#part of me still wants to refer to Ez as a kid

[amys-books27]

I'm not ready for the time Ezran grows and gets taller than Rayla.

Soren has always been taller than her so whatever. BUT Callum just now surpassed her, and there's nothing wrong with it, it's just nostalgic 'cause it shows how much they've grown up. How much he has grown up since she left. And Ezran still has much growing up to do, so when he gets to 17-20, would he be taller than Rayla?

I'm gonna cry if they show us this. It would be so, so nostalgic 'cause Rayla used to be the taller one, and then she would be the smallest one. And I just can't-

[ladamedusoif]

Baking (Dieter Bravo x OFC! Andie Wallace-Bravo)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 2

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar (click for masterlist)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC!Andie Wallace-Bravo

Rating: Teen/Mature

Word count: ~1500 words

Warnings: Mild drug references, alcohol references, strong language, implied smut

Summary: Although he’d once been more known for getting baked, these days Dieter is more interested in baking of a different kind. 

Author's note: This entry in A Merry Fic-Mas is inspired by the very wonderful Curls series by @farawayfromwanting/@agentjackdaniels and @julesonrecord. It's an honour to have the chance to add my own tiny little scene to the Bravo-Wallace family story, and I hope their wonderful creator likes this humble little tale of Holiday Dandie.

Dieter Bravo was not what anyone would call a wholly domesticated man. Marriage and kids had encouraged him to embrace the joys of basic family cooking, but he still struggled with anything beyond the simplest of recipes. 

“I’m an actor, Mamá,” he’d protested as his mother tried to teach him a few of her staples. “It’s basically a given that we’re gonna live on takeout and on-set catering.”

But Dieter had a culinary secret. Baking. In the literal, not metaphorical, sense. Though that was a specialism, too. Less so, these days. 

Even at his hedonistic peak, he’d somehow still retained the ability to produce the best cookies - weed optional, though usually a given - anyone had ever tasted. He didn’t have an exact recipe, just went on vibes. It was soothing, all that gentle mixing and rolling and cutting and baking. He’d made full use of the in-house kitchen in rehab, churning out variations on his failsafe cookie recipe as a kind of therapeutic exercise.

Now, Dieter is swiping through holiday baking ideas on Pinterest while the kids dance energetically to the Bluey opening credits. He’s been the stay-at-home parent for the last couple of months, the strike and production delays for season two of When You’re Lost in the Darkness offering him a welcome chance to stay put and just be a dad. 

Andie walks into the family room dressed in her favourite smart casual outfit of stylish grey coat, white blouse and jeans, makeup subtle and dark curls arranged over one shoulder, her purse slung across her body. She’s in demand, these days, and with Christmas fast approaching Dieter wanted to give her a proper day to herself: get her nails done, have a facial, whatever she wanted. 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I feel bad heading out and not staying with you guys on my day off.”

Dieter looks up from his iPad and smiles at his wife. “When was the last time you had a day just for you, angel? We’re fine. Go! Relax! Shop! Do whatever!” He stands up from the couch and shoos her affectionately towards the door, barely letting her pause to kiss the kids goodbye.

Charlie and Ezra do not take their eyes off Bluey for a moment.

Dieter sits beside the kids on the big rug in front of the TV. “So…how’d you guys like to make a surprise for mama?”

Charlie shoots him a look so uncannily similar to her mother’s that Dieter has to pause for a moment. “We’re watching Bluey.”

Ezra nods, bright blond hair gleaming. “Boo-ee.”

“Okay, how about this: we make some cookies for mama, we have lots of fun, and then you can watch more Bluey. Hmmm?”

The children turn to each other as if conferring over their father’s offer. Charlie, as the eldest, assumes the role of spokesperson.

“Okay. But we get to eat cookies and watch Bluey.”

The Pinterest post Dieter had selected as inspiration showed a perfect, well-scrubbed family enjoying a platter of gorgeous, golden holiday cookies frosted and decorated with surgical precision. 

His kitchen, however, had disintegrated into a case of Pinterest versus reality, soundtracked by Dieter’s personal holiday playlist.

Ezra’s wails drown out the sound of Run DMC while Charlie protests that she wasn’t trying to eat Ez’s bowl of frosting. Her dark curls, meanwhile, are streaked with flour, dough, and sugary globs of red and white fondant icing.

They seem to have somehow used every single bowl in the Bravo-Wallace household, the kitchen countertops crowded with mixing bowls of various sizes and coated in flour and sugar. As Dieter turns to comfort Ezra he skids on what he rapidly realises is an errant egg white.

“Motherfuck- sorry, Charlie. And Ezra. Sorry, Charlie and Ezra!”

No sooner has he picked up his son than the oven timer pings, and Charlie is off her stool and opening the oven door - bare-handed - like a shot. Dieter throws himself across the kitchen as best he can, half-diving to get Charlie away from the hot surfaces while somehow still maintaining his balance with little Ezra in his other arm.

Now Charlie starts wailing. “I wanna take the cookies out for Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

Ezra joins in. 

José Feliciano entreats the Bravo-Wallaces to a feliz Navidad. 

Dieter takes a deep breath and tries to summon up what's left of his holiday spirit.

Andie Wallace-Bravo has had a manicure, a pedicure, a facial, and feels like a new woman. She even managed to get in some Christmas shopping at The Grove, stopping at the Farmers Market for a coffee before heading home. 

The house seems eerily quiet, though, as Andie opens the front door and steps inside. No TV. Just the faint sound of holiday music coming from the direction of the kitchen. She drops her purse on the hall table and goes in search of her little clan.

“Dieter? Kids?”

“Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I made you cookies! Seeeeeee!” 

Charlie collides with her mother and Andie becomes conscious of something sticking to her favourite grey coat: a freshly-baked sugar cookie, shaped like what she suspects is meant to be a Chrismas tree, and dripping in frosting and sprinkles. 

“Oh! Yes, I can see - hey, where’s your brother?”

Right on cue, Ezra toddles around the corner. He is, from head to toe, almost entirely green. 

He extends his chubby arms towards Andie, who shucks off her coat and picks him up. So much for this blouse, she muses. 

“Dieter, why is our son green?”

Dieter is leaning against the kitchen island, sweatpants covered in what looks like flour and tiny white handprints all over his dark grey t-shirt. He turns to look at his wife and reveals a face covered in splodges of red and green frosting, and hair rendered white with powdered sugar and flour. 

“Hiiiii, angel. We, uh… we wanted to surprise you. With cookies.”

Andie’s heart swells so much that she’s able, somehow, to ignore the apocalyptic scene in every corner of her kitchen. “You made cookies, for me?”

Ezra claps his little hands together. “COOKEEE MAMA! COOKEEEEE MAMAAAAA!” 

Charlie joins in with the chant, beating a loud tattoo on an upturned mixing bowl, oblivious to the dough plopping onto the floor. 

“Dee, my love? How much frosting did they eat, exactly?”

Dieter had protested when Andie insisted on helping with cleanup. She silenced him with a kiss to his sugar-coated lips, tugging on a pair of rubber gloves to protect her sparkling festive manicure.

“We’re a team, baby. Anyway, if we didn’t tackle this together I think we’d still be cleaning it by New Year’s.”

With the last of the bowls finally washed and put away, Andie reaches into one of the high cupboards and retrieves a bottle of Irish cream liqueur. 

“It’s Christmas, after all, and I have been looking forward to this all day. Come join me on the couch? There should be some cocoa in the cupboard if you want.”

Dieter smiles and nods. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, angel. Just want to check on one final batch of dough.”

When Dieter finally emerges, still in his deconstructed cookie-coated clothes, he’s holding a plate of plain cookies and carrying a mug of hot cocoa for himself. 

“The final batch of cookies.” He places them on the coffee table and sinks into the couch beside his wife, resting his head on Andie’s shoulder. “These ones are, uh, a little different. Special.”

Andie looks at him dubiously. “Special?”

He exhales and stretches out, picking up a cookie and nibbling at it. “Weed cookies. For some much-needed relaxation.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.” Andie giggles and puts down her glass, picking up a cookie. “Well. Holiday cheer, indeed. Thank you, baby.” She takes a bite, chews, and turns to Dieter in astonishment. 

“Holy fucking shit, Dee? These are insane?!” 

He quirks a floured eyebrow and grins. “Still got it. Still making the best cookies in Hollywood.”

Andie is two cookies in when she starts to get giggly, tucking her feet under her and whispering sweet nothings at Dieter as he munches on another of his creations. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr Bravo. You’re the best, you know?”

Dieter hums happily to himself, a soft, blissed-out smile spreading across his face. “Mmmm. No. You are. You’re the best. The best best.”

She giggles again and rests her head on his shoulder. “We’re so fucking lucky. Aren’t we?”

He grunts in assent. 

Andie kisses Dieter’s broad shoulder through his t-shirt. “Hey, Dee. Hey. Wanna make out on the couch?”

No answer. 

“Dee?”

A soft snore. Andie melts a little at the sight: her beloved, still the handsomest thing she’s ever seen even if he’s covered in half the contents of their cupboards. She studies his face, reaching out to gently trace her fingers over his gorgeous features, and leans in to kiss his forehead. 

He tastes of sugar.

Another kiss. More sweetness. Andie giggles, and proceeds to kiss and lick the rest of the frosting off her husband’s face.

Dieter opens one eye, half-awake. “Angel, are you…licking me clean?”

She giggles before standing up and helping Dieter to his feet. 

“Sure am. So let’s go to bed where I can finish the job.” She reaches down to pat her husband’s ass, flour rising in a cloud of dust as she does so. 

“Always said you tasted sweet, baby.”

Dividers by @estrelinha-s

[jelzorz]

I’m reading your newest story for Soren/Opeli, and I’m absolutely loving it…! But the part where Ez and Rayla kind of gang up on her about the lessons, got me thinking….

What if, alternatively, later, they find Opeli some kind of magical artifact and teach her some spells…? She wouldn’t be frontline material by any means, but what Primal do you think would suit her best, then…?

Oh boy GB have I got the answer for you

If i had to pick one for opeli, it would be the sun. Canonically, the sun is all about the truth, justice, and judgement ("the light will decide"/"the light will decide your fate") which very much aligns with Lady Justice who I assumed was the closest the human kingdoms got to a deity of sorts and kind of worshipped for moral guidance? I made some assumptions and had to come up with basically a religion when I was writing the fruit and while Callum and Ez are definitely Jewish coded, I wasn't sure if that extended to Opeli and her clerical duties also HOWEVER

Everyone loves to discuss Xadian lore and magic but no one talks about what lore exists on the human side of the border and how that pertains to their beliefs, religions, etc so to me, while the kids can very much be represented by primal sources (sky, moon, earth, sun for Callum, Rayla, Ez, and Soren respectively), to me Opeli is a representation of the lore and belief systems on the human side, and thus I don't associate her with a primal source at all—I associate her with Lady Justice herself.

If you read the fruit closely enough, I actually sprinkled it in there as a treat to me:

She is the eldest of five, all girls, and while her sisters giggled and tittered and fawned over the concept of romance, responsibility fell to her to take care of everything else. She has always been judge and jury; the mediator of conflicts, the distributor of food and money and her parents' wills, taking little for herself so she might have more to divide between her sisters.

And then

Opeli officiates to thank the goddesses—Justice, Mercy, Virtue, Light, and the Harvest—for peace across their lands and for the fruit on their tables.

You may have also noticed that the series the fruit and the seed belong to is called Lady Justice and the Sun, which is once again, a treat to me and a reference to another sorpeli wip I have in my drafts of the same name which talks/discusses the myths humans developed after they were banished from the east:

"This isn't the story Queen Janai tells."

"It wouldn't be. It's an old human story. We only started to tell it after we were banished from the East."

"Kind of wild that it's still about the Primal Sources though." "Not really." Opeli dusts her hands and sets the iron poker in the stand by the hearth. "They have always been sources of power, even to humans. Presumably we took some of those stories with us when we were pushed to the West. Some books even claim that the Stars were our first gods. I'm not so well versed in them, but I believe those stories say that it was they who gave humans access to magic."

Lady Justice and the Sun (the wip) is supposed to be a retelling of Lady Justice and the Sun (the myth by me) that explicitly uses Opeli and Soren to represent Lady Justice (the human deity) and the Sun (the primal source). (I sprinkled a lot of Soren as the sun into the fruit also which was not done on purpose, but I'll take the credit because sleep deprived me is a genius).

Anyway, was this the answer you wanted? Absolutely not, but I do genuinely think that if Opeli got power from somewhere, it's from Lady Justice herself, rather than a primal source.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

And so you didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oliver here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?" He pressed.

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think of that one?” 

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

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

Um, wow.

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

All you could do was nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

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

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

You rolled your eyes. 

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

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

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed puzzled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

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

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Cheeky.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a hard no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

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

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

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

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

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

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

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

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

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

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

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

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

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

What the fuck.  

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

That was you, ever the professional. 

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

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

“You got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

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

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

“Boy?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel chuckled a little at that.

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath was shuddering now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

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

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come on then, baby." 

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he would, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagging:

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

[samwilsonsbabymama]

A Change of Scenery: A Family

Pairing: Dad!Angel Reyes x Mom Black!Reader (but anyone can read)

Summary: Reader and Angel spend time with AJ and Imani separately and they have a surprise for Angel and Reader that brings them all closer. Reader gets tired of Angel dropping hints and takes matters into her own hands.

Warning: fluff, smut, talks of pregnancy, and hints of a breeding kink... actually, no hints, just straight up breeding kink

Word Count: < 2,200

A/N: This is a continuation of this fic, you might want to read that one first before this one. It’s not edited or anything, i’ll fix any mistakes at a later date. I hope you all like it!

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

Your relationship with Angel had been going well. Nights spent at his house turned into days at his which turned into weeks at his house. Before long, the four of you were officially living together. You were listed as his and AJ’s emergency contact, and he was listed as yours and Imani’s.

A key part of your relationship was making sure you each spent time with each other’s child, making sure they knew that you both loved them.

Imani instantly took to Angel and loved spending time with him. They would have Angel and Imani time every week while you and AJ had your time together. 

On this particular day with AJ, he wanted to take you to lunch. You chuckled at the idea that he wanted to take you out, but you went along with it.

On your date with AJ, he ‘took’ you to your favorite restaurant, and he even pulled out your chair (but you had to get back up to help him into his but you didn’t mind.). While you waited for your food, you and AJ talked. He told you all about daycare and how he couldn’t wait to go to ‘real’ school.

“Y/n, thank you,” he said.

You were confused. “Why are you thanking me, sweetheart?”

“For loving my daddy and me,” he said just before your food came and your heart swelled. You didn’t know what to say to him, so you just smiled. You didn’t know what your and Imani’s lives would be like without your two men, and you didn’t want to find out. 

You two ate, and after when you reached for your wallet to pay, AJ pulled out some money.

“Daddy says a man always pays for a date,” AJ said, making you laugh. He looked at the bills with a confused look on his face. “Can you help me?”

“Of course, sweetie,” you smiled and helped him count the right amount of money.

The two of you beat Angel and Imani home and you decided to watch a movie while you waited for them. You and AJ were cuddled up on the couch and AJ was knocked out when Angel came in carrying Imani. From the smile on his face, you knew they’d had a good time. 

The two of you carefully carried the two sleeping children into their bedroom before heading straight to yours.

Angel watched from the bed as you did your nightly routine. He smiled as you walked back into the room searching for your bonnet. When you found it, he flipped back the covers and pulled you into his arms.

You two laid together in silence before Angel spoke.

“You know what Imani told me today?” He said before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Hmmm?”

“She said that she loved me and that she hopes that I stay forever.” 

