#she cries when we come back and absolutely attached herself to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bornspellcaster · 2 years ago

Text

Little Firefly - Chapter 4

(When the time pool closes before she reaches it and Luz finds herself hopelessly stuck in ancient times, an incident forces her to work together with her enemy to ensure their survival. In the midst of it, Luz learns there may be more than meets the eye to the frigid Puritan, and discovers the real secret to saving The Boiling Isles may just lie in reuniting an estranged family…)

Chapter 4 - Heartfelt Calligraphy

Chapter Index

“Philip what aren’t you telling us?” Luz demanded. “How can you understand a palisman? Why is she here?”

“Why do you even have a palisman?” Eclipse quirked up an eyebrow. “Aren’t ya human?”

”Philip please listen to me!”

“Why are you haunting me so? What do you even want from me?”

“I need to talk to you!” Arakate pleaded with her wielder, but stubborn as ever, Philip jammed his hands over his ears in desperation.

“Philip please-“

“No!” The cacophony of anxious voices demanding answers or pleas to talk to him were threatening to push him into a panic attack. “Nothing you say will make me come home!”

“Caleb’s alive.”

And with those words spoken, Philip felt his world tilt on its axis. His body did too, faltering, and he barely managed to keep himself upright, only succeeding by shakily grabbing a tree for leverage. “No……no, he’s not,” he stammered in low and shaking denial. “I stabbed him. I saw it. I-I saw what I did.”

“You did…but it wasn’t as severe as we thought. You got him in the ribs. It…punctured a lung, but with a lot of rehabilitation-“

“Stop talking .” Philip’s voice was trembling, but the children were just perplexed.

Suddenly Luz remembered the projection from her echo mouse. A silhouette of a thin staff. An arachnid held at the top. “Wait, I’ve seen her before! It really is your palisman, what??”

“No, no it isn’t.” Philip kept trying to press onward, kept trying to press his hands desperately over his ears to drown out the voices tearing into his skull, but it was useless. Arakate’s voice echoed in his skull, attached to his brain like a parasite sucking away his sanity. “And you are LYING, YOU DISGUSTING TERMITE!”

“Philip, you thought you killed him? Is that why you never came home?” Arakate’s voice had dipped sympathetically and he hated her all the more for it.

Luz was piecing more together and she couldn’t believe the results of the puzzle. Witches couldn’t just understand a palisman on a whim. They had to be connected! “You’re a witch??”

“I’m not, and Caleb is DEAD! HE’S DEAD, ARAKATE!” Philip shrieked. Eclipse’s silhouette ducked nervously behind Luz, shadow fingers gripping onto her shoulders.

“Philip he’s not dead! He’s okay! We’ve been searching for you for years! Evelyn-“

“DON’T MENTION HER NAME TO ME! THAT HARLOT TRIED TO KILL ME!”

“Buddy is absolutely wackadoodle,” Eclipse whispered, but Luz felt a growing alarm by the near manic look on the man’s face. She swore she could see the strings of sanity snapping like stale rubber bands as the denial slipped further and further away.

“Philip, she never meant to try and kill you! She only meant it as a warning shot! She’s been searching with Caleb—we’ve all been searching all this time!”

“Shut up.” There was something very dangerous in Philip’s voice now. His back was turned but bristled and rigid and Luz saw his hands trembling.

“Please come home with me!” the spider persisted in desperate chitters that neither bewildered children could understand. “ We want you home! I know things went bad and we all wish it never happened, but Caleb never meant to neglect-“

“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Arakate wasn’t quick enough to evade what came next and Luz wasn’t quick enough to stop it. Philip’s arm swung back around with a malevolent swing and connected so hard against the spider it slung her into the base of the tree, shooting her like a bullet.

The arachnid nearly engraved into the tree, sticking against the bark for a moment before weakly tumbling down into Luz’s open hands.

“Arakate!” she cried, examining the spider over with Eclipse. The palisman gave a pained chitter and lifted her head reassuringly to Luz. It did nothing to quell either child’s horror or disgust. Luz fell deathly silent while Eclipse's shadow whirled angrily to Philip.

“Big bully!”

“Say another word and I’ll toss that pathetic little cobblestone you live in, into the BOILING SEA!” Philip spat with such vitriol it was fearsome.

Luz still hadn’t turned, hadn’t said a word even as she heard a tearless sniffle come from Eclipse. She pressed Arakate comfortingly to her chest and felt hot tears come to her eyes. “You…” Her voice trembled with ill concealed rage, a knot of anger holding her voice hostage. “You are such a…. a…”

“A what, Luz?” Philip sneered back as he tried to hide the fact that his breathing wasn’t quite steady. “Do try to be creative this time.”

“A LET DOWN!” she finally roared. Neither spoke for a moment and all that could be heard was the wind in the air. No one paid heed to the darkening sky. The man’s sneer slowly faltered in confusion.

“…What are you talking about?”

Luz staggered to her feet, still tightly hugging Arakate to her chest as her other hand placed absently but protectively on Eclipse’s shoulder. “A let down, Philip Wittebane,” she sneered. She felt such a strange sting of betrayal. “I mean….I thought we’d be friends.” She spoke in a strange, low voice. “When I met you I was so….excited! At first, you were everything I thought you’d be.”

Philip didn’t answer. He hadn’t thought much of the girl and her ‘aunt’ at first, even as she’d spoken of knowing him. He hadn’t questioned what she’d meant by it, past experience just preparing to be gawked at. Nettled. Abused.

“When I showed you the light glyph, and you’d gotten so happy looking, and excited and was shocked I relied on glyphs too, I felt… a strange solidarity. And I realized…” She sniffled and she felt so embarrassed by the tears. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry! Seeing them however, he didn’t have that usual smug smirk. He looked away.

“I realized that even though the human realm isn’t really what feels like home anymore, I don’t know…. It was nice to talk to another human. Other than talking to my Mama through a friggin…cube thingy I’ve been here without a door for a while. And…when I found out about you, and knew you were a human that was stuck here too, I could relate to you! I didn’t feel so alone about it! I found your journal and…I was excited!” Her voice cracked. “I felt a kinship! I thought you were cool and I imagined meeting you! I thought we could share our knowledge about magic…” She sniffled. “And….geek about this world together! I thought we could be friends…”

Philip swallowed hard and the ever impassive glacial stare he always had was starting to break. A rumble rolled across the clouds above, but neither seemed to notice. “Guys…” Eclipse began as his eyes slowly drifted up.

“And then it turns out…” Luz’s face twisted up into an ugly, tearful sneer. Bitter. Hateful. Betrayed. How laughable. She felt betrayed by her own false preconceived notions.

“You’re not cool. You’re not nice. You’re just bad. A pathetic bad guy that sacrifices others for his own selfish gain and takes whatever chance he can get to be mean to me. You have no regard for anyone’s lives or feelings! And you've built this entire narrative in your head that witches are evil, just so you can have something to not feel so empty! But you are empty! And…cruel! I don’t know why it seems you had a palisman because you never should have!” Luz went on, unleashing all of her pent up anger, bitterness, and resentment in one verbal onslaught. “I bet you abused her too and she ran away from you! EVERYONE SHOULD!”

Once again all was silent. He was silent. Slowly that fire returned once more in his eyes as his face began to contort. The corners of his mouth trembled as he swallowed and was visibly having a hard time speaking. Luz felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind sweeping their bodies.

“GUYS…” Eclipse warned again, louder, as his shadow spotted illuminated clouds in the distance.

“….Did you ever think,” he began, his voice shaking so badly it was barely intelligible. “…That perhaps I had a different experience, Luz?” He stepped threateningly closer to her and Luz’s hand hovered to her pocket just in case she needed to pull out an emergency glyph.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe things didn’t go for me the way they did for you, Luz?! Maybe I tried, Luz! Maybe I tried to fit in! Maybe I tried to be ‘nice!’ Maybe I tried to give this life that he fucking LEFT ME FOR, a chance!!”

Luz’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off with a tone so sharp it could have sliced the air around them. The utter grief it emanated was soul piercing.

“The proof is in your hands, Luz!” he laughed, almost manically, and brokenly. “I had a palisman! I tried! I tried to see what he did! I almost could, sometimes! But at the end of it all, it was still the life he chose instead of a life with me! That at the end of the day he chose her instead of me! That at the end of the day, I didn’t have his charisma! I didn’t have his social skills!” He laughed again. It was a watery, choked laugh.

“At the end of the day, I wasn’t him! I wasn’t good enough for anyone! I fit in this fucking world even LESS than in the human world and it’s beat me down JUST AS MUCH! So maybe, just maybe, Luz, I DIDN’T HAVE THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DID!”

His scream was raw with anguish and inches away from her face, close enough she nearly felt the spittle from his tightly bared teeth. His blue eyes were wild and nearly deranged…but lined with tears.

Luz somehow maintained her composure, but it took a few seconds to be able to speak. “…Philip—ah!” A sizzling raindrop fell from the clouds and stung her shoulder. More steaming drops began to hit the ground, and easily burned through the thin fabric of their shirts. “Ah! Oh man, now??” Luz groaned as she almost made the stupid mistake of looking up in instinct. Philip barely even flinched as a drop hit his shoulder. His arm. His head.

“I tried to warn you both!” Eclipse exclaimed. Arakate meanwhile chittered as she climbed out of Luz’s hands and hopped into the air. With a sound that sounded like the soft tinkling of a bell, she materialized into her staff.

“Don’t worry, I got this!” Eclipse declared. His shadow lunged above them and expanded out into a canopy. It was a canopy that blanketed a shadow down on them but other than that, the drops fell right through and onto their prone forms. “Nuts.”

“Ow ow! We need to find shelter!” Luz cried, and she jumped onto the spider’s staff, gathering the celestial’s stone in her other arm. She didn’t really expect she’d have to urge their other companion to hurry up in a burning thunderstorm…but she didn’t feel the shift of his weight. He hadn’t gotten on the staff.

“Philip?” Luz frowned as she glanced behind her and just saw him…standing there, in an almost dissociated state. More and more of his clothes were steaming now, and her eyes widened in alarm. “You’re burning! I’m burning! Let’s GO!” She gave one swift yank and he fell onto the staff, haphazardly gripping it as they started to fly like an arrow through the air, low and under as many trees as possible.

“I see a pretty big tree over there!” Eclipse pointed to one of the larger trees in the forest, which seemed to have a thankfully deep hollow. It was deep enough that they could comfortably squeeze into it until the storm passed, so they flew into it. A tight squeeze, but it was better than nothing.

They tucked into the crevice, and Luz pulled out several light glyphs. Floating, bright little orbs illuminated their small shelter to reveal every ring of the tree and patches of blue fungus and moss.

“Ughhh…if I was out of this dumb rock I could literally push away those clouds! Guess we gotta wait it out,” Eclipse sighed in annoyance.

Philip didn’t respond. He didn’t even react when his spider comfortingly crawled up onto his shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek. He was drawn up quietly with Caleb’s jacket wrapped tightly around him, and his arms around his knees. His eyes were heavy with depression….and defeat. It was a disconcerting sight…and she didn’t like it.

I…broke him. Why did she feel so guilty? He deserved to be yelled at, he deserved to be put in his place. Yet...

“….Do you want to talk about it?” Luz finally asked gently.

He didn’t answer for about a solid minute. “I…” Philip’s voice had lost the superiority he always tried to hide behind. Luz knew it was always a facade but only now was she realizing just how fragile of a facade it had been. “…I don’t know how.”

“…You can start anywhere,” she encouraged with a soft smile. “Seems…there’s a lot you’ve had bottled up, huh?” He didn’t respond, but the crease of his eyebrows said it all. “…Why don’t you tell me about her?” She gestured her head over to Arakate, who was busily nuzzling the man’s face.

After a moment, Philip tried to weakly rebuild the ice around his heart as a hand pushed her off his shoulder. To his credit, it was barely more than a nudge. “It’s nothing. She’s just a spider. She’s just a palisman.”

“But you can understand her,” Luz pressed, wondering again what the soft chitters of the spider meant. Bless her little soul, despite such callous and cruel treatment, she was still trying to comfort him. “I’m sure you know that….you can’t just understand a palisman all willy nilly. You two are connected.”

He petulantly tried to turn away from them, and he tried to tune them out with the rhythmic pelting of rain, but it was useless. “Why does it matter?” he finally asked quietly. His voice was quiet. It was empty and yet lamenting. “Why do you care?” he tried to snap, hoping if he was cruel enough she would stop nettling him and lose that look of sympathy. He hated it. He wanted her annoyance back and her hatred. At least that didn’t make him want to fall into the temptation of actually trusting someone again.

“Well…” Luz sighed and tried for a wayward smile. “We have time to kill and I hate awkward silences,” she tried to joke. Her smile fell. “…And because I think you’re in a lot of pain, and…maybe I can help.”

He laughed bitterly. “I doubt that.” Luz continued to just look at him, her soft brown eyes piercing into his defense. She silently waited. Eclipse silently waited. Arakate was just nuzzling his leg.

“…I never made Arakate,” he said quietly. “She found me. I think it was about my third month here. I couldn’t shake her, and she just kept following me around even when I told her I didn’t want her. I wanted nothing to do with anything here.” He gave a bitter laugh. “But honestly the company was nice, with Caleb so involved with his new lovely family.” As he mentioned his brother’s name, his voice cracked and trembled.

“Caleb…” Luz stroked her fingers along the spider’s soft and furry back, feeling the exoskeleton underneath. Arakate purred and leaned into the touch. “He was…?”

“My brother,” Philip said hollowly. His mouth trembled and barely turned up at the edges, in sorrowful nostalgia. “My world…and I was sure I was his.” He sighed. “It was just us growing up…and it was supposed to stay that way.” Luz winced internally at the possessive implications there but let him go on.

“We had issues fitting in. Kindness was offered to us by the townspeople, yes….but only if we conformed to their ways of life. Acceptance was highly conditional, to say the least. Consequences were dire if you slipped, and we met them frequently. ….Especially me,” he said softly. “I was the outcast that never knew how to socialize properly. At least, in the ways society deemed to be so.”

He didn’t notice Luz give a quiet gasp, or for her hold on both Arakate, and Eclipse, who had settled in her lap, to tighten. That pang of sorrowful kinship that she was sure he’d squashed, returned.

“We were expected to participate in the town’s practices. The witch hunts. At the very least, everyone was expected to show up for them, and it was considered highly suspicious if you didn’t. Suspicion could be the difference between being bound in the stocks or burned at the stake if they thought you were with them.”

Luz had gone a deathly white and an uncomfortable squirming from Arakate suggested her grip had become far too tight in her distress. This time Philip heard the sucked in gasp of air from his young companion and turned his head. He looked strangely apologetic.

“This is probably a lot to take in. We can stop.”

“…I’m peachy,” the child finally wheezed out. Eclipse nuzzled further into Luz and they looked concerned. “Are humans fireproof?”

“…No, little glow worm, they aren’t,” Luz strained out, forcing a smile for the confused cosmic child’s benefit. She swallowed down acidic bile as she tried not to picture the grisly thoughts in her head. She’d taken history, and she knew about the witch hunts in this time, and the witch hunts that paranoia and racism had sparked throughout the world.

…What was perhaps the worst realization however was that even if witches had likely been victimized in these hunts, she knew about The Boiling Isles and her own realm’s history of intersecting well enough to know that the number of ‘witches’ prosecuted couldn’t possibly have been that many ‘witches’ at all.

…Humans had been burning their own kind. She wondered if Philip had figured that part out yet, and if he hadn’t she wasn’t about to point it out. By the titan, what was left of his sanity wouldn’t survive it. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

“…He was nineteen when he met her. Evelyn.” Philip’s face screwed up in disgust. “She came around a few times. She hid her true hideous form under one of those insidious and cloying stones.”

“Concealment stones?” Luz asked flatly.

“Yes, those,” he huffed. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “She charmed him. She dazzled him with tricks directly against everything we’d been taught.”

“I mean, it didn’t sound like you liked it when you were talking about it,” she pointed out and raised an eyebrow when he faltered a bit. “The witch hunts.”

“I was a six year old watching people be tortured, that was a bit different. The chase itself was exhilarating at first. …At least until you knew what was going to happen to them. O-of course I was ignorant at the time. Obviously the clergy was attempting to purge evil, but at that age it’s just hard to witness that in person.”

