#had a minute where i was like shit what if poetry is bad... well it isn't. go read ada limón | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

i-am-baechu · 1 year ago

Text

・Title: Bad Boy

・Paring: Playboy! Yoongi x Namjoon’s little sister! Reader

・ Summary: Yoongi has been best friends with Namjoon since he was seven. He knew his little sister was always off limits but Yoongi never followed the rules.

・ Rating: Explicit (18+)

・ Genre: Playboy! Yoongi, bad boy! Yoongi, best friend's little sister! reader, college! au, music major! Yoongi, Biology major! reader, fluff, romance, smut, and angst

・Playlist - Dandelions - Ruth B. and Heart like yours - Willamette Stone

・Authors Note: I worked so late yesterday that I didn't have time to post this or even finalize it. I really like how this turned out and it's kinda different for me. I hope you guys like it : )

“I guess sometimes you have to lie to find the truth...” – Scott Westerfeld....

She gasped breathlessly and gripped the black sheets in pleasure, “Yoongi! Please-Oh!” He plunged a finger deep inside of her after teasing her clit with his tongue for what seemed like hours.

“Whiney little slut.” He spat as he smacked her thigh roughly and made his way back to her clit.

“Another one!~” Her pleading echoed through the dark room and her fingers were tangled in his long dark locks. He chuckled softly and added another finger, pulling his tongue off of her clit to replace it with his thumb. He glanced outside of his window for a quick second to see the moon shining so bright against his pale skin. He should be used to the brightness of the moon but he isn’t.

“Come for me. Hurry up, slut.”

She glanced down at Yoongi and couldn’t stop herself from moaning when she saw his smirk. She arched her back and he felt her clenching around his fingers. Yoongi kept pumping his fingers and leaned down to lick at her clit. Before they could continue, Yoongi’s phone started ringing. He rolled his eyes and got off the bed leaving his hook up in a daze. He picked up his phone in annoyance, “What?”

“Dude, where are you? We have that project due at midnight.”

Yoongi cursed under his breath and glanced at the girl on his bed. She was still in a daze and glanced back down at the floor, “Alright, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You fucking better be.”

Yoongi picked up his shirt off the floor and put it on. He picked up the girl's dress and tossed it to her causing her to snap out of her daze, “Are you leaving?”

“What does it look like?”

The girl scoffed and shook her head, “After fucking me, you're just going to leave me?”

“That was the plan. You can have water from the fridge and make sure you lock the door when you leave.”

Yoongi picked up his motorcycle keys and waved at the girl who was looking at him with a shocked expression. He was down the hallway when he heard the girl yell, “Min Yoongi! You are the worst man on this planet and I hope you get what's coming to you!”

Yoongi chuckled at that and put his boots on, “Not the first time I heard that one.”

Yoongi left his apartment, well it wasn’t really his apartment. It was his dad’s property that he used once in a while. That was the benefit of having a rich dad who felt bad for neglecting you. He always wanted to try with him and Yoongi wasn’t going to ignore the gifts or benefits. He put his helmet on and drove to Namjoon’s apartment.

Yoongi met Namjoon by accident during grade school. They were partnered up for a poetry project and since then the two have been together. Namjoon had always understood Yoongi, regardless of how rough around the edges he was. Namjoon understood him. Namjoon was the first person he came to when his parents were getting divorced and he was the first person he went to when he got accepted to his dream college. Best friends forever they said.

The drive there was quick and he was welcomed with the familiar smell of lavender when he closed the door. Namjoon always liked the smell of lavender. He said it calmed him down and it had benefits. Some shit like that. Yoongi placed his helmet on the table towards the front as he took off his jacket. He cracked his neck when he felt a presence.

He turned his head and saw Y/N standing there holding a tray of sweets. Y/N was three years younger than Namjoon and four years his junior. He saw her as a piece of glass. She was so sharp but one push and boom shattered. They didn’t really talk that much because she was always busy with her friends or school. He also didn’t know what to say to her. Like at this moment.

She gave him a small smile and glanced down at the tray, “I got some pastries for your study session. I also started the coffee machine, you should have some soon. Hopefully.”

Yoongi nodded his head and put his hair in a small ponytail, “Thanks Y/N.”

He glanced at her and saw that she was in a simple white loungewear set with matching slippers. Her hair was braided and out of her face giving him the perfect view of her eyes. When they were younger, her eyes were like a doe. So wide and filled with hope. Now that she was older they matured with the sparkle of hope that never truly left her. Hoping that life wouldn’t hurt her and everything would turn out right for her. She had all the tools to make that happen and Yoongi knew this.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder and then back at him, “Namjoon is waiting. He’s grumpy today, be patient with him.”

“Is it because of his girl?”

“Heejin-unnie? Did they get into a fight?”

Yoongi let out a small chuckle and realized that Y/N had no idea about her brother’s love life, “I guess you can say that.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, “Should I be worried? I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

Yoongi shook his head at this and put his hands in his pants pocket, “He’s alright. He’s a big boy.”

Y/N nodded her head and smiled at him, “Plus, he has you in his life. Come in before Namjoon gets angrier.”

Yoongi wanted to ask her what she meant by that but she walked away from him. There were moments where Yoongi found himself wanting to talk to her but he always stopped himself. She was always there but instead of being a wallflower, he saw her as the charming painting that could brighten up any house. Only a few can understand art and he was glad he could.

He sighed to himself and walked into the living room to see Namjoon with his papers all over the place. His laptop shines bright against his face and the multiple energy drink cans can cause any doctor to write a note. Yoongi sighed and shook his head at his friend, “Dude, are you good?”

Namjoon looked up from his laptop and glared at him, “I told you to be here an hour ago! You were just sleeping with some random chick again, right?”

“I lost track of time.” He glanced up and saw Y/N standing by the doorway with a frown on her face. A frown on her face didn’t look right, he wanted to see her smiling with her eyes sparkling. He bit his lip and looked away from her, again what would he say to her?

“Of course, you lost track...sorry, I’m just stressed with this project and-”

“Heejin.”

Namjoon sighed and nodded his head, “Yeah, let’s just focus on the project.”

Yoongi nodded his head and sat on the ground next to Namjoon. He glanced into the kitchen to see Y/N pouring coffee into a mug. He watched her push some hair back and he smiled to himself when he saw her pearl earring shining away. It matched her perfectly. She brought two mugs out and placed them on the table. She smiled at Yoongi and pushed the mug towards him, “Just like how you like it.”

“Americano?”

“Of course, well...I added something to it. It’s my favorite sweetener. I hope you like it.”

Yoongi picked up the cup and brought it up to his lips. The dark liquid went down his throat and the taste of brown sugar became the main focus. It was good, it wasn’t too sweet. It was perfect. Of course, she liked brown sugar, it made sense for her. He put the mug down and saw her looking at him in anticipation. He held back a chuckle and nodded his head, “It’s good.”

She smiled and looked at her brother, “Make sure you drink your coffee. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t Y/N. Go get some sleep, you have that test in the morning.”

She nodded her head and she looked at Yoongi, “Goodnight.”

Yoongi took another sip and nodded his head at her, “Goodnight.”

He watched her leave the living room and before she went up the stairs, she glanced at him. She waved at him but he didn’t return it. He just smiled at her and he hoped that was enough for her. He listened to her footsteps until he heard her door closed. He could easily map out her room, he's always at Namjoon’s apartment.

He turned towards Namjoon who was typing away and he sighed, “Dude, we just needed one more part. Why are you so stressed?”

“I wanted to add more things.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at this and shook his head, “Professor Lee said it was perfect, what more can you do?”

“Make it more perfect, start reading.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at this, It’s going to be a long night.

His eyes fluttered open when the smell of cinnamon hit his nose. He let out a low groan and rubbed his eyes. He sat up and realized he fell asleep on the floor. He glanced at the couch to see Namjoon snoring with the book covering his face. He took his phone off the charger and saw it was seven in the morning. He let out another groan but his eyes landed on the kitchen.

Y/N had her hair up in a ponytail pouring oatmeal into a bowl. He saw the soft cotton cream sweater dress that made her look so small. He slowly got up and walked towards the kitchen. He leaned against the door frame and saw her washing the dishes she used. He couldn’t help but look her up and down. This was different though. He wasn’t looking at her as a quick hook-up, he was admiring the beautiful person that he had known his whole life.

“Good morning Yoongi. I made you a bowl of oatmeal.”

He quickly snapped out of his stare and gave her an awkward smile, “Thanks.” He walked into the kitchen to see the bowl of oatmeal with berries and cinnamon on top. He glanced next to the bow to see a tangerine and let out a small laugh, “Is that for you?”

“No, it’s for you. I know it's your favorite.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem...I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He turned towards her to see her leaning against the sink with a frown. He shook his head as he started to peel the tangerine, “No, I woke up because my ass was hurting from the floor.”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “Did you guys finish the project?”

“Yeah, but Namjoon wanted to do extra credit.” This is the most I’ve spoken to her in a while...

“Of course he did.”

Yoongi took a slice of the tangerine and handed it towards her, “Here.”

She glanced at the slice and then back at him, “Thank you...I have to go to class.”

He nodded his head and placed the tangerine in her hand. He felt the softness of her palm and the faint lines. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to but he liked it. Y/N took the tangerine and placed it in her mouth. She let out a small laugh and smiled, “It’s kinda sour. Bye, Yoongi.”

She waved at Yoongi and headed towards the door with Yoongi watching her. He saw the way her hair bounced with each step she took and saw a big white scrunchie holding her hair. He continued to watch her until the wall made her disappear and he heard the door closed. He sighed and leaned against the counter staring at the ceiling, Fuck.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

She smiled at Yoongi and accepted the present. It was Y/N’s birthday party and she invited all her friends over (which wasn’t a lot). Yoongi was kind of shocked that he was invited but then he remembered he was her brother’s best friend. It made sense for him to be there. Every year Namjoon tried making Y/N’s birthday bigger, it was the least he could do since it was just them. Ever since their parents passed away, Namjoon tried his best to make everything perfect for her.

She glanced down at the present and then back at him, “Thank you. Can I have a guess?”

“No, that’s why you open it.”

She rolled her eyes at him and set the box on the table with the other ones, “Thank you, do you want some cake or-”

“Y/N, it’s your birthday. You don’t have to serve me anything.”

“But I want to...especially if it's you.”

They stared at each other until she broke it. Glancing down at the floor and he was glad she broke it. He didn’t know what he would do if she continued to look at him like that. She looked back at him and went to say something but Namjoon entered the room.

“Neh, Y/N. Your friends want to do shots.”

Y/N nodded her head but she didn’t break her gaze. Yoongi let out a small cough and glanced down at his shoes, “Namjoon, you got beer?”

“Of course I do. Y/N likes those fruity drinks.”

Y/N scoffed and turned towards her brother, “You know, you drink them too.”

“Rarely.”

She rolled her eyes and went towards the kitchen while Namjoon laughed at her. Namjoon gave a bro hug to Yoongi and gave him a smile, “Thanks for coming over.”

“No problem. It’s wild that she’s twenty-four.”

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder and smiled seeing his sister laughing loudly with her friends, “Don’t remind me. What did you get her?”

“It’s not for you. Why would I tell you?”

“So fucking annoying. Let’s get some beer.”

They walked into the backyard and picked some beer out of the cooler. They sat in the chairs and stared at the sky together. Namjoon took a sip and sighed, “It’s been six years since our parents passed.”

Yoongi nodded his head and watched the stars twinkling, “They’re always here. They would be proud of you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, studying to become a doctor and taking care of his little sister. Who wouldn’t be proud?”

Namjoon let out a small chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. He placed the beer next to him and looked at the sky, “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decisions…but then I see Y/N smiling..and it makes the questions fade away.”

Yoongi smiled at this and glanced at Namjoon, “She loves you. You're her everything.”

“I wouldn’t say everything…”

The back door opened and they turned around to see Y/N with a wide smile. She walked towards Yoongi and leaned down, placing a kiss on his cheek, “I love it…thank you.”

“Yeah…”

She ran back in and he watched with a smile on his face. Namjoon raised his eyebrow and glanced at Yoongi, “What did you get her?”

“A mini vinyl player with her favorite songs.”

“Damn, that's a good gift. I just got her that biology book she wanted.”

“I knew she liked music...I didn’t want to get her something that was school-related so...yeah.”

It was later that night and everyone went home while Yoongi was crashing on the couch. He went up the stairs to go to the bathroom but before he entered he heard a soft melody. He glanced at Y/N’s door to see the door cracked open. He slowly walked towards the door and smiled at the sight before him. Y/N fell asleep with the mini vinyl playing the familiar melody. He quietly walked into her room and glanced down at her face.

The moon was highlighting her features and her hair framed her face perfectly. Sure, she had drool on her chin but Yoongi didn’t care. It was Y/N, that's what matters. He pulled the blanket up to cover her but he felt a hand on his wrist. He slowly looked up to see Y/N giving him a sleepy smile, “Hey...”

