#today is also a very chilled day so fingers fucking crossed that i can write fucking something today

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

We are ✨️day drinking✨️

[aonorunic]

The Claiming - An Original Work for Monster March

Summary: Sheen knows her time is short, knows that if she wants to save her home she must undergo a sacred rite to obtain the power she needs. As a druid, Sheen also knows exactly what that rite entails. She can only hope that a spirit powerful enough to help her answers her call.

Characters: Sheen (Druid)/Forest Spirit

Rating: Explicit

Contains: Sex Magic, Druids, Monster Fucking

AO3

Notes: The only entry I think I’ll be able to finish for Monster March. I’ve had Sheen in my head for awhile, and am really glad I finally got to write a bit for her backstory. I know I usually do more fandom stuff, but I hope you guys enjoy this slice of original work.

Sheen felt no fear as she crossed that familiar threshold between dirt and moss. The trees had always acted as a barrier between the world she was born into and the one to which she felt drawn. For as long as she could remember the mothers of the village told stories of things that lurked in the forest, ready to snatch disobedient children into the dark boughs never to be seen again. Yet as those old swaying limbs wrapped around her, Sheen felt more a homecoming than a capture.

Her bare feet picked a trail she had walked a thousand times, eyes and ears alert. Here she was both predator and prey. As comfortable as she was, she knew better than to let her guard down; especially today of all days when she would walk further into the forest than she had ever gone before.

A sharp breath sucked between her teeth when her foot met the chill of a stream. Winter was past, the blossoms of spring dotting the land, but the last of its chill held on, its stranglehold loosened one finger at a time. Sheen took a moment to bend down, cupping the water between her hands and taking a slow sip, allowing that chill to travel through her. The stream moved too quickly for her to see her reflection, nothing more than a blur of her dusk kissed skin and loose ravenwing hair tucked behind her pointed ears. The sharp edges of her elven features were indistinct in the water, the gaze of her grey eyes hidden. She stood, shaking off her momentary pause and pulling the bear pelt closer around her shoulders. There was a task needing done. She had come this far, studied all these years. She would not be denied now.

Further and further into the forest she went, pausing only once more as the ancient trees blocked out all sunlight. This was the barrier she had made for herself, the line she knew she could not cross before she was ready to trade with powers far older than she could comprehend. Today she would do so, else the forest truly would consume her.

Sheen took a deep breath, reaching out to place a hand upon the trunk of a tree. The bark felt familiar beneath her fingers, the knots and tangles mapped out in her mind from the years of reaching this point. But she had always turned back. Not today. 

All it took was a single step.

She paused as she crossed the invisible line she had created for herself, but nothing happened. No terrifying creature came to eat her, no force of nature knocked her off her feet. The steps after felt easier, despite that each took her closer to what may very well be her doom.

And then she reached it, the clearing her mother had once told her of before she had disappeared from Sheen’s life. Even without her mother’s tale Sheen would know she had come to the right place. Branches wove together overhead, reaching the impossibly long distance to their fellows upon the other side of the clearing to create a canopy that blanketed out the sky. Thick moss coated the trunks of every tree, the heavy scent of both decay and growth clouding around her. Grass, thick and soft beneath her feet, grew in a spiral pattern until it shortened and disappeared in the center of the clearing, leaving only a bare patch of dirt. 

Sheen’s eyes swept over the open space, her instincts screaming at her to run. Here she was only prey. With one final deep breath she steeled her nerves, allowing the bear pelt to drop from her shoulders. The rest of her clothes followed, Sheen taking the time to fold them into a neat pile. Perhaps the action was fruitless, nothing more than a stalling tactic, but they were the last moments that were solely hers. 

Completely bare, Sheen faced her goal, the wind stilling with the first step she took beyond the perceived safety of the trees. Their eyes were upon her. She had felt them since the moment she had stepped into the woods, as if they had sensed her intention for coming today, but now there was no cover in which to hide. 

She would not be cowed. She refused. Sheen took each slow step, forcing her limbs not to shiver, to not show the predator her fear, until she stood center within the barren circle. With the same deliberate movements, Sheen knelt and stared straight ahead.

The woods whispered around her, a half second off beat. The crickets chirped in time with one another, a hesitation to the notes that crawled across her skin. Wind strained through the branches, as if scared to carry out its duties. 

A power unlike anything she had felt before crept closer with each step. All the inconsistencies, the reverence of the forest bending toward it, heralded its coming. Sheen struggled for breath as this new darkness came upon her, drawing upon the calm she had felt when first stepping into the forest.

Within that breath power draped around her, wooden fingers settling on her shoulder. Sheen forced herself to gaze forward, knowing if she were to satiate her curiosity it would spell her end. She thought perhaps one of the great animal spirits would answer her, or perhaps one of the more fickle plant sprites. But this was neither. Sheen knew what had answered her beyond any doubt. There was only one being who could command the whole forest like this.

The spirit of the forest themself had come to claim her.

“Long has it been since a druid last sat in this circle and dared to seek our approval.” The voice was the roll of thunder, the trickle of the brook, rolling hills and blooming flower, all rolled into one. Sheen’s fingers curled into fists pressed flat against her legs. Nails bit into skin, the pain a focus to distract from the trembles that wished to run free throughout her bones. 

