awaited outside. Hoseok was leaning on it, scrolling through his phone when he sensed your presence and looked up.

“Oh, thank god you’re on time.” He exhaled in relief, pocketing his phone.

“I value sleep but you’re well aware I also value my career.”

Hoseok grinned. “Now there’s the y/n I know.” He then slid the van door open and you entered without another word.

The drive was pretty much uneventful, with you scrolling through your social media, seeing what fans have been tweeting about recently and with Hoseok humming along to the random pop music playing.

You longed for a distraction, something much more interesting than working your thumb throughout the drive because of the chasm that you were about to jump into when you arrived on set. You weren’t stupid enough to forget about the man who got the role of your romantic interest in the film. But you were wise enough to not let it haunt you for the past weeks. Now though, you can’t really avoid it anymore since you were supposed to be seeing him in person again after almost 2 years. You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms with Jungkook but who knows, maybe you’ll be able to act civil around each other.

At least you were sure you were going to act civil around him, already decided on taking the higher path. You’re not so sure about him, but fingers crossed he’ll at least be an adult about the situation and pretend he can stand being in the same room as you.

Soon enough, you were entering the room the script reading was to be held in. Bowing and greeting the actors and staff seated around the table as you passed by to get to the last vacant seat. You caught Jungkook’s eyes following your movements as you sat down. Luckily, he was seated across from you and it was easier to ignore his presence with the staff members greeting and coddling you.

As always, script reading began with actors introducing themselves and the role they’re going to play. As the female lead, you started off.

“Hello everyone. I’m y/n y/l/n and I’m going to take on the role of Yuri.” Hands clapped around you as you sat back down.

“Hello, I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’ll be playing Ryan.”

You didn’t bother clapping unlike the rest and avoided the eyes of the voice’s origin.

The script reading continued without a hitch– for the most part. The other cast members were very friendly, and laughter was exchanged during the read. The same couldn’t be said for you and Jungkook though.

When lines between your characters were exchanged, there was a weird tension in the room. It felt like everyone else were holding their breaths and waiting for either of you two explode and announce that you can’t do this film anymore. As dramatic as that would be, none of that happened. Instead, cheesy romantic lines sounded flat and bored from both you and Jungkook. The director made a tsk-ing sound whenever that happened.

“It’s always been you.” You read. The script said that Yuri and Ryan stared in adoration towards each other before Ryan uttered his next words.

“Marry me?” Jungkook asked.

You nodded your head as a wrap for the script reading. According to the script, there was supposed to be a kissing scene at the end, so you make ridiculous smooching noises. The cast burst into giggles before the director stood from his seat.

“…and that’s a wrap!” He clasped his hands together. “Hopefully when we start shooting things only look up from there.” He flitted his eyes between you and Jungkook.

Honestly, you wish that too but from yours and Jungkook’s history, you don’t really think that’s possible.

You were both professionals though and you’re sure you could at least count on him to make the on-screen romance feel real.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok said with pity in his eyes.

“Wha- but… why?” You asked, confused with what was happening.

Your part in the new film ‘The Notebook: Remake’ has apparently been withdrawn. As one of the rising stars in Hollywood, this was a really great opportunity for you. It’s one of the most anticipated films and accepting the offer of being the female lead in the movie was a no-brainer. Anyone who refuses that role is just stupid.

But now they were apparently taking it back.

Hoseok sighed. “There were too many scandals surrounding you recently. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, but you’ve been seen in hotels that Jeon Jungkook has been in too, and in everyone’s eyes you’re now secretly seeing him.”

“But we’ve never even been seen together in any of those photos. Don’t people know the word fucking coincidence?” Your brows furrowed, fists clenching at your sides. “And what does this have to do with my role in the film?”

“It seems they wanted someone with a ‘cleaner image’ and someone who’ll get the film to be a hit. Apparently, the romance won't be convincing if the female lead is dating someone in real life.”

You stared at Hoseok. He stared back waiting for a lash out, an angry outburst, anything really, but you remained silent, eyes unmoving. Soon enough, the dam doors burst open and the tears suddenly came streaming down your face. Hoseok exhaled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hobi what did I do so wrong to deserve this?” you sobbed into his chest.

“Shh, it’s not your fault they’re all dumbasses. But you know the industry, y/n. We’ll find better films for you, okay?”

“Why is Jeon Jungkook such a thorn on my side? Why is he always ruining everything for me?”

“We can’t blame him, honey. He’s probably a victim in this too because of those damn rumor outlets.” Hoseok rubbed his hands along your back.

“But I’m getting the short end of the stick! The rumor is probably just feeding his bad boy persona!”

“Life’s unfair, y/n. Surely by now you’re aware of that. Just remember, karma’s going to bite them in the ass someday, okay? For now, do you want to call it a day and go home? I’ll drive you back and I’ll just report to the agency that you’re not feeling well.”

You nod your head, too listless to bother answering with words because there was only one thing on your mind right now.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good looks. He just ruined the best opportunity for you. You were going to get him back for this. Like Hoseok said, karma’s going to bite him in the ass someday. And that karma was going to be you.

You were supposed to be looking forward to filming one of your dream movies with your dream director. But all you felt was dread when you arrived on set. You promised yourself that you’d stay unaffected to Jeon Jungkook, but you couldn’t help the distaste for him to be left on your face while filming.

The scene you were shooting was when your characters first met and the first takes were a total disaster. You and Jungkook barely spared each other a glance, even when your character was supposed to be enticed by him, breaking down Yuri’s cold exterior. A break was called after the 6th take because the director was so frustrated that he looked like he was about to call the casting director and replace his two leads.

You sighed, not knowing what to do with yourself after the announcement of a break. Your feet led you to your dressing room, ready to pass out on the couch but before you could, someone barged in. Your head turned towards the door, expecting it to be your manager or the director or anyone really, just not the person who currently stood at the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Jungkook asked. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to his biceps which bulged from his shirt as he crossed his arms. The damn arms looked delicious. Too bad they belonged to someone you would never ever be attracted to.

“Sure.” You shrugged your shoulders. You were sure he came here to talk to you about filming and how to work out your indifferences and shit like that and honestly, you were so tired of hating him you’re ready to just go along with whatever. Hating someone actually takes a lot of effort, you realize.

Jungkook stepped towards you until he’s close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to look at his eyes. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before his arms uncrossed and one of his hands landed on the wall behind you. He successfully caged you in with no way out. His lips part and your eyes are drawn to the movement, feeling his exhales on your nose. You swallowed nervously.

Good lord his breath smelled so good.

“Babe, I’m sure you’re just as thrilled as I am to be working with you again as you are with me, but let’s not mess this up okay? Let’s get this over with perfectly and quickly so we don’t have to deal with each other again after. Deal?” His eyebrows raised in question and you nodded dumbly, unable to form a coherent sentence with how close he was to you.

You felt a sudden rush of heat down there and was mentally cursing the man in front of you for how much he was affecting you. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in closer to your face as if he was about to kiss you then he suddenly stopped, his mouth forming a smirk, taunting you.

That smirk was all it took for you to snap back to reality. No, you were not going to let him take the upper hand here. A burst of confidence surged through you as you leaned closer to him too and allowed your lips to brush lightly against his cheek.

“Deal.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how his lips drooped apparently not expecting that. You looked down and there it was, the tenting of his pants that brought a coy smile to your lips. Ha, take that.

You glanced back up at him, your fingers trailing over his thighs. “Aw, didn’t realize you saw me that way Jeon.” You abruptly pulled away and walked out of the room without another word, leaving him hard and defeated.

This is the beginning of his karma, you thought as you grinned to yourself.

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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 3 years

Text

watching you

Pairings - Lee Bodecker x Reader

Word Count - over 2.5k (loads of them)

Warnings - stalkerish Lee, arsehole ex, gun violence, eventual smut, breeding kink.

A/N - firstly if you are a minor then shoo, come back when you’re 18 please. Secondly thanks to my wife @buckyownsmylife for proofing this for me and as always hyping me up enough to post. This is for her 2k birthday challenge and if you aren’t already following her then what are you waiting for?

A/N 2 - @dreamslikeaheartbeat surprised me with this awesome mood board earlier and I love it. I encourage you all to go and have a look at her work she’s amazing and you won’t regret it.

Being one of the only detectives in this small town meant that most people respected Lee Bodecker, he would always get a table at the diner, always go to the front of the queue and locals knew to do what they were told when he asked.

That was until you arrived, moving here from another state you knew absolutely nobody and decided to open a coffee shop across from the station. The day before you opened you took a tray of coffees and freshly baked muffins to the station to say hi and let everyone know you were excited to get to know them. You had everyone under your spell with your first smile but Lee knew something was up, young girls like you don’t just move from big cities to small towns for the hell of it.

It took him a week but he had you, you were running away from your husband, he was a small time criminal but his wrap sheet was one of the longest Lee had seen in a long time. You were only married for six months before you showed up here and he wanted to know why, he was only protecting the town from future problems or at least that’s how he justified it to himself.

You weren’t due to open for another hour when you heard someone at your front door banging to be let in, you were covered in flour from making the cafes daily selection and didn’t really want anyone to see you like this but they were so persistent. Wiping your hands on the nearest cloth you peered out of the kitchen and were confused to see Detective Bodecker smiling through the window at you waving to be let in. You opened the door slightly and got a shock when he barged in locking the door behind him “hey sweetheart I’m glad we finally have time for a little talk” looking up at him slightly confused “I’m not open for another hour Detective can you come back then, I’m a little busy right now” turning your back on him and walking back to the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly he follows you standing a little too close and breathing down your neck “i said i wanted to talk” rolling your eyes you look up at him “and i said I’m busy” turning back to the bowl of blueberry muffin batter and adding more cinnamon, you’re about to mix when you see his thick finger dip into your bowl then into his mouth. He moans as he licks his finger clean and smirks as you visibly cringe at the sight “what the fuck! You can’t do that” you shout at him, furious inside as now you have to dump it all and start again. “Relax sweetheart you can make this my batch I’ll pay you for the loss” before dipping his finger again and pushing it into your mouth as you’re about to protest. You pull your head back and slap him across the face “get the fuck out of my cafe now, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You shout, watching as he wipes his finger across your apron and soothes his cheek “you’re feisty, i like it, we’re going to have some fun darling” and with that he turns and walks out leaving you stood in shock unable to understand what just happened.

A week goes by and he hasn’t been back so you put the little incident down to some sort of hazing and try to forget about it but you can’t, you see him all over town and he always seems to be watching you. You’re not sure what it is he thinks he’s going to catch you doing but he’s always there.