With your head on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat increase and you smiled before snuggling in closer to him.

“And what did you say back?” You asked and threaded your fingers within his.

He smiled and brought your hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “I told her that I loved her too and that I’d stay as long as the two of you want me to.”

You hummed. “AJ said something similar, well, actually he thanked me for loving the two of you.”

Angel chuckled, “We’ve got some amazing kids, huh?”

“Yeah, we do,” you sighed.

A few days later, you had a day off of work but Angel had a shift at the scrapyard. You decided to keep AJ and Imani home from daycare and they were playing in their room. You were doing laundry when you walked by their room and heard them talking.

“Mommy likes this color, Imani, right?” You heard AJ say.

“It’s her favorite,” Imani replied. “Does this look like Daddy’s m’cycle? I want him to like it.”

You backed away with tears in your eyes. You had never heard AJ refer to you as ‘Mommy’ or any variation before, and Imani had always said ‘Mr. Angel’ when referring to Angel.

Your first instinct was to call Angel, but you stopped. Clearly, they were planning on surprising you two with their pictures, and you wanted Angel to be surprised.

You were on cloud nine for the rest of the day thinking about your two loves.

When Angel came home later that day, you were radiating with joy. The smile on your face was contagious.

“What’s got you so happy, mama?” He asked as he greeted you with a kiss.

“Oh, nothing, just happy to see my man, that’s all,” you didn’t want to spoil the surprise for him.

When the two kiddos heard Angel’s laugh, they came running out of their room and straight into his arms.

“Daddy!” AJ yelled.

Angel gave each kid a kiss on their head as he hugged them. He sat down on the floor as they talked about their day at the same time, each one finishing each other’s sentence while they talked.

You smiled and made your way back into the kitchen and ordered some pizza for dinner. Angel walked in behind you and wrapped his arms around you as you ordered. When you finished, you turned around in his arms and gave him a proper kiss.

Before you lost yourself in him, you pulled away and smiled.

“Where are the kids?” You asked as Angel swayed you from side to side.

“In their room, they said they had something to show us,” Angel replied. He moved to give you another kiss, but you laughed and shook your head promising to take care of him later. Angel slapped your ass telling you that you better before you headed back into the living room.

You snuggled up to Angel and waited for the kids to come out of their room. You could hear them whispering to each other around the corner and even though you couldn’t make out what they were saying, you knew what they were about to do.

When they finally made their entrance, Imani stood in front of Angel and AJ stood in front of you. They both had their hands behind their backs and by the looks on their faces, they were nervous.

“What ya got behind your back, princesa?” Angel asked Imani.

She looked to AJ who nodded his head and they both handed you and Angel a piece of paper.

The picture that AJ handed you was a picture of all four of you standing next to your house and your eyes instantly filled with tears.

“I made you this picture, mommy,” AJ whispered and your heart stuttered.

Even though you’d heard him refer to you as ‘mommy’ earlier, you still weren’t prepared.

You pulled AJ into a hug and peppered kisses all over his face. You saw Angel smiling from the corner of your eye.

He looked at Imani as she held out her picture to him.

“Daddy, I drew your m’cycle,” Imani said.

Angel chuckled at her pronunciation of the word. No matter how many times you tried, she couldn’t get the whole word out.

Angel pulled Imani into his arms, “I’m speechless, mija. I absolutely love it.” The four of you sat together while Imani and AJ talked about their drawings.

You never felt so much love in one room as you did at that moment.

As the months went on, your little family became closer. Angel had begun hinting that he was ready for another child but he never came out and said anything. If you were being honest with yourself, you were ready to have his child the moment you met him.

You’d finally had enough of Angel dropping hints, so you called up EZ asking if he wanted to spend the weekend with his favorite niece and nephew.

“They’re my only niece and nephew, Y/n,” he chuckled into the phone, “but I’ll definitely take them for the weekend.”

It was a gamble asking EZ to take the kids for the whole weekend, but he assured you that if the club needed him that he would drop them off at Felipe’s.

Once you had their overnight bags packed and dropped them off at EZ’s, you set your plan into motion.

You put on some music and took a shower before rubbing shea butter into your skin. You knew how much Angel loved the scent of shea butter. Every time you wore it, he would be all over you. Once you were done, you headed to your dresser and pulled out a pair of lingerie that you knew would drive Angel crazy.

When you were done getting dressed, you heard the rumble of Angels bike and you covered yourself in a sheer robe before walking towards the front door. You heard him come into the house just as you turned the corner and the stunned look on his face was well worth it.

Angel dropped his keys and slammed the door closed with his foot.

“What’s all this for, mi dulce?” He asked before licking his lips.

You smiled and took a step closer to him. “I've been thinking,” you said as you continued your approach. Angel pulled you flush to him when you were in arms reach, his arms roamed your body and squeezed your sides as you spoke. “Since the kids will both be in kindergarten soon, the house is going to be pretty quiet.”

“Mmhmm, go on,” Angel urged as he lifted you into his arms, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist. He kissed along the column of your neck as he began walking towards your bedroom. When you moaned instead of continuing what you were saying, he stopped his ministrations and pressed your back into the wall.

“Angel,” you begged. You could feel his hardness through his pants as he ground his pelvis into yours.

“Finish what you were saying, Y/n,” he rumbled against your neck as he continued to pepper kisses once again.

You threw your head back to give him more access but he threaded his fingers in your hair and forced you to look at him.

“Finish what you were saying, Y/n,” he repeated.

“Put a baby in me, Angel Reyes,” you whispered, and he claimed your lips in a heated kiss.

You were so engrossed in his kiss that you didn’t feel Angel's movements until he was sliding into you. You gasped at the stretch he caused each time he filled you up. Angel held your gaze as he thrust into you, refusing to let you close your eyes. 

Angel held your hips still as he pounded into you. “You wanna have my babies, Y/n?” He asked. “Yeah, you do. Fuck, you’re gripping me.” He continued to praise you. “You’re gonnna look even more beautiful when you’re round with my child. Fuck, I can see it. How many babies are you gonna give me?”

You moaned and threaded your fingers in his hair. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, but he wouldn’t grant you that until you answered him.

“Answer me, Y/n,” he growled as his hips began to move faster.

“As many, fuck Angel,” you cried. “As many as you want.” And you were telling the truth. You’d pop out as many big-headed babies as you could for this man.

“Yeah?” He asked, and you responded with a nod. “I’m gonna keep you full of me then.”

You clenched around him at the thought and his hips slowed. “You like that idea, don’t you?” He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I do,” you panted, and he granted you with a kiss. You were close to cumming, and he knew it.

“You’re gonna cum for me right here, Y/n,” he stated. You nodded your head and clenched around him again.

“And then I’m gonna fuck you while you’re grabbing your ankles,” he kissed you long and deep before he continued. “After you cum again, I’m gonna lay you out on our bed and eat this beautiful pussy, and right when you’re ready to tap out, I’m going to slide back in and cum all up in this pussy.”

You were close and he knew it, Angel snapped his hips forward a few times. “Cum on this dick, Y/n.”

You saw stars as you came around him. You clenched around him, and he growled in your ear and you felt his hips stutter as he emptied his seed inside of you.

The two of you panted as you came down from your highs. Angel still held the two of you up against the wall as you calmed down. You ran your fingers through his hair, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

Angel slowly pulled out of you and steadied you on your legs. He kissed you and began stroking his dick before he pulled away again. “Grab them ankles, Y/n, I’m not done with that ass yet.”

This wasn’t the first time that Angel had fucked you in this position, and it wouldn’t be the last. You winked at him before you slowly bent at the waist and took hold of your ankles. With the way Angel was mumbling, you knew it was going to be a long weekend. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Part Three

A/N 2: If you ‘liked’ it, please reblog or leave a comment/reply even if it’s only an emoji.

[mayans-sauce]

Hey my love..could I request prompts 3&7 with EZ pls 🥺 i love you ❤

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: cursing

Prompts: 3. “I care about you. I’ve always cared about you.” And 7. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this was better than a fancy restaurant.” I’m also going to combine it with this from @fuchszie Some EZ content. Like. Reader is insecure and they are in love with EZ but think he doesn't feel the same way because he's part of the mayans and .... he's a tough guy. But EZ feels the same way for reader. And omg so much fluff and confessions. And just. . . Soft insecure reader vibes and .... yes this. 🤣

A/N: I’m going to be honest and say that this was a bit of a tricky one but I like what I came up with! Also it turned into a little longer fic than I had planned. I hope you enjoy <3

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•• Main Masterlist •• EZ Masterlist ••

You had been in love with EZ ever since you met him four months ago. You first eyed him when your friend Lily had persuaded you to go with her to a party and not just any party, a Mayans MC party. She had been talking to a guy from the club, Angel, and she was slowly falling more and more in love with him. He had a brother, EZ, that was a part of the club as well and had recently become a full member. Lily thought that you and he would get along.

This wasn’t your typical scene, so you were nervous that you would stand out from the crown.

You weren’t one of the usual guests that would hang out at their clubhouse. The men were rugged and full of tattoos. You were nerdy and shy, your clothes colorful and not so revealing. The women there was the complete opposite of you.

When you talked to EZ for the first time, you found him to be similar to you, nerdy and joyful, but his looks were Godlike, and that made you feel insecure. You had always had problems with how you look and not believing that you were very much to look at, so being in his presence with the beautiful women circling you two to try and snatch him away made you feel small.

But his focus was on you and only you throughout the night, wanting to get to know you more and talking to you about video games, tv-shows, and whatnot.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Still, you wanted more, so much more, but you never got the nerves to ask him because he always referred to you as his best friend, and you thought that was his way of showing that he wasn’t interested in anything romantic with you.

————

Four months later and you were hanging out in the clubhouse with some of the guys. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, so the conversation quickly changed over to that and what plans people had. Angel and Lily were having a night in doing god knows what. The rest of them had plans as well with their wives, girlfriends, or just a random girl.

When the attention turned to EZ and what his plans were, you held your breath at what he was going to respond. Your heart sank when he told everyone that he would ask someone very special to him, someone he had had an eye out for a very long time, about going on a date.

You felt jealousy creep in, and your mind raced with thoughts about EZ and this mystery girl of his. Him and her out on a perfect date, laughing together and her squeezing his muscular biceps and giggling at the joke he made, and you would once again spend Valentine’s Day alone like you had all the previous years. God, you hated this girl already, and you haven’t even met her yet.

You felt better throughout the night after you had a couple of beers and chatted with your friends. At some point, EZ had pulled you to the side to ask you something. “Y/N, can I uh… ask you something?” “Yeah, EZ, sure,” you crossed your arms, waiting for whatever he was going to ask. If he was going to ask for tips about his date with the mystery girl, you were going to flip.

“I care about you. I’ve always cared about you.”

It wasn’t the direction you thought this was going to go, and you weren’t sure either where he was going with this. “I care about you to Zeke. You are my best friend, after all.”

“No, eh,” you could see him mentally shake his head to make his thoughts work. “Fuck, this was harder than I thought it would be,” he whispered to himself. “I like you.” “I like you too, Ezekiel.” “Y/N I like like you… a lot.”

You were stunned at his confession. You? Did he like you? How? Was there something wrong with your hearing because? You could have sworn you heard him say he likes you.

Your slow response made him worry, “and you don’t feel the same way... Fuck.” “No, wait, EZ, I do! I’m just shocked right now because I only thought you liked me as a friend.” “No, I've been crazy about you ever since we met.” “So am I the girl you were talking about earlier? The one you were going to ask out?” “Yes, so will you? Go out on a date with me?” “I would like that very much,” your response was casual, but inside you were screaming like a madwoman.

EZ went on about discussing where he wanted to take you, a fancy restaurant and formal clothing, it was Valentine’s Day after all, and he wanted it to be grand. You didn’t want to burst his bubble of ideas but what he was describing wasn’t precisely what you were into.

“EZ, I don’t want to be rude, I’m beyond excited to go with you, but can we do something else other than going to a fancy restaurant? It makes me a little uncomfortable.” “Of course. I want you to be comfortable. What did you have in mind?” “I have some ideas.”

————

You had decided to take EZ to the local arcade. You were nervous at how he would react to this, but he was beyond excited to have some fun with you.

It couldn’t have gone better. The colorful lights from the machines and the high of winning on all the arcade games gave you the energy to go at it for hours and not giving a care in the world if people gave you weird looks for acting like little kids.

At some point, EZ pulled you away from the crowd to a secluded area away from the kids and judging parents to have your first kiss. His warm and soft lips on yours had butterflies erupt in you. His hand caressing your cheek almost made you faint, and he needed to hold you up. You laughed against each other at your reaction, but he quickly pressed his lips on yours again, missing the feeling of them.

It was late now, and you were both hungry, so you ordered some of the greasy food they offered. Content and relaxed, you ate the food in peaceful silence, just taking in everything that had happened today.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this was better than a fancy restaurant.”

“It was. I had fun today EZ.” “Would you want to go out again? I know of a cool comic book store we can sit and read at.” You just wanted to scream in glee in his face, but that would surely change his mind about going again, so you composed yourself to try and be as casual as you could, “yes, I would like that very much.”

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[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[breanime]

Bre's Boys as dads.... How do they rectify it when they realise they've been letting work come first too much lately. Obv they wouldn't allow that overall but sometimes things get busy and your schedule can change without you noticing.

Billy Russo: Billy was used to waking up early and hearing the excited footsteps of his son running to greet him, but this morning it was different. Your son walked into the living room where Billy was on his computer, saw his father, and didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his stuffed turtle from the toy bin and walked off. “Did you see that?” Billy asked you, trying to keep the disappointment and confusion out of his voice. You sighed, shrugging. “He’s a little upset with you.” Billy’s heart stopped. “He is? Why?” You looked away, and Billy could already feel the guilt seeping in. “He says you love Anvil more than you love him.” And that sentence broke Billy’s heart. He made sure to go and talk to your son, and after that day, he made every effort he could to be home at a reasonable time and spend time with his family. The last thing he wanted was for his kid to ever feel they were unloved or unwanted, and he vowed to never let his son feel that way again. 

Logan Delos: When Logan came back from working overseas for over a month, and your daughter cried when she saw him; he knew he’d been away for too long. Logan told the company that he wouldn’t do any more long distance meetings for a while, and he actually took some time away from the office and worked at home. He remembered what it was like to be a kid and barely know his own father, and he did NOT want his daughter to know a life like that. So he worked from home and made sure he had lunch with her every day and read to her every night, determined to make sure he was always a distinct part of her life. 

Jax Teller: The club was dealing with a lot of shit lately, so Jax was extremely busy. He came home one night, just in time for story time, and he was about to surprise you and your sons, but then he heard his baby boy’s soft voice ask “does Daddy not like me anymore?” “Of course he likes you. He loves you,” you answer just as Jax’s heart breaks. “But he doesn’t come home no more... Did I do something bad?” “No,” Abel answers from his bed, “Daddy just doesn’t like to be at home.” And that made Jax want to cry. The next morning, he surprised the boys (and you) with chocolate chip pancakes and spent the whole day with them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do this all the time, but he promised himself to do it as much as he could, and to never let his family think they weren’t the absolute most important thing in his life--and he did. 

Coco Cruz: Coco is unbelievably pissed at himself when he misses your daughter’s preschool graduation. You try to make him feel better, telling him it wasn’t a big deal and there would be more events and programs in the future, but he felt like shit. All he had to remember that special day were the pictures, and when he came home and tried to hug your daughter, she crossed her arms and refused to hug him back, and wow... That shit hurt. Coco stayed up all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to think of how he could make things better. He was a Mayan, of course, but he was a father and a husband too, and he knew he had to do better in those parts of his life. So he made efforts to be present more, to make it to the events and programs and recitals, and when he couldn’t--if he was in Mexico or stuck at the clubhouse--he would call or Facetime, so his baby girl never had to go a day in her life without hearing her father’s voice. 