“She is a hunter,” another voice answered from the edge of the clearing. Sheen caught yellow eyes glaring at her from amongst the trees. Bear, her mind whispered. Given the placement of those eyes the great spirit was easily twice the size of any bear she had come across before.

“An invader,” another voice whispered, hooked thorns raking over Sheen. The trees around her twisted with the words, a trick of the wind to anyone else, but she recognized the truth of the dryad that had joined them.

“Well,” the first voice breathed against her ear, the low rumble stealing the breath from Sheen’s lungs, “what makes you worthy, little druid?”

Sheen took a deep breath, eyes falling closed. This was her trail, everything she had worked for since she first set foot within these woods. She need only claim it. 

Eyes opening, fists unclenched, Sheen stared forward. The fingers against her shoulder remained, the spirit’s patience as unbending as the oak. 

“I have spent my life under your boughs. Though I may be young as a seedling compared to you, these woods have been home and teacher for that short time. I have learned to hunt, yes, from the great bears and wolves sheltered within. I have learned to grow from each tree and flower encountered upon my path. I refute the title of invader. Were you to see me as such you would have chased me away long before now.”

Sheen paused, listening to the growls of grumbles of the woods around her. Always her place was within the forest. For the first time she felt trepidation, the fear it would all turn against her. 

There was a breeze, nothing more, but the chattering died down in its wake. The spirit behind her leaned closer, wood ghosting against her back. Sheen knew they were the cause, an order she could scarcely perceive nor be concerned with. No, she had received her own order to follow, that simple movement beckoning her onward.

“I offer no less than the life you have watched play out before you.”

She bowed her head, allowing the silence to wash over her. Nothing stirred, the forest deathly quiet in answer to her offer.

The moon wheeled above them, Sheen watching the light travel across the clearing. The forest was old, they would move at their own pace and there was nothing Sheen could do to speed the process.

When the spirit finally spoke again their voice sounded of roots ripping from the soft dirt. “And what would you do with my power were it granted to you?”

There it was, the reason Sheen had decided she could not put off her request any longer. “I would be your intermediary,” she answered. No longer did she wish to tremble before the power surrounding her. She could feel it now, the acceptance she first felt when she had first stepped into the woods as a starry eyed child. 

“We need no intermediary!” Bear growled, his voice shaking the trees around him.

“You would dare speak for us?” Dryad hissed, shaking her boughs in rage.

“You claimed me long ago,” Sheen answered their outburst, her words directed to the forest spirit. “Did I misinterpret? Was this not meant to be my home? If it is, let me help you save it now. None of you can leave, but I can. And with your power I can find the source of the darkness creeping at the edges of our home.”

Hiss and growl faded away. Every being seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the forest spirit’s answer. Sheen doubted that anyone had the audacity to ask the spirit a question before. Perhaps in doing so Sheen had betrayed too much of her mortality. 

Or perhaps she had proven she was exactly what they needed.

“You are correct,” the spirit finally answered. “I did welcome you and your starry eyed wonder those seasons ago. Even then I felt the love already building within you for our home.”

Our home.

She had not known how desperately she had wanted to hear that acknowledged.

“A claiming could destroy you,” the spirit warned, offering one last chance for her to turn away. 

Sheen could not help the smirk that tugged at her lips. The forest was not that generous. They would not have offered her the chance to turn away had they not already known her answer. She kept her reverent pose, unmoved in her determination.

The world faded away at the spirit’s pleased grumble. Sheen knew they were still there, would watch this claiming, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the force of nature around her.

Wooden fingers creaked, closing around Sheen’s sides. She was urged forward onto her hands and knees, breath catching as the spirit spread her legs. She finally let herself tremble as the hands that were more branch than anything else slid down her sides. Heat rushed into her cheeks as need and desire filled her, Sheen embarrassed by just how quickly she reacted. 

The spirit thrust into her without preamble. Sheen gasped at the intrusion, body rigid as her fingers curled into the dirt beneath her. She had learned long ago that nature was not kind and had not expected any preamble to this claiming. 

The spirit slowly pulled from her, Sheen more prepared when they thrust back into her again. She forced herself to keep her breath steady, body slowly adjusting with each movement. 

Even in this the forest would not be hurried, and Sheen was glad for it. Her body began to crave, that desire rising to the forefront once more as she grew used to the feel of her stretching around them. She rocked in rhythm with the spirit, the branches of their body closing around her. And despite all that, the appendage within her was large and hot. The warmth of it chased away the chill in the night air, leaving Sheen drowning in the claiming. 

All too soon Sheen felt waves crashing over her, a riptide current threatening to pull her under. Too soon, she knew, much too soon. She could feel power swelling, could feel the brush of it against her skin, but it had yet to settle. 

Too soon. 

The riptide pulled her under, Sheen gasping and shaking as pleasure rushed through her body. She could feel the disappointment even as she struggled back through a haze of contentment. She would not fail here at the end. 

She would not be satiated by failure.

Sheen was left empty, fingers crawling at the dirt as she fought off the clouds that wished to claim her mind. She could hear the forest around her, knew she was prey once more if she did not act fast. If she could not move then everything she loved would be swallowed in darkness. 

No!

There was a pain in her throat, leaving Sheen uncertain if the word had ripped its way from her throat or simply screamed its echo in her mind. Either way it did not matter. 

