#but for real i am sorry that the fic had you texting an ex

[f-imaginings]

Hiya!! I just finished reading chapter 58 and oh my God the contrast of the earlier chapters to the latest breaks my heart at how happy they used to be together... 😭

I JUST REALLY NEED TO ASK I NEED PEACE OF MIND 🙏🏼 do you plan to give them at least an ending where there's no lies between them anymore,no more manipulation,no nothing. Just them? My heart can't take how tragic they are,you have me texting my ex at 2:23 am about this heavy feeling in my heart is the same feeling I felt when we broke up 😭 it's genuinely so funny how I deeply relate to your writings, seriously I cried in that chapter where Bill kept screaming that it hurts - where the last bricks were being unbinded. I've never felt so much emotion in a fanfic and it's 2:27 am as I'm writing this hfhgjfnhfghh,it's so mind boggling how much has changed between them. I personally love how you wrote them,the ones where you wrote in accordance with the show- I feel ever more sympathetic after reading your fics about them,I just want the triangle and the scientist to be happy again 😭

Oh no! I'm sorry this had you doing the late night text to an ex!!

A lot of people are begging for a happy ending for this fic, so I am going to write a spin off fic about all the potential crossroads where this could happen for them.

My plan for the ending has been set in stone for a while though, and while it will be open ended with an optimistic sort of vibe, more shit will be going down 👀 we still have weirdmaggedon to look forward to, as this fic was always meant to be a way to examine their dynamic in the show. I have things I want to say with this story, and I think people have been enjoying it so much because they are interested in what the fic says about the pairing, and the wider world and the characters world views.

I have no doubt with the new wave of Billford fans there will be a surplus of happy ending fluff fics being written about the pairing as is inevitable when a fandom pairing becomes popular.

My goal with the fic was never for it to just be a popular people pleaser but instead for it to change the brain chemistry of ppl who look at the pairing lmao and be this sort of mirror through which ppl can understand the characters and themselves better. I had a fic that did that for me once and I always look fondly on it for how it changed my life for the better and it definitely didn't spare my emotions in favour of an easy ending but I think I am better for it.

Anywho sorry for the rambling reply. Take good care of yourself while reading and practice some good self care bud. Your own wellbeing comes first!

[hyunjins3rdleg]

🍸 What’s Your Poison?🍸

Hi,I’m A—Jay! Nice to meet you,honey🩷

• Bbygirl of ‘01

• March🌷Pisces Princess

• Somehow managing to work a big girl job in the real world of the USA

Just vibin’ & thrivin’ on my new little blog sharing my cute little ideas with cute little strangers.

(That’s you, babe. You’re the cute stranger💋)

*Hwang Hyunjin bias based!*

(But you’ll see me reblog all the boys!!)

Join me for Happy Hour Gossip!

I’m open to request or a chat if you’d like to giggle,rant,or cry with me!

*Request🔒:fake text(predominately),drabbles,au prompts,etc(I have more time for shorter fics)

*I will not write member x member or poly(just not into that,sorry)incest/step siblings, taboo/hardcore themes, include the members’ real life family, and I will politely decline your request if it’s something I am not comfortable with writing or speaking on :)

*Stray Kids are real people & therefore everything below is completely fictional. This doesn’t reflect who they truly are in any way, shape, or form. I am not trying to misconstrue who they are in real life.

Don’t forget to touch grass,babe <3

✨Everyone’s welcome at Stay’s Bar✨

(especially my fellow Black stays🤎)

**MDNI & SFW Rules**

Minors(16+)are free to interact with my blog as long as you keep it cute & appropriate.

*SFW* Fics are safe for the younger stays and will usually only have profanity listed as the main warning.

*MDNI* Fics are self explanatory and should not be interacted with unless you are 18+

Keep it cute or get blocked <3

Angst⛈️/🌩️; Fluff🧸; Smut/Suggestive🔥

FWB!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸⛈️🔥 (MDNI)

A late night text accidentally sent to one of the artist you’re working with leads to a half a year long agreement and Hyunjin wants more…

(fwb to lovers)(IdolxMusic Producer!Reader)

Before You Ruined My Outfit? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Han Jisung is your childhood best friend and his attempt at playing Cupid goes horribly wrong somehow thanks to Hyunjin…

Fix Your Face, Please! 🧸🌩️ (MDNI)

Hyunjin’s very vocal about how jealous & possessive he can get, and although it can get troublesome you find it kind of hot…

We Were On Break!! 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Your ex boyfriend, Hyunjin, has a hard time accepting the end of your relationship and is very persistent on getting back together…

Corporate Gang 🧸 (MDNI)

JYP Co. gets a new IT-Agent and you can’t help but gush about him to your favorite coworkers…

(Nerdy,shy!Hyunjin Series)

Take Your Friends Out ⛈️🧸 (pt.1 ) (MDNI)

Your boyfriend has stood you up 3x this month and you decide that you’re done with being second place. Of course he disagrees…

Don’t Say That To Me ⛈️ (pt 2.) (MDNI)

Months after you took Hyunjin back you have to face the tough reality of falling out of love with him and end things for good…

Stress Induced Fever 🧸 (SFW)

Your job has decided to transfer you to their USA branch for a year and Hyunjin is failing miserably at holding himself together before you leave…

Sad Nudes? 🧸 (MDNI)

You’ve had a shit day and Hyunjin tries his best to cheer you up thousands of miles away…

I Love You. Now Date Me! 🧸🌩️ (SFW)

Your bestfriend has been jokingly telling you he’s in love with you for years only for you to find out it’s not a joke…and oh yeah, he HATES your boyfriend…

Babe, I Broke It 🧸 (SFW)

Hyunjin broke your brand new coffee mug and he’s taking it harder than you are (soft bbyboy)…

I Really Like You, Like Romantically 🔥🧸(MDNI)

Your best friend asks you for an insane favor of helping him lose his virginity and discovers his feelings in the process…

I Will Win! Fighting!🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You and Hyunjin make a friendly bet to survive No Nut November and despite his persistent confidence on winning, he eventually gives in…

Emergency Contact ⛈️ (SFW)

You and Hyunjin had a mutual breakup over a year ago, but apparently he forgot to remove you as his emergency contact and feelings are revisted…

Safe,Loved,& Accepted ⛈️ (SFW)

Bang Chan has been making light of the nasty comments you’ve been getting online until you are put in a sticky situation and he’s worried sick a thousand of miles away…

Have You Always Been This Hot?? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Attempting to survive No Nut November with your best friend Chan brings forth feelings neither of you knew existed…and really good sex…

I Just Want To Help ⛈️ (SFW)

Your ex Hyunjin takes it upon himself to help you with financial difficulties after months of no contact, but he never expected you to fight him every step of the way…

Wanna See It Up Close? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You always jokingly try to convince your best friend to get laid and he jokingly tells you to take his virginity (except it’s not a joke)…

I Hate You. All Of You. 🌩️ (SFW)

A sneaky picture brings your relationship and trust crashing down and he refuses to let it all go over a stupid misunderstanding….

Keeping Secrets 🌩️ (SFW)

Felix’s antics leaves Hyunjin an over dramatic mess and it takes an entire week before he confronts you about the secret you’ve been hiding…

Is This A Trick Question? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

It’s not a secret that Hyunjin’s perusing you romantically, but despite returning his feelings your past relationship holds you back. Little did you know Hyunjin was just what you needed to try at love again…

Model!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸🔥(SFW/MDNI)

At the height of his career, Hwang Hyunjin goes down the road nearly every 24 year old with fame in the public eye does - sex, money, and rebellion. You accepted a job set up by his parents to get his reputation and career back on track, and you’ve known no peace since thanks to your very clingy (and unashamedly in love) client…

(ModelxAssistant!Reader)(grumpy gf,sunshine bf)

[navybrat817]

Sweet and Strong

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You stop by the parlor to drop off some treats. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Fluff, flir-ting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Tess is a real one, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from my Sin on Skin AU.❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You did your best not to let your mind wander during the work day, but Bucky hadn’t left your thoughts since he dropped you off at your place. A dopey smile formed on your face more times than you could count. The tattoo artist was your dream come true. Someone who looked like they could destroy everything in their path, but treated you with such care.

And he said yes to a date with you.

How does a man like him exist?

“Careful,” Tess said, nudging you to the side so she could take a cookie from the case. “Keep making that happy face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled, making sure there were no customers looking as you typed a quick message to Bucky on your phone.

“Hope you have a good day, Hottie.”

After a moment, you cringed and put the device away. Though Bucky gave you his number after he dropped you off, you didn’t message him immediately. Waiting until today was better because enough time had passed, but was the text too casual? Not casual enough? Was it clingy to message him before you had your date?

Why am I overthinking this?

“If you’re smiling because of Bucky, it’s a very good thing. Especially after what he did to help you. I think he should get a permanent discount,” Tess said, making you raise an eyebrow when you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“We talked about this,” you gently reminded her when she pouted, a look that told you she was still upset. “Please, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

When Tess heard that Richard ambushed you after closing, she beat herself up for not being there. You assured her it wasn’t her fault that your ex showed up. She was thankful you were okay and that Bucky, and everyone else in the shop, stood up for you. She also added that if she saw Richard sniffing around the place that she’d kick him in the nuts.

Bucky assured you he wouldn’t come around and you believed him.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t see him get put in his place. Been a long time coming,” she said, a bit of mischief back in her eyes as she leaned against the counter to smile at you. “And I’m bummed I missed that kiss.”

“Why did I tell you about that?” you asked, your cheeks hot as you recalled the moment Bucky’s lip touched yours. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel him kissing you again. The memory made your heart swell.

As if on cue, your phone went off.

“Day’s better now that I’ve heard from you, Sugar. Can’t wait for our date. Planned something special.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reread the message and hugged the device to your chest. You weren't sure how many women Bucky dated or how many special dates he planned before you. The thought of it being a high number didn't make your stomach sink as you expected. What mattered was that the two of you were taking a chance on each other.

And even though you technically asked him out, he took the time to plan something for you. When was the last time a guy did anything remotely nice for you without expecting something in return? Why had you settled in the past for less than what you deserved?

“You told me because we’re best friends,” Tess answered with a smirk when you looked her way. “Is that him?”

“Yeah, it’s him,” you smiled, showing her the message. “I wonder what he has planned.”

“Whatever it is, you better give all the dirty details when he dicks you down. And not to be graphic, but I bet he eats pussy like-"

“Tess!" you groaned, praying the nearby customers weren’t listening. But, god, if you hadn’t thought about what he’d be like in bed. He’d be so good to you. “Let’s try and be professional.”

“Professional, my ass. I’m not the one flirting with the hunk or making eyes at him every time he steps into the shop,” she pointed out.

Fair.

“And, look, I’m not saying you have to get laid on the first date, but I am saying you have to let him in your pants at some point,” she said, laughing as you tossed a towel at her face.

You laughed, too, and wondered just how the night would go. If you put out on the first date, would he think you were easy? If you waited too long, would he move on? You were overthinking again, but you couldn't help it. You really liked him.

He likes me, too, so I must be doing something right.

“What do you get out of it if I let him in my pants?” you asked curiously.

Tess placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I get to keep seeing you happy, which you have every right to be."

"Thanks," you smiled, a wave of fondness crashing over you. The two of you saw each other go through many ups and downs of life. She deserved the world and it meant a lot that she wanted that for you, too. "Is it too much if I run some treats over for him? Especially since I just texted him?"

Bringing a small selection of baked goods for Bucky and the guys would be a small way to thank them for defending you. Deep down, it was also an excuse to see him before your date. You hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"The guy has visited the shop for all of your shifts since he first came in. So, no, it isn't too much if you surprise him and send something his way. He might like it."

"I'll be quick," you promised, selecting some of the best treats from the case, including one with little hearts.

"Take your time. Jill and I can handle this," she smiled as if she sensed your giddiness. "Go treat your man."

"He isn't my man yet," you teased.

But I'm already his girl.

"Yeah, he is," Tess winked, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now go."

It didn't take you long to cross the street to the parlor and thankfully you didn't drop the box. You hoped you looked decent. Well, as much as you could during a work day. At least you had a cute apron on.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" Jake said as you walked through the door. "Sugar! It's you!"

You held back a laugh when his voice echoed. "Yeah, it's me," you smiled, holding up the box. "I wanted to drop these off Bucky and the rest of you, if that's okay?"

"You brought us food?!" he asked, leaning on his arms to look over the counter. "Hold on. Lemme grab him."

"You sure? If he's with a client…" you trailed off when Jake dashed away from the counter.

You took a moment to look around again, your gaze settling on an intricate flower tattoo. Seeing the place without the fear of your ex following you made it even brighter than before. Like your shop, it was expressive and inviting. Bucky likely put as much love into it as you did with yours.

"That was my first piece."

You tore your gaze away from the wall to find Bucky beside you, a dopey smile back on your face. There was only a small amount of space between you and your heart raced as you looked him over, the large man clad in his usual tight shirt and jeans. He had his hair pulled back and you resisted the urge to tuck a few strands back that came loose.

He would manage to look sexy as hell with latex gloves on.

"It's beautiful," you said honestly.

"Thanks. She's a good friend and still a client of mine. So is her husband," he smiled gently. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me, too," you smiled back, holding up the box in your hands. "I just wanted to say thanks again to you and the guys for sticking up for me. It isn't much, but I hope you all enjoy them."

"Oh." A slight frown formed on his face when you handed him the treats. "You know you don't have to give us these, right? We didn't do it expecting you to give us anything in return and I'm sure as hell not going to let anyone speak to you the way that prick did."

You furrowed your brows a bit, even as you nearly swooned at his protectiveness. Had you upset him? "I know I don't have to," you said, clearing your throat. Why did the thought of them defending you just for being good guys make you emotional? "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Was this a bad idea?

You let out a breath when he smiled again. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated," he said, touching your arm. Even with the glove, the touch sent heat between your thighs. "It's a very sweet gesture, Sugar. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you said, satisfied that he wasn't unhappy with the small gift. "And I'll admit. I also stopped by because I wanted to see you before our date," you added.

"You did?" he smirked, bringing warmth to your cheeks as you nodded. "While we're admitting things to each other, I've been watching the door and hoping you'd stop in. I even dreamt about you when I took a nap."

"No, you didn't," you giggled, a sense of power and elatedness filling you that his pull to you was that strong.

"I swear. I don't think Steve will let me live that down" he chuckled. You wondered what exactly he dreamt about. Was it passionate? Intense? "Can't get you outta my mind. And, frankly, I don't want to."

Oh.

You didn't think he could make your heart beat any faster, but he continued to surprise you. There was no shame or timidness in his tone or his stare. It was steadfast and true, like he wasn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve with you. If he could be vulnerable and open with you this way, you could do the same in return.

Go big or go home, right?

"I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him, proud that your voice didn't waver.

"You can't?" he whispered and you suddenly didn't like the box between your bodies. It made him feel too far away.

"No, I can't," you whispered back, gazing into his blue eyes. "I waited to text you because I didn't want it to be too soon. And even though I don't know where you're taking me on our date, I already have the perfect sundress laid out and ready to go."

"You can text me as much as you want. I don't care what time of day," he assured you before his eyes lit up mischievously, like he knew something you didn't. "And a sundress is fucking perfect, but no asking for hints about our date"

"Not even a little one? Please?" you asked, giving him what you hoped was a cute pout. You didn't actually want him to tell you because you wanted him to surprise you, but you hoped you looked enticing.

Bucky slowly licked his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look hot, he more than succeeded. If he wasn't, did he have any idea what that teasing motion of his tongue did to you? "I'm tempted to tell you and I'm very tempted to kiss you right now, but no. No hints. I need to stay strong."

I'm very tempted to kiss you, too.

"Fine, Hottie. I'll be good," you teased, pouting again. "For now."

Bucky moved the box beside him so he could step closer, his eyes darker than before. "You wanna be good for me?"

Yes, sir.

"Yes," you answered, leaving out the "sir" that echoed in your mind and shivering as he continued to stare. Before you could say anything more, you noticed that the shop had gone quiet. You leaned over to look past Bucky and giggled when you saw the crew staring, taking you out of the moment. Steve and Hal both had knowing smirks on their faces, but no way could they have heard your conversation. "Hope you enjoy the treats!"

"Oh, we will," Hal winked. "What about you, Bucky? You gonna enjoy your treat?"

"Get back to work!" Bucky called back before he smiled disappointedly. "Speaking of, I should, too. I think my client gave me enough of a break."

"Yeah, I need to get back," you said. You didn't want to leave Tess and Jill hanging. "I hope you have a good rest of the day."

"You, too," he said as you went to the door. "Be good for me until I see you again."

Fuck.

"Only if you're good for me," you smiled over your shoulder, catching his surprised smirk before the door shut.

You took a breath, allowing the breeze to cool you off. Maybe a cold shower would do a better job. You smiled as your phone went off, expecting a teasing text from Tess. It caught you off guard when "Mom" popped up.

Well, that can't be good if she's texting me. God, did she somehow hear about Richard? The last thing I need is a lecture.

Instead of opening the message, you tucked your phone away. You needed to get back to work and you had a date to look forward to. You wouldn't allow your mom to sour your mood because Tess was right.

You had the right to be happy.

No ruining this upcoming date, mom! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nhl-stories]

Indoor Cat– Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy is excited to show his girlfriend Alaska, but she's not exactly an outdoor person

Author’s Note: Had so much fun writing this for @bqstqnbruin for @wyattjohnston's 2k24 summer fic exchange! Definitely made me want to write more Sway in the future

Word Count: 2.2k

“Sorry I was too lazy to fish my keys out of my backpack,” Catherine apologizes when Jeremy opens the door to his apartment.

“I wasn’t expecting you, so this is a nice surprise.”

She rolls her bike in and leans it up against the wall. Rubbing her hands across her face.

“I meant to text but I have a million exams to grade and my roommate was being a bitch and our air conditioning broke and I just had to leave.”

When she moves her hands away, Jeremy is standing in front of her with a sympathetic smile. He pulls her into a tight hug that makes her tension dissolve.

“You’re sweaty babe.”

Catherine gives him a shove, “Of course I am! No AC at the apartment and then I biked here in a million-degree weather with 50-pound backpack. I’m MELTING.”

“Sorry, my little ice queen can’t handle the heat.”

She levels a look at him that screams she’s not in the mindset for his little jokes and he bites his lips to hold back his smile.

After she takes a cold shower, she feels more like a real person. She throws on an oversized Maine t-shirt and makes her way to Jeremy’s dining table with a stack of papers.

Once she has a fresh red pen and her answer key, she gets into a sort of trance while grading. She doesn’t quite notice how far the sun has sunk when Jeremy comes behind her and wraps his arms around her kissing her right under her ear.

“Want me to order dinner?”

Catherine leans back into his touch, “Can we get Thai food?”

“Green curry and Pad Kee Mao?”

“Yes, please,” she kisses his cheek then goes back to focusing on tests.

When the food arrives, Jeremy moves her papers despite her protests.

“Stop, I have like so many tests to grade and only like two days to finish them and then enter the grades online.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take a break.” He moves the tests to the coffee table so they’re out of reach.

This is the price she has to pay if she works at Jeremy’s, which is a pretty nice trade off even if she fights it. Every. Single. Time.

“So, school’s out in a week… any big plans,” he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Jeremy is clearly hinting at their upcoming trip to Alaska, which Catherine has been actively avoiding planning specifics. She’s not exactly against seeing where he grew up and his parents, it’s the rest of the Alaska Experience™ that’s making her apprehensive.

She tries to be casual about what she says next.

“I’m moving in August.”

Jeremy stops with a forkful of noodles halfway up to his mouth, “Um- what?”

“Yeah, I mean I don’t get along with my roommate and our lease will be up then,” she takes a drink to stop herself from grinning, “And my boyfriend asked me to move in, so I thought I’d finally take him up on the offer.”