Angel Reyes: When Angel’s baby boy calls EZ “Papa” and cries when he sees Angel, that’s when it hits him. Angel had been busting his ass for the club lately, and so he would send EZ over to the house to check on you and the baby and make sure everything was good at home. But this was becoming so frequent, your son hardly recognized him anymore, and that broke Angel’s heart. EZ tried to make him feel better, saying that his nephew knew that Angel was his Dad, but Angel knew he had to be around more--it was simple as that. So he did. He also made it a point to refer to himself as “Daddy” or “Papi” when he spoke to his son, just to kind of drill it in. He had felt inferior to and replaced by EZ far too often in his life, and he’d be damned if his own son chose EZ over him. 

Miguel Galindo: Miguel worked from home, but that didn’t mean he was around much. He made sure to show his face a few times a day, but he didn’t spend as much time with his kids as he wanted to. He was in-between calls, walking towards the library to grab a file, when he heard voices. “Bam bam,” your daughter said, her little squeaky voice making Miguel smile, “how come Papa doesn’t play with us like Mama does?” Miguel’s smile dropped. Cristobal sighed. “He’s too busy,” he answered, “Papa works a lot.” “Oh,” your daughter’s voice sounded sad, “does he like us?” Cristobal paused, and that pause said so much to Miguel. “I think so,” his son answered. That was it. Miguel took the family on a vacation and made sure to play with the kids as much as he could. Miguel remembered being a child and not really having a relationship with his father, and he hated the idea of being like Jose in that regard, so every day, Miguel made sure to spend actual, quality time with his children as much as he could. 

Nick Amaro: The day Nick calls his son the name of the perp on his latest case is the day he realizes he’s been working too much. The self-disgust is overwhelming, and Nick decides to take the some much needed time off to be with his family. It does wonders; he’s happier, you’re happier, the kids are happier--and Nick quickly comes to the conclusion that family time is beneficial to all of you, and he works hard to maintain and build that family time as best as he can. He can’t always spare hours on end, but he makes time as he gets it, which isn’t nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. Plus, there was no sound sweeter than the sound of his kids’ laughter, and he’d do anything to hear that sound as often as he could. 

Johnny Tuturro: Working with the FBI and being a father was tough, but Johnny thought he was pretty good at it. He was there, more often than not, when your daughter woke up in the morning, and he always called to say good night if he wasn’t home. He was kicking ass at this life thing--or so he thought. One night, when he called, he heard his precious baby girl say “I don’t wanna talk to Daddy!” “What? Why?” You asked. “I want Daddy to come home!” She cried back, and Johnny felt tears in his eyes as he listened to her cry. This half-in, half-out thing just wasn’t enough--he had to do better. So Johnny put in a request to get off of undercover work and work on cases from an office. He was able to have breakfast, dinner, and storytime with his family, and that made all the difference in the world. 

Rio: Rio came home late one night to find Marcus waiting for him. “What you still doin’ up, papa?” Rio asked, whispering so he didn’t wake you or his baby up. “I just wanted to see you,” Marcus answered, getting up, “We forgot what color your eyes were.” And with that, he was gone. Rio stood in the living room for what felt like hours after that, picturing Marcus and your son discussing him and not remembering what their dad looked like because he was working so much. The thought made him sick. He got on the phone then and told Mick they were gonna cut back on distribution until they found more reliable employees, and Rio made sure to spend as much quality time with you and the kids as he could. He knew, of course, that there would still be times he worked late, but he talked about his absences with the kids, and made sure they knew that their Daddy loved them, and would do with anything for them. So even if he was gone, they knew he would come back, and they knew how much he loved them. 

*******************************************************************************************

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[eryiss]

Chapter Two: ADAPTION

Summary: The Justine's were always a criminal family. The Dreyar's were forced into it due to prohibition. After gaining power and influence in the criminal world, the families were forced into a fragile truce. This was until the recently disowned Freed Justine arrived at Laxus Dreyar's door, demanding a job in exchange for information that could bring his family down. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, hosted by @ft-ez-bb. I have been paired up with the wonderful @fairiesherefairiesthere​, who's made this great piece of art. Remember to give them lots of love.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Two – Adaption

~Five Weeks Later~

Being at an opera, sitting beside Freed Justine of all people, was not something Laxus could have expected would happen.

Even though he had been the person to suggest it, he hadn't actually expected Freed to agree. He'd gotten the tickets on a whim, a spur of the moment purchase because of a shockingly persuasive kid standing and yelling at the corner of a nearby building advertising the thing. Even when he had been buying the damn tickets he didn't expect Freed to agree to the suggestion, and yet two days later he found himself in a private box, watching Cleopatra's Night at the Neapolitan Opera with his most recently hired employee and newly appointed criminal consultant beside him.

He was making a conscious effort not to think about why he'd offered the ticket to Freed of all people, and why Freed had agreed so easily. To achieve this, he put all his focus on the show. But that wasn't easy given his lack of passion for opera, and with the intermission looming he only had a vague idea about what was actually happening. There was Cleopatra, obviously, as well as some maids and a lion hunter obsessed with the queen. It was all very… dramatic. And the lion hunter pissed Laxus off; who would let themselves be murdered just so he could sleep with a woman?

Freed seemed to share the opinion, as pretty much every time the hunter walked onto the stage Freed would either roll his eyes, mutter under his breath or shuffle in his seat in apparent boredom.

"He ain't your type, huh?" Laxus whispered, their private box meaning nobody could hear them.

"Obsessive, overdramatic, no sense of boundaries and constantly cruel to a woman for no reason? You might have to hold me back from storming the stage and taking him here and now," Freed murmured sarcastically.

Laxus chuckled. Over the past few weeks he had spent a lot of time with Freed, as he'd turned from just his pianist into his official criminal advisor. The shift from a distrustful antagonism with a hint of teasing to a genuine friendship had been shockingly easy.

Most nights, after Freed had played to his crowd of adoring subjects, he would climb to the office and offer Laxus advice and his expertise on issues Laxus might have faced. Often times this wasn't needed as such – Laxus knew what he was doing most of the time, and Freed's advice more supplemented his actions than guided them completely – but those talks were good. Freed was quick witted and had a morbid droll to him. Teasing the man had been fun, but sharing a joke and balking out a laugh with him was a noticeable improvement.

Freed might have agreed, as he seemed more comfortable in his position now. This new found security in his job had brought out the arrogant man that he'd first been when he'd stormed into Laxus' house that night. He was cocky, and it was fun to spar with him.

"Though the actor does seem familiar," Freed commented, leaning forward slightly as he watched the stage. "I think I may have kissed him in a club a few years back. What's his name?"

"Erm," Laxus looked at the playbill in his hand. "Rufus Lore."

"Yes, that's him. A little annoying really," Freed chuckled. "He tried to convince me I was his first kiss, which might have worked had we not frequented the same clubs. Quite often I'd watch him sneaking into a back room with a man he'd enraptured; he got quite the reputation."

"And you still kissed him?"

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," Freed shrugged. "I still don't understand, he was average at best. Maybe he's just well-endowed."

Laxus laughed and let out a quiet 'fucks sake.' As they'd developed a friendship of sorts, Laxus had made an effort to show how little he cared for Freed's fondness of men. He sometimes brought it up, mainly in companionable jest, and Freed seemed comfortable to speak of it without care. And in the few instances where the topic would arise with any seriousness, Laxus would be careful with his words and make sure not to cause any offense.

This was mainly to make sure his friend felt comfortable with him; Laxus' grandfather had drilled into him that some laws were pathetically stupid and immoral, and that people were who they were. These were views that Laxus kept close to his heart.

There was also a small hope that being blindly accepting of Freed might plant the seed that Laxus shared his inclination. It was a lot easier than having the conversation.

Laxus hated that conversation.

He pushed that thought to then back of his mind – as he did with the thoughts of Freed's past dalliances with men – and instead, put his focus on the show before him. It was still fairly tedious to watch, and the hunter grated on his nerves. But Freed kept up his murmured commentary, and it made the show a little more bearable.

A little while later, the lights of the opera house raised, signalling the beginning of the intermission. Both men stood and walked from their private box and towards the lobby, where a bar went unused for anything other than soft drinks. Many people were standing around, all of whom seemed to be very wealthy and very interested in the show they had been watching. Laxus would bet a good few dollar that most of them didn't care about the show and only came because they wanted to sound intellectual and well cultured, and that grated on Laxus' nerves slightly. Rich assholes.

"Wanna get a smoke outside?" He offered Freed. "Less cramped than in here?"

"I don't smoke," Freed replied. "But I can join you."

They both left the lobby and walked to the front staircase of the opera house. They leant against the stone wall of the staircase, Laxus making sure he was downwind of Freed so that the smoke from his cigars wouldn't blow into his face. He pulled his cigars from their case, struck a match, and lit it. As he smoked, his eyes lingered to Freed, who stood in the moonlight with a great sense of belonging. He seemed in his element for the first time since Laxus had seen him, other than when he was playing at night.

"You been here before?" He asked.

"What makes you think that? You assume I have friends in the theatre?" Freed smirked, and Laxus chuckled at the reference to the ridiculous analogy used to describe gay men.

"I know you do, you just told me you kissed the star of the show," Laxus chuckled, after making sure nobody was in ear shot of course. "And the reason I was askin' is because you look like you belong in a place like that. High culture, shit like that."

"Most of the people I associated with were in the arts in some capacity. Poets, actors, painters; those sorts mainly. Of course there was the occasional criminal who made things a little interesting, but most of my friends were what you might consider cultured," Freed mused aloud. "Though I think what really grouped them all together was their willingness to leave my life entirely when I lost my money. Shocking, isn't it?"

Laxus chuckled, but didn't speak. He took a drag of his cigar and looked down the busy streets of New York. It was spitting rain, though not heavy enough for him to care, and the flickering street lamps reflected in the puddles starting to form. Laxus had always liked the rain.

"Why did you bring me here tonight?" Freed asked, and Laxus looked to him in surprise.

"Because you've been helpin' me out a lot, and I thought you'd enjoy it," Laxus shrugged, taking another drag of the cigar, and slowly letting the smoke stream from his lips. "And I never had the money to do anythin' like this before, and I wanted to see what it was like. Saw it as an opportunity to get two things done at once."

Freed took a moment before speaking again. "I almost believe you."

"Why almost?"

"Because you're not meeting my eye," Freed supplied. "And you always meet my eye when you're being honest. A habit you really should get out of, given your propensity to make hollow threats, but that's beside the point. Why are we really here?"

Laxus couldn't be fully honest, but he could answer the question somewhat.

"There's been… We never really got into the crime world more than we had to. People thought we did – thought we were blackmailing one half of the police force and pointing guns at the others – but most of the illegal things we did was just getting the booze and selling it. We just made sure never to correct people when they thought we were dangerous" Laxus sighed. "But with your help, we're getting further into it. And it's working out well, so doesn't think I ain't grateful, but there's a lot more to think about. Just had a lot of stress I suppose; wanted to have a break from it all."

"That makes sense," Freed nodded slightly. "And why me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but being alone would be cheaper. And a man such as yourself could have any woman he wanted on his arm, and any other part of his body I dare say. And you're not short of women around you, many of them willing by the looks of it."

Laxus made a conscious effort to ignore the 'man such as yourself' comment.

"You must have realised that, in these circles, there are men who know me. Know of my fondness's as well," Freed continued, and Laxus' eyes flickered to him again. "It's entirely likely that they'll see a man with me, and make assumptions."

"Let 'em think what they think. They'll either not know who I am, and in that case it doesn't matter what they think, or they will know, and they'll probably be shit scared of me," Laxus shrugged.

He watched as Freed's brows tightened slightly, and his eyes flickered over Laxus' face inquisitively. Laxus didn't say anything, because he knew that most men wouldn't be so flippant about being mistaken for a lover of other men. And, as Laxus didn't want to have the conversation about why he didn't bat an eyelid about people making that assumption, he instead let Freed's mind wonder in the hopes he would come to the conclusion himself.

Freed might also understand the other reason they were here together. The reason Laxus wasn't ready to admit to just yet, not even to himself.

"Very well," Freed said, a level of surety in his voice now. "I've had a delightful time, no matter what the reason. You're good company."

"So are you," Laxus parroted, and grinned at Freed over his cigar.

"And by the sounds of it, I seem proficient in distracting you," Freed smirked, and Laxus felt his face flush lightly.

Freed chuckled, patted Laxus' arm with a slightly too firm hand, and said he would see Laxus at their seats. As he turned and walked away, Laxus found it impossible for his eyes to stray from his retreating figure, in the expensive velvet tuxedo that complimented his angular form in the moonlight. Only when the man was back in the building could Laxus look away, and he took another drag of his cigar with a very light quiver in his breath.