He let out a small cough and nodded his head, “Hey...”

“I really liked your gift, it was my favorite...thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Did you have a good birthday?”

She snuggled closer to her pillow and let out a small groan, “I did...You made it better you know.”

He raised his eyebrow and looked at her, “How?”

“Secret.”

He chuckled and carefully picked up the mini vinyl player. He placed it on her desk and turned back to see her eyes closed. He smiled to himself and pushed some hair back, “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Yoongi sat in the club with all his friends around him. Namjoon just recently went on a break from his girl and Jungkook just wanted to go out. It was a great excuse to go out. It’s been a week since he spoke to Y/N. Sure he’s seen her around campus but he didn’t speak to her. He wanted to, but it was awkward for him to do so.

He smashed his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back against the dark purple couch. He cracked his neck and watched Jungkook flirt with a senior girl and Taehyung doing shots with a group of people. This is how the night usually goes. Yoongi stood up and leaned towards Hoseok, “I’m going to the bathroom, watch Namjoon real quick.”

“He’ll be fine-”

“He’s getting drunk. Watch him.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi walked away with his hands in his pockets. He looked around and saw everyone getting drunk. He was sure someone was fucking on the dance floor. He went into the hallway to the bathroom but stopped when he heard a familiar voice. The need to go to the bathroom left him and pure anger took over.

“Jun, leave me alone.”

“I want you, Y/N. If we fucked once we can fucked again.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed and walked towards the exit to see Y/N hugging herself. Clearly looking uncomfortable. Yoongi glared and walked towards them with anger in each step. He pushed Jun and stood in front of Y/N, “She said leave. You better leave.”

Jun looked at Yoongi with wide eyes, “Yo-Yoongi!?”

“Yeah, you know my name. Now get the fuck out before I force you. Leave.”

Jun glanced at Y/N and then back at Yoongi, “Fine, this isn’t over yet, Y/N.”

Yoongi watched him leave and he sighed. He turned around to see Y/N avoiding his eyes, “Are you alright, Y/N?” She nodded her head and rubbed her arm in a nervous manner. Yoongi sighed and brought her into a tight hug as he rubbed her back, “It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be sorry, it's his fault. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi let her go and Y/N leaned against the wall with a frown, “Isabella broke up with her boyfriend...we decided to come here to cheer her up.”

Yoongi nodded his head and looked around, “Do you want to go home or stay?”

“I would like to go home...I was going to call a-”

“I’m taking you home. I want to make sure you get home safely.”

Y/N looked up and gave him a small smile, “Thank you Yoongi...let me get my things real quick.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s literally right there, it won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you.”

He watched her walk away and he noticed the simple short black dress she was in. It showed off her figure perfectly and he couldn’t help himself from biting his lip. He quickly looked away and shook his head, disappointed in himself that he looked at Y/N like that. Especially what just happened. He wasn’t better than that guy.

“Yoongi are you alright?”

He looked back to see Y/N with worry in her eyes, “I was just thinking...”

“Thinking is dangerous.”

“I should know. Are you ready?”

She nodded her head and walked towards him with this soft aura around her, “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem.”

The two walked in the night with stars and street lights guiding their way. The leaves underneath them remember their footwear and the wind pushing them forward. He glanced to his side to see her shivering a bit. He quickly took off his jacket and tapped her arm, “Take it.”

She glanced at the leather jacket and then at his face, “You’ll get cold though.”

“I’ll be fine. You won’t though.”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “Very confident, Yoongi.”

“Have to be.” Especially around you.

He gently draped his jacket around her shoulders and he watched her snuggle into it, “It’s very warm. A good contrast from this cold.”

“It’s fall. What did you expect?”

“Touchee.”

The two continued to walk on the sidewalk and the winds kept pushing him towards her. He stood his ground against it but that didn’t stop him from glancing at her. They stopped when he was in front of his car and he opened the door for her, “Here.”

“Yoongi, thank you again for this.”

“Stop saying thank you, it's weird.”

She shrugged her shoulders and entered his car but Yoongi placed his hand on top of her head to make sure she didn’t hit it. She glanced at him but he ignored it. He closed the door and let out a deep sigh with his eyes closed before he headed to his side. He started the car and the drive was filled with stolen glances.

During the halfway point, curiosity killed the cat, “So...why was that Jun dude bothering you?”

She glanced away from the window to give him her full attention, “I slept with him once and I said never again.”

“Was he that bad?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “No, I just felt lonely and it wasn’t right to do that to someone. Even if they're horrible like Jun.”

“You're too nice.”

“You’re not the first person that told me that. Why were you at the club?”

He wasn’t sure if he should outed Namjoon so he just shrugged his shoulders, “It was a Saturday. Nothing else to do.”

She nodded her head and glanced back out the window, “You go to the club often?”

“Eh...it depends.”

“That doesn’t sound fun...then again that’s just me.”

It’s not fun but I do it because I’m lonely too...

He stopped the car in front of the familiar yellow paint and unlocked the doors, “There you are.”

She smiled and handed him back his jacket, “I appreciate this...don’t tell Namjoon what happened tonight?”

“Sure.”

She got out of the car and he followed. He leaned against his door and watched her go up to the door. She glanced over her shoulder and he thought it was funny to see her confused, “Why are you still here?”

“I want to make sure you get in.”

She stared at him for a second longer and it made him feel warm but he pushed it down. She unlocked the door and turned towards him. He waved at him and they didn't break eye contact until she closed the door. He ran his fingers through his hair and took out a cigarette. He watched the smoke go up into the dark sky to touch the stars. He wondered if the stars understood his feelings at this moment. He watched one of the stars twinkle and he shook his head looking down at the pavement. That would be a yes. The next step was just going home and that’s when the sky decided to cry.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Yoongi, why did you do it?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything and continued to watch Y/N patching his hands as he sat on the nurse's bed. Y/N was annoyed with Yoongi and it was clear to him. Yoongi hated that she was annoyed with him but this was different. Yoongi hissed in pain and he watched her roll her eyes, “Y/N-”

“No, Yoongi. Why do you put yourself in harm's way all the time?”

An hour ago

Yoongi and Namjoon were walking to their class. It was a simple day, art and music. Yoongi’s favorite classes. Seokjin came out of nowhere and was out of breath looking at them with wide eyes. Yoongi glanced at him and then at Namjoon with a confused face, “Dude are you good?”

“Y/N needs help.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened at this and he dropped his bag in a rush, “Where?”

“Lunch-”

Yoongi didn’t let him finish his sentence and he ran towards the lunch court. He felt eyes on him but they didn’t matter. He slammed open the door and ran towards the group of people in the middle of the room. He pushed people out of the way to see Jun yelling at Y/N who was frightened. He didn’t even know why Jun was yelling at her but he didn’t care. Y/N was scared. That’s all he saw.

He pushed Jun to the floor and he started to punch Jun with all his strength. All his anger came forward and Jun was going to regret it, “I told you to stay away from her!” He kept at it until he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He stopped and slowly turned around to see Y/N with tears going down her face. He shot up and went straight towards her, “Y/N are you okay?”

She didn’t say anything and slowly picked his hand up to analyze them. She frowned, “You’re hurt...let me fix you up.”

She grabbed his wrist and walked out of the lunch court with pure silence following them. The silence was killing Yoongi. He was so used to hearing her voice lately that the silence was hurting him now. He would do anything to hear her voice, mad or happy.

“Yoongi, why did you do it?”

“No, Yoongi. Why do you put yourself in harm's way all the time?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her gaze. She shook her head at this and put the final bandage on his finger, “People care about you-”

“I don’t care about what others think.”

She looked up and stared into his eyes (it felt like he could melt from the intensity), “Fine. I care about you Yoongi. Every time I hear you got into a fight, I worry for you. You have to know I care about you.”

“Y/N-”

“Yoongi, I care about you so much...can’t you believe me? I care about you.” Yoongi had heard his father say he cared about him shit, he heard Namjoon say it to him but this right here was different. The way that she was looking at him was something he had never experienced before. She reached over to cup his face and he flinched a little at the sudden touch. He glanced at her hands and then at her face with a confused look. She licked her lips and took a deep breath. She leaned forward to take his face into her hands and she closed her eyes, gently kissing him.

His mind went blank at her lips. He stood there unresponsive staring at her face now that she was so close. It was clear that she wasn’t giving up because she stayed kissing his lips. After a moment to comprehend, he closed his eyes and started kissing back.

Her hands brushed along his biceps and she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groaned at the feeling and of having her pressed against him. He slowly brought her down on her back with the soft white cotton giving her comfort. He rolled on top of her and he didn’t want this moment to end. Without thinking he brushed his tongue against her lips and he felt her smile. She opened her mouth to let him roam around her mouth as she brought her hands against his chest and he started to kiss his neck, “Yoongi...”

He loved this feeling but deep down he knew this was wrong. This was Namjoon’s little sister. His everything and he was clear that she was off limits. He couldn’t love her. How could a heart like hers like him? This couldn’t happen...she deserved better.

“Shit.” He pulled away, getting off of her. As he sat on the edge of the bed with his jaw tense. She frowned at this and sat up with a worried expression, “Yoongi? Are you okay?”

The door opened and Y/N stood up quickly to see Namjoon coming in with a cold soda in his hand. He glanced at Yoongi and frowned, “Dude, you alright? I heard you were fighting Jun...he deserved it.”

Yoongi looked up at Namjoon and stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say to him. He was just kissing his little sister. How could he do that? He felt his hand being pried open and felt two small objects in his palm. He glanced down to see two motrin. He looked up to see Y/N giving him a small smile, “That should help. I’m going to the library, get better.”

He watches her give him a final smile and gives Namjoon a small rub of a shoulder. He looked away and listened to the door closing. Namjoon looked down at his hands and shook his head, “Did Y/N patch you up?”

“Yeah...”

“Thank you for beating the crap out of him. No one messes with my sister and gets away from it.”

“Yeah...”

That night Yoongi found himself at the club alone with a whiskey in his hand. His mind kept going back to the kiss. That kiss made his heart beat so fast and his pale skin turned red. It made him feel and he knew having feelings, especially these ones are only trouble. He chugged his whiskey and ran his fingers through his hair roughly. The dim lights of the club helped his hazed out mind but he knew it wasn’t enough.

He felt a touch on his arm and he glanced to see a girl looking at him. It was a look he was used to and he knew it would help him right now, “Hey Yoongi.”

“Hey....”

She leaned towards him and the smell of alcohol made him want to get sick. She gave him a smile with a head tilt, “I’m Sarah. We have music class together.”

“That’s cool.”

She placed her hand on top of his and winked at him, “Do you want to leave here?”

“Sure.”

She stood up from the chair and Yoongi followed her out of the club. She kept talking about something but Yoongi wasn’t really paying attention to her. His mind kept going back to how Y/N looked at him. They went inside her car and they started to kiss. The kiss couldn’t even come close to the kiss he had with Y/N. This kiss was filled with loneliness and with Y/N it was liquid fire.

He watched her take off her top and he was thankful the light from outside was covering her. The feeling of guilt was eating at him but he had to let Y/N go. This was Namjoon’s little sister. She didn’t deserve him. Why did this hurt so much?

He grabs a tit and a moan echoes through the empty car. He felt her fingers going through his hair and his mind kept flashing back to Y/N. He shook his head at this and lifted up her thigh making it easier for him to sneak between her legs. When his cock entered, she couldn’t help but moan out loud. He groaned when he felt her clenching and he felt how wet she was. She arched her back and he ran his hand against her stomach to her chest. He pinched her nipple and she couldn’t help but quiver. She felt her orgasm coming and the clenching made Yoongi ready to burst. The faster this is done, the faster he can drink away the guilt.

“Gonna cum, get off.”

She nodded her head and got off him. She leaned towards him to suck him off and Yoongi didn’t stop her. He grabbed a fist full of hair and started to push her down causing her to gag at his cock. He leaned his head back and let out a moan but his mind couldn’t stop him, “Y-Y/N.”

When she licked her lips she glanced at him, “Do you want to go back to my place?”

“No...”

He tucked himself back in his pants and got out of the car without another word. He didn’t even care if she was hurt at the moment. He didn’t care about much.

The next morning, he sat in his room as his mind nagged him. He had to talk to Y/N and he had no idea how he was going to address things. That kiss that happened was the greatest thing that happened to him but it could never be repeated. She was already changing him and he hated that.

He walked towards the library knowing she was going to be there. He walked up to the fifth floor to see Y/N studying biology with her classmate. She was dressed in a light pink cardigan and simple dark blue skinny jeans. Her pink cardigan and his leather jacket were a clear indication of how opposite they were. It was cliche but it was true. She could never love him. He wouldn’t let her.

“Can we talk?”

Y/N turned around and he watched a wide smile appear on her face, “Yeah, I’ll be right back, Joy.”