Luz’s temper flared but for once she bit back a heated remark. The only reason she did was because she could see a spark of turmoil in his gaze as he spoke such ugly words. It was turmoil that perhaps he didn’t realize. It was a turmoil that strangely, she hadn’t seen from him before.“….Just tell me about Evelyn.” And why did that name really ring a bell…?

“They met a few times in the human world. Apparently she’d come around, I don’t know, scouting out the best victim I guess.” He didn’t miss the way Luz rolled her eyes. “She always tried to talk to me as well but once I knew what she was about I wasn’t falling for it.”

Luz wasn’t sure why again tried reasoning with him right now, but maybe seeing how unsure he’d been when he spoke of the witch hunts before gave her some more confidence. “Did you ever consider maybe Evelyn was trying to be nice to you?”

“No,” he scoffed. “I know she’s always wanted me out of the way.” He wasn’t budging on this hill yet. It seemed he wasn’t as pliable right now as Luz had hoped. “She…took him. He left with her.” His voice cracked and Luz couldn’t help the sympathy she felt. His wide blue eyes that looked to her, so soul crushed, so vulnerable and lost, didn’t help the pity. “Do you have any idea what that’s like, Luz?” he asked softly. “Being…abandoned like that, and having the one person you trusted more than anything, the only person you ever had…walk away from you?”

“…No,” Luz said softly.

“He…” His breathing was struggling to remain steady. “He didn’t even wait until I was an adult to leave me.”

She felt for him, despite her dislike for him. She couldn’t imagine the only one she’d ever known as a parent walking away on her, but part of her wondered if she was getting the full story. Or if perhaps, he was interpreting something wrong. It wasn’t as if she could really trust his judgment on things. What was clear though was he was hurting, and had been hurting for a long time, and…Luz felt bad for him.

“But…you found him again, right? Your story suggests so.”

Sighing, Philip traced a pattern in the damp bark of the tree. “I did, eventually.” He made a face of derision. “I was terrified when I got here, and predictably, I was pushed around about as much as I was in the human world. Things may have changed in your time it sounds, but being a human in this world can be horrible. Even Caleb had to work to gain the respect of the townspeople. Humans are seen as lesser beings by many, due to the lack of natural magical capability.”

Feel like they might also be bitter that if any of their kind did slip to the human realm, they were probably hung or burned… Luz decided to leave that unsaid. “Well actually I was seen as lesser by some, at first.”

“I was pushed around by savages, and by monsters. I knew nothing about this world and found myself in all sorts of horrific situations, but eventually I found a fire glyph when I happened upon…a fire bee hive.”

“Ouch,” Luz winced.

“I was tired of being pushed around and wanted some advantage…and I made a fatal error.” He rolled up his sleeve and Luz let off a sound of repulsed horror. She attempted to keep it discreet so as not to make him even more self conscious. Frankly she didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed before, specifically since the marks were glowing a dim red and orange, like a flicker cast off by a fire.

“Whoa. How’d you get those tattoos?” Eclipse hovered around the man, inspecting the marks. His eyes widened after a moment. “Why would you carve glyphs on your arms??”

“Philip, why did you think that was a good idea??” Luz echoed Eclipse incredulously.

“I was a teenager in what I thought was hell, and I just wanted some sort of means to protect myself! …They act up when I get too stressed sometimes. When you get used to the pain and evening your emotions, it can be more manageable,” He sighed. “And….treating it. I was a novice to the mechanics of this world when I got here, but in retrospect I probably should have considered the ramifications it would have to draw symbols on me that consume all it touches. …I was a bit slow.”

“It took a while to find my brother, and…when I did I discovered the wench….carrying.” He made a face, like the mere mention of her name was some blasphemy to him. “Caleb seemed so happy to see me at first but things were never the same once I found out he’d chosen this wretched place over coming back with me. He…” His voice became smaller again, losing its vice. “…I guess he hated living with me…”

“You chose to stay there? Did you hate living with me that much?” Luz could hear the conversation in her head as easy as she could hear her own mother’s heartbroken sniffle. She felt tears press behind her eyes. “…I’m sure he didn’t,” Luz said softly.

“When it became clear he wouldn’t go back with me, I obviously wasn’t leaving my big brother’s side, not for a second. I didn’t trust him not to get bitten by a bloody basilisk if I didn’t! He encouraged me to try and make some….friends. To try and give this place a chance.”

Philip’s grimy nails dug into the soil and clutched fistfuls of dirt as he let off a frustrated growl. “And I tried to, Luz! I tried, but how could I? How was I supposed to, knowing he chose this place instead of a place with me? Knowing that he left me to that hell—for—for this one!” he spluttered angrily. “And then I come back after my abandonment and I’m expected to just get over it! To just accept the fact he…he had a whole family without me,” he whispered.

“A whole bloody witch family!” he continued with a broken laugh. “I stayed with them for a while. What else could I do? Varuka is The Boiling Isles most powerful healer, supposedly. When Caleb learned of my curse he had her and her daughter Kiki oversee my curse’s outbursts. They tamed them down with powerful soothing spells. The soothing spells used to be enough but…” He sighed. “They’re not anymore.” His nails crumpled the fabric of his sleeves in distress. He strangely looked away from Arakate. “I treated myself shortly before you showed up.”

He tried to ignore the way she nuzzled his leg. He tried to ignore the feeling of comfort hidden deep in the niche of his stony heart. “Arakate…found me when I was off on a walk. She wouldn’t leave me alone! She kept…following me, and talking to me. Caleb was shocked I could understand her, and when I found out the significance of talking to palisman, I was confused myself. I didn’t understand why we supposedly had a ‘connection.’ I didn’t want her.”

His eyebrows creased and the hard line of his mouth softened as he looked at the spider. “…But I felt alone. Caleb promised me when I got here that he’d make up for our lost time and we’d be together more…but of course all he cares about is his pregnant witch fiancé.” He sneered.

“It…all just built up in me. I couldn’t handle it. My brother told me he understood it would take time for me to ‘come around’,” he scoffed. As if he’d planned to at all! “And yet he got impatient that I want nothing to do with this wretched witch family of his. That he LEFT me for! How could anyone expect me to just be okay with it?!” His voice rose in grief. “I mean I find him and he’s started a whole life without me in it! And in a matter of months—I’m supposed to make peace with that?! I’m supposed to make peace with that EVER?!”

The fury of his tone echoed through the wood and rain, and both children were quiet for a moment. “…So what happened after all that?” Luz asked, and she was dreading the answer. “How did you end up out here?”

“…It finally boiled over one day,” he said quietly, swallowing and suppressing a shudder and trying to keep the images at bay. The second worst day of his life. “That wench was about eight months with child, I believe. We argued about it...badly. My curse was flaring up at the time as well. He told me to calm down, but I didn’t want to.”

A moist shine came to his eyes as he clearly struggled back the grief from falling down his face. “I WANTED to be angry. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to be destructive and break things and…” He swallowed. “Hurt. I deserved that! I was blinded by my anger, and felt my curse flaring up but I didn’t care to stop it at the time…and I didn’t think about what it would cost.”

He didn’t look at her. “…I came to my senses too late. The knife was already in him.” He heard Luz gasp in horror. “Evelyn attacked me, and screamed at me to leave. All I saw was him falling to the ground, and all I felt was the pain from her blow.”

“…That’s why I hear you crying about him at night,” Luz finally said quietly, her eyes wide. She didn’t imagine it was this extreme. She tried to find something else to say but it was hard to come up with a response to a near murder confession. The forlorn spider by the man’s side was now nuzzled up against the fabric of his coat. “…Why don’t you go home?”

“I don’t have a portal?” He rolled his eyes to the insufferable question. Luz didn’t dignify the ignorance with acknowledgement.

“To them,” she told him, undaunted as he spun around to stare at her as if she had three heads. “I mean…Arakate is telling you that Caleb survived,” she said gently. “He’s missing you. It’s gotta be scary, I know…” She gave an encouraging smile. “But you have a whole family wa-“

“I do NOT have a family!” the man snapped. “Th-they are not my family! They are simply people I was forced to put up with so I could be with Caleb! They took him from me and then they tried to manipulate me to trust them! And then they hurt me and sent me away!”

“Philip…” Luz knew she was treading dangerous waters here with this, but it was the most vulnerable she’d seen her frosty companion, and she didn’t know when she might get another shot at trying to have a genuine heart to heart. “…Did you ever stop to think that the real source of your hate is…the bias from your pain?”

“What are you talking about?” he growled, half of his face buried within his knees and with reproachful eyes targeting her suspiciously.

“You’re hurting, and you’re….sad,” Luz told him, undeterred by the glare. “And I get it, but you’ve yet to give me an actual reason for why you hate this world beyond feeling betrayed.”

Slowly he turned to her, gawking. “…Luz we’re in a tree hollow to prevent ourselves from burning alive because it’s raining.”

“Okaaay…so the weather can be a bit inconvenient.” Luz gave a casual shrug. Burning rain was barely more than a trivial annoyance to her at this point. Maybe that was a bit of a concern. “But honestly it doesn’t sound like you were too happy in the human realm.”

The severe glare on Philip’s face seemed to fall away, with his shoulders that sagged in defeat. “Maybe I’m not happy anywhere.”

“Well….you’re definitely not happy in a cave,” Luz pointed out softly. “Hiding, and alone.”

His face fell quietly back to rest in his arms, perched over the bumps of his kneecaps. Half lidded eyes gazed uncaringly out at the steam formed by the pelting rain as Arakate continued to chitter noncommittal things to the three of them and sing to the sound of the rain.

“Ya know…a palisman’s form or behaviour can coincide strongly with their wielder’s.” Luz smiled at Philip and inched closer to the man, offering a palm to the inquisitive arachnid to skitter upon. “The connection is based on what the person’s true desire is. What’s your deepest desire, Philip?”

“I want to get out of this place with my brother,” Philip growled.

“I don’t think that’s what you really want. …There’s a heavy prejudice attached to spiders, mainly because of how people are so misinformed of them, and they’re frightened of them based on this prejudice. People see a spider and automatically think they’re going to be attacked, when actually spiders are incredibly docile.”

She rose a brow to Philip and gave a big breath, and one that carried a bit of a teasing smirk. “And they can bite. Man can they ever bite if not handled right. Can even be venomous and deadly. They’re associated pretty well with the ‘villain’ trope in modern day too.” He obviously didn’t understand that reference. “And to top it off, Arakate is a jumping spider! They’re attributed to having some of the highest intelligence in the bug kingdom! They’re one of the only ones to possess a neo cor-“

“OH OH!” Eclipse suddenly piped up, with the loud, unfiltered bluntness of a child. “And some of them are really hairy! Like you!” He poked Philip’s beard, who went scarlet in embarrassment.

Luz blinked and burst out into laughter. “Honestly yeah, you need to shave my guy.” Luz smirked at Philip and after a long moment there was a small and almost shy one from the Wittebane. So minuscule you could easily miss it. It faded just as quickly and he was back to glaring at nothing. Luz decided not to probe further on what he’d told her. Rome wasn’t built all in one night, and working away at the source of this man’s hate would take time….

Arakate was still attempting to coax anything but that downtrodden expression from the man with various nuzzles and chitters and even soothingly pressing her mandibles to his forehead now as she trilled—something that always used to comfort him. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect, but she wasn’t giving up. She lit up with sudden mischief.

“It’s weird you’d have a spider of all things,” Eclipse hummed. His shadow hung from the ceiling of the hollow like a little monkey. “I would assume you’d have like…I don’t know—hey! What’s the grumpiest and biggest buzzkill kind of creature you can have as a palisman?”

And in direct contrast to the entity’s question, both children were blindsided to hear… giggling that burst out of the Wittebane. He was visibly trying to keep it quiet and muffled behind his hands, but Luz and Eclipse watched, baffled as he squirmed and started laughing.

“Hey, where’d our spider pal go?” Eclipse wondered. That’s when they saw not only was he squirming, his jacket seemed to be as well!

“Ph-Philip?” Luz snorted herself into giggles as well, finding his laughter was infectious. She realized this was the first time she’d ever heard his genuine laugh. Not one from mocking her, or a cold chuckle, but actual laughter. It was so bright, goofy and boyish, and free. It renewed her with hope. Seeing him with his palisman filled her with hope…

“STAHAP, YOU BLAHASTED SPIDER!” Philip squealed out, red faced in embarrassment as he finally managed to reach into his shirt and extract a very smug and triumphant looking spider. “You little pest—seriously! After all this time you still go for that?” he asked, incredulous. Arakate chirped and nuzzled her mandibles to Philip’s cheek, and he tried to cover it, but there was another slight smile.

Luz’s mind was alight with the possibilities this new tidbit of information gave her. Philip Wittebane—the grumpy ass snob that had been tormenting her left and right since she got here—was this ticklish? Oh excellent…

“Really? That’s what I could have done every time you annoyed me or were an ass?” Luz teased the crimson and scowling man. “That’s what I can still do, while I have you trapped in this confined space with no escape…?”

“Don’t even think it-“

Luz outstretched her arms and wiggled menacing fingers to psyche him out. The panic on his face just made her burst out laughing, even as his foot lightly kicked her back into a patch of mushrooms. “Sleep with one eye open, Witte-bane of my existence.”

She straightened her posture and grimaced feeling a moist squish of the shrooms touching her legs. The mushrooms were blue with small purple speckles and she coughed on the spores they expelled. “Ugh! That smells like gasoline!”

Philip leaned over curiously to get a good look at the patch. “How curious, I don’t believe I’ve seen those before!” He was quick to whip out his journal and unclamped the leather bindings to flip to a new page.

Luz cleaned the irritating spores off of her khakis and crawled her way over to sit beside him. Closer, he noted, actually. He wasn’t sure if it was the forced proximity of the claustrophobic space, or her tendency for affection.

“Gotta admit, I really envy your writing man,” Luz mused, leaning so far over towards the book that her hair kept falling onto the pages, and his hands. He eventually gave up trying to write through her hair and pestering, sighing and staring upward. “Do you…think you can teach me how to do calligraphy as nicely as that?”

“Is there even a chance you let me get this done anyway?”

“Not a chance, no.”

He rolled his eyes but offered a blank page of paper for the girl and pressed his quill into her hand. With gusto, the child eagerly began to scrawl at the page, and he frowned scoldingly.

“Slow down! Don’t just go at it with abandon and write full words! I mean look at that, a chicken could scratch better with its feet!” he scoffed. Philip blinked when his careless remark seemed to make a deep impact. He saw the flicker of hurt in Luz’s eyes, and for once…an ugly feeling crawled in his gut. It was a look that resonated, one of a child conditioned by years of bullying.

“I’m sorry,” Luz said quietly as she tried to mask her fragile smile. “I was always told in school I had a messy hand and my handwriting wasn’t ‘up to par.’ I’m probably not cut out for this, heh…”

Chewing on his lip, Philip considered a more tactful approach. It certainly wasn’t how Caleb would teach him. “Well…no,” he tried, a bit softer. “You just need to practice some simple strokes to get a feel of it, that’s all. Some curves, some crosses, and some circles. Try those as warm ups.” He put the quill back in her hands, and with a slow smile, Luz took it.

“Put down a hairline. Basically, give me a very, very thin line—no— try again. You’re putting far too much pressure down, and it’s making it too thick.”

Luz nervously repeated what she’d done before, but eased up on the stroke. Philip’s gaze was softer as he observed her, mainly because he could tell he was distressing the poor kid with his expectations.

“…How’s this?” Luz meekly held up a sheet of paper for him to examine. The line was very blobby. He picked up on this and tutted.

“That one isn’t bad, but try again and try to keep a consistent pressure.”

Eclipse hovered above his companions and made a small raspberry sound with his mouth. “Writing stuff sounds boring! It sounds like…school, bleh.” Still, they watched and couldn’t help but find their interest a bit piqued by the gliding strokes through ink. “…Ou, that’s a pretty one!” he praised.

As Philip guided and observed Luz’s work, he felt a strange welling of nostalgia. He remembered sitting at their oak table back at their cabin, his brother perched over his shoulder as he would lovingly instruct an eager six year old on how to write his name, tussling his hair and tickling him now and then to be silly.

Was this what it was like, watching someone flourish under your tutelage?

No one even realized the boiling rain had stopped long ago, or how long they were sitting there, talking and writing through pieces of paper.