It’s a tactical distraction from Alaska, but also an announcement she’s excited to finally share, now that she’s informed her soon-to-be ex-roommate.

Jeremy is around the table and practically straddles her to wrap her in his arms around.

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t wait for the answer before kissing her.

Then he’s pulling back again, “Seriously?”

He goes back in for another kiss, it’s not very good. They’re both smiling too much for their lips to really meet, but soon they get in a rhythm.

 Then Jeremy starts to trail kisses down her jaw and neck. Catherine indulges him for a bit before gripping his hair to pull him back.

“I love the excitement, and I’m excited to move in too, but none of this tonight,” she kisses the tip of his nose, “I still have to be a responsible teacher.

He buries his face in her neck and mumbles, “No you don’t, just quit your job.”

“You say that now while you’re not working, but come fall when you’re back to work and I have nothing to do, you’ll be evicting me,” she rakes her nails through his hair.

“Is that why Taylor is being a bitch?” He says once he comes up for air.

“I mean, it’s not helping, but it’s also just her natural state as a roommate,” she gives Jeremy a gentle push, “Now let me eat my dinner so I can finish my work.”

“Then we can finish this later?” A quick, but filthy kiss follows.

“Maybe, no promises,” Catherine gives him her best stern teacher face, so he knows she means business.

She doesn’t finish all of her tests, mostly because Jeremy is determined to be touching her at all times. So, to keep him from moving around, Catherine holds him in place; leaning back on his chest on the sectional. His hands have free reign and she’s within kissing range. It appeases Jeremy, but greatly slows her grading speed.

Eventually, she just gives up and lets Jeremy rush her to the bedroom. Claiming they need to ‘christen their bedroom’ as if Catherine hadn’t already christened it every which way.

And it’s enjoyable and wonderful until her alarm goes off extra early to make up for the work she didn’t finish. Normally, she’s actually a morning person, but at the end of the school year, her body and mind are ready to call it quits.

Jeremy calls it teacher playoffs. A stupid joke that never fails to make her laugh. She’s soft for his goofy side, even when it’s telling the dumbest jokes.

“Need any help before school?” Jeremy comes up behind her in the shower, wrapping his arms around her waist, hands dipping dangerously low.

“Not that kind of help, that’s for sure,” Catherine giggles while she turns around then moves his hands back to his side.

“You’ve already done enough with this,” she points to a mark where her collarbone meets her shoulder, “this is almost ‘have an awkward conversation with my students’ visible.”

“Consider it payback for you putting off the Alaska talk again.”

Catherine clenches her jaw.

“You thought I haven’t noticed, but the trip is in 10 days and you keep ignoring me every time I bring it up.”

“Yeah, cause you’re gonna talk me into exploring the Alaskan bush or something crazy, when I can explore an Alaskan bush any time I want,” she playfully gropes Jeremy.

He lets out an involuntary groan, before backing away, “See! You’re doing it again! Although great joke, babe.”

Catherine steps back into the spray, rinsing out her conditioner, “Fine. I’ll stay late to finish all my grading and stuff and then we can talk after.”

“Thank you,” he gives Catherine a peck, “And afterwards feel free to explore the bush if you want.”

Catherine rolls her eyes and gets out of the shower.

She gets dressed, thankfully the outfit she packed covers the hickey even with her hair up.

Jeremy is waiting for her with a towel around his waist, a bowl of yogurt and fruit waiting for her and a to-go thermos of coffee.

“Want me to drive you in? So, you don’t have to bike there and back.”

“Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off a few blocks away. Cause if my students see me with you, I’ll never get them to focus, and they’re squirrely enough this time of year.”

◊◊◊

Catherine finishes her grading sooner than she thinks, even enters all the grades online. Now there’s two things to not look forward to; planning with Jeremy and annoying emails from parents about final grades.

She checks the weather on her phone, the heat doesn’t seem to be breaking and won’t until the sun sets a couple hours from now.

She debates her options for a few minutes before deciding to ask Jeremy for a ride home. The deciding factor being she’d rather have an uncomfortable talk without first having a sweaty bike ride. The less time out of the comfort of AC, the better.

“And this isn’t embarrassing for me to pick you up out front?” Jeremy snarks when he pulls up to the curb.

Catherine rolls her eyes and starts to load the bike in the back, “I should have just dealt with the heat.”

When she slides into the passenger seat, Jeremy grabs her hand intertwining their fingers and giving it a squeeze.

“I’m just buttering you up before I tell you about all the Alaskan adventures I have planned for us.”

“I’m already exhausted.”

Jeremy squeezes her hand again, then points an air vent more towards Catherine.

When they get back to the apartment Catherine flops onto the couch, “Okay lay it on me.”

Of course, Jeremy takes that as an invitation to drop right on top of her, barely catching himself before his whole weight lands on her.

He leans in to kiss her. Once, twice… he pauses like he’s trying to figure out if he can get away with more. Instead, he decides to sit up and pull Catherine up with him.  

“Why are you so anxious about this trip? You’ve met most of family and friends, and you’ve agreed to move in with me so I don’t think this is a commitment thing…”

She throws back her head and takes in a deep breath, “No, but it’s gonna sound stupid and miniscule in comparison.”

“But I like the sound of small rather than something more fundamental to our relationship.”

Catherine takes a moment, trying put the words the right way in her head.

“I’m worried that you have not spent a lot of summer time with me so you have not seen how much I wilt in the sun and heat and generally want to die. It’s a very ugly side of me both because of my sweat and my attitude and I spend a lot of energy trying to avoid it.”

Catherine feels like she has to avoid eye contact while she gets this off her chest. Mostly because she can feel herself flush with embarrassment about her confession.

“And then you’ll want to climb a mountain or something and you’ll see that we are not on the same outdoorsy level and realize we just aren’t compatible,” she looks down at her lap in shame.

“Oh sweetheart,” Jeremy cups her face, “that is stupid. Alaska rarely gets over 70 degrees.”

Catherine lets out a surprised laugh.

“I already know you’re a bit of an indoor cat,” he smirks at the play on her name.

“I’m being vulnerable here and you’re making fun of me!” She doesn’t mean for it to come out so whiny.

“And if you had talked to me before this, you would know I’ve already thought about all these things.”

She cocks her head in response.

 “I would never make you face your least favorite thing, temperatures over 80 degrees, if there was something I could do to stop that.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“And that’s just the start,” Jeremy can’t help but grin.

“I’d love to show you the top of a mountain but everything there is so beautiful we don’t need to climb thousands of feet of elevation to see something great. I have so many options you can choose from, I made you a spreadsheet.”

“This is might sound sarcastic, but that weirdly turns me on.”

Jeremy pulls her into his chest, “If I really needed to do some crazy, difficult hike, I know people who like that. I’m going on this trip to spend time with you and if that means a flat, short hike, I’m going to love it.”

“Most importantly,” Jeremey untangles himself and leaves the room.

He comes back with a suitcase, “I bought you a suitcase just for books you want to bring. So, when we go out on the boat you can just read and look pretty if you don’t want to fish.”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

She gets up and jumps into his arm.

“So, you’re excited for our trip now?”

Catherine smiles and decides to show him with actions rather than words.

◊◊◊

Catherine has never been happier to be proven wrong, Alaska is honestly her ideal summer vacation. Not too hot, too gorgeous to describe with words, and the almost never-ending daylight made it seem all seem like some kind of dreamland.

The view right now is proof.

Book in her lap, Jeremy looking hot driving the boat in the foreground, and a glacier in the background.

The boat slowly comes to a stop.

“See something you like?” Jeremy smirks from the captain’s seat.

She shrugs, “this book is kind of dragging and I was thinking, you know I’ve never had sex on a boat?”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows.

“And we happen to be on a boat… in this very scenic… fairly romantic location,” she tries to use her best innocent, doe eyes.

In a flash, her book is on the ground and Jeremy is on top of her.

It’s something Catherine can see becoming a summer tradition.

[luvhhannie]

in every universe | y. jeonghan x reader

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: in every universe, judgement, betrayal and love seem to lead you and jeonghan to be destined to drift away. would there be any universe where destiny finally leads you two together?

𓇢𓆸 genre: romance, angst, mutual pining

𓇢𓆸 cw: major character death, cheating, self harm, suicide, references to nothing new, unrequited love, just angst man (not proof read)

𓇢𓆸 wc: 2.70k

𓇢𓆸 a/n: is this fic kinda related to my break up? who knowsss, get what you get from this fanfic. anyways, reblogs and hearts are very much appreciated! thank you for the support! 🤍

“let’s break up” you said as you stand firmly in front of your boyfriend, now ex, jeonghan. he looked at you sternly and sighed.

“okay.” he simply said. you gulped as tears suddenly fill up your eyes. you never wanted to break up with him, yet you knew that if he was the one breaking up with you right now, you would go insane. he suddenly opened his mouth.

“i’m sorry, really, i just don’t love you romantically anymore. we’ll still stay best friends, right?” he said. this is a healthy break up. you reminded yourself. you smiled softly at him.

“of course.” that was exactly a week ago before you found out he has been cheating on you behind your back. you were curious to see how he was doing so you looked through his socials when you saw he already had matching icons and bios with another person. you also saw that he has been commenting on the third party’s posts months even before your breakup.

“i just want you to be honest with me, jeonghan. was the reason for the breakup was because you didn’t love me anymore, or because you’ve been going behind my back MONTHS back into our past relationship?” you texted him. you only wanted the truth, you even dmed the other girl as you wanted to make sure that your assumptions weren’t real. yet her ignorant replies just proved your point that he knew what he was doing.

jeonghan denied everything you have said. you always trusted your gut feeling, so you cut him off completely, telling him that you were done with his friendship and lies.

“don’t ever contact me again, starting tonight. whatever happened to us in the past is nothing now. you betrayed my trust and i could never look into your eyes ever again.” you texted him, paragraphs by paragraphs, only for him to reply with two measly sentences.

“i don’t judge you for that but i don’t want to argue with you, proving that i am not a cheater. goodbye, yn.” that was the last thing you have ever heard of your ex. you always wondered if you did the right thing by cutting him off. but then again, he betrayed your trust and lied to you. you would’ve been okay if he said the real reason why he wanted to break up. this is the universe where your soul suffered the most. meeting him, talking to him and developing feelings for him over the years, finally loving him and having him as yours and you as his, then suddenly, ending as strangers all over again, but now with memories.

though, your soul might also think that the universe where you had passed away is the most miserable. in this universe, you had met jeonghan through your brother. you slowly developed a crush on jeonghan and began falling in love with him. from his sweet antics to his playful gestures. you were in love with him, so you decided to confess. the answer you got only got you in your worst state yet. you unfortunately caught a disease where unrequited love could kill you. either you lose the memories of the person you love to survive, or die loving the person you are infatuated with. your love for jeonghan was so strong you wanted to carry the sickness till your death, as long as you don’t forget yoon jeonghan.

in every universe, your love for yoon jeonghan is as powerful as the universal force. in every universe, you have found home in jeonghan, and so did he. in this universe, you and jeonghan were highschool classmates. you both had crushes on each other, yet no one made a move to one another, afraid of the other’s response. you two pined on each other, crushes slowly turning into love. however, on one faithful day, jeonghan finally decided that he will confess to you. unbeknownst to him, that was also the last day of you attending your highschool.

“i like you, yn. i like you a lot.” he confessed. you smiled sadly at him as you hold his hands.

“i’m so glad you do. i like you too. ever since we met.” you confessed back. you and jeonghan started crying and finally held each other’s body.

“i’m sorry, i’m moving away. i should’ve said something earlier.” you cried in his comforting arms. he sniffled and looked into your eyes.

“it’s okay, yn. let’s live this moment for now, okay? let’s love each other one last time here. promise me we’ll still keep in contact?” he asked you as he wipes your tears away. you smiled sadly.

“of course.” in this universe, no one cheated. but a promise was broken again. you and jeonghan never kept contact with each other, even during and after graduation. as time flies by, he already graduated college, and so did you. during one evening, one of his coworkers asked him if he wanted to go to one of his friends’ wedding. jeonghan being a good friend, he agreed.

finally at the wedding, jeonghan and his friend, seungcheol, waited for the bride to walk the aisle. seungcheol told jeonghan that his friend, and also coworker, joshua, was crying before the wedding started. joshua had told seungcheol that he was going to marry the most perfect person on earth and that he would die for her. jeonghan laughed at his story, thinking how silly the statements joshua had made when they finally heard the piano keys playing, indicating that the bride will soon start walking.

hearing the church door open, the guests started standing up and looking at the bride. jeonghan finally realized that joshua’s statement weren’t silly. the bride that joshua is going to marry really is perfect. the bride that joshua is going to marry is the same girl he dreamed of marrying back in highschool. he watched as yn walk down the aisle, trying to stop the tears coming out of his eyes. he silently watch the girl he has always loved smile to the guests, when both of them made eye contact. jeonghan thought that the world stopped spinning and everything was in stop motion. she took a deep breath and smiled sadly at jeonghan, continuing to walk towards her fiancé. jeonghan could only watch the two joyous couple in the background. finally hearing them both say their vows, jeonghan closed his eyes, letting the tears he has been putting up fall down to his cheeks. cheers and shouts erupted from the chapel as the newly wed couple share their first kiss. he knew at that moment, you have never loved him as much as he had loved you. he knew that you were never his. he knew that even if you deserve the love you have right now, he will never, ever, win it.

jeonghan’s soul might say that was the universe he had suffered the most. however, the universe where your mental health took over your body says otherwise. in this universe, you searched for treatments and help from professionals in the mental health field because of depression, and that is where you met yoon jeonghan, a psychotherapist. you were in your early twenties while jeonghan was in his late twenties. he has been your therapist for a couple of months now and has helped you a lot. despite his aid, you were still suffering from depression. the thoughts of you not having a purpose in the world and being a failure took a toll of your mental health. your therapist would always tell you that he’s always going to be there for you whenever you need help. there wasn’t any romantic intentions in his words, but platonic, a hint of wanted friendship. knowing you for a long time, jeonghan has taken a liking to you and thought of becoming friends with you. but of course, he still has to be professional.

“so, how have you been, yn? are there any thoughts that have been lingering in your mind?” he asks you as he usually does.

“i’ve been…alright. i’ve just been thinking of how i’m going to celebrate my birthday these days, since it’s next week.” you said to him. he wrote on his notepad as he listened to you.

“hm, that’s good. i hope you have a wonderful birthday, yn. how does your body feel right now? weak? good?” he asks you. you sit upright and blinked your eyes.

“my body feels okay. it’s just that sometimes i feel nauseous and tired.” you admitted. he suddenly stopped writing on his notepad and looked at you.

“have you been eating?” he asks. you nodded.

“yeah, i usually skip dinner though.” you said. he smiled softly and went back to his notepad.

“you should still try getting three meals a day. doesn’t matter how big or small the portion is, you need to eat.” he said. you looked up at him and smiled.

“yeah, i’ll try.” your check up went on for more minutes. as he finishes up the session, he suddenly looked at you.

“hey, yn?” he called out for you. you were already grabbing your handbag when he called you.

“yes?”

“i…i’m always here for you, you know that right? i’m your therapist, i’m here to help you. don’t be afraid to say everything to me. remember i’m always one call away.” is what jeonghan has said. but what he actually wanted to say was:

“i’m always here for you, yn. even if you only see me as your therapist, i’m also your friend. i’ll always help you no matter what.”

you and jeonghan always have a weekly therapy session, but the week after your last session, you never showed up. jeonghan thought it was probably because you were getting ready for your birthday. he even prepared a gift for you, a necklace with a clover pendant. he called you just in case you have forgotten your therapy session. it was unusual for you to miss a session. it was already 5 pm and you still haven’t answered him, even once. finally going past his “professionalism” agenda, jeonghan decided to go to your home. he drove to your apartment safely and knocked on your door several times.

“yn-ssi?” he asked through the front door. silence. jeonghan’s heartbeat started rattling through his chest. he suddenly twisted the door knob and unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t locked. he went inside your home and looked through every room. you weren’t in the kitchen, bathroom nor living room. finally reaching the last room, he opened the door to your bedroom. he widened his eyes as his mouth gaped open.

“yn?”

there you were, hanging from your ceiling fan. jeonghan could only stare in shock. dropping to his knees, he started breathing heavily.

did he not help you at all?

were all the check ups not helping you?

did he drive you to kill yourself?

was he not worth to be an aid to people?

he called 911 to report the incident and soon the authorities came, interviewing jeonghan.

he wasn’t even able to tell you that he wanted to be friends with you. he knew so much about you yet know so little about how you are. he was too late to tell you that he loved your company. that he loved you as a friend.

in every universe your soul has lived, you and jeonghan are destined to meet, destined to love each other, destined to leave each other. your soul always wondered, if there were such things as soulmates, were you and jeonghan one? destiny has always brought you two together, but also brought you two to fall apart on each other’s arms. were there any universe where you two meet, fall in love, and live your lives together? your soul always question this. in every death your soul has lived, it passes on to another lifetime.

in this lifetime, you’re just living your life as a choreographer. you have worked with countless artists and other dancers in your career. in this new chapter of your life, you were called to choreograph a dance for a kpop group you haven’t worked with yet. you have worked with countless kpop artists, from twice to nct. you were familiar with kpop and the industry of course, but you were excited to meet the group you’re going to work with.

“here’s their practice room, i’ll leave you to it. i’ll have my assistant to come with you in there. again, thank you for accepting our request.” one of the higher ups in hybe ent told you as you bowed to them. you entered the practice room, feeling a sense of familiarity, and saw several guys already stretching, blasting their song in the room. you were given a couple of weeks to create choreography for their new song, but you told them that meeting the group should be done first as creating a bond between the artist and choreographer is as important as creating an amazing piece. one of the males went up to you and bowed.

“oh, hello! are you ln yn-ssi? i’m scoups. i’m the leader of the group. it’s nice to finally meet you.” he introduced himself as you bowed back.

“yeah, it’s nice to meet you too, scoups-ssi. i already listened to the song a couple of times and have ideas for it already, but i really do want to create a bond with the team first, since i’ll be working with you guys for a couple of months.” you smiled at him. he smiled back nodded.

“yeah, for sure. i get what you mean. here, i’ll introduce you to the members.” he said as he gathered the group together. he did a small introduction of you to the group and they instantly welcomed you with warm smiles. you thought that dk, dino and vernon had the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. meeting them one by one, you learned that they had units and you instantly clicked with the performance team.

“i’ve been a huge fan ever since i saw you compete with a contemporary piece at swf!” dino geeked over you. you chuckled at him and thanked him. you and hoshi were already familiar with each other, considering that you two were fans of each other. still talking to the performance team, you felt a gaze behind you. you looked back and saw the angel faced male. you smiled softly to him and bid your goodbyes to the performance team. you walked up to jeonghan and watched him stretch his arms. he looked back at you.

“hey”

“hey”

you both say at the same time. you two chuckled as you sit down next to him. you nodded your head, telling him to go first.

“oh, well, i was just wondering if we’ve met before? i feel like i’ve known you but i just can’t seem to remember” he asked you. he was thinking the same thing as you. you smiled softly and hummed.

“i don’t think so…but i do feel like we’ve known each other for a long time already.”

“i think so too, do you think we’re soulmates?” he joked. you laughed at his statement and walked away.

“if we were soulmates, i think your fans would go crazy to think that their idol is soulmates with a person like me.”

“hmm, better than a sasaeng!”

in this universe, your soul knew jeonghan’s soul, and so did his. your soul hopes that this universe will be the universe where you and jeonghan finally live your lives together in love. little did your soul know, another soul has been thinking the same thing ever since he has met a familiar warmth in this universe.

[tojiscrack]

WIFEYYYYY IMY

i legit have been so proud of myself lately bc i havent been talking to shitbag almost at all. i even waited in my car until he walked up to school bc we both pulled into the lot at the same time and i didnt want him to talk to me!