The pair walked away and he glanced over his shoulder to see her looking down at the ground with shyness. They walked until they were at the end of the room and they were hidden by the bookshelves. They were silent and she glanced at his face and then towards the ground, “Are you mad at me?”

“No...I just wanted to talk.”

“Was it about yesterday?”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “What happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

“What?”

“I said it can’t happen again.”

She glared at him and she placed her hands on her hips, “What made you decide?”

Yoongi felt his jaw tense and stared at the books behind her, “This shit, it’s not going to work.”

She raised her eyebrow at this and shook her head, “You kissed back...I want you to be honest with me right now, Yoongi.”

“You think I’m lying!”

“I know you are. You’re scared-”

“I’m not scared!” He knew that was bullshit but she couldn’t know the truth. He watched her look away from him and he was nervous that she was going to cry. One tear and it was over for him. He would do anything to keep that tear away.

“Yoongi, I want you,” she whispered a shout in his face causing his face to flush. That’s what he always wanted to hear from her but he couldn’t do it. It just couldn’t happen.

“I’m Namjoon’s best friend-”

“I don’t give a damn. He can get over it...can’t you just give me a chance?”

He looked back at her and saw the determination on her face. This was the most honest he has ever seen Y/N. He couldn’t help but glance down at her lips and then back at her eyes. She shook her head and then she closed the gap between them. He was taken back but her lips against his felt right. His mind was telling him to push her off but his heart couldn’t agree with him. He started to kiss back and he ignored his thoughts for a minute.

She let out a small gasp when she felt his tongue but quickly granted access. He pulled her body closer (if that was possible). He felt her arms around his neck and he pushed her against the bookshelves. He moved down to her neck and started nipping at the soft skin. She brushed her hands through his hair and she kissed the top of his head. His hands started to travel and when he reached her ass, he couldn’t help himself to give it a squeeze. She gasped out loud and seeing this, he brought his lips back to hers. He reached underneath the back of her cardigan but quickly set her down gently when he heard voices.

“Fuck.”

She looked up at him with that same dazed expression she had yesterday, “I won’t back down.”

He looked into her eyes and realized he had matched his match with stubbornness. He looked away from her gaze, “Fine. Do what you want.” He narrowed his eyes at her while he placed his hands against the shelves, trapping her.

She bit her lower lip and wrapped her arms around his neck while they stared at each other. She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “I will.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Yoongi, are you sure you should be doing this?”

“My dad wants it. He said it's urgent.”

Namjoon sighed and leaned against his couch, “It’s raining though-”

“I won’t take my motorcycle. I have my car.”

“What’s going on?”

Yoongi turned his head and saw Y/N looking at him with a worried look. She was in her pajamas and she was leaning against the wall staring at Yoongi. He sighed and glanced down at the floor, “Nothing-”

“His dad wants him to deliver this box to him but it's pouring rain. I told him he shouldn’t go but his dad needs it.”

She glanced at her brother and then back at Yoongi, “Are you sure it’s all right to go alone?”

“Y/N, I’ll be fine okay? Don’t worry.”

She sighed at this and looked away from him, “Just be careful...”

Namjoon sighed and stood up from the couch, “I gotta call Heejin. She keeps texting me, Yoongi, just be careful. Text me when you get there.”

Yoongi nodded his head and watched Namjoon walk away in disappointment. He knew Namjoon was angry at his decision but Namjoon knew he couldn’t control him. Yoongi was also the type of man that if he said he was going to do something, he was going to do it. Regardless of what it was.

Yoongi listened for the door to close and he turned towards Y/N looking at him with softness, “I’ll be going.”

“Come back safe. It’s raining really hard.”

He nodded his head at this and the way she cared for him was making him feel safe. His instincts were telling him to act on his feelings. He walked up towards her to see her eyes looking at him with confusion but he leaned in and kissed her. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist and let his heart do the talking. It was clear she was nervous about this trip and he hoped the kiss would make her feel better.

When they pulled away he looked into her eyes and smiled, “It will be okay.”

“Okay...make sure you text Namjoon.”

He gave her a teasing smile, “You don’t want me to text you?”

“If you want. I don’t want to force you.”

“I’ll text you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He opened the door and turned around to give her a small wave. She returned it with a smile. He closed the door and let out a small sigh. He glanced forward and saw the rain was causing small flooding but his dad needed the package. He would help him especially since he was paying for his college.

The drive there was slow and the rain wasn’t stopping at any time. He took a sip of his coffee as he stopped at the stop light. It wasn’t busy out which makes sense because of the weather. He was thankful for that. The light turned green and he pulled up to go. Out of nowhere, a person came on the other side and with the rain, they couldn’t stop. He saw the headlights and then darkness.

“Namjoon, let me see him!”

“Y/N he’s-”

“Let me see him. Now.”

Yoongi groaned at the sound and slowly sat up. Under his palms, he felt softness and he realized he was in a bed. He turned his head to see that he was in a hospital. He was confused but he didn’t care, he heard how distressed Y/N sounded, “Y-Y/N?”

The curtains were ripped open and he saw Y/N’s eyes red, “Yoongi? Oh my god, you made me so worried.”

She walked towards his bedside table and went to pour water into a cup for him. Yoongi glanced at her and noticed that her hands were shaking. He reached over and grabbed her wrist, “I’m okay...”

He watched her stand there until tears started to fall down her cheeks. He knew had to do something. He carefully pulled her towards him on the bed as she cried into his gown. He looked up to see Namjoon talking to his dad, he had some time with her, “Don’t cry.” He started to rub her back gently.

“I can’t help it. I told you before, I care about you, Yoongi.” Y/N suddenly took his hand into hers, placing a kiss on his knuckle, “I care so much.”

The curtains opened and Y/N slowly got up from the bed to see the doctor come in. He smiled at Yoongi and glanced at his clipboard, “You were lucky Mr. Min. Your previous shoulder injury wasn’t affected by this accident. Minor bruises and soreness. You can leave in the morning.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

He gave one final smile and left the room. Yoongi turned his head towards Y/N to see her already looking at him. He gave her a smile and nodded his head, “Told you I was fine.”

She let out a laugh and shook her head, “shut up.”

Namjoon and Yoongi’s dad entered looking at him with worry. Yoongi’s dad sat down on the bed and frowned, “I’m sorry Yoongi. I made my own son risk his life for a package.”

“Dad, it’s fine. I was the one that said I would do it. It’s my fault. I ignored Namjoon and Y/N.”

Namjoon sighed and shook his head, “At least your shoulder didn’t fucked up again.”

“I know, I'm grateful. I can leave tomorrow morning.”

Y/N smiled and took a step forward, “I’ll help you around your apartment.”

He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, “What about school?”

“Most of my assignments can be sent online. It’s fine.”

He looked at Namjoon who shrugged his shoulders, “Are you okay with that Yoongi?”

“Yeah, I am.”

He watched her gather the dishes and head out of his bedroom. It’s been a couple of hours since he’s been home and Y/N didn’t want to leave his side. Yoongi’s dad drove them home with Y/N sitting in the back with Yoongi. As they drove, Y/N placed her hand on his thigh and she placed her head on his shoulder. It was very domestic and he didn’t want to fight her anymore.

He was lying down in his bed as he waited for her to come back up. He was falling asleep due to the painkillers but he wanted to stay awake for her to come back. She quietly made her way over and sat on the bed, “You can go to sleep. I’ll be downstairs.”

“No, I want you here with me.”

She carefully leaned down, giving him a gentle kiss on his lips, “Go to sleep.”

“Stay with me.”

They were staring into each other’s eyes with soft smiles on their faces. They both leaned in and closed the gap between them. He slowly brushed his hand through her hair as she glided her tongue over his bottom lip. She trailed her fingers against his chest as his free hand brushed along her knee. He leaned forward to press his lips a bit harder but had to pull back, “Damn.”

“Are you alright?”

“Wrong movement.”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “Go to sleep, Yoon.”

“Stay with me.”

“Okay.”

Three days of Y/N being by his side and everything has been perfect. Today, he asked Y/N to get some fast food because he wanted to talk to Namjoon. This was going to change the course of their friendship, it can go good or bad. He heard footsteps coming up and he took a deep breath. Namjoon opened the door and smiled at him, “How are you doing?”

“I’m feeling better...it’s all thanks to Y/N.”

“Yeah, she’s a good nurse.” Namjoon sat on the bed carefully and noticed Yoongi was nervous. He turned his body towards him and gave him a worried look, “Are you good?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Namjoon raised his eyebrow and nodded his head, “Sure.”

Yoongi took a deep breath and rubbed his neck nervously, “Y/N-”

“You like my sister, right?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened at this and he wanted to leave the room, “W-What?”

Namjoon let out a small laugh and looked away from Yoongi, “I saw the way she looked at you...it was clear she had a crush but I don’t think it's just a crush anymore. I didn’t know you liked her until her birthday...I heard you in her bedroom that night. I saw the way you looked at her too. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Yoongi glanced down at his lap and sighed, “I’m sorry. I know she’s your sister and I didn’t want-”

“Yoongi, that would be lying to yourself. I wouldn’t want her with anybody else.”

“But she’s your little sister and I'm your best friend.”

Namjoon sighed and turned back to Yoongi, “I want her to be happy and I also want you to be happy. If you two want to be together, then go for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t hurt her or I will kill you.”

“I expected that.”

Yoongi entered the bedroom and she smiled when she saw Namjoon, “Oppa, why are you here?”

Namjoon smiled at her, “I was visiting Yoongi.”

“He looks better, doesn’t he?”

“He does. Are you coming back home tomorrow or the next day?”

She placed the food next to Yoongi and smiled at him, “The next day, is that okay?”

“It’s fine. I do miss you though.”

She let out a small laugh and sat on the bed next to Yoongi, “I miss you too but Yoongi needs me.”

Namjoon smirked at this and glanced at Yoongi with a teasing smile, “Yeah he does.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nighttime came by fast and Y/N was brushing her hair in Yoongi’s mirror. He watched from his bed with a smile, “You know, only Namjoon has been in my apartment.”

She raised her eyebrow and turned around in the chair to look at him, “Really? You haven’t brought your hookups here?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I would never bring them here.”

“I guess I’m special.”

“You are special, especially to me.”

Her eyes widened at this and she smiled at this, “Am I?”

He watched her put her brush back on the table and make her way to him. She climbed onto the bed with that teasing smile he loved, “You are special to me. You're my girl.”

He pulled her onto his lap and she raised her eyebrow, “I’m your girl?”

“If you want?”

She leaned down and kissed him. He deepened the kiss sliding his hands to her waist to her thighs. His fingertips were enjoying her soft skin and she gasped at the touch. He wanted her. Ever since he told her that he was not in pain anymore, his mind started to wander. She moved her hands up his pajama shirt and started to unbutton it. He pulled back a little and raised his eyebrow. She didn’t say anything but she leaned forward to meet his lips again.

After finishing his shirt, he pushed it down his shoulder letting her fingertips touch his pale skin. She moved her hands upwards and gently rubbed his shoulder. He held onto her waist and moved her shirt up to touch her skin. He moved to the hem of her top, slowly pulling the fabric upwards. Once he saw her in her bra, his heart stopped. She cupped his face and placed her lips on his. Their tongues twirling around each other.

His hands moved towards the back of her bra, unclasping the white lace. She tossed the bra to the sound and she looked at him with readiness. His hands replaced the fabric and she moaned, as she arched her back towards him. He smiled to himself when he saw that her breasts fit perfectly into his large hands. He rubbed his thumb over her right nipple, “Oh, Yoon.”

She felt his tongue on her sensitive numb while feeling his hands were feeling her up. He held back a groan hearing her say his name like that. It made him feel hard. He switched over to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. She held him close to her chest as if he was going to disappear. Their naked chests fully touched each other and they stared at each other. She smiled at him and he returned it. Kissing each other was the greatest discovery they both made.

He trailed his tongue between her breasts until he reached the top of her bottoms. His hand brushed her bare sides and he watched the bumps appear on her skin. He removed the piece of clothing and was met with her white lace. It’s amazing how white lace was the perfect thing to describe her. So innocent and gentle, that’s his Y/N.

“Yoon...”

He took off the underwear and he leaned down kissing her neck. She suddenly bucked against his hand when she felt him cupping her, “I want to take my time with you.”

She couldn’t respond when she felt his middle finger along her wet silt. She placed her hands on his shoulders, “Yoon, please.”

They slowly kissed but a gasp escaped when she felt a finger getting inserted, “Yoongi, I want you now, please.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes...but we need protection.”

He nodded his head and leaned forward to his nightstand to grab a condom. He took off his pants and placed the condom on as Y/N watched. She wrapped her legs around him and nodded her head at him. He looked into her eyes before entering and she gasped at the new feeling. His thrusts were slow and she noticed how tense he was. She leaned forward kissing the tip of his nose, “Don’t hold back, I want you Yoongi.”