The next day you’re in the florists when you see him walk past and wink at you, enraged by his inability to leave you alone you pay for your bouquet and storm out looking for him. Marching down the street you can’t believe this is the first time in a week you haven’t seen his smug face watching you, you relax for a moment before you feel someone grabbing your arm and pulling you into the alleyway.

Your back hits the wall and you want to scream out but his hand is over your mouth before you can “you looking for me sweetheart?” He whispers in your ear, licking the outer shell and managing to dodge your knee as you attempt to introduce it to his balls. “You are trouble, I don’t like trouble in my town, I like an easy ride. I don’t want your shithead of an ex wandering into town and messing things up” your body stiffens at the mention of your ex and Lee noticing this chuckles “you think I don’t know who you are? Who he is?” You bite his hand to get him off you and suck in a deep breath “he doesn’t know where i am, he’s not going to show up here. Is that why you’ve been following me all across town you fucking creep?” Anger flashes across his face and he wraps his fingers around your throat “this is my town and I’ll follow who I like, do you understand?” You roll your eyes and nod your head knowing you aren’t getting out of this alleyway if you don’t “fine, follow me, see if I give a shit. I don’t do anything interesting anyway. If you’ve got nothing better to do than watch me all day so be it” he loosens his grip and takes a step back, admiring your bravery he doesn’t expect the punch to his gut as you pick up your things and walk away. Too winded to follow he watches you turn the corner and slumps down the wall to get his breath back.

The whole town loves your cafe and you feel settled as your regulars make their way in for their usual orders, enjoying the fancy coffee recipes you come up with everyday and clearing out your cakes by lunchtime. You hadn’t seen much of Lee since that day in the alley but you can always sense him nearby. His smell seems to have invaded your life in so many ways.

Closing down for the day you have your back to the door when you feel some hands wrap around your waist “why did you run away baby?”. Your blood runs cold, his voice makes your heart pound and his grip on you hurts probably leaving purple bruises on your sides, you try to pull at his thumbs to weaken his grip but he knows all of your moves now “baby come on didn’t you miss me?” Swinging your head back into his face he stumbles backwards giving you the chance to run for the back door, running through the kitchen you see Lee sitting on your counter eating some of your chocolate and looking smug “he’s here, he’s out there” pulling out his gun he stalks out to the seating area and sees him sat waiting.

“Well, well Ransom Drysdale what brings you out here to our little corner of the world?” Keeping his gun aimed at the man he keeps you behind him, protected, safe. Ransom sizes him up deciding what his next move will be when he stands moving towards them slowly “i don’t want any trouble. I just want my wife to come home with me, you can understand that surely?” Looking around Lee you scream “I’m not going anywhere with you! Now get the fuck out of my place” Ransom stops and stares at you, shaking his head “always so angry with me, come home and let me make you happy I’ll buy you anything you want you know that. Nothing is too much for my baby”. You grab the second gun off Lee’s belt and step out pointing it at Ransoms head “just leave me alone and go back home you don’t want me, you just don’t want people thinking you’re anything other than perfect” that's all it took he strode towards you unsheathing his blade screaming insults at you when you heard a loud bang and felt a warm splash on your face, looking at Lee he licks his lips “he can’t have what’s already mine and i won’t let anyone hurt you” he says walking towards you and catching you as you pass out in his arms.

You wake up in a hospital bed, your throat dry and your head throbbing. Looking around you’re shocked but not surprised to see Lee sitting in the chair next to your bed eating jelly beans and reading the paper “you’re awake” he says a little too loudly for your liking “Lee, what are you doing here. You took care of him I’m not a threat to your little town I’ll be gone before news travels round” he chuckles at you “oh you aren’t going anywhere sweetheart, we have unfinished business” throwing your head back you look up at the ceiling “what is it with men? Why do you all think you can control me?” He leans forward and licks your ear “you like me more than you realise, sweetheart. I’m patient though, I’ll wait” and with that he leaves, turning and winking at you before he exits.

It’s been a week since the incident, the police have cleared your cafe for opening again and quite a few of your regulars have arrived to help you with the cleanup, smiling at them all you unlock the door to let them in but scream when you see Lee sitting drinking a cappuccino at the counter “what the fucking fuck are you doing in here?” Walking up to him and turning him around on the stool “how did you even get in?” He looks you over checking to see if you’re ok “did you not realise this was my building sweetheart? I’ve got the master key I can come and go as I please” you groan loudly and turn to look at the damage, confused when everything seems normal you look back and see the biggest shit eating grin on his face “you're welcome sweetheart” kissing your head and walking out towards the station you watch him dumbfounded before making drinks for all the volunteers.

That was the start of his weird courtship, it never occurred to him that letting himself into the little apartment above your cafe and leaving flowers on your pillow was creepy, or that one time when he had your car towed because he thought he heard a weird noise one day when you came back from the market. It took him three months to ask you out and another two for you to agree but here you are now, wearing lingerie in his favourite colour excitedly waiting for him to come home. You sat on his sofa waiting to hear the jangle of his keys but they never seemed to arrive, you tried his phone but he didn’t answer either so you sat and waited. Next thing you know you’re being shaken awake by a sorry looking man who you haven’t decided is still your boyfriend, he looks you up and down blushing at the soft green lingerie you’re almost wearing “is this all for me sweetheart?” You scowl at him, angry that he’s almost three hours late and couldn’t send a quick text to tell you he’d be back when he could.

Running his hand down your face you bite the pad of his finger in warning “it was all yours hours ago, now I’m not so sure” sitting up and shifting away from him you try not to smile when he gets on his hands and knees and crawls to you for forgiveness. “I’m sorry there was a case, some kid we’ve been tracking for a while showed his face and I needed to go and see him”. You still won’t look at him so he kisses and nibbles up your leg the way he knows drives you wild his hands moving up your sides and pulling your bra down so he can rub and pinch your nipples relaxing once he hears a gentle moan from you. Kissing higher he licks around your belly button and nips at the flesh “you gonna finally let me fuck a kid into here baby? I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my son” grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up to your face “oh yeah and what if it's a girl?” You challenge him, going soft when he replies “even better, two of you to love for the rest of my life”. You pull him closer to you kissing him deeply, your tongue tickling the roof of his mouth making him jerk his hips forward before you pull back “you still have some making up to do” he smiles and pulls the tiny scrap of material covering your wet folds to one side before licking and nibbling at you like he’s a starving man. Your hands grip at his hair, his shirt, anything that will keep him exactly where he is, he knows exactly what you like making sure to spend as much of his time showing you as he can. He sucks on your clit, his warm mouth covering it before he flicks his tongue over it making you scream out his name, he could cum just from hearing you but tonight he’s going to give you all of him, it’s time.

He quickly strips as you come down from your high kissing your neck and jaw before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. You lay down watching him stare at you, you’ve never felt more loved than you do when he looks at you like this he always looks so grateful that you’re with him, he doesn't realise how much you love him. You hold your hand out and pull him down to you giggling when he almost falls, laying next to you he plays with your breasts “i can’t wait until these are full of milk for our baby” moving his hand down lower and rubbing your belly “until this is swollen and I have to care for you” his fingers move down lower, very slowly rubbing soft circles on your clit “fuck Lee, i need you” you whine, he leans down licking and nibbling on your nipple “you gonna let me do it? You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”. You grind your hips up trying to get more friction “please, fuck please” licking your ear “please what sweetheart?”

Not able to take anymore you grab him and push him down on the bed sinking down on his length, moaning at the stretch before leaning forward and kissing him. He grabs your hips and bounces you up and down, groaning loud at how tight you are. He needs you to come quickly or he’s not going to make it. His finger rubs at your clit pushing you over the edge squeezing his cock tight he cums hard, decorating your walls with his seed. You collapse forward and kiss his face all over, taking your time to appreciate him. He goes to move away but you grip him with your thighs “don't move yet, we have to make sure it all stays inside me don’t we” you smirk at his shocked face before laying on top of him content, already thinking of baby names and picturing the nursery.

#lee bodecker #lee bodeckerxreader #sebastian stan #bucky

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amintyworld · 3 years

Text

The Pig Led to Slaughter - Drabble for Griffin's Blog (Part One)

A/N: Hey guys so @griffintail does ask collabs with Lemon Anon on their blog. Their latest story (collab 6) didn't have enough angst so I decided to make some. This is the result. You should check out their collab for context since it is an AU of sorts. Don't want to? Here's the summary: Pirate Captain Dad! Technoblade with SBI+Fundy, Y/N Style. Hold on to your bootstraps, we're just getting started. >:) - Minty

TW: Suspicion, mention of murder, lying, mention of getting arrested, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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It was early in the morning, the sun just peeking over the town’s buildings, that a loud knock awoke the blonde light-sleeper. Startled, he’d nearly fallen out of his own bed, muttering a few curses to himself. Untangling himself from the sheets, he stumbled out of his room. Three more knocks sounded from the door. Briefly, he was relieved seeing Y/N curled up in her bed with Tommy, fast asleep. At the very least, they didn’t get woken up.

Another three knocks - what could possibly be so urgent at this hour?

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” He grumbled as he descended the stairs, moving across the house toward the front door. Pulling the robe a bit more over himself, he begrudgingly opened the door. Still gaining his bearings from being abruptly awoken, it took the older man a minute or two for his brain to process the royal blue uniforms.

Navy. Shit.

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, that fact certainly slapped the older man into reality. Two officers, swords at their hips, looked at him sternly, almost as if they were sizing up how much of a threat he was. “Good morning, officers. How may I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mr. Craft. There was a recent attack at sea…” The Naval Officer’s gaze slightly peers beside Phil into the house, almost as if looking for something. “Could we ask you a few questions?”

Despite how uncomfortable these two made him feel, Phil knew he couldn’t exactly turn them away. If he did, they’d just come back with more officers and take him to jail. No, he couldn’t risk it - he had Y/N to think about now. Technoblade trusted him with looking out for his daughter. It’s not as if he could simply pick up and move like he used to. Besides, they couldn’t have figured out any incriminating details about him… could they? He willed himself to calm as he opened up the door further. “Of course, come in gentlemen.”

The two soldiers scanned the room, moving through it, looking at every detail. Phil gained a little confidence as he slowly realized something - they don’t even know what they’re looking for. They're being too obvious about it, they wanted him to give them hints, reactions, anything. But sadly for them, he was smarter than that. A small smile appeared on his face as he moved to light a candle.

“I’m sorry for the state of things, I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“No worries sir.” An officer dismissed with a small smile as Phil turned around, candle holder in hand. Phil moved over toward the couch, placing the candle holder on the table for a bit of light in the dark room.