'i HAD to implement dadjo in the series bc as much as his relationship with the characters in canon was more like a fun older brother looking out for his students, he’s so father coded, specifically during the exchange event in s1 of jjk'

I AM SO HAPPY FOR THIS!!! I LOVE DADJO HCS

'HELP HE’S JUST A GUY WITH A CRUSH 😭'

so was shit bag 💔

but i have decided that if y/n and kamo get tgth and then y/n realizes her true feelings for megumi and breaks up w kamo, i will forgive you. barely.

'girl any more of the y/n criticism from you and i’m gonna start to think you hate our poor mc 🫵🏽😟🫷🏽'

listen. i dont haaaaaate her... yet.

she just gives me SO MUCH SECOND HAND EMBARASSMENT. LIKE HOLY MOLY THIS IS BAD.

'now with that threat, i humbly remind you of the ‘angst’ tag 🌝 no comment on anything after that'

"MERCUPINE IS CANON!" i thrash against my strait jacket as they throw me into the room with the padded walls.

'but unfortunately, at some point from here and up until june, there are gonna be super slow updates :( i’ll address that another time tho! <3'

AWWW DAMNNNN. i hope everything is okay pookie bear 🙏

yk i havent been this in love with a fic since like 2022 when i found a 500k word bakugo fanfic that was literally written like a novel. AND URS IS EXACTLY LIKE IT BRO.

like writer to writer- your exposition is INSANE. being able to develop their friendship when they're only like 5 or so is so cool to me because the initial friendship development is something i struggle with lowk....

BUT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH PLS DONT DIE

'i am (unfortunately) a very picky eater. and i hate peanut butter ☹️'

STAY WITH ME. STAY WITH ME.

this is why we use unsweetened peanut butter protein powder. because, you can make it whatever texture u want and the peanut taste is toned down. and it adds protein to ur meal so u can be buff. (i am a gym bro)

'ik you mention that you guys have mutual friends and are in several gc’s tgth, so maybe blocking him is just not possible here, but giving him clipped responses when he texted and declining face-times is very much possible, i believe'

YEAHHH THATS WHAT IVE BEEN DOING THE PAST FEW DAYS LOL

he doesn't ft me tho which is great. he just sends me tiktoks that i respond to 23 hrs later so he doesn't bitch ab me losing our streak LMAO

'but make sure they’re very simple responses, nothing he can use as an opportunity to build on.'

yeah thats my move rn

'hmmm, this tells me a lot about him already 💀 i’m sorry kay, i do NOT like this imposter who-entered-earth-without-a-visa 😐'

YEAH BRO IDK HOW I EVEN LIKED HIM

like the past few days, the rose tined glasses have been lifted. esp bc one of our mutual friends gave him a kanye west american flag and he keeps posing with it everywhere.

liking kanye is embarassing enough idk why he's doing this too.

it reminds me of the time he trapped me in his car and made me listen to his explanation on why kanye west wasn't a bad guy.

'HAHAHA 😭 i’m dead serious. i don’t like that guy. i even feel like ‘shitbag’ as a name for him is a compliment, if anything.'

lowk ur so right

'do not compare our respectful-nonchalant-dreadhead-kamo to that bin-juice-of-a-human-being-SHITBAG. EVER 🤢'

I MEANT THE WAY WE REACT TO THEM LMAOAOAOAOAO

'did i forget to mention that i DETEST shitbag with my whole entire being?'

no i dont think u mentioned it 🤔🤔🤔

'CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT 🥳 WE LOVE TO SEE IT'

YES MAAAAM

'ok good, you’re not longer texting that unique-breed-of-human-kind, got my first point out of the way real quick. don’t ever text him unless he texts you'

YEPPP

'secondly, niceguy’s available. probably the only thing i agree with shitbag with. you should get with niceguy :)'

okay yeah but like even if im not that close friends w his ex-gf, we're still friends...

and our grade literally has 80 ppl in it so i would rather not do her dirty like that bc she WILL know

and we used to be rlly good friends in middle school

i snap him tho bc we are in fact still friends even if he dated my friend- i mean we have literally known each other for 10 yrs LMAO

'marry fictional men and die in love with them'

i think this is a very good plan. i am currently writing iwaizumi fanfiction bc iwaizumi haijime (27) athletic trainer is all i need rn!

lowk this fic was inspired by liar liar in the sense that i took inspo from how u have it start when they're younger / preshow. i had it start in their first yr so i can develop their friendship before they go straight into love. (i'm ur biggest fan btw)

'i’m not aware of it. even when i looked it up, i was a little confused haha.'

oh my god it's literally like the dumbest cringest game ever but i love it so much. it's an otome dating sim game and it's so nostalgic to me bc i used to play it when i was like 13.

but it's fucked up my sleep schedule bc part of the game is that u have to play the chatrooms before the next one unlocks or the previous one will lock and u have to pay (in game cash) to play it afterwards.

so i have a schedule.

i stay up til 1:52 to play the 1:48 chatroom and then i sleep, wake up at 6:50 for school, play the 3ish AM chatroom before the 8AM chatroom unlocks, and then go to school, play the 8AM chatroom, and continue playing the chatrooms throughout the day.

now let me show u the cringey ass messages these characters send and the cringey ass messages im forced to send (i have to pick through a few options).

LIKE THIS IS SO CRINGE.... BUT I AM FREE.

'but i am super glad you are starting to find enjoyable things to look back on that take you away from the negative doom-cloud that is shitbag! 😙 idek you irl but that genuinely makes me so happy for youuuu <3'

AWWWWWW ILYSM

'i’m living vicariously through you, honestly 😭'

AWWWWW

'THEY CAN STILL BE LONG, I LOVE HEARING ABOUT UR DAY AND STUFF AND GETTING TO KNOW YOU, but i’m glad shitbag will no longer be the centre of our conversations'

okay so lets kiss pls and ty

also have u heard the epic the musical concept album at all? like that one tiktok audio that's like 'i would fall in love with you over and over again'.

bc it's taken over my fyp w emo ass edits and my friends are SICK OF ME

too many satosugu edits w this audio and i'm gonna kms pls and ty

OKAYYYY THAT IS IT FOR TODAY'S UPDATE! I HOPE UR DAY IS AMAZING POOKIE BEAR <3

HELLO AGAIN!! <333

‘i legit have been so proud of myself lately bc i havent been talking to shitbag almost at all’ — I’M SO PROUD OF YOU TOO WHATTT 😭😫 i’m now at ease, we haven’t lost another one of our gorgeous girlies to the m*le species, thank the lord 😤

‘(…) and i didnt want him to talk to me!’ — YEEEESSSS, we’ve made it to that point! 🥳 today is a good day 😌

‘I LOVE DADJO HCS’ — me too 😋 it’s a shame gege didn’t implement this more in canon-jjk, but it is what it is, ig

‘so was shit bag 💔’ — NUH UH 🤨 shitbag is not just a guy with a crush he’s not even a guy at all, that’s an undiscovered breed right there , he’s someone who treats both the girls he likes AND dislikes like dog shit, and i’m not having it 😐

‘if y/n and kamo get tgth and then y/n realises her true feelings for megumi and breaks up w kamo, i will forgive you. barely’ — 🫣 we shall see… 👀

‘listen. i dont haaaaaate her... yet’ — free my poor mc from the shackles of ur scepticism 🤛🏽😔🤜🏽

‘she just gives me SO MUCH SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT’ — you think SHE gives you second hand embarrassment? 😧 girlypops, try reading my levi fic (don’t, actually, i’m just using this as an example haha) , y/n over there is unhinged to the point where second hand embarrassment is literally her middle name 😭

‘"MERCUPINE IS CANON!" i thrash against my strait jacket as they throw me into the room with the padded walls’ — LMAOOOO 😭 DKMMM 💀 technically they are canon (the story is centred around them), and even as the author who could potentially go for the bittersweet type of ending where they don’t end up together, i can easily say (with confidence) that they have a shit ton more chemistry than mermaid and kamotionless 😊

but we'll see how everything goes!

‘AWWW DAMNNNN. i hope everything is okay pookie bear 🙏' — well... i revealed why i had concerns about my (already ass) updating schedule now 👀 ik this ask was sent in a few days before my announcement last night, so ofc you couldn't have known when you sent this in. but now you do! and i appreciate ur support SOOO much. i swear, you have no idea <3

i also responded quite late to this ask 'cause it's quite long, and i like to address every single thing in longer asks so im not purposely missing anything out and then come across as dry haha 🥴

'yk i havent been this in love with a fic since like 2022 when i found a 500k word bakugo fanfic that was literally written like a novel. AND URS IS EXACTLY LIKE IT BRO' — 🥹🥹🥹

ik a lot of ppl complain about long fics, but i can’t help but love them (especially when i’m in the comfort of my own room just reading as i go with all the lights off, no school the next day, no alarm set, etc).

and this… coming my story to a novel? 😩

i’m so unbelievably flattered rn, like i want to grab you through the screen and i can’t ☹️

‘like writer to writer- your exposition is INSANE. being able to develop their friendship when they're only like 5 or so is so cool to me because the initial friendship development is something i struggle with lowk...’ — UGH, STOP IT, MY HEART CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS 😫🩵🩵🩵

MY BPM IS HIGHER THAN NORMAL RN AND I HAVEN’T EVEN EXERCISED TODAY ❤️‍🔥

wishing i was shakespeare rn so i can give you the most poetic response that isn’t just ‘i’m so flattered’, ‘stoppp’, ‘ilysm moreee’, etc. the problem is that i’m always at a loss for words ‘cause of the range of compliments you offer 😭💕

‘STAY WITH ME. STAY WITH ME’ — 🙁 … ☹️ … 🌬️🏃🏽‍♀️‍➡️…🚪

‘this is why we use unsweetened peanut butter protein powder. because, you can make it whatever texture u want and the peanut taste is toned down. and it adds protein to ur meal so u can be buff’ — maybe i’ll try it 😳 i’ve yet to find a protein powder brand that doesn’t make me shit myself + give me acne, but we’ll see! i don’t have really high hopes tho (i’m a picky eater 😔)

‘like the past few days, the rose tined glasses have been lifted’ — the more i read this ask, the more i smile 😋

‘it reminds me of the time he trapped me in his car and made me listen to his explanation on why kanye west wasn't a bad guy’ — UMM?? THAT’S ASSAULT?? HELLO? 😭

ARE YOU OK? NEED A LAWYER? I’M STUDYING LAW, I GOT YOU 😟

‘I MEANT THE WAY WE REACT TO THEM LMAOAOAOAOAO’ — THANK GOD 😔

‘and our grade literally has 80 ppl in it so i would rather not do her dirty like that bc she WILL know. and we used to be rily good friends in middle school’ — mmm, yeah, so maybe not niceguy either. back to the fictional men plan then! (until someone new comes along and meets our high standards for you!) 😋

‘i think this is a very good plan. i am currently writing iwaizumi fanfiction bc iwaizumi haijime (27) athletic trainer is all i need rn!’ — WAIT WAIT WAIT, iwaizumi hajime from haikyuu? LMAO WAIT, I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTO KAGEYAMA OR SMTH? 😭

HAHAHA I’M DYING, HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS COMING?

‘lowk this fic was inspired by liar liar in the sense that i took inspo from how u have it start when they're younger / preshow. i had it start in their first yr so i can develop their friendship before they go straight into love’ — 😳

a lot of my ao3 readers would tell me that i inspired them to write fics and stuff, but they never tell me what it is about my story that inspired them, yk? so as nice as it is to hear such a thing from them, i never know what exactly about LL got them writing 🙁

BUT THIS? 🥹

i’m so flattered honoured, genuinely. maybe one day, when i can stop scaring myself about reading other people’s works (it’s a genuine irrational fear of mine), i can pick up one of yours and give you the queen!treatment you give me every other day 🥹🩵

‘im ur biggest fan btw)’ — excuse me, DON’T call urself that. we’re friends 👊🏽🤨 (i’m spudding you btw)

‘oh my god it's literally like the dumbest cringest game ever but i love it so much’ — me talking about episode 2015 😀

‘but it's fucked up my sleep schedule bc part of the game is that u have to play the chatrooms before the next one unlocks or the previous one will lock and u have to pay (in game cash) to play it afterwards. so i have a schedule. i stay up til 1:52 to play the 1:48 chatroom and then i sleep, wake up at 6:50 for school, play the 3ish AM chatroom before the 8AM chatroom unlocks, and then go to school, play the 8AM chatroom, and continue playing the chatrooms throughout the day’ — HAHAHAHHAHAA 😭 IDK WHY THIS MADE ME LAUGH LMAOOO, you literally ended up making a whole plan around ur sleeping schedule for this game? 😭 DAMN, how good must it be???

I’M CRYINGGGG THE MESSAGES 😭😭😭

WHEN YOU SAID IT WAS CRINGE, I DIDN’T THINK IT WAS ‘i’d like to tell kay how i feel and make her mine but—’ , ‘you can have me right now!’ TYPE OF CRINGE? HELLO? 😭

I’M CRYINGGGG STOPPP

AND THIS YOOSUNG GUY COMING IN TO PUT IN HIS 2 CENTS IS KILLING MEEEEE 😭

‘omg’ after the zen guy literally declared that you’re his omega LMFAOOO

yoosung’s just a chill guy 😀

‘don’t let the beast inside of me awaken’ — HUH???? 😭

KAY I’M ACTIALLY DYING MY STOMACH HURTS SO BAD WTH IS THIS 😭😭😭

THAT’S SUCH A MALAKAI THING OF HIM TO SAY, wait—

👀

your type is literally malakai?

LMFAOOOO KAY X MALAKAI NO WAYYYY 😭😭😭

‘no one dare to touch her 🐺’ — BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAGAHAYAGAHSHSHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

PLS HOW DOES Y/N GIVE YOU SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT WHEN ZEN IS RIGHT THERE

kay pls tell me you’re joking. there’s absolutely no way 😭 and you told me all this in CONFIDENCE 💀

‘LIKE THIS IS SO CRINGE.... BUT I AM FREE’ — KAY 😭

self aware queen? 🥴💜

‘also have u heard the epic the musical concept album at all? like that one tiktok audio that's like 'i would fall in love with you over and over again.’ bc it's taken over my typ w emo ass edits and my friends are SICK OF ME’ — HAHAHAHA, no i actually haven’t 😭 so i looked it up just now and i’ve genuinely never heard of it in my life, ever’

‘too many satosugu edits w this audio and i'm gonna kms pls and ty’ — wait that makes sense as to why i haven’t seen it 💀

i don’t ship satosugu 👀 i can hear the shippers coming to bury me alive so my tiktok fyp is obviously gonna be catered towards videos i’ll end up liking and saving, and since i don’t actively search for satosugu edits and like and save them, my fyp is most definitely completely different to yours

hence why i’ve never heard of that audio 😭

but i should be glad! even tho i don’t ship them, i see tragedy in their friendship every time i see scenes of them together, so maybe it’s a good thing i hadn’t seen or heard of the audio before this ☹️

stop now i’m imagining you and zen with this audio HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH 😭

he’d fall in love with you over and over again… and you’d have to make sure the beast inside him doesn’t awaken over and over again 💀

ok i’ll stop 😭

[jerzwriter]

You are so fucking disgusting Elsa. Using your bland ass straight white bitch MC to be the MC of the Month for Pride Month.

You’ve gone really low

Good morning, Nonny.

I'd like to say hope you're having a good day, but clearly, you're not.

I was 50/50 on putting this in my "delete because Nonny is a bitter troll who doesn't deserve the attention/exposure they desperately crave" file. But this anon goes beyond the usual "I'm a pathetic human who hates someone on the internet who has zero impact on my life so much because of (insert stupid/insane reason here), so I'm going to be a vile bully and send them anonymous hate because - IDK - I can't find a good therapist? I'm off my meds? I'm just a vile piece of shit?" See, I no longer waste my time or energy on those.

But I decided to answer this because a) you're wrong, and b) you're engaging in bi-erasure - something that happens in the fandom and in real life every day, and I'm not going to pass up a chance to educate your ignorance and address your bigotry.

Casey was picked at random - the same way all MCOTMs and WOTMs are. I grappled with the decision to highlight her bisexuality... because of people like you. In the end, I decided to be true to the character. I've been dealing with people like you my entire life - in my personal life - never mind fandom. So let's educate.

Bisexuality is real - people.

Your ignorance in understanding it doesn't make it any less real. I am proudly bi, but trust me, it feels like a pretty shitty thing to be at times. You're never queer enough for many in the queer community, but you're too queer for those who aren't. There is no real safe space outside of a precious few who get it. And I mean few.

Your straight friends talk shit about you "doing this" to be "cool/get attention" or whatever... and they're "relieved" when you're in a hetero-presenting relationship. Your queer friends are happiest when you're with a same-sex partner, and if you're not, they accuse you of lying about who you are or "hiding." It's awesome. You know, instead of just having friends that are fucking happy if you're happy. People CAN BE and ARE attracted to more than one gender and the feelings/love we have toward both are real, valid and do not have to be explained to anyone.

Anyone who follows my MC (and I don't believe Nonny has) knows that Casey has been presented as bisexual from the day I entered this fandom. If some choose to ignore that, that's on them, not me. The fact that she is half of a pairing that is hetero-presenting does not make her any less bisexual. How ignorant are you?

Her profile clearly states she's bi. I've written about her being an activist for LGBTQ rights and about her reluctance about coming out to her parents (because she doesn't believe she should have to "come out," why is straight the default?). I've introduced her ex-girlfriend, Jessica, in fics and text fics, and discussed Casey's identity at length in numerous asks over the years.

So, yes, her current partner is a man, and he ends up being the love of her life. GUESS WHAT! THAT HAPPENS TO BI PEOPLE! And, TRUST, we know the privilege that comes with being in a hetero-presenting relationship. I've never once had someone throw something at me or hurl slurs when I've held a male partner's hand in public, but I've had it happen when my partner is a woman. But no one bi is "suddenly straight" because of it! And asking us to parade as hetero just because we're with an opposite-sex partner is pushing us into a closet - and I'm sorry, but fuck you - because no one belongs there.

Last June, I deliberately avoided all pride-related events in the fandom (NOT in real life). I did so because I was coping with the guilt that is tantamount to being bisexual. The "Should I put it out there. I mean, there are others who are more queer, right? I have no right to do this? Their characters are more important than mine, right?" And yeah, I've felt that way in real life, too. THIS is what it's like being bi. I'm out for decades, I'm comfortable and proud of who I am, I counsel younger people in the community that they are valid - and I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes right now because with all of that, THIS SHIT STILL CREEPS IN - largely because of s-bags like this Nonny.

So you know what, I'm not grappling with it anymore. It's pride month, and in real life, I'm celebrating to the fucking max. And you know what - I'm doing it in the fandom too. Casey is going to be as out and fucking proud as I want her to be, and if it makes your ass uncomfortable, well, that's not my fucking problem.

Re-read your ask, Nonny. The only disgusting person in this exchange is you. Do fucking better.

[xx-vergil-xx]

So I’m officially Crushed that Hounds is finished, even though the ending was perfect! So I’ll take the opportunity to respond to the writing style thing from earlier this week. Sorry if this is too random! I have 10 billion things I love about your writing, I’ll just pick out some that come to mind spontaneously

Thing 1, I love how you write supernatural beings! Genuinely alien and scary at first, but then we spend more time with them, and find such a human core to them. Like, the potential of the supernatural-as-metaphor is realized to perfection over and over again?