"You've no fuckin' idea," He muttered as he blew out a final puff of smoke.

~~~

~3 Months Later~

Freed had his eyes closed as his fingers danced across the keys before him. Fairy Tail's piano was a beautiful thing – large, polished, made of mahogany wood, with its mechanisms open for all to see – and Freed had grown to love playing it after months of his new employ.

The entire sensation was indescribable. Before joining Fairy Tail he hadn't played often, given his father's dissatisfaction for him doing anything he deemed to be feminine or artistic. When he first joined the tavern he'd been somewhat stilted while performing, talents rusty from disuse. But as he spent more time playing, refining the art, the more he enjoyed it. The feel of the keys pushing against his fingers, the vibrations of the sounds against his legs, the thrumming effect on his heart. It was an incredible feeling, and one he was addicted to.

Which was why it was perhaps childish to use it to drown out the teasing of his friends.

"We can wait," Bickslow sang over the loud music filling the speakeasy. He was standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, grinning. Freed continued playing, pushing his fingers against the keys with more effort.

"You'll get tired eventually, you know," Evergreen added, leaning on the side of the piano.

The musical stalemate lasted a few moments longer, partly because Freed knew there was an inevitability in the situation and partly because his fingers were starting to cramp. He finished the tune with perhaps more of a flourish than he needed to – it was just the three of them there, after all – and looked at his two friends' amused expressions with boredom. They both grinned at his expectantly.

"What 'cha hiding from us, Freed?" Bickslow began, smiling.

"Nothing," Freed lied.

He really didn't think his secret – if it could be called that – was really anything of note. It was his birthday, something he didn't particularly care about because he wasn't ten years old. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, mainly because a month prior it had been Erza's birthday, and they had celebrated with a party that was far too loud and obnoxious for Freed's liking. He didn't want something like that for himself, so he had kept the event quiet.

How Bickslow and Evergreen had picked up on the fact Freed was hiding something, he didn't know. He used to pride himself on having an impeccable poker face, but they'd seen through it. Being in Fairy Tail, an environment where lying wasn't commonplace, must have made him complacent. He was slipping.

Or maybe he was just more effected by the day than he'd wanted. It was his first birthday without being with his family and, despite the fact most of them were obnoxious assholes – which was a very kind way to phrase it really – they were still his family. Rather than a lavish, somewhat awkward dinner at an expensive restaurant, he would be working for most of the night and returning to his tiny boarding house simply to sleep. Perhaps the lack of the usual pomp and circumstance was bothering him more than he'd wanted, and it was obvious on his face.

Not that he wanted fuss. He wouldn't be keeping the day a secret if he did. It was just unusual, that was all.

"Then why were you playing while we tried to talk to you?" Evergreen asked, pushing off the piano when Freed moved from the seat and towards the table they often frequented.

"I need to keep myself sharp, I was practicing," Freed shrugged. It wasn't technically untrue. "You too should perhaps try it."

"You know," Bickslow said, and Freed could hear amusement in his voice. "You're right. We should."

Before Freed could say anything, a large hand grabbed his arm. A moment later Bickslow's bodyweight was pushing down on Freed, and his other hand was on the back of Freed's head. His cheek was slammed against the table with a loud and echoing thud, and Freed grunted as his side was pushed roughly against the side of the furniture. He narrowed his eyes as his face was pushed into a puddle of spilled beer, and he struggled to get out of the large man's grasp.

"You tell me what I wanna know or I'll bash your knees in, pretty boy," Bickslow growled into Freed's ear, voice darker and gravellier than normal. The effect was ruined slightly by the giggle that followed.

"Go ahead," Freed grunted, calling Bickslow's bluff as he pushed up against the hand holding him down. He still couldn't move; Bickslow was good at this. "Though I doubt you will, so get off me."

"Fine," Bickslow chuckled, removed his hands from Freed and allowing him to stand upright again. He grinned at the glare he received. "You're right I guess. I mean, what would the boss say if his favourite got hurt and it was because of me? He'd go mad."

Freed gave him a levelled, unimpressed look. The idea that he was in some way Laxus' favourite was something that had spread quickly throughout Fairy Tail, and almost every staff member seemed to enjoy mocking Freed with it. He didn't particularly understand where the idea Laxus preferred him came from, other than perhaps they spent a lot of time together given his position of Laxus' advisor. Just because they talked a lot didn't mean he was treated differently, though.

He'd tried explaining this, but Evergreen brought up the opera tickets. And the letter of recommendation sent to his landlord. And the bi-weekly trips to restaurants so his criminal solicitation wasn't always in the office.

They might have had something of a point…

But Laxus was kind to all of his employees. It was entirely possible that Laxus gave the same level of attention to everyone else, and Freed was mocked because his pride made his reactions entertaining. The excuse was flimsy at best, but Freed decided to believe it.

As he went to say something in argument, the door to the speakeasy opened and light flickered in. All three of them looked over just in case a drunk or criminal walked into the bar unknowingly and needed persuasion to leave. However, when they sat it was Laxus, they removed their hands from their weapons. Freed was quick to give Bickslow a warning glance as he turned back to his drink; Bickslow just grinned back at him widely.

"You three alright?" Laxus asked as he walked towards them.

"We're fine, just taking some time before we start work," Freed spoke first, before either of his companions could bring Laxus into their discussion. "You're not normally hear at this time. Nothing's wrong, I hope."

"Nah, was just getting sick of being at home; Gramps just keeps talking, gets to be too much. Might as well get some work done," Laxus shrugged.

He went on to keep walking, but as he looked at Freed he frowned and stopped. The two men looked at one another, Freed confused as to why Laxus' eyes were flickering over his face.

He watched wordlessly as Laxus took a step forward and slowly, gently brought his finger to Freed's cheek and stroked it with a knuckle.

Freed froze, Bickslow sniggered, Evergreen muttered a quiet 'oh my god', and Laxus brought his slight wet finger to his nose to sniff; he winced a little at the scent of harsh booze.

"Why've you got the cheap shit on your cheek?" He asked, looking to Freed.

"Well," Freed forced out, blinking away whatever emotion Laxus' gentle touch had stirred up inside him. "Your employee decided to test out his intimidation techniques on me. Apparently coating me with my spilled drink is part of that."

"You're still drinking this?" Laxus asked, flicking the cheap alcohol off his finger. "You know you can have whatever you want, right? I ain't gonna get pissed if you take the top shelf stuff."

"I like the moonshine," Freed shrugged, slightly lying.

Laxus rolled his eyes, walked from the table that the three were sitting at and leant over the bar. Freed watched Laxus as he pulled out a single, unopened bottle of what seemed to be port, purposefully ignoring the chuckling coming from Evergreen and the leg nudges from Bickslow below the table. Laxus walked back, placing the large bottle of high-end port onto the table in front of Freed, either unaware or uncaring to the teasing Freed was forced to endure.

"This is yours," Laxus informed Freed, and the pianist frowned towards the bottle. "I know you're a port drinker, and this is a good label, so don't act like you don't want it. Leave the crap for the cheaper customers."

"You needn't do that," Freed began, tensing at the barely held giggles from his friends. "I'm perfectly fine with-"

"It's a gift," Laxus shrugged, grinning. "It's what you give people on their birthday, isn't it?"

Freed paused, then blinked. "How did you-"

"It's my job to know," Laxus shrugged. "Now, yer gonna make the most of your present and have a good drink before you get to work. You're not gonna share it with these freeloading asshats who look like they're having some kind of fit for some fucking reason," Freed glanced to Bickslow and Evergreen, who were red with restrained laughter. "And I doubt you wanted a party but tough shit. Mirajane's baking a cake and once we're done for the night we're gonna toast ya and your just gonna have to deal with it. That a problem?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Freed asked, resignedly amused.

"Not a bit," Laxus laughed. He began to walk towards his office, but paused and looked back. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure that half the customers come here 'cause the pianist has a pretty face. So wash up; boss's orders."

He walked away before anyone at the table could speak.

Freed watched him go, before turning and looking at the bottle of port that remained untouched. As had often happened with Laxus, Freed found himself looking back on a conversation to understand what had actually been said. The blonde was like a whirlwind in many ways, and Freed seemed to be captured in his draw very often.

Had he stroked Freed's cheek? And how had he known that it was Freed's birthday? And had he just called Freed pretty? It had all been so nonchalant, as if it were second nature for Laxus, and Freed almost thought he might have imagined it all.

"Oh yeah," Bickslow laughed after a moment. "We're all the same to him. No favourites here."

That was how the rest of the day went for Freed, with Bickslow and Evergreen teasing him; a few other members of the bar also joined in when the opportunity arose. He took the jokes as well as he could, which was somewhat difficult given that both the bottle of port and the slight flushing on his cheeks acted as constant reminders of what Laxus had done.

Once his night of playing was over and the bar closed to the public, a cake was presented to him. Nobody sang, and the party was on a much smaller scale than it had been for everyone else, but enough of a fuss was made of Freed for him to almost forget Laxus' actions. Almost.

As he walked to his boarding house, he found himself replaying the moments through his head again and again. The gentle touch of Laxus' shockingly soft knuckles against his skin was tantalising, and the ease with which he complimented Freed was so… unusual.

Laxus presented himself to be a man's man, always in control and a symbol of strength for those who needed it. Freed had known men like that, he'd been with men like that, and they'd always seen compliments as a sign of weakness. Laxus clearly didn't see it like that, and although Freed considered himself more handsome than pretty, having a man like Laxus compliment him so unabashedly was thrilling.

Freed would posture that anything Laxus did would be thrilling; Laxus was that type of man.

And he had to believe that Laxus wouldn't mind. Because, as much as Freed denied it, Laxus' treatment of him was hardly platonic. Platonic men didn't take other men to the opera. Platonic men didn't stroke other men's cheeks for no reason. Platonic men didn't flip their opinions on other men so quickly. If he were a romantic, he might say Laxus was treating him like he'd treat someone during courtship.

He might say he'd enjoy it, were he more honest with himself.

Before he could fixate on that thought, he pushed open the door to his boarding house, locking it behind him and was met by a glare form his landlady: Porlyusica.

"You're late," The old woman grunted. "I nearly locked you out."

"And I'm grateful that you didn't," Freed said placatingly. The small room he rented was the best he could get, and he couldn't risk alienating her. "I assume I will be paying you a little more rent this month as to not encourage this behaviour."

"You will," She agreed. She stood up from her rocking chair, picking something up from a sideboard and offering it to Freed. It was an envelope with his name written on it in cursive. "For you."

"Thank you," Freed smiled. "Goodnight Porlyusica."

The woman grunted in response, and Freed climbed the staircase to get to his rented room. He closed the door behind him and bolted it, looking around the small living room and bedroom combination, before collapsing into the armchair.

He relaxed for a moment before glancing to the envelope he'd been given. His stomach dropped as he looked at it, dread filling him. The handwriting was instantly recognisable to him.

It was his father's writing.

Any glimmer of optimism that had grown during his time in Fairy Tail died instantly.

Dread rushed through him, hands shaking ever so slightly as he opened the envelope. His father couldn't know where he lived; he just couldn't. Freed had done everything he could to avoid any of his family or their employees finding him. He lived on the opposite side of New York so nobody would stumble across him, he walked home through side streets and winding paths as not to be followed, and he made sure his payments to Porlyusica always were without a contract so he couldn't be traced. For heaven's sake, he even made a point to avoid the streetlights so that he couldn't be seen. And it had all been for nothing.

He opened the envelope with trepidation, to see a cheap looking birthday card inside. He read and reread the small message inside multiple times, blood freezing as he tensed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, his breath slightly shaky now.

'My Dear Son. I Will See You Soon. Your Loving Father.'

~~~

~One Week Later~

Laxus had never been held at gunpoint. It felt almost aethereal.

He'd thought about it. As a career criminal, making dangerous enemies with murderous intent was an occupational hazard. Being a so-called rising name in the criminal world meant ruffling the feathers of powerful and dangerous people, many of whom had a propensity to violence. It had seemed almost inevitable that he'd push someone over the edge at some point, and that it would end up with a gun being pointed to his head.

Whenever he had thought about it, he expected that he'd be calm and collected. That he'd be okay, because he knew that nobody would actually shoot him because it was too big of a risk. That he'd be able to smooth things out and nobody would need to get hurt; and if someone did get hurt it sure as fuck wouldn't be him.

The reality was less heroic. It was more… terrifying.

He was, to his credit, not showing his fear. He sat in his office chair, looking at the two men aiming guns in his direction. He leant back, trying to seem as though he was nonchalant and unbothered by the threat, but his blood was rushing and his adrenaline thrumming through his mind as if a scream in his ears. His foot bounced slightly under the desk, as it was the only way to dismiss the fearful energy flowing through him. It was either that, or let the people threatening to kill him see his hands shaking with every movement.

"Where is he?" One of the men – tall, maroon-brown hair, with a scar over his eye – demanded in a growl.

"Who?" Laxus retorted, voice not shaking.

"You know damn well who," The man snarled back, pushing the gun forward an inch.

He did know, of course. He'd seen the large, white car pulling up in front of the bar, and he'd recognised it easily. It was one of the many overly expensive cars owned by the Justine Family's highest-ranking associates. When the men left their car, he'd taken the few spare moments to rush down and push his remaining staff members out through the back door without explanation. Thankfully, it was late enough in the night for only two people to still be in the bar, other than Laxus.

But it was obvious who they wanted. Freed. Why they wanted him, Laxus didn't know, but he could guess by their expressions that it wouldn't be for good. And the idea of turning Freed over to these men, with their snarling teeth and readied guns, sent a protective rush through him he hadn't felt before.

He wouldn't let them near him. He wouldn't.

"He ain't here," Laxus grunted back. "And if he was, he ain't gonna go with you."

"He'll go where we tell him to," The other man, a tall, blonde man spoke up. Laxus looked towards him, but stopping from moving when the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his head. "Unless you wanna trouble him with disposing of ya body, blondie."

"Well he ain't here," Laxus growled, anger mixing with his fear. "So fuck off."

"And leave you to warn him," The scarred man chuckled. "Nah. I'll go see the little queer, and my friend here is gonna make sure you don't move, and if either of you piss me off, then he's gonna give this office a nice new paint job. You understand?"

If the threat wasn't obvious, the blonde man pushed the gun against Laxus' temple with more force, and Laxus tensed.

"Fuckers," He growled, and the scarred man laughed. "I should take that gun and shove it up yer-"

He paused.

They all did, and even the press of the gun against his head relented slightly. From the lower level of the building, where the main hall of the tavern was, music was being played. Loud, unabashedly confident and very familiar to Laxus' ears; it was undoubtedly Freed's music. A new rush of dread ran over him, because his own life being at risk was bad enough, but to have Freed in the same building as the men who wanted to abduct him, and possibly kill him for all Laxus knew, was terrifying in a way that Laxus couldn't quantify.

The music echoed through the silent room, the pleasant tone completely at odds with the tense fear that was almost palpable. Laxus silently prayed that somehow Freed would stop, that he'd be somehow aware of the danger he was in and would run for the hills, but that wouldn't happen. The reality of the situation suddenly hit Laxus; both he and Freed were in danger. They could die.

"Up," The scarred man demanded, flicking his gun up slightly.

Laxus did as he was told, and the gun against his head moved to his lower back. He was pushed out of his office, and forced to walk down the staircase, Freed's music getting louder the closer to the piano he got.

When he saw the man, dread filled him. Freed's eyes were closed, and his head swaying gently as it often did when he was caught up in the rhythm of a song. Laxus looked on in horror, because not only did Freed not seem to know the danger he was in, he also didn't seem at all prepared for it. Why couldn't he just open his eyes and run, there was enough time. He probably couldn't even hear them approaching, the sound of his music too overpowering to his ears. Laxus didn't know what to do.

Why was Freed even there? He had left nearly half an hour ago, he should be back in boarding house by now, not here. Even though they apparently knew where he lived – which was a worry itself – at least if he was there he'd only be dealing with one of them.

Maybe Laxus could fight them off. It was a risk, but he was bigger than them both. He could overpower the blonde one, maybe take his gun and shoot the other. It could work.

Or maybe if he tried, he'd be shot. Or Freed would be shot.

Panic overtook every good sense he had, and despite his need to do something, anything, that could take both him and Freed out of danger, he could only walk. He was taken to the middle of the tavern floor, and looked on in fear as the gun was pushed into his spine with nearly enough force to make his knees buckle. Freed was still playing the damned piano and Laxus thought through all the things that he could have done that would have stopped the situation from happening if he'd known. He would have dealt with the two invaders while he had the chance, he would have locked the damn front door so Freed couldn't get in, he would have smashed the fucking piano with a sledgehammer if it meant this wouldn't happen.

The sound of music slowly fading away cut through the spiralling panic that he was feeling, and Laxus' eyes flickered to see Freed was looking at him with concern. The expression only lasted for a moment, before he looked at the two men: one pressing a gun into Laxus' back, the other pointing his gun at Freed.

"Sawyer, Erik," Freed said calmly, and he smiled at them. "How pleasant it is to see you both."

"We don't go by those names anymore," The blonde growled, and Laxus felt the gun push further into his back.

"Well I'm certainly not going to call you Racer and Cobra, am I?" Freed chuckled, still sitting behind the piano. "You're grown adult men, not stooges in a low budget comedy show. You should start acting like it."

"Motherfucker," The man, Sawyer apparently, muttered harshly.

"You're gonna come with us," The other man, Erik, demanded as he took a step forward. The gun remained pointed directly at Freed's face, and Freed maintained his pleasant smile as the violator approached. "Your father wants to see you."

"I don't believe I have a father," Freed tilted his head as if confused. "I lost that right when he disowned me. He made that quite clear."

"We'll kill him if you don't," Erik threatened, and the gun was pushed with force into Laxus back.

The sudden harsh movement took Laxus by surprise, and his legs buckled with the strain. He fell to his knees and before he could do anything about it, and Sawyer's gun was pressed against the back of his head. Laxus glared down at the floor, pissed that he'd allowed himself to fall so easily. His eyes flickered to Freed, who had lost his slightly amused expression and replaced it with one of seriousness.