“We can talk over here - can I offer either of you anything to drink? Coffee, tea...?”

The other Naval Officer, who was previously looking at the mirror with a vase of flowers in front of it in the doorway, spoke: “We’re fine. It’ll only take a few moments of your time, at most.”

“Of course.” Phil agreed, settling on one end of the couch. “You said there was an attack?”

The more friendly officer agreed. “Yes, a few days ago last I heard. A band of pirates attacked a cargo ship carrying the Kingdom’s trade. The captain hasn’t been much of a threat before, but since it was the property of the crown the King wants him captured. His name was Technoblade, I believe?”

“Technoblade…” Phil murmured to himself, acting confused. “What a strange name indeed.”

“He’s known to frequent this town for supplies, a few sources say you’ve interacted?”

“Well, I’m quite the merchant myself, I’m not entirely surprised - Though I can’t confirm for sure.”

“How so, Mr. Craft?”

Phil nervously laughed. “I’m afraid to tell you, gentlemen, that I seem to have misplaced my logbook. I’m planning on seeing the bookmaker on that in a few day’s time, however. My apologies.”

“No need, perhaps you can recognize him from the picture?” The other piped up, unfolding a piece of parchment to reveal a drawn sketch of his son. It was pretty accurate. Scarily so. It captured the fire-like determination in his son’s eyes that never extinguished. The scars were all in the correct places, even one close to his eye that Phil recalled he fretted over when Techno had arrived home at last, claiming that the blow could’ve blinded him.

Phil tensed slightly, and the more aggressive naval officer’s eyes flicked up to his. They bore into him. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Craft?”

Keep calm. Don’t give anything away. They need you.

Wilbur needs you. Fundy needs you. Tommy needs you. Y/N needs you.

Technoblade needs you.

“Pardon me, officers - just… lifelike, that’s all.” Phil put on his best smile. “Nearly gave me a fright.” He laughed a bit, and the officer holding the poster gave him a warm smile.

“No worries, sir. Just take a good look for a second - do you recognize this man?”

‘WANTED’ was sprawled across the top. ‘Armed and Dangerous’ is written at the bottom. Oh, and there was the reward for catching him. Phil saw so many zeroes he didn’t know whether to be proud or disgusted. After all, Phil couldn’t count the number of times, in the beginning, he’d told Techno how dangerous this business was, the number of pirates who got caught and put in prison or were victims of the gallows. He told him it was risky, he told him he could die.

But, he guessed, Technoblade always lived life to the fullest, a bit more on edge than others ever dreamed they would. It was a part of him Phil could never change. It was a part of him Phil loved. So, even though he wanted him to be safe, who was he to take that adventure-seeking spark in his eyes away? He was happy, after all. But now, reality began to seep in. Reality of Y/N growing up without a father, without her father. Before, Technoblade had nothing to lose.

Now? Now, he had everything to lose.

As the two officers looked to him for an answer, Phil swallowed the knot in his throat. He knew lying to a government official was a traitorous offense. He knew what would happen if they caught wind of the truth. But he and his sons… they were apples from the same tree, he supposed. Risk-takers. Liars.

For Phil… family always came first.

“No… No, I can’t say I’ve seen him.” Phil shook his head slightly. “Though I thank you both for the warning, I’ll definitely be on the lookout for him.”

A yawn sounded from behind him as someone descended the stairs. “Phil…?” Phil’s head snapped over to Tommy, who looked weary at the scene in front of him. The father could feel the officer’s gazes on him from just sitting there. He’d hoped that he could get the officers to leave before Tommy or Y/N woke up. At this point he hoped Tommy could stay as calm as he was, or he could risk undoing all the protection Phil had done to keep them from suspicion. “Phil, what’s…?”

“Oh, Tommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up this early.” Phil stood, noticing Tommy’s stiffened stance at the Navy, moving forward to gently place his hands on his youngest’s shoulders. He turned to the other two with a smile. “My son.” Phil could feel Tommy shaking with anger and fear. He squeezed the teen’s shoulders to help bring him back to reality before he boiled over. “I’m so sorry to put you in such a state when we have guests, I didn’t think it would take this long.” Tommy’s eyes flicked up to his, a silent message. Is this about Techno? Phil gave a slight nod. “Hm, yes I know you must be hungry… go on upstairs and get changed, I’ll try to make you some breakfast in a minute, I promise.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed as he awkwardly looked at the officers, standing down. “Uh… right. Right. I’m sorry… I…” He turned without another word, quickly climbing the stairs.

“Your boy okay?” The naval officer asked, eyeing the staircase.

Phil nervously laughed. “You’ll have to excuse him, he gets nervous around strangers.” He explained. “I really should be getting to making breakfast, is there anything else I can help you both with?”

The other piped up, reassuring. “I don’t believe so, Mr. Craft. We’re deeply sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“No, please…” Phil answered. “This was quite informative.”

“Keep the poster as a reference and notify us if you see him in the area… don’t approach, he’s known to be unstable, sir - talking to himself.”

“I see.” Phil nodded as he led the two to the door. The voices were acting up again… something must’ve happened. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”

They both tipped their hats in respect. “Sir.”

“Sir.” The one behind him repeated. “Have a good day, Mr. Craft. We’ll keep in touch.”

Gods, Phil hoped they wouldn’t.

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General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added/removed):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

#my writing #dream smp drabble #dream smp fic #dream smp au #dream smp #dsmpblr #platonic father technoblade #platonic x reader #dadza philza #philza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #itsfundy #sbi family dynamic #sbi found family #technoblade

61 notes · View notes

necros-writing-stuff · 3 years

Note

But what if PC did manage to save Bailey, Eden, and Whitney? (Maybe they found his gun/knife/etc or somethin) How would he feel waking up in the hospital to them sleeping in a chair nearby? I simp for these 3 and seeing them hurt, hurts me.

Writing angst hurts so bad man, I love when the LI hurts the PC, but when the LI gets hurt or others are added to the equation I want to cry.

Under cut for mentions of violence and length

Bailey

Was working hard all day, half asleep as they make some soup before bed. They take a quick toilet break, not being there to notice someone sneaking in and drugging it.

They're sat in their office, reviewing what they've been up to when you waltz in, pyjamas covering your body.

Let's you come sit in their lap while they finish up, knowing you'll want to stay in their bed due to nightmares you've been having.

They really shouldn't indulge you so much, but they can't really help it.

When your stomach rumbles they let you taste the soup, only for you to spit it straight out.

"That's drugged. Someone tried to give me that when I worked at the stripclub, Bailey, I promise," you turn to them, alert and panicked but they can only smile a little, the haze settling in properly.

Cursing, you run to their bedroom, pulling the handgun out from under the pillow and sitting back in their lap, grabbing for their phone and asking them to unlock it.

Constantly checking their temperature and lucidity as you do so.

It takes a little, but you manage to get it open and go straight to a contact you'd heard them speaking to regularly, asking them to send someone over to guard them and that there was a possibility people might try to break in.

The next morning, Bailey finds you still awake, sat next to their bed with the gun in hand, eyes trained on the door until their shuffling draws you eyes. Looking over Baikey is a private doctor they trust.

"Oh thank fuck, you okay?" You sit next to them, placing the gun down and grasping their cheeks, much to the annoyance of the Doc, who steps back a little.

Confused they'll ask what happened, immediately getting angry and jumping out of bed despite both of you telling them to lay down.

You'll have to convince them to slow down as they spends the rest of the day ordering their people to start asking questions, but ultimately they just let you follow them around worrying all day.

Needs to be working immediately because they don't want to show weakness.

Starts painting the windows shut in the orphanage so it's harder for people to sneak in.

Never ever leaves their food alone again.

Is very impressed you managed to remember the name of the person who works for them, thankful that you were so quick thinking.

Theres no telling who could have drugged them, hospital staff, police, Quinn. Good job on sticking to the inner circle.

When you come home the next day, you find a box on your bed. It's full of new, expensive clothes and you know it's from Bailey. A thank you for looking out for them.

Eden

Panic starts to encompass them as they fall to the ground, surrounded by hunters they'd threatened weeks ago.

Where were you, were you safe? They can hurt them, but not you.

Drifting out of consciousness a little as they hear a gunshot and a scream.

You stand at the door, Eden's forgotten rifle in hand after shooting one of the intruders in the foot. You shoot again, aiming for another when they start to scatter, not anticipating another person to be here, let alone armed.

You're silently thanking Eden for teaching you how to shoot, as you advance down the stairs, shooting into the trees hoping you hit another one of the fuckers you'd seen beating your spouse.

You can still hear them yelling as you run over to Eden's collapsed body, seeing them struggling to open their eyes.

You grab the water bottle they strap to their belt, dripping it over them and lightly slapping at their cheek, looking up and around every few seconds to check noone was sneaking up on you.

It takes a few minutes, but Eden starts being cohesive again, working with you as you get them up and bring them inside, locking the door behind you after ensuring you fetch anything that could be used as a weapon from outside.

You get the salve you made and start treating wounds, gently talking the entire time to remind Eden that it was you, they're safe, it's all okay.

Eden is just glad you aren't hurt, wrapping their arms around your waist and pressing their face into your chest, breathing in your scent.

So clingy for the next little while.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down, what if they'd been here to hurt you-"

"Eden for gods sake I'm alright, let me help you now okay? What if you have a concussion?"

Let's you fiddle with them to help calm you down. They feel fine, just come here.

Wants to cuddle, kissing you every so often.

"We should start building a perimeter tomorrow," they'll suggest, and you agree, eager to give them something that'll bring back their sense of control.

You can tell its hard for Eden, to have been beaten like that. You let them be more controlling for a little while so they can get their confidence back.

"And I'm proud of you. You can really shoot well," they'll mumble into your neck as they drift off, a little unsure of themselves. They aren't really sure how to praise others, how to show affection that isn't physical.

Makes you breakfast and gives you a massage the next day, a silent thank you for saving them.

Might also use their wood-carving skills to carve you a little figurine of you holding the rifle, letting you put it above the hearth to remember your brave moment.

Whitney

The good mood is interrupted, when the teens in tracksuits grab at you, separating you from Whitney and trying to subdue both of you.

You're not sure how many times you see Whitney get hit before you manage to rip your mouth free of whatever keeps it covered, drawing in a full breath as you scream "FIRE!" at the top of your lungs.

You'd read somewhere it was more affective than 'help' or 'rape', and sure enough, some adults run over to the alley and begin yelling at and chasing after the delinquents who run.

You fall to your knees and hold Whitney close as someone calls an ambulance, asking if anyone knows their parents so they can go tell them what happened. No one does, and you can't unlock their phone, so you just stay with them when the ambulance comes, trying to cover them with your body so people couldn't see how badly hurt they were.