There’s something so recognizable in the way Desire toys with people, in Dream’s guardedness, in the Corinthian’s hunger. One example is in the Corinthian’s interactions with Daniel, the tension between experiencing sudden unexpected freedom, but registering it as rejection, as feeling obsolete and useless because who even are you when you aren’t needed…for him, that arises from his supernatural nature as a creature literally created for a specific purpose, but for me as a reader, it still speaks to something relatable and painful. Really great stuff

Thing 2, the references! To literature, poetry, myth, music, history…I just recently read “Underland” by Robert MacFarlane (warmly recommended) and he does something similar, to similar effect. It gives everything such scope, makes it feel so much bigger than the immediate story being told, like it situates the story in some Great Narrative about all of humanity, with the references connecting it all like a myriad mycelial strands.  

Thing 3 is that I love the way you word familiar things in an unusual way, which always feels like I’m getting some kind of revelation about what the thing’s essence is. I always struggle to put into words why a certain moment, or gesture, or landscape, or person makes me feel a certain way, and then I might encounter it in your writing and suddenly I’m like “Yes, finally someone gets it!” And I especially love it when the verb is doing the heavy lifting.  Random example, how to immediately capture the eerie vibe of a lonely nighttime street – “buzzing security lights futilely scratching at the darkness”.

Aaanyway this is way too long already, but I want to just thank you again for sharing your writing :) Hope you have a good weekend!

hi??? hello??? and what if i wept??? what THEN??? what if these businessfolk on this commuter train had to watch me sniffle with pure inexpressible joy???

but seriously — wow this really sent me reeling in the best loveliest most consuming way!! it is maybe the most richly validating feeling in the world to have someone point out bits of your work they love and it is genuinely such a gift — your time and your thoughts are of immeasurable wonder and i will stuff these praises in my pockets like treasured cool rocks from a beach <3

i am thrilled my supernatural creatures hit — in even my non-fic stuff i am absolutely fascinating by scales of humanity — by the way the immensely surreal and even the seemingly ahuman can contain with in it exaggerated mirrors of the truest human experiences. i love playing with that like bizarre distortion (especially w my baby cori, but all the endless were such a sublime opportunity to Mess Around With That), and then narrowing the aperture down to try and pinpoint the real, authentic humanity that the most inexplicable wildness can contain <- all that to say made me feel crazy wonderful that you liked the way i mucked about with the wild supernatural gang !!!! bodes well for my future projects <3

i am going to put underland on my library list!! i am such a sucker for intertextuality like what if words were a sculptural medium what if by compounding text on text on text you build a form greater than the sum of its parts ANYWAY gosh makes my spirit light and free to know you liked all that <3 <3 <3 i look forward with delight to reading that book!! (also mycelial is such a brilliant word thank you for reminding me it exists <3)

the moments of articulating specific little feelings are generally the ones i beat my head against the wall about the most and so it is genuinely so rewarding to know that they hit and they resonate <3 and verbs!! to the chagrin of some professors i tend to insist on giving descriptions active agency and it is again wonderously validating to know that that’s a vibe!!! thank you thank you thank you <3

this really make me feel like my body was full of light and i’m going to have a real killer of a day now <3 thank you so so so much for your kind words they mean everything under the sun to me <3

[macverse]

I got kudos on a fic I honestly thought I'd get dragged for! And there are 200 hits on What You Can See Now!!!

anytime there are notes on anything I post I am amazed.

I really thought I was gonna get hate for Backstage Pass considering...everything at the moment. UM, anyway...when I thought of the story it wasn't the actual end. I thought through the whole thing cause my brain won't let me not. I don't think I'm brave enough to write the beginning but there was this adorable part when Y/N door dashed a bunch of snacks and random things to Justin's hotel room so that the condoms wouldn't stand out in the order. mild food fight, giggles and chocolate smeared on skin happened. I also don't feel comfortable writing more on my Justin headcanon. he's basically been the physical embodiment of most of the males I write up until y'all got me writing Evans' fic. I've spent a lot of time analyzing who I think he is. it may or may not be correct. I'll never know but if I do find out WOW y'all will most likely hear about it. could you imagine! speaking of Evans, how about that spoiler I mentioned for the next part of the "What You..." series. I'm sorry I never posted it. I've more than I'd had then so I hope you'll forgive me. I got accepted at a new job and things got crazy!

spoilers below the cut (just in case you want to be spoiler-free and wait patiently for me to potentially post this in January cause I have a Christmas fic in mind)

--- Chris POV I'd never expected to see her that day at that park. I never expected to be there. I need to get out, to go somewhere full of people to drown out the ache of Y/N missing from my mind. Thinking back now, it's almost as if some part of me knew she was there and didn't want to push her out of my thoughts. Some part of me must have wanted Y/N back at the center of my focus. What is it that they say? You always see your ex on the days you look like shit? I wasn’t exactly looking like shit but I know I wasn’t looking my best. I almost didn't go out. I'd barely left my house save for food and beer since coming back home. When I did, I only wanted to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my sorrow. Alone with my pain. I wasn't taking care of myself and I didn't care but I could see it in my mother's eyes. I wasn't a wreck but I wasn't the man I'd become. I wasn't the man I had been changing into because Y/N was gone. She was the thing that was molding me, making me into the version of me I didn't know I was chasing. Without her, there was no reason to be him anymore. There was no reason to change. I was losing who I wanted to be at the same time as I was becoming consumed with thoughts of losing her. Although I never thought I'd see her, despite my friend's text, I can't say that I hadn't thought about what I'd say to her if by some chance I did see her. I thought it would be my only shot to get her back. I knew I needed to tell her how sorry I was. How much I needed her in my life. How empty I felt now that she was gone. How meaningless everything felt without her. I knew I needed to tell her but I never thought I would get the opportunity. I hadn't thought that the idea of getting her back could be real until I saw her sitting there. I knew I needed her. Y/N,  she was it for me. If I could tell her, I thought maybe something might change. I didn't know if it would work. As much as I realized right then that I wanted her back, I thought I deserved to have had her leave me, to be alone. I thought this was what I got for not paying attention, for not loving Y/N the way that I should. But seeing her sitting there, gazing in my direction, looking at me without seeing me. It was as if the universe put us in each other's way. As if it was saying, ‘Here she is and here you are. We put you in the same place and now it's up to you to complete your story.’

How could I ignore that?

---

so what do we think? please, I really think this might be a shit story. help!

[beardedjoel]

girl i just have to gush on you for how amazing ch. 20 of closer was. idk what switch flipped in joel’s brain during the night between ch. 19 and 20 but i am SO glad that this man is finally admitting his mistakes and actively trying to win her back.

the way they were texting each other this chapter, slowly building their relationship back up? i smiled every time reader did, like dammit i am falling for joel again too. you perfectly captured what it is like to be in that stage with an ex, where there’s still a lot of shit to unpack but right now you’re just taking it slow. it feels like having a crush again, waiting for their messages and getting excited when they call. i 1000% got that feeling reading this chapter and i loved every second of it.

i also am soooo proud of reader for not immediately taking him back, even though she wants to. i know joel is really trying but he hurt her sooo bad and he needs to really show her he’s all in this time before she gives in to him again. i love how you showed her struggle between missing him & seeing that he’s trying but also remembering how it felt when he left and wanting to protect herself. the phone sex with the guilt afterwards was soooo real, also so hot, i was obsessed with that part hahaha.

lastly i just want to say that i LOVE the way you have written joel in this arc of the story. i read a lot of fic where joel is an asshole and hurts reader in some way and tbh i feel like i am never satisfied with the way they end up getting back together. i love how you have made joel actually apologize and put in the work (for weeks!!) of trying to win her back and actually grovel a little. it will be so satisfying when they finally are back together bc we’ve had so much build up now.

OH WAIT sorry one more thing — i almost forgot about the letter in ch. 19!!! are they gonna talk about it at all? i hope they do, i was about ready to cry along with her when she read it 😭

anyways i’m sorry this was so long, but this story is so amazing and the last chapter especially was so good. i can’t wait to read the rest of it!! love you! 🫶🏻💕✨💖

omggggg ok SO MUCH to address here!!! thank you sooo much, i love hearing that you were feeling the emotions and feelings and everything along with the reader, that makes me so happy to hear omg. i've honestly been going through it with her while i'm writing too lol. and for the letter!!! i am definitely hoping to bring that back up again cause it was so sweet and important to reader so i wanna make sure joel hears about it 😭 aaa but yeah thank you again so much!

[pink-bandana-writes]

No Good, Very Bad Day

Raphael x Reader

Prompt: Perhaps, reader has been stressed and he wants to help them feel better. Even better if it’s a friends to lovers trope where they are just friends in the beginning but this changes the nature of their relationship.

Note: I also love the friends to lovers trope! Confession fics are among my faves. I hope you like it! Ignore the title, it’s very fluffy, reader is just going through it lol.

Warnings: swears

Word Count: 1.1k

Reader is: Female-ish. (one use of the word girlfriend, but that’s it lmao)

It had been one hell of a stressful day. For starters, your insurance had fucked up your therapy. Your landlord still hadn’t fixed your broken showerhead. One of the customers at work had been an asshole, and it really put you in a bad mood. Add to that the lingering Facebook request from your ex and yeah……just not the best day.

So, a little storm cloud seemingly hovering over your head, you sat in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket, wearing your comfiest pair of pajamas. You had some snacks on the coffee table, and you were playing one of your favorite video games on your Switch, hoping to get your mind off of the everything, even if only for a little while.

After a while of sitting there alone, you heard a tap on your window. It was too soft to be a rogue pigeon forgetting what glass was, so it meant one of four things. However, when you approached, you quickly realized who it was crouched just outside your fire escape.

You pulled open the window and helped Raphael inside. He came to hang out sometimes, but you hadn’t been expecting him.

“Hey, Red. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, just on patrol. Quiet night.” He shrugged. It took him a second, but once he got a better look at you, he could tell something was wrong. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…it’s been a really long day.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“No! No, Raph, seeing you has actually been the best part of my day so far.”

His look of panic faded, replaced instead with a warm smile. “Alright, so how am I makin’ you feel better right now? What problems I gotta fix?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He assured you, tilting his head. “So let’s get to work.”

You walked over to the living room and told him everything that was going on.

“Well first of all, that asshole at work can get fucked. It’s not yer job to fix all of his problems.”

You laughed, nodding. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

“I can take a look at yer showerhead if ya want. And you’re always welcome to take showers down in the lair if ya gotta.” He assured you. “I didn’t even know it was broken.”

“It’s usable, but it’s barely a trickle coming out of it.”

“Mmm, gotcha. Well, I’ll see what I can do. We can call Donnie and see if he’s got any parts we could use in the meantime. And I can totally have him yell at ya insurance guy, too. He’s real good at that, knows all the legal mumbo jumbo.” Raph walked through all of your problems, and, as he always seemed to, he made you feel a lot better about everything.

“Thank you, Raph.” You told him sincerely, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Aww, shorty, no need for tears. I’ll take care of ya. I always will.” He promised, gathering you in his big strong arms, one of his large hands stroking through your hair comfortingly.

Something clicked then, while he was holding you. You’d always had a bit of a crush on Raph, admittedly. Who wouldn’t? He was big and strong and brave, loyal to a fault, and always willing to fight for you, no matter the cost. He was…well, he was everything you were looking for, honestly. He always had been.

The two of you split. Raph went to work on your showerhead while you ordered a pizza and texted Donnie about your insurance fiasco. Once the pizza arrived and the shower was more or less fixed, the two of you settled on the couch again, putting on a movie and enjoying each other’s presence.

Maybe it was because you felt like you had nothing to lose after the day you’d had, or maybe you were finally coming to your senses, but you looked at Raphael and stated with certainty, “You know, you’d be a really great boyfriend, Raphael.”

He froze for a long moment before chuckling sheepishly. “Yeah? What gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know, you’re just…you’re the best. I really don’t know what I’d do without you in my life and…I don’t want to know.”

His eyes were wide, heart racing so loudly, he was sure you could hear it from where you were sitting. “W-what are ya saying?”

“I like you, Raph. I have for a while. But if you don’t feel the same, nothing has to change. I’m okay with this, too.”

Raph set down his pizza and stared at you like a third eye had sprouted on your forehead. “You’re bein’ serious right now?”

“Of course I am. Why?”

“Well, I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “I mean, look at me. You’re…You actually like me? Do ya need your eyeballs checked?”

“Of course I like you! Who wouldn’t?”

He scoffed. “Imma need you to elaborate on that.”

“Well for starters, you’re six-foot-five, super muscular, super handsome, but beyond that…you’re sweet. You’re kind, you’re a good listener, and you’re downright gentle when you want to be. You’re protective and brave and the most loyal and loving person I’ve ever met. You make me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met and I know that no matter what happens to me, you’ll always be there for me. Hell, you took the worst day I’ve had in a while and turned it around in twenty minutes.”

He stared at you for a long moment, kind of in shock. He forced a laugh so he didn’t burst into tears on the spot. “You’ve been keeping all of that tucked away in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Yep.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“You actually like me.” He stated, letting the pieces click. “See, just when I was starting to think my giant crush on you was hopeless…” He let out a little disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”

“So can I like kiss you now or…?”

Raph leaned over, crushing his lips to yours, cherishing the taste of them as your arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer to you. Raph pulled you into his lap, strong arms wrapping around your frame, your chest pressed to his. The way he kissed you left you breathless, and when you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, searching your eyes for any sign of disgust, but only finding love.

“Ya know, I think Mikey’s gonna be pissed I’m the first one to get a girlfriend.”

“And Casey’s gonna owe April like twenty bucks.” You said, causing him to laugh.

“So…ya still think I’m gonna be a good boyfriend.”

You nodded, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “The best, in fact.”

Taglist: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel

[thecameronchronicles]

Caress

TW: Mentions of toxic, emotionally abusive, and possessive relationship. Soft Smut. Soft Pope. Language. Angst from ex.

SUMMARY: Pope sets out to show you how you should be treated after your tumultuous relationship with Rafe has finally come to an end. 

WORD COUNT: 3900

*REQUESTED*

Anonymous asked:

Hi bestie! How are you? I hope you had a good birthday! Did you do anything special? 

Anyways, I have been thinking about Pope (well let’s be real, when am I not) and thought of a possible idea for a fic. It is long and has a lot of details so of course if you decide to write this, please change/ take out anything you want. 

So, you are dating Rafe and he treats you awful (because he is Rafe) and one day when Pope comes to deliver stuff to your house, he finds you crying on your porch and you tell him about all the stuff Rafe does and he comforts you and invites you to hang with him and the pogues (which takes some convincing jj, but overall they are happy to have you hang with them especially cause they see how different you act now vs before you started dating Rafe, especially because Sarah tells them stuff she has overheard Rafe say to you / about you to his friends) so you start hanging out with them more and Rafe finds out and gets angry at you and tells you to choose between him or them, and you don’t want to choose, so he breaks up with you. And you feel sad but also you realize you feel relieved in a way because you were too afraid to break up with him but of course still kind of sad, and you text Pope (who you have gotten the closest to since hanging with the pogues) and ask if he can meet up, and he again comforts you, and you’re really caught up in the moment and kiss him, but he does not kiss you back so you get embarrassed and are like “im sorry” and he’s like “please don’t be, I really like you, but you guys just broke up and you’re upset, I don’t want to do this just because I’m here and take advantage of your emotions, let’s just wait a little bit okay” and you’re like “okay. But I really do like you, Pope, you make me feel like I imagine how someone is supposed to feel in a relationship, not the stuff I felt with Rafe” and you guys just talk all night and spend the night together (literally just spend the night together haha) and you guys show up to hang with the other pogues together and they (who have all been silently rotting for you and rafe to break up and you and pope get together) are all like 👀 but you guys are like “no not like that. Yet.” 

With that being said, I don’t know where you could include smut, but it definitely needs it because you’re the smut queen, the only thing I can think of is a time jump to where after a few weeks after you break up with rafe, you and pope go on an official date and at the end of the date you guys have sex. And it’s not just rough fucking like how it was with rafe all the time, but instead he is very sweet and gentle and makes you feel loved. 

Anyways, like usual that was way too long but I hope it sparks some inspiration for a Pope fic! I know I say this all the time but again, thank you so much for your writing! I love reading all of your work.       - 💎

*HEY! THANK YOU SO MUCH! JUST CHILLED MOST OF THE DAY, SPENT IT WITH MY FAMILY AND RESTED. I HOPE YOU ARE DOING GREAT! I LOVE THIS REQUEST AND HOPE YOU ENJOY WHAT I DID WITH IT :)*

Caress

It wasn’t your first time, not by a long shot. But it would be the first time that you actually made love. This was because this interaction was more than just a sinister attraction to someone as toxic as he was habitual in practices of selfish ambition quelled by your want to make him happy. Instead, this was with someone you’d become close to during the fall of your relationship with Rafe. It was a chance meeting that now led to you sitting on the edge of the bed within The Chateau, unable to sit still, while the door slowly came open to reveal him to you. Sure, it wasn’t your first time, but it would be a first for you in so many other ways…

SIX MONTHS AGO.

You had always told yourself you loved Rafe and that was why you put up with it. And maybe at the beginning of your relationship, he had convinced you of this in the small ways he would leave you feeling important. But as the saying goes, ‘hurt people, hurt people’, and he seemed to do that to you more often than not. Belittling your comments and patronizing you every chance he got. But once alone, he would convince you that he was sorry and just ‘fucking around’, and you would be distracted in the rough sex that would be enough. At least it was until now…

“A-are you alright?” A soft voice suddenly called from your side as your eyes came to lift to Pope Heyward. He wasn’t a stranger, but also not much of a friend, as he was a polar opposite to the lifestyle you were born into. But in the handful of interactions you’d had, he was always kind to you, and this situation would prove no different. 

“I’m sorry-”

“What-why, I’m the one that just barged in..The front door wasn’t open…” He explained while holding up the delivery from Heywards that your parents had ordered the day before. Usually you were off somewhere with Rafe when he would fill this weekly order, but as fate would have it, he would find you at your most vulnerable. 

“But ARE you okay?”

You shrugged. “I’m sure you have a million other things to do.”

“Then consider this a million and one.” He spoke sweetly as you sat next to him, eyes darting to the direction of the front yard as you could only imagine how this would make Rafe crawl from his skin to know you were entertaining a ‘Pogue’ in any capacity. But you never cared for the rivalry or even really understood it as you hadn’t met a mean ‘pogue’, whereas the ‘Kooks’ were as entitled as they were ignorant, leaving you to feel guilty to wear the title yourself. 

“Are you sure?”

“Looks like you need someone to talk to and its been a bit since I could use my pearls of wisdom…” You scrunched your nose up at him for a second, his eyes catching at the adorable way you’d reacted, before his eyes darted away once remembering who you belonged to. 

“It’s just…I know what everyone thinks, okay? I know he’s horrible…But…It’s kind of like getting a car-” His brows raised, “It’s exciting and new…and all the little buttons and-” You paused, “Okay that’s not what I meant, I just mean that it’s the ‘new car smell’ and the excitement of where it could take you…but then after all that excitement…it’s…just another car. Does the same as other ones…maybe a bit crazier than others…” Pope slowly nodded. 

“But…When all the car does is let you down…you would rather walk everywhere else…”

“So why don’t you…walk?”

“Because my entire life is planned out for me. If it isn’t Rafe it’ll be Topper or Kelce or someone just like them…My parents would have a conniption if I even thought of stepping out of their ideas for me.”

“I get it…I mean…the want to please your parents…Which is why…” He pulled himself upwards before extending his hand. “I think we both deserve a night of walking. No obligations. No judgment-”

“What are you offering?” 

“Okay, enough with the analogies…You should smile…You shouldn’t be spending any day crying you're too…nobody should-” He corrected quickly as something within you, call it curiosity or even a small hope to piss off your boyfriend, but you accepted as he would leave the groceries as requested, before taking you to The Cut. 

“Absolutely fucking not!” JJ Maybank rejected your presence, making his way from the hot tub and to a towel, a warm beer positioned on the edge of a table stained without care. 