“You ready to try some letters then?”

“Yeah!” Luz gushed. She touched the quill back down to the paper, and to her disappointment the ink seemed to bleed together from the pressure she was applying. She was about to apologize , and that’s when Philip reached out. Luz expected him to take the quill in exasperation, but…he didn’t. With one of his laced gloves, Philip took one of her smaller hands in his own to guide the process.

Unlike before, this hand didn’t crackle with flames or shoot out vines or shards of ice. It didn’t squeeze her or tear her collar or throw her to the ground. It didn’t yank her along when she could barely keep up, and it didn’t recoil from her own touch. It was soft, and satin, and it was warm as both of their hands glided along the paper in a much neater line over the margins.

“Can you teach me callig-errfee too?” Eclipse asked hopefully as his shadow squeezed up against Luz.

“You can’t even pick up a quill!” Philip exclaimed.

“Wow, just hit me where it hurts.” Luz however just laughed.

“Well done child. That actually looks like an ‘L’ this time. Not bad, and I didn’t even guide you with that one.”

“Thanks! Ou, I’m gonna try to write your name now!”

“Caleb! Caleb, look! I wrote your name!”

“Hey! Hey that’s pretty good Pip…”

(Wow it looks even longer on tumblr. So much for this chapter being immediate, but in my defence I take a long time to draw. Every chapter will have an illustration from now on, although likely not as detailed because that one took me days. It’ll kinda be like a graphic novel.

And we mark the turning point, or at least the beginning of it. Philip is a stubborn ass, but maybe there’s still hope for him. Maybe Luz can shift something in him still. …Maybe she already has.

I wanted to play a bit on the prejudice that humans might face in The Boiling Isles, because even though I know it served just to show the narrative of ‘witches were always wonderful and Philip was just an evil bigot’, I didn’t like that shallow take and I’m inclined to believe that the humans have not always had an easy time, and basically tackle racism on both sides. Even Luz faced a bit at first, and I mean the line ‘here to gawk? I may not have a bile sac but I do have dignity’ came from somewhere.

Anyway, the next chapter is where things start to get real exciting, and we’ll be meeting the rest of the party soon ;] Hope you’re all prepared, cause Philip won’t be…..)

#toh fanfic #the owl house fanfic #philip wittebane #luz #the collector #AND THIS ONE HAS THE ILLUSTRATION I MADE C:#caleb wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #(verse | little firefly)

43 notes · View notes

winterswhite · 2 years ago

Note

gotta ask, what do you think about the tetonaru dynamic

AH I ALMOST FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS. I was really tired and unwell when I got it and I wanted to write a proper answer so yknow. Hi, now that I can write one:

I absolutely adore the tetonaru dynamic! I got into enstars some time before Beasts first dropped, and back then I hadn't really thought about their dynamic a whole lot (especially bc... I was new to enstars lmao), but when that story first came out I started thinking about how interesting it was to put those two together, as the trans girl (at the time, a question mark) on a journey to self-love and the boy who wants nothing more than to become a man among men. Two people who are seemingly complete opposites in every way, especially in their desires and ideals, coming together at the end of the school year and exploring what it means to be who they are. Seeing Tetora in a skirt and wig I was... definitely shocked? And had no idea what to think of what the story would be like, but I did find it interesting. (continued under cut)

Then eventually, because I couldn't speak Japanese at the time to read it for myself, a translation of the story came out and it quickly became one of my favorite stories ever. I absolutely adore the way it was written and every single development that happened, both between the characters and in the story itself. Like I said before, at the time I wasn't sure whether Arashi was a trans girl or was just a... weird portrayal of an 'effeminate' boy, but this story really cemented that she is a trans girl, and it's the story I use as evidence of it all the time. Seeing Tetora learn about her and realize his mistakes? That was peak! It was also the start of a beautiful dynamic between the two of them, and it's one that I can't imagine going without now.

I just love the way their relationship started out so rough, with Tetora only having a surface-level knowledge of her and using that to praise her, not knowing that he was hurting her instead. In turn, Arashi thought he was annoying, and after being hurt by his words, decided to play a mean-spirited prank on him in return. Tetora may have looked up to her, but it was a misguided admiration, and Arashi wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone. It's a very good representation of their characters in general - Tetora is quick to get attached to people he feels like he can look up to, and Arashi has struggled consistently with acting unfairly towards others based on her own personal annoyance etc. But then, things happened, and their relationship changed; they both had realizations about themselves and each other.

Madara told Tetora that Arashi is trans, and he realized how much he had been hurting her by calling her manly without even intending to, and he regretted his actions so much that he cried - something we never ever see him do otherwise - when apologizing to her. Even though he says he doesn't fully understand the way she feels, the way it is to be trans, he's still willing to respect and support her. He still sees her as the woman she is, and later refers to her as such when talking to Midori in the epilogue.

Arashi, on the other hand, thinks she may have put him in real danger by having him dress up as a girl, and then realizes how mean her prank was. When he apologizes so sincerely, even prostrating on the ground in dogeza, she realizes that he really meant no harm and was just being earnest. She gets upset at herself for being so mean, but forgives him for what he did, and it's a lesson in... not assuming the worst from others? Which is also really important imo, especially for Arashi, who always has. She even thinks she's just as bad as the people who have always hurt her for doing what she did.

The way their friendship has developed since that story is so special to me. Tetora saying he wants to embrace the more 'girly' parts of himself and that those can be manly strengths too is so important! And in the same way, he talks about wanting to turn his perceived weaknesses into strengths. Arashi, on the other hand, learned to love and accept both herself and others more, and again, not to assume malice where it may just be ignorance.

They both help each other improve as people and just... have become so important to each other? And that's so important to me. Watching them become such good friends, Tetora really respecting and treating Arashi like a girl and Arashi being respectful of Tetora's own wishes (he's one of the few people her age or younger that she doesn't use -chan for! Because he's expressed discomfort with it!), and the two of them hanging out together to do all sorts of things is just so cute and sweet to me. The fact that they became roommates in !! era was a dream come true for me. They both learn so much together and from each other, and their friendship is so cute.

I love seeing them do cute things together, seeing Arashi get Tetora modeling work, seeing Arashi teach Tetora about fashion and skincare (things he hadn't paid much attention to before, but now he's become so good at? He helped design the outfits for Nekketsu☆Ryusei Ninpouchou, he made suggestions for Kanata's second personalized outfit, Midori has commented on how fashionable he's gotten and several characters have commented on the condition of his skin and his use of perfumes), seeing them go shopping for accessories together (Tetora's recent 4* story destroyed me, hence the translation), seeing both of them think about and admire each other's growth... it's just been such good development for them, both as individuals and together.

Their friendship is just... so special to me. It's a story of forgiveness, of acceptance, of self-love, of respect for yourself and others, of realizing your mistakes and bettering yourself from them, of watching each other grow, and it's just plain cute. TetoNaru are just so so special to me. I don't think I even did it justice in all the words I've written here lmao. I apologize for the rant but I really care about them so much >.<

#an rambles: enstars!#tetora nagumo #arashi narukami #ask #anonymous

12 notes · View notes

midasgutz · 1 year ago

Text

i love shirogane takeru hell arc. and i love what it does to him. and frankly i found him kind of likeable even back in extra. but like god... the hell arc. Hell on Takeru Technique.

like. he goes there to escape from the sudden harsh awakening to the dangers of this war torn, battered and beaten alternate reality. and not only that but the finality of it. he goes, and who does he meet but the face of his sweet, caring teacher. in this world, almost a completely different person. in extra she canonically has a crush on him. in unlimited, he was picked to pieces by her and pushed to the brink every day until suddenly it was all useless. in alternative, she’s the face of death. his death. the death of his happy world. he sobs into her, apologizing over and over. and the next day, he awakes to screaming. on the news he hears about it. about how she was pushed face first into one of those machines that eat anything you see in videos chewing up whole engines, entire pieces of furniture... just whatever. you can only imagine the mess, but he knows EXACTLY what it would look like. it looks like exactly what he ran here to escape. in disbelief he runs to the school to find yuko, the mastermind of the otherworld. the one person council in control of his fate. and she tells him HE did this, it’s HIS fault. for being a fucking coward and running from his problems. he brought this event back over with him. marimo jinguuji has her head broken open like a melon. the information is attached to takeru and he brings it over. and this isn’t even close to all of it. she goes on to tell him how his presence here is allowing memories to leak out into the ether of the other world, with no one to attach to. and the people affected by this? the people he cares about most. for a moment it seems like sumika is immune, but later he visits her room. and he sees journals, pieces of paper, crude drawings. everywhere. his entire life from sumikas perspective laid out in front of him. by this point meiya has no idea what she was even doing living in his house in the first place. as quickly as it popped up the mansion she built attached to his house just disappears. the only member of her entourage who can even remember it all is tsukuyomi, herself a completely different person in the other world. what at this point must feel like the real world. mana tsukuyomi, the loyal attendant can only apologize to him. how could she hope to understand what just happened to meiya? it’s like the soul has flown out of her body, one moment she’s who she is and another she’s just someone else. at the height of his despair he goes back to the school, his one last place. to say goodbye to yuko, the yuko of this world. the only one who can at least understand the depth of the sins he committed in coming there. that’s when it’s revealed. sumika, the love of his life, the person for whom he can accept no replacement, absolutely ravaged by the same phenomenon that took his teacher away from him for the second time. i feel like his screams may have been voice acted. but the absolute horror, the hole in his heart, i can only imagine the sounds that would come out of me. and they are pathetic. wailing, weeping, sobbing like a child. and he thinks he cant go back. he asks yuko to help him kill himself, and while they’re literally driving to go execute him she reveals herself as the god damn monster she’s always been. i can send you back, shirogane. i can put you back in that hell, i can save you from this one. he cries like a child and begs for the opportunity. she tells him he might even be able to undo what he has done in coming to the happy world that he’s now ruined. they break into a power plant and send him back. from then on he’s a different character, with only glimpses of the person we knew for easily 60 hours up to this point.

like, everyone will mention that things get heavy later on in muvluv. but nothing really prepares you for the massively abrupt shift. she’s just there one second and the next, this grotesque image. one of the first times you actually see the beta really clearly if i remember right, and it’s just... gnawing on her face. in the middle of what was almost a really sweet moment. following this he’s drugged, hypnotized, confined, interrogated. the works. it’s not long before he runs away. and you can understand the impulse. because the whole time it really was just fun and games... until.

0 notes

rowenabean · 2 years ago

Text

Part 3! In which we actually do some real medicine

(some)

It took Larissa a full minute to process. Dr Faustus hadn’t noticed at all, and was still fiddling with his quasi-medical concoction to her side; the nurses and paramedics were occupied on the other side of the room; and Larissa was the only one to notice when she breathed once, and breathed twice, out of sync with the rest of the room, and then stopped.

Larissa took a breath, and screamed.

(She was embarrassed about that later. Emergency bells exist for a reason, and it hadn’t even occurred to her that she could press it. I think we should forgive her, since no one knows how they’re going to react under pressure. And more importantly, since it worked.)

It worked. For a moment, everyone was focussed on Larissa, except for Dr Faustus, who had produced a brass straw and was gently huffing on something through it. She took a breath, and reminded herself she wanted the attention.

“This one’s... stopped breathing? I need some help here?”

She was deeply grateful to the ICU registrar, who immediately shunted her aside to start CPR. This had been a depely weird day, and she had started to distrust her instincts. In any other situation, she would have known to start CPR herself, but then in any other situation they would have been working on resuscitating all ten people in the room, and apparently no one else thought they needed to do that. So – while CPR was approximately her least favourite thing – it was still a relief to have something she thought she knew turn out to be actually true.

She let handsome-ICU-man take over at the patient’s head, where she was standing, and took her turn doing chest compressions. The room wasn’t really large enough for all the people and paraphernalia of resuscitation, and Dr Faustus was staying absolutely still where he was and forcing everyone else to move around him.

“We’re keeping her alive!” ICU had said, trying to make room around him.

“Yeah? Well I’m saving her life,” Dr Faustus replied, and that was that.

On the third time Larissa cycled into performing chest compressions, Dr Faustus stepped into action. The nurse had just brought a defibrillator in from the main emergency department next door, but he wouldn’t let her attach the pads to the patient. Instead, he laid one hand on the patient’s chest, coated in a sticky substance that Larissa was almost certain contained blood, and a second hand on her left side, where the defibrillator pads would go. She stepped back at his order, and a loud crack ripped through the room.

“Ah!” Dr Faustus cried. “I have it!”

“Pulse check!” ICU barked, and one of the nurses reached down.

“We have a pulse!” she cried, and the tension palpably left the room. Several of the nurses peeled off, back to where Marie was working, and the remaining team switched from emergency mode into post-resuscitation mode, which consisted largely of placing a frankly incredible number of lines and tubes around every part of the patient, while Dr Faustus muttered to himself over to one side. Larinda strained to hear him.

“Too soon,” he was muttering. “It worked, but too soon. Tricky, tying in a self-destruct clause. Hmm.” He looked up, and saw her. “Larinda! Help me to the next one.”

“Larissa,” she said under her breath. “All right, coming.”

Larissa swallowed her squeamishness and followed Dr Faustus to each bedside. Eight times further he applied his sticky blood substance, and eight times he injected some equally unhygienic looking syrup into their veins, and eight times the patients coughed, and spluttered, and started breathing again. Four of them even woke up, although they were fairly groggy and not capable of telling her much about what had happened to them.

And then there was the last patient, the first one she had seen, who after the gruelling morning this had been she only recognised by the shrimps on his socks. (And morning? Was it still morning? With her luck, the canteen would have closed, and she would miss out on lunch to the day. Even as she had the thought, she heard her stomach rumbling.) By the time they reached him, even Larissa had reached a routine. Arrive – potion one – potion two – funny hand waving – wake up, or at least start breathing spontaneously.

And then he didn’t.

Dr Faustus was at least as surprised as she was, and (she suspected) rather offended. He kept trying more and more outlandish strategies to get some kind of response, but no response did he get. By this point, her stomach rumbling was getting louder and louder, and she was relieved when Marie butted in.

“Doctor, I think this might be the index case.”

“Well of course it is, girl! The question is why he isn’t responding!”

“Because it was a very impressive curse caster?” She pulled him away by the sleeve of his robe. “I’m setting a diagnostic in motion, and you’re sitting down to eat. Clearly this isn’t a one-and-done case.”

She winked at Larissa. “Come on. Andrew’s responsibility now,” nodding at the ICU team. “We’ll head up to the Unit after lunch.”

Inspired by @thestuffedalligator 's wonderful post: please enjoy the first installment of the Weird and Wonderfuls Ward: Sleeping Beauty Syndrome!

(I don't know if there will ever be any other installments, but this concept grasped me like a rattlesnake and wouldn't let go. No, I've never been grasped by a rattlesnake so I don't actually know what that's like. I feel like I'm only beginning to get to the interesting bits, but I have a low-key migraine and I decided the better part of valour is avoiding being on my computer when I have a migraine.)

“Hi!” the girl in front of Larissa said brightly. “You’re our new intern? Welcome to the Weird and Wonderfuls Ward!”

Larissa blinked. “Uh – I was expecting ward 4?”

“That’s us!” she said. “We just call it that. You know, it takes a lot to be managing some of this stuff, so it’s better to be cheerful about it! I’m the fellow here, we do have a consultant but he’s in and out so mostly it’ll be just you and me. Marie. Where have you come from?”

Larissa seized on the last question with the grasp of a drowning man.

“Just been on general surgery. It was my first run, so medicine is all brand new! Hoping it’ll be a bit of a change of pace.”

Marie squinted. “That’s optimistic? Dr Faustus should be in this morning, so we’ll see. Good luck? Probably best to grab the notes now, he moves pretty fast.”

“Ah – yes!” Larissa gulped. “Where are they?” She looked around. This wasn’t at all like the previous wards she’d worked on. For a start, she’d had to come underground to get here, which was the first time she thought she might have taken a wrong turning. She’d been expecting the tunnel to pop back up to the surface, but it had merely kept going down until she felt like she might be in some kind of wartime bunker. For some reason, there were still windows in some of the walls, but they looked out on excavated earth around 10cm from the glass, which did nothing to help her discomfort. This room appeared to be the nurses station, and it did have the classic whiteboard bearing patient details, but beside each name was a collection of sigils that bore no resemblance to the terms she’d learned in medical school.