With no way to contact the family, you're asked to accompany Whitney to the hospital, staying over night so the police can take a statement about what happened and so that Whit can have someone take them home the next day.

When they wake up, you're resting with your head on the hospital bed, right next to their hand, which they use to pet you till you wake up.

Whitney tries not to cry when you throw yourself over them and tell them how thankful you are that they're okay.

It's been a long time since anyones been so openly concerned. Since anyone has given a shit about how Whitney was doing. Most of the time people just wanted to be friends with them for the social perks.

Leans on you when they walk, limping along. This is after they've spent half an hour stumbling alone on their own, finally giving in and letting you hold them up.

At school, Whitney is a little quieter while they recover. River glances over to them in class, seeing them rest their head on the desk while you play with their hair. They're being quiet, and everyone can see the wounds, so they let you be.

Feels a little lost without you around for a bit, using you as a safety blanket. Walks home alone one night and end up flinching at every shadow.

Never actually says "Thank you." Just gets more and more kind, stops tieing you up on Mer Street, pulls you away from dogs trying to get at you, is slightly more gentle when you fuck.

Might get you a personalised lighter one day. Just in case noone believes you next time you need to yell fire.

#degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity #spill your guts #anonymous

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Best Kept Secrets (Part Two)

Based on this request: “Wanda and the reader are married and the reader mom is Agatha but the reader does not know that…Then Agatha watches the reader having a good time with her family and Agatha is happy but sad because we get another flashback of the reader snapping their finger in order to destroy thanos and his army.”

part one / masterlist

Cameras continue rolling, boom mics lower. Episode begins.

Y/N looks around, at their family gathered nearby. There’s a white and red checked picnic blanket tucked around them, a water bottle sloshing noisily in their lowering grasp. Y/N’s wife, Wanda, is speaking to their two twin sons, Billy and Tommy, who are delighted over a grasshopper they’ve spotted among the emerald stalks beneath their feet. To any unsuspecting passersby, the scene would look perfectly normal, and it should be so, yet there’s still a cloud of unease lingering over Y/N’s face. For a second, Y/N didn’t think they were back at the Westview park but instead in some unfamiliar place.

It had happened just as Y/N was reaching for the water bottle. They had been kneeling, right hand outstretched, and then the scene had shifted around them. The sky had turned an ashy gray, the dew-drenched grass broken up into rubble and debris. Y/N had been kneeling in that same position, hand outstretched, but there was something wrong there, something that had filled them with this strange determined terror…

Y/N is jolted back to reality when their young son, Billy, turns to her with a concerned expression. “Is everything alright? You look too unhappy for a fun picnic.” A gentle smile slips onto Y/N’s face like a well-worn glove. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I was just finishing up my lunch. Speaking of which, it looks like you boys are done eating as well. Is there anything else you’d like to do while we’re here?” Tommy nods excitedly, bounding up from his position on the picnic blanket. “I saw the coolest dragonflies and bugs around us.”

Wanda laughs. “Doesn’t that sound interesting! Here, take these. You can catch us some insects to study.” With a flourish of her hand, Wanda turns two wooden serving spoons into identical butterfly nets, and hands one to each twin. They look at each other in excitement then dart off into the grass, swinging the nets with enthusiasm, if lacking somewhat in coordination. Y/N gives Wanda an amused stare. “What about the spoons?” Wanda waves a hand dismissively. “I can turn them back later. Sure makes packing easier to just change all the cutlery into toys.”

The audience laughs at that, and Y/N grins. “Speaking of which, let’s speed up the packing of the picnic basket.” With a gesture of their hands, all of the plates and utensils fly into the wicker basket in a flurry of purple sparks. Wanda nods appreciatively. “I’m going to have to learn that trick.” Y/N stands up, glancing around her at the paths leading out of the park. “Just curious, did you see Agnes walking around? I could have sworn I saw her just a few minutes ago.” Wanda frowns. “I don’t think so. Are you looking for her?” Y/N glances around one last time, then shrugs. “Not anymore, I guess.”

Billy, having just successfully snared a dragonfly, calls over to Y/N. Y/N walks over, admiring the insect with their son. Billy considers it one last time, then turns over the net and releases it. Y/N watches it go. “That’s a good choice. As much fun as it is to study interesting things, you always have to let them go in the end.” Billy nods sagely. “You know, I finally get why you and Mom work so well together.” Y/N smiles questioningly. “Why is that?” Billy stares out over the park, looking for more winged insects. “She always has so many thoughts in your head, and yours sometimes don’t show up at all. She’s noisy and you’re quiet, and it works out.”

Y/N tilts their head to the side, looking over at Billy. “What do you mean, I’m quiet?” Billy shrugs. “I can’t hear as many of your thoughts. It kind of reminds me of Agnes, actually. She does the same thing.” Y/N’s brow furrows, but they still allow a fond expression to cross their face. “Look at you go, using your powers. I think it’s amazing that you can tell all that already.” Billy beams, glad for the compliment, then races off after a recently sighted butterfly.

Y/N watches him as he chases after it, raising his net high in the air to successfully entangle the butterfly in the woven fabric. Y/N’s smile disappears from their face, however, as they watch the butterfly struggling in the net. As it flutters around, looking for a possible escape, the bright violet of its wings seems to darken, almost vanishing into empty gray. With every flutter of its wings, the purple leaches from the butterfly.

There’s another sight in Y/N’s eyes now. Y/N can still see that electric purple hue circling around something, can still see it trembling and disappearing into nothingness. But the violet isn’t clinging to a butterfly’s wings this time. No, it’s around a hand, Y/N’s hand, and it’s vanishing as Y/N’s heart rate seems to slow, because as the purple fades away so to does she, which means that Y/N is-

Y/N’s eyes widen, dragging them back to reality as Wanda walks up next to them. Wanda frowns at the look on Y/N’s face. “Are you alright? You look worried. I thought Billy specifically requested that you have a good time.” Y/N laughs at the joke. “As much fun as that sounds, it’s a lot easier to change someone else’s emotions than to fix your own.” Wanda makes a face at the camera. “You have no idea.” Laughter ripples down from the audience, and Y/N looks around for a second as if trying to find out its source.

Wanda puts a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, gently steering them back to face her once again. “You are feeling alright, yes? I just want to make sure everything is under control.” Y/N looks back at Wanda, but their expression is still tinged with unease. “It always is with you around, isn’t it?”

Cameras cut to B-Roll footage. Screen fades to black, but shortly opens on a new scene- Wanda and Y/N’s bedroom.

Y/N lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Beside them, Wanda sleeps peacefully, but Y/N seems unable to share in her quiet rest. Y/N closes her eyes, as if considering something, then slips silently from the blankets and out of bed. Wanda starts to stir, but then Y/N flicks her hands towards the cameras, and they turn away, shut down. Wanda returns back to her deep sleep, no longer concerned.

Cameras are unresponsive. Scene cuts to black.

Y/N quickly dons a pair of comfortable clothes before heading out of the house and down the block. They can still hear Billy’s voice echoing in the recesses of their head- I can’t hear that many of your thoughts. It kind of reminds me of Agnes, actually. She does the same thing. Y/N knows why Billy can’t hear their mind, it’s because of Y/N’s magic, but why would Agnes have the same ability?

After a couple of quiet knocks, Agnes’ front door opens. Agnes looks startled to see Y/N standing there, and hurriedly gestures for them to come inside, quickly shutting the door behind them. “Not that I don’t love spending time with my closest of friends, but can I get a reason for this late-night visit?” Agnes glances around her, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry about the cameras- I shut them off. Nobody can see us right now.” Agnes’ head jerks up. “You know about the cameras?” Y/N inclines their head. “Only every now and then. I think I lose my memory of them sometimes because certain people want me to forget.”

Agnes nods in agreement, then a sudden movement outside in the street catches her eye. Agnes turns her head slowly to face the window and curses softly when she sees a figure moving down the street. Y/N follows her gaze. “Why is the mailman out doing his route? It’s the middle of the night.” Agnes grimaces. “Wanda must have sent him out to see where you were. Even unconsciously, she can still tell that you’re looking into things that you’re not supposed to know about.”

The mailman is almost at their window when Agnes’ hand moves almost imperceptibly, and the man looks the other way, avoiding Agnes’ house completely. Y/N’s eyes dart to Agnes’ hand, at the brief flash of indigo electricity that had danced around her fingers. “You have the same magic as I do. How is that possible?” Agnes faces Y/N with a look like a caged animal. “Why did you call me Agatha on our last visit?” She counters, and Y/N sighs. “I don’t know. It just came into my head. Now tell me- do you really have the same powers as I do?”

Agatha- for it is truly Agatha now- holds up a hand, allowing the purple sparks to flicker between her fingers. “It’s less of a power and more of a learned ability.” Y/N’s brow furrows as they consider this, and then their eyes widen. “I’ve never seen anyone with that same ability, and I shouldn’t ever, unless-” They break off, staring at Agatha. “I thought my mother abandoned me long ago. I thought she was dead. But she’s not, is she? She’s you.” Agatha nods once, and Y/N looks overwhelmed.

“You’ve known all along. You knew that I was your child and you never once looked for me? You could have told me when I first arrived. You could have never left me at all. Why do it then, for fun? Because you were sick of me, even though I was too small to know what you were doing?” Agatha winces like she’s been slapped. “I didn’t want to leave you! I had a coven, a coven with strict rules, and they made me give you up. I didn’t know who you were until a week or so ago when you arrived here, I swear it. I would have found you long ago had I known.”

Y/N’s breathing is harsh in their chest. “Do you mean it? You would have stayed with me?” Agatha nods. “Leaving you was one of my worst regrets. It haunted me every day.” Y/N stands there, as if in a trance, then rushes over, flinging their arms around their mother. Agatha seems frozen in place, then slowly wraps her arms around her child to return the embrace. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen.” Y/N nods. “I know. It’s alright now.”

Cameras return with a shower of ruby sparks. Scene opens in the Maximoff-L/N family kitchen.

Tommy is standing alone at the kitchen table, fixing himself a peanut butter sandwich. His brother is off in his room, trying to teach himself a new card trick he’d seen their Uncle Pietro do once. Y/N walks into the kitchen, and glances over at their son. “How’s the sandwich?” Tommy nods, his face a mask of complete concentration. “I have to get it just right. The perfect sandwich is key to the perfect day.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “I can understand that. How do you know it’s perfect?”