“In case you forgot, Pope, that’s Rafe’s girlfriend. I don’t want to deal with any damn Kook’s today-” He looked at you. “At least any more…” You wouldn't hear exactly what Pope said to JJ as he pulled him just out of earshot, but saw that it was enough to make him give in and cease his comments of cruelty. For that, it would be enough for you to find some form of comfort in this presence as you were otherwise welcome by the other pogues. 

You managed to convince JJ of the asset you could be to any social gathering, something you’d forgotten since you started dating Rafe as you became more of his shadow, and therefore becoming more of a ‘party queen’ than the quiet version of yourself that they had witnessed. But somewhere between beating JJ in shotgunning beers and relaxing enough to forget just how angry Rafe would be once he found out about your afternoon excursion, Sarah had informed the boys of just how her brother treated you. It was this that took their consideration of you and twisted it into pity, all while Pope’s eyes would linger to you longer than they should have for someone in a relationship. 

And this was how it would be for weeks. That weekly delivery from Heyward’s would act as an Uber of sorts as you sat excitedly on the steps for Pope, as he would lead you to The Cut, where you could forget of every tribulation. And it became this way until Rafe would learn of it. 

“The shit I have to put up with and I have to find out from a pogue that my girl’s spend all her time over there? When you should be with ME?!” Rafe charged at you, your arm in a harsh grip of his hold. 

“Rafe, you’re hurting me-”

“You want to dump me? You wanna go fuck those dirty pogues, hmm? You have to make a choice….Me or them…” The truth was, you were afraid to say anything. If you said ‘yes’, he would make everyone pay for this breakup, including Pope-the absolute last person you wanted to hurt. But if you denied it, he would claim you were a liar anyhow. 

“Forget it. I deserve better than this. I’m fucking done with you.” His words, that should have brought pain, would only bring relief. It was a key to your shackles to him. Since HE was the one to end it, you were free to do as you pleased. But to keep from leading him to any of the pogues to where he’d let his anger get the best of him, you would feign sadness before taking your car and going to The Cut. 

But when you arrived, The Chateau was empty. Not even a lazy JJ lounging in the hammock was nearby. So naturally, you would text Pope, as he was the main reason you’d returned to begin with. Feelings you had convinced yourself were merely friendship that had become so much more in such a short time. Deep conversations spoken beneath the stars as shared dreams of being more than your upbringings. But every time a line would almost be crossed in a traced finger or a gaze held a moment too long, Pope would always retreat. 

“Hey! I was just getting ready to head over-” He stopped himself once noticing how excited you were. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m…I feel free…”

“What’s the source of such liberation? Maybe you could steal me a bit of whatever it is?” He chuckled as your body felt light with excitement but heavy with need. The need to be near him…

“Rafe dumped me.” He stilled. 

“What? I’m sorry-”

“I should be, right? I should be halfway through a pint of ice cream or something by now, but I’m…I feel so…”

“Free?”

You nodded, chuckling as he would mirror your smile, something he found himself doing quite often whenever it cracked over your face. 

“I just want to dance in the rain and spend every second here just to piss off all of them…I want to…” Your eyes became locked on him as he marveled at you before him, vivacious and beautiful. Before you could correct your steps, you were moving towards him, his cheeks set between your palms and lips taken to yours. But instead of basking in this as you hoped, he would stop you both. 

“Whoa, uh-”

“Oh my God…oh my God…I’m so sorry I…” You paused, suddenly questioning every moment you’d shared. Regretting your steps, you pulled one back to the direction of your car as he was quick to apprehend you. 

“Please don’t go…”

“I didn’t mean it-”

“You didn’t?”

“I-Did you want me to?”

“Look, I REALLY like you…” Your angst faded into exhilaration as you breathed a sigh of relief. But this would quickly be met with reservation once again. 

“But this JUST happened today. And I just want to be sure this would be something you’d actually want-”

“It isn’t JUST today, Pope. It’s been every time we talk…about anything and everything….How you understand in a way they can’t…nobody else ever does…and the way you look at me like that…” His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Like I’m…special…”

“You are…Which is why I don’t want to take advantage of your emotions right now…” You slowly nodded.

“I-I get it…” You did. This was expected from Pope. The rational one out of the group. And in this particular instance, you hated him for it. You wished he would have taken advantage of your emotions, but if you were being completely honest, you were more happy that he hadn’t. 

“You-you don’t have to go.” He reminded. 

“Yeah I do…it’s…it’s gonna be weird now…And you have the groceries to-” He slid the bags over behind the hot tub. 

“What groceries?”

“Pope!”

“There’s nothing cold-I’ll just tell him I had problems with my dad’s boat…It’s conceivable…” You shook your head as your eyes locked once again. Only now, with the freedom to act on the way your eyes fell to his lips, parting in anticipation to what you both wanted. 

“Come on, we’re rectifying this!” JJ pulled you towards the fire, demanding a rematch to yet another session of shotgunning, where you would beat him yet again. But now, as you wiped your chin as Kiara and Sarah cheered you on, your eyes lingered on Pope as he watched you with pride. It was clear something had shifted, but still, neither of you would act on it. At least not tonight. 

“Thanks again for letting me stay here…” You said to John B as he nodded. 

“Anytime…Kind of a Pogue’s headquarters. And you are officially honorary…”

“We need to make a flag or something…” JJ added as your eyes shifted nervously to Pope before you slipped into the room offered to you by John B as the pogues would otherwise take the living room since you were the guest. Although you tried to fight them, they were adamant, and you became too tired to fight them. But as you slipped into the bedroom, having changed into a shirt lent to you by Sarah, you heard a knock come to the frame behind you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Pope asked nervously before leaning on the door’s frame, correcting his stance, and fidgeting with his fingers as he was clearly nervous. 

“Embarrassed.” He bowed his head. 

“I want to.” His eyes sourced the space separating you as you had to repress rushing to him and wrapping your arms around him, which was all you genuinely wanted. It didn’t have to be sex or even a kiss, just to know he wanted to embrace you just as badly as you wanted him to. 

“I just want to do it right. After knowing how he treated you…” He clenched his jaw. “I want to…I want to do it different-better…for you…” 

“Then can you stay with me?” He took a deep breath, not needing to understand the context before kicking off his sandals and laying on the bed beside you. Rather quickly you would begin to fall back into that comfortable conversation, discussing a mutual love for childhood favorites having been lost to time and ambitions both outrageous and impossible before eventually falling asleep on his chest. 

And this is what brought you to tonight. Having waited almost a week before even holding your hand, the idea of finally being granted this sexual relief after six months, had you anxious by anticipation alone. But that was because even in the minor moments with Pope, even though they were filled with such passion, were also so tender and lengthy. Everything with Rafe had always been to the point and based on him. A time when you thrived to please him, but, with Pope, he seemingly lived to do the same to you. 

“I have a toothbrush in there for you and some extra clothes for after…and…and um…We don’t have to if you-if you don’t want, I mean, I know we’ve talked about it…a lot…but I just want to make sure because after that…this changes things and I REALLY don’t want to screw us up or make you think-”

“Pope?” He swallowed hard. 

“Yeah?”

“Would you just kiss me?” He smiled as you met him at the edge of the bed, his lips pulled apart by the separation allowed by his tongue, before those moist and soft lips came to yours. As always, he began slowly, savoring your reaction and your taste, before his hands began to drift to your hips. But it was only for a moment before your smirk would force you apart. 

“I’m sorry…” He apologized with embarrassment as you would feel his erection already at attention for you. 

“Don’t be…please…But…I want to…” You began to play with his belt, his jaw clenching at the thought of your hand wrapped around him, as he would suddenly take hold of your wrist and pull it carefully between the two of you in a grip still firm but cautious to not bring harm. 

“I want to-”

“No…I’ve had to wait for this…we both have…And I want to take care of you…”

“Pope-”

“I want to take care of you…lay down for me…” The blazed lust behind his eyes, blown wide and at attention to you, made you acquiesce as he would move to his knees as he brought your legs apart. Licking his lips once again, he would guide his fingers up your thighs, beneath your shorts, before looking back up to you. 

“I need you to be honest with what you want-”

“You-” He smirked. 

“I mean what you like…I want to make it everything you want…”

“Then just don’t stop touching me…” You spoke through eyes heavy with your own lust as he would rise to kiss you, a collision of your mouths sending you to pull him deeper into you. But as you had met with him, he set you onto your back once again, bodies quickly entwined, before you led his hand to your thighs. 

“Please, I need to feel you…” He nodded. 

“Fuck…” You breathed as he smirked at how this minor touch had prompted such a response. He kissed you sweetly before moving small circuits of circles around your clit. 

“Please, Pope…I’m so wet-”

“I know…but I need something else first…” You watched him pull himself to his knees before taking each of your legs over his shoulders once removing your shorts slowly from your hips. 

“I want you to come on my face, baby…” Your eyes rolled at the idea as your fingers gripped tightly into the sheets. 

“Let my tongue make you feel good-” He was slow to start, luxuriating in your entire taste, before you bucked upwards. 

Everything felt like the first time. His touch. His kiss. His tongue. And to be fair, it was, in so many ways. Rafe was always sloppy and quick, doing so for the sake of a moment for himself, whereas Pope was calculated and thorough, ensuring you were sopping before he’d even think about doing anything for himself. 

“Jesus Christ, Pope-Please….Please, I want you…” You breathed heavily as he would deepen his sucks and curl the fingers now set inside of you,“POPE! OH SHIT!”

“Mmmm…mmhmm…mmmmm…mmmmhmmm…” He moaned into you, the vibrations sending you over that edge as your pleasure explored past your hips in painless waves of pure ecstasy. You trembled over him as he would use his tongue to clean up after this high, before you pulled him up to you. 

“Right now. Please, Pope…”

“Are you sure? We can wait-”

“I’m not waiting another second. I want you to fuck me…” But to your words, he shook his head. 

“No.”

“Pope!” You groaned as he collected your face between his hands. 

“I mean I’m not fucking you….THIS isn’t that. I’m going to make love to you, baby…Take my time…so you know every thrust is a reason I love you, not because I need to come or make you…not because we’re sorry or owe each other anything…” Tears formed in your eyes from such care. 

“You…you love me?”

He nodded, “Let me show you how much…” He slowly pushed himself inside of you, allowing you to adjust to him, thick and lengthy as he bottomed out with a second and third penetration, quickly finding a loving rhythm as your nails ate into his arms. 

“You feel so good, baby…Shit…” He bowed his head into your shoulder as you brought him into you with a kiss. 

“Please don’t stop…please…Oh my God…” He smirked for a moment before feeling you tense around him. Sweat and sweetness now between you, your passion forced the sheets and mattress itself to feel the extent of such desire, pulled and shifting behind his quickened thrusts. 

“I want you to come for me…” He spoke once setting his forehead against yours. “I need to make you feel good….I need to-”

“Come with me! Please-” You pleaded as he nodded, his body stiffening over you after those final thrusts pulled you both to that mutual edge with an orgasm deeper and more rewarding than any prior. 

“Was that-” Before Pope could ask, you crashed your lips into his once again before you pulled yourself to the end of the bed, extending your hand to him as his eyes fell to your naked frame for a moment. 

“What are you doing?”

“You might not want to fuck me, Pope…But it doesn’t mean we can’t make up for lost time…So…” You moved to the bedroom door, pulling it open, before moving across the corridor and to the bathroom. 

“Do you want to see how sweet I can be?” He paused before following you into the bathroom, the door closing with a slam as you took him into your arms once again, the perfect combination of lust, love, and logning found in his embrace. And this would be proven each time his arms found you in any scenario. He loved you. Sweetly. Perfectly. Deeply. Just as you had loved him in return.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[gingeraleluke]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗿 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ��

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: underground boxer!vinnie x fem!influencer!reader (social media + real life AU)

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: in which a girl in a leather jacket is the sister of a boxer whose new opponent gets under her skin.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, arguing, slight sexual harassment, drug use, drug addiction, mention of vomit

𝗔/𝗡: readers brother in this is blonde and white! you can interpret it as your biological brother or adopted, it’s open ended for you! while some things are inserted, this is still a reader insert fic.

THIS IS BASICALLY AN OC FIC BUT WITH YOUR NAME!!

thank you to @obliviatevamps for the idea :)

next chapter

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𝐼𝑁𝑇𝑅𝑂𝐷𝑈𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗸 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲. 𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹.

𝗛 𝗔 𝗩 𝗢 𝗞 𝗩𝗦 𝗛 𝗔 �� 𝗞 𝗘 𝗥

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Y/N:

INSTAGRAM: @ Y/NPICS 720K FOLLOWERS

TWITTER: @ Y/N 500K FOLLOWERS

TIKTOK: @ Y/N 1M FOLLOWERS

DRAKE:

INSTAGRAM: @ DRAKEHAVOK 59.8K FOLLOWERS

TWITTER: @ DRAKEHAVOK 20K FOLLOWERS

VINNIE:

INSTAGRAM: @ VINNIEHACKER 700K FOLLOWERS

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9:50 AM

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

new tweet from y/n

@ 𝙔/𝙉

big day today guys!! might get a huge sponsorship so wish me luck! :)

💬242 🔁101 ❤️2K

11:25 AM

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

new tweet from y/n

@ Y/N

never fucking mind :(

💬403 🔁200 ❤️4.6K

replies

@ userone: :( no queen what happened??

@ usertwo: ayo what

@ moriahhh: ?? call me

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“no, martha. it’s over! i fucked it up.” y/n hurriedly ran down the stairs, her clear heels clicking with each step. she could hear the roaring from the clouds from outside, even through the static of the phone. “benji was right, okay? i cant fucking do this shit, i’m just not ready for it i guess…” her anger seeped into sadness as her phone vibrated against her cheek. “fuck, i gotta go.” she hung up without saying goodbye and shoved her phone in the pocket of her ripped jeans, the papers in her arms untidy and crinkling under her arm.

“shit… shit.” she ran as fast as she could in her heels, pushing the glass door to the exit forcefully and was immediately met with rain and high winds.

curse the parking lot for being full.

she had to park her car almost a block away on the busy street and as if that wasn’t bad enough, a storm was now clearly brewing.

she tried her best to avoid the mud puddles in the cracks of the side walk and felt like an idiot walking by the passing cars. a huge gust of wind almost knocked her off her feet, and a few of the papers in her arm slipped out and into the atmosphere, flying away and being carried by the breeze.

“UGHH.” she audible groaned and said ‘fuck it,’ before letting all the papers go. the documents were useless anyway so it was pointless chasing after them, she just hoped mother nature wouldn’t be too mad at her. it is just paper anyway.

once she reached her range rover, she pulled out her phone and opened the text messages she received.

Bruno:

Okay, seriously please hurry. Idk what’s up with him

Are you on your way?

Helloooo??

He just fucking threw up on my shoes get here asap

jesus christ

“why does this shit happen to me…” she started angrily typing away.

yes, i will be there soon. sorry.

after she hit send, she got a notification from instagram, and instead of swiping up, she accidentally opened it.

@ vinniehacker is now following you!

the notification took her to his page and when she saw how many followers he had, her jaw dropped.

he was hot.

definitely not y/n’s type though. the more she looked through his pictures the more he reminded her of her ex. he must have just been famous for being pretty. he had almost as many followers as she had but he wasn’t verified like she was. clicking on a shirtless pic, she ran her eyes down his chest. a spider tattooed right in the center of his build and little tattoos scattered here and there. she scrolled back to the top of his page and hit the follow back button. she thought nothing of it. just a kinda cute guy who she had no intention of ever talking to.

definitely not my type. she thought before driving away.

as y/n walked into the gym, she was met with her usual wolf whistles from men, despite how awful she looked from the weather.

she walked up to the tall brunette, “alright where is he?”

“damn, y/n! no hello? it’s been a while-“ he starts laughing as he towers over her, placing down the weight he was previously holding and trailing his eyes down her body.

“roman, shut the fuck up, where is he?”

“he’s in the back with bruno. you should’a saw it, your brother is a mess.”

“yeah wonder whose fault that is.” she walked by roman, shoving him with her shoulder as she passed. she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit. it’s not like she ever likes taking to him, but she especially didn’t right now.

she reached the back and walked by a bunch of shirtless boxers, each of them dripping in sweat. she hated being there. she always felt so teeny around men, like she was a mere mortal yet they were gods. it pissed her off how she felt this way, knowing that she was just as powerful as a man, yet still had that tremble in her step whenever she was near one, and this janky and highly illegal gym was soaking with testosterone that she didn’t want to dip her feet in.

“oh, god.” she was met with the sight of Bruno cleaning his shoes from her brothers sickness.

“yeah, oh god!” he was clearly fuming and y/n could already feel the stress start to pile on her shoulders.

“i’m starting to think that I shouldn’t help him anymore! i mean, how the hell am i supposed to help him accelerate through heavy weight opponents when the fucker is a lightweight?! did you give him something?”

y/n shifted her weight to her other foot, standing their awkwardly in heels. she wore a white tee with slightly teared jeans and a light blue plaid blazer. it was nothing like her usual wear, and she felt almost naked without her iconic leather jacket. it was a staple in her style and when her fans saw her mirror selfie on instagram this morning, comments were flooding with questions about where he jacket was. she wanted to look nice for her first ever business meeting, but clearly things didn’t go as planned. “no! he didn’t drink a sip last night, i was sure of it.”

“yeah, well…” he sighs and stands up before walking down the hallway. “you gotta take him to the doctors or something- somethings wrong with him.”

y/n kissed her teeth and nodded, following him.

“drake! your sister is here.”

“ughh whyyy?” he groaned while getting up from a weight bench.

“i don’t know, drake, why am i here?” y/n had her teeth clenched and stared him down, she was irritated.

he locked eyes with his younger sister, and his face immediately faltered, his eyes going soft.

bruno walked away, leaving the siblings standing there, arms crossed.

drake shook his head and turned towards the door to the basement.

“no, no, no, where are you going?” y/n yelled, fed up with his shit.

“chill, i just have to put my gloves up.” she slightly frowned and followed drake down the basement stairs, after watching him undo the lock with his key.

“make sure you give bruno his key back….” her shoes balanced on the creaky steps as drake reached up to pull the chain and turn the light on. he was tall and it dangled right next to his head and the light seeping from under the crack of the door made it not hard to find.

“actually, i don’t have to!” the blonde turned to look back at his sister as she heard a clicking noise and his face was suddenly illuminated. he had a huge grin on his face and waited for y/n’s reply.

“wait. you got in?”

he gave her a small smile before turning around and continuing down the stairs. “technically no. i haven’t been accepted yet, but i find out later tonight! i’m sure they’ll say yes, i mean look at me.” y/n snorted and replied “don’t get your hopes up.”

“hey!”

she chuckled as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“okay, hurry up. I want to go home and eat, i’m starving and missed lunch…”

“calm down!” he walked through the basement, a huge ring in the center of it and lockers towards the back. this was where the fights took place. she had been there quite often and gotten used to the weird smell from watching her brother fight in the small stands.

as she made her way towards the lockers, she saw a huge, no, GIGANTIC sign on the wall that said in big capital letters,

H A C K E R

“the hell is this?” she pointed towards it and looked over to see drake rummaging around in his locker.

“oh, that? that’s the guy i’m trying to fight.”

“hacker?”

“yep.” he slammed his locker before looking through the pocket in his pink hoodie. “fuck, i gotta go to romans tonight.”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows and scrunched her nose, “what? why?!”

“i’m outta the stuff. i gotta pick up a new cart.”

“okay hello??” he started walking by her and towards the stairs. “you got sick today for the fifth time in the past month. you said it wouldn’t affect your work-“

“and it hasn’t.”

“bullshit!” she stomped up the stairs following him out the front door.

once they reached his car, she continued talking.

“are you fucking stupid? drake why do you think you got sick in the first place?”

he shrugged, opening the trunk to his car and putting his work bag in it.