Dirt clung to her, rocks scrapped against her, power pressed her down. Sheen struggled against it all, managing to prop one arm under herself. 

Just as she felt the void screaming up to meet her, Sheen did something no mortal had ever done before.

She flipped herself over, back smacking against the packed earth of the ritual circle, and stared up at the spirit of the forest.

Their head was a deer skull, dark pools within empty sockets staring down into her. Antlers twisted upward to frame the stars, taller than Sheen herself. Woods of every tree that grew within the forest twisted together to make their form. Between the branches Sheen could see small flower buds. A curtain of moss fell over their shoulders to create a cloak. For now they stood upon two legs, but Sheen could easily imagine them dropping onto all fours and being no less graceful. Between the growth Sheen spotted the still erect cock that a few moments ago had been within her. It was a dark green with sap dripping from its bulbous head, vines twisted together to form the massive length. Sheen was honestly quite surprised it had even fit within her. 

“Not yet,” Sheen spat between parched lips. She forced her arms up, reaching out inviting to the spirit. “I am not done yet.” 

The power they had already pooled within her tore at her, unchecking and wanting to destroy her. She needed them to settle the storm within her before it ripped her apart.

The forest whispered, their subjects surprised at her audacity, but Sheen heard an undercurrent of emotions she could not quite place, be it pride or pleasure. It was just for her and the spirit to which she had offered everything. 

They bent down over her, once more shutting out the rest of the forest. Sheen’s legs fell to the side, somehow not surprised when the spirit’s large bulk fit perfectly within her offered space. Her arms wrapped around moss covered shoulders, pulling her lover closer. The skull loomed above her, and Sheen once more gave into her mortal instincts. She kissed the lipless face, hand raising up to cup the bone cheek. Amusement ran through her but not from her. Her body clenched around them as their cock entered her once more, the strange emotions, ancient and undefined, of the forest shared with her.

Those same slow thrusts came again, Sheen’s hips rising up to meet them. She gasped as the flow of power stirred once more. The tearing sensation stopped, replaced with the whisper of ancient secrets that wound their way through her soul. Her body burned where they touched her, branches containing the heat of wildfires as they marked her skin. Wooden fingers ghosted down her spine, Sheen’s back arched under the touch, bringing her chest in contact with the spirit’s. They surrounded her, Sheen offering everything to them as the spirit moved within her, amusement licking along her senses. She could almost swear the spirit was laughing at her, but she did not care. In that moment she knew her essence was tangled forever with that of the being that had welcomed her home. 

Sheen gasped as the spirit pulled her to them, body curling as they thrust deeper into her. She was lost in the tangled limbs that encompassed her. They had created a space for her devoid of all predators, where no danger would dare touch her. They thrust into her, once more that tortuously slow pace that had Sheen curling and begging for more. 

It felt different this time, a tease rather than a test. The spirit would undo her yet again, but they went at her pace. They meant to make this journey with her. She could not stop her hands from reaching out, cupping the smoothness of their skull. They moved with her when Sheen urged them closer, bringing their forehead to rest against hers. Her breath mingled with the air surrounding the spirit, the sweet scent of wild flowers steadying her heart. She knew this scent, knew the exact clearing in which they grew. With the spirit's next thrust, Sheen could swear she felt every petal and blade of grass that grew within that clearing.

The spirit nuzzled against her, more curious than affectionate. They measure her gasps, feelings of acceptance and amusement the easiest for Sheen to understand. But her partner's emotions were as ancient as the boughs themselves. Sheen could only begin to wrap her fingers around the enormity of what the spirit shared with her. 

Another thrust, thankfully faster this time, as the spirit slammed itself deep within her. One of Sheen's hands dropped to the ground, fingers clawing at the dirt. She felt , digging deep down into fertile soil, spreading out for miles and miles.

The spirit hummed their pleasure, pleasure derived from her, and in its wake Sheen heard birdsong. Nightingale and sparrow, owl and falcon, robin and jay, all sang within her as they went about their routines. 

Sheen's hips rolled up, meeting the next thrust, wooden limbs scraping the insides of her thighs. The hand still upon the spirit curled around the back of their neck, trees bending toward them as Sheen's senses connected with them. She heard the sigh from Dryad, that whispered hiss full of a strained acceptance. There were words, but all were driven away in the wake of the spirit's claim. 

Limbs came down to cup her backside, lifting Sheen to meet the next thrust powerful enough to knock the air from her lungs. Bear grumbled as Sheen forced air back into her lungs, his strength flowing into her and making Sheen acutely aware of each silent step from the creatures that roamed under bough and bush. 

There was something there, something beyond her ability to explain. The closest her mind could conjure was pride, but she knew the limitations of her language could not fully define what she felt pouring into her from the spirit. With each thrust another aspect of the forest connected to her. Sheen held onto the spirit, her focus and anchor, knowing to lose herself now was to lose everything. 

The thrusts came faster, Sheen's fingers digging into soft moss as she forced herself to hold on. It built upon itself until Sheen could feel herself begin to slip. She ground her teeth, body trembling as the spirit drove her closer and closer back to that edge. It was too much, a cacophony drowning her, power nipping at every nerve in her body. 