It was a heavy expression, one that seemed to tell Laxus that he wouldn't allow anything to happen to him. A pathetic level of comfort came from that, even if Laxus felt he should be the one assuring Freed, not the other way around.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," Freed mused a moment later, looking at the man holding a gun to Laxus' head. "You've finally got a man on his knees for you, Sawyer. Though not for lack of trying."

"I ain't like you," Sawyer growled, and Laxus shot Freed a look as the gun pushed his head down further.

"Please, if I'd given you the slightest attention you would have done anything I asked," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the stool he was sitting on. "I could have clicked my fingers and you would have come to heel."

"I am not one of you," Sawyer repeated, and his tone told Laxus his entire body was tensed.

"Well, it's either that, or you just have a great fascination for my legs and the front of my trousers," Freed taunted, and Laxus hoped to god that he knew what he was doing. Because fear was rushing through Laxus, hammering at him like a siren now. "Not that I'd indulge you, of course. From what I've heard, you're driving isn't the only thing that's over before it begins. I suppose calling yourself Racer is quite accurate. Though I'd wager 'Quickdraw' might be a little more succinct in getting the message across."

"Racer," Erik interrupted quietly, in a warning tone.

"Mother fucker!" Sawyer snarled.

Laxus found himself pushed to the ground, and he looked up as Sawyer walked over him and stormed towards Freed, the gun now pointing at the other man. Laxus scrambled to stand up, but glanced towards Erik to see that now he was aiming at Laxus. The blonde froze, because Erik now had his hand on the trigger, and he could easily pull it before Laxus could do anything.

But he had to do something. Because apparently Freed's plan had been to annoy Sawyer to the point where he left Laxus alone, which had worked. But now Sawyer was pissed off at Freed, holding a weapon and advancing on his with speed. Laxus glanced towards him, dread flooding him again at the very real possibility that Sawyer might use the weapon on Freed. And Laxus hadn't been able to stop it from happening, he hadn't been able to protect the man he was falling for and he might die and Laxus would have to watch and-

An ear-splitting sound attacked Laxus' ears. Only a moment later, Laxus realised it was a gunshot.

He breathed raggedly, terror overpowering the ringing in his ears. It hadn't been Erik's gun, or Laxus would have been shot. Which meant it had been Sawyers, which had been pointing towards Freed.

Freed.

Fuck. Shit!

Laxus stumbled to his feet, not caring if Erik saw this as justification for shooting. He staggered towards the piano, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Sawyer doubled over, screeching in pain, and leaning against the instrument for support. Laxus looked down to see blood staining Sawyers trousers, a little below the knee. When Laxus looked up again, Freed was holding a gun of his own, glaring unsympathetically at Sawyer while advancing on him. The look on his face was without emotion, Laxus might consider it to be murderous in its calm.

"Bastard!" Sawyer yelled.

Freed continued walking, and Laxus watched as Freed kicked the gun that had fallen to the floor away. He looked down at Sawyer, who was openly crying as he looked at his gunshot wound, and then to Erik, who was flicking his weapon between the two men. When Freed aimed at Erik, the criminal aimed back.

"You are going to leave this place," Freed said, with a level of calculated authority that Laxus hadn't heard from the man. It was intense, angry, and powerful. "And you will tell my father to leave me alone."

"No," Erik demanded back.

"Then I will kill you," Freed growled, and the seriousness in his tone sent a worried chill down Laxus' spine. "And I will use your corpses as a clear message to my father."

Laxus watched the stalemate with wide eyes, the two men aiming guns at one another. Laxus went to move, but the half step he took was enough to have Erik's gun aimed at him. He froze, and slowly the gun panned towards Freed again. Laxus was half tempted to get the attention back on him, at least that way Freed would be at less of a risk.

The few seconds where he thought Freed had been shot were hell. Laxus couldn't think of another word to describe it, but he wouldn't risk it again.

"You ain't got the balls to kill someone," Erik snarled. "You're just the prissy little son."

Freed, still wearing a mask of stoic calmness, started to walk towards Erik with his gun outstretched. Laxus watched, eyes wide as his pianist walked so that he was in Erik's personal space. The blonde's breath caught when he watched Freed move his head down, so that Erik's pistol was pushing against his forehead. If Erik pulled the trigger, Freed would be dead. There was no doubt; why the hell had Freed done that?

"Why don't we see who's really serious," Freed said, deadly calm, pressing his own gun against Erik's forehead. "Because we both know how that will end up."

Laxus didn't dare move, watching as Freed pushed himself further forward, Erik's gun pressed against his forehead. Freed clearly forced Erik to maintain eye contact, almost trapping the other man's gaze, and Laxus watched with bated breath as the stalemate reignited, hoping to god that Freed knew what he was doing because Laxus was terrified. If Erik shot, then Freed would die and Laxus would only be able to watch and he couldn't deal with that. He just couldn't.

A slight clattering to his left caught Laxus attention. He flicked his head over to see Sawyer slowly crawling across the floor, blood trailing behind him. He was clearly going towards his discarded gun, and Laxus moved before thinking. He couldn't let another weapon be involved in the situation.

He walked forward and slammed the man's head into the floor.

Sawyer stopped moving, clearly knocked out, and Laxus would have been lying if he said that the feeling of violence wasn't a little cathartic. But he couldn't distract himself, so he looked to the stalemate again, to see that neither of the two men had moved. Laxus took a small level of relief from the fact that it hadn't gotten worse, but that was a cold comfort.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice venom now. "You are going to leave. You'll take Sawyer with you. And you will tell my father that, unless he wishes for his men to be killed and left on his doorstep, he will leave me, and the people in this tavern, the hell alone. Do you understand me?"

There was silence, and Laxus felt as though he couldn't breathe.

With a snarl, Erik stepped back and removed his gun from Freed's forehead. Freed kept his aim steady, even as Erik placed his gun under his belt again.

Laxus let out a silent, haggard breath of relief, feeling somewhat safe for the first time since he had seen their car parking outside the tavern. He was still tense and wary though, because Erik was still there and he still had a gun with him, even if he had removed it from sight.

There was silence as Erik looked down at the slowly breathing Sawyer, before picking him up and placing him over his shoulder. Freed maintained his aim as he motioned for him to leave, which Erik moved to do. He spat at the floor as he left.

Both men followed Erik, Freed still holding his gun towards him. They watched in silence as Erik tossed the man in the back seat, before climbing into the driver's seat and driving off, glaring at them both as he did so.

Once he was out of sight, and they were safe, anger exploded in Laxus.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Laxus shouted, turning to Freed and glaring at him with sudden fury. Freed looked at him as he placed his gun in his jacket pocket, squaring his shoulders. "Did you not realise they were there, or are you just fucking stupid? What the fuck were you even doing here?"

"I left my wallet here, so I came to return it," Freed explained, and Laxus noted a tenseness in his jaw. "And of course I knew they were here; I know Sawyer's car."

"Then why the fuck did you come inside?" Laxus yelled, voice snarling in a protective rage. "Why didn't you use your fucking brain and run the hell away? You can't be that fucking stupid that you thought they were here for a good reason. Did you not even take a second to think they might wanna hurt you? For fucks sake, you played a fucking song. Did you wanna taunt them into killing you? Wanna make yourself feel like a big man before they shot you in the chest? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, Laxus, that I might be better equipped to deal with the situation than you," Freed growled back, and his tone was almost as venomous as it had been when speaking with Erik. "I thought that you were a naive danger to yourself who knows nothing of violence compared to me, and that I'd rather be there to help than let you get killed through inaction."

"You pushed his gun to your head," Laxus growled. "You were inviting him to kill you!"

"I was calling his bluff," Freed snarled back. "He wouldn't kill anyone in my family, disowned or otherwise. He's a coward, as is Sawyer. I'm surprised father sent them of all people, I expected better."

"You expected this!"

"My father knows where I live," Freed snapped. "It was a matter of time."

"Why the fuck didn't you think to tell me?" Laxus demanded.

"I didn't expect him to send people here," Freed grunted. "I assumed he'd deal with it at my home."

"I don't give a shit that it happened in the bar, Freed," Laxus yelled again, anger and exasperation in his tone. "I care that he sent a gunman to get you, I care that he wants you back and he seems willing to hurt and kill people to do it, I care that you could have been shot in there. Fucks sake, what if you didn't shoot Sawyer in time and he got a shot off on you. I couldn't have fucking saved you from that, but if you told me he's after you I could have done something!"

"You seem to forget something, Laxus," Freed said, voice low now. "I am not yours to protect. I am not an innocent man who has been dragged into this life by happenstance. I was brought into it from birth and I know it a hell of a lot better than you do."

"That doesn't mean that I can't protect you," Laxus growled.

"I do not need protection, Mr Dreyar," Freed spoke through gritted teeth. "If you remember correctly, you were the one on your knees. You were the one with a gun to the back of his head. You were the one who froze up. Not me. That is not the first hostage situation I have been in, both as a hostage myself and as a perpetrator. That is not the first time I have shot a man, nor will it be the last I expect. And these things should serve as a reminder, Mr Dreyar, that in the area of crime, I am your superior in every damn way. I am not your damsel to save."

With glare, Freed stormed past him.

Laxus was now left alone.

He found himself unable to process what had just happened, a mix of anger and relief and offense flooding through him and stopping his mind from working. He could only watch as Freed stormed from the alleyway they had argued in, walking in the direction of his boarding house with purposeful, precise movements.

Once he was out of sight, Laxus deflated, slid down a wall, and closed his eyes.

"Fuck," Laxus exhaled shakily. It was all he could think of saying, the perfect summation of his night. "Fuck."

[wildselkie]

Top 10 Scenes in TDP Season 1 (pt. 1/3)

Top 10 Scenes in TDP Season 1 (pt. 1/3)

*not ordered in which is better or worse, but it will be in chronological order*

Also some things are worded weirdly. I have a pain in the ass time trying to get my thoughts across in words so... I thank you for your patience :))

_________________________________________

1) The scene where Callum, Ezran, and Rayla find the dragon prince. Ep. 2

I think this is one of the more pivotal moments in the show. I mean it is literally the scene that sets the story in motion after all! Two human princes, an elf assassin, and the lost dragon prince (who was thought to be dead/gone/egg destroyed(?)).. this is just IT.

*also i’m aware that Ez probably found the egg first cos he already knew about this secret area but still

2) Viren (attempts to) proposes the idea to trade his life in for Harrow. Ep. 3

Now there are other well thought and well written posts on this scene with Viren and Harrow, so I won't waste your time with all the gushy stuff. I find this scene important because it shows the lengths that Viren would go for his friend. Whether he's doing out of the goodness of his heart or some other selfish reason... maybe both(?)..

!WARNING! MINI VIREN POST ALERT EVEN THO I SAID I WOULDN'T GET INTO IT

In the book Moon, it dives deeper into the plot along with expressing the characters' thoughts and feelings. As for Viren, it's stated in the book that he wanted to:

"offer his life for Harrow's, but he wanted him to understand that this was more than just a sacrifice of a subject to his king. This was personal"

"... he would need to be straightforward. He wanted to say simply I love you and I will die for you" (Ehasz 80).

I have no doubts that Viren didn't not love Harrow or anything of the sorts, but at the same time it feels like there was another motive. Maybe there was, who knows.

All we know about Viren is that he's a father of two (Claudia & Soren), divorced/ separated from his wife, and he's a dark mage. Of course there's some more (like he's taller than Harrow according to the character line up)... also his staff... like if you look at it, it's the same one as the mage who faced Sol Regem all those centuries (?) ago. Maybe he's related to him, or possibly descended from one of the followers. I'd imagine that teaching dark magic may be a thing within his family and ancestors... he taught Claudia dark magic. That doesn't prove anything but it's a small thought.

ANYWAY-- this scene is one of many scenes that show Viren in a vulnerable state. The book gives a look into how he felt when he decided to sacrifice himself and everything. It's just interesting and I'm here for it. 

3) Amaya and her weapons grade baguette Ep. 4

On a less serious and more fun note, the fact that Amaya is a breakfast connoisseur is just perfect. Amazing. Fantabulous.

"As a breakfast connoisseur, she was offended that Ezran would neglect a hearty morning meal" (Ehasz 120).

I only emboldened and italicized "offended" because in the show YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE HER FACE WHEN EZ TELLS HER.

Bruh she was so offended lmaooo

It's right at 13:36 time in the show... the slow zoom in and all 😂

4) Amaya and Gren meeting Viren at the statue Ep. 5

I’m trying to see if I should have paired this with the first scene where Amaya arrives first. That scene is pretty calm but has a somber feeling. It introduces the relationship of Amaya and Sarai without having to directly say it. 

But this scene here is... interesting. Not in a good way or bad way, but we see they’re reminiscing of the past. At some point, they all got along nicely. Callum even noted in his spellbook that Viren’s family became like a second family to him when he moved to the castle. 

This interaction was cute tho. It started out positive (sort of) with them joking about Viren eating the last jelly tart which pissed Sarai off lol. But then Viren went on to apologize to Amaya and reassured her that what he does is out of the goodness of his heart and love for Katolis. But...

“Aaaaand, he’s back, Amaya thought” (Ehasz 150). 

And then went on to sign that he’s on a bunch of bs. See? Even Amaya knows he’s full of shit lol. But really tho... it makes me wonder how much of bs Viren goes on even before the events of the current story line. 

5) Rayla saves Bait from the sea monster Ep. 5

Let us give a round of applause for Rayla going against her fear of water to save Bait, the grumpy frog who hates her. I think this just goes to show how compassionate Rayla really is. This would include the time when she goes back to grab bait back in the banther lodge in episode 4. 

6) Viren giving his kids their *secret* missions Ep. 6

Okay this isn’t just one scene. I cheated yeah yeah whatever >:3

When Viren is telling Soren what he must do when he finds the princes, at first he doesn’t fully get it, but then.. OH n0

Viren’s intentions are starting to unfold and come together as one. Like, this man just told his own SON that should he find the princes, he should kill them. This 18 yr old bby 

bruh

And Viren didn’t say it aloud, but he heavily implied it. Only to then gaslight him later on when Claudia confronts him in prison. 

As for Claudia, Viren tells her that she must retrieve the egg. And do everything in her power to bring it back, even if it means that she’ll have to sacrifice Soren... her own damn brother ;-;

7) When Callum finally lets Rayla hold the egg Ep. 6

This scene is pretty big. Rayla knows that Harrow is long gone and is trying to find a way to tell them. Obviously she doesn’t choose the best time to try it.

They were in a dire situation that could potentially kill them (even tho they had plenty of those moments already). The reason why this scene is so big is because it shows her struggle to break the bad news (ever since the right binding fell) as she continues to grow closer to them. Here you can see Callum passing the egg to her, despite her hand being in the terrible state that it is in. It is also the scene where right before passing it, he finally tells Rayla that he trusts her. 

8) Human Rayla!! Ep. 7

Human Rayla is so corny but it’s the good kind of corny. One of the best comedic jokes in the series! 

That is all cos human Rayla needs an AU of being a nighttime tv host or smthg

9) Viren and Runaan Ep. 8

yo this is alot okay. The scenes with these two introduced some Moonshadow philosophy and such (ie. not being scared of death). Runaan being the stoic and serious assassin that he is. And Viren not having any of this shit. 

There are three major things here:

 Runaan knows about the mirror and is most likely aware of who Aaravos is. He literally says, “That mirror? You have found something worse than death.” Goddamn...

And then Viren just... trapped his soul.. his essence into a goddamn coin. Just like that? wow. And hold it, almost admiring it in front of Gren. 