“i dunno. germs?”

y/n rolled her eyes, “it’s that shit romans been giving you. he’s milking you dry!”

“nah it’s safe, trust me.” he ran his hand through his blonde locks.

y/n gave up. it wasn’t worth the argument.

“fine! but the next time you get sick at the gym, i’m not helping you.”

“fine!”

he opened the door to the car and immediately shut it.

“i need your car.”

oh my fucking god.

“im sorry what? fuck you, no it’s my car! use yours!”

“come on!! mines a piece of junk and you know it.”

“well maybe if you got yourself a real job instead of living off of your little sister than you would have a nice one like me.”

drake just looked at her, waiting for her to cave in. y/n felt her stomach start to growl.

“fine.” she handed him the keys as he walked to her car and sat in the front seat. “but you owe me! you’ve been treating me like shit recently..” he just nodded.

“wait!”

he stuck his head out the window, his blonde hair draped over his face. “what?”

“wh-what about dinner?”

drakes face became confused as he wondered what she was talking about.

“what about it?”

“well… it’s your turn to cook tonight and i had a bad da-“

he turned on the engine, cutting her off.

“just order pizza or something!” he shouted.

y/n looked down at the ground and just nodded, her feet still killing her. she watched her older brother back out and drive away before she got in his piece of shit car and made her way to their shared apartment.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

7:06 PM

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

new tweet from y/n

@ Y/N

just ate a whole pizza. feeling angry and kinda want to punch someone 😃

💬600 🔁235 ❤️2K

replies

@ userone: OMGG PUNCH ME PLEASE IM BEGGING 😩

@ usertwo: I VOLUNTEER PLEASE

@ userthree: RUN ME OVER

@ usedfour: why are you angry? who am i killing 🥰

7:16 PM

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

new tweet from drake

@ DRAKEHAVOK

i have the best sister in the world :)

💬4 🔁20 ❤️272

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after eating her last slice of pizza, y/n muted her television which was playing reruns of friends. she could feel the vibration of her phone ripple through the couch, and she picked it up to see Moriah was calling her.

“hey.” she picked up her soda and started drinking it.

“y/n, did you see what drake said?”

“what? no? i was busy watching friends, why what did he do?”

“check twitter.”

moriah was a local graphic designer that y/n met two years ago. they immediately hit it off and have been inseparable ever since. it was nice having a girl friend. while she loved her other two besties, zach and quinn, (who she calls ‘the gays’ since they are the cutest couple ever), she needs that girl talk sometimes and despite how feminine zach is, he just didn’t fully get it.

when she saw drakes tweet, she immediately rolled her eyes and typed a reply;

quote tweets

@ y/n: suck my nuts

she watched as hundreds of people started to reply and retweet. honestly, she didn’t care at this point. her brother was being a dick and he knows it.

“i cant fucking believe him.” moriah said over the phone.

“i can.”

“anyways… are you coming with the gays and i to that pool party thing in the hills?”

“umm yeah i think so? i don’t know, zach asked me if i wanted to be in his vlog for friday so i’m guessing yes. why did quinn ask you?” y/n started fiddling with her hands.

her phone buzzed.

“hold that thought, i got a text.”

“ok.”

y/n couldn’t contain the scoff she made when she saw the notification.

“what?”

“mo, guess who texted me…”

“drake?”

“yup!”

Drake 🐼

hey, i’m staying at romans tonight so….

do you need your car for tomorrow??

“what did he say?”

“he said he’s spending the night at romans…”

she could hear mo laugh on the other end. “yeah i know, my brothers a fucking joke.”

are you staying because you’re wasted?

nope

promise?

yep

do you need your car or not?

“why does he have your car?”

“i don’t know, probably because he likes to piss me off.” y/n grabbed a hair tie and put her hair up before typing, while mo went on about her day.

i guess not.

just don’t fucking wreck it or i stg

lol

the two girls stayed on the phone for a while, gossiping about tiktoker drama, when y/n got a call from her brother.

“ugh, it’s drake i gotta go.”

“okay!” she chirped, chewing something she was eating, “just let me know when you want to meet up.”

“okay. love you, bye.”

she answered the phone and could hear cheering coming from the speaker, pulling the phone away from her ear at the noise

the fuck?

“oh my god, y/n!”

“yeah? what?”

incoherent voices and more screaming muffled whatever the fuck her brother was telling her.

“drake, i can’t hear you.”

“oh? fuck hold on!”

drake walked into another room and started speaking.

“check the gyms new post!”

“what wh-“

“just do it!!” and with that he hung up.

when y/n pulled up the instagram and saw the most recent post, her eyes went wide.

holy shit

“DRAKE HAVOK WILL BE FIGHTING WITH VINNIE HACKER”

the picture was of her brothers face and some other guy who she assumed was vinnie and had a huge vs in the middle of them.

that must be what the whole hacker thing was about..

he looked familiar. she found herself staring at the picture, but not looking at drakes face, just vinnies. studying every inch of his pixelated face. his name sounded familiar too.

the picture was only posted six minutes ago, which explains why drake called.

he must be so excited

her phone buzzed with a new instagram dm.

when she saw who the message was from, her heart dropped. she connected the dots.

it’s him

she opened the dm to see that the man her brother was scheduled to fight, was the guy she was thirsting over earlier.

oh fuck.

her heart was racing as she read the message.

vinnie:

your brother will be dead by the time i’m done with him.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read part one here.

---

It doesn't snow in Santo Padre.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That had gone famously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I care, Frida.”

“... and if I wanted you back?”

“Please, querida.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he fucking serious? 

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t about to cave so easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. And you were doing so well. 

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel was silent for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are something, Frida.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded toward Angel’s arm once more.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How could something about you not be beautiful?"

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had outdone herself. You felt gorgeous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he only knew. 

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

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

And he saw you, too.

Oh fuck. 

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

He fucking wouldn’t. 

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

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

Fuck, you were hot when you were mad.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he … drunk? 

Fuck this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel flinched. 

“I deserve that,” he said. 

Strike two. Too little, too late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strike. Fucking. Three. 

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

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

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

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

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

Ice cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus fuck!” Angel yelped. 

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. 

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

Well, shit. 

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

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

Not much got past Johnny “Coco” Cruz.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel ignored his question. 

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

“No hug for me, jaina?” 

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

You recovered quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coco snorted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who says I want anything,” EZ asked?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel sighed before he spoke again, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that,” Angel snapped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

Huh. Unexpected  Should you open it? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. 

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

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

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

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

There. Short, sweet, and to the point.

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

"Gracias, Frida."

"Don't thank me yet."

You put your phone down flat on the counter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Angel noticed, he hadn't said anything.

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. "Suit yourself."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided to take conversational mercy on him, 

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. 

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

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

It made Angel’s heart ache in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. At your scoff, he shook his head. “Really. After Adelita told me she was pregnant … I thought it was easier just to let you go. I needed to be there for her, for the kid. Even if it meant -- even if it meant losing you.” 

“Easier for who? For you?” Your voice was soft. You hated that, once again, you felt like the crystalline girl Angel’s heartbreak had rendered you. Worried that the slightest thing would shatter you once more. 

Angel chucked again, but there was no humor behind it. His eyes looked flat, as though he wasn’t really focusing on anything. 

“For both of us, I guess. It’s stupid. I thought if I just -- cut you out … we would both be better. But … that ain’t what happened. I just made us both miserable. I made you hate me. And now ...  She's gone. And so are you,” Angel’s voice was low, cracked. 

The weight of his words, coupled with the gravelly pitch of his voice was making you feel restless, itchy. Grit like pebbly grains of sand you would roll between your fingers on days at the beach, palpable and pronounced.

“A-and,” you interjected, “how did you meet her? When did you meet her?” 

Angel’s eyes darted to meet yours again, finding a swimming emotion he was getting better at putting his finger on. You only looked like that when you were getting lost in negative thoughts, awash in a sad song. Or when he was breaking your heart. He hated that look on your face. Hate that it marred your beautiful features into baleful melancholy. 

“Club shit,” was all he’d said. “We were mixed up in some shit with the rebels. We were helping each other. W-we connected. It just … happened.” 

You whipped your head at that last bit, eyes hardening. Angel’s hands came up, defensively.

“I know. Everyone says that, don’t they? It’s true… and I -- I really didn’t mean to hurt you. When I found out she was pregnant, I thought I was doing the right thing. By her. And by you,” he sucked air in through his teeth before releasing the breath in a huff of air. “I was wrong, Frida. I made every wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”

Angel carded his hands through his hair, tugging the ends lightly in his frustration. “I-- I just been going through some shit lately. And then ... Ezekiel tried to serve us brunch, and I was an asshole.” 

He looked at you, only to meet your puzzled gaze.

“Brunch?” You queried, wrinkling your nose lightly. “Since when are you a brunch kinda guy, Angelito?” 

“I really ain’t,” he said. “And you?”

“I like brunch just fine,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“That’s not what I mean, Frida, and you know it,” he said. “But we can get back to that later.” He took in your loose sweats, the way you had been picking your nails, the bags beneath your eyes. You had looked so beautiful, so perfect and untouchable,  at the patch party the other night. And now -- in your room, all pretense stripped away, Angel could see the real you … behind the professional and put-together front. The tired girl with a broken heart. And he felt the residual ache in his chest that had taken residence left of his heart ever since the day he had put your stuff in a box and left it outside of his door. 

“I know you have something you want to say to me, too, Frida. Your turn. How are you feeling?”

You laughed hollowly, your eyes fixed on the doorway to your room, half expecting Angel to get up and go.

“I’ve been better, Angel,” you deadpanned, swiveling to look at him, and finding him still seated next to you. “Ya know? It’s been a tough couple of days? Between that disaster of a party and whatever the hell went down the other day… but this town is too small for us to just try to ignore each other, and I do like it here.” You rubbed your eyes, the air between the two of you filling with silence that never used to be so awkward.  

“That can’t be all you gotta say,” Angel pressed. “C’mon, Frida. Tell me how you’re feeling. I was… I was awful to you.”

The candle in the corner of the room sputtered, causing momentary, flickering shadows to dance along the walls of your room. Your safe, homey space felt full of shadows and ghosts, words unspoken between the two of you threatening to burst forth, your closet brimming with proverbial skeletons. 

And you were just so tired. And now Angel was pressing you? You weren’t sure if the heat was from your sweats, the proximity of the man next to you, that you had turned up the thermostat too high. Or the fact that you were still so fucking angry. 

“You want to know how I’m feeling, Angel?” You tugged on the ends of your hair, running your hands down the thighs of your sweats once more. Were you always so sweaty? “I appreciate you telling me the truth. Finally. And for apologizing, I guess.”

Tears were pricking at your eyes, the heat blazing in your cheeks matching the heat in the room.  

"But you made me look stupid. Like someone in need of pity," you sucked air in through your teeth. "I fucking hate pity, Angel. It's just misplaced empathy. A useless emotion. And you’d think I’d just wear that mess? For everyone to see? At the party. At the yard. Everyone just feeling sorry for me. For months. Because of you.”

The ache in Angel’s chest intensified. Awash in a wave of hot shame. Was it always so hot in this room? You were right. And weren’t you always? You never were that girl, and he had sent you down the river like you meant nothing, your artist’s hands crushed beneath the washed stones of his choices. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done, apparently --

“And after everything? The way it went down? You made me feel like … I don’t know … Like you were punishing me,” your voice cracked, sobs and tears imminent through the dam you had erected. “Like I loved you more than you loved me, and you knew it… like you wanted to make me pay for that.” 

“Frida …” Angel turned his body toward yours fully now, closing the space between the two fo you and cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the silvery hot tears that were slipping down your face, sick that he had caused them. Sick that he had even made you think that what you were saying was true. “It wasn’t like that,” he assured. 

“And the shittiest part is,” you hiccuped around your words, “you can’t even tell me give me the comfort of a cliche -- you can’t honestly tell me ‘it meant nothing,’ or that it was a ‘one-time thing,’ because none of that is true, is it? You care about her -- you had a child with her. You love her. And here I thought I could take what you did, take you, fold you up and tuck you away, like a note you pass in school. And I can’t. I just can’t.”

You tilted your face downward now as your tears fell, allowing your face to be fully cupped by Angel’s warm, calloused hands. Even now, you were still amazed at how tender his touch was, despite his rough exterior. All he wanted now was to comfort you, to touch you and bring your eyes to his again. To remind you of his love for you. Once. Now. Always?

“Frida, it wasn’t like that. They were my selfish, stupid choices. Mine. And I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted … everything with you. And it wasn’t right. I told you -- I … been going through some shit.” 

“Scared,” you murmured. Turning your face in Angel’s hands, causing your lips to brush over his fingers. You leaned back, effectively releasing your face from the trace of his touch. 

“Isn’t it remarkable how secure and insecure you can simultaneously feel when you’ve found someone worth loving? I felt it, too. With you  it's now I knew you were the one,” You said. Angel straightened in shock, at how, though you weren’t present for his conversation yesterday with Ezekiel, you parroted his feelings he had confided in his brother back to him. Always on the same page. His full lips pursed as you continued. 

“We can’t keep using what happened to hurt each other. I’m done with that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you felt the way you did. I’m sorry you felt like you needed to look elsewhere. And I hope you find what you're looking for,” you hated how soft your voice sounded to your own ears. Hadn't you meant to be forceful, angry? You sniffled. “Because, despite everything that’s happened...  You are someone worth loving, Angelito.” 

"No, Frida," he shook his head softly before looking at you again, eyes glittering. "You are. Someone deserving of more.”

Your breath caught in your chest at his words, taking this moment to look into his ochre eyes once more. You wanted to commit to your memory just how they swirl like melting chocolate and promises in low candlelight.

And, oh. Angel was made to be seen like this, you’d thought. The dim candlelight giving everything in your room a pleasant glow and slightly-blurry edges. He looked like his namesake. And how ironic was that, really? Considering the context of your conversation. 

It's easy these days, you thought, for you to get carried away by your own feelings... While you searched desperately in the emotional rubble for your muse, Angel, the truth of it tore you to shreds with blunt fingernails -- knowing he was  out in the world -- running freely and carelessly. Running away with your imagination. With your hope. With the pieces of your heart that had survived the blitzing storm he had put you through. With the pieces of your heart that had belonged to him. That you feared may always belong to him.  

Looking at Angel now, in the low-lit steadfast luminescence of your room, shadows flickering agreeably across his angular cheekbones. He was sculpted. Made to be admired in perpetuity. Artist that you were, it ached. It stung. The knowledge that your hands were not the ones that had molded him into the man sat beside you. A man molded, instead, by his own choices. 

All you could do was watch as those wrong decisions drifted lazily down the river, only to become a torrent, Angel caught in the current. The waves lapped loudly, sloppily against riverbanks of better judgment, but Angel is never quite washed ashore. No, as you watched, he slipped down the river, out of your fingertips and toward something you're too fearful to quantify. Away from you. 

You want the river to carry him back to you. To home. But you know it never will. 

Angel has two choices now: To drown under the weight of his path this river has wrought; or to swim. 

As you sit beside him in the growing heat of your room, you hope he chooses to swim. Even if it’s not to where you stand. 

"So, is that what’s next?” You asked, wiping your eyes. 

At Angel’s puzzled look, you carried on,

"You're asking for it back," you whispered. “Or you’re going to. My heart? You may not have said it like that, exactly, but it's what you want. Like you don't know how bad it all hurt me, even if you say you know, I don't think you ever will. And even if I wanted to give it to you, I don't know if there's enough of it left."

You wrung your hands together, awaiting Angel’s response. You looked up at him through your lashes, clumped together with the tears that had escaped during your confessional. 

His molten eyes were soft on your form, swallowing before he spoke again. 

“I was such an asshole… to you. And at that stupid brunch … to Gaby. But it was all just … too much. I mean, she was wearing mom’s apron…” Angel shook his head. “And all I could think of … Even with Adelita out there, with her and my boy gone, outta my life… all I could think of was how it should be you wearing the stupid apron. It should be me giving you my mother’s ring. And I was so angry at Ezekiel for having all of that. For having what I wanted … wanted with you.” 

If there was any air left in the room, it was certainly all gone now. All that was left was heat, no air or space between the two of you. Just stagnant air and the weight of words, both said and unsaid. And if Angel had said these words to you more than a year ago? Maybe they would sound different to your ears. Melodious, even. 

Now, all you could think to do was comfort. Ever the nurturer. What else could you do, really, after he'd said that? You shook your head gently, lacing your fingers through Angel’s and squeezing. 

“It’s not that he has something you don’t, or that you can’t have, Angel… What EZ and Gabriela have is what they have. It’s theirs. You’ll have yours. Someday.”

Silence descended upon the room once more. The warm scent of orange-cinnamon from your candle permeated the room, the ever-present heat between you and Angel banishing all thoughts of romantic winter from your mind. 

“I just wanna say, again, Frida… how sorry I am for what happened at the party. For what happened with Andres. It was fucked up of me,” Angel’s tongue passed over his lips. “Did I answer all of your burning questions?” 

You reached over, trailing your fingers over the tattoo you had given Angel what felt like a lifetime ago.  His eyes followed the trajectory of your fingers, his nerves alight at the feeling of your starlit, feathery touch on his skin once more.

"Just one left.” Your eyes locked with his, unwavering. “Who am I to you, really?" You ask, the edge your silken voice had taken on slides beneath Angel's skin clumsily, like crumbling shards of glass. "What did I mean?"

Angel tries not to look at you now. Tries, but fails. His dark eyes meet your downcast ones once more, hates that they are once more glimmering with unshed tears waiting to fall. Hating that once again, he's the cause of the dreary blue tinge shading what should have been your sunny, hopeful worldview. Awash with the sunsets he would take you to see. 

And if there was any time for blossoming truth, for a sprig of rosemary remembrance of sacred feeling, it was now. 

"You're the love of my life," he finally admits, exhaling heavily. "That's just it, ain't it? Always you. And not that I have any right to ask you now -- But I need to know, Frida. Am I yours?"

Any air left was sucked from the room in one fell swoop, leaving you with the stuffy and sticky discomfort of Angel's question and the weight of his heated gaze on you, waiting for something, anything to fall from your pretty lips.

And what a question it was. 

You knew the answer, of course. You reach up to brush your thumb tenderly across Angel’s sculpted cheek, as though you could be the one molding it, nodding before verbalizing your answer,

"You've always been the love of my life. Had my heart. I'm yours, But, I think I know now… that�� you were never truly mine. Even if you say it now. You have a heart that's not so easily won, Angelito. That's something I wish I'd learned sooner, wish I could've taken from you… from all of this." 

All Angel could do was shake his head, the crease in his brow deepening at your words. 

"Ever the poet, Frida."

"I thought I was a 'shit' poet?" You teased gently, recalling his words to you when he’d texted you to ask you out for the first time. 

Angel chuckled, the grit and honey in his voice washing over you, a wave of silken heat, his eyes are fixed upon yours intently, leaning forward and bringing his hands to trace along your neck, your jaw, dragging his thumb over the full, pillowy part of your bottom lip. 

“You did win it, Frida,” was all he said. 

The rush of warm, fluttery feeling swam through your body, prickling you like sparkling, popping champagne. Angel’s eyes tracked yours, down to where his thumb was dragging across your lip. Your eyes slipped shut, lashes fluttering. 

You could feel it rushing back. Everything Angel had ever made you feel -- the ardor, the frustration, the crushing weight of the river wild. Heat bloomed across your cheeks and down your chest, between your thighs and through the fingertips that you had brought to grip Angel’s biceps. 

His declaration of love, of melted marshmallow and warm cocoa -- made you crave him in a way you had long thought gone. 

You pressed your lips to kiss the tip of Angel’s thumb. You were rewarded with a reciprocal, sucking in of air on Angel’s part. 

He held his breath momentarily before surging forward and capturing your lips with his full ones. 