Her scream ripped through her, a release of desire and power that left the forest silent in its wake. Warmth engulfed her, the sun shimmering through leaves at the height of summer. It was the completion she had needed, the spirit's power finally settling over her in their acceptance.

Through hazy eyes Sheen managed to stare up into the dark pools of the spirit's gaze. They were patient, waiting the long moments it took Sheen to catch her breath, the air all the sweeter in her lungs after the claiming's success. Eventually Sheen managed to move her shaky legs, allowing them to drop away from the spirit's center. She had not realized just how much she had wrapped herself around them. 

The spirit moved back, their warmth slipping free from Sheen. She trembled as their cock softened and slipped from her, the heat of their seed lingering against her thighs. The spirit offered Sheen a hand, and as she accepted the touch of those branches her mind vaguely wondered at the difference. She could have sworn her hand had been smaller compared to theirs. 

Sheen found herself pulled to her feet, and knew immediately the discrepancy lay with her and not the spirit.  Her head easily came to the spirit's chest now. Leaning upon her partner, Sheen managed to stare down upon her body, seeing the tangled marks that criss crossed her skin, left behind in the wake of the spirit's touch. 

Her head felt much too heavy when she managed to lift it once more. Sheen had to resist the urge to reach up, something that felt rather undignified with the whole of the woods looking upon her, and instead had to settle for staring at her shadow cast long against the grass by the dying moonlight. Elongated antlers topped the shadow, a smaller but no less impressive set to the spirit that stood beside her. 

Breath in. Breath out. Sheen forced herself to simply focus on the air in her lungs as she was presented to the forest. A rumble went through them, an acknowledgement of the connection she now shared with them. She had no idea how long they stood there, the spirit patient as they always were, but Sheen was grateful she managed to keep her footing through it all. 

Only when the echoes of power began to fade away, the marks and antlers shimmering from existence, the spirit now all the taller to her, did they finally let her kneel once more within the circle. 

Moss had grown in the wake of the spirit's spilled seed. Sheen let herself drop, knowing she had nothing to fear. When she woke her journey to protect all she loved would begin anew, her chances all the better with the spirit's blessings at her fingertips. 

As she drifted off, cloaked in the comfort of the forest's strength still singing in her soul, Sheen could swear she felt the touch of gentle branches brushing her hair back. 

[ptergwen]

no sleep

pairing: singer!reader x tom holland || w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and many many many suggestive jokes

summary: you’re on jimmy kimmel to talk about your music, but he has other plans

a/n: y’all i’ve literally always wanted to write singer!reader and this idea just came to me and i had to get it out because it’s so cute :,) i really hope ya like it

-

jimmy kimmel invited you onto his show to promote a single from your upcoming album. you stepped out of the spotlight for a while, so this is your first official appearance of the year.

“my first guest tonight...” there’s a cheer from the audience. you grin to yourself, waiting for jimmy to finish announcing you.

“you wanna say it for me?” he chuckles and stands your picture up on his desk. “my first guest tonight surprised fans this morning with her new single ‘no sleep.’ it’s currently number one in over seventy countries.” jimmy holds for applause, which you get a ton of. you cover your hot face with your hands.

“she’s here to talk to us about the song and her short hiatus. please welcome y/n y/l/n!”

the music plays while you walk onstage, followed by more cheers and clapping. you’re beaming as you wave to everyone. you give jimmy a quick hug and exchange hello’s over the noise.

you’ve been in the industry for a few years, but you’ll never get used to responses like this. all the love really warms your heart.

“thank you!” you giggle out, taking your seat on the couch. the audience yells some more when the music dies out. “thank you so much! oh my god,” you make a face at jimmy, who laughs and gestures to everyone. “they clearly hated the song,” he jokes to you. “i was gonna say,” you agree, smoothing your dress down.

you look out at the crowd with a pout. “no, seriously. you guys are so cute.” jimmy copies your pout, earning a playful eye roll from you.

you’ve been on the show a couple of times before, so you two are friendly. tom has also brought you to chill backstage with him when he was a guest. you would’ve brought him this time if he wasn’t away for filming.

“so, you took most of the year off from making music,” jimmy starts the actual conversation. “mhm, i did,” you hum and cross one of your legs over the other. “how was that? was it weird not being in the studio?” you scrunch your face up, then he adds another question. “what did you actually do with yourself?”

“i mean, music is obviously a big part of who i am. making it, loving it, all that stuff.” a small smile crosses your face. “so, yeah. it sort of felt like something was missing at first.” jimmy nods along, you shrugging one of your shoulders.

“at the same time, i really needed to take a minute and just breathe. come back with my shit more together. i think i have,” you let out a reflective sigh. “it didn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend? a mr. tom holland?” jimmy teases, you waving a hand at him. “no, don’t give him all the credit.”

your break genuinely was for yourself. no one needs to know that tom was also off, or that he spent all his free time with you. that was just a plus.

“are you sure? because, it seemed like you two were getting really cozy.” a picture from your instagram pops up on the screen. it’s of tom under a blanket. he’s reaching out for you with a lazy smile. you lean over on the couch so you’re off camera, another giggle escaping you.

jimmy flips to another picture. “that was exhibit A. here’s exhibit B.” the whole audience coos, jimmy raising his eyebrows at you. this one is a mirror selfie from tom’s instagram. your arms are slung around his neck from behind, and half your face is hidden. tom is doing his signature eye crinkling smile into the camera.