He nodded his head and he started to quicken his pace. She had her eyes closed with her mouth parted due to the pleasure. Her moans echoed through the room and it created a song with the rain hitting the window. He moved his hand down and started to rub at her clit causing a loud moan to escape. He leaned down and kissed her lips as she moaned into his mouth. When their orgasms hit them both, time stopped. It was only them and the rain. She trailed her fingers down his back and kissed his shoulder.

“What are you smiling for?”

She smiled and cuddled into his chest, “I finally got my bad boy...”

Taglist:

@hoseokteardrop

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #Bts #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader

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ghostofasecretary · 5 months ago

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ok, let's keep this quick

- so like. i haven't had a day with No Obligations since the 18th. that's 10 days. tomorrow and the day after i'm working. i need A Break because i am Tired

- aaaaaaaah grad schools why do people keep telling me i'm cool and promising and they're enthusiastic about me and then i DON'T GET MONEY (or. well. i turned a place that gave me money down because of a potential supervisor leaving)

- i have so many loose threads. emails unanswered for months. i spent a fuckload of money on some stuff with the intent to make it back and Have Not Taken Steps to do that which is crappy, actually!! feels REALLY BAD! all the time bad! bad for months!

- i fucking hate letting things fester and my whole day except for poetry and a text convo has been festering

- which feels like a microcosm of my fucking life. which is unfair, probably, but. ya rab

- i straight up just? dissociated almost all the time between 6:30 and 10am??? that's not great!

- my job is getting me money, yay, but it's part time and also i keep going wildly between "i am winning" and "i'm so miserably bad at this and probably no one wants to work with me i keep fucking up i hate myself" and "hey now stop beating yourself up" and boredom and misgendering and "Holy Shit Man I Hate Your Politics So Much but i do care about you as a person! so! guess some of the Christianity stuck!!! hahahahahaha fuck my life"

- i don't know if i can a) get a job and b) move in time to maintain the illusion that grad school worked out for me but 1) i need to move yesterday, i haven't hugged a friend since fucking January, and 2) i was really hoping August would work out and i don't want to work longer. my whole year has been "well maybe i'll get answers and know what i'm doing next month!" and by year i mean. since. like. december 2023. although Applying To Grad School sure ate all of my energy for a long fucking time. so i'd LIKE to get a job and move in late August/early September. but also holy shit man

- i feel some duty to myself to still apply for more grad school jobs but i haven't had a spare afternoon with emotional support since. like. the first weekend of June. (i have had mornings with emotional support (thanks babe)) but i have been mostly using those for homework (and fugue states of misery (sorry.)) so, like. aaaaaa??????

- i'm so mad and scared and also, like, i don't have TIME to be mad and scared, i'm behind on things and also this is my short and precious life! there's people to talk to and good food to eat and nice clothes to wear and fiction to read! i don't want to waste it being upset! i've been upset since 2022, basically, and i'm really fucking tired of it!!!

- what if nothing ever works out and i'm broke forever and rely on my parents like my sister does and am an even worse resource drain and they don't get to retire and I DON'T MEET MY SELF IMPOSED DEADLINE FOR. LITERALLY 40 MINUTES FROM NOW.

- and tomorrow i have/want to be fucking chipper at people! because goddamn it, i actually genuinely want people to have their days be a bit more pleasant from interacting with me and i like running a smooth ship! when i'm not making mistakes, which i make more of when i'm tired and upset!! gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

so. that's a lot of self-loathing and fear and frustration. uh. i don't know that this. resolved anything, aside from me saying the crazy out loud (and yes, i DO KNOW where the crazy is, but going "well don't be crazy" to myself is deeply unhelpful since it turns into another beating stick so. alas)

but i guess now i'll. work on my goals????

#ghost speaks #bad brains blogging #feelings sorting

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h0usehlpp0 · 1 year ago

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Your Graduation

woah woaah lunch club fanfiction? in 2023? thats crazy i know, im reuploading from ummm my ao3 giggles

It was mid June, the school year was coming to an end and there sat a group, Travis, Schlatt, Noah, Ted, Cooper, and Charlie. A group of seniors everyone at their small high school that everyone always sees together, but right now it’s the evening of grad day, they’ve all walked across the stage, they all had their respective parties with family, celebrating a big milestone. Now the skies turning red and pink, and they’re all sat in the back of Ted’s truck on an old back road surrounded by fields, Coopers car parked next to the truck, they all got their respective drinks and had just finished passing around a blunt.

“So.. We did it.”

Noah says, sipping on his red solo cup filled with god knows what. Cooper lets out a breathless laugh and nods, looking at the setting sun. “My dad really didn’t think i’d graduate. No one did.” Cooper was a known stoner in their small town, a lot of their group were, but coopers dad was, to put it simply, a major fucking asshole. Everyone had something to push for;

Cooper wanted to prove his dad wrong, become something more than a drop out.

Noah wanted to get away from his alchie mom.

Travis wanted to get away from the school, the teachers.

Schlatt wanted to get away from his brother who was a piece of shit and his guardian.

Ted wanted to get out of their small ass hick town.

Charlie wanted to get away from foster care.

They all just wanted to get away.

This town fucked them up, it was a fight to survive, it was sneaking out during the night and meeting at the old run down playground because one of them didn’t feel safe at home whether it was because of the adults they lived with or it was because of themselves. They fought to keep each other above water, and now they’re getting closer to the shore.

“What now?” Travis asks, looking around at all the other boys, the people he grew up with, his best friends, his family.

“Well… Why don’t we leave?” Charlie says easily, with a shrug. “Leave? We can’t just leave, can we?” The curly haired brunette asks, bewildered.

“I mean, we’re all 18, we’re all graduated, none of us have anymore commitments here. We could!” Charlie says, smiling brightly as he explains it all.

Ted sat silently watching the exchange, looking over at Schlatt silently before nodding at his friends. “We can, we could load up all our vehicles as much as we can with basics, grab our important shit and we could leave tonight?”

Schlatt grins, a shine in his eye that hasn’t been seen in a while. “Let’s fuckin do it.”

“Wh- Really? We- We can just, leave?” Travis asks, awe in his eye, excitement in his voice.

“Let’s do it.”

And so, that’s exactly what they did, they all packed a suitcase and a backpack full of basics things they would need and they were gone. Ted, Cooper and Schlatt all had their own vehicles, so they divided. Travis rode with Schlatt, Charlie rode with Ted and Noah rode with Cooper, sitting on a call all together, not sure where they were all going but god did they feel alive. Soon everyone had gone quiet and was focused on driving, but in Schlatts truck Travis was watching the stars as Schlatt drove. Travis looked at the taller boy.

“Will you miss it?” He asks, his voice soft as he looks ahead, seeing coopers car in front of Schlatts on the highway.

“Miss what?” Schlatt asks, he wants out and he knows they all had, to be frank, a shit time growing up there.

“The good times, and maybe the bad. Like… you and Noah’s robot club and going to watch Charlie ‘n Ted’s theatre plays and Cooper’s slam poetry and just… The good y’know?”

Schlatt nods, smiling weakly, a hole in his chest there. “I- Yeah Trav, I will miss it. But we’ll find somewhere that feels even more like home.”

The smaller man nods processing his words, “yeah, you’re right.”

Then the two fell into a silence.

Minutes turned to hours, everyones passengers were asleep, but the sun was beginning to rise, enjoying their peace. But soon, the peace was interuppted by Teds phone buzzing over and over, then Schlatt’s and so on. Cooper looked at his phone, seeing it was his parents, and just declining. The blonde thought about his life so far, he’s freshly graduated, god and now he basically fucking ran away with his friends?

At least he’s with people who cares, they don’t care if he smokes, or if he can’t control his impulse or if he isn’t that good at math.

They care if he’s safe and if he’s taking care of himself;

They care about him.

After about an hour everyone’s phones stopped buzzing.

Then after another hour they find a small city to stop at, to take a break for breakfast. Everyone parks and gets out to go into the small cafe, everyone orders their breakfast.

From afar it looks like a group of teen boys that look a mess, eyebags and messy hair.

But if you knew them, they look happier than they ever have been.

They look free.

They may not know where they’re going but they’re always home with each other.

#lunch club #schlatt fanfic #ted nvison fanfic #slimecicle fanfic #traves fanfic #cscoop fanfic #hugbox fanfic #smplive #not maintagging bc id rather die #meooow um um #mcyt fanfiction

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gaykarstaagforever · 18 days ago

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Fans of my Tumblr will remember when I did this post about Stawberry Hill House, a quaint gothic folly of an 18th century mansion, built by some Georgian turbo-nerd.

I didn't in that post do any discussion about what "gothic" actually means, because it is complicated and confusing and is applied to different things differently, depending on who is doing it. Suffice it to say now, it was an artistic trend of the second half of the 18th century, based on the First Industrial Revolution and the so-called The Age of Reason, where people counterintuitively got real into liking ancient ruins and dark medieval stuff and spooky things.

Before then, things were good or bad because the church or king said so; after we figured out the steam engine and medicine, we realized that demons weren't in fact responsible for 80% of everything, so being scared of them in principle was kind of a waste. Being scared of or liking ANYTHING in principle was goofy. Instead of everything being objectively a way, things are now subjectively a way, and how we feel and react to them gives them their REAL value.

Yeah it just goes on like this. Entire books of this shit. Secularism and capitalism (as a philosophy) come out of this. It ties in to why America's Founding Fathers suddenly felt like they could say "fuck the king for being jerk," while Thomas Jefferson sat there crossing out all the stuff about miracles in the Bible and giggling.

But it ALSO meant that if you wanted to be into ghosts or the histories of banned religions, or do drugs and think your drug-dreams mattered, go for it, landed gentry! Weird things are fun and exciting, instead of risking your immortal soul! What if there are beasts? What if WE are the beasts?!

Yes, this is where the idea of modern horror has its earliest pop-cultural roots. In 1764, Horace Walpole - the guy who built Strawberry Hill - wrote The Castle of Otranto, which he styled "a Gothic Novel." It was partially based on a scary dream he had while at Strawberry Hill, involving random giant pieces of medieval armor being in his bedroom. ...Which is one of those things that doesn't sound scary, but you damn well know it totally would be if you had a nightmare about it while sleeping in your whimsical fairy house.

The Castle of Otranto was an immediate hit. With the first edition, Walpole published it under a pseudonym and claimed it was an English translation of a Renaissance Italian work. In subsequent editions he dropped the pretense and admitted he just wrote it, which didn't hurt sales but pissed off all the literary critics who had been tricked. ...Which is funny, so good on him. But they immediately changed their reviews of it to "awesome" to "this totally sucks and is stupid."

Which either means they were unprofessionally pissy, or they had been generous initially, and now knowing it wasn't a translation, were eager to admit that, other than the fun crazy stuff, it isn't very good.

Yes, even for 1764. Walpole is intentionally going for an arch, dated, Shakespearean style, to fit his made up date (the 16th century) for the original Italian. And, man - it sounds like what happens when someone does that.

Shakespeare was writing in iambic pentameter. It was performance poetry, so it sounded like that to fit the rhythm and be compelling on stage. Minus those two demands, everyone who apes the style just uses big weird words for everything, and everyone talks too much about nothing in an attempt to have speeches or be funny, and the goddamn thees and thous...!

The Castle of Otranto gets worse as it goes along. I'm a third of the way through this 4 hour audiobook version, and every single scene is someone important and the help taking 10 minutes to discuss a thing we all just saw happen. It's like if the guy writing the King James Bible was getting paid by the word.

Modern critics and book fans almost universally agree it is "virtually unreadable." I wouldn't go that far. It is generally coherent and does characters well. But there is no hint of any kind of pacing, and the plot is one inexplicable thing happening to obviously disturbed people after another, with extended breaks for them to Hamlet Whine about it.

The story literally starts with a giant Renaissance armor helmet falling from the sky and exploding a man on his wedding day. Which sounds fun and fascinating. But neither the author or the story are seemingly interested in that as anything other than an ominous trope that triggers a bad, confusing soap opera.

At least so far. There are six chapters and I'm only into the second one, and it is a rough listen. More weird things happen, but so far it could just be one family and their comedy servants going mad, and all of the dozen characters are starting to run together, and people seem to keep teleporting around, and about half of the action takes place between scenes, and someone has to explain what happened to someone else.

I guess as a gothic novel plot, "spooky weird soap opera about crazy people in a gross house" is par for the course. But this first attempt at that has a few flaws.

Check it out (pretty sure a real person is reading this, due to audio issues and funny pronounciation / accent choices. It's fine). Free pdfs are easily available too, though I hear the formatting is especially weird and makes it harder to read. I haven't looked.

Trigger warnings: gore, attempted SA, the kind of confusing misogyny only the 18th century could produce.