You were awash in the memory of every kiss shared with Angel. Of how he’d made you feel in your full-hearted moments together. Rich and full, like morning coffee. Hazy and sweet, like cherry smoke.

Angel’s kiss makes you feel dizzy, fizzing and dissolving simultaneously, like a Mento in a glass of Coke. Volatile and thrumming, both erupting and disappearing so fast, you were afraid you’d never have the chance to process exactly what it made you feel. 

It might be okay, you reasoned to yourself -- if you could hold Angel just for one more night, feel his body pressed against yours. It felt like a good idea in this moment, just to hold him for one  night only. 

Your lips pressed against one another, his hand cupping your jaw trailing back to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging it -- causing your kiss to break. Angel trailed his lips from yours, down and along your jaw. 

Angel’s grip firmed, turning your head further as he continued his attention down your neck, giving you a view of the chair next to your closet where you had haphazardly thrown Angel’s t-shirt when you had worn it last, a symbol of comfort now worn-out. 

You laid back, Angel following, surging over you and pressing you into your cloudlike comforter. His hips rolled into yours, his teeth now scraping gently along the slope of your neck. 

At the gasp you emitted, Angel felt himself harden in his jeans. He'd thought he'd never hear that sound from you again. And replaying the memory of it in his head? Not enough. He rolled his hips into yours again, again, as you dragged your thighs up Angel’s sides, locking your legs around his hips. He trailed warm hand down to caress your breast through your soft t-shirt, leaving a heated trail in its wake. 

“Oh, Angel,” you gasped, rolling your hips to meet his. 

“Can I kiss you like this, amor?” Angel rasped, “I’ll make you feel good.” 

He took in the heat behind your eyes, the kiss-swollen state of your lips when he broke from them. The creeping heat he felt from beneath your collar in his position atop you, and the way your breasts heaved beneath your shirt. 

The thread of resolve you were hanging by seemed to dissolve, leaving you unraveled and threadbare, naked before the man you swore would be your forever. The ache you felt between your legs burned crimson, cloudy and acrid. You tasted Angel’s kiss, tasted him, on your tongue.

You were never more aware of the dimensions of your body than when Angel had his hands on you, tracing and gripping every curve, the touch of places you don't think to touch yourself, strange but pleasurable as you relished in the trace of his rough fingertips against your smooth skin. He slid his hands down your waist, hips and into the loose waistband of your sweats, sliding them down your legs as he went. 

Angel played your body with temerity, a confidence, and before you knew it, your lower half was bare before him. He pushed the soft, loose fabric of your t-shirt up and over your chest, trailing his lips over your now-exposed skin, bringing his other hand to cup your breast, circling the pad of his thumb over your nipple. 

You gasped and groaned beneath Angel’s attention. Gripping at the hem of his shirt, you tugged it up and over his head, trailing your hands down his firm, thick torso. 

Angel was reticent to deprive himself of your touch after not having had it for so long. The touch of your nimble, artist’s fingers trailing over the lines of his body made Angel feel like an instrument being plucked to a tune that made both his and your body sing. He thought he would never feel it again.

 But this moment? This was about you. 

 Angel gripped your wrists, firmly planting your hands next to your head, following the trajectory and leaning over you with his full body. Releasing your wrists, Angel firmly pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue swiping past your lips and invading your mouth. Hot, needy, dirty. 

Ange tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing lower and lower down your body, kissing your hips, nipping at your hipbone, causing you to yelp and buck your hips.

The action drew Angel’s attention, lifting his lips from your body, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I missed you, baby. Did you miss me? Sweet girl...” His voice was lower than you think you’d ever heard it, dangerously so. 

Bringing his hand down to cup your mound, he traced his fingers through your slick folds.

“Ah-Angel,” you gasped, tilting your head back at the blissful feel of Angel’s touch. As quickly as his touch had come, he withdrew it, causing your eyes to snap open, fixed on him and full of fire. 

“You know how this works, querida. I won’t touch you unless you answer me,” he taunted, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over where you’d wanted him most, staunch in his refusal to commit to the touch. 

“God, Angel, yes,” You gasped. “P-please.”

Angel rewarded you, prising apart your legs and sliding down your body, tracing a teasing lick of his tongue through your folds, increasing in pace and intensity at the noises passing through your lips.

"I d-do miss you,” you sighed, starting to roll your hips against Angel’s tongue. “I miss the way you touch me… the way you fuck me.”

God. It was hot, the way you talked, the way you gave yourself over to him. 

Stars and firecrackers popped behind your eyes at Angel’s attention, cinnamon heat seeping through your bones, writhing and twisting at the way Angel strung his way through your body. Unable to justify the concept of being left alone, you tugged up at Angel’s jaw, forcing him to look up at you. Met with your wanton gaze, Angel licks his lips at the sight of you and slides back up your body with a grace that defies his size. 

Now level with you once more, he gripped your jaw, turning your head to the side and attacked your neck, your breasts with renewed vigor, grinding his denim-clad hardness against your naked core, the painful drag of the fabric turning pleasurable. 

With your gaze turned toward the wall, you were once again greeted with the sight of Angel’s rumpled t-shirt on the chair by your closet. An object of comfort, threads and strings tying you to a past life.   

What were you doing? Taking comfort in something that you couldn’t, in good conscience, call your own?

The rumpled shirt seemed to be mocking you, taunting you. Reminding you that, once again, you were seeking clinging to something you shouldn't. Seeking solace in things -- people -- that you shouldn't. 

Apart from Christopher's warm, sly, sensational goodnight kiss the other day, Angel's was the first touch you'd experienced like this since, well, Angel… How easy it was to slip back into your feelings for him, get caught up in him.

I'd give it all just to hold you close, sorry that I broke your heart... You shouldn’t be doing this. 

“Angel,” you prised his lips from your body. “St-stop.” 

Angel’s eyes were wild, hair mussed and lips swollen.

“What, querida?” 

“Angel,” you sighed again, sliding your shirt down and coming to sit up. “We can’t be doing this.”

Angel slouched next to you with a huff, trailing his fingers down your arm.

“Why not?”

You sighed. After all this time, the feeling of Angel so close to you was everything you thought you wanted. But everything that had been said? The water beneath your respective bridges? Angel was still awash, had not come to rest on any bank. And you were still waiting on the shore -- now certain that all you would mold from the riverbank clay were memories and half-baked dreams. 

“We’re not together,” you breathed, leaning over the bed to pick up your sweats and tug them back on. “And that’s not what this is. We're too old for platitudes, and happy endings are for children's stories. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you know this is wrong.”

“Querida -- I want…" Angel started, before turning away, leaning over his thighs and tugging his hands through his hair… his distress with how he had let himself get so out of control with you was mounting. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“What? Angel,” you touched your hand to his still-bare shoulder. “What do you want?”

"A second chance…?" Angel's normally smooth voice trailed at the end, transforming his desire into a question, fading into the silence of the room. He shifted his shoulders, turning his body to once more face yours, but not quite meeting your eyes. 

You let his words hang in silence for a moment, weighing how you wanted to respond.

“Say something, Frida.” 

"I knew you'd say that," you chuckled drily. "I know you, you're like this. But second chances become third, fourth, fifth. I can't trust you. What did you expect me to say?"

Angel opened his mouth to answer before catching sight of the expression on your face, twisted into proverbial knots. Even now, you were being far more gracious than he had any right to expect. He closed his mouth again, sighing.

"I don't know, dulce."

"I do,” you shook your head. “You expected me to say 'yes,' " you reached across the bed to one more lace your fingers through his. "I know you. But what does it say about me that I want to? It would be so like me, wouldn't it?"

You squeezed Angel's fingers tenderly in your grip, awarding him a flickering, wan smile. 

Angel's voice cracked when he spoke again, "Then say yes, Frida. Let me prove it to you. Prove that we’re meant to be together."

"And would you? Would you take me back if I did that to you? If I had someone else's child? While we were together?" 

Angel was silent at that, not having considered the reversal of roles. In truth, though you knew him, he knew you, too. It would be so wildly out of character, how would he have been expected to consider it?

"You think you might, because you love me. But, see, Angelito, I don't think you would. So how can you sit there and say we're two people who are meant to be when we don't even love each other the same? Love doesn't come in pieces, amor. You held my heart in your hands. And you crushed it. Let it crumble into nothing, like sand. Like I meant nothing."

“But this--” Angel gestured between the two of you, eyes lingering on the skin of your neck where his mouth had been, tracing his fingers over your kiss-swollen lips. 

“--Can’t happen.” Tears were rising to your eyes again. 

Goddamnit. Couldn’t you get through one conversation with him without crying?

“Maybe we are meant to be. And maybe we'll find our way back to one another. But right now? I -- I don't think I can. But more importantly, I don't think we should. And please hear me when I tell you how much it breaks my heart to say that."

Your heart was burning, but your skin was ice. Dream, they call desire. And he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Always stupidly genuine.

Angel was stock-still, and as you took in his prone form, eyes tracing to his face -- you saw a lone tear slip down his cheek, shaking his head. 

"I miss you, you know?" He chuckled, no humor in his soft, velvet voice. 

"I know."

You were in a fugue state, the rumble of Angel’s bike retreating down the street barely registering as you were processing as you retreated to your bed, the room and your sheets noticeably cooler in Angel’s absence. The room feeling too large without him in it.

As you settled into bed, you noticed it -- Angel’s old shirt, still on your chair. 

You hadn’t thought to return it.

---

The following week found you back in the shop, preparing for your mid-afternoon appointment. You had wiped down the table, changed the wrapping, and were now idly jotting as you waited. Thoughts on one person in particular. 

The bell above the shop door dinged, causing you to look up from the poem you were penning on the lime-green sticky you kept a stack of near your work station. 

Your one o'clock was right on time.

And you were greeted with the sight of Angel striding in with two cups of caffeine, offering one two you as he rested his ringed hand on the counter.

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

Since Angel had departed your place in the middle of the night a week ago, the words between the two of you having had time to simmer and settle, allowing you to process the weight of it all. 

For his part, Angel had given you space. Hadn’t said anything past texting you to tell you he had made it home safely. 

 In the days that had followed, you had cautiously cracked the ice between the two of you, hoping to assuage any awkwardness and rebuild some kind of friendly connection removed from the physical. It was probably better that way. Messaging him idly to ask about his day. Not that you had shared with Angel, but you were also texting Christopher. 

Angel had called the shop, asking if you were available to help him with something he’d wanted to do. Something special, he’d said.

“Something for Ezekiel,” Angel told you. “He’s been through alot lately, with Gaby and the club and everything … been through alot with me lately. Now feels like the right time”

You had, of course, readily agreed. Eager and honored to help Angel with a tribute to his brother. The texts between the two of you changed to exchanges of ideas, you sending him screenshots of your sketches before the two of you had decided on a design that fit. 

You accepted the cup of coffee from Angel gratefully and with a gentle smile, beckoning him behind the counter. Coffee truly was a love language. 

“You can sit in the chair and lean forward, or you can lie on the table. Both are clean. Dealer’s choice,” you said between sips. 

Angel nodded, slugging the last of his coffee and placing the cup down before slipping his shirt over his torso, baring his back to you as he sat in the chair, leaning forward and twisting his abdomen to bare his shoulder blade to you. 

The tawny patch of skin on his shoulder, above the large Mayans tribute that covered the expanse of his back, seemed like the perfect place for something for EZ, the angel (ha ha) on his shoulder and guiding influence in one another’s lives. 

You cleaned and bic’d the area, stenciling your design into the space and getting your kit ready to begin.

Angel watched what he could of you from the corner of his eye, a resonant ache blooming through his chest at the familiarity of this scene. Of you, all business, touching his skin, preparing to impart a piece of yourself that he would wear on his body for the rest of his days. 

You queued up your playlist, the sounds of motown flowing through the shop as you hummed along idly. 

In this moment, Angel knew … he was still in love with you. Likely always would be. You had been far too gracious with him, as you always were -- in the way you had treated him the other night. No mention of your “almost” encounter, for which he was grateful. And he knew he was correct in his assessment of you when you had first started dating -- it was in your nature.

“You mind?” Angel broke the comfortable silence between the two of you, gesturing at the journal-like sketchbook you had left near your station. 

You shook your head in acquiescence, “No. But it’s kind of a mess in there lately,” you acknowledged. “Shit poet, and all.” 

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Angel barked a laugh. “I didn’t insult your poetry, Frida, you did.” 

“Ever the self-deprecating, starving artist,” you sighed dramatically. 

Angel took that as his cue, flipping through the pages of your book. One page felt particularly heavy beneath his fingers. He flipped to it, to be met with dried, pressed flowers that had been delicately glued to the pages, the page covered in a plastic slipsheet -- the dried, dusky pink of peony petals were affixed to the page next to a swath of a white, lacy-looking bloom. 

Around the flowers were sketches of hands that looked suspiciously like Angel’s own, down to the tattoos, and idle lines of poetry. 

Angel furrowed his brows as he glanced at the flowers again.

“You got those flowers for me,” you acknowledged, looking over his shoulder to see the page of your book he had settled on. “One of our first dates, when we went to the park. I’m not sure if you remember.”

Angel’s throat caught in a way that both annoyed and unsettled him. How were you always doing this to him?

“Recuerdo, Frida,” he breathed. “Lo recuerdo todo.” 

You patted his arm gently, resuming your work. 

“I like pressing flowers. It takes a while, but the end result is worth it.” 

You pinched your brows in concentration as you drew along the stenciled lines you’d previously etched into Angel’s shoulder blade, gun buzzing. You began to fill in the minimalist rising sun that was now filling the shoulder blade, stippling the interior as you went, the effect giving the sun an almost stucco-like finish that looked breathtaking against Angel’s golden skin. 

Angel allowed you to continue you work in silence, the weight of the past few days with you settling into his bones. He had pleaded with you, endeared himself to you so much that he had lost his voice. His bones filling with the words he wished he could verbalize. 

He was slowly arriving at that place of acceptance -- Santo Padre was a small town. He would see you. And it appeared that you could now stomach his presence, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Seeing you alone. Hell, even seeing you with someone else, was better than not seeing you at all. 

But once thing was clear -- you were someone who would always be in his life, his memories, his heart.

Angel was lost in his thoughts; you were focused on your work. The only thing that gave any indication as to the passage of time in the room where you two found yourselves was the evolution of your playlist passing through tracks.

Isn’t that how it always was with Angel? Time stood still. 

As you finished his tattoo, you snapped a quick pic for your work Insta -- and maybe, selfishly, for yourself, to admire, too. It’s true, what you had felt all those months ago, and again a week ago -- Angel Reyes was your muse. 

Made to be admired in perpetuity. 

You cleaned and wrapped it, pushing back wordlessly from your seat and making your way to the front as Angel gingerly tugged his shirt back over his head. Quoting the rate over your shoulder, you put Angel's aftercare bag together. But not before slipping the lime sticky in.

“Is that it?” Angel asked, arriving at the front counter, kutte once again in place..

“C’mon, Angelito, you know you get the friends-and-family rate,” you shrugged.

"And is that what we are, querida? Friends?” Angel's voice had none of the bravado it held when he had first spoken these words to you the day you'd met. Now it was cotton soft and carefully tinged with hope. He leaned over the counter.

You shrugged again.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" You tilted the corner of your lips in a gentle, wan half-smile. 

"One day with you, and already friends again?” Angel breezed. You shrugged lightly in response, as he continued, “Or maybe the day after that? A man can hope, Frida."

“You know what they say, Angelito,” your voice was soft, but he’d recognize the teasing lilt anywhere. He’d heard it so often at the breaking dawn of your relationship. Kindness, with a hint of subtle flirtation. It was just how you were. “Hope springs eternal.”

Angel nodded, tossing a few bills on the counter and gently rapping his ringed-knuckles against the counter, a he was wont to do. He smiled gently at you, all glimmering white teeth and high cheeks. 

As Angel walked away, head down and focused on his phone now as he headed out the door and toward his bike, you watched him leave. Your elbow on the counter and head propped in your hand. 

You wondered when Angel would discover the sticky, recalling the words you had written on it. 

my stark moments of clarity between hazy and woebegone memory (thanks to spilled red wine) -- are still marked by the firm hand of your bruising ardor.

Your phone buzzed, breaking you from your reverie as you looked down at the name flashing on the screen, an easy grin blooming across your features.

“Well, hey,” you greeted. Unable to keep the happy chirp from your voice at hearing from him again so soon.

“Hey, mama,” he greeted in that smooth, throaty rasp of his you adored. “You busy later?”   

---

Tagging: @cinewhore @superhoeva @blessedboo @rebeccasficrecs @themarcusmoreno @joannasteez @justanotherblonde23 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @huliabitch @ifimayhaveaword @flightlessangelwings @phoenixhalliwell @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb @ciriswife @witching-hour @lo-la-bu-ro @doloreschanal @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @skyesthebomb @artsymaddie @helli4nthus @xonickibaby @melancholyy-hill @jeonsblackgf-writes @dyke--grayson @pettyprocrastination @moonlight-prose @velvetmel0n @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @ticosas @withmyteeth @chibsytelford @whatupitshuff @themusingofagothicsoul @the-purity-pen @belowva @mayansxlover @emmaveale123 @maddie-georges @kijahslove @supertiffybee @jettia @spnaquakindgdom @abysshaven @starrynite7114 @thesandbeneathmytoes @cyarikashakira @calif0rnia-lovers​

[celestialrry]

I wish you would write a fic where...

the main character is the daughter of a really important producer harry is working with and he has a major crush on her but 1) he doesn’t want her dad to feel like he’s taking advantage of her 2) she has a rule of not dating musicians

too young

OOOOOOHHHHHH

HIIII GUYS..... i started school again and honestly for the longest time i've had no inspiration to write but then i got this ask!!! (thank you for your patience anon ily) and was like i love this prompt but then i wrote the first part and had no idea how to continue it,,, but I finally finished it!! ε(♡'-')з (this is me giving you all my love and affection for sticking with me) 

(NOT EDITED)

2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

Harry was in a dilemma.

Usually, he could sweep all his issues under the rug, save them for another day, but this one... he couldn't do that. Not because he didn't want to, but because this problem was more than just a dust bunny on his hardwood floor.

Y/N was the problem.

Or to be more precise, his feelings for Y/N were the problem.

Harry had confidence when it came to his crushes. He was smooth, flirty, and snagged almost every single person he's caught feelings for.

But not Y/N.

No, she was almost unreachable, for quite a few reasons.

One, the only reason he knew her, met her, was through a producer he had been working with the past few months. Arlo was massive in the industry and Harry was flattered when Arlo approached him with interest in collaborating. And only a month into working together, he met Y/N.

Harry's head snapped towards the door that had just burst open, a girl barging into the studio that he had never seen before. She was gorgeous, he had to admit, but he couldn't ignore her blatant disrespect for coming in and making a scene while he, Arlo, and a few of his bandmates were working annoyed him to no end.

"Dad! Oh my god, you will not believe what just happened, I was on my way over here and I fucking bumped into Zach," The girl began ranting, approaching Arlo and huffing as she stood next to Arlo's chair. "Of all fucking people I could see just walking down the street, it had to be him. The world is against me today I swear. Anyways, I brought that drum pad you wanted."

She dug into her big brown bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out the music board, placing it on the table in front of Arlo.

"Where'd you see him, Y/N? We're about to go on break and I can leave and go kick his ass in," Arlo checked his watch. "7 minutes."

Y/N, Harry now knew her as, sighed and crossed her arms. "He's long gone by now, think he shit his pants when he saw me walking near him."

"Atta girl, thanks for bringing my board too," Arlo smiled up at her from his chair. He then turned to see Harry, and Mitch staring at the two of them. "Oh sorry guys, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry and Mitch."

She turned to look at them and smiled wide. "Nice to meet you!"

"You too." They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile, before focusing back on Y/N.