Tommy carefully smears a last dollop of peanut butter onto his sandwich, reverently placing the two pieces of bread together. “I just know. With the right toastiness of the bread, and the crunchy peanut butter, perfectness was practically inevitable.” He snaps his fingers in satisfaction. Y/N flinches, staring at Tommy’s hand. Inevitable. The snap. Wait-

Another hand is snapping its fingers, another hand clad in a large golden glove. No, it was not a glove but a gauntlet. It’s not Y/N’s hand this time, it’s someone else’s, and someone else’s voice declaring that they were inevitable. And then there’s a voice coming from behind the figure, who whirls around in outrage, and it must be Y/N’s voice speaking now. Y/N replies, but most importantly they snap their fingers as well, the cloud of purple magic over their hand lit up by six gems spangled into the gauntlet on their own hand, and-

Wanda walks into the room again, forcing Y/N to return to the present moment. Wanda takes in the sight of Y/N, about to head through the door. “Where are you heading in such a rush?” She asks. “I was heading to Agnes’, actually.” Y/N says, and Wanda frowns. “Why do you keep bringing up Agnes? First at the picnic, then again here. I mean, she’s just our neighbour, right?” Y/N glances over at her. “Does it really matter? I just want to see her.” Y/N starts to turn away towards the door, but Wanda reaches out an arm to block their path. “Actually, I was thinking we should have a talk. Let’s go into the other room.”

Wanda’s hand is enclosed around Y/N’s wrist, practically dragging them away into a spare bedroom. Once the door is shut behind them, Y/N snatches their hand back from Wanda’s grip. “What’s gotten into you?” Wanda scowls. “What’s gotten into me? Y/N, you’ve been acting very strangely the last couple of days. I think you need to relax.” The word seems charged with some sort of energy, and Y/N takes a step back, as if to avoid it. “Are you trying to mind control me?”

Wanda’s lips tighten. “Why would I do that?” She says, forcing a laugh. Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Well, of all the ways to deny mind control, I have to say that was the least convincing.” Wanda folds her arms across her chest. “You sound paranoid. Why would I want to control your mind?” Y/N starts to pace back and forth across the room. “That’s the problem- I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things, actually.” Y/N stops walking, and faces Wanda again. “I can’t remember anything about my life before we got to Westview. I know about my powers, and I know about you, but that’s it. Why is everything else a blank?”

Wanda frowns. “Aren’t I enough for you?” Y/N sighs. “You’re more than enough, Wanda, which is why it hadn’t occurred to me before now. I just keep feeling like something is wrong, and I need to wake up and figure out what it is, but every time I try I feel like you’re always there to stop me from remembering.” Wanda’s concerned expression shifts into a colder stare. “Don’t try to make me the villain. I will always care about you most of all, before anyone.” Y/N can’t return her gaze. “I wish I could believe that, but I keep starting to remember things. I think something happened to me, but I can’t remember what it was. You won’t let me remember what it was.”

Wanda’s eyes flash with ice. “I will do what I want. I’m doing everything to protect you, and I don’t know why you can’t be content with that.” Y/N’s face hardens. “I can’t trust you anymore, Wanda. You won’t let me.” Y/N strides to the door, throws it open. “I’d come up with one last snappy comeback for the show, but I suppose you’re in charge of all the scenes, aren’t you?” With that, Y/N storms away, leaving Wanda standing there in shocked anger.

Cameras focus on Wanda, who is reassuring the twins that everything is fine. Cameras do not pick up Y/N L/N, who is moving quickly towards the barriers of the town.

Y/N’s blood is pumping through their veins, surges of adrenaline making their eyes glow violet with power. There’s something on the tip of their tongue, a discovery that needs to be made. So, Y/N heads for the edge of town, towards the street where they first arrived in Westview. As they approach the city limits, Y/N’s head tilts up in awe. There’s a line designating the edge of town, and beyond that, a tall barrier glistening with magic. No other human would have been able to see it, but the magic of centuries of witches run through Y/N, and their eyes can pick up details that no one else can see.

Y/N comes to a stop in front of the town boundary, and reaches out a hand. Where their fingers touch the barrier, scarlet light is replaced by indigo. With a movement of their hands, Y/N draws aside the barrier as if it were a curtain, the light changing into purple wherever she walks. Through the boundary, Y/N can see the town beyond, but it lacks the charming simplicity of Westview- instead, there are armored vehicles and encampments, all of them military. Scores of soldiers stand guard, watching her approach. Just as Y/N fully steps through the boundary, however, they collapse to the ground.

Pain swirls around Y/N like a storm. As Y/N watches, fragments of their very being begin to drift away. It’s as if Y/N is being eroded by time itself, a statue being carried away to dust and rubble in the span of seconds. There’s a shout from across the encampment, and a woman with dark hair runs up to her. The woman - Darcy, Y/N can read her mind - is restrained by guards, but in a weakened gesture Y/N uses her abilities to pull the soldiers away from her. Darcy sprints up to Y/N, but she seems unable to save them. Y/N croaks out a question. “What happened to me?” Tears fill Darcy’s eyes. “You died in the battle against Thanos. You sacrificed yourself to save all of us.” As Y/N hears Darcy’s words, a sense of clarity seems to enter them, and Y/N’s eyes clear at last, even as her body breaks down into shards of pure magical energy.

Cameras stay on the Maximoff-L/N home, where Wanda and Agnes sit with the twins. Recordings do not pick up the incident currently occurring on the Westview boundary.

Billy turns to his mother suddenly. “Mom, something’s wrong with Y/N. I can hear their thoughts in my head.” Wanda looks up at him. “What do you mean?” Billy looks terrified. “Y/N’s in pain, so much pain. I can hear them screaming. Mom, I think Y/N is about to die.” Wanda and Agnes both rise at the same time, expressions of terror mirroring each other. Agnes murmurs something about having to go, and she quickly disappears out the door while Wanda does her best to locate her spouse. Wanda flings out her arms, eyes flashing scarlet with the magnitude of the power she is about to use. Around Westview, the boundary begins to expand.

As soon as Agatha closes the front door behind her, she instantly vanishes, appearing in the space near the boundary. She stares with an open mouth as the barrier surrounding the town glows an angry crimson, and glides forward across the ground. After a second, the boundary leaves behind a single body, lying alone in the grass. Agatha runs to it, and has to choke back a scream at the sight of her child.

Y/N should have healed. They should have started healing, they should not be in this much disrepair. Y/N is lying crumpled on the ground, watching their body begin to disintegrate away. Agatha kneels over her child. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you getting better?” Y/N smiles up at her. “The power of the Infinity Stones cannot be undone forever. I was called to die long ago, and Wanda can’t reform me for much longer.” Agatha shakes her head, tears starting to course down her cheeks. “I’m not ready to let you go. Not yet. I just found you.”

Y/N’s eyes glow with warmth, and they place a trembling hand on Agatha’s cheek. “We were never supposed to meet, so any hour together was already on borrowed time. I’m grateful to have this much.” Y/N’s head tilts to the side, as if listening to an approaching sound. “Wanda is coming. You’ll have to go before she gets here, because she doesn’t know who you really are.” Agatha is shaking her head in refusal. “I can’t leave you here. I can’t let you die.” Y/N’s hand clasps onto Agatha’s, gripping it tightly. “None of us can really die, not forever. I’ll stick around, even if it’s on the other side. Now go, before it’s too late.” Agatha takes in one last look at her child, then vanishes into the empty air, just as Wanda bursts into view on Y/N’s other side.

Wanda falls to the ground beside Y/N. “I didn’t want this to happen. I should have told you everything. Y/N, you-” Y/N cuts her off gently. “It’s alright, Wanda. I know. I died at the battle against Thanos, and I would like nothing more than to be able to come back and stay here with you, but life has a way of not always following through.” For a second, the dying Avenger thinks it’s raining, until Y/N realizes that it’s just Wanda’s tears falling onto their cheeks.

Wanda forces back a sob as she watches Y/N’s body begin to dissolve away. “What do I tell the boys when you don’t return? How are we supposed to keep going?” Y/N smiles at her, pure and lacking in the bittersweet tinge that had always tainted it before. “The boys will have you, and that’s all any of us needed. You’re the one that will always matter, Wanda, even after I’m gone. I knew that when I met you, and I’ll know it even after I close my eyes.”

Wanda leans over, presses her forehead to Y/N’s. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” Y/N laughs, the sound slightly tinny as their chest turns to ash. “I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” Wanda closes her eyes and kisses Y/N softly. When she opens her eyes again, she is kneeling alone in the middle of a grassy field. Y/N has finally been laid to rest.

Cameras begin to refocus on the Maximoff-L/N home, but there’s a flash of scarlet and they turn off, disappearing into the night. They are no longer necessary. Wanda leaves the studio, tears still drying on her cheeks. It is time to rebuild.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #wandavision imagine #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagines #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Doll Me Up (P.1)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,322 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

There were three voicemails when you turned your phone back on in the airport terminal.

Voicemail, 12:22am

“Y/N, I swear to GOD if you don’t answer your fucking phone the second you land, I’m going to make sure you don’t walk right for a fucking week when I get you back in my hands!”

Voicemail, 12:57am

“I am tempted to leave you stranded without any fucking money! How the fuck would you like that? Having to call me to come bail you the fuck out? I’ll make you get on your goddamn knees and beg. Call. Me.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you snickered.

Tony would never though; you found it impossible. He could not stand the thought of you not having money to shield yourself from the world if he was not there. You needed to be inside, pampered.

You snorted before listening to the next message.

Voicemail, 1:27am

“When I find out where you’ve gone, you bet your ass I’m going to be right on the plane there and you’re not going to like it when I find you! Do you understand me! So, make this easier on yourself and call me back!”

You took the opportunity to text him back.

Y/N, 3:29am

Don’t waste your time or jet fuel. Just leave me alone for a bit. God.

You dialed your friend Xavier, it going to voicemail the first time. Annoyed, you called him again, taking note it was after 3:30am. On the fourth attempt, he answered.

“What the hell do you want, Y/N? If you’re drunk and woke me up—”

Brightly, you told him, “Come get me.”

There was a moment’s pause, before he asked perplexed, “What?”

“I’m at SeaTac.”

“The hell do you mean you’re at SeaTac?”

“I flew here,” you told him nonchalantly as you could. “On a whim. And I don’t want to take an Uber alone. I’ll give you gas money! Promise.”

“Where… what?” He was groggy still.

“I’ll stay at your place for a couple nights?”

He was quiet again for a few moments before asking, “You don’t wanna get a hotel room…?”

“Of course you want to do that.”

“Bitch, I live in a studio. Why would I not want to take advantage of some more space?”

“Point taken. But ugh, hurry!” You whined, leaning against the wall. “I’m in really tall heels and I don’t have a coat. I’m cold.”