At the back of the room she located a stack of binders. The first one had a name on the front, and she flipped open to reveal the first page. Yes, that was their ID details, and it looked like there were clinical notes behind her. Upstairs they had moved to computers, but the hospital she’d trained at had paper notes, and this looked sufficiently familiar to work with. She went to close the notes, but stopped as something caught her eye. Why was there a space for “species” on the registration form? And what the hell was a trow?

A door slammed behind her, and Larissa turned with a squeak. A dark-haired man had entered the room, his face narrow and tapering to a pointed chin with a small tuft of black beard. He wore a pair of tiny round glasses perched on his aquiline nose, and a long dark gown in place of her white coat.

“Ah, fresh meat,” he said, and held out a hand with an unpleasant smile. “Dr Faustus.”

Larissa concentrated on keeping poise, but her hand still trembled as she held it out to shake. “Larissa. I believe I’m your new house officer?” Her voice cracked on the question. “Marie was just – introducing me to the ward?”

He nodded curtly. “Hand me your pager,” he said.

Larissa slipped it from her belt and passed it over, confused. Dr Faustus passed his hand over it in a complicated motion, then handed it back. “There you are. That should be more useful now.” He turned and walked out the door without further comment. Larissa blinked after him stupidly. It wasn’t until Marie hissed “Ward round!” that Larissa gathered herself and the teetering stack of patient notes – seriously, computer was much more convenient – and followed him out the door.

The ward round was an uncomfortable flashback to her first day as a surgical house officer, straight from medical school. With a stack of a dozen folders to sort, it often took her several minutes to find the correct patient, by which point Dr Faustus was walking out of the patient cubicle and expected her to be ready to see the next. She tried to at least write down the diagnosis, but that was a flurry of half-understood words in itself – “bog-standard lycanthropy,” he said at one, “full moon’s tomorrow so just make sure he’s somewhere safe,” and then the next was “that’s a simple curse, just send down the curse-breakers and they’ll have her on her feet in no time.” The only case she recognised was the second to last. Dr Faustus stoped in front of the patient and talked for a minute, then turned to the nurse manager in disgust.

“This one’s just Lyme disease. Why is she here? Get her back upstairs.”

The patient behind him tried to say something, but she was cut off by his protests, as was the nurse manager.

“Not everything weird is us, you know. This isn’t supernatural at all. Those general physicians, trying to get out of their responsibilities. I don’t want to see her here when I come back.”

Marie poked Larissa quietly. “That’s you, you know. You’ll have to call upstairs to make it happen.”

At the end of the ward round, Dr Faustus stalked away upstairs, and Larissa sat down with relief. She still had no idea what was happening, but at least she had a moment to figure it out. Her list of jobs was intense – beginning with “write down nine tenths of the ward round notes” and leading through such gems as “figure out who the curse-breakers are” and “where do we find a silver pentangle” to “try and persuade the physicians they want to listen to a lowly house officer about taking over a patient,” but she’d done this before, she reminded herself. It wasn’t like the surgeons hadn’t made her work above her pay grade at times.

Marie disappeared at some point while Larissa was still sorting out the notes. She hunted around the ward for a bit, and eventually managed to find a nurse who might be able to help her figure out what was going on.

The nurse was called Joseph. He was a slightly-built younger man, wearing the standard hospital nursing uniform, apart from one thing: he had no shoes. Instead, his legs protruding from the sensible polyester trousers ended in goats hooves. They made a faint clopping sound as he walked, like the finer grade of court heels that Larissa had long-since decided to avoid in the echoing hospital corridors.

He ran over her list with a practiced eye. “Curse-breaker’s easy – they’ll be here for MDT anyway in an hour – ah yes, I’ll show you were we keep the silver items. That werewolf’s just staying till the full moon and then going home? Ok, we’ll pop him down the end, there’s a single room he should enjoy in the daytime, and it’s not like the moonlight gets down here. Best part of the location. You’ll have to figure out the physicians yourself, I’m afraid, I try not to go upstairs. It’s a whole hassle putting the concealment spells on my feet.”

By mid-morning, Larissa had moved the patient with Lyme disease upstairs – her one triumph, in that it was the only thing she managed to achieve on her own – and had found the silver gear. Marie eventually returned, and she managed to corner her to show her what to actually do with it – “they don’t teach this any more in medical school?” and they took it down to that patient, who was screaming in pain. The touch of the silver left a faint burn mark – although it was neither hot nor cold – but the pain left her, and Marie pronounced her cured. Or rather, exorcised. Larissa completed her discharge paperwork, and was just starting to feel on top of things when her pager rang.

It took her a moment to realise it was the pager. Whatever Dr Faustus had done to it, it wasn’t beeping in the usual way; instead, a squeaky voice said “Emergency! Emergency! Your presence required! Emergency!” and then was interrupted by Dr Faustus himself.

“Incoming patients in ED. Spell gone wrong - looks like a sleeping beauty situation. There’s at least ten victims in transit at the moment, likely there's more we can't find yet. All hands needed in ED.”

Larissa looked down at her list. It was starting to look more manageable than it had, but she had been counting on having the rest of the day to get all her paperwork done (even the weird and wonderfuls ward had paperwork), and being on call hadn't entered her radar. She hadn't seen any other doctors down here, though, so maybe it was just the one team. She gulped. What a thought.

Marie started running for ED, and Larissa followed her. It took a while to get there - up and up through the subterranean corridors, and when they rose to ground level they were still on the far side of the hospital - dodging around elderly ladies on walkers and young kids in moonboots, as well as the hordes of doctors going around their own ward rounds upstairs. Marie glimpsed her old surgical team, new intern in tow, but didn't stop the helter-skelter run through the corridors. She sped up next to Marie.

"What's the hurry? What does sleeping beauty mean?"

"Sleeping - beauty," Marie huffed, "patients not - technically - alive. No pulse - not breathing for themselves. One person breathing for them all - if they stop breathing - everyone dies."

Larissa swallowed. "And do they stop breathing?"

“Don’t – know” Marie said. “I’ve only seen a source once. Usually we just see the blast radius.”

“What do you do then?” Larissa asked, then corrected herself. “We. What do we do?”

“If we can – get them breathing – we can get them stable enough to break it. Usually. It’s not an easy one to break.”

They arrived at ED, and Marie led Larissa to the side. There was a curtain there that Larissa had never glanced twice at, and Marie led her behind it. In front of them was a whole second department. It had the same clear-glass cubicles with the same flimsy privacy curtains, and the same air of barely-contained chaos. The similarities ended there. Half the staff were dressed in long robes instead of scrubs, and candles and incense burned around each of the monitors in the staff workstation. She could see more of the sigils from below, and actually recognised a silver pentangle that was a larger counterpart of the one Marie had shown her downstairs. In one corner, a tired-looking paramedic was wheeling in a patient on a stretcher. Even from here she could see that they were uncomfortably blue-tinged, and their chest was rising in a forced, stilted manner, as if they were on a ventilator, even though there was no machine anywhere near their mouth.

#the weird and wonderfuls ward #my writing #apologies for the bit yesterday where i just. didn't finish a sentence. don't know what i was doing there.#i believe this does not have any unfinished sentences but it's not like i've actually edited at all

18 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 3 years ago

Text

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

411 notes · View notes

rae-gar-targaryen · 4 years ago

Text

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oliver here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?" He pressed.

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think of that one?”

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

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

Um, wow.

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

All you could do was nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

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

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Cheeky.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So she knew who you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a hard no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

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

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

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

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

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

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

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

What the fuck.

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

That was you, ever the professional.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

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

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

“Boy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel chuckled a little at that.

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Angelito, everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath was shuddering now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

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

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come on then, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he would, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagging:

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

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

597 notes · View notes

jammatown919 · 3 years ago

Text

Best Laid Plans

Several months ago, an anon asked me to write a piece in which the group tries to play matchmaker for Ruby and Penny. This is what that turned into.

Ruby liked Vacuo better than she'd thought she would. Sure, it was unbearably hot most days and a fair amount of the locals seemed rather disgruntled about having more refugees around, especially Atlesian ones, but she'd take this over Atlas any day.

She was especially relived that she and her group had been allowed to enroll as students at Shade Academy rather than having their Huntsmen licenses renewed. They hadn't been at all ready for the position when General Ironwood had offered it to them, and while there was still a lot to worry about, everyone was glad to have some of the pressure taken off of them. Unfortunately, however, the lowered stress and extra free time had given them an opportunity to concern themselves with things that absolutely did not require their attention, such as Ruby's love life.

Two weeks ago, Ruby had made the horrible mistake of confiding in Yang about her crush on Penny, which had resulted in most of the rest of their friends knowing about it too. Most of them were alright about it, but Yang and Nora were absolutely hellbent on playing matchmaker, and they weren't taking no for an answer.

Every single time one of them caught Ruby alone, they'd plead with her for permission to set up a date so everyone wouldn't have to watch her 'pining' anymore, and no matter how many times she said she didn't want to burden Penny with her feelings, they persisted. Eventually she'd started trying to avoid them altogether, which was a lot easier with Nora than it was with Yang, considering they shared a room.

On their second Friday living at Shade Academy, also the second Friday since Ruby had confided in her sister, Yang found Ruby alone in the dorm and made what felt like her millionth plea of the week.

"For the last time," Ruby snapped, flopping down on her bed. "I don't want you to set up a date! It'll just make everything awkward."

She was trying to keep her cool, but honestly, this was starting to piss her off. This was none of Yang's business, or Nora's for that matter. She didn't need their input.

"Oh, come on, Ruby!" Yang groaned, her voice laced with exasperation. "You have to know she's into you!"

"Give me one good reason to believe she actually likes me back." Ruby retorted, rolling her eyes as Yang let out a dry laugh.

"I'll give you ten reasons," she said confidently. "You two are basically attached at the hip, she gets that little pouty face every time she gets told she can't pair with you for combat training, you literally share a bed-"

"Only because there weren't enough beds when we moved in!" Ruby quickly sat up, warmth rushing to her face.

"Yeah, but when Blake and I starting sharing, I asked Penny if she wanted my old bed and she just about cried." Yang replied. "Unless you want to sit here and argue that all of that is platonic, you know she likes you back. So why won't you just talk to her about it?"

"Look," Ruby sighed. "Even if you're right, I just don't want to give her anything else to worry about. She just lost her home, she's still getting used to being the Winter Maiden, and now she has all this human stuff to deal with. She needs my support right now, and I don't want to accidentally push her away."

Yang's expression softened at that, and she slowly crossed the room to sit down beside Ruby.

"I get that," she said quietly, suddenly much more sympathetic than frustrated. "And I know I'm being kind of pushy, but I don't want you to miss out. This could be your only chance for a while to actually go on dates and have fun with her."

Ruby let out another, heavier sigh and leaned back onto her hands, tilting her face toward the ceiling.

Yang was right. They might have a respite now, but Salem could show up any day. This chance to be students again wasn't going to last forever. They were getting to be kids one last time, and that would be over the moment Salem made herself known again. Then there would be no dates or time to worry about feelings, probably just regrets if she didn't do this now.

"What do I even say to her?" she asked quietly. "I've never liked someone like this before. What if I screw something up?"

"Just be honest with her." Yang put an arm around Ruby's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Tell her how you feel, ask her if she wants to go out, and let Nora and I take care of the rest. We'll find a nice place for you to go, and I'll tell you everything I know about impressing girls."

She winked good-naturedly and released Ruby, who then took a deep breath and stood. She didn't feel even remotely prepared for this, but there was a decent chance it could be now or never.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find her." Ruby decided, steeling herself. She made her way toward the door, giving her sister a nervous grin over her shoulder as she left. "Wish me luck."

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

Ruby found Penny an hour later in Shade's library, sitting at one of the tables with a pile of books. From the looks of it, she'd been here a while, possibly making her way through a series.

"Hey," Ruby said quietly as she reached Penny's table. "What are you reading?"

Penny glanced up, looking mildly startled.

"Oh, it's just a fantasy story," she replied sheepishly, lowering the book in her hands. "It's a bit silly, but I've never had time to just sit and read before. I'm finding it quite enjoyable!"

"That's good." Ruby smiled and took a seat across from Penny, clasping her hands anxiously in her lap. "Sorry if I'm interrupting you or anything, I just wanted to ask you something."

"Of course." Penny put her book down and leaned forward attentively.

"I was just wondering if, um..." Ruby squeezed her fingers, trying to steady her voice long enough to get the question out. "If you wanted to... go out with me sometime? Like, on a date? I-If not, it's totally cool, I just... y'know..."

Penny blinked at her slowly, and Ruby shrank back as much as the chair would allow her to.

"A date?" Penny inquired.

"Yeah," Ruby replied, her face burning. Dear God please let her know what a date is, she thought frantically. "I really like you, like more than just a friend. I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I was scared of making you uncomfortable, but then I realized that with everything going on I might not get another chance for a while, and- Penny?"

Caught up in her rant, it had taken Ruby far to long to realize that Penny wasn't listening to her. Instead, she was just staring blankly, her expression completely unreadable.

"Are you okay?" Ruby leaned across the table and waved her hand in front of Penny's face. "Are you bluescreening?"

Back when she'd had a mechanical body, Penny had occasionally 'bluescreened' when struggling to process some new piece of information. She usually snapped out of it within a few minutes, so Ruby wasn't particularly concerned, but she had to admit she was surprised that Penny was still doing it even in a human body.

"Yes." Penny said suddenly, shaking herself a bit.

"I- what?"

"Yes, I will go on a date with you." Penny clarified, her face turning slightly pink. "I like you too, quite a lot."

"Really?" Ruby's shoulders sagged with relief, and she couldn't help the grin spreading across her face.

"Of course." Penny said with a little smile. "I would have said something much sooner if I had thought you might feel the same way."

"How could I not?" Ruby asked softly. "You're so sweet and beautiful and kind. It was kind of impossible not to fall in love with you."

Penny's blush intensified, and she looked away bashfully.

"You are all of those things too." she replied, her voice quiet and shy.

Ruby chuckled softly, then straightened herself and cleared her throat before either them could get any more flustered.

"So," she went on. "I was thinking maybe we could do dinner tomorrow around six? Or, well, Yang was thinking that, but I have no idea how to plan dates so I'm just listening to what she says."

"That sounds perfect." Penny said enthusiastically.

"Great," Ruby smiled and rose from her seat. "I'll let you get back to your reading. See you tomorrow."

Ruby turned to leave, barely hearing Penny's quiet "Goodnight," as she rushed out of the library. The moment the doors slammed shut behind her, she let out a loud, shaky laugh. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. She'd managed to land herself a date, and now all she had to do was survive it.

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

Penny had to admit, she'd been surprised to hear that her best friend had a crush on her. Delighted, of course, but so very surprised. She'd been planning to keep her own feelings a secret forever, lest Ruby find them unusual or inappropriate, but that was no longer necessary. Ruby shared the same feelings, and apparently they were quite normal.

It was a relief to know that, but Penny couldn't say that all of her anxieties had been quelled. According to Ruby, the next step after confessing their feelings was going on a date together, a concept with which Penny was not particularly familiar. She had a basic idea of how it was supposed to work, but she wasn't sure of the correct way to behave or what she was supposed to say while they were out.

Penny had gone to Nora with these concerns, hoping for some friendly advice, and had been promptly and quite literally dragged into Team JNPR's dorm room for a pre-date pep talk.

"You really don't have all that much to worry about." Nora said as she worked on lacing up the back of Penny's dress. It was quite similar to one she'd worn to Beacon's dance; light green, knee-length, and very soft. She'd borrowed it from an upperclassman named Velvet, who she knew by association due to her team's friendship with Team RWBY.

"But what if I say something wrong?" Penny asked anxiously, running her fingers through her hair. She'd already brushed through it twice, but perhaps one more time couldn't hurt.

"What would you say wrong?" Nora inquired as she finished with the dress. "You two are already friends, so you don't have to deal with any of that 'getting to know each other' business. Just go and have fun. And make sure you laugh at all her jokes."

"All of them?" Penny echoed unenthusiastically. Her sense of humor was quite different from the majority of her friends, and she sometimes had trouble discerning whether something was a joke. How would she know what to laugh at?

"Unless they're offensive or something, but it's Ruby so I doubt that." Nora shrugged and grabbed a bit of Penny's hair, gently fluffing it out. "Think you're ready?"