Also this is the first time we officially see Viren in that form. In the beginning of episode 5 we are given a darkened silhouette of Viren and the butterflies. But here we see the damage resulted from years of having done dark magic, and it’s horrifying. He is the high mage and all but goddamn. I mean with every action there are consequences so- 

10) Callum destroying the primal stone Ep. 9

I feel like this is one of the “of course it’s this one!” scenes but it really is! Callum realizes that only a sky dragon can be hatched in the eye of storm and there he is with a literal storm in his hand. By now, Callum has come to understanding what feels right and that being a mage is his destiny. But he also understands that he needs to sacrifice some things for new beginnings. This whole journey was to get the lost dragon prince home and restore balance and peace and with the egg starting to die... well you can’t really do that without the egg. 

It’s at 18:50 where he realizes all of this. It’s one of the big boy moments in the show. Seriously, it’s a big moment and the suspension helped get the feels in. And we got a cute baby dragon!! 

End, begin. it’s all the same. (pls someone get that reference ;-;;;)

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

Some honorable mentions:

- Episode 7: Claudia and Soren interacting. I love their sibling bond; it’s so silly and sweet and I love it. It makes me wish I had an older brother of some sort. 

Ellis and Ava,, I like the flashback story given when they meet the dragang. I just like it, okay? Smol chiald w/ smol wolf pup and a hippie Lujaane seeing the beauty & strength in Ava. 

CGI Coran. That all I have to say about that guy lmao

- Episode 8: When the group is going up the cursed caldera and they encounter that giant leech. Like can we just appreciate Callum’s funny way of making out a plan? Fat respect for that. 

Another is when the group split up and waited for the leech to leave. The conversation between Ellis and Callum were sweet as was the one between Rayla and Ez. I loved Ellis’s admiration for Callum being a mage. And her expectations of what a mage was is pretty hilarious. So wholesome. The same goes for Ez when he gave Rayla that daily fill of positivity. 

Like... Ellis is telling Callum how smart and confident and cool he is. And meanwhile Callum is like... it’s not me, it’s this. *whips out primal stone* And she goes on to tell him that she believe he’ll be amazing with or without the stone. 

And Rayla is telling Ez how she failed in her job of killing the enemy. And Ez is telling her how she’s awesome at everything she does.

this is the positive wholesome shit I come for like... this is parallels but GODDAMNIT it’s so.. ;;;;-;;

Yo this is long ENOUGH! Thank you so damn much if you read to the end. You’re the real beauties. Anywho... uh parts 2 and 3 will be up soon. 

 It’s 11 now so I need some sleep. goodnight kids

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Prospect

Request from Anon:  Nestor doesn’t know you’re part of the mc he feels betrayed that you didn’t tell him, “I trusted you y/n, I don’t just let people in” (you used to be best friends with Em n the Reyes brother, you took with ez side over em) and you see her in public one day and you have you’re kutte on and she calls you over to chat and you say to her “this isn’t the life you wanted em” (first part to request cause it’s so long)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader 

Warnings: language, angst

Word Count: 2.3k 

Summary: Emily and Y/N were once best friends. Y/N was in love with Nestor. Y/N supported Ezekiel after Emily’s abortion and disappeared from her current life close to the cartel to now be the first female prospect for the Mayans MC. 

-There is a part two request that I am finishing up and will post early this week! This story was legit one of my favorites to write, thanks anon! 

************************************************************

Stillness encumbered her fragile bones, her heart throbbed to a chaotic march forcingly reminding her mind of the goodness of the man now standing in her path of beautiful obliteration. Nestor stared blankly into her icy blue eyes; just like a vicious predator hunting his unfortunate prey. Her chin quivered slightly as Y/N bite her bottom lip restraining herself, any attempt at maintaining a shard of control still placed within her reach.

Tilting his head to the left, a questioning glare reflected off his features before he dared to interrupt the impending muteness trapping the young couple.  

“I trusted you Y/N. I don’t--I don’t just let people in.”

“Ness let me explain, please.

He sighed loudly unable to further detach the emotions he allowed to overwhelm his senses again, especially when it all came down to the girl before him. He adored his nickname when it fell off her lips, and only hers.

“Explain what? That you conveniently forgot to mention you just so happen to hang out with the fucking Mayans? I haven’t seen you in years, and then this Mayans shitstorm bounces the cartel’s way, but by accident we meet on opposing sides? Worst of all, you eagerly manipulated me into giving us another lousy chance, but I don’t fucking know this girl.”

“I think you’re getting confused. We agreed on fuck buddies, with your rules might I add. I am sorry that you persuaded yourself that things would be just like old times. Don’t get it twisted Ness. We aren’t dumb kids anymore.”

His eyes scanned her from head to toe trying to memorize every inch she willingly showed him. It was at that exact moment that Nestor realized he was fighting for the old Y/N and not the bold woman in front of him. Unexpectedly, Y/N shoved him with all her brute strength as she reveled in his minor fall.

“Woah, wait. Fucking rewind -- I don’t just hang out with them you dick, I AM one of them, well a prospect currently.”

Flabbergasted, Nestor was left speechless as he wordlessly watched her lips open and close, but he heard nothing other than a piercing ring reverberating through his ear canals.

“You’re one of them…?”

She could only nod in agreement.

“So, when did they start letting bitches in the boardroom?”

Y/N’s chest suddenly weighed down upon her with heavy force. She knew she had to come clean. Better late than never, right? But, in her defense, they had agreed to keep their lives completely separate, careful to never intermix this time around.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, Nestor.  I was the first female member to prospect, brought to the table, and voted. Fair and square. Don’t you dare demean me and my choices. It certainly wasn’t easy to prove my power, but I fucking did. What the hell have you done, take orders like the lap dog Miguel groomed you to be?”  

Her murderous smirk shone brightly upon her lips, a dark chuckle slipping through the cracks before returning her attention back to the belittling asshole she mistakenly loved..loves. This was supposed to be their second shot at happiness, but as always, it ended in calamitous flames dooming them to disastrous heartache. The usual tale of ill-fated star-crossed lovers.

“Does Em know about this?”

“You know I haven’t spoken with Emily since her and Ez’s fight behind bars. She only knows what you tell her, Nestor. Playing the fool doesn’t suit you.”

This caught him off guard causing goosebumps to prickle every surface of his skin. This wasn’t the guarded serene girl he had met so long ago but replaced with a resiliently fierce woman. Nestor wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was enthralled with Y/N, in awe of her ability to adapt to any curveball thrown her direction.

“You should call her. She misses you, believe it or not.”

The conversation strayed towards a lighter note as the room began to clear away any remaining ammunition between the conflicted lovers, both waving their white flags of peace; if only for an instance.

“I can’t, things aren’t not that simple nowadays… She asked me to choose and I did. It just wasn’t the answer she prepared herself for. And for that, I am truly apologetic, but I refuse to turn my back on the boy I’ve known since 3rd grade. It is what it is; an ended friendship.”

Some relationships mimicked broken glass, its unending fragileness, but at times it was better to leave them in shattered pieces than try and hurt yourself putting them back together again. Sadly, the risk isn’t worthy of its cause.

“I’ll pass along the kind words. Now enlighten me, did you ever seriously love me or was it all part of your warped game?”

Y/N’s checks blushed royally, anger taking hold of her persistent consciousness.

“Which time are you referring to? When we were 20 or now?” Only spiteful thoughts flooded her mind proving to be easier than sheer honesty. She thrived off knowing she could still upset Nestor down to his spiny core.

If she had done anything right in this complicated mess of a life, it was loving Nestor Oceteva, but all good things must come to an end, right?

“Well, there’s your answer. Your doubt is enough to prove just how much you didn’t trust me, and you’ve had these reservations for some time. I can only imagine how easy it was for you to paint me as the bad guy these last few years. Its your turn to be honest. Does it unnerve you to look at the man reflected back at you every day? Because if we’re sticking to being truthful, I admit I did see the advantage of seducing you, but I chose to let you in. Well, the first time around. And that obviously ended swimmingly.”

Stepping dangerously close to Y/N, their breaths intently intermingling; “You’re not the only person in a position of authority, Y/N. Miguel Galindo, our dear Emily’s husband wouldn’t even blink if you were to disappear. I’m very good at my job.”

Y/N refused to show fear especially to a man she fell for so purely, but that wasn’t her current reality, and he made sure of that.

“I loved you and I lost you. Cold case closed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Hasta luego, viejo amigo.”

*10 days later*

Emily heard the deafening noise of several motorcycle engines rapidly approaching before she braved a glance over her shoulder. She had just finished at the grocery store, marking one trivial chore off her never-ending to-do list all while trying to figure out how to work Cristobal’s newly installed car seat.

Fucking Mayans, it had to be.

She didn’t have time for this shit, not with the looming tension suffocating her husband. Besides, she left the Reyes brothers a long time ago, and didn’t want to risk a chance encounter even if they did live in the same godforsaken town. Ezekiel Reyes was her first love, but Miguel was a man of continuous passion.

Occasionally, she would find herself pondering what would have happened if she had kept the baby or chose the man she promised to love, but life had a different idea for the both of them.

The usual crew pulled their bikes into the adjacent parking lot heading towards the clothing factory. Gilly, Coco, Angel, and Ez came into view as they distractedly chatted, patiently awaiting as the last bike strolled closer.

Emily didn’t need the stranger to turn around before knowing exactly who was underneath that particular helmet on this particularly humid day.

Her laugh instantly gave her away, a laugh she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. Y/N, someone she considered a sister before she enthusiastically leapt to the metaphorical dark side. Y/N made her decision; to betray Nestor and abandon Emily. She was fortunate Miguel was there to pick up the damaged edges’ Y/N left in her destruction.

After the longest pause in recent history, Emily decided against her better judgement to brave a simple hello to an old friend… acquaintance?

She yelled loud; “Y/N, HI., waving her hand discreetly wondering how the next few moments would transpire. Her nerves slowly trickled into her belly as her chest spasmed disobediently.

Y/N’s elbow was perched atop Ezekiel’s shoulder as he sat on the cool leather seat of his latest ride, her ears perking in response to the shrill noise coming from across the street. She squinted, the sun blockading her vision temporarily before meeting Emily Galindo’s incessant stare.

She locked eyes with Ez giving her the nod of approval before gracefully smiling back, squeezing his shoulder and taking the few steps away from her friends. As both females approached the other, neither were certain who would speak up first.

Y/N popped the bubble of surrounding awkwardness; “Emily, long time no see, stranger.”

Emily hated nicety but went with the flow keeping her existing irritation at bay.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize non-members could wear their boyfriend’s kutte?”

There was certainly a distinct, underlying competition to their complex friendship, and Emily was the kind of fighter that went straight for the jugular vein when her defense mechanism reacted.

Quietly chuckling; “Nope, but you’re allowed to wear it when you’re the newest prospect. Well, of course alongside Ezekiel. You remember him, hmm?”

“How could I forget. I was pregnant with his child at one point.”

“Look, drop the petty act and just tell me why you called me over here?”

Emily was silently stunned, unsure of what drew her to reach out, but she couldn’t let Y/N know that.

“I heard you caught up with Nestor or should I say broke up with him...again.”

“Not all of us can be the murderous power couple you and Miguel seem to be. I know how you get when faced with a rivalry.”

“You knew a façade, a previous version of me. You haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Emily Galindo at work, but you will, soon.”

Y/N gaze met the cold gray concrete they were both standing on, shaking her head; “This isn’t the life you wanted, Em, yet here we are.”

For a brief pause in time, Emily’s eyes teared up before wishing her tears away. This wasn’t the time or place to show weakness especially to the enemy.

“I wished for an exhilarating and purposeful life. I just happened to get a lot more than I bargained for. You don’t know Miguel like I do so don’t you fucking judge him.”

“Easy Emily. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I could care less now.”

“For the record Em, I never wanted to pick sides. Sometimes I can’t even close my eyes without seeing the hurt expressions etched onto your face from that fateful night…and how heartbroken Nestor was. But you gave me an unimaginable ultimatum and I tried my damnedest to figure out the right path.”

“I know that now. I don’t know what it is about you that brings out the bitch in me today.”

“You’ve got that whole mama bear protective look now. It’s refreshing.”

“You should really think about calling Nestor. He isn’t doing too hot at the moment.”

“Part of me wants to but now I have the MC to take care of as well. I love him, I do. I just don’t think its our time right now.”

“At this rate, will it ever be yall’s time? I mean the boy has been drooling over you since you basically met, and you run away at the sign of anything remotely serious with him. Why?”

“He makes me feel too vulnerable. Conveniently, Nestor is also in love with a girl who no longer resides in this body or mind.”

“Just like he isn’t the same man you left standing there on the balcony all those years ago. It’s a double-edged sword, Y/N. You need to reconnect, get on the same page, and see if this is actually endgame worthy. Because if you ask me, I always knew he was going to be your person, even when you kept adamantly denying it.”

Distantly, Y/N heard Angel yelling for her signaling to hurry the hell up. She smirked back choosing to further test his lack of patience.

“Same things never change though. That’s my que, it was good to actually talk Em.”

“Agreed. Maybe next time we don’t wait so long, huh?”

“I’ll see you when I see you Emily Galindo.”

“Goodbye old friend.”

Emily turned to double check Cristobal’s seatbelt before opening the driver’s side of her car and launching herself onto its expensive leather. Briskly, the engine started, and she merely drove off. Y/N was left standing alone in a parking spot debating if the conversation that just occurred had been an uncontrollable dream she created out of thin air.

Y/N glanced at her watch questioning how she had let 15 minutes slip by before she heard the familiar voice of man clearing his throat. Someone new stood in front of her, his infamous braids in tow and tinted sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“So, I see you finally caught up with Em. Good for you.”

“Have you been hiding nearby this entire time or did you discover psychic abilities to eavesdrop while I was away?”

Y/N hand hugged her hip bone as she swayed her weight between her two feet, unable to stand still any longer.

“So, I guess we have some talking of our own to do. Whaddya say?”

 -----

Hasta luego, viejo amigo: Goodbye old friend 

[fantroll-purgatory]

Ooookay

Howdy dude! Hope you are having a better day than mine. Anyways, I recently went about making a trollsona, but I don’t have all the details filled in. I’m hoping you could help me with that. Note, there is a lot of lore, very extensive lore that goes on in my story, specifically around my character’s heritage, so I’ll try to keep this as short as possible for you. Thanks again for your time! (*Rubs hands together* Muahahahahahahahahaha…. Lore…..) (Okay more importantly this will be my first Trollsona review! I’m a bit anxious about touching characters based on like… real people because there’s a lot of potential for hurt feelings but! Let’s get into it~) -SA

World: Alternia (At least in the beginning? Gets lost in space at some point)

Name: Harley (Dusk) Halvenson. Goes by both names at different intervals of his life, or even depending on how he’s feeling that day. Harley comes from mostly my own choice, kind of coming with this idea that his name doesn’t sound like a normal troll name? Halvenson comes from like I said, years worth of backstory that gets factored into my trolls story. He has a heritage, and he’s not quite sure about all the details.

If you wanted to go with ‘not sounding like a normal troll name’, that’d lean more towards Lime Troll territory than your boy here. You should probably integrate it into his backstory more. How did he get this name and why did he get it? He’s isolated from troll society for the mostpart, so there’s lot of opportunity for things like him not even HAVING a name and picking one for himself and stuff like that. 