And that's just the first hour!

youtube

Also ESOTERICA did a video about the book and the Gothic aesthetic in general a month ago, which is what inspired me to try the book. He goes into detail about the philosophical side of gothicism, if you are interested in trying to keep up with that.

youtube

#gothic #spooky #halloween #the castle of otranto #georgian #english history #Youtube

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yeuktaaa · 2 years ago

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INDIGO / RM Lyrics

01 Yun (with Erykah Badu)

Fuck the trendsetter I'mma turn back the time Back the time, far to when I was nine Back then when there were only good and bad things I think I was more human back then Finger pointing from this side Pointing to that mountain, saying it's the place I need to go now That's where you belong Oh you gon' be alone if If you insist on the sincerity that is nothing Without the team, you are actually nothing You try to take the trail from the highway Just listen to me and lose it all As always, you go with the flow, you get better Fuck that shit, the lifestyle of Etrangers My place is always the borderline pipeline I still dream a dream that is not allowed dance where no one sees

You keep the silence 'Fore you do something' You be a human Till the death of you

I wanna be a human 'Fore I do some art It's a cruel world But there's gon' be my part Cuz true beauty is a true sadness Now you could feel my madness

He always said, be human first Don't think about art, play and feel the joys and sorrows What is it with the techniques What is it with the skills What is it with all the words In your lyrics that you can't feel? I don't know what the truth you said is just My speed and direction on the way You're dead, but to me you the fuckin' contemporary Still alive and flowing here permanently To those who stand above all these boundaries I hand over my night that I had to spend The twinkling flame will someday go to the ground Caesar's is Caesar burnt heart I write poetry on top of the ashes A life that went through the lines of death To the things you finally left on this earth I also just want to be a better adult

You keep the silence 'Fore you do something' You be a human Till the death of you

I wanna be a human 'Fore I do some art It's a cruel world But there's gon' be my part Cuz true beauty is a true sadness Now you could feel my madness

02 Still Life (with Anderson .Paak)

I'm still life I'm still life I'm still life I'm still life

I'm still life, but I'm movin' Just live now, goin' forward yeah still life that does not stop Bloom again my flower Gimme no name cuz I'm untitled my life on display still life still life

The past is gone, I don't know the future I catch my breath at the fork in the road I want to escape the frame of this canvas The shadow cast over me by yesterday and tomorrow I just calmly live errtime 24/7 yeah baby I'm on time I just live today, every minute and every second Bet everything you have, what you know about me huh?

I'm still life Ya can't lock me in the frame, I'm movin' I'm still life Life is better than the death, I'll prove it I'm still life, but I'm movin' Just live now, goin' forward yeah still life that does not stop Bloom again my flower I'm still life, but I'm movin' Just live now, goin' forward yeah still life that does not stop Yo I never stop bay, let's get it now

Errday is my day 1, brotha Baby I buy time with money Don't listen to their mockery, throw away your ears Be sure to buggers risk their lives online Trendsetter? I'm a friend, better A go-and-getter to the point of being fed up In the end, it didn't turn out what you wanted Unlike the way I wish, they live so well, according to my will huh 94 livin' in Hannam-daero 91 look at my solid I have nothing to go to, Gangnam-daero now If your rent is overdue, leave the room immediately What a poor flex hon' look at yo chain Me rather do it like “Look at my stain” Live today like weeds Just like a flower but I never stay

03 All Day (with Tablo)

Okay Ads these days are the same For now, enjoy it as you like Nice dancers in nice clothes There are more bodies outside It just became a habit, I don't care You know, those guys do care more In fact, the body is nothing, the mind is more of a problem uh yeah i don't know me huh fuck off artificial intelligence fuck the algorithm I need contemplation, fuck all the rhythm My biorhythm doesn't give me time to think When will I be able to write my own poem? Forgotten dreamin' You too have become a star If you're looking for something buried Honey you taste it like me

Okay, okay I'm diggin' all day Okay, okay I'm findin' real me Okay, okay I'm singin' all day Okay, okay (let's go) All day All day All day All day

what mood is this What we doin' here? Everything has to be in place full neutral gear They want you in fear Where dare you tell me what you think? Fold it up, origami They got you by your balls & your socioeconomics That's big facts Think tanks that stepped on the characteristics The personal impact that has cooled down Light a bigger fire, your life is a big match Burn it up, what are you afraid of? Get yo ass off the bench, start warmin' up We gotta fight when they say, “Behave!” We got dynamite in our DNA I'mma be okay, I'mma be that way I'll open my eyes and take care of myself Haters, hurry up and close your eyes If you don't want to see my life Originally, things like dreams are hard to see with your eyes open Ya feel me?

Okay, okay I'm fightin' all day Okay, okay Get outta my way Okay, okay I'm livin' my way Okay, okay (let's go) All day All day All day All day Live your life

When the cruel world seems to be laughing at you No matter what the world says, we fly You gotta believe it You gotta be livin' You gotta believe it You gotta be dreamin' You gotta believe it You gotta be feelin' We know we fly all day

04 Forg_tfulness (with Kim Sawol)

I keep forgetting about yesterday I don't even know today I keep forgetting the me of yesterday I'm only twenty-six Why can't you remember my friends are sad I'm sorry, I have so many thoughts my memory is low with numerous thorns Ogoyama morning and in their own ways anesthetize yourself

I can't go to the park I like the color of nature It's all a matter of time anyway you will need it too Do you remember the smell of grass as a child? It will be quite new yes, just forget about it Everyone here is a fool with numerous thorns Ogoyama morning and in their own ways anesthetize yourself

with numerous thorns Ogoyama morning and in their own ways anesthetize yourself

me, me, me, me, me me me me me me me, me, me, me, me me me me me me

05 Closer (with Paul Blanco, Mahalia)

I get a feelin' sometimes That I can't get close enough to you I feel it most in the nighttime Even though that's when I'm closest to you If I could be under your skin Closer than we've ever been We'd be closer than we've ever been

I feel it most in the nighttime Me never on your timeline See you always in the limelight Keep me rollin' in the deep Not a tease, no joke, I do mean it Don't cease, baby don't, why you floatin'? Wanna lock you up in my sight But you run away like fish, yeah

I keep you right next to me Only just in my dream I see you in red, blue, green Don't wake me up from sleep I think I'm losin' my grip Everything off the beam Why you showed up in my life Like this so sudden, oh god no

Come holla at a yungin from the block baby Say the time don't wait for nobody Oh I bet you thought baby But the time gon' stop When you and I make our lips lock baby (Trust me) And once again you made me misplace my pride baby (So trust me) Promised myself never again But you got me doing the same thing all over again And I make her body di di diddy diddy bop Di di diddy diddy bop I wanna show you how I gets down Baby girl come on (Come on and oh)

If love ain't for us I'll be satisfied with this I don't need your touch I just need your love (Come closer, come closer)

If this is all we can do Yeah just lookin' at you There's gon' be no take two Stay where you are

Stay where you are Just stay where you are Stay where you are Stay where you are Stay where you are Just stay where you are

06 Change pt.2

Things change, people change, everything change Things change, people change, everything change Love change, friends change, everyone change It is no strange That's the world's shape

I can't believe I loved you once Fool me once, then fool me twice Shame on you yeah shame on me Think I lost my sanity Chemistry we had for sure Gradually we wanted more They say you can't fix someone Seems you got one fit you right

Fuck my interviews in years ago I'm whole different, not that anymore F that wiki fuck all those infos What a stranger, I don't know this fool

Things change, people change, everything change Things change, people change, everything change Love change, friends change, everyone change It is no strange That's the world's shape

You gotta admit it Don't you get it still Someday a great grief will do come for you And then you'll know it too You can't love someone like I do That's all I can say to you

07 Lonely

I'm fuckin' lonely alone on the island So fuckin' lonely Somebody call me

in fleeting eternity It's neatly packed I hate this hotel room floating alone in loud horn as wide as the narrowed room I'm stuck on me

I tried a million times to let you go So many memories are on the floor And now I hate the cities I don't belong Just wanna go back home

I'm fuckin' lonely alone on the island So fuckin' lonely Somebody call me

Oh bae, I gotta tell you some i hate everything Uh yeah, guess I'm wasted Time fuckin' ticks and I hasten All Day YouTube & Netflix Just another date with the data in the phone Rendezvous with every morning My Moulin Rouge turning red

I shot a million stars to let you know So many trivial thoughts are on the floor And now I hate the buildings I don't even know Just wanna go back home

I'm fuckin' lonely alone on the island So fuckin' lonely Somebody call me

I'm fuckin' lonely alone on the island So fuckin' lonely Somebody love me

08 Hectic (with Colde)

Yesterday was a hectic There was nothin' romantic If I can just find a reason To keep this endless chasin' Yesterday was a hectic There was nothin' romantic If I could only imagine Just one another heaven

My shy smile again old memories of people who have nothing to say Liquor talks spinning around Feeling like dying one more day Olympic Boulevard at night Bold lights, violent taxis Tired of it now

Met the people, people, people (Talkin' same shit) Hate the reason, reason, reason (That they all spit) If bornin' is a pain How should we do this game Keep on thinkin', thinkin' and I

not knowing where to go an attempt to write down It's become the road I've been walking in past memories The day I don't want to get lost anymore save me

Met the people, people, people (Talkin' same shit) Hate the reason, reason, reason (That they all spit) If bornin' is a pain How should we do this game Keep on thinkin', thinkin' and I

Hangover's over The sensual posture of this city nocturne for sad night Seoul We miss another day knowing Ay what is happiness The little peace I've been longing for Leave those whose hearts have faded The starry night we finally embroidered Close your eyes as if dreaming hold your breath gently of people dancing walking in a curve flow Even if I can't hold on We still love and hate this city, yeah

09 Wildflowers (with youjeen)

Flower field, that's where I'm at Open land, that's where I'm at No name, that's what I have No shame, I'm on my grave When your feet don't touch the ground When your heart overtakes you When dreams engulf me when i'm not me all those times

I longed for the flame I just wanted to shine I imagined it even before it started I hope you can smile and clap at the end i wished When everything I believed in went far away When all this honor is now a yoke Please take away this greed no matter what oh let me be me Oh every day and every night Persistin' pain and criminal mind The night I couldn't sleep at the sound of my heart The blue crescent moon hanging outside the window I do wish me a lovely night A life that has grown bigger than my fountain I try to hold on to the flying balloon over there Ask, ask, where are you now? Where you go, where's your soul Yo where's your dream?

I want to scatter in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork dazzle in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork

Where will that end be for me? I'm fed up with everything, one by one When will this disgusting mask come off? Yeah me no hero, me no villain I am nothing Idling is repeated, memories are violent I lay down and cast my gaze into the field, above the sky I can't remember what I wanted All the happiness I believed I got was only for a moment Yeah I been goin', no matter what's in front whatever it was Memories of holding on to the hem of dawn and spitting out something A society of loud voices i still say silence This is a prince, a mature sailboat To reach all misunderstandings and prejudices I'm not happy, I want to rinse you my feet are here on the ground with nameless flowers I can't go to the stars again, I can't Underfoot I just go to an aimless destination I don't even know you're sad Even the shadows are friends I be gone

I want to scatter in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork dazzle in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork

I suddenly stopped and saw my brilliant bare feet Originally nothing was mine And don't tell me like you gotta be someone 'Cause I'll never be like them (Light a flower) yes my beginning is The only power and dream that has protected me so far (Light a flower) From burning flames to wild flowers boy to eternity I will remain in this desolate field oh i will come back someday

I want to scatter in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork dazzle in the sky Light a flower, flowerwork Flower flowerwork

10 No.2 (with parkjiyoon)

Girl, don't look back anymore After passing through all those waves Even if countless things bother you now i will protect you

Girl, don't look back anymore Behind the vividly mixed memories These remaining lives remain like a bonus you did your best

Girl, don't look back anymore Which way will there be no regrets yeah you're not that special I won't cry at these words anymore I smile That I ain't gotta prove myself That I ain't the one, that I ain't the shit A child who was just hungry for recognition The mind that old people’s home will suit you better My balloon burst full of me After it exploded, I knew it was empty inside I asked endlessly, can it just flow Can I belong where I don't want to belong? Oh the melody that seemed to last forever yes me, my felony I've only learned one thing so far I'll be forever me All the accidents I believed were inevitable All those nights that were as long as eternity you did your best

Girl, don't look back anymore After passing through all those waves Even if countless things bother you now i will protect you

Girl, don't look back anymore Behind the vividly mixed memories These remaining lives remain like a bonus you did your best

So no No lookin' back, no No lookin' back, no No lookin' back Don't look back no more No lookin' back, no No lookin' back you did your best

So no No lookin' back, no No lookin' back, no No lookin' back Don't look back no more No lookin' back, no No lookin' back now i will protect you

Lyrics from - https://vibe.naver.com/album/8415971

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sunflowersandmirage · 2 years ago