“aren’t they just adorable?” jimmy asks the audience, making them erupt in more cheers. you sit up again and clear your throat. seeing those is bittersweet for you. “he’s very cuddly. anyway, back to the music!” you do a small clap. little do you know, there’s much more to come.

“yes, yes. back to the music. talk to me about ‘no sleep.’” the song is one hundred percent about tom. you’re not sure you should say that, considering the... explicit content in it. you and tom did get very cozy over your break, as jimmy would say. it was the only time you weren’t relaxing.

“well,” you plaster on an overly happy smile. that earns more laughter from jimmy. “it’s about what you do in bed when you’re, um, not sleeping,” you explain. “and who do you do those things in bed with?” jimmy glances up at the screen again. “you’re choosing violence today, jimmy,” you say under your breath.

there’s a chuckle from backstage that sounds eerily similar to tom’s. it must have been a PA. all this talk about him is seriously fucking with your head.

“well, everyone in my life inspires my work in some way. they’re such angels,” you dodge the question, thinking you’re clever about it. jimmy won’t let you get off that easy. “friends? family?” he asks you. “yeah, everyone,” you exhale in relief. jimmy widens his eyes at you. “so, that means ‘no sleep’ is about your mom?”

your mouth falls open. he’s really going to make you spill the details of your sex life.

“what the fuck, no!” you squeal, looking out into the audience for help. they join in your laughter. “it’s about tom,” you finally confirm so jimmy doesn’t suggest anything else. “it’s about tom, my god. next topic.” you’re smiling despite yourself.

“why? don’t you wanna tell us more about your lover?” jimmy glances off to the side. what is going on back there? you sit up straighter in your spot. “no, this is my interview!” you’re half joking, half serious.

although you and tom aren’t private at all, you’ve never talked about him this much. it’s overwhelming. besides that, this is making you miss him a lot.

“that’s too bad. we thought... we thought you might like to share it,” jimmy is already grinning about whatever he has planned. this isn’t supposed to be part of your segment. “huh? i’m literally so lost.” you furrow your eyebrows at him, lowering your voice. “we didn’t talk about this.”

he pats the arm of your couch. “they say there’s no time like the present. ladies and gentlemen, tom holland!”

on cue, tom runs out from backstage. the audience practically roars with how loud they are. people even jump out of their seats. you clasp a hand over your mouth in pure shock. this feels like a prank, like jimmy is about to say sike. then, tom comes up to the couch. you almost fall over, jimmy proudly watching on.

tom grins so wide it takes up his whole face. “happy release day,” he murmurs as you get to your feet. you’re not able to speak just yet, only staring up at him with glossy eyes. he brings you into a tight hug. his hands rub up and down your back, your arms snaking around his middle.

“tommy,” you try to whisper the nickname. you forgot your microphone is on. everyone “aw’s” at you both, including jimmy. “my love,” tom’s lips brush your cheek briefly. “hi, baby,” he speaks into your ear. you hide your face in his button up while he rocks you side to side.

he’s been away for a couple of months working on the third spider-man. this is the first time you’ve seen him since he left.

“shouldn’t you be in atlanta?” you ask louder this time for the audience to hear. you’re still doing an interview. “today’s a big day. i had to see you,” tom gives you one last squeeze. “in person,” he adds, before you can say you already facetimed.

the fact that him and jimmy put this whole thing together is making you emotional. you’d be fully crying if you two were alone right now.

“she doesn’t want you here, though. remember?” jimmy chimes in, tom breathing out a laugh. he sadly lets go of you. you flop back onto the couch, tom pointing behind him with his thumb. “i’ll just be on my way. five hour flight, no big deal.” “no, no, no, no. stay,” you whine and make grabby hands at him.

that’s all it takes for tom to slip into the spot next to you. he bites back a smile, putting an arm around you and the couch. you don’t want to annoy everyone with too much pda, so you subtly curl into his side. the people actually love you and tom together. jimmy claps his hands.

“we’ll be right back with y/n y/l/n and tom holland!” he says into the camera, the band playing more filler music. he steps out from behind the desk to greet tom. tom stands up, the two of them giving each other pats on the back. the camera stops rolling.

“hey, man. thanks for doing this,” tom puts a hand on jimmy’s arm. “anything for the happy couple. i’m gonna get some water, see you in five.” jimmy shoots you another smile on his way to his dressing room. you return it. that leaves you and tom to yourselves.

“baby,” you say in a sing song voice, dropping your head onto tom’s shoulder. “i’m so happy you’re here. i real life almost peed when you came out.” tom snakes his arm around your waist. “that would be upsetting,” he mumbles, his index finger drawing circles on you. “it would’ve ruined your very pretty dress.”

“you like it?” you knowingly tug at the form fitting material. tom shifts in his spot. “i’ll tell you what,” he leans in closer to you with a smirk, his breath tickling your ear. “we’re getting no sleep tonight,” he sings from the chorus of your song. you burst into a giggle and squeeze your eyes shut.

he ends up being right.