“Are you outside?”

“No, in the aiport. The dress is just really short.”

Xavier snorted at this. “Of course it is. Where’s Tony?”

“At home. We got into a fight,” you told him shortly.

“So, you flew here…?”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna go home and see his stupid face. So, I came here. Straight from the party really. Hold on, let me check hotels in the area.” You pulled your phone down to google and scroll through options. “Ugh, I don’t wanna be downtown though. But that’s where all the nice hotels are at… Oh, this place has a renaissance Brad Pitt photo on a pillow.”

“Please. Get that. Just on principal.”

“Okay but this other place has a better bathroom set up.”

“Is that really important?”

“Yes, I want a relaxing bath. And it has a great view of the sound. There’s two-bedroom suites that don’t require extended stays. But, love, I don’t want to sleep alone… and I trust you for that.”

Xavier chortled, “Scout’s honor. Your pussy does not interest me in the slightest. What’s the name then?”

“Thompson. Get here!”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Xavier told you and you heard shuffling in the background of the call.

You added before he could hang up, “And bring your phone charger. And some sweats and a shirt. I meant it when I said I left directly from the party. All I’ve got is my purse.”

“You are ridiculous,” Xavier laughed. “It’s going to take me at least a half hour. Don’t let your phone die!”

Tony was calling again, and you sighed annoyed, sending him to voicemail. By now he would know your phone as at least back on and know you sent him to voicemail yet again.

Y/N, 3:41am

My phone is getting low and I need it to contact a hotel so I’m not going to answer.

Your anger was beginning to subside, but you were not ready to give in just yet.

Dialing the hotel, you waited for the front desk to answer. “Yes, I would like to set up a two-bedroom suite if there are any available? There are? Perfect. Oh, right now, please. I’ve just landed at the airport. Yes, yes of course. My card number is….”

Tony would not even have to call the credit card company at this rate with this new charge showing up.

<><><>

Two years ago…

“Are you sure that’s what you want me to do, Y/N? I could really mark you up that way,” Tony purred.

You peered over your shoulder, giving him a pleading look. You had just asked him to hit you again, wanting him to get your ass good and red before he fucked you unbridled. The clincher was that he had a nine tails he was spanking you with. He had dipped into spanking the first time he had taken you and you would be lying if you said you did not like it. You had been interested in the powerful man and had seen him take girls from the service before. When he had shown up last time, you had made sure to be in his sights and he had taken the bite. Figuratively and literally. He had left some nice little marks along your shoulder and atop your breasts that had eventually faded. You wanted more and it seemed he did too.

“Yes, please,” you said coyly.

“If you keep sounding that cute, I am not going to be able to help myself.”

You stuck out your bottom lip and he gave a throat chuckle before swinging his arm back and landing another blow across your cheeks. You made a strangled noise, jolting forward with the hit. Tony’s fingers came to your ass, dipping between your thighs.

“You like me marking you up?” he asked, his fingers playing. You nodded again. “Bite marks and all?” Another nod and he had had enough foreplay.

Tony groaned salaciously, his fingers leaving your sex and coming to tear your dress down off your breasts. The bra was gone next, your breasts bouncing free. Your dress was stuck around your middle, leaving your bottom and top half exposed.

You whimpered, feeling empty.

“Aww, princess,” Tony mockingly cooed. “Do you want me to fix it?”

You breathed, “Yes, sir.”

His cock pressed against your entrance. “I have such a desire for you… to inhale every part of you.”

“I want you to, sir.”

Tony chuckled against your neck before nipping, causing you to whimper at the pinch. “I know, princess. And that’s what I crave. I’m just simply obsessed with you, kitten.”

<><><>

You woke up to tapping on your face.

Xavier chortled when you startled awake. “Hello, darling,” he crooned.

You slapped his hand away, “Jesus, you creep. Couldn’t you have just gotten out of bed quietly and ordered breakfast?”

“Oh, I did that,” Xavier told you and you scowled, grabbing the blanket to try to yank it over your head. “But I also ordered you some blueberry pancakes!”

At the mention of them, you stilled. Muttering angrily, you threw the blanket back and grabbed your phone, checking the time. It was only 9:30am. You had only been asleep for a few hours at best. When Xavier had picked you up, you had turned your phone back on airplane mode to prevent seeing whatever texts Tony was going to be sending and any calls. You switched it off and surprisingly saw there was only one text from him. He had tried to call a couple of times but he had not left any more voicemails. He was probably testing to see if your phone was back on or not.

Tony, 4:42am

I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish from this other than pissing me off.

You sighed as you got out of bed, padding to the bathroom, taking your phone with you.

Xavier called from the bed, “They said less than a half hour!”

“Noted,” you returned coming to the tub and turning it on. You placed your phone on the counter and began getting undressed.

Kicking your feet up, you relaxed back into the tub. It was so warm, and you settled back in further, a smile coming across your face. There was nothing a hot bath could not soothe. You had been bruised up on your ass too many times to not know that.

Your phone rang and you groaned, knowing who it was. You sunk beneath the water, holding your breath. You could not even have one damn bath…

Footsteps echoed into the bathroom and you opened your eyes seeing Xavier peering at your phone on the counter.

You were out of the water in a second, telling him before your ears had even cleared, “Xavier, don’t—”

He had already pressed answer and held the phone up to his ear much to your horror. You could only hear his side of the conversation.

“Hello? Who’s this? Oh, you must be Tony. A friend.”

“Xavier!” you hissed. “Hang the fuck up!”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think you can talk to her. She’s busy.” Xavier paused and then shrugged as if Tony could see him. “I don’t know. She handed me the phone and she left when she saw it was you calling.”

You mouthed, “Too much!”

Xavier ignored you. “I told you she left. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Are you deaf? I already told you that.”

You were leaning halfway out of the tub damn near at this point, your hands gripping the side of the tub. “Too. Much!” you hissed at him.

“Again, I told you. She left. Don’t know where. She was wearing something pretty skimpy though.”

You were crawling out of the bath by this point and Xavier took a few steps back, a playful smile on his face. He had no idea what he was doing. And it was your damn fault by not explaining anything about who Tony was to him before this. All he knew of Tony was that he was a billionaire and your husband. He did not know his mafia ties or the nature of your relationship with him.

“Hmm, apparently I’ve overstayed my welcome. Anyways, if you want to have this convo again, let me know!” Xavier said into the phone, speaking louder with every word practically. As if Tony was trying to yell over him and Xavier was ignoring him. “Bye now!”

A pet peeve of Tony’s was being spoken over. Another was having someone else play with his toy, which was no doubt the thought going through his mind right now because he had no idea who Xavier was. Great.

“Xavier!” you exploded, standing in front of him naked, water dripping onto the floor.

“Yes? And can you put a towel on?” he asked as he placed your phone down on the counter.

You exclaimed, “That was too much! Why didn’t you listen to me and hang up the phone?” You really were worried.

He was unperturbed by your outburst though, shrugging as you snatched a towel and wrapped it around yourself. “As you told me multiple times! And cause it was funny.”

“Do you know what he would do to you if he knew who you were? No one talks to him like that!” You added for good measure. “Especially when it comes to me.”

“Well, he hasn’t let you see me in over a year!” Xavier pouted. You exhaled sharply. It was true… you only traveled when Tony permitted it. You had not been back home in such a long time. “He deprived me of you. He deserved being left behind. Didn’t you say so?”

“That I did. But next time, let me answer,” you poked him roughly on the nose. To give some insight into your relationship, you told him, “Daddy likes hearing my voice, especially when he’s in the state he’s in. Do you understand me?”

“’Daddy’?” Xavier asked, looking put off.

“Yes, he’s quite good at keeping me in line.” Xavier cocked an eyebrow and then burst out laughing. You shrugged, “Most of the time. I’m usually well behaved for him. He just made me mad.”

“I’m getting some very… dom/sub vibes here.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm, that does shed some light on why you’re so mad about that call then.”

“Yeah, you fuck!” you told him, slapping his arm.

“Well, you’ll just get some spankings.”

“I hope that’s the only thing that happens, you dick,” you snapped, seriously.

“Maybe some orgasm denial for his little… babygirl? Princess?” Xavier grinned broadly when he saw your eyes widen at the name. You slapped his arm again, harder this time, and he laughed, pulling away from you. “Is that what he calls you?”

You huffed as you got back into the tub and admitted, “Maybe.” You leveled him with a glare and said, “I’m serious though. Don’t answer the phone again. He’s already mad at me.”

<><><>

Tony had cracked his phone protector with how hard he had slammed it down on the counter after that little prick – whoever he was – had hung up on him. A million, jealous thoughts were running through his mind. Y/N was off with some other man up in Seattle – he had seen the hotel pending charge this morning when he had woken up from his short sleeping stint. She was pregnant with his goddamn kid for fucks sake, and she had the audacity to sleep with someone else.

That was something he could not abide. This was too far.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #mob!tony stark #dark tony stark #mob boss tony stark #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

Note

"Don't do that" + Hyde and Donna friendship! Also you don't have to follow this prompt but I imagined Donna catching Hyde before he cheats on Jackie with the nurse and he tells her and she stops him :)

Donna was walking back to her house when she saw an enraged Hyde leaving through the backdoor. He looked more pissed than she'd ever seen him.

"Hyde, what's with the long face?" Donna asked when they crossed paths.

"Why don't you ask Kelso and Jackie?" He spat at her, walking away from the house. Donna followed him "I was so fucking stupid, should've known better than to date her, she makes guys stupid"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jackie and I are done," Hyde said "That's what I'm talking about. Now stop following me because I need to go do something"

Donna ran and placed herself in front of Hyde, preventing him to walk any further.

"Don't do that" Donna said firmly, making Hyde finally look her in the eye "If you do what you're thinking about, then you and Jackie will be over for good"

"She's been messing around with Kelso behind my back this whole time, we're already over for good" Hyde argued. He turned around to leave, but Donna forcefully grabbed his arm.

"Think about it, Hyde," Donna said "For once, put your stupid rage aside and actually think about how stupid this whole thing is. Kelso has been trying to break you and Jackie up since he found out about you guys. Jackie could've gotten back together with him multiple times, but she didn't because she loves you. Not him, you."

"Yeah, she really looked like she loved me when she was stroking Kelso's hair on your couch," Hyde said bitterly "Let me go, Donna"

"Not if you're going to do something you'll regret later!"

"Let me go, Donna!"

"No!" She said as she dragged him through her backyard "You're not going to do anything, not until you actually know what happened, you dillhole!"