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what your favorite proseka ship says about you

ichisaki: you will fight everyone who says leo/need is boring. JUST LOOK AT THESE TWO? THE POTENTIAL FOR DRAMA AND FLUFF? UNRIVALLED

shihonami: you melt everytime shiho compliments honami’s abilities. you know when you have them together in lives and shiho says something and honami squeals? you do, too

polyneed: you’re very smart you love these girls and think they deserve to be happy (and also three girlfriends) also you probably think going from a four-way divorce to all dating is really funny

minoharu: your favorite kind of dynamic is goddess x mess of a lesbian. also ships where they both admire one another but one of them thinks they’re unworthy and/or the other doesn’t think as highly of them but in reality they adore them as much, if not more >>>>>>>>

shizuai: your favorite dynamic is boke x tsukkomi with a healthy dose of drama

minoshizu: you think the lack of braincells is what makes this ship so good. also the one who felt like she had to lie to be liked and the one who does her best but no one seems to support her? mwah

polyjump: SCANDALOUS! these four idol girls are IN LOVE AND THRIVING!

anhane: you want a relationship like theirs SO BAD, you’re so ready to hype the hell out of your potential s/o SO BAD!!! that or you just like galpals who are actually girlfriends

akitoya: you either hate when people call toya “blue todoroki” or you not only keep doing it, but also cackle everytime anyone does it. the romantic “bro” “bro...” exchange is where love peaked, actually

akian/toyahane/akikoha/antoya: holy shit you have a ton of willpower good luck going on tiktok dude

ruikasa: hee hee they make the nb flag- you think there’s an inherent romantic aspect of blowing stuff together (even though that “stuff” tends to be one of you...)

emunene: opposites attract and funky hair colors are your SHIT you probably also fall asleep reading fluff

emurui: you firmly believe there’s an inherent romantic aspect in causing chaos and the downfall of all human beings... probably

ruinene: say it with me, folks! CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS! CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS! also, you never fail to notice that voice rui uses when talking to her

polyshow: you saw all these candy coloured idiots and went “you know what’s the best outcome to this? all of them kissing each other”

sakurako/literally anyone in wxs: you think sakurako deserves a banner. and you’re right. special mention to sakunene (they sing love songs together claiming its “practice”) and sakukasa (they scream each other’s names and then kiss)

kanamafu: you kin mafuyu. i have not seen a person who loves kanamafu and doesn’t kin mafuyu. what’s up with you guys. are you okay (no you aren’t you kin mafuyu. my best wishes)

mizuena: WHY DOESN’T MIZUKI TELL HER THEIR SECRET WHY DOESN’T MIZUKI TELL HER THEIR SECRET WHY DOE-

kanaena: remember what i said at shihonami with the lives? you, but when ena uses The Kanade Voice. also, like anhane, you’re ready to support your s/o, if you want one!

mizumafu: just think of it for a minute... the one who’s ostracized because they stick to their real self and the one who’s praised for a fake and doesn’t know who she is... IT’S POETRY! ROMANCE!

kanamizu: kinda like kanaena, you love how supportive they are of one another. carnation recollection is most likely your favorite event as well.

mafuena: you like rivals to lovers but in the sense that one of them wants to rip the other’s throat and said other is just chilling, busy with their own problems (and then they come to understand one another and kiss)

mizurui: you’re SO SAD for middle school them. they were IN LOVE damn IT they’re so PRECIOUS LOOK AT HOW MUCH THEY’VE GROWN...!

mizuruikasa: why should mizurui and ruikasa fight, when they can all kiss each other?

anharu: you saw that one 1koma that was like “friends and rivals!” and you went oh. oh i can make something out of this HEHEHEHEHE

kohamino: you believe in the inherent romanticism of taking care of little animals together

anhaneminoharu: listen. they go on double dates a lot, that is canon, we’re all sure, but what if... what if they took the double out of double dates?

mafukasa: have they met? no. does it matter? also no. you will whip out the analysis-es or type an entire essay yourself LOOK AT THEM, EVEN THEIR PALETTES ARE OPPOSITES? WHY ISN’T COLOPALE LETTING THEM ME-

kanahona: you believe in the inherent romanticism of being married before even dating

akikasa: you think the key to a good ship is making sure one of the parts is suffering every second because WHY THIS IDIOT I’M GONNA CRY IT COULD BE ANYONE, LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE, BUT NOOOO... and the other part is just. existing

mizumino: you think minoharu’s invalanced because minori is... minori, so maybe she’d be better off with a fan who’s as excited as she is that she has a fan like that

aisakiemu: well, they got the valentine’s event! must’ve been for a reason! also they’re so pink and so cute and so precious... they would be so adorable together, listen!

mizuakikasa: well, they got the white day event! must’ve been for a reason! you hate akito shinonome. (you say this in the most loving way possible)

polyleader: you don’t care anymore, you just want them to interact again, like, i swear, they interact once IN A YEAR, you’ll take ANYTHING. PLEASE

ichinene: their little singing lessons are so cute. when ichika compliments nene and she blushes! and when nene compliments ichika and she blushes!

kanaichi: they’re soulmates. yes, just because they both like miku and each other’s hair. that “i’ve heard that voice before...!” thing they have going on is so soulmatey, woah

mafushizu: you think shizuku would love mafuyu even after revealing who she really is to her. and she would. she understands her struggle and sympatizes with her. and then they kiss

kanamino: “she’s shining...!” and that’s all you needed to want them to kiss. kanade’s been trying to save people for too long. minori’s been trying to spread hope for too long. they can let the other rest. they can be the help they need

mizusaki: they’re both interested in fashion and they’d dress each other up in their styles! they’re soft pink gfs (gender neutral (?) and that’s what true love looks like. also, you’ve probably read that one akikasa fanfiction

toyakasa/sakitoya: ... good luck.

enairi: there’s something really beautiful in watching your friend grow into someone important, and being so proud, but noticing they don’t like what they’re doing, supporting them through it, and seeing them rise and do what they love again

shizukasa: you have colopale on a STRONGHOLD why don’t they interact more often they’re childhood friends they go to their sisters’ concerts together everytime they hang out and someone comes to bother shizuku tsukasa acts as if they’re looking for him until they leave them alone and then-

polypicnic: Mizuki’s Many Many Beautiful Girlfriends. it’s what they deserve, honestly!

polyfantasista: iranai, subete wa iranai ojike (ojike) dzuita yabo no try manzoku nante soko ni nai menimieru awarena miraiomoidori ni dekiru life-te ni dekiru ka wa anata shidai kakushi tari nanka wa shinai dare yori mo hokorashige ni dekiru maindohora kono sakai no naka hoka ni wanai tashikana mono jibun igai wa kaimu

#proseka #ruikasa #akitoya #anhane #project sekai #colorful stage #prsk #ughgughgughghguhgh #i am missing SO MANY ships but i think these are the most popular ones #maybe a part two? it's late and i'm sleepy #sorry for my absence i forgot i existed for a sec #trying to replicate my onehit wonder with proseka and realizing how wordy i've become lmao #anyway #i usually gloss over ships i don't like but there's a ship i LOATHE with a passion you won't guess which one it is #if you do i'll... idk. write an entire fic for you i guess! yeah. yeah i'll do that

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mermaid-trash · 3 years ago

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Thomas Thorne Soulmate!AU

AU where you only see colour after meeting your soulmate, sorry if this is bad 😅

Thomas Thorne X fem!reader

You're an event planner helping Alison out with the wedding business

It's your first day on the job and you show up at Button House

Alison meets you outside by your car

You bring up the rumours of the house being haunted and Alison tries to lie to you

"No, this house is just old, definitely no ghosts here, absolutely not..."

"oh....so who's that in the window?"

You point at Pat who had been watching you from the window and immediately collapses to the floor and hides from view

Alison just stares at you

"okay yeah, maybe there are ghosts here...but how can you see them?"

"I grew up in a haunted house, I've been able to see ghosts for as long as I can remember :)"

So you go inside and meet Pat and the other ghosts slowly arrive to greet you

Then Thomas walks in and your eyes meet and you both freeze

The other ghosts and Alison are just staring between the two of you

You stare at eachother for a solid minute before you get over the shock

EVERYTHING is so bright and colourful!

The emerald green of his cravat

The deep brown in his eyes

The deep red stained around the bullethole in his torso

"shit" you whisper

He looks you over and admires the colours you're wearing

Then he becomes aware of your eyes and he just about faints

Your eyes are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, only amplified by the vivid colour he can now see

Lines of poetry start shooting around in his brain, ricocheting and making it hard for him to do anything but stare

Eventually the other ghosts manage to pull your attention away from each other but you're still too shocked to talk

Alison starts talking to you about the business but you can hardly hear her

"excuse me Alison, could I have a word outside?" You manage to get out in as professional a tone you can muster

You walk back outside with Alison and hear the ghosts start loudly interrogating Thomas before the door closes behind you

"who was that?" You ask Alison, panic rising in your chest

"that was Thomas, why did you stare at him for literally 2 full minutes??" She looks bewildered

Then the realisation hits her

"oh no..." She puts a hand on your arm "he's your soulmate isn't he?"

You nod and Alison is torn between being ecstatic to be free of Thomas' attention and being heartbroken for you

"bloody typical, my soulmate is a ghost" you laugh and Alison grimaces

You go back inside and Thomas is nowhere to be seen

He's sitting at his sighing place, desperately trying to calm his thoughts enough to compose a poem to win your affections before you leave the house

You sit at the dining table with Alison and get some work done for a while

When you're done for the day, you're just about to get into your car and leave when Thomas comes running through the front door towards you

"my apologies, I simply could not allow you to leave without getting the chance to speak to you first" he looks nervous (and adorable)

So you start chatting

And the other ghosts are trying (and failing) to discreetly watch you from the windows

"so...just to confirm, you're seeing colours now, right?" You ask him

"yes, I admit that from the moment I first laid eyes on you, the world seemed to erupt into colour for the first time in my 200 years of death" he admitted

"well, what should we...do about it?" You ask

"I'm afraid I do not know, neither I nor my fellow ghosts have ever seen something like this happen before"

You just look at each other for a moment

"although, I can only hope that one day you will die in Button House so that we can see what may happen between us" he says

You laugh when he realises what he just said, and he starts to apologise but you cut him off

"that doesn't sound too terrible" you smile at him and if his heart was still beating it would have skipped a beat

You part ways after that first day with a promise that you'll see him next time you visit Button House

And you can't stop smiling as you drive home, admiring the incredible colour of the sunset

#bbc ghosts #thomas thorne #thomas thorne x reader

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Either out of embarrassment or being a little shit, Jaskier lies outrageously to Geralt about humans (on the level of “I’m molting” or “These? They’re rocks, to snack on.”) and might get away with it?

Hi Dahliavandare! I always love seeing you in my inbox. I changed this just a *teeny* bit. WARNING: VERY SLIGHTLY HORNY (it’s Jaskier, duh) There is also a little bit of angst because Jaskier gets sick.

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“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“What?” The young bard yelped. “I wasn’t even singing that time.”

“No, you just--hmmm.”

“I just hmmm what?” Jaskier asked, pausing in his near-constant strumming.

“You smell like...hmm.”

“I smell?” Jaskier said, both hands planted on his hips. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, my friend--”

“Not friends.”

“You smell like a barn. Anyway-”

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt said, running one, gloved hand through his hair. “Witchers can sort of smell emotions, right?”

Jaskier looked up at him, a sudden hint of anxiety in his scent. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Not entirely.” Geralt shook his head as if clearing a thought from it. “We can’t smell complex things, but joy, fear, anger...desire.”

Jaskier, for once, didn’t look at Geralt, studying instead the flowers at the side of the road. “Desire?”

“I-yes.” Geralt said. “And I wanted to know if all humans smell like...”

“Desire?” Jaskier said, then began talking fast. “Oh yes, of course, most humans, especially my age, well, they smell like this all the time. All the time. Naturally.”

It sort of checked out, at least to Geralt’s thinking. Young humans were horny, and although the overriding scent when Geralt was around was fear, he remembered being a teenager, with all the baggage that entailed at Kaer Morhen, and yes, constantly horny was among those memories. Jaskier himself was definitely still young by human standards, perhaps twenty or so from his youthful features.

Geralt chalked the horniness up to humanity and hormones and left it at that.

---

Later on, Geralt had other questions related to humanity, more specifically that part of humanity that included Jaskier.

“I thought humans couldn’t eat those?” Geralt couldn’t, he’d eaten one during training on a dare and spent the next day with his head in the privy.

Jaskier looked down at the mushroom in his hand. It was a beautiful, bright red, with little white spots. He’d been snacking on similar ones for the last mile or so.

“Of course we can,” he said. “Humans eat these all the time.” There was a rising tone in his voice that indicated something, but as Geralt had mentioned before, witchers couldn’t actually smell the more complicated emotions.

“They, um,” Jaskier said. “They just can’t be eaten by humans during-er- during summer. It’s fall now, so it’s okay.”

Geralt shrugged. What did he know of human biology? He wouldn’t be eating another of them ever, at any time. His stomach lurched a little just at the thought.