[alyss01]

hihi! i thought abt this last night, but i fell asleep before typing jt lol-

so, non comfy cartel ask bc i'm dumb no plot

so just regular bb sykunno lol

alright now- reader lives with sykunno, no one knows this. reader says they have a boyfriend, and no one knows who it is. they also have explicitly said that they don't have corpse merch. so they're streaming, wearing sykunno's corpse merch, and sykunno peeks his head in after he did all of his among us tasks after being killed first and goes to hug them and be very clingy bc i feel like clingy-kunno would be so fricken cute, and then since proximity, he says, while chat's freaking out, something along the lines of 'can i have my hoodie back baby?' and everyone in the proximity just goes dead fricken silent and then reader and syk start laughing and explain themselves.

<33 have a good day!!

|[Relationship reveal]|

[Sykkuno x GN! reader]

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

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.3K

Requested: yes

Synopsis: When you’re streaming among us, Sykkuno comes in to see you in his Corpse hoodie. Your relationship with him gets revealed and he stayes with you through the rest of the stream.

Warnings: 1 curse word, other than that just fluff

A/n: so guess who accidentally deleted the written one shot when it was nearly done? ..... I tried to write it again as accurately as the first time but I’m sorry for the hold up. I’m always down for some Sykkuno fluff though. Why do I feel like i only just figured out that's it's spelled Sykkuno instead of Sykunno??

Masterlist

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

You started up stream, greeting the people that streamed into the chat as you explained that you would stream among us for a bit with Toast's lobby.

It was hard to keep up with the chat as it raced past, your eyes scanning the messages as they raced by.

Multiple people noted on the black hoodie you wore. The black fabric with the red print was easily recognisable as they asked if your corpse hoodie had finally come in.

It had become somewhat of an inside joke within your community, you often complained that the post office was screwing you over on purpose because your hoodie was the last to come in out of all your friend group.

"Yea, I guess you could say that" you addressed it with a small smile on our face, entirely forgetting to change out of Sykkuno's hoodie you had pulled on that morning.

Leaving the topic what it was, you joined the among us lobby and discord call.

You could see that Sykkuno had also already arrived in the little space ship, a Corpse mask on his little avatar as he stood beside him.

A small grin formed on your face as you selected the green striped scarf for your little avatar to wear.

In the meantime you watched chat with a side eye before you'd have to stop reading as the round begun. You muted yourself in the discord call as you thanked some new subs and donators.

The chat flashed with questions about your boyfriend, you had announced your relationship only recently but left the identity of him in the dark.

Your fans didn't know it was Sykkuno yet, but the two of you had decided it would be alright to reveal your relationship relatively soon, the fans were bound to find out one way or another and both of you preferred it being on your own terms.

The game started as you wished the others luck, clicking away the chat as you focussed on your tasks around the spaceship.

Sykkuno's little avatar walked away with Corpse to another part of the spaceship as you joined Rae with her tasks.

It was quite a peaceful round in your opinion, you ended up sharing a lot of tasks with Rae so you walked almost the entire time with each other.

The two of you talked about the food you'd be ordering after the game, discussing different cuisines and deciding on your favourites and comparing them with one another.

That peace however was disturbed as a meeting was called, teleporting you to the meeting room. You looked to see who had died, only to see the small avatar of Sykkuno crossed out at the bottom of the screen.

"Who could do such a thing!" You gasped loudly as your group started discussing.

You accused Corpse since you had seen them leave dropship together, "We split up at medbay, it could've literally been anyone."

"His body was in specimen." Toast pointed out.

"Could've been a self-report." Rae continued as the two of you vouched for one another.

“If its in specimen and Corpse left Sykkuno in medbay, then it has to be an older kill right?” Lily asked as the rest of you hummed in response.

Sykkuno could hear your bickering as he approached your streaming room. He had died relatively early in the round and had enough time as a ghost to finish his tasks.

He knocked softly on your door, in response to Rae's newest argument you hummed in agreement.

Sykkuno opened the door in response, you couldn't see him approach but as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind you couldn't help but lean back into his touch.

"So there my hoodie went, I was looking for it." You pecked his cheek from the side as he rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you had expected the mic to pick up his words, but the way the among us lobby silenced immediately had said enough.

"Wait what the fuck? Is Sykkuno unmuted?" Lily was the first to break the silence.

Chuckles escaped your mouth as you started laughing, leaning back into your chair and into Sykkuno's hold as you laughed louder.

Beside you Sykkuno grew red as he realized what had happened, awkward chuckles joining yours as you explained to the group what was going on.

By then the meeting had ended, teleporting you back to the meeting room where you could hear your friends loudly talk over one another.

A smile was plastered on your face as you quickly turned around, pulling up a chair beside you for Sykkuno so he could stay in your room for at least the current game.

You couldn't see chat because of among us, but you knew they were most likely going insane at the news.

Sykkuno sat down beside you, his arm snaking around your waist as he pecked your cheek. As you handed him a secondary set of earphones that laid on your desk and connected them to your desktop, you repositioned your microphone to hang in between the two of you.

When your friends had congratulated you and calmed down you went on with the game, staying by Corpse's side this time as he spoke up, "So that hoodie was Sykkuno's all along"

"In my defence, it was cold and the sweater was warm. Simple math." He chuckled as Sykkuno laid his head on your shoulder, watching your monitor with a small smile on his face.