"Maybe?" Penny replied. "Do I look presentable?"

"You're gorgeous, Pebbles." Nora turned Penny around so they were face to face, placing two firm, comforting hands on her friend's shoulders. "Everything's gonna be fine, okay? You've gone places with Ruby hundreds of times; just act how you normally would."

"Okay." Penny nodded. She could do that.

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

The restaurant Penny had been invited to was a small café hardly a stone's throw from Shade's campus. From what Penny could tell, it seemed to be primarily frequented by the school's students, as the majority of the people sitting in the outdoor area were wearing school uniforms.

Of the three that were not, one was Ruby, clad in a black top and bright red skirt that just barely reached her knees. She spotted Penny from her table near the café's front window and waved her over with a shy smile.

"Hey," she greeted softly as Penny approached. "You look really nice."

"As do you." Penny replied politely, sincerely hoping that the grin on her face didn't look too silly. She stood there awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat, leaning forward so their table's umbrella could better protect her fair skin from the sun.

For a good two minutes, they sat there in silence, Ruby seemingly avoiding eye contact and Penny quietly fidgeting while she tried to think of something to say.

"This place is pretty cool, right?" Ruby offered at last, glancing in Penny's direction.

"I think it's quite hot, actually." Penny replied. Ruby let out a soft chuckle, and she quickly realized her mistake. "Oh! You meant- yes, it's very cool."

Penny briefly averted her gaze as her face grew warm, but she was saved from any further embarrassment by the arrival of a tired-looking waitress.

"Have you two decided on anything?" she asked, placing two glasses of water down on the table. As she did so, she fixed Penny with the same vaguely suspicious look every Atlesian refugee had been receiving from the locals.

It wasn't entirely uncalled for, considering everything her nation had done to theirs, but it made her uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Um..." Penny glanced down at the menu, eager to get the waitress's eyes off of her. Impulsively, she ordered the first thing she saw. "The fried scorpion, please."

"I'll have the same." Ruby said immediately.

"Interesting choice." The waitress remarked as she took their menus. 'For a couple of outsiders' was implied.

Penny watched her walk away, mildly dreading the sight of what she would return with.

"What the hell did we just order?" Ruby mumbled, so softly that Penny couldn't be entirely certain the words were for her.

"It will likely be fine," she answered anyway. "Scorpion is a common dish here."

"Yeah, I guess." Ruby replied, once again avoiding eye contact. Penny's brow furrowed and she leaned a bit closer to her date over the table.

Ruby seemed remarkably uncomfortable, wringing her hands and glancing about as if searching for a way out of the situation. Did she not want to be here? Had Penny done something wrong?

If so, she hadn't the slightest clue what her mistake could have been, but relationships were so complicated that she wouldn't be surprised if she'd broken some unspoken rule. Perhaps she'd missed a joke she was supposed to laugh at, or-

"Penny?"

Penny was jolted out of her thoughts, only just realizing that Ruby was waving a hand in front of her face. She blinked hard, mildly startled.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asked gently.

"Yes," Penny said with a quick nod. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You've got to stop bluescreening on me." Ruby gave her a small, kind smile. "What were you trying to figure out?"

Penny hesitated briefly. She almost didn't want to say it for fear that she might be right. Yet again, if she had somehow messed up the date, she wanted to know what she'd done wrong.

"It's just..." she began eventually. "You seem as if you don't want to be here. I was wondering if maybe I did something wrong? Or if you regret asking me out?"

"Of course not!" Ruby's eyes widened in mild alarm. "What made you think that?"

"You just seem so uncomfortable." For emphasis, Penny mimicked the hand-wringing motion Ruby had been doing. "I was worried you thought this was a mistake."

"God, no," Ruby reached across the table and gently took Penny's hands in her own. "You didn't do anything wrong, Penny. Asking you out was not a mistake."

She brushed her thumbs along the backs of Penny's hands; an intimate gesture, if Penny remembered correctly.

"I think letting someone else plan this for us might have been a mistake, though." Ruby admitted. "I don't think I'm really a dinner date person."

"What do you mean?" Penny inquired.

"I mean this all feels a little... stuffy, I guess." Ruby shrugged. "I don't like sitting here in formalwear trying to make awkward conversation with a bunch of other people around. This doesn't feel like us, y'know?"

"I think I understand." Penny nodded slowly. She had to admit, this wouldn't have been her first choice of venue either. "What do you think would feel like us?"

"Do you remember that night with the fireflies?" Ruby asked. Penny nodded again, a small smile spreading across her face. "That felt like us. It was just you and me having fun, enjoying nature and stuff."

"That was a very special night," Penny agreed fondly. "But I do not believe we would be able to recreate it here. As far as I know, no species of a firefly is native to Vacuo."

"It doesn't have to be exactly the same." Ruby seemed thoughtful for a moment, quietly drumming her fingers on the table. "What if we went up on the roof of Shade's dorms? We could be alone and just enjoy each other's company."

"I like the sound of that." Penny almost stood up, but suddenly remembered that they'd already ordered. Would it be considered rude to leave?

"It's alright," Ruby seemed to read Penny's mind as she rose from her seat. "I don't think it counts as dining and dashing if we haven't gotten our food yet."

Penny supposed that made sense. She hesitated a moment longer before standing up, glad that she wouldn't have to see that waitress again. Ruby extended her arm, and Penny linked it with her own as they began walking away from the restaurant. As soon as they'd cleared the tables, Ruby visibly relaxed.

"This already feels better," she remarked.

"It does." Penny agreed. They walked together in silence for a few minutes, Penny's face growing warm as an unfamiliar sensation spread throughout her body.

Suddenly overtaken with boldness, Penny leaned over and pressed her lips to Ruby's cheek, holding them there for a moment before slowly pulling away. Ruby's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't seem at all bothered.

"Was that... okay?"

"It was more than okay," Ruby replied, glancing over at Penny with a smile. "That was perfect."

"It seems our night has been salvaged." Penny smiled back at her, faltering briefly as Ruby rested her head on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she said, her warm breath tickling the skin of Penny's neck. "It has."

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider reblogging to share it with others and help the post gain a bit of traction! It would absolutely make my day and make the three months I spent trying to finish this feel worth it!

#rwby #penny polendina #ruby rose #nuts n dolts #nuts and dolts #catch me begging for reblogs at the end of every post lmao

199 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 3 years ago

Text

Parents

Jiang Cheng is still panting heavily when he goes to check if they really did kill the yao, but when he turns slightly to make a joke at Nie Mingjue, his husband is nowhere to be seen.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng yells out and he doesn’t want to admit it, but fear grips his heart.

The last moments of the fight were pretty hectic and rough; what if something happened to Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng didn’t notice it?

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng yells again, louder this time, when no answer comes and he goes back to where he thinks he saw Nie Mingjue last.

“Shush, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue scolds him out of the blue and Jiang Cheng follows his voice into one of the many destroyed houses around the place.

The did not lose the whole village to the yao; these are long abandoned houses they simply found the yao at and so Jiang Cheng frowns.

“What’s going on?” he asks, carefully stepping into one of the destroyed houses but he comes to an abrupt stop when he sees what Nie Mingjue is holding.

“Is that a baby?” Jiang Cheng breathes out and is at Nie Mingjue’s side a moment later.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue says, even though it’s pretty obvious that the squirming and clearly upset bundle in his arms is a human baby.

“What happened?” Jiang Cheng demands to know and steps closer to check the baby over.

“I don’t know. She made a sound and when I came in here, I found her all naked on the ground, not even crying. I hope she’s okay.”

Now that Nie Mingjue said it Jiang Cheng realizes that he cut his own robes to dress her, and the act just makes him love Nie Mingjue more.

“Let me see her,” Jiang Cheng says, holding his hands out expectantly and when Nie Mingjue drops her into his arms he checks her over more thoroughly.

There are no visible wounds on her and even though she seems a little bit too cold, she’s quickly warming up, now that she can leech off Jiang Cheng’s and Nie Mingjue’s body heat.

“She seems fine to me,” Jiang Cheng decides. “Maybe a little bit hungry, but she doesn’t seem injured.”

“Thank the gods,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and gently strakes his finger over her cheek. “I was worried because she wouldn’t cry. I still remember how Jin Ling was, it seemed strange for her not to make a sound.”

Jiang Cheng decides not to take offense on Jin Ling’s behalf, because he was one loud baby and instead says “Babies are much more sensitive than we give them credit for. If her parents were hiding from the yao, it’s likely she somehow picked up on the fact that she needs to be quiet.”

“She’s barely older than six month,” Nie Mingjue says with a frown and Jiang Cheng presses her protectively to his chest.

“And maybe she’s just especially bright,” he snaps back and then walks out of the house. “Come on, we still have to let the healers check her over, maybe we missed something,” he calls over his shoulder when Nie Mingjue doesn’t follow him immediately.

“Alright, alright. But Wanyin—no getting attached. We’re not keeping her,” he says and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Of course we’re not keeping her. I don’t want any more kids, Jin Ling totally was enough for me,” he cheekily says, though immediately the doubt cuts deep again.

Jin Ling is only six, but the kid already has an attitude and he has his nose high up in the sky and Jiang Cheng is afraid that he fucked him over for good. He is not fit to raise any kid, least of all his sister’s child, and absolutely not the sweet baby in his arms.

“As long as you remember,” Nie Mingjue says and then keeps a hand under the babies bum the whole time they walk.

As if Jiang Cheng would ever let anything this precious drop.

~*~*~

“How is our baobei doing?” Nie Mingjue asks with a huge smile as he walks into the infirmary.

They are keeping her there for a lack of better accommodations, though Jiang Cheng is getting out all of Jin Ling’s old stuff again. Soon enough she’ll be able to sleep with them in their bedroom.

“She is perfectly alright,” Jiang Cheng gives back and looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor, tickling her tummy and watching her squirming around and squealing with laughter.

“And how is my most amazing husband doing?” Nie Mingjue asks as he drops a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head and then blows raspberries onto the babies tummy.

“I am doing very well, too, thank you for asking,” Jiang Cheng seriously gives back and then erupts into laughter when Nie Mingjue gives him a disgruntled look at that.

It makes the baby clap her hands together and kick her tiny, tiny feet in the air and Jiang Cheng simply melts at the sight.

“And news of her parents?” he asks, mostly to distract himself from the urge of squeezing her to death and Nie Mingjue shakes his head as he sits down next to Jiang Cheng and picks her up.

“No. There were reports of a family running from the yao, but no one knew them and no one seems to know where the parents ran off to. I left a message in the house we found her in, in case they come back, but I don’t think it’s looking promising. It’s been a week already.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng thoughtfully says and offers up one of his fingers for her to hold on to. “What a shame.”

“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue agrees and then they fall silent.

Well, at least until their little baobei starts to scream bloody murder because she’s hungry.

~*~*~

They are laying in bed, Jiang Cheng tracing senseless shapes into Nie Mingjue’s chest when he speaks up.

“We’re not keeping her, right?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Mingjue tenses.

“Wanyin, I thought we were agreeing on this,” he cautiously says and Jiang Cheng props himself up to look at him.

“We are. I am not fit to be a father; I was barely able to be an uncle to Jin Ling and raising him—I did so much wrong. I’m too much of my mother and not enough of my father and I’m just—”

“Well, from what you told me about your parents and from what I have seen with Jin Ling you are exactly the right mix of them. Just from the top of my head I can come up with at least seven instances where you held or carried Jin Ling, so I’d say you are perfectly good.”

“I messed up so much with him,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “The real damage will only show when he’s older, just you wait.”

“Well, pardon me, but your parents were shit and you turned out alright if I dare say so,” Nie Mingjue tells him and pulls him into a kiss. “And I am not actually keen on being a dad, either. I was pouring so much into raising Huaisang when our father died and I don’t know if I can raise anyone without the explicit expectation of them having to be a Sect Heir.”

Nie Mingjue sighs and Jiang Cheng snuggles closer to him.

“Look at how I messed up with him. I put so much pressure onto him all the time because I feared I would die young and now he avoids any kind of responsibility as if his life depends on it. I already fucked up once. I’m not going to do it again.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” Jiang Cheng protests. “If anything you spoilt him too much. You were too lenient. It’s not like he ever cowers when you yell at him, right? He’s clearly not afraid of you or the consequences you keep threatening him with, because he damn well knows you’d never follow through.”

“Is that right?” Nie Mingjue asks, raising one eyebrow at Jiang Cheng. “Just like Jin Ling laughs at you whenever you threaten to break his legs?”

“That’s different,” Jiang Cheng huffs.

“I don’t think it is,” Nie Mingjue argues and then rolls them over onto the side so they can sleep.

“No more kids,” he mutters, burying his face in Jiang Cheng’s hair and Jiang Cheng agrees.

No more kids for them.

~*~*~

It’s been two months by now since they found little Baobei in the abandoned house and they have formed a routine around her.

The healers complained after two weeks of her being in the infirmary that she can’t stay there anymore so Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue took her to their own bedroom, letting her sleep right next to their bed, so they could keep an eye on her.

“Good morning, little baobei,” Jiang Cheng says when she grumbles herself awake and Nie Mingjue laughs at the sight.

“She’s just like you,” he jokes and Jiang Cheng can’t even manage a proper frown over her head.

“Shut up, she is not,” he denies and Nie Mingjue has not even the decency to argue with him about this.

“Let’s go find Jiang Zedong and hear how the search for parents for her is going,” Jiang Cheng mutters, a little bit miffed that Nie Mingjue wouldn’t indulge him in a little argument, but when Nie Mingjue comes over to pepper first Baobei with kisses and then Jiang Cheng, he decides it’s forgotten.

When they ask Jiang Zedong about the issue he stares at them like they lost their minds.

“What do you mean, possible parents for her?”

“What do you mean, what do we mean?” Jiang Cheng bites back, though he’s aware that the look is a little bit ruined with Baobei in his arms. “You’re supposed to look for possible parents for her, what’s going on?”

“You mean for other people to take her in?”

“Other people? Who else would take her in?” Nie Mingjue asks as well, and when Baobei starts to sniffle, he takes her right out of Jiang Cheng’s arms.

It turns out that Baobei is a very sensitive baby, and she picks up on moods incredibly well. They haven’t found much that can sooth her, but resting against Nie Mingjue’s chest always seems to do the trick.

Jiang Cheng can relate. It’s a very good chest to lean on.

“You?” Jiang Zedong shoots back and Jiang Cheng quickly reaches out when Nie Mingjue’s arms go slack.

He manages to secure Baobei until Nie Mingjue remembers himself and hugs her close again.

“We’re not looking to adopt,” Nie Mingjue tells him, and Jiang Zedong frowns in confusion.

“But didn’t you already? I mean, she sleeps with you and you modelled your whole day around her. You come running when she cries or makes any kind of sound and no offense, but you don’t even allow the healers to hold her for her check-ups. I am actually afraid of what you’ll do if I tell you that we did find someone to adopt. Honestly, I just thought you would keep her.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at Nie Mingjue who in turn blinks at him.

“We didn’t want to adopt,” Jiang Cheng eventually says and Nie Mingjue nods.

“Well, to me—and everyone else—it looks like you already did. Now if you excuse me, I have real problems to solve here,” he then tells them and simply marches off.

Jiang Cheng wonders what demon was possessing him when he appointed Jiang Zedong his second in command, but when Baobei gurgles he forgets that thought.

“We weren’t looking to adopt,” Nie Mingjue says and bounces Baobei in a soothing manner.

“No, we weren’t.”

“Maybe—maybe she adopted us?” Nie Mingjue tries and Jiang Cheng sighs, before he leans into Nie Mingjue’s side.

“My soul, maybe it’s time we face the truth,” he gravely says, and surprisingly enough he’s not terrified out of his mind. “We’re done for. We are her parents.”

There’s a moment of silence from Nie Mingjue before he shrugs.

“Could be worse, I guess,” he says and lifts Baobei up high in the air.

Jiang Cheng fights the urge to snag her out of his hands, because what if he lets her fall, but by then Nie Mingjue already has her safely against his chest again.

“Just promise me, Wanyin: if I put too much pressure on her, if I demand too much of her, you’ll have to smack me over the head.”