---

“You didn’t buy the ring.”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, eyes bright in the sunshine. The bustle of the market around them pushed against him like a tide, but a little patch of space was left around Geralt. Jaskier stepped into the space. “The ring?”

“You liked it,” Geralt grunted. “I could tell.” It had been a little thing, cheaply made of poor materials, but the bard’s eyes had lit up upon seeing the little buttercup detailing, and he’d admired for several minutes, although without touching.

Jaskier shrugged. “It was made of iron.”

“And?”

“Human’s can’t wear iron, Geralt.”

“Then why did the man sell it?”

“Well some humans can wear it of course, those with very tough skin, but I’m delicate.” Jaskier sniffed.

“Humans...can’t wear iron?” It didn’t sound right.

“Not right up close to their skin,” Jaskier said. “It turns us, um, purple.”

Geralt shrugged it off. He’d once been called to a castle where a baron had believed himself cursed because his finger was turning green, but he’d simply been wearing a cheap brass ring.

---

After the first winter they met again in the spring something was definitely different.

“Your freckles,” Geralt said.

“What about them?” Jaskier said, looking away.

What about them indeed. They glimmered like chips of mica. At first Geralt had thought it a trick of the light, but no, there was a definite glitter to Jaskier’s skin.

“They’re...shining?”

Jaskier cocked his head at Geralt, cheeks shimmering. “Geralt,” he said slowly. “You know humans shimmer in the spring...right?”

Shimmer?

“I’d never noticed,” Geralt said. Admittedly he paid a little more attention to Jaskier than perhaps he ought, but still, one would think he’d have seen this before.

“It’s part of the growing process,” Jaskier said.

---

“Jaskier, your cheeks are red,” Geralt said, stepping out of the small bathtub the inkeeper had brought up. He stepped closer to the bard, still naked and dripping water, and pressed the back of his hand to Jaskier’s forehead.

“Nnhgh,” Jaskier said.

“Are you well?” Geralt asked, cupping Jaskier’s flushed face with his other hand. It didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Jaskier pushed his hands away, face even redder than before.

“I’m perfectly fine, Geralt,” he said, higher pitched than usual. “Human faces get red for no reason now...put on some pants.”

---

“Jaskier you’re drunk,” Geralt said. It was a pretty obvious statement, considering he had his bard draped over him like a shawl.

“Hehe, yep,” Jaskier said, reaching up with one, long finger and tracing Geralt’s jawline with it.

“You didn’t have any alcohol, I’m sure of it.” Jaskier normally had an extremely high alcohol tolerance in any case.

“‘O course not,” Jaskier said, leaning even more fully into Geralt’s hold. “Had milk.”

“Milk can’t get people drunk.”

“Milk can’t get witchers drunk,” Jaskier slurred. “Get’s humans drunk though, dunnit?”

“Can it?”

“Yeah, definitely, not the kids, but like, how often do you see, like adult humans drinkin’ milk?”

Not often, Geralt thought. He put Jaskier to bed in the inn and it was like pouring an octopus into a bucket. One loose yet gripping arm pulled Geralt closer to Jaskier, the bard leaned in and brushed soft lips to Geralt’s cheekbone.

Geralt wondered if it was another mystery of humans that the spot seemed to tingle all night and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

---

Geralt clutched Jaskier as the bard fell to his knees, groaning. His face was sickly in it’s palor and he was trembling. He’d just lurched up from the table at the inn and stumbled to the door. Geralt had followed him and the young bard had just collapsed like this.

“Jaskier,” he said, clutching a chilled cheek, his other hand seeking one of Jaskier’s. “Jaskier what’s wrong.”

“Lemon,” Jaskier whispered, lacing shaking finger’s with Geralt’s. “In the fish, there was lemon.”

“Lemon’s fine, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, slow heart racing as he looked into eyes that were becoming glassy and clouded.

Jaskier shook his head and it seemed to exhaust him.

“’S fine for humans.” He said. “Not fae.”

“Fae,” Geralt said, cradling his friend. “Jaskier you’re not making sense.”

“Mmh,” Jaskier said, smiling sadly. His face changed, his eyes going glow bright and his ears lengthening a little. His skin took on a slightly green tint.

Geralt looked into the face of his fae bard, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone and the shimmering freckles there. “How do I heal you, you have to tell me.”

Jaskier blinked slowly, eyes dimming further.

Geralt shook him, desperation taking over.

“Jaskier what heals a fairy?”

What heals a fairy? He’d learned that at some point hadn’t he? Long ago. They were rare, and most witchers never saw one in their whole lives but if you could help one they’d grant you one wish, not tricks.

Poetry.

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Geralt rasped, throat feeling dry. Those beautiful eyes blinked at him, slowly.

“I...I think you have pretty eyes,” Geralt said. “And I like when they, um, match the skies.”

Jaskier blinked at him in confusion, brow wrinkling slightly.

“You look pretty in blue,” Geralt managed, inventing wildly. “And look pretty in green. You look lovely in about every shade in between.”

Some of the deathly palor was fading from Jaskier’s face now and Geralt sought more words. “I thought you were pretty that day you wore purple,” he said. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, idiot he was an idiot, nothing rhymes with purple.

“I like your spirit, your moxy, your...your yurple.”

Jaskier was indeed looking better now, and he was smiling.

“I like the way you talk to me, and how you’re always there,” Geralt whispered. “I like the way you hum to me when you help me brush my hair.”

Jaskier sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light.

“I like the way you give treats to Roach, um, and I like the way you smile,” Geralt gulped at the look on Jaskier’s face. “But most of all I like how much I love you, so I want you to promise to, uh, stay? For a while?”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, cupping his cheek. “That was bad.” Then he kissed him and Geralt’s brain went very very fuzzy.

A little later, in their room in the inn, where Geralt was finishing the fish and Jaskier was having stew avec no-lemon-at-all, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier tilted his head thoughtfully as he chewed a piece of potato. “Well, at first I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he said.

Geralt nodded. Fae were a feared and reverred group amongst humans, so caution was reasonable.

“Then it became a sort of game,” Jaskier said shrugging. “I couldn’t resist. So I left you little hints. I thought you’d figure it out for sure with the freckles or the milk.”

Geralt huffed a little sheepishly.

“I don’t care that you’re fae,” he said after a moment.

“I know,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t care that you’re an awful poet.”

“It worked, didn’t it.”

“It did, and now you get a wish, no tricks,” Jaskier held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”

Geralt thought for a moment. A wish from a fae was no small thing. It should be something powerful, something earth shattering and precious and rare.

“I wish you would kiss me again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oop, here it is (after quite the wait, sorry about that) I’m actually so proud of this and it’s super sweet and fluffy.

#geraskier #fluff #creature Jaskier #fae jaskier #Roach borrowed the braincell and she isn't giving it back #the witcher #geralt of rivia

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beskarberry · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years ago

Note

Ik your request is off, but when your request is open can u write dating headcanons with Kazuha ? I like your works so much which is y i send u a request hehe

No rush please take care author-nim :'D

This is a long time coming, but I’m glad to know that you’re still a Kazuha simp even after all this time ahahha thank you for your kind words and I hope you like this!!

Kazuha Dating Headcanons

How it’s like “being with” the fugitive wandering samurai. (masterlist)

Beforehand

The whole dating thing is entirely dependent on when you met or known Kazuha. So for this one, we establish that you and Kazuha are friends even before he became a fugitive.

Your clan and the Kaedahara clan are known to be close, and that’s how you’ve known your childhood friend. You’re always together during the peace time of Inazuma, sometimes getting into trouble due to his wayfaring nature.

Your family tried desperately to help the Kaedahara clan with their financial issues but it wasn’t exactly enough to maintain such a large clan. Soon enough the samurai clan lost its power, and what remains of their abode became foreign as a more powerful clan reclaimed it.

But despite all of that, Kazuha’s happiness is your main priority and you’re relieved that despite the misfortune the young master felt more freer than ever. He leaves the sheltered life behind with the promise to visit you as frequent as he could.

And that he does, even when the vision hunt decree was enacted, even when it’s unsafe to be near the area where many eyes can identify him, Kazuha always kept his promises to visit and spend time with. And thankfully, with the history of your clans, your family are still ever so welcoming to his presence.

You even met his newfound friend (and his adorable cat!) during one of his visits, and Kazuha felt all the heaviness on his shoulders disappear when you two hit it off instantly! And after that visit he received a pat on the back and a thumbs up from his friend, telling him that he got his blessing.

This caused said friend to get smacked over the head by a flustered Anemo boy.

So when the news that he perished after issuing a duel before the throne came to you, the pain was just as bad as Kazuha’s anguish. That night you huddled together in the comforts of your room, weeping over your friend and the danger Kazuha now faces. Somehow all the peaceful times blurred into nothingness, the period of darker times and complications marked that day.

But you despite it all, Kazuha is still the honest man that he is, and he will fulfill his promises to the end: for you, for him, and for his slumbering friend.

Courting

Kazuha is a man of words and custom. Sometimes you think that his passion for poetry and wit were the things that made you fall for him, and he thought it was the best method to confess to someone as honorable as you.

So, yes, it was Kazuha who first confessed through a lengthy, poetic love letter that he left after sleeping over one night, something that he had planned many weeks ago yet kept to himself. Why would you want to be with someone who has nothing to his name? A person that you can’t spend time with freely, who prioritizes his selfish desire to be a vagabond than stay longer with you?

These thoughts stayed with him throughout the week that he avoided coming to your house and still lingered as he begrudgingly trudged up the hill to where your estate is, expecting the rejection at the sight of you waiting for him at the balcony of your room, his usual point of entry.

“YOU!” Kazuha was taken aback by the angry finger pointed at him, he was expecting something else, something sadder or guilty perhaps. Anger isn’t one of them - oh yeah, he did avoid you for a week, didn’t he? “You have the guts to drop this-” the sight of the letter in your hand made him physically recoil, “and then disappear for a week like nothing happened?! Come up here right now or I’m dropkicking your ass!”

Hurriedly, in main concern of your well-being, Kazuha used his elemental skill to jump up to the balcony - where he was met by a tight hug and you reciprocating his feelings. He hugs back in relief, before being smacked over the head for what he did.

Kazuha carries his hobby with him when you started dating, when you told him how nice it was and how you always feel flustered when it’s directed at you. Poetry, haikus, letters complimenting everything he loves about you when he knows it will take a while for him to come back. You have a special box filled with all his notes. And your favorite one:

My love is a butterfly Flies from hither to stay here forever In love and true perfection

On worse days when he’s there, at night he brings comfort by playing with his leaf, a skill of leaf-blowing he picked up from his travels and perfected for your sake. When there are times when you couldn’t sleep properly, he’s always there to pluck a leaf from the trees outside, playing a tune until you find the right comfort to rest. Usually in the company of his arms.

Kazuha absolutely loves cooking for you! When rare days comes that he is able to visit during daytime he likes to demonstrate his cooking skills, always assuring that he gets the freshest ingredients for you to eat. They’re barely a miss, like he knows your taste more than you. He takes a mental note of your favorites, your reactions and of course, your honest feedback.

The next time he comes over, he has enough to feed your family. Sometimes you feel your clan loves him more than you did.

When there are interesting things he’d encountered during his travels, he’s sure to tell you the best of them! These moments are like subtle nudges of him to convince you to join him on his adventures, enticing you with his stories to a life full of meaning and excitement out there.

More often than not at the end of his story sessions, despite knowing that it isn’t safe for you to go out (with or without him) he’ll always have this soft look in his eyes as he looks at you, smile so soft as he looks at you like a daydream, “I can’t wait to be with you out there.”

Kazuha loves it when he gets a reaction from you, whether it be your happiness or relief as he ascends to your home, genuine curiosity over his tales, the embarrassment when he makes a move, or even the worry when he comes back looking a little worse for wear.

Traveling with Kazuha

You’ve always lived a semi-sheltered life in Inazuma due to your protective clan, with your interaction mostly focused with the villagers of your area and the people in your estate. When the decree started, you barely go out now, your people feared that your Vision would be taken away if the Tenryou Commission were to see you.

It was also the main reason why despite Kazuha’s desire to show you a whole new world out there, he couldn’t ever prioritize his own feelings over your safety. It was also one of the main reasons he joined the Resistance: to make a better world for you so that he can be with you in a free world.

However, one day, a clan that’s in the favor of the Vision Hunt Decree snitched on you to the Tenryou Commission. And you were almost captured (as the only Vision holder in your clan) if not for Kazuha arriving at the last minute, fighting them off before escaping with you.

Your family was able to contact him before everything escalated, and decided that it was far more safer for you to be with him than stay at your clan. And so became your current life with Kazuha.

With a favor, Kazuha managed to get you to join the Crux Fleet. And it took a whole month before everyone (including Beidou) to find out about your relationship. This quiet boy? In a relationship with you?! Everyone calmly lost their shit, and there was a drinking party on board (for the rowdy adults).