"I could've kept your hoodie behind as well and delivered it with Sykkuno's," he stopped mid-sentence as his avatar stopped moving as well, "wait but how come I didn’t see you when I brought Sykkuno's merch over?"

Sykkuno was faster to answer him as he spoke up from beside you, softly pulling you tighter against him, "Y/n went out with friends that day, didn't want to make you uncomfortable or overwhelmed or anything."

Corpse laughed softly, making a smile form both your and Sykkuno's face as you continued your tasks, "It would've been fine, but thank you for being so considerate."

You pulled Sykkuno's hand on the mouse on your desk so he could control the character on the screen partially so you could wrap your arm over his shoulder as your hand found his hair.

Your fingers tangled between the locks on the back of his head, gently messaging his scalp as a small satisfied smile formed on his face at the gesture.

"Don’t mention it, if anything you'll now have an excuse to come over again." Corpse chuckled at your joke as Sykkuno finished your tasks while you walked the character around.

It took you a few hours to finish your stream, Sykkuno by your side the entire time as he hadn't been streaming anyway, only leaving briefly to leave the lobby on his own computer.

Your hand was clasped in his as you finished the stream, saying goodbye to your chat before going offline. Leaning back in your chair, Sykkuno brushed some hair out of your face with his free hand.

"How much do you want to bet that Twitter is blowing up right now?" you warily eyed your phone which laid screen down on the side of your desk.

A small laugh escaped his lips as he hand left yours, instead cupping your cheek and gently positioning your head to face him, "No matter what Twitter says, we'll be fine."

You gave him a small smile, "I know, I know," streams were exhausting and you couldn’t wait to just be able to hang on the couch with your boyfriend, "I'm glad it's out there. Now we won't have to be so secretive about everything anymore."

Sykkuno stood up, pulling you along with him and guiding you to your living room, "we can just order take out and chill today?"

You nodded your head, smiling at how well Sykkuno knew you by now, "I love you" you muttered as he pulled you onto the couch, other hand grabbing the remote to turn your tv on.

"I love you too."

[rae-gar-targaryen]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read part one here.

---

It doesn't snow in Santo Padre.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That had gone famously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I care, Frida.”

“... and if I wanted you back?”

“Please, querida.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he fucking serious? 

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t about to cave so easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. And you were doing so well. 

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel was silent for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are something, Frida.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded toward Angel’s arm once more.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How could something about you not be beautiful?"

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had outdone herself. You felt gorgeous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he only knew. 

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

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

And he saw you, too.

Oh fuck. 

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

He fucking wouldn’t. 

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

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

Fuck, you were hot when you were mad.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he … drunk? 

Fuck this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel flinched. 

“I deserve that,” he said. 

Strike two. Too little, too late. 

“You deserve more than that, Angel,” you chastised. “And now you’re still trying to take from me. Date-crashing? You tryna fuck this up for me, too? Haven’t you done enough fucking? So, what is it about me that says you can walk all over me? Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?” 

Shit. You’d said it at the party, and you were telling yourself again now -- you would not cry in front of Angel. So, why were there hot little slivers poking the corners of your eyes? Your heart felt heavy, sick. It was getting to be a familiar sensation -- like a friend who showed up to crash at the worst possible time. 

The appearance of your tears was sobering to Angel. He reached toward your side of the table in an attempt to brush your hand, to offer you some kind of comfort, even though he was the one you wanted to be comforted from. 

“No, Angel,” you wiped your cheeks and placed your hands in your lap, out of his reach.  “Why aren’t you listening to me? You tell me. How much more could you possibly take from me? There's nothing left,” you shuddered, sucking uneven air between your teeth before gesturing at his state. “I don’t care if you’re drunk, I don’t care if you’re broken. You can’t just walk in here like nothing, trying to tell me the same shit that didn’t land the first time. To what?  To give you my heart back when y-you broke it -- broke me -- first? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” 

Angel was stunned. But, as is the default, Angel deflected. His genuine remorse at your words buried beneath his childish need to lash out, like a child buries toys in a sandbox to spite the friend he won’t share with. 

“That's why you're out with that … What was his name? Chad? Tim? Awfully shiny duds that dude had on,” Angel continued, “He's so… not me."

Strike. Fucking. Three. 

"Possibly one of his best qualities," you snipped, venomously. “But this isn’t about him, and don’t act like it is. You keep trying this thing where you just want me to hear your broken record bullshit about how you want me back, how you wanna talk. But then you don’t say any shit of substance  And you certainly don’t hear a goddamn word I say back to you. That tells me you aren’t really ready to talk. And you don’t give a shit if I’m ready, either,” you bit. “I tried, Angel. To tell you a little bit of what I’m feeling? You don’t wanna hear it. You just want me to hear you -- even if you say nothing.”  

A little flurry of movement caught the corner of your eye, turning your head to see the waiter hovering awkwardly, clearly confused that the man sitting across from you was not the man he had seen you with all evening. 

You pushed back from your seat, standing and beckoning for the waiter to come over. 

"He's got the check," you gestured at Angel. 

You patted Angel’s leather-clad shoulder as you walked past him, toward the door. “Thanks, amor. Real classy of you, paying for a girl’s date, and all.”

Ice cold. 