"Donna, I'm gonna hurt you"

"Shut up, Hyde," Donna said, opening the backdoor again and pushing him inside the kitchen "Come here"

"Donna, man, don't make me..."

"Look, Hyde, Jackie would never sleep with Kelso again. She told me that many times" Donna said "You have no idea how many nights I've spent awake because Jackie can't shut up about how much she loves you and how she wants to spend the rest of her life with you. If she's cheating on you with Kelso of all people, then Red is running for the Nobel Peace Prize"

"I've seen them, Donna. Now just let me go, man, please"

"No. You're going to see them again, and this time, you're sticking around to see what's really happening. Jackie makes you happy, Hyde, and I'm not going to let you ruin that. Now shut up or they'll see us" She whispered and grabbed his arm again, gently opening the door to the living room.

They could now clearly see the sight of Kelso and Jackie, and it made Hyde sick. He tensed up, but he knew any attempt to leave with Donna by his side would be futile.

Kelso still had his head on Jackie's shoulders, but his hands were resting on his lap. Jackie was gently stroking his hair and mumbling some words to him, but Hyde didn't bother listening.

Then he saw Kelso moving his hand to rest on top of Jackie's breast, and the rage took over him again. He was about to turn around to leave, but Donna blocked the exit and forced him to watch everything.

"Michael, what the hell are you doing?!" Jackie slapped Kelso's hand, and pushed him away as far from her as she could "I'm with Steven, don't touch me!"

"I need to see if I'm gay or not!" Kelso argued, and Jackie threw a pillow at him

"Michael, you're not gay just because Fez had a weird sex dream about you!" Jackie yelled, throwing another pillow at him

"Don't yell at me, I'm sad!"

"Fez had what?!" Donna asked, not being able to contain her laughter and announcing her and Hyde's presence to the group.

"Nothing!"

"Oh, shut up, Michael! Fez had a dream where Michael was a nurse, and he was giving him a sponge bath, and they had sex!" Jackie said, still looking pissed at Kelso "We had that talk before, Michael! Don't ever touch me like that again!"

"I just figured, you were already comforting me, so..." Kelso tried to explain, but Jackie slapped the back of his head.

"So you assumed I would sleep with you even though I'm dating your best friend? God, you're a moron!" Jackie yelled and went to stand by Donna and Hyde "This is what I get for being nice! I should've listened to my mom! Michael, the next time you're sad, you're crying on Eric's bony shoulders!"

"But... It'll bruise my beautiful face, Jackie!" Kelso argued, and Hyde finally woke up from his stupor and took a threatening step in Kelso's direction.

"Oh, I would run if I were you, Kelso" Donna said with an amused smile, and Kelso dry-swallowed.

"You're dead!" Hyde said, and Kelso opened the front door and started running. He was about to run after Kelso, when he felt a gentle touch on his arm.

"Steven, you can kill Michael later," Jackie said, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Michael is a pig and I'll never be alone with him again"

Hyde glanced at Donna before looking down at Jackie, his shoulders slumping at the weight of his guilt.

He jumped to conclusions, Jackie wasn't cheating on him with Kelso, and if Donna hadn't shown up...

Hyde doesn't want to think about what would happen.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

"I love you" He whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple afterward. He looked at her shocked face and couldn't help but smile a little "Don't say anything right now, wait till I get rid of Donna"

She nodded, and he planted a chaste kiss to her lips before letting her go and walking towards Donna, who was still standing near the kitchen door and had a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Shut up," Hyde said with a small smile "Thanks, man. Really"

"That's what friends are for," Donna said, "You need to think more and do less, Hyde. You could've really screwed up the best thing that ever happened to you"

He sighed "I know that, man. Thank you"

"I'm going," She said, looking at him, the grin still plastered on her face "I need to tell Eric about Fez's dream. You two -- don't defile my couch, my dad and I watch movies there"

"Sure thing, Pinciotti. Thanks again, man"

Donna just waved at them before leaving Jackie and Hyde alone in the room. Jackie was sitting on the couch, with a stunned look on her face, and Hyde sat next to her.

"You really meant it?" She asked, her eyes glassy

He smiled at her and cradled her face in his hands "Yeah man, I meant it. I love you"

"I love you too" She smiled back, and glued her lips on his.

Hyde buried his fingers on her hair and let out a happy sigh. He and Jackie are going to need to talk later -- about his trust issues, about Kelso, about everything. But right now... Right now Hyde could only thank the universe for making Donna show up when she did.

Well, that got very sappy in the end. I can't help myself.

That was a GREAT prompt by the way, so thank you for suggesting it! I hope you liked the ficlet!

#ask #prompt game 2.0 #ficlet #jackie and hyde #jackie x hyde #zenmasters #donna pinciotti #steven hyde #jackie burkhart

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softomi · 3 years

Text

happier

lyric prompt: then only for a minute, I want to change my mind, cause this just don’t feel right to me.

song: Happier (Stripped) by Marshmello and Bastille

pairings: oikawa x reader, osamu x reader

general taglist: @graykageyama

special mentions: @peachysatoru

Thank you for calling Engineering The Mind, please listen to the following options and select the option that applies to you. press one if you are inquiring our Love services, press two if you are inquiring our Mental Health services, press three if you are inquiring our Synaptic Pruning services, please stay on the line for a representative to assist you.

You’ve pressed three, please stay on the line and one of our representatives will be with you shortly.

“Good morning and thank you for choosing our Synaptic Pruning service, could I get your name and date of birth?”

“Actually, I have a question?”

“Yes?”

“If I wanted to erase someone from my memory, am I able to do that?”

“Yes! As long as there is consent from both parties.”

“But can I do it myself?”

“Unfortunately, the procedure requires both parties to consent and participate, the new law states it is considered illegal to synaptically prune another person from your memory without the other party’s consent.”

“Is there a way I can notify the person without personally contacting them?”

“Of course, as long as you know their name, date of birth, and social, then we can reach out to the other party to inform them that you have started the forms for a synaptic pruning procedure and they will have 30 days from the day of their notification to begin their forms.”

“What happens if they reject?”

“If the other party rejects, then unfortunately we cannot move forward with the procedure.”

“Okay. I’d like to start a form and have them be notified.”

“Perfect, let me just quickly get the information of the other party. What is their relationship to you?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Name of the other party?”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

His luggage drags against the airport’s floor, the sunglasses on his face protects against the amount of camera flashes. Oikawa waves to the cameras, waving to fans, momentarily stopping to take in the bustling Japan airport. Home felt so distant for him.

“Is it true you’re here for a procedure?” A reporter is walking alongside him.

Oikawa merely smiles, “No. I’m just here on vacation, I missed Japan so much, the last time I was here I wasn’t able to do many of the things I wanted to. I’d appreciate it if I am treated as any other citizen.”

“There’s rumors that you’re in Japan to possibly be scouted for one of the Japanese teams, care to explain?”

Oikawa stops, staring directly at the camera, “Like I said, I’m here on vacation and on my own dime. I’m here to attend a wedding of a very close friend and have no plans on looking into other teams, but I can assure you, I plan on playing for the Argentinian team for as long as I can.”

“Do you think your previous injury will affect your current position on the Argentinian national team?”

Another reporter manages to squeeze in, “It’s been almost a year since your injury, are you considering retiring your number if your injury doesn’t improve?”

Oikawa laughs. The television screen cuts off. He’s been in Japan for almost a week now, at least that’s all you know of since he had texted you once he had arrived. From what you can gather through social media, he wasn’t in town. He was frolicking through his childhood neighborhood, meeting friends and family who haven’t seen him since the Olympics.

It’s early morning in your home, the sheets hug you with warmth, you’ve been awake for some time and if you were honest, you didn’t think you slept at all. Ever since he’s stepped foot back into the country, you haven’t been able to sleep properly.

The head on your chest stirs and the male’s breathing falls steady back into slumber. His body is entangled with yours, body weight practically all on top of you, and his breathing brings a sense of dread in you for a moment. It feels similar to him.

You lift your arms, holding out your hands in front of you to gaze at the small diamond. It’s tucked between your pinkie and middle finger, it’s bright and beautiful just like he was promising your future with him would be.

He, your current lover; the man you absolutely loved and adored. The man who spent the last five years keeping you sane.

“Osamu.” Your fingers tugged his hair lightly, “It’s time to wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He tightens his grip around your waist, “I just want five more minutes with you.”

Your finger drags along his spine, “You say that every morning.” You slap your palm on his back and he groans, “You have to open the restaurant soon.”

He hums, eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. It’s too early in the morning, “You’re going in for a check up today?”

Your fingers that play with his hair stops, “Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It was your decision, something Osamu had reminded you a hundred times. The decision to try and erase someone from your memory; he always found it to be a hard pill to swallow. But it was something you thought about a million times, it kept you awake at night, and even when you called a few weeks ago to start the process, it felt surreal.

Osamu lifts himself, leaning on his forearm to peer down at you, his beautiful bride to be, “I can still close the shop and come with you.”

He was an absolute sweetheart, “I told you I’ll be fine. And you can’t close the restaurant every time I go to the hospital?”

He brings his lips to meet yours, “Is that a challenge?”

You laugh against his kiss, “Go get ready or else.”

“Or else what?” He straddles your legs, pressing kisses on your neck to your chest. His fingers ride up his shirt you’ve declared yours, pressing his lips along your abdomen, “Good morning.”

“Call me if anything happens.” Osamu presses a chaste kiss to your lips at the doorway, “I like you.”

Your lips are in a grin, “and I like you too.”

The door shuts behind him and you’re left alone with your thoughts. If you were correct, you’d be seeing him again. Oikawa should be meeting you at the hospital. You’ve texted him a reminder. It’s marked as read; he doesn’t bother to respond.

The sound of a buzzer makes you jump, it draws you to the look at the video cam that views the front gates. You’re grinning thinking Osamu has forgotten something, but the smile gets wiped off when it’s him. Oikawa Tooru is standing at the gates of your home.

“What are you doing here?” You speak into the microphone.

Oikawa seems to have discovered the camera, “Can’t visit anymore? I thought we could catch up.”

What reason would there be to catch up? If everything goes smoothly, you’ll be without a thought of him in the next few days. You’re reluctant to let him in, you want to tell him to go away, but you’d have to meet him later any way. The gates buzz open and Oikawa enters the front yard of the home.

It’s exactly the same to him, after all, this was his and your home first. The Oikawa residence. He bought the house without your knowledge, saved up as much of his paychecks could get him.

“May I come in?” Oikawa smiles upon seeing you.

You’re holding the front door, still small as ever, like you were guarding the home with your life, “Yes.” Your voice is tiny, giving him room to enter the house.