It was warm, carefree and exciting. Despite your previous worries about the life you left behind, next to Kazuha in the middle of the ocean, somehow things ended up alright. Better even.

You jive with everyone quite well, especially with Beidou - the woman loves you to bits! Teasing you, pulling you around after finding out your backstory, as Kazuha awkwardly follows from behind in silence.

Whenever you’re around, Kazuha’s demure demeanor completely vanishes, from the mysterious kid that the crew didn’t know the name of for weeks turns into a rambunctious teen that’s only purpose is to make you crack a smile or laugh.

He is so down bad, everyone but you notices this, and soon he too became a huge target for teasing.

You’ve realized too that Kazuha smells a lot like the nature around him, sometimes the sea salt from the sea that you spend most of your days on, to the maple leaves of the forest near the docks of the cities you land in, or the musky, earthly scent of the mountains that you both trek.

Kazuha likes to be by your side every second of the day, as long as possible. And oh does he love teaching you things about the outside world, like how to tell the weather, the constellations in the sky, the inner workings of the ship.

He’s like a lovesick puppy trailing behind you. Sometimes he had to be physically removed away from you to help out on the ship, and the unlucky crew member who drags him away during a particularly bad mood gets the worst glare in their life. If they try to tell it to the others, the crew won’t believe him.

Kazuha Kaedahara had always been fascinated by you, and now that you’re here with him, he wouldn’t pass up to spend every second together. Anywhere in the world, with him you’ll be safe.

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @coka-cala @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @gojos-baby @volleybloop @tartuu @sassyglassesbunny @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @blissmal @upsetpotatoo

#kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kaedahara kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #sojourner specials #gender neutral #exile.goblet #exile.flower

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evita-shelby · 3 years ago

Text

Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 11

5/26/22- turns out I accidentally deleted it lol

Cw: racism, slutshaming, mentions of death

Gif by @nofckingfightinging

"You turned cloak so many times in that war, I wonder if your husband knows how cheap your loyalty is.” he says as if he’s caught her, but even if he spent his life trying to find Tommy's weakness, he wouldn’t find it with her.

Eva knew he would follow her there. A park bench while she reads a book about poetry. People used to give her looks, some good some bad, but it was those types of looks that reminded you where the Americans got their racism. But that changed when Tommy noticed her, everyone feared him and it was in their best interest that Eva Shelby, nee Smith, was treated as if her skin was as pale as her husband’s.

Irene O'Donnell eyed her with intrigue while Donnal Henry eyed her like she was dog shit on his boot. Campbell looks at her like she was put on this earth to make his life miserable.

“I was a spy for the rebels, sir, a much better one than Grace seeing I fooled everyone into thinking that. Do you know how easy it was for me to expose her?” Eva loathes Grace, not only because somehow the insipid little cunt managed to creep in like the snake she is, but also because she was just so fucking awful at her job. Had she been a spy in Mexico she wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes. "Two conversations with her and your god-awful idea to meet in the cemetery where everyone can see you, and by the next day I had told Polly and Thomas what I’d seen.”

Eva hates ineptitude just as much as she hates the idea of sharing her husband.

“She served her purpose well enough.” He said angry that a foreign witch was the one who helped Thomas Shelby evade justice.

“Did you know I was given a gray filly just like the one my husband bought recently for my services by Pancho Villa?” Eva is not one to brag about her time in Villa’s army ---after its inglorious end who can really--- but Campbell is an exception. Its burns him that a twenty-six-year-old housewife has done more for her country than he has for his. Although an Irishman on the side of his people’s oppressors must have no pride. “You see I sounded so American by the time I finished boarding school, no one could tell I was from Mexico. Except for my coloring, obviously.”

“And then killed when you refused to give up your chastity to the general you served, an admirable thing, you were a girl of twenty all alone.” he says as if the majority of Mexico wasn’t composed of Catholics.

“Shame Grace couldn’t keep her legs closed, not a very good Protestant girl, was she? Should have seen how eager she was to jump in his bed, all of Small Heath knew she was whore by then, flirting with both Arthur and Thomas.” Although who could blame Grace, Tommy was great in bed ---if a little tame. Linda seemed to be really enjoying Arthur’s bed, going by her blushes, even if she has to step into the Sodom and Gomorrah that is the Eden Club.

“This isn’t about Mrs. Macmillian, Mrs. Shelby.” Normally Eva is above calling women sluts and whores for having sex, but it hurts Campbell to have Grace be slandered so.

“You know I’ve seen your death in the cards, let's just say if you thought being shot by a woman was embarrassing, imagine being killed by one.” Eva never plans on letting him get to the point, she could talk the ears off a person if she set her mind to it.

“Are you threatening me, Mrs. Shelby?” he says tensing and Eva simply shrugs.

“No, I don’t need to threaten people, I simply tell them what the Universe has said to me, you see, Major, I am a witch cursed to see the future.” her voice is barely above a whisper, low and sweet like poison made with honey. “Think of me as Cassandra of Troy, cursed with prophecies that will never be believed.”

----

“You can hardly tell you’re pregnant, you know. I was like that with Danny.” Esme says when Eva comes in through the betting shop, it was much faster than using the other door. Daniel Owen Shelby was Esme’s boy, named after Danny Whizz-Bang. He was John’s fifth child, but Esme’s first and only child. “I hope I can have a pregnancy as good as yours was. I’m sacred of dying like my sister or the baby dying, but it's stupid because the universe has shown me this little one will have three younger sisters.” Eva touches her stomach as if to assure herself that she won’t die like Felicidad did.

“If Tommy is anything like John, those girls of yours will be spoiled rotten. He already bought Katie earrings because he didn’t want her to feel left out when he got Daisy some for her birthday.” Esme says with a laugh. If you’d look at her with Katie, Johnny, Daisy and Robbie you’d think she’d birthed them with how much they loved her and she loved them. Even Daisy who was thinking herself grown at ten and would be unbearable in her teenage years.

“I just know he will.” Eva gets the sudden feeling of someone walking up to the betting shop, a woman she’s heard about, but has never met. “I’ll get the door; I think we are about to have an unexpected guest.”

May Carleton was beautiful, in that English heiress type of way. Stunning woman really and ironically both Eva and Tommy’s type. If Eva wasn’t married, she’d definitely try and see if she could get anywhere with her. “I have an appointment with Mr. Thomas Shelby.”

No hello, no may I come in, nothing is even politely asked and she enters in a way Eva can only describe as Hernan Cortes entering Tenochtitlan already planning how he’s going to oust Moctezuma.

“May Carleton,” May extends her hand to Eva, but Eva eyes it with suspicion. Tommy had told her about her flirting with him ---unfortunately he played dumb when she asked about Grace’s letters, so that’s going to end badly--- and the way she came in here like a colonizer feels a little insulting.

“He usually takes appointments at his proper office.” Eva says wondering how to politely kick her out. She can bet Moctezuma had similar thoughts on how to shake off the Spanish.

“This was the address he gave me.” May drops her hand, feeling the sting. Eva was being rude, but why the hell May Carleton think anyone would be nice to her here.

“He gave you this address?” Esme asks standing by Eva in what can only be seen as solidarity.

“He said this was a gambling den. I told him I wanted to see one since I’m always reading about them in the papers.” now it made sense. Bored rich girl, Eva hated those. Always tried to make her their pet project, always stealing someone else’s boyfriend for shits and giggles and always treating the working class like this circus oddity they can pay to see. “Quite the big scandal in the Telegraph lately. Anyway, he said, I could, uhm, take a look.”

Esme looks at May with incredulity and Eva has that try me bitch look she perfected when she was sixteen and Oneida Villareal Diaz tried to make her life a living hell. Probably likes tonic water too.

Eva already hates her and it's not even about May setting her sights on her charming criminal of a husband.

“And now I feel like a bit of an idiot, because I’m early and he’s late and I have no idea how to behave.” she says almost nervously.

“In a Gambling Den?” Esme doesn’t take kindly to being a spectacle for a rich white woman to enjoy.

“I'll go wait in the car.” May has the decency to appear apologetic, not that it would save her. The Lees are famous for their resentment.

“Oh, you don’t have to. He’ll be here in maybe five minutes; he is very punctual. I am Eva Shelby.” this time Eva offers her hand. The Mexican Spanish accent feels more pronounced and Eva isn’t sure if she should have done that on purpose. With Oneida and her posse of rich mean girls, it was the opposite. The more Irish she sounded the better. Remind them, she was the foreign European one. Didn’t help she was darker than them, which was why they always thought her beneath them. All that culminated with Eva ‘accidentally’ pushing Oneida down a few steps so she’d hurt her ankle and Eva would be playing both Odette and Odile in their school’s rendition of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. She hates Swan Lake, but boy does she love revenge.

“So, what brings you here, Miss Carleton?" Eva asks in that sweet polite manner of hers that she uses on strangers.

“I am going to train his racehorse, for Epsom.” she says still taking everything in, reminding Eva about how Oneida looked at the offices by the port and how surprised she was to see how well off the Smith Rileys lived. After all they did benefit from the Porfiriato up until the Americans destroyed their ships.

“You know horses?” Esme asks as if she didn’t believe posh Miss Carelton was a horse trainer.

“Yes, you?” May asks and now Eva wonders if she judged May wrong.

“Born riding. Slept in a manger when I was a baby.” Esme answers, a softness about her face when she recalls her childhood.

John comes in, complaining about May’s car. And Tommy comes in just as John assumes Eva is feeling threatened by the beautiful heiress.

“Sorry I’m late,” he clears his throat and John backs down. “There was a business matter.” he doesn’t kiss Eva’s cheek like he always does and that just annoys her more. He orders for Esme and John to keep the place locked for a while and Eva wonders if she is supposed to cockblock them to prevent May Carleton from getting the idea Tommy is unattached, or leave in a huff before she does something immature like trip her. She trusts her husband, but she doesn’t trust Carelton to keep Carelton to keep her lily-white hands off her man.

“You hate her, don’t you?” he asks knowing the answer to his question. Lucky for Eva they have the house for themselves since Finn likes spending the night at Polly’s because he misses her and Arthur has gotten a place in London above the Eden Club.

“I don’t know her enough to hate her, but the impression she has given me leaves her in the same spot as the girls who made my life hell in boarding school. Walked into the betting shop like a fucking colonizer.” Eva groaned and he laughs at her choice of words. She may be more Irish than Nahua, but she was raised to know colonialism is evil and how it looks. Every foreign country owned and enslaved mexicans with their factories in Mexico. “Did she drink Tonic Water? The bitchy rich girls always drank that.”

“You drink it too, love.” he points out and once again Eva finds herself forgetting she’s a little angry at him. Here acting like everything is fine while cleaning up after dinner. Him being playful with her and reminding her how horny pregnancy has made her.

“Don’t do that.” she says reminding herself it's now or never.

“Do what, Evie?” he asks bracing himself for the inevitable fight they are hurdling to.

“That thing you do where you make me forget that I am actually pretty fucking mad at you, Tommy.” she says angrily. “I know about those letters Grace has written to you and to top it all off, you didn’t even bother correcting Carleton when she assumed you were unmarried today.”

If Tommy thought her pretty when she was mad, she’d look fucking gorgeous tonight.

---

Notes:

happy new years, i was bored in my room and wrote this all in one sitting, yay!

First things first, only Katie, who I assume is the younger daughter since she is still peeing the bed in season 1, is named. I gave them names here. In order they are: Daisy, Robert (robbie), John Jr (Johnny) and Katie. the baby Esme had between seasons is named Daniel Owen after Danny Whizz Bang who gets killed by Billy Kimber in season 1.

May Carleton gave me bitchy rich girl vibes at first, didn't dislike her as much as i dislike Grace ---who I just think sucks as a charcter, spy , but excels as a ghost--- or Tatiana ---who is just an awful person and kinda annoying.

The Porfiriato is the title given to the thirty-one years (seven presidential terms)President Porfirio Diaz was in power in Mexico. guy started out sort of good, but became a tyrant who favored foreign investments, industrailism without care about people's rights and literally killed his oppnents. his regime lead to the Second Revolution that kinda ended up almost exactly the same. The US originally backed the rebels until the Rebels started raiding them because they were still pissed about the US orchestrating the Mexican-American War to steal half of what is now the continetnial US. the 2nd revolution would make a fantasitic m-rated period drama, has a lot of violence, back stabbing, politics and at one point 41 queer men were exsposed at a dance (there's a movie called El Baile de los 41/the Dance of the 41) one of them being Diaz's son-in-law.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #oc fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

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rae-gar-targaryen · 4 years ago

Text

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

��Oliver here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?" He pressed.

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think of that one?”

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

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

Um, wow.

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

All you could do was nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

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

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Cheeky.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So she knew who you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a hard no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

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

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

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

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

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

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

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

What the fuck.

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

That was you, ever the professional.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

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

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

“Boy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel chuckled a little at that.

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Angelito, everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath was shuddering now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

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

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come on then, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he would, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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