“I’ll smack you over the head whenever I please,” Jiang Cheng cheerfully tells him but then he nods. “Of course I promise. And—the same goes for you: if I snap at her like my mother did or if I don’t give her the affection she deserves, you’ll have to smack some sense into me.”

“I promise, my heart, but you already did a good job with Jin Ling.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on that, because the fear that he fucked his nephew up sits deep, but when Baobei babbles happily at him, he pushes those thoughts away.

“Oh shit,” Jiang Cheng suddenly says, and looks with big eyes at Nie Mingjue. “We have to come up with a real name for her!”

“Oh fuck,” Nie Mingjue wholeheartedly agrees and then they dissolve into laughter because if that is their biggest worry right now, then maybe they’ll be alright.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #mdzsbingo #established relationship #canon divergence #adoption #found family #quite literally #fluff

110 notes · View notes

ray-ray-writings · 4 years ago

Text

A Dedicated and Domesticated Pig-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! For the sake of this story, we’re going to say that once new L’manberg was built and Tubbo became president no other war happened. They rebuilt and the nation was happy and prosperous.

This is the fourth and probably final part of the Dedicated Series! I honestly cannot believe how much you guys love this series! Thank you guys so much for all of your support! As I said, this is probably the final part because I don’t really know how this could go even further, but who knows. Maybe one of you will have a killer idea that I can’t turn down. But I just wanted to say thank you all again so so much for the overwhelming support that you guys continue to give me. I love you all so much… Anyway on with the story.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Masterlist here

Everything comes full circle when Y/N and their family travel to L’Manberg for the annual festival.

Y/N’s POV

I let out a groan as the sunlight that peered through our window hit my closed eyes, arousing me from my slumber. I knew I should have sprung for those blackout curtains when I had the chance. I huffed and rolled over, my hand searching the other side of the bed for the lump that was my husband. My brow furrowed when no such lump was found, instead a cool spot laid where my husband usually rests. “Babe?” I croaked out, my eyes peeling open to confirm my thoughts. I slowly sat up and pushed the blankets off of me, looking around the room and still not seeing him there. I closely listened for a moment, thinking that maybe he had decided to take an early morning shower, no such sound.

Stretching my arms up, I swung my legs out of the blankets and onto the floor before standing up, my back cracking ever so slightly at the stretch. I slowly made my way out of the bedroom and throughout the house. I was about to check in the other room, when noise from the kitchen captured my attention.

Walking into the kitchen, I found the most adorable domestic sight I’ve seen in a while. There, in front of the stove, stood Technoblade with our 4 year old daughter Philippa on his hip. “You want to flip this pancake together?” I heard Techno muttered softly, his head turning to look at her. Her curly pink hair bobbed up and down as she agreed. “Okay. Grab here on my hand and we’ll flip on three.” Her tiny hand reached out and wrapped around Techno’s much larger one. “You ready? One, two, three!” Techno cheered before flipping the pancake. The breakfast food splatted down onto the pan causing Techno to let out a ‘whoo’ before leaning over and pressing a sweet kiss to our daughter’s forehead. “You did so well baby! You should help me make breakfast more often, I think you’re a better cook than your Baba,” He announced, throwing me under the bus. It was then I decided to make my presence known,

“You burn the potatoes one time,” I teased, causing Techno to slightly jump and turn around allowing me to see my beautiful family’s faces. “Baba!” Philippa cheered, reaching out and making grabby hands to me. I grinned and moved forward, taking our daughter from my husband’s arms. “Hey baby, sleep well?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaning up and kissing my husband. She matched my grin and nodded her head. “Yeah. I had a good dream and I went into your room to tell you about it. Daddy was already awake so he said we could make you breakfast while I told him my dream.” Pip rambled out, reaching out to play with my messy hair. I hummed and looked over to my pink headed husband for confirmation, “Is that so?”

Techno wasn’t looking at me, rather his pancake pan, but the smile on his face confirmed Philippa’s story. “Yeah, we were going to bring you breakfast in bed but you decided to get out of bed,” he teased, bumping his hip against mine. I simply rolled my eyes and bumped his hip back, “I got cold without you beside me. So in a way it’s kind of your fault,” I teased back, poking at his hip with the hand that wasn’t holding Pip. Techno only smiled and shook his head.

“You want to go sit at the table? This is the last pancake and I figured I can serve you and Pip at the table if you won’t let me serve you in bed.” My cheeks flushed at his sweetness. Even after all these years, he still knows how to make me shy. I gave Techno’s cheek a quick kiss before moving to the table. I set Philippa down in her normal seat before moving to my own. It didn’t take Techno too long to walk over to the table, balancing three plates in his arms. He set my plate down in front of me first before placing one in front of Pip and then in front of his own seat. Philippa wasted no time, she immediately began eating her breakfast, her small colorful fork shoving the pancake into her mouth.

Before he sat down, Techno leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. Once he pulled back, I sighed in contentment, “Thank you,” I stated with a grin before turning to my own plate. Techno chuckled as he sat next to me, “for the food or the kiss?” “Both.”

“What are we doing today Baba?” Philippa asked, her face somehow covered in sticky syrup. “Today’s L’Manberg’s Autumn Festival, remember sweetheart? We’re going to Papa Phil’s house and then we’re going to go to the festival,” I reminded her gently, reaching over and gently wiping the syrup from her cheeks. Philippa gasped in excitement as her eyes lit up at the reminder, “We’re going to see Papa Phil?” She questioned. I chuckled at her excitement, “Yes baby. And we’ll also see Uncle Will, Uncle Tommy, Uncle Tubbo. We’ll see everyone.” “Papa Phil!” She cheered aloud, completely ignoring my addition. But I couldn’t blame her. Those two have been obsessed with each other since they met. After all, we named her for him. Techno chuckle caused my attention to shift. His eyes met mine as we smiled at each other, “Papa Phil!” He cheered causing me to giggle. “Papa Phil!”

*Little Time Skip*

“Come on Tech! We’re going to be late!” I called into the house from the front door. “We’re coming! We’re coming!” Techno called from somewhere in the house causing me to giggle and roll my eyes. People always assume that it’s me that causes our family to be late, but it’s almost always Techno and Philippa.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Techno finally appeared with a bundled up Philippa on his hip. Once Techno and I got married and we started thinking about starting a family, we discussed the idea of building a new home. The one we had was very nice, but it was in the middle of a tundra with all of our family thousands of blocks away in L’Manberg. So we moved a lot closer to the country, but still far enough away to have our privacy. We found a cute snowy biome that was perfect. It had that comforting feel of the snow that Techno so desired in his ‘retirement’ but it wasn’t as cold as the tundra and of course, wasn’t as far. So we still had to bundle up everytime we left, but we didn’t have to stay in those clothes long.

The three of us walked out to our stables to get on our horses, Carl Jr. and Wendy. Techno helped me mount my horse before handing me Philippa and getting on his own. I made sure Pip was safe and secure in front of me before gathering my reins and getting Wendy to begin walking.

It only took about 20 minutes before we could see L’Manberg. We quickly made our way to Philza’s house, bringing Carl Jr. and Wendy to the open back yard to let them roam freely while we were here. Techno jumped off of Carl, walking over and taking Pip before helping me down as well. Techno let Philippa down and when he stood back up, I reached up and gave him a sweet ‘thank you’ kiss.

As soon as her legs touched the ground, Pip bolted for the back door entrance of her grandfather’s house. “Papa Phil! Papa Phil!” She cried as her little legs carried her to the house. Techno and I followed behind her as she grew nearer. “What is all this commotion out here?” Philza called teasingly as he swung the door open. “Papa Phil!” Philippa practically screamed, attaching herself to his calves as her arms wrapped around them tightly. “Woah!! Philippa! My sweet girl! It’s so good to see you!” He called, prying the little girl from his leg, raising her up in his arms before wrapping her in a tight hug.

I could feel my heart melting at the interaction happening in front of us. Philza was so happy when we announced Philippa, he was even more happy when we announced her name. That was the most tears I have ever seen Philza cry. He didn’t even cry that much at Techno and I’s wedding, and that day was full of crying. He’s the best grandfather to her. He adores her and she adores him. They’re the absolute cutest.

“Hey kids!” Philza finally greeted us after giving his full attention to his granddaughter. “Hey dadza,” we chimed in response. I carefully hugged Philza, careful not to crush Philippa before moving aside to let Techno do the same. The four of us moved further into the house, to the living room to be exact. “Are you excited for the festival today?” Philza questioned the little girl that remained in his arms. Philippa’s curls bounced once more as she nodded excitedly, “Yep, I get to see you Papa Phil!” She cheered. The smile on Phil’s face widened as he threw his head back and laughed, “Yes you do sweetheart, but you also get to see your Uncles and you get to play games and eat fun foods,” Philza explained, trying to get a different answer from her. Philippa nodded once more, “Yes. and I get to see you!” She cheered once more. I could tell the comment really made Philza’s heart warm. Small tears pricked in the corner of his eyes at well as her sweetness. “And I get to see you Pip!”

*Time Skip*

The four of us left Phil’s house to go to the festival at noon. The streets were decorated with brightly colored ribbons and many booths were set up with games, food, and merch type things. The sight really reminded me of the first L’Manberg festival that happened six years ago, the one where Techno asked me to be his partner.

We arrived at the main area to be greeted by everyone, and I mean everyone. Immediately Philippa was picked up from beside Philza and tossed in the air by her eldest uncle, Wilbur. “There’s my most adorable niece,” He cheered over her squeals and giggles. Due to Wilbur’s actions, all of the attention was on us. Instantly, we were swarmed by our friends, giving us, well mostly me, hugs and grins. Philippa was passed around from uncle to uncle to aunt, everyone cooing over just how much she’d grown since the last time we’d been here.

“You think we’ll get her back anytime soon?” Techno asked, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me close to his side. I let out a laugh as I let my own arm wrap around him as well. “With this lot? Heck no.” Techno chuckled at my response but nodded, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Once we finally got our daughter back, we made our way to the game booths. First up, the dunk tank. It was the same dunk tank from 6 years ago, but it was still in great shape. Tubbo was first, he got dunked a few times. I mean who wouldn’t want to dunk their president? Following him was Tommy, Niki, Quackity, and many more. “Techno, you want in on this?” Someone called from beside the dunk tank. I turned to Techno with a bright grin and nudged his shoulder, “Yeah Techno, you want in on that?” Techno playfully glared at me at the teasing tone. Before he could respond though, Philippa spoke up, “Daddy going in the dunk tank? YAY!” Techno was never able to deny his daughter. He let out a sigh before handing me Pip and making his way to the tank. “You two are evil,” Philza chimed from beside me, grabbing one of Pip’s tiny hands and waving it back and forth. I shrugged and chuckled, “Maybe. But it’s pretty funny either way.”

Techno begrudgingly climbed into the dunk tank, glaring at me when he sat on the seat. I simply gave him a sweet smile and a wave. Everyone eagerly lined up to try and dunk my pink headed husband now that they weren’t terrified of him like they were many years ago. Unfortunately, everyone missed, literally not a single one hit, not even the one I threw after I set Pip down. I turned around in disappointment to find Phil leaning down and whispering something in Pip’s ear. Her little eyes were wide with excitement as she grinned and nodded at whatever her grandfather was telling her.

Once Philza stood back up, Philippa ran to the dunk tank. I was about to run after me, when Philza’s hand on my shoulder stopped me from moving. “Trust me. Just watch,” Philza whispered behind me. Philippa stopped beside the dunk tank, next to the button that would sink her father. “Hello Daddy!” Philippa exclaimed, waving frantically at Techno who was still sitting in the tank. “Hello Pip… What are you doing?” He asked, an eyebrow raised toward his daughter. “Dunking you!” She cheered before she reached up and pressed her small hand into the button causing the seat to collapse under my husband and dunk him into the cold water below him.

Philippa let out an excited squeal as her father was submerged and she ran back to Phil and I was a bright grin on her lips. “I did it Papa! I did what you told me!” Phil let out a loud laugh and picked up his granddaughter and pressed a big kiss to her cheek, “Yes you did. You did so well sweetheart.” Philippa giggled and cuddled herself closer to Phil. I reached over and ran my hand through her hair and kissed her cheek as well, “Baba is very proud of you lovely,” I announced causing her to giggle once more. “Is that so?” The monotone voice of my husband called from behind me. I whipped around and found a soaking wet Techno, his wet pink hair hanging in his face. I grinned as I scanned him up and down before meeting his eyes, “Yeah, it is,” I claimed, crossing my arms across my chest.

We stared at each other in silence for a moment before Techno’s face broke out in a grin as he took a small step forward, “You know what I have to do now babe.” The memory of what happened the last time this happened flashed into my mind. Oh god. I took a small step backwards toward Phil and Pip, “Hey now, you really don’t have to do this Techno,” I stated nervously. The grin on his lips curled even bigger, “Oh but I do,” Techno announced.

Before I even had time to think, Techno launched himself forward and wrapped his dripping wet arms around me, burying his soaked face into my neck causing me to get wet as well. “Technoooo!” I whined out, trying to push him off of me, but he didn’t budge. “Y/NNNNN” He mocked, squeezing his arms tighter around my waist. I let out a sigh before giving into the hug and wrapping my arms around him. “You’re lucky I love you,” I grumbled into his shoulder. Techno chuckled, “I know.”

We played games and ate junk food until the sun went down. Philippa was having a great time at the festival. Everyone had a soft spot for her and let her win every game she wanted to play. She got to eat all the sweets that she wanted. We never let her eat like this at home but because it was a special occasion, Techno and I agreed to let ourselves…. pig out for once… Pun sort of intended.

Soon it was dark and we all gathered together in the L’Manberg square. The air buzzed with excitement as we all waited with anticipation at what was to come. Techno and I stood side by side, with him holding Philippa up between us, one of my arms resting on her lower back the other wrapped around Techno’s waist. “Beloved Citizens and Friends of L’Manberg,” Tubbo called from the podium, drawing all of our attention to him, “I’d like to take this time to thank you all for gathering here for our 6th annual L’Manberg festival. We hope you’ve had a wonderful time. Here’s to more prosperous years to come. Let the show begin!” He finished, throwing his hands in the air.

Immediately fireworks flew up into the sky behind him and exploded into a beautiful array of shimmering colors. Philippa’s hands moved to cover her ears at the loud noise, but her eyes remained trained on the sky. We all watched in amazement as the fireworks exploded in the sky. I felt Techno’s arm pull me in closer to his side and his head tilt down to kiss the side of my head. I pulled my eyes from the sky and turned to look at him. A soft smile was planted on his face when our eyes met.

“Do you remember our first date?” He asked quietly as to not draw attention to us. I smiled and gave a small nod, “Of course. How could I forget, especially since it was six years ago today,” I teased giving him a small wink. Techno chuckled, “That’s true. Just, watching these fireworks really have me thinking about one of the best days of my life.” Blood rushed to my cheeks at his sweet words. “You’re too sweet. I think you’ve gone soft,” I teased my husband, knowing full well he had. Techno’s eyes left mine and slowly wandered and settled on Philippa that was still staring in wonder up in the sky.

“Yeah. I have. I’ve been shown love. I have two, three counting Phil, who love me unconditionally. This morning I was woken up by this sweet little girl who has my hair and your eyes. Before I met you, I would have never thought that days like this… No, a life like this would be possible. I was feared and hated before I met you, and you didn’t show any ounce of fear or hate… Well, maybe dislike because I got yoke all over you… That’s besides the point.

“The point is, if someone had told me seven years ago that one day I would be here, standing in an open field watching fireworks with my spouse and my daughter, I would have laughed in their face and then killed them without hesitation. I mean, you saw how I chased Wilbur around when he even brought it up when we first met. You’ve changed my life, Y/N. You’ve given me everything I’ve never thought possible. You’ve given me a real family of my own. People that I can take care of, protect, and be dedicated to until the day I die. But also people that I’m willing to drop everything to cook a meal for or clean the house for… You’ve made me a dedicated and domesticated pig. And I will be that, until my last breath.”

Nothing could stop the tears that had begun to flow down my cheeks. Techno’s beautiful speech had made me cry. That jerk. “You’re my everything Tech. You’ve given more that I could have ever hoped for in this life. I am so completely and utterly dedicated to you. All those years ago when I saw your name pop up on my right arm, I would have never in a million years guessed that this is where the two of us would end up. Together, side by side, with a beautiful daughter between us. Thank you, for everything.”