Oikawa takes in the smell of the place, still the same, still has your scent and he concludes you’re probably still lighting the same scented candles he liked. He wonders if he should be flattered by the information.

“Do you want something to drink?” You inquire, pulling out a mug to pour yourself water and another mug for whatever Oikawa wanted, “Peach tea?”

It was his favorite; you can remember it as clear as day. He’d drink it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He said it paired nicely with the milk bread and he called it sweet; just like you. You shake the memory as you pour the hot water.

There was nothing but awkwardness between the both of you. You’ve distracted yourself with your morning routine and Oikawa silently sits. If he’s going to fantasize for a second, he’s pretending you’re still his wife. Shamelessly daydreaming like you were his.

“We have to be at the hospital by noon.” You say without looking at him, your head dipping back as you slip the pills into your mouth.

“Sounds good to me.” Oikawa taps his fingers against the dining table.

It brings back memories of dinner with you, on days when he would be able to find a week off practice to see you. You’d eat with him until two in the morning, trying to squeeze in as much time with him as possible before he hopped on a plane back to Argentina, and he would pretend as if he didn’t hear you crying while washing the dishes.

“So how have you been?” Oikawa asks innocently.

You drink the rest of your water, a simple nod of your head, “Fine.” Your gaze falls briefly on his knee, “And you?”

Oikawa instinctively puts a hand over his knee as if that could hide the ache, “Fine too.”

Yet Oikawa and you know, everything was far from fine. It was the same way towards the end of the marriage, communication was blurred, there was too many missed connections, and the only news you’d get of Oikawa was from the sports channels.

“Do you still work at the public library?”

You tilt your head at him, “You mean the university library? When I was doing work study?”

“Oh.” Oikawa rubs the back of his neck, “Guess you’re not”. He’s trying to think why it feels so hard to talk to you again, “How are your parents?”

You freeze and he realizes his mistake. He remembers the arguments, the sadness of the conversations, the way your parents loathed him for proposing so early. Oikawa married you fresh out of high school, he promised you happiness and yet towards the end of the marriage, he shattered your heart.

“They’re great!” You smile, “They really love my fiancé.”

You were purposely trying to hurt him.

“What’s he like?” Oikawa was curious or was he jealous?

“What do you want Tooru?” Your voice is sharp as you set down your mug, “Why are you here?” You know him too well, he doesn’t do things just because; he always has a motive, “Are you here to try and stop me? I want to move on.”

“Then why can’t you do it yourself? Why do you feel like you need to erase me?” Oikawa, he was sad. He had never felt more crushed than when he had received the phone call; you were requesting to remove him from your mind and he’d only accepted to see you again. He wanted you to look him in the face, feel the hurt that he had, “Did you not think of my feelings?”

“No, you didn’t think of mine when you naturalized as an Argentinian citizen.”

It was always the same argument, Oikawa stares at you, it wasn’t that different from years ago. When he blinks, he’s transported to seven years ago. Your eyes red as you looked at him, the fighting was reaching two hours and the bags in Oikawa’s hands signals he’d be leaving for another few month. But this day was different, the fight was wearing you down, especially when you read news of Oikawa becoming a naturalized citizen. Oikawa blinks and he’s back to the sun lit room.

“This isn’t how you move on from a relationship?” Oikawa says, “It takes time.” Time was seven years, since the divorce seven years of broken hearts have passed. Oikawa knows deep down that you still loved him and he knows in his heart that he wants to ask you to run away with him, “You know that this is wrong.”

“But it’s my choice.”

Oikawa’s eyes begin to water, “And you’re making me choose too?” Tears fall from his cheek, “It’s your choice but you’re forcing me to choose also.” His chest becomes heavy, “Please don’t do this.” He openly sobbing in front of you, “I don’t want to stop.” His wail makes your heart clench, “I don’t want to forget what it was like to love you.”

“Tooru.”

“I don’t care.” Oikawa blubbers, “I’m not going to do it.” A pit grows in your stomach, “All I ever did was love you.”

Your eyes glossy, it was like you were going back to the worst nights of your life, “You stopped caring about me.”

“No, I didn’t!” Oikawa stands, “I never stopped. I was doing everything for you!” He was a tearful mess in front of you, “You left me! You abandoned me!”

“You can’t say that when you were halfway across the world!”

“For you!” Oikawa screams, “If you had waited one more year, I could have brought you over.”

You wipe the tears from your face, a sigh on your lips, “Why didn’t you just ask me to go with you in the first place?”

It was always the question that nipped at you. When he was confronted with the opportunity of staying in Japan or joining an Argentinian team, he never hesitated and you waited for him to ask you to go with him; but he left you behind with the house, sending money every two weeks like you were an afterthought.

“It was complicated.” Oikawa’s eyes soften, “I just, I didn’t want you to leave behind your life here. Your friends, your family. You would have had to quit school to come with me, to a place where you didn’t know the language or the place, and with me practicing, you would have no one.”

You shake your head, “No. You were worried about yourself. You made the decision to leave me behind without a second thought because you wanted to focus on volleyball and where has that gotten you; injured.”

Maybe that was why you wanted so badly to erase him from your memories, you still clung to the thoughts of him. Still stayed updated on his life, still worried about his health, still wondering on the what ifs with him. What if you had just left with him? What if you hadn’t gotten married to him? What if you weren’t so hopelessly still in love with him?

“Just let me be happy.” You whisper, “Just let me forget I was ever in love with you.”

The ride to the hospital ached. The cab silent and melancholy. It was only a consultation and yet it already felt like the end of everything. The waiting area didn’t make it any better, the air was thick with tension from other couples. Oikawa’s status had the two of you placed priority and it didn’t take long for a doctor to come into the room.

“I would like to inform you that we use the term ‘erasing memory’ loosely. Our procedure merely detaches you from the other party. You’ll still have the memories, but you won’t feel anything, and you won’t remember them as much as you might today.” The doctor hands you and Oikawa separate forms, “If you both sign the consent forms, we can schedule the procedure as soon as possible.”

The pen in Oikawa’s hands hover over the signature line, he can hear you scribbling against the paper and his heart is shattering. Sloppily, he signs his name on the line.

“Sorry, I forgot to ask.” You look at the doctor, “Is the procedure safe for pregnant women?”

Oikawa’s world crumbles.

“The procedure is set for tomorrow morning.” The receptionist is talking.

You smile, “Perfect, thank you.”

She prints out two different instructions for you and Oikawa to prepare for the procedure. You overlook the instructions, no longer sparing a glance to Oikawa as you walk away.

“Hey.” The voice makes your head snap up. Your fiancé walking towards you.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck, “What are you doing here?”

Osamu presses a kiss to your temple, “I came to pick you up.” He looks over your shoulder, spotting the man he knows too well from various photos, “Hi.” He reaches out to Oikawa, “I’m Miya Osamu.”

Oikawa grips Osamu’s hand, “ Oikawa Tooru. It’s nice to meet you.” Oikawa says bitterly.

Osamu’s hand rests on your hip, in a matter of seconds, he’s leading you away and Oikawa is left to stand all alone.

The night is restless. It’s instructed that you and Oikawa get a good night’s rest, but who can rest soundly the night before a procedure. You sitt on the edge of your bed, your fiancé sleeping soundly, and you stare at the moon. You play with the ring on your finger and a tear lands on the back of your hand. You suck in a heavy breath, trying to quell the sound of sobs.

Oikawa sits knees to his chest on the couch of Iwaizumi’s who was gracious enough to let him stay at his place. The moon is bright, and it shines a spotlight on Oikawa. His eyes are tired, but he stares at the screen of his cell phone, finger swiping continuously through the photo album. Your smiles reflect in his eyes and even when Iwaizumi snags the cell phone from him; Oikawa looks up at him bawling.

Six in the morning, you’re sitting on a hospital bed, Oikawa laid next to you. The silence is deafening.

“I hope you know.” Oikawa whispers, “I’m very happy for you.”

You look at him, taking in what might be the last time you feel love for him, “I love you.”

Oikawa smiles, “No you don’t,” He’s tricking himself, believing that you loathed him, that this was the better option for you, “but I love you too.”

They say, the longer the relationship, the longer the procedure takes. Similarly, the more you loved, the harder it was to subdue the memories. It required patients to stay awake, to go through every little detail, to talk about everything from the beginning to the end.

Your fingers were initially interlocked with his, something to help the anxiousness, or was it to cling to him for a moment.

“I met you when you came to cheer on the volleyball team in high school.” Oikawa stares at the white ceiling, he hears the machinery, the typing of a computer, “You looked so pretty.” The memory becomes hazy.

“He kissed me on the school’s rooftop.” Your lips curved in a smile, “He kept asking me if it was alright.” Your smile slowly falls to a thin line, “I suddenly can’t remember what I said back.”

“It took me a week to find the perfect ring.”

You laugh, “You got impatient, proposed with a paper ring on the school’s rooftop after we snuck into the school after dark.”

It feels empty, your heart feels a weight lifted. Your fingers slowly let go of Oikawa’s. He begins to weep.

“Why are you crying?” You ask.

He sniffles, “Was that the last time you felt happy with me?”

“No.” Your voice soft, “I was always happy when you came home.” There’s another weight off your heart, “You always came in running, always excited to see me. Sometimes, when the front door opens, I think it’s going to be you.” You’re hit with relief.

Four weeks pass in a blur. You honestly don’t remember much of the week after the procedure, but you stare at your loving fiancé. A hearty giggle on your lips as you move to straddle him on the bed. Your palms are squishing his cheeks and Osamu is chuckling. His hand resting on your small baby bump.

“We’re getting married!” You’re kissing him, excitedly jumping on him as though you weren’t knocking the wind out of him.

“Alright.” Osamu sits up, lips stealing your breath away, “by the end of the day, you’ll be Mrs. Miya.”

You laugh into the kiss, “I can’t wait.”

The wedding venue is bustling, everyone is itching to take a picture with the bride and groom. You’re grinning widely at the way Osamu bickers with his brother, the photographer taking photos despite the twins poking at each other.

“May we take a picture with the bride?”

Your smile grows; four men dressed in their best suits approach, “Is this a high school reunion?”

One man lingers briefly behind, your husband presses a hand to the small of your back before leaving. Oikawa takes over the place of your spouse.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Oikawa tilts his head with a beam.

You roll your eyes, “At my own wedding.”

His voice falls to a whisper, “Are you happy?”

Your eyes stare in the direction of your husband and you nod, “Yes.” When you look at Oikawa, there’s a small tug in your heart, it’s tiny enough that it disappears within moments, “Thank you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa #oikawa scenarios #oikawa tooru #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #hq #hq scenarios #hq oikawa

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