"We'll be done soon, if you wanna go out and get lunch." Arlo said, turning back to his daughter.

"Sounds good, just text me," Y/N replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the boys. "Nice meeting you guys, again."

And before they could even respond she was gone.

Two, Y/N was younger than him. 6 years younger to be exact. It didn't seem like much, but when put into perspective, she was 21, only just being legally allowed to drink in the States, and Harry was 27. Practically 30, if you ask him, and he was positive Arlo would have his head if he found out Harry liked his daughter. 

And three, she doesn't date the people her dad works with. 

He had found this out one night when he, Arlo, Y/N, Mitch, and a couple other writers were hanging out at the studio, drinking some wine (she had even exclaimed that this would be her first time drinking red, and Harry was yet again reminded of her age) and chatting after a long day of working. 

Harry and Mitch were laughing with Arlo about the first time they met Y/N, and her comments about this “Zach” guy. 

“He’s my ex, and had worked with my dad on one shitty song that never got far because he’s just so-- music is just not his thing, to put it nicely. But he was an absolute asshole and after him I made rule to never date anyone Dad works with. It would just go terribly.” She explained, letting Arlo take a few more jabs at the guy before stopping him.

So yeah, Harry was in a dilemma. 

In all the time he’d known Y/N, he just kept falling for her. She was kind, funny, beautiful, lit up any room she walked into, and treated Harry like fine porcelain. 

She was just fucking perfect. 

｡:°ஐ

Y/N had probably been in a lot of worse positions than the predicament she was in now.

For example, that time her dad walked in on her and her ex making out in the studio, or her 21st birthday when she got completely wasted and almost got into the wrong car instead of her uber, and the next day found out that the man driving that car was actually a convicted criminal.

So there’s worse things that could happen than her liking Harry.

But it doesn't mean it wasn’t bad.

The thing is, Y/N didn’t fall for anyone easily. Her one and only ex Zach treated her like a queen until he could officially claim her as his. The flowers he gave her before every date remained at the shop and the consistent compliments turned into insults and muttered claims of discontentment. 

Hence why he was her ex. It took Y/N quite a long time to work up the courage to end things with him. He was her first kiss, first time, and first boyfriend. She was yet to find her first love, she never really loved Zach. The way he used to treat her in the beginning, she thinks she loved, but him? No, she would never call him her first love. 

So when Y/N’s time crush on Harry began to develop into real feelings in such a short span of time, it terrified her. She had really never felt this way about someone before; butterflies would erupt in her stomach every time he shot her a smile and her mind would erupt into pure chaos when his body brushed up against her own. 

So yeah, it could be worse, but it certainly wasn't good.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N enjoyed spending time at the studio with her dad, and surprisingly, spending time with her dad’s “co-workers”. Even though she didn't usually hang out with the pop stars and spent time mostly with the backing band/producers (they were usually 50 year old men, but they were pretty nice) she enjoyed herself fully, having lunch breaks and talking about where their children when to school and whatnot. 

Sometimes though, every blue moon, Y/N would hang out with a super star her dad was working with. Usually when most stars are at the studio all they did was record, which was understandable, but she never had the chance to meet a lot of them.

With Harry though, everything was different. It wasn’t just lunches at the studio, or dinner at someone’s house, no, tonight they were going out to a bar. 

It was completely unexpected too, they had just wrapped up a song, and Harry, being in a particularly good mood had yelled out about going to a bar to celebrate. Of course, Y/N ignored his shout, knowing she wasn’t invited, and after Arlo had said something about “not being able to party as much as I used to”, she gave her dad a hug good night and waved a little goodbye to the band. 

“Wait!” Harry had exclaimed, chasing after her in the hallway. “Where are y’going?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked behind her before looking back at Harry. “I was just gonna head back home.”

Harry’s head tilted, and looked at her questionably. “Y’not comin’ to the bar with us?” He practically pouted.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I- yeah I’ll go out with you guys.”

Which lead her here, decently tipsy, and sitting in a booth between Harry and Sarah, laughing at a story Adam had been telling. Every now and then she would glance over to Harry just to find his gaze already on her.

Her heart fluttered every time, and if Harry’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from the alcohol, Y/N would have noticed him blush every time they locked eyes as well. 

“M’gonna get another drink, does anyone want anything?” Y/N piped up, a resounding chorus of “no, thank you’s” answering her question. Except for Harry who spoke softly, “A beer? Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

She shook her head at him as he stood up to let her out of the maroon leather booth. “Can’t make you pay for that, I offered.” She said, standing to lock eyes with him yet again. 

“Nope,” He grinned. “You can, and you will.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He chuckled, giving her a dimpled smile.

Accepting her defeat she nodded and squeezed his arm with a murmured “Thank you.” before making her way to the bar.

Harry sat back down again, eyes trailing her figure as she walked away before looking back at the table to be met with knowing eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, glancing around at everyone.

“You’re whipped, mate.” Charlotte grinned, everyone else nodding in agreement.

“What?! I am not.” Harry pouted, eyes flicking over to Y/N, who was making her way to the table, one drink in each hand, before back to everyone else. 

“She’s really sweet H, you should go for it.” Mitch said.

Harry shook his head, eyes now on Mitch. “I’m not interested in her like that, she’s way too young for me, anyways.”

Just then did he hear the soft hit of his beer and her cosmo land on the table. His gaze trailed up her hands to see Y/N’s shattered face. “Here.” She practically whispered to him.

“I just remembered I have an early class tomorrow, so I should go, but thank you guys for inviting me out.” Y/N explained in lighting speed as she leaned over Harry to grab her purse and toss is over her shoulder. 

Words of confusion were tossed around the table but she was already booking it out of there, leaving Harry just as devastated as she was.

“I think she heard you, H.” Sarah said, frowning. 

Harry let out a muttered “Fuck!” before taking out large bills from his wallet and tossing it on the table. “For my tab, m’sorry, I gotta go.” And he left just as fast as Y/N did, weaving through the tables and people before bursting out the door to see her standing on the street, arm wrapped around her waist and another holding her phone.

“Y/N!”

Her head whipped around to see Harry bustling towards her and she quickly wiped her eye as he approached.

“Wait, don't go,” He said, struggling to find the words. “We all want you to stay, I want you to stay.”

“I have to get to class Harry, plus, I’m too young to be staying out this late anyways.” She grimaced at her own words. 

He sighed, eyes flickering from her own to her lips then back again. “I-fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

This time, she fully turned to face him, brows knitted in distress. “Then how did you mean it? Because honestly I don’t think there is another way to mean it.”

This was his only chance, Harry knew it. 

“I just, I tried for so long to tell myself it was wrong to feel this way about you because you’re so much younger than me, and m’pretty sure your father would have my head if he knew but m’fucking infatuated with you, Y/N. M’so sorry I said that earlier, age is my only excuse for not asking you out and it’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

With this her mouth was gaped like a fish, and her face was akin to a deer caught in headlights. In a flash her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was holding her waist, reveling in her touch. 

“Oh, Harry,” She pulled away. “I really like you too.” And with that she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. 

“Good, thats... thats good.” He stammered.

“So,” she nudged his arm. “Y’gonna ask me out now?”

[smallrainclouds]

It's not easy having yourself a good time

we're on a double-date with other people... why are we kissing? you're not my date

Credit for prompt to

Hypnos x reader (modern!College!au)

Word count: 2.7

Warning: some dating violence on OC's side. Wrist grabbing, slurs and controlling behavior.

Summary: this was the worst date of your life. Thankfully it's also Hypnos' worst date ever.

A/N: here have this fic. I had yandere! Hypnos I was working on but it's giving me issues (it was supposed be under 1k but it keeps growing).

Also, I am open to requests but will rejected any I don't feel comfortable doing.

No beta.

Thank and I hope you enjoy.

💤☁️💤

You regret everything.

You stared at the plate of food you didn't order, some sad little salad that somehow smelled greasy.

Why did you let yourself get talked into a group date? You know why, you thought your friend was going to try to set up with your lab partner, Hypnos.

You looked at the bubbles in your sparkling water, another thing you didn't order and wondered if the person you were with would ever stop talking.

You glanced up at the group at the table. Across from you with his own date next to him, was Hypnos who was frowning at your date.

At least you had one sane classmate with you. Hypnos had been your lab partner since the first day in senior year and honestly you had thought at first your friend was setting you up with Hypnos. If you had known it was with someone else, you would have bail.

Charlie was a nice person you told yourself and your friends thought they would be great for you. Charlie was just… maybe they didn't know you don't order people's food for them.

"Look what I'm saying, Hypnos, is that maybe that YouTuber guy shouldn't be called out as much. Not his fault people can't take jokes anymore." Your date, Charlie, said loudly across the table to Hypnos who just raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, You weren't going to let your friends pick a date for you ever again.

"Alright buddy. Whatever you say." Hypnos shrugged.

Hypnos' date and fellow classmate leaned across Hypnos, her breasts pressed against his arm. You looked away, poking at your food. You certainly were not jealous, you told yourself.

"Come on, guys. Let's talk about something else." she whined. The other two couples that came along echoed their agreement.

Hypnos grimaced and sat up taller, making the girl sit up as well. You felt kinda bad for both you and Hypnos. Clearly neither one of you guys were getting on with your dates.

You looked toward your friend, hoping she would notice how poorly everything was going. You rolled your eyes when she was clearly lost in her own world, feeding her partner french fries.

Too bad your date wasn't with Hypnos. You thought he was actually cute back when You first saw him, if not a little odd looking with white curls and heavy lidded eyes. Now, you couldn't imagine a more handsome person.

You found your eyes kept going back to him throughout dinner. Especially when he pushed his hoodie sleeves up, showing off his forearms.

The table moved on to some marvel movie or something but you were drifting in and out. You kept checking your watch in hopes that you could end the night soon without being rude.

You could feel someone was watching you and you looked up to Hypnos' golden eyes looking at you. He glanced at the group, back at you and rolled his eyes. You smiled in agreement but quickly covered it up with your hand.

Hypnos pointed toward your plate with the uneaten food, eyebrows rised in a questioning way.

You tilted your head toward your date who was loudly having another argument over some tv show with one of the guys there.

Hypnos looked at your date for a second before he sneaked you his untouched plate of pancakes.

You mouthed, 'Are you sure?' and he nodded, pointing at a plate of mostly eaten omelet.

You mouthed a quick thank you and dug in. You were half though the plate of pancakes when your date noticed.

"Wait, where did you get the pancakes?" Charlie asked, "You know how fattening all that carbs and sugar are? I like my dates to be healthy."

"What?" You asked flatly. Did you really hear what you just did? Hypnos and his date were both staring at Charlie. Hypnos looked furious and You saw the girl send you a pitying look.

"Oh. come on, you know I don't mean it like that."

You suddenly lost any appetite you had and pushed the plate of food away. You looked toward your friend who remained blissfully unaware of your pain.

Your date swung an arm on your shoulders, you sighed annoyed at the causal possiveness. You only knew them for like two hours but they were already acting like you were going steady.

"Ready to hit the club, Y/N?" Your date asked.

You almost groaned, you had forgotten about the stupid club.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." You tried to wiggle your date's arm off but no dice. You thought you saw Hypnos send a disapproving look at your date but you weren't sure. No point getting your hopes up.

As you exited the diner, Hypnos tripped; knocking into your date and their arms off your shoulders.

Grateful for the excuse, you took a few steps out of their reach.

"Oops, my bad." Hypnos smiled widely, and gave a shoulder pat to your date who glared at him. "Just watch it alright?" Your date snapped as they made it to the carpool.

In the car, you peeked at Hypnos who just winked at you. You didn't hide your smile this time.

The club did nothing to improve your date or your mood. The loud bassy music was almost too loud to hear anyone and your date kept trying to get you to stay on the dance floor.

You were able to duck out of their hold and pointed to the table. They tried to tell you something but You didn't stick around.

You almost fell into the booth, your feet were throbbing and you just wanted to go home. You could just see your homework growing by the hour.

"Need water?" Hypnos asked. You looked up, "Oh I didn't know you were at the table. Yes please."

He handed you an icy cold bottle and you moaned at how good it tasted. He laughed and you blushed, feeling foolish.

"Sorry, thank you." You took a slip, without moaning this time thankfully.

Hypnos went back to his phone, fingers moving quickly. "No problem."

"Where is… um what was her name?" You asked, trying not to look at Hypnos too much. How dare he look this good in the club' dim lighting.

"Oh I forgot her name. But she is doing fine. Told me she was going home with her ex." He pointed to the dance floor where the girl was dancing against another guy, their mouths glued together.

You looked back at him, but he already was back to texting on his phone. He didn't seem upset at all.

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You said awkwardly, not sure of what to make of this whole night.

"Don't be. I'm not." He shrugged. You couldn't help but notice how nicely the red hoodie fit him.

"I will admit though I don't think I will be trusting our friend's matchmaking skills after tonight." Hypnos looked at you, his amused smile made you smile in return.

"You and I both." You murmured your agreement.

You finished off your drink, eyeing him.

After a few more minutes, your willpower broke.

"Okay I gotta know. It has been months since I met you and it is bugging the crap out of me." You leaned forward to him.

He looked up from his phone, a white eyebrow raised.

"Is Hypnos your real name?" You asked him, not quite able to look away from him. You were being a silly school girl and you knew it.

He laughed, "Yeah, it is." He moved closer, his eyes bright. "Wanna know why?"

At your nod, he spoke. "When my mom was pregnant with me and my brother. She got kinda crunchy, got into healing crystals and tarot cards, stuff like that."

Hypnos waved a hand. "So when she couldn't pick names for us, she went to a psychic, who told her that she was a reincarnation of the goddess Nyx. And apparently she was pregnant again with the reincarnated gods of sleep and death."

You couldn't help the small laugh and Hypnos chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.

"Mom believed the guy." He pointed to himself, " So ta-da I got named Hypnos. And my brother is Thanatos."

"Your mom sounds like a fun lady." You played with your hair, enjoying the warmth in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel such things.

"Oh definitely. I never know what I'm going to get when I see her." Hypnos said fondly.

When You shifted your seat, your leg brushed against his. You almost pulled away but Hypnos pressed his leg against yours. You could feel the heat of his body and it just made you want more.

His golden eyes searched yours, silently asking if he could do this. You returned the gentle pressure and flushed at his soft smile.

"How does your brother handle the whole Thanos name thing?" You asked, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.

A devious glint lit Hypnos' eyes, "Oh he hates it so much. He already hated the whole super hero thing. Last year for his birthday, I got him a cardboard cutout of the big guy. I thought he was going to shove it down my throat. I got his boyfriend Zagreus and their girlfriend Meg in on it this year, we going to -"

"Hey Y/N. Are you coming back to the floor?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, "Hypnos, I think your actual date is looking for you."

You pulled away, you had forgotten about Charlie and you couldn't help but feel some guilt, even if you didn't like them that much or at all.

Hypnos stayed in place, amusement on his face. You saw Charlie's fists clenched and knew they were about to start a fight and stood up.

You were definitely going to block Charlie's number after tonight was over.

"Come on, let's get some drinks for everyone. They should be coming back soon." You motioned for Charlie to follow you. They glared at Hypnos before following you.

You couldn't resist a quick glance back to Hypnos, who raised his beer at you in a 'cheers' motion.

💤☁️💤

Charlie was sullen and quiet as you ordered more drinks for the group. You couldn't blame them really, anyone would be put out when their dates are clearly having a better time with someone else.

Well, not Hypnos but Hypnos wasn't exactly normal, you thought fondly.

You tapped the bar, guilt gnawed at your guts as your thoughts went back to Hypnos.

"So what were you guys talking about?" Charlie slurred, his tone icy.

You took a breath, just a few more hours you reminded yourself. "Nothing much. Just about his brothers and stuff."

Charlie crowded into your space. You can smell the booze and sweat on them.

"You guys seemed like you were sitting pretty close considering you were talking about 'brothers'." They did a finger quote.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stand being near them any longer. You stepped away to head back to let your friends you were bailing for the night.

"Tell me what he said to you." Charlie demanded as they grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Ow, let go of me! You are hurting me, Charlie." You hissed, trying not to draw any attention.

"Tell me." They hisses back.

"I did. Buy your own drink, I'm going home." You tried to yank your hand away but they didn't let go.

"Look I've been nothing but nice to you and you're cuddling up to another guy on our date like some slut." They changed their tone, trying to sound more upset than controlling but it just made your stomach twisted in disgust.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but after a moment you shut it, "You're right. Clearly this isn't going to work out so let me go."

"No, you own me something, Y/N." Charlie leaned toward you. "And I'm not leaving empty handed."

"Fuck off." You snapped, fear rising in your chest.

"Hey, man." Hypnos grabbed Charlie's wrist and squeezed tightly enough that they were forced to let go of your wrist. His normal light-hearted tone was hard. "I think Y/N had enough of your company tonight."

You took some steps back, shaking a little. Without looking at you, Hypnos asked. "Y/N, do you need to go get anything?"

"N-no. I have everything. I want to leave." You hated how weak you sounded and you wished that you never came out at all.

Hypnos held on to Charlie's wrist and yanked them toward him. You heard Hypnos murmur something to them.

Fear flashed over Charlie's face and they stumbled backward. "Fine. Whatever asshole."

Hypnos turned to you, his eyes darkened by his anger. "Come on, I can get you a ride home."

You just nodded, feeling very exhausted and close to tears.

💤☁️💤

The cold wind felt like heaven after the heat of the overflowing club. At least for the first two minutes.

You just walked, not quite sure where to go. Hypnos walked next to you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Neither one of you said anything as you tried to process the horrible night.

After walking for ten more minutes, Hypnos spoke up. "There is a park nearby, we should be able to find a park bench."

You just nodded, Hypnos offered an arm and after a moment you took it. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, soaking in his body heat.

The park was empty, lit by warm path lights.

"Thank you." You said. "You didn't have to do anything for me."

"It's all good. How about the wrist?" Hypnos asked softly.

"It doesn't hurt. Thank you since you stepped in." You patted his forearm.

Hypnos sighed, "No. Not thanks to me actually. Its kinda my fault, I've been pushing their buttons for most of the night."

You looked up at Hypnos, your brow furrowed. "What? No, they have been pretty rude since the start of the date. I mean, you heard the salad thing. They ordered it for me!"

Hypnos shook his head. His breath coming out in white puffs. "Yeah and because I was jealous, I made a bad date into a nightmare. I knew I was making them feel all threatened, it wasn't hard honestly. I didn't think they would grab you like that. I just thought they would be a bad date you could laugh about later."

It took you a moment to process his words. You stopped on the park path, staring off at the lake.

"You were jealous?" You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Very." Hypnos chuckled bitterly.

"Hypnos, you are an idiot." You said blankly.

He opened his mouth to say something but you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him.

At first, Hypnos doesn't return your kiss and you pull away, an apology already on your lips.

But he cupped your face and met you again in a sweet, slow kiss. He kept pulling away to press chaste kisses against your lips and cheeks.

"Damnit, I was planning on asking out you after our last class assignment. I had a plan for everything. I was going to take you to your favorite coffee shop and buy you that dumb drink you like. Take you the park by our dorms and ask you by the duck pond." Hypnos said between kisses and pressing one last long kiss against your lips.

You hummed, unable to think straight. "Our friend ruined that, huh." You laughed when you could feel him growled against your lips. "You have no idea, I had a speech and everything."

After another long and soft kiss, both of you pulled away only to met again in a forehead press. Your white puffs of breath mingled together and your heart felt so full.

"You could still do the coffee and the speech. And the ducks." You whispered.

"Yeah?" Hypnos asked softly, his thumb caressed your cheek.

"I have to do a lab with a very cute classmate tomorrow but I'm free after that." You flushed, pleased at the fond smile Hypnos had.

"That's funny, so am I." Hypnos replied.

Unable to hold off any longer, you pulled him into another kiss, one of the many yet to come.