Our lips met in a passionate kiss. Everything felt so right in the world. The two of us, standing here in the spot of our first date, on the anniversary of our first date, with our daughter in our arms who’s currently enthralled in the firework show happening above. It was so right.

“Ewwww!” Philippa squealed, causing us to break apart, “Baba and Dada kissing!!” She squealed once more, making a face of disgust. Techno and I exchanged a quick glance. “Oh yeah, you think kisses are gross?” I teased, leaning me head forward toward her just a little bit. She frantically nodded, looking between both of us. “Well then you definitely won’t like this!” Techno called. The two of us immediately dove our faces into Philippa’s and began pressing short little peck’s all over her face and her neck making the ‘Mwah!’ sound as loud as we could. Pip began to giggle and squeal loudly as we kissed her. I could tell we had gathered the eyes of the crowd because I could hear people cooing as we loved up our daughter.

“Still think kisses are gross?” I questioned once we pulled our faces away from Pip’s. She quickly shook her head, before puckering her lips and giving each of our cheeks kisses. “Spread kisses?” She asked, pointing to her Papa Phil who stood just a few feet away from us. I glanced at Techno who just shrugged at me before leading us over to his father.

“Papa Phil!” Pip cheered, reaching out of our arms toward her grandfather. “Well hey there Pip! Did you enjoy the show?” He asked, accepting her into his arms. “Mhm!! Now kisses!” Before Phil could respond, Pip had begun placing tiny kisses all over the side of Phil’s face. “Spread kisses!” She exclaimed once she was done. “Thank you Pip, I appreciate that. Do you want to go spread kisses to your aunts and uncles?” Philippa’s pink hair bobbed up and down and so Philza walked away from the two of us to the next unsuspecting target.

As I watched, I felt Techno lean down and press a sweet kiss to the side of my head. “We did good huh?” My eyes left my daughter’s figure as I turned to look at him with a wide grin. “Yeah, we did my domesticated pig.” My eyes left his and found Philippa now in Wilbur’s arms, planting kisses all over his face. “We really did.”

There you go! I really really hope you enjoyed. I absolutely loved writing this piece and just this whole series in general. It’s like my little baby and I really really hope you guys love it even just half as much as I do. Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me! Please remember to like, reply, or even reblog if you did enjoy.

451 notes · View notes

mctherofdragons · 4 years ago

Text

Slumber Party | G.W.

♡ Matching pajamas, birthday suits, her spit taste just like juicy fruit. // Slumber Party, Ashnikko

Pairing: Ginny Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, post-war, mentions of LGBTQ issues, girl on girl, best friends to lovers, mutual masturbation, touching, dirty talk, oral (female receiving).

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this little diddy to my fellow Ginny simps, @gcdric and @vogueweasley. Also, I’m queer as a two dollar bill. Don’t send me biphobic asks. Anyway, here’s my first Ginny smut. Enjoy <3

All characters in this story are 18 years or older!

___________

You had been friends with her for as far back as you could remember. Everything about her caused butterflies to bloom alive deep in your gut and your palms to get just a little sweaty. However, you had not even come out to yourself, let alone to the rest of the world, when you first met Ginny Weasley. Even so, you and the feisty redhead had become friends quickly and that had never changed.

Even now, with so much changed after the war, you found comfort in the constant and lasting friendship you had with Ginny. She was your secret keeper; best friend; confidant; and the person you called when everything went to shit. Ginny was the absolute world to you. That’s why what happened last night felt both magical and dreamlike. You had never imagined that Ginny would reciprocate feelings toward you. But to say she had merely requited would be an understatement.

You were laying on your bed with Ginny curled up next you. She rested her head on your shoulder, her soft, ginger braid dancing against your bare shoulder. You were watching a scary movie together, sharing a bowl of popcorn and laughing when the other jumped. Ginny should squeal just a bit and bury her face in your neck, causing waves of heat to erupt between your legs whenever her breath caught against your skin.

Once the movie had ended, you flicked the lights off, crawling under the covers with Ginny. The room was left with just the warm, dim lighting from the Christmas lights you had hanging around your ceiling. You both lay there in silence for a while.

Eventually, you began to speak, figuring neither of you were able to fall asleep. You and Ginny both turned to face each other, propping yourselves up with your elbows, hands resting on the sides of your heads.

“So, tell me about the guy you’re seeing.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m seeing him. We text sometimes, but mostly, we’ve just been fucking.”

“How is he?,” You giggled along with Ginny at the sound of your question. Ginny fell silent, adjusting her arm to get more comfortable.

“Y/n, can I ask you something? It’s weird.”

You flipped onto your side, able to making out Ginny’s face slightly in the darkness.

“Gin, we’ve been friends for over ten years. It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You burst out laughing, before realizing Ginny hadn’t so much as giggled. You reached over tucked her hair behind her ear, shocked at your own advance. “Yeah, I have, Gin. Lots. Have you?” The redhead took a deep breath, looking down for a moment and chewing her lip. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of her pink lip between her teeth. “No.”

“Not even from yourself?”

She shook her head and your heart hammered. “I don’t think I do it right. Can you help me?” You wanted to pinch yourself because there was no way in two Hells Ginny Weasley was asking you to teach her how to fuck herself. Yet, she flipped onto her back, sliding her silky pajama shorts off quickly. You followed suit, kicking your Hogwarts Alumni sweatpants off as quickly as you could. You noticed Ginny hadn’t been wearing panties, and you were already soaking through your own.

You looked over at her, catching sight of her pussy. She wasn’t completely shaved, just trimmed. You’d always wondering if the curtains matched the drapes and so you were over the moon when you saw that Ginny had just a bit of soft, red hair between her legs, too.

You reached down into your black lace panties to begin rubbing slow circles on your clit. “So, you’ll want to start nice and slow.” You watched with hitched breath as Ginny let her pale hand begin to toy with her pussy. She moaned a little, tipping her head back. You smiled, continuing to work on yourself.

“Now, a little faster, Gin.”

You listened to Ginny’s beautiful moans falling from her lips. The sound could have been better than a symphony to you then. It was breathy and idyllic - feminine yet feral - like Ginny was a goddess and you were lucky just to be next to her. Ginny reached over and grabbed your hand, guiding it down onto her clit. “Ginny-” “Please, I trust you.”

You slowly touched Ginny’s sensitive clit, rubbing softly. You listened to her come undone a little bit more. You slid your fingers between her folds. Ginny was soaking wet. which caused your fingers to slide perfectly into her waiting hole. You fingered her with your forefinger and middle while your thumb continued to swirl her sensitive bud. Ginny arched her back desperately, grinding up onto your fingers. “That feels so fucking good. Holy shit.” “Hey,” you whispered, moving her face toward you. She smiled a bit before you moved in for a kiss. You could have cried right there, unbelieving that you were finally meeting the lips of the girl you had wanted for so long. Ginny swiped her tongue along your lower lip and you allowed her entry.

“I want to eat you out, Gin,” you whispered when your lips finally parted. Ginny smiled and nodded, allowing you to move to pull the blankets away from her. You began by kissing slowly down her belly, before moving to part her thighs. You hummed as you kissed her milky and pale skin, relishing in the feel of the velvety soft flesh beneath you.

“P-please, y/n...” You smiled when you finally pressed your mouth to Ginny’s hot and waiting pussy. Using your tongue, you swirled small circles onto her clit. “Mmm,” the sound fell from your lips as you opened your mouth wider, licking a stripe from her clit down to her opening. Sliding your tongue back up caused Ginny to moan loader. Hearing your best friend cheering you on made you all the more excited to make her cum properly. You attached your lips around her clit and sucked, causing her to buck her hips upward.

As you continued to lap at her sweetness, Ginny reached down. You put both of your hands up and she intertwined her fingers in yours. It was both unbearably sexy but also intimate. You flickered your tongue against her, moving between suckling, kissing, and lapping at her pussy. You moved your tongued in a zigzag motion down her pussy and back up again. Ginny tasted like the sweetest fruit you’ve ever eaten. You couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. She squeezed your hands tightly and bucked up a bit. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna...oh, I’m gonna fuckin’ c-cum, y/n...” You nodded, beginning to work at her with more enthusiasm. Any shame you had was gone as you sucked and slurped at her hot cunt, taking in the taste of her. Finally, she came, squeezing her thighs around your head and bucking her hips wildy. The sound of her reaching her orgasm was heavenly, soft and feminine moans filling your room, and causing your own wetness to coat your thighs. When she finally was laying on the bed still, her chest rose and fell rapidly. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand and moved up next to her. She kissed you softly, smiling. “That was literally...unreal.” You pulled her close, letting her lay her head on her chest. She took a deep breath before speaking. “I like you, y/n. I mean, more than just as my best friend...” “I like you, too, Ginny. I have for a long time.” She kissed you again, moving to sit up a bit. “Can you...teach me how to...eat you out?” You laughed and nodded, spreading your legs open. “Oh, abso-fucking-lutely, Gin.”

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley fanfiction #ginny weasley. x reader #wlw #sapphic #sapphic fanfiction #wlw fanfiction

180 notes · View notes

liveindaydreamswithhim · 4 years ago

Text

Just like 1940*

A blurb in which Harry comes back from filming Dunkirk only to find that his girlfriend thinks he's a soldier coming back from war and wants to reward him.

Warning: This is pure smut. Main kinks: role-playing and even some choking and bondage.

I had this idea back in 2017 when Dunkirk had come out. However, I did not write then so now that videos of Harry training for Dunkirk has resurfaced, it has come back to me again. I will not let this opportunity go this time.

Word count: 5.6K

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders in order to get rid of the soreness that lingered after his long day at the set. His hours at work – quite different than the work he had been already used to – consisted mostly of hard training. That is how it was nowadays being part of a film and a war film nonetheless, so he and all the cast members had to always stay in their best shape and having to withgo heavy hours of training. From weightlifting and boxing to exercising in the wet sand while they were left to the brutality of the cold wind in addition to the sea that chilled him down to his bones and made the minutes feel like hours. Moreover, they had diving lessons in wet suits that barely even sheltered him from the freezing waters as well as wardrobe training to learn how to swim while wearing the heavy army boots and all the uniform equipment.

Harry searched his back pockets for his hotel room keys and even let a small groan as he reached towards the hole only for the joints of his elbow to crack in protest. Even though this day was not a training day, but rather a filming day, it had hardly given him any comfort for it still requested high physical skills and willpower and he could also feel the consequences of yesterday’s gym training. His thighs had been the ultimate victim as he dragged them around today, the muscles harder and more prominent from the excessive use, along with his torso that suffered the results of continuous core exercises, which also restricted him from laughing too much on set today since every deep breath was like a small pang to the stomach.

The boy felt his uniform stick to his skin with sweat and the smell of saltiness clung to him after being exposed to the sea air for a long period of time. He made a mental check to wash it tomorrow. That was the only problem of taking your work clothes with you – even if it saved you time in the morning for getting ready on set, you had to wash it yourself and that was not something the other actors warned him about when they advised him of it.

As Harry entered his room, the smell of vanilla and jasmine invaded his nose and he remembered to step lighter on his army boots and close the door with a soft thud as to not disturb the other person that was probably in his room so late at night. What gave him a bit of peace – and mostly his body – was the fact that he had tomorrow off to rest and more importantly to spend some time with his girl. Y/N was visiting him after being away from each other for the last three months and she had been very excited the first day he had taken her to the set and her eyes turned twice their normal size as they stared at every piece of the setting as well as behind it with all of the crew members. Y/N had been giddy when she met his co-workers who she charmed with her smiles and blushes (and also the fact that she was cutely wrapped up in bundles of clothes as to not catch a cold that only her face was visible, the skin of her cheeks and nose tinted red from the brutal winds as few strands of hair tickled her face that she couldn’t really push away since her hands were restricted by her thick gloves) and Harry had felt so proud to call her his as he showed her around with his arm over her shoulder as she leaned into him for some extra heat.

Y/N had looked especially proud when she was witnessing him act with her hands clasped close to her chest as she had stared in awe at the way her boyfriend looked. It gave him that extra boost of confidence as he noticed the way her eyes trailed from his short hair to his stained face to shamelessly gawk at the way his green uniform clung to his body especially when water was soaking it, leaving the skin underneath a bit more visible. Y/N would bite her lower lip but would not say anything until he finished filming for the day and then she would drag him immediately to their room, her hands never leaving his body until he was burning up from her touch, melting from her close proximity as she made him moan and call out her name in the darkness of the room over and over again while trembling under her warm body.

His blood rushed as he even thought of the day when he was being pulled inside a forgotten closet by his lover who, without wasting any time, attached her lips to the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbones pushing the fabric off his shoulder to give Y/N more space to invade. Harry had become dizzy at her assault but it had only lasted a few seconds, long enough to guide his hand down the front of her legging, where he realised how drenched and needy she was for him, but before he could curl his fingers in the way that had her begging, Y/N pulled his hand away with a deep sigh like it hurt her to do so, kissed his pink coloured lips for a second and then push him back out of the room before anyone could notice his absence.

Y/N, left in the closet with her own thoughts, had giggled at the stunned expression on Harry’s face and how she had picked her own battle carefully in order to await retaliation from him. And it really was more than she could handle. Harry had had on his scary calm face, the one that made her eyes widen in innocence because perhaps she had bit more than she could chew. After having her hands restrained to the bed frame, unable to move, Harry had granted her what she wanted, but with a twist. That night Y/N got his ring clad fingers time after time until she was sore and raw and made a wet mess of the bed, until she was begging for Harry to stop as he stared at her with a smirk on his clean shaved face, fake sympathy written all over it.

“But we have only just began,” was all that he had said and pulled her until she stranded his lap, a tight hold on her trembling thighs while her hands had fought her restrains.

Almost painfully slow, he slid inside of her, with absolutely no resistance as her mouth choked a small whine. As he had fucked her raw against the bedframe, his lips and teeth leaving marks on any part of soft skin he could reach, Y/N had thought to herself that maybe she had won the battle, but she had definitely lost the war. However, she was not giving up until she finally got what she wanted.

Walking now further into the room, Harry heard a soft humming and was surprised to see that Y/N was still awake and had lit a few jasmine scented candles that gave the whole room a golden feeling.

“Y/N?” he called out carefully.

Harry heard an elongated gasp and soft feet padding quickly to where he was.

“You are finally home!” she exclaimed coming into view and throwing her arms around his broad shoulders squeezing tightly as her feet left the floor.

Although confused at her affection he hugged her back because in the end, he had actually missed her on the set today. With his arms around her waist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck taking in the sweet smell of vanilla that always followed her. After a few moments, Y/N pulled back and smiled brightly at him and only then did he notice her attire. She was wearing a baby blue button-down dress that reached her knees. It had a sweetheart neckline and was tight around her chest and waist before it flowed out with enough fabric to hide her bare feet from view. The dress looked from a different era entirely and Harry was certain that she had bought it from a second-hand vintage shop. However, what caught his attention was the fact that the fabric was so thin that he could actually see her nipples protruding, hard from the chilly air of the room or even her lustful stare at him, because while he was staring her down, Y/N was also doing the same, with her lip caught in her teeth as she saw the camouflage apparel he had on, a few of his jacket’s buttons undone to see the green shirt underneath. A thick black belt kept his army trousers carefully in place and she never hated anything that much before.

“I can’t believe that you are back to me!” Y/N said eagerly, the tone in her voice cheery mixed with surprise.

“What–“ Harry was beyond confused looking at his girlfriend in front of him.

“You have been away from me for so long, I thought I would never see you again,” she cried out and he was so bewildered that he let her lead him to the bedroom and pushing him gently on a chair.

She went down on her knees in front of him and started unlacing his boots. The frown on Harry’s face was still prominent as he thought “what the fuck”.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked softly and reached over to her forehead, thinking that maybe she had gone out without her protections against the cold and had caught a fever.

Y/N simply gave him her sweetest smile that melted his heart and replied; “I am more than okay now that I have you here again my love,”

“I don’t understa-“

“I am so happy that you have come back home to me from the terrors of the world, my brave, brave soldier,” Y/N looked up at him with adoration in her eyes as well as plenty of mischief as she finally stood up, her fingers reaching towards the stray curls that had fallen in his eyes.

“Soldier?” was all that Harry could say dumbly and he seriously felt that he was missing something, but it wasn’t likely that Y/N would simply reveal it and he was all alone trying to understand.