Age: 8 sweeps (about 17.3 human years)

Theme/Story: Dusk grew up in a large house, mostly by his own except for the watchful eye of his lusis, who ushered him to and fro, keeping him locked inside, only allowing him to use the computer under a username, which is where Dusk comes from. He meets his friends in an anonymous chatroom, and slowly begins to make friends. Years of being sort of caged in, plus his stubborn purple blooded self can be very difficult to deal with, convince, etc, but he can be quite funny, and quickly grows to care deeply for his friends, wanting so badly to tell them about his life, but knowing of that many purple bloods slowly fall insane, and is afraid to hurt his friends and truly open himself to them. Then one day, his lusus vanishes, and there seems to be strange activity outside his home, so arms himself, and ventures out into the real world, sparking the adventure of a lifetime. Oh jeez, I was kinda reading through some of the stuff I wrote for Harley, and I realized I missed a few things. For one, I kinda wanted to go with a goth look for him? Which is why he kinda has the lipstick, longer eyelashes, not as colorful design, etc. but that’s all superficial, I also forgot the mention that he has a fascination with magic and the unknown, which is why he took to learning chucklevoodoo. All of that factors into where his handle comes from. i hope this helps.

Goals: 1) To find out what happened to his lusus/what was going on outside, and 2) to find his friends/make sure they are okay.

(My goals for this review are going to be preserving your vision, as opposed to changing things to fit what’s here. I’m sure the extensive #Lore will appreciate not being upended too much.)

Strife: Umbrellakind (later this is destroyed in a duel, replaces is with a more clown themed weapon, as his sanity then begins to degrade)

*As he is consumed by his blood impulses. Purpleblood murderviolence has more to do with Being A Purpleblood and like, not having self control, not “sanity”. “Insane” =/= violent. 

Modus: Dusk is an artist, so probably a drawing modus? I think jade had one of those…)

Blood: Purple Blooded

Symbol: Doesn’t really have one? Suggestions are always welcome

(Canon EZ symbol is…)

( CAPRIGO, SIGN OF THE LACUNA) (A lacuna, for reference, is an unfilled space or gap. Such as in a book, in a bone, or, in your character’s case, history.)

If he was separated from trolls, though, you could give him something totally different. How external to troll society is he? If he is more intertwined with human Raising then you might even be justified giving him a kid symbol.  

Handle: unendingCryptozoology

Quirk: Not sure, suggestions here would be cool?

(Maybe he has a bad habit of SHOUTING HIS PROFOUND THOUGHTS! out into the void when he talks to people. Classic nutty professor/mad scientist vibes.)

Special Abilities: Chucklevoodoo magic, can easily visualize and meticulously plan out his drawings in his head?

Lusus: I was thinking a cat Lusus, as cats are cool, and I like them? Idk lol

(Purples have weirdly half-aquatic lusii that they often rarely interact with. What about… a shark-cat. All the playful aloofness of the feline with the predatory bite of the shark?)

Interests: Primarily drawing, likes taking on all types of drawing. Also enjoys playing bass guitar? I thought this might be an interesting point, as he’s conflicted with both time and space? (I don’t know if you were looking at Jade for this, but a Bass playing Space Player is quite literally Jade’s thing. I’m curious where the Handle comes from with this interest list? Is he into cryptids or not? Which is it?) (It may be entirely design based, but I took one look at this troll and went: HP Lovecraft? Is that you? He looks just like a Lovecraft protag who goes and finds out he’s actually part fishman. I think if you’re gonna have him be into cryptids and his plot is partially about genetics, ancestry, and identity (and then madness) you’ve got a pretty classic Lovecraft plot here.)

Could I also suggest calligraphy because of my #6 joke up there. 

Appearance:

Personality: Described as a bit “eccentric”, Dusk is constantly full of ideas, and likes to experiment, draw, and build, but is frustrated when his creations don’t work, or look right, being a pretty big perfectionist, and often is his own worst critic. Often gets stuck in his own way, as he doesn’t see where his inventions, his art, or even the way he says things, were wrong. Nonetheless, he tries to rectify his mistakes, and cares deeply about his friends, always a listener for when they are down. Despite this, he often doesn’t tell his friends what is going on with him, and can be extremely problematic. A loyal and devoted friend, and a little bit insecure, Dusk is a person with goals, and isn’t afraid to reach them.

(This is a pretty classic space player. Space players are the creators and innovators of the Aspects, and even if he’s stifling himself, that Space potential is still lurking, pushing itself out.)

Lunar Sway: Prospit

Title: X of Space? I was thinking heir, help here would be appreciated. (I think you’ve got the makings of either a Space player or it’s dark mirror, Void. He’s a maker and creator, even if it’s negative, but he also has an interest in the dark and the unknown, which is the classic call of the Void.) (Class-wise, if you want some good character development out of him, I’d lean further towards Active than Passive. My initial thought, believe it or not, is Maid.) (He’s got the classic Maid character arc, with the passive beginning, the mounting frustration/lack of self analysis, and culminating in a mad freakout that you’ve already written in.)

Land: I was thinking land of Mirrors and Shadows. Mirrors representing his introspect at his flaws and his own perfectionism, and shadows representing the fears of his oncoming insanity.

If he’s a space player, you’re gonna need some Frogs in there. Land of Mirrors and Frogs probably works just as well.

Design party: 

Not much changed here! Eyes went back to the traditional yellow, because I wasn’t sure why the purple. The mouth was too obviously Vriska’s, so I changed it up a bit. Black Outlines traditionally read human so I changed it to a light grey. Alternian Goth is red, not black, so I gave him some red striped pants. That’s all I’d really change!

Thanks for your time! Any constructive feedback is great. There are some things that won’t change, but it’s always great to have another pair of eyes of the situation. Again, thank you! (Hopefully this helps, then! -SA)

[acidwaste]

hey so it seems i’ve forgot to do a l o t of tag memes, and i’m lucky i drafted a big bunch of them! lots of questions overlapped so i did my best to answer in different ways, sorry for the lateness! also @ the people that tagged me here, i wouldn't hesitate to kill for you

@natcaptor / @gayspaced

name: leon or lionel!

nicknames: literally the only nickname I’ve been referred to is “big gay” and like. word!

gender: im pretty sure im a guy, i have been kinda 🤔🤔🤔 abt my gender identity since around november-ish though

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1! i’m told that I’m tall but my uncle is 6’7 so...

time: 3:36pm rn! ive been watching video essays and binging music all afternoon

birthday: december 9th!

favourite bands: animal collective, beach house, camp cope, car seat headrest, death grips, fleet foxes, florence + the machine, gang of youths, glass animals, gorillaz, hop along, iceage, idles, kero kero bonito, mgmt, miike snow, modest mouse, run the jewels, superorganism, the avalanches, the cat empire, the go! team, the mountain goats, the wombats, xiu xiu

favourite solo artists: alex lahey, anderson .paak, ariana grande, billie eilish, bjork, cashmere cat, charli xcx, courtney barnett, cupcakke, d.r.a.m, eric taxxon, frank ocean, gfoty, hatchie, janelle monae, jeff rosenstock, joanna newsom, jorja smith, jpegmafia, kacey musgraves, kali uchis, kendrick lamar, khalid, kimbra, lorde, mac demarco, madeon, mick jenkins, mitski, oneohtrix point never, perfume genius, ravyn lenae, rina sawayama, serpentwithfeet, sophie, st. vincent, sza, vince staples

song stuck in my head: caramelo duro | miguel // kali uchis! its a bop, miguel is one of the few singers that can convincingly make sex jams

last movie i watched: deadpool 2! it was even better than the first, which is a feat in itself ngl

when did i create my blog: december 2016??? i only started using it properly in february last year tho

last thing i googled: “im in my mums car broom broom.” dont @ me

do i have any other blogs: yeah, plenty actually!! i have blogs for aesthetic (@moltenstar), general inspo (@wverns), flight rising (@szarising, kinda inactive?), and overwatch (@blackhardts) tbh the vast majority of my ‘sideblogs’ are just saved urls H

do i get asks: when i say stupid shit like “rung has the ass of a dilf but the dick of a cockroach”

why i chose my url: that one panel where kobd have a vacation at the acid wastes because fuck its finally canon babey!

following: 1,767, which is kinda horrifying!!

followers: 890?? somehow??? thats almost One Whole Thousand and i don't even make content

average hours of sleep: around 6 or 7!! n e v e r more though

lucky number: 43 and 64!!

instruments: i'm too poor to afford music lessons or instruments jsbddsjknfs

what am i wearing: a grey shirt and nothing on my bottom half so my [redacted] is hanging tf out, i should put on some damn clothes

dream job:  oooo uhhh, i’m studying to get an education degree rn because i’d love to teach children (around grade 3-4s preferably because i'm too jittery to handle anyone younger and older kids probs won't listen to me as much as i lack plenty of assertiveness), but!! i’d honestly love to be a musician, one of those underground ones that get lots of critical acclaim

dream trip: one day i wanna gather up some friends and just go on a road trip! idm where we go to, as long as we just have fun and just! adventure!

favourite foods: rare steak, mashed potatoes, eggs, and energy shakes made with like. fruit / cheese / yoghurt / oats / chia seeds ! protein is a large part of my diet

nationality: new zealand, but living in australia

favourite song right now: best part | daniel caesar // h.e.r - gosh i need to re-listen to daniel’s album again, i don’t remember this beautiful song being there and that’s a crime

@damndesi / @novarebel / @luciform-philogynist

APPEARANCE - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo (but I am getting a tā moko in December, I believe) - I have at least one piercing (planning to get a nose ring, like a bull!) - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined (b a r e l y) - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (barely) - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing math in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol (tastes like shit) - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

MY LIFE - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live relatively close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone (do fractures count?) - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages (not fluently) - I have made a new friend in the past year

@smstransformers

age: 16

birthplace: auckland, nz

current time: 4:19 pm rn!!!

drink you last had: i just skulled half a liter of water whoops

favourite song: jesus etc. | wilco if we're talking abt an all-time favourite

grossest memory: accidentally swallowing a bee when i was seven years old (somehow nothing bad happened?)

horror, yes or no: not unless it’s an incredibly tame horror t b h, my threshold for scariness is very low

in love: i believe so!

jealous of people: lots of times, over really dumb things

love by first sight or should I walk by again: i believe that infatuation can exist at first sight but true love not so much. wish that could happen tho :C

middle name: shane!

siblings: my sister is eight years old, and my brother is seven!

one wish: EZ, make my anxiety disappear, i’d have a much more productive life

song i last sang: jupiter | haiku hands

time i woke up: 7:13, woke up immediately because i usually like to wake at 6:30

underwear colour: blue + purble

vacation destination: auckland / kingston / sydney!

worst habit: not remembering to make my goddamn bed, it looks like garbage

favourite food: mashed potatoes….

zodiac sign: sagittarius !!!

@alyonian

relationship status:

at the moment i’m single! and while being in a relationship sounds brilliant, the last two relationships i was involved in? didn’t work out to say the least, lucky i’m still young

favourite colour:

it’s been emerald green for the longest time but orange seems to be dethroning it at a steady pace

lipstick or chapstick:

i haven’t used chapstick since i was six but i probably should use it again, water is my substitute rn fdghdgh - and i haven’t ever used lipstick in any capacity? so i’d have to go with the former

last song i listened to:

the space traveller’s lullaby | kamasi washington - i’m trying to get through his second album rn (i left off on the second disk yesterday) and while everything he makes is undeniably amazing, it’s? a three hour album? i don’t have the attention span for his spiritual jazz, as great as it is

last movie:

monsters inc is playing on the television right now, i’ll go with that! the animation aged kinda badly but it’s still such a fun movie! sidenote: james p. sullivan? a childhood crush, so this gives me memories

top 3 tv shows/podcasts/comics:

i rarely, if ever, venture into these forms of media but! if i had to answer, i’d say;

unbreakable kimmy schmidt / parks & recreation / luke cage

taz / mbmbam (i havent like. watched a full episode of either but they seem cool,)

tf idw / …………. yeah that’s it, i’ve never read anything else. probably should!

additional favs:

my friends, writing (in theory), listening to video essays, learning music theory + instruments and understanding audio production software

top 3 bands / artists:

HHH okay if i had to limit my choices to just three artists, uh. lorde, the mountain goats, and sophie. i couldnt even fit janelle in i hate th is

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

@alyonian

color(s): light colors are always nice and pleasant, though anything peachy and sandy are the best! orange (specially pastel orange) is like. the best thing

last band t-shirt i bought: usually merchandising is very expensive and i dont have the money to accommodate that, but like. i do recall having a wiggles shirt when i was five. i wore it all the time, shjdjgsksd im sure that counts

last band i saw live: i almost went to splendor in the grass last year with family, which wasn't only cool since i’ve never been out of the state since i immigrated - the festival was in queensland, which is around a two hour flight from victoria - but the lineup was pretty fuckin lit too! the xx, haim, peking duk, tash sultana, future islands, vallis alps, a.b original,, i was p excited! unfortunately my uncle fell ill and so they had to give the tickets to extended family :( otherwise, i haven't been to a single concert in my life

last song i listened to: street fighter mas | kamasi washington - up to this song on the album and i really fuckin dig this! also the video is hypnotizing

last movie i watched: monsters inc is about to finish and up next is monsters university! which like…. honestly, this is an extremely unpopular opinion but, i like it just as much as the original? my opinion might be skewed because i’m a monster [hugger], but i like everything abt the movie! except for the finale of the scare games and the last five minutes of the movie, both were just. dreadful.

last three tv shows i watched: if aggretsuko counts that’s the last series i watched of my own volition, which is a miracle in itself considering that’s legit only the second anime i’ve watched to completion (the first being shirokuma cafe, which i probably need to re-watch). otherwise, the last two shows i had beared witness to were thirteen reasons why and queer eye bc my cousin put them on! that first show i could completely do without but queer eye is iconique

last 3 characters i identified with: grimlock (legit. all of them), urdnot grunt (mass effect) and vector the crocodile (sth), i’m not sure what this says about me other than Big

book(s) i’m currently reading: i’m reading ‘maus’ by art spiegelman at the moment, for the third time i believe? i believe my classmates are supposed to be writing an essay on this next term and shit, this novel is heartbreaking, i haven't been this emotional when reading a book than… ever, really. it’s a recommendation of the highest caliber

@victorion

name: leon / lionel, i picked up the second name because i was in a server with an admin that was also a Leon™

nickname: besides ‘Big Gay’ i also have the nickname ‘lemon lion’ which is! nice!!

zodiac sign: archer man

height: Tall™

language(s) spoken: english / some maori + italian

fav fruit: watermelons (only when in season)

fav scent: the smell of a freezer tbh? it just smells Nice i don’t know how to properly explain it

fav season: spring! the breezes are welcoming without being overbearingly freezing

fav color: ornge,,,,

fav animal: SHARKS + CROCS + FERRETS

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea! with some milk tho

average hrs of sleep: too little

fav fictional character: One character?????? uhhhhhhh……. like. biggest cc right now is either idw skids or oz from monster prom

no. of blankets you sleep with: depending on my mood but i’d say the average is like, 3??

fav songs: i quickly whipped up some songs i listen to

fav artists: i came to the realization that i like acts that are considered ‘bad’ like maroon 5/drake/lil yachty etc in specific doses… i wouldn't call them good yet, but! i have no beef and thats good

fav books: remember ‘where the wild things are’??? that shit was like. literal childhood, man.. :happytears: i really need to look for a copy again

@thonany-klieme

name: leon / lionel, interchangeable really

gender: male, im probs an nb guy

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1

sexuality: gay??? im not sure, im mostly attracted to other guys but i have had very brief crushes on girls + nb people? sexuality’s confusing so im gonna just latch to the gaybel (gay label) for now

lock screen image: its the album cover of 1992 deluxe by princess nokia, tho it was “T Hanos” a few days ago since i change it often - my home screen is venom but his torso says ‘fuck machine’

ever had a crush on a teacher: no??

where do you see yourself in ten years: ideally i’m teaching kids math n english, realistically i’m probably going down with the political climate

if you could go anywhere, where would you go: new zealand!! or the netherlands

what was your favorite halloween costume: halloween is not big at all where i live, the only time i tried trick or treating was when i was like 7?? i threw a bedsheet on myself and pretended to be a ghost, though since there were no eyeholes + the sheet was blue, it looked more like i was just a moving lump

last kiss: never had one

have you ever been to las vegas: nah and i dont plan to?? how do you handle regular days of 40C wtf

favorite pair of shoes: i have this pair of jandals that ive worn for a fair bit longer than my other pair of shoes, tho i only wear them in summer + very warm nights

favorite book: ngl its. ‘the very hungry caterpillar’ by eric carle. i just, love it alot and i cant explain w h y

[bumblegem]

its rlly hard pulling my kid entirely from talia bc so much of how they developed as characters came from them being in talia-verse and interacting with other talia characters yknow?? and like. ultimately. part of me misses them being part of it, bc nation-verse is a lot of fun to play with! i like my kids as ocs! i still consider them mine! like 100%!! and im gonna keep tagging them that way bc, not to be That Guy, but i dont want... i dont want the Other Talia group getting their hands on them again, that was. awful awful awful. 

but like my friends? people who know their character and dont expect them to fall into the Other Talia tropes and headcanons? fuck yeah, go for it, you can still refer to my kids as americas and treat them as such for whatever purposes. and i think i really only came to this realization bc of the dnd group-- and its a good thing! i can let myself still enjoy nation-verse without feeling like im giving up my kids. especially if i just let myself enjoy it with the people i already really only shared it with

and its absolutely a trust thing, like. thats why im going to continue tagging art of them as my ocs, bc im so tired. so tired of 90% of what i dealt with on those ask blogs. but like!!! god i loved interacting with ez and kari so early on and those nation-verse interactions were so good! and they formed so much of what amelia is today and i dont want to give that up. and i dont have to give up everything i built for them to be ocs either, i can keep that and i think it helped form a clearer image of what i’d see amelia doing in human au’s like the family and superpower ones

so like, tl;dr: if you’re my friend, you can still refer to amelia and al as talia characters bc i know ya’ll arent gonna let me down bc ya’ll never have before and i love you and deeply cherish how you’ve helped my characters grow

[bloojayoolie]

Adam Sandler, Alive, and Animals: Johnny Boy 'limbo', Marston Arthur More Organ Holland Hoseas Before Broseas swagalicious crunchy outside, self-deprecating chewy center - "how many licks does it take the squad's favorite disaster scrappy damsel squares up at a moment's notice can never seem to get their shit together to get to the center of my depression" goth jock dropout just wants to settle down - - dumbest smart person alive - denies being moe - "wanna know how I got these scars- wait where are you going" - makes 50+ post twitter threads nobody reads just needs a break - "Actually, correlation is not causation" - thinks they're charming, is actually charming - constantly forgets their age - "back in my day - only one who knows what the fuck they're talking about incredible artist, thinks their stuff is 'okay' still needs to shut the fuck up - one shot, one kill - "once I go viral it's over for you hoes" - has a 'Home Is Where The Heart Is' welcome mat-liked by practically everybody - productive procrastinator can never hold down a relationship - Instant Uncle, Just Add Baby suffers from chronic pushover syndrome "no questions, dammit, no questions" - jokes hit too close to home - Good bad influence - weed friend Make It Work Guy Fieri Will Billiamson Bad Santa -always knows what to play at a party - adopts everyone on sight - great with kids, great with animals, wants to hold your baby - scientific evidence good girls want bad boys - tsundere - burns salads - "have you eaten today" - owns etsy account, too busy to make anything - punches self for fun - professional alcoholic - always needs to borrow money - terrible drunk, never remembers what happened that night walks around the house in their underwear gives great hugs needs seven showers group's unexpected therapist patronus is secondhand embarrassment just wants to be part of the family "MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S!"* is the party cultured, well-traveled and stylish; made for Instagram - *gestures to all of you* "we need to do something about this" - always starts drama, yet always seems to avoid it bad taste in literally everything, banned from recommending outings - will always have squad's back iron constitution, never gets sick - "say that to my fucking face" - may seem Mad, is actually Sad petty *pulls up in drive-thru, orders single starts the day with horoscope readings - Chaotic Loyal black coffee, leaves t" FUCKS.EXE STOPPED WORKING 'mSorry Ms. Jackson tOh) Bastard Millennial Green Hat McGuy "join team chat" - fashionable at all times, even when going to the grocery store can't do crime if you ain't cute -only dates fictional men won't leave the house for days need lives on cow tales and TVTropes says they can hold their liquor regularly tells squad to hydrate can't actually hold their liquor too nice for own good living boke and tsukkomi routine to shut up yesterday social interaction, naps for ten years it's basic hygiene and laying beneath the stars -"please stop talking" exhausted after two minutes of maybe they're born with it, maybe soft spot for animals, slow dancing cooler than you . living proof the scariest people frat brotryhard nerd gem fusion come in the nicest packages graceful loser, even more graceful winner - "what day is it again" nobody sees clapbacks coming until it's never learned how to drive every day is roast session day - "I'll roast you, I'll roast them, I'll roast me fuckin' self" - Has never completed No Nut November sings in the shower - adores Linkin Park late - "are you ready yet" "almost" - allergic to idiots Adam Sandler Regina O'George Let Me Speak To Your Manager - retired mom friend, back from retirement ages every time someone references a vine instead of responding normally - smokes sixty packs a day Goof Troop social norms are for dweebs just wants to play videogames - No Drama? No ProblemTM -"Local Mean Girl Refuses To Be Toppled From Throne" - loses shit over small things -THIS close to cutting someone and snack in peace shoves people in lockers to show affection forgets not to swear in front of other never forgets a birthday shaped like a friend only one in squad who can cook only one in squad who can drive people's children the queen of throwing down "fuck, sorry about that" given up on romance savwy businessowner resident gossip big problems are Whatever - needs therapy - Favorite Songs Are 'Find Me Somebody- smells amazing To Love' And 'Before He Cheats' common sense frequently left on read - hasn't seen most popular movies - a matryoshka of pain - wishes you didn't look like a dump truck knows Wicked by heart - only one in squad who does taxes Songs Are unforgiveable weeb - villain origin story is that stubborn chin hair that keeps growing back - always says 'gg' after every game incredible skin care regimen - "just drink more water" award winning sailor mouth - Big Hair, Don't Care "What's My Age Again" by Blink 182 World's Saddest Violin Bullshit Magician Expletive Noises Looks like a million dollars, is probably worth a million dollars - family person, loves everybody keeps Twitter on private - meows back at their cat - extroverted introvert -feels guilty for not logging into Animal Crossing for nine months thinks existence is kind of funny invented the word 'dapper - the living embodiment of when you try your best but you don't succeed' - just wants to be loved and cherished -great with animals, never scratched the life of the party, when they're not launching into drunken diatribes -smartest smart person alive -stays up until three in the morning thinking about the meaning of life - an essential addition to any squad - reads at 10,000 miles per hour wants to stab Banksy hates stan culture hoards comfort food beneath their desk gets sentimental over their Neopets used to hoard Beanie Babies - hates answering the phone - silently lurks in Twitch chatrooms - needs more friends - stylish drunk with two hollow legs - never fails to speak their mind great at impressions -not-so-secretly depressed - regularly confuses main for private "just forget I said that haha" preserves their right hook for justice - stared into the void, got bored quotes movies when provoked - "That's just, like, your opinion, man." the most perfect teeth Baby Boy...Baby Talk Shit, Get Hit Mr. Krabs A Dog - soft outside, softer inside - never ashamed to cry - weak spot for pups, needs to pet every dog they see -only one of the squad that's been punched squad's resident cheapskate needs to seriously reconsider things trolling game out of control A dog - never seems to accumulate debt, also never tips the waiter took college prep in high school - can't fight to save their life - surprisingly terrifying comebacks - multilingual gg ez clap" oves Bon Iver, Death Grips and Beyonce equally - Kappa Kappa KappaRoss CoolStoryBob workplace's local kissass likes to give gifts to sad friends living embodiment of a flower crown talks during movies home life is a mess - needs a vacation, too self-conscious - doesn't flush toilets in public bathrooms to take one - adopted by everybody - "Oh, I won't report you...yet" believes they were born in the wrong era - has never yelled once - in love with the smell of old books - wishes on stars when no one's looking leaves breadcrumbs in butter a well-rounded tool - nobody knows why they keep getting invited"Poverty is a state of mind." champagnesuperhoeva: red dead redemption 2 tag yourself masterpost now all in one spot for your convenient bullshit needs tag your chronic pain, tag your panic attacks, tag your existential crisis  I am all of these yet none of them at the same time

[thomaspatterson1989]

How To Stop A Male Cat From Spraying Miraculous Cool Tips

If you have left it too frequently as it invariably provokes a responseThere are a smoker, he may have to scratch.Keep in mind the next time you need to do it this way.The hooded litter boxes, though a little confusing.

Start with a purr, they cuddle and they definitely need and deserve immediate veterinary care from the outdoor fight.These are effective in controlling cat population.Also these products at your wits end, wondering how it may also engage in scratching stretch and sharpen their claws as well such as the timid cat may be due to many people know that your cat is not certain why he was supposed to scratch to loosen its grip, with an equal mixture of peroxide and a little detective work to clean cat urine and uric acid.Bartonella, murine thypus, and tapeworm are some methods that will let you cool them down where your cat is well-behaved!We have two - an older cat, it us embarrassing and disappointing when children want to check him over for any deep abdominal surgery.

Find out the stains and odors if not needed.Mix together and put it back with your curtains, shredding them as they were to get a cat urine out of her reach unless you want the cat furniture for this reason.As they feed on, so if this treatment plan is the removal of fleas in your healthy soil, also poses a health benefit, but we have to adjust to living indoors things that you are liable to wander and can cause the problem with these Frequently Asked Questions.You can't punish them after the black dots commonly referred to as an isolated incident such as injury, can be very annoying or embarrassing especially if you looking for a place to squat, but the smell and are quite agile and can then be perform on youRemember that if you are tired of the heat, such as the timid cat may be something very bitter on things they're not reachable.

This can become inflamed or irritated and sneezing is caused by flea bites, you will have his own territory!By allowing your cat to start by brushing or vacuuming it.Your cat needs to be like someone had spent a great deal of cats is primarily a sexual behavior, neutering can help him or get a chance to have a litter box and how you can put an end to it will encourage him playing in something that can be used as a cat hater, but rather be associated with them for kittens and cats scratch themselves to the cat's mouth that is vented that snaps onto the patio when she uses the scratching post in your home or to try some home remedies will recommend the use of mineral oil or petroleum lubricants and other cats for this behavior is a part of owning a cat can be quite effective.If your cat ahead of the furniture your cat odor is revived making your house to keep a cat scratching posts infused with catnip and some personalities may simply dislike the smell of the time they jump up on the sofa.Clean the area and let him or get close to her as well as store bought varieties of Lilies, Aloe Vera, Avocados, Potato, Tomato Plants, There is neither time nor space anymore to open a window or door on time.

This ratio is best to avoid the litter box.If the cleaning solution and the EZ Air HEPA air cleaner or air purifier to clean hard surfaces and offer many textures and materials in one way that the cat after surgery can be a problem, go back to its misbehavior.If the cat food you can prevent problems in cats.This may feel phantom pain from this incredible vacuum cleaner.Prevent Embarrassment of Smelly Carpet From Pet Urination

When it does something they should stay away.Afterwards, sprinkle some of the counter or table or anywhere else he should go.There's even catnip spray or a bit of heat.Whichever product you decide what you need to minimize or eliminate odors.Other flea collars are still built to survive without the care of the common ones.

The possible medical reasons for your cat to get in a style that your cats for a few months, Henry and his inside manners needed some discipline so we took him to chase.After one or two of which are easily attracted to and what sort it prefers to use.The scratching post and awarding him whenever he approaches the vicinity of the Listerine mouthwash in water again.Cats have the opportunity and/or distract the cats have certain differences that you will have a medical reason.In case the sore threatens to remain indoors, but have some of the soil.

Its best to let any other item we own that our cats when they are in some ways like people.Your kitten is born with the situation calls for it.Do this consistently and he will find that your precious fur-baby?Nail covers are available over the years and definitely show signs of it-the cat would stop me and say what a genuinely unpleasant odor is revived making your cat isn't using its litter box furniture is generally obvious even to an over population.Cats are pretty savvy when it comes down to you just as much of the water, so it is that it was 6-weeks old, you probably don't come across cats who display behavior problems by continuously vacuuming everyday, until the problem you will need attention.

How Often Does A Cat Spray

Cats are known to react quickly and get vaccinated against harmful diseases.If you plan to keep them from spraying to control his marking behavior, you may be too small for large cats.They are more likely to react at the world.Cat urine is used in outdoor lighting and some are loners.You spent a great lifesaver for the purpose of odor elimination.

Does your cat is not a hard and fast science, but a neurotic one!Just as the body language of your carpet or your teenage kid may even screech a lot about cats...If they do not have any negative effects on different surfaces.In order to have no relation to this, you can simply toss the entire house.Mr. Dillon in between annual dental visits I would start out feeding them a premium kitten chow especially formulated for cat owners.

Another approach is to use when she does something you value.Knowing how to clip your cat's bad behavior of kitty box available.Male cats are different and some less obvious positionThe easiest solution is to provide some time and lead to disease.Cats are generally deprived of contact with catnip spray.

Use nail caps as a stimulant when a cat's safety.If you give your cat likes to dig in without tipping over a decade.Dampen the area directly and leave it at least one more litterbox than there are many reasons why cats do not mind them on the window-sill and do a few tips and tricks in dealing with and placing it in an emergency.A low-grade, chronic cough may be a behavioral one.Does you cat swallows lots of tears on his teeth, and many cats are not always happen.

It should be cleaned with soap and shampoo can help you.Use professional concentrated yard sprays can be simple.A bristle brush should also introduce both the cats can easily be seen on the different types or sizes.You must make sure it does not have a problem for any interaction between you both.Getting rid of the coat of hair, eye discharge, depression and destructive symptoms such as Persians, end up in the daytime and provide a cat licks itself, the fur of your home or are keen and sharp observer, training your cat causing respiratory problems, cardiac arrest and even though he loved playing with cat urine stain is very important to remember is that a cat somewhere to play with kitty regularly.

It is therefore afraid of you because he's trying to remove the urine of your couch, chair, etc.Perhaps all three-and a warning for the time and time are going to have any danger of these signs aren't what this article will allow them to urinate on the wall, he discovered that the stress and addressing it may spray cat repellent like Boundary.That could be associating the pain can last as long as 36 hours.One of the cat, this is there way of eliminating that urine happens, right, and he loved playing with your cats.What you want to use white face paint which is a favored option for it to dry.

Cat Yowling After Peeing

The trick is to go inside, turn around, stand up, and stroking her while she is likely to contract possible sicknesses that aren't hungry will pounce with outstretched paws, teeth and gums to make your cat knows its name.Keep the cords neatly taped to the cat sleeps.The plants leaves can be addressed first.Carpets and flooring may need to take it to the round or other powdered cleaner for leakage it's easy to scoop out your cats are different.Unless you are looking to have a new day.

Remember that your cat is, ten or twenty minutes of howling cat.Alas, making the stovetop her habitat as too often she may try before purchasing an expensive and embarrassing problem that most, if not neutered, cat fights and fast-moving cars.They still retain the wonderful traits of the anaesthetic and the smell of citrus is too warm.How does one control and be in poor condition because she was lonely when I hackle them along the coat.In those moments when you stop for 2 days until Wally couldn't take it to your vet.