“Yes, soldier. For have you not been fighting restlessly against our country’s enemy while I am sat here at home praying for your well-being, hoping that you will return to me?” she asked pursuing her lips like he was the mad one here.

This time Harry stayed silent trying to understand and looked in her eyes, filled with challenge as she cocked her eyebrow at him, running her hands down her skirt and raising it just enough to reveal the creamy skin of her thighs as placed each of them in either side of his until she was stranding him, and his hands ended up automatically on the small of her back as Y/N stared down at Harry with a theatrical sigh.

“Oh, how I missed you,” she dropped her head to his neck and puckered her lips to litter soft kisses around the are that slowly turned more opened mouthed as she reach the underside of his jaw, while her thighs squeezed his, trapping him under her.

Oh.

He saw it now.

His palms ran down to her ass and he pushed Y/N with force until her chest was against his, feeling her gasp and breathe heavily through the thin fabric of her dress. A wild sensation came over him as he realised the game that his girl wanted to play and fuck, would he grant her anything she asked for, so with a deep breath, he ran his hands all over her like he didn’t know where to begin touching her, in the desperate manner that he usually possessed after not seeing her for months on end.

Y/N released a small moan as Harry’s hands finally reached her hair and gathered it in one handful, pulling it lightly so that her throat and cleavage was exposed to him. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his lips on her skin that was starting to be set on fire, especially as his tongue poked through to savour the taste of her. His other hand rested on her hip that had already started grinding on him.

Harry growled and the sound travelled deep inside her all the way through her veins and his presence was heavy all around her. She almost couldn’t believe that she had convinced him to roleplay with her, a fantasy born since the first time she had seen him in that army uniform. During the last few second with his lips carving bright red marks on her skin and then licking over them, Y/N had become very desperate and that was not part of her acting.

“I missed you too,” Harry replied almost in agony, for if she wanted him to play desperate, he would gladly do so.

Y/N, now that she was not the one teasing, pulled against Harry’s hold on her hair and clasped his face in her palms and leaned in until she found his mouth. She hummed in appreciation as she tasted his lips that were just as hungry as hers. One taste and that was enough for Harry to want to rip every single item of clothing that she was wearing, but he managed to restrain himself because he knew that destroying that dress would displease her very much. Instead, he opted for carelessly undoing the buttons in the front and slowly every sliver of her bare skin was revealed to him. He knew that she was not wearing a bra but he was surprised to see that she had no other barrier between them after the dress was only hanging from her shoulders. Harry broke from the kiss and stared shamelessly at her exposed body on top of him as Y/N slowly stood up and let the dress become a pool of blue at the bottom of their feet.

She looked at him bashfully and once again went down on her knees for him. She was still almost close to eye level with him as she ran her hands along his hard chest and undid the buttons of his jacket, which Harry quickly discarded it somewhere in the room. Y/N stared at the light green vest that he wore and how it made his arm muscles protrude in the most delicious way as the shapes of his tattoos appeared even darker under candlelight. She decided to keep it on for now.

Next target was the big belt around his waist that she wasted no time unbuckling and pulling it down along his trousers. She stretched out to give one last kiss to his lips before settling further down on her knees, lifting his vest to reveal the valley of his stomach and the muscles defining it. Y/N marked her way south switching between feather soft kisses and hungry bites of skin while her eyes stayed entirely on his face that looked at her expectantly.

“Let me reward you for what you do for all of us,” Y/N said in a small but steady voice. Her hands ran up his firm thighs and over the prominent bulge that had formed in his black underwear. At first contact, Harry released a hiss and immediately closed his eyes.

“Please,” he exhaled.

Kissing the inside of his thighs, Y/N pulled down his boxers and freed him. Her hands were on his cock, feeling how hard he was in anticipation to her moves. The skin was silky as she gave it a testing pump. Harry’s head fell backward at the feeling and Y/N, very satisfied with his reaction, spit on the head and spread the wetness with her thumb so that her hand could slid easier over him.

“Fuck, such dirty actions from such an innocent young woman,” Harry rasped, his voice laced with lust as he looked down at her.

Y/N said nothing, but in retaliation she bit the inside of his thigh before moving up his spread legs to put him in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks as she twirled her tongue around him, capturing the pre-cum and tasting him while giving an appreciative hum. She lowered herself on him until he hit the back of her throat while her hand slid up his thigh to connect with his balls, massaging lightly and coaxing a deep moan from Harry who felt his pleasure build at the bottom of his stomach. Y/N released him with a pop and breathed in some well-needed oxygen before wrapping her mouth back around his dick, bobbing her head in a slow tempo. She felt her eyes fill with tears at the big size of him and the fact that Harry without knowing was slowly lifting his hips to meet her every thrust making her choke around him. Harry realising her efforts to breathe stopped his movement and pulled out of her warm mouth even though he wanted to stay buried in her for hours.

However, Y/N did not mind it at all, especially if Harry continued to reward her with the deep throaty moans he released. Eager to put him back in her mouth she went to lunge forward but was stopped when Harry’s hand in her hair pulled her backwards making her let out a pathetic whimper. She looked up at him begging with her doe like eyes to use her throat as he pleased, but she stopped trying to reach him when he gave her a warning glare, which stilled her in place. Instead, Harry tapped her cheek and she dropped her mouth open and poked her tongue out. The look in his eyes was that he was trying to be careful with her and she almost scowled at it. If she had wanted careful, she would not have orchestrated all of this plot. So, when Harry placed his thumb on her awaiting tongue, she immediately closed her lips around it and sucked on it harshly.

Harry was displeased and quickly pulled his hand back leaving her pleading again. He clicked his tongue and tapped her cheek again and this time he gave a warning pull to her hair for her to obey his orders – a small reminder of who was really in charge and he felt a satisfied thrum at the fact that she obeyed him so easily. When Y/N’s tongue came into view again, Harry ran his cock over the outline of her plush lips and she summoned all the willpower she could master to stay put while her eyes silently begged him to do something. Finally, Harry placed the head of his cock on her tongue and he moaned when he saw that Y/N eyes flattered at the action.

“Such a needy lady,” he mused.

“Please,” she begged him.

“What is it baby,” he cooed and urged her to speak but he had already sank his cock deeper in her mouth feeling out the shape of it, watching in fascination the bulge forming in her cheeks. But he knew what she was pleading for, he knew her well enough to understand her looks and her moods and her stares and he knew from the endless hunger rooted in her eyes that she did not want soft, she wanted to please him.

Again he granted her wish to be desperate and without warning he slid deeper until he felt her nose graze his stomach and held her in that position for a moment – only long enough so that he could wrap a hand around her neck and feel himself fill her up to her limit. Harry pulled back and kept her in that position as he fucked her mouth slow but firmly and he almost felt himself combust from the way that Y/N’s eyes focused on him the entire time.

Y/N felt warm all over and she could feel more wetness pooling between her thighs as she got drunk at the view of him over her using her mouth to get lost in his pleasure. After another pause for her to breathe, Harry without hesitation, placed his hands under her thighs and lifted her like she weighed nothing carrying her to the bed and he really thanked his training for it. Although the muscles all over his body hurt, he managed to push the pain to the back of his head, his mind too preoccupied with the vixen wrapped around him. He laid her on the bed, but she did not stay where he left her. Y/N got up, pushing Harry’s shoulders so that he was the one falling on the bed and she crawled to him. In two quick moves he discarded the vest leaving them both completely naked under the candlelight.

“I thought about you every day, even more at night, and even more when I was alone,” Y/N continued her little game.

Harry raised his brows, because he understood the meaning behind her words and imagined her all day in their bed waiting for him while he was on set, with her greedy hands between her thighs and thinking about him. This hunger she was feeling was only a result of her being left alone in her very dirty thoughts that no amount of cold showers would cool her down and her own fingers couldn’t bring the pleasure he could.

“You have been such a good girl for me, welcoming me back home –“ he urged her to him and deliberately placing her on top of him with one leg between her thighs. She was so focused on the praise given to her that she did not notice that his thigh was right under where she needed him the most. “But how about you? Let me greet you properly.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she soon realised their position.

“Come on baby, use me,” was all he said as he stretched his arms out to prove that he would not interfere with whatever she wanted to do.

However, the position Harry had placed her in could only amount to one thing, something that she wanted to try long ago, but had been too shy to even mention it. Y/N’s cheeks heated up as she noticed his thigh muscles tensing up giving her a better area. She bit her lip and thrusted her hips forward at an angle that his skin grazed her clit, most of her wetness coming off on him.

Harry looked more than satisfied as he heard her first moan of appreciation that was followed by many more as she used his thigh to receive pleasure. Soon Y/N got lost at the warm feeling that travelled through her veins as goosebumps scattered over her skin, she threw her head back and felt her wetness slide down Harry’s thigh and on the duvet under them, but she did not seem to care about anything apart from what his warm skin was doing to her. She jolted me she felt his hands land on her chest, firm as the fingers ran over her nipple making her shudder a bit. Y/N opened her eyes to see that Harry was already watching her, his lip between his teeth and the deep green of his eyes almost non-existent. Like he was not able to control himself he reached forwards and attached his big hands on her hips and made her movements harsher to the point where Y/N almost collapsed on him from the pleasure and gasped as she leaned in to capture Harry’s lips midway, letting his tongue enter her mouth and taste her own as she clenched her thighs.

“I am going to cum,” she warned and braced herself for the rows of pleasure that would most definitely take her breath away.

However, Harry had other plans, as he lifted her off him and smirked when he heard her whimper and tremble at the incompletion. He laid her on the bed and this time she had no energy to object. He took her right leg in his hand and placed it over his shoulder and turned his head so that he could kiss her calf. When she squirmed until one warning slap was given to the inside of her thigh, so close to her soaked centre, she stayed still.

Harry’s left fingers dragged down his left thigh and over the tiger tattoo, the place where Y/N had used him and collected the wetness she had left behind. She moaned so loud when she saw that he had popped his fingers in his mouth and sucked them dry. Then he grabbed his throbbing cock in his hand, sliding it a couple times over her folds and slowly he eased himself in her wet tight hole.

Both of them exhaled in relief at the feeling of becoming one as Harry leaned in to kiss her opened mouth.

“Harry, please,” Y/N cried out although she didn’t know what she was begging for. But Harry nevertheless seemed to give it to her.

With a hard thrust that left them both in scrambles, he picked up the rhythm, hitting that one spot inside her that had his name bouncing off her lips. Y/N arched her back as Harry’s mouth attached to her nipple, his teeth softly grazing them. The deep moans that she released were like they had awoken something feral inside him, as he straitened his back grabbing the leg on his shoulder with both hands, fingers digging into the plush skin of her thigh and she almost felt a pang when she realised that he was not wearing any rings. That did not last long, for Harry started pounding into her with a force so brutal that had her moaning under him, her body acting without her command as her other leg hit the mattress in order to buck her hips.

Harry tatted amused before he took both her legs and placed them over his hips while he was still on his knees and Y/N lifted her gaze to see the fern tattoos poking between her thighs. When he took the first thrust in that position, the angle it gave multiplied their pleasure by far and she was in awe at the deep throaty moan that he released. Harry’s hands gripped her hips so hard that she knew that in the morning she would find bruises in the shape of his fingers.

Harry felt like his hands couldn’t get enough of her and they flattered every time they stayed in one part of her body for too long. He couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to explore her whole body in just one night. Complying to his wish, Harry ran his hands up to her sides, her breasts until they reached her open neck, begging for a hand around it. With his left hand around the delicate skin of her throat and his right hand playing with her nipple, he stared at the girl underneath him with awe in his eyes. His stare scanned her pleasure-ridden face, they way her own eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowing, but her hands blindly searched for him, wanting to be in contact with him as one of them dug in the skin of his shoulder while the other gripped the wrist around her neck and pushing it further.

“Open your eyes for me baby, let me see those eyes that I missed,” Harry commanded desperate to catch her gaze.

Her hairline had gathered bids of sweat and she whined at his words, but in the end, although with difficulty, Y/N managed to open her eyes meeting his intense stare. Her mouth let airy moans free every time that his hips rolled forwards to meet her own.

“You feel so fucking amazing love,” he moaned in the space between them and raised her body so that she was stranding his lap. Y/N cried out at the prospect of being separated from him even for a second, but Harry managed to remain inside her, his pride swelling at the reaction of his lover.

“You love it when I am this deep in you,” he continued and Y/N felt like she had lost the ability to talk.

“It’s okay sweetheart because you know I love it too,” Harry soothed her back as she set a rhythm riding him.

“I can always feel you so deep Harry, so deep, all the way to my tummy,” she managed to croak out and dragged his hand to the place she felt him the most. Harry groaned at her filthy words, barely holding it together as he buried his face in her neck, biting where her pulse beat like a hummingbird.

“It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I last fucked you, I can always remember how you feel, baby,” his voice was like velvet in her ears and she found herself going fasted at his words.

“I can always feel you for days when you are like this,” Y/N whispered in his ear, a few curls tickling her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Harry bragged and she swore that she could almost hear the smirk on his lips they way she heard the wet noises their skin made when it collided as it bounced off the walls along with the groans he released because of her. For a few moments she focused solely on that and how dirty and raw and passionate it felt, and it was enough to drive her out of her mind.

“Harry,” Y/N warned the pressure in her lower stomach like a knot begging for release.

“I know,” he replied, letting his hand down to where they were connected and rubbed small circles on the small bundle of nerves.

Her thrusts were becoming sloppy and it took all of Harry’s concentration or at least what was left of it since he could feel her clenching around him, to keep them up. He latched his mouth on her nipple, the other hand around her waist to guide himself harder into her as she finally found her high with a gasp, almost like she couldn’t believe the power of it. After a few seconds, she was trembling in his arms and tried to shut her legs further to get Harry’s hand of her overstimulated part. Harry ignored her and continued stroking her, prying those thighs apart as he watched himself get lost into her. Y/N cried out and off her tongue rolled Harry’s name time and time again.

So close to his own high, Harry got lost in her moans and became more aware of her presence on him. The way her hands pulled on the strands of his hair hard like they were the anchor that kept her from falling to pieces and the way her shallow breaths hit his face as she calmed down from her orgasm while also being aware of him pounding into her still, the way she clenched her legs around him and she opened her eyes again, begging could be seen in them but this time it was not for her own finish but for his. Harry felt overwhelmed from all the senses and was so close it was painful.

“Please cum for me baby, please cum inside me,” Y/N whimpered in her soft voice and that was all he needed before he spilled in her, short desperate thrusts as he rested his head on her collarbone, taking in her vanilla perfume and felt her arms wrapping around his neck holding him impossibly close while ripple after ripple of pleasure took over his body. His thrusting stopped and Harry felt spent as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal.

Harry gathered Y/N in his arms and laid her carefully on the bed after removing himself from inside her even though she whimpered due to sensitivity and he took the place right next to her. They faced each other, their breaths mixing together as they relaxed in each other’s presence. Harry raised a hand to push away the hairs getting in Y/N’s face and she hummed in appreciation.

“God, I barely remember what year we have,” she frowned and opened her eyes at the sound of his laughter.

“I do believe that it is 1940,” he mused and her face regained a rosy colour at the game long forgotten.

“I… You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered trying to avoid his gaze.

Harry head turned in question. “Pretend what? I am only a soldier coming back from the battlefield to make love to the woman I love.”

Y/N blushed.

“Because it seems she holds a deep fascination for men in army apparel,” Harry continued and smirked when she mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that sweetheart?” he asked and when he received no answer he dipped his hand between her thighs hissing at the wetness of her mixing with his release as he plunged two fingers in her.

Y/N yelped, “Not every man, just you,” she confessed and Harry satisfied moved his fingers lazily.

“Although I appreciate the welcome home, you have not offered me anything to eat,” he frowned and he knew that if it wasn’t for his fingers pinning her down she would have leaped up to order him something to eat.

“What would you like?” Y/N asked with difficulty because of the sensation he caused her.

“Well I see that you have a whole feast here already waiting for me,” he retorted and pulled his fingers away.

At her confused gaze, Harry whispered hotly in her ear, “Although I could never forget how tight you feel around me love, nothing really reminds me of the way your pussy taste under me,”

And with that, he pushed her legs open and dived between then before she could even atter a word of surprise.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #Dunkirk!Harry #Harry styles in dunkirk #Harry styles kink

284 notes · View notes