You walked out of the restaurant as Christopher hung up his phone, turning to see the door swinging shut behind you, and you walking toward him. His sharp brow arched questioningly at your sudden appearance, opening his mouth to ask about the bill. 

“It’s taken care of,” you breezed before he could ask, “Let’s go. You said something about ice cream?” You looped your arm through his as the two of you made your way down the block. 

Inside the restaurant, Angel’s phone buzzed with a text from Coco asking him where the fuck he was, and what the fuck he was doing. 

But his mind was swimming. The verbal truths you’d laid into him wriggling beneath his skin to take residence in the part of his brain that kept him up at night. 

He looked down at his texts again. He honestly didn’t know how to answer. 

---

Then, after a bad night, there was nothing more you wanted than to see Angel, his presence always a balm to your frazzled nerves. His easy, (at times) childlike demeanor was refreshing, and brought a light into your day that you now realized had been long missing before you had moved down here. 

You were sitting on the couch in your living room, feet up on your coffee table, wearing your favorite joggers and oversized tee, the epitome of comfort. 

You had a crappy reality TV show on in the background while you tilted your head back, sheetmask on, the cooling gel seeping into your pores. Cleansing your face and your soul.  

You had texted Angel to come over. After this shit-show of a day, you could use the company. You understood it was late. You understood he may not be able to come over right away -- club shit. And wasn’t there always?

“Hasta pronto, Frida,” his last text had read. See you soon. 

That was over 45 minutes ago. You were antsy. You’d had a long day. Some dude at a consultation had rubbed you the wrong way -- the two of you not communicating your respective ideas together well. The idea that your artist’s brain couldn’t match his vision to deliver something itched at you, wrinkled your brain. You’d had no choice but to refer him to Oli. On top of that, he’d been leery with you. 

Your hands were tired, the fine bones in your fingers aching. And you sure as shit didn’t want to answer any more emails or DMs. You just wanted to lie here, sheetmask on. Unbothered. Your boyfriend’s presence would be a bonus, but he was late.  

Somewhere between your next episode of “90 Day Fiancee” and your umpteenth sigh, you heard it -- the telltale rumble of Angel’s bike making its way down your otherwise quiet street. 

At the gentle rap on your door, you solidified your puddle of comfortable bones long enough to slip off of your couch and make your way down the hall, unlatching it and opening the door, only to be greeted with the rapidly-horrified face of your boyfriend.

“Jesus fuck!” Angel yelped. 

Your body jolted at the shock of his shout, hand coming to your chest. 

“Sorry, Frida, didn’t mean to scare you, but…” he gestured at your face. “What the fuck is that?”

Oh. 

You brought your hand up to where the silvery-grey sheetmask was still resting atop your skin. You sighed, peeling the mask from your face slowly, revealing your dewy skin beneath. 

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, your heartbeat returning to normal.

You turned and made your way back down the hall, beckoning for Angel to follow, which he did, shutting the door of your place behind him. 

“Sorry about that,” you called over your shoulder as you tossed the mask in the trash beneath your sink. “I kinda forgot it was there.”

“Not for nothing, Frida, but that’s a hell of a home defense system.”

At the question in your eyes, Angel continued, kicking his boots off and shuffling his way into your living room. 

“If any serial killer ever shows up to fuck with you? All you gotta do is answer the door like that. He’ll think another murderer is already here,” at that he sucked air thorugh his teeth like Hannibal Lecter. “Hellooooo, Clarice,” he mimicked, laughing at his own joke and popping the button on his jeans to make himself comfortable as he slouched on the couch. 

“Bien,” you agreed, between a flurry of giggles. “Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that. Brilliant, Angelito.” 

You popped open your freezer to grab your jade roller, subsequently grabbing Angel a beer from the fridge. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Angel called from the other room. “Club shit ran long. Plus, you sounded kinda down when you messaged me. So I had to make a stop.” 

You peeked into the living room in time to see Angel pull a crinkling plastic bag of mini peanut butter cups from the deep pocket of his kutte, plopping the bag onto the coffee table. “I come bearing gifts.” 

You smiled to yourself in the kitchen, pleased as punch with Angel’s thoughtful gesture. You popped the cap on Angel’s beer, turning to bring the drink to him, simultaneously rolling the jade over your face in your other hand. 

“Gracias, amor,” he accepted the beer from you. “What’s this now?” He beckoned at the roller in your hands.

“It’s to help rub the product from the mask into my skin, plus it’s nice and cold -- keeps my face from getting puffy,” you explained. 

“I don’t understand why you females think you need alla that shit,” he said, taking a sip of your beer, turning his attention to your TV. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was following along the trainwreck of season six of “90 Day Fiancee” with you. Had his own couples he loved to hate. 

“We females,” you emphasized, “just aren’t afraid to prioritize self care, unlike you big, bad bikers. Seriously, Angelito, when was the last time you washed your face with something other than hand soap, or --” you gave an exaggerated shudder to drive home your point, “that shitty 16-in-one body wash/engine oil I know you keep in your shower.” 

Angel gave your shoulder a teasing little shove, ”Man, shut up. I bring you chocolate, and this is how you treat me?” 

Flirtation and sexual chemistry come easy to Angel. He was always blessed with an easy social grace, and women seemed to eat up the flirtatious attention. But anything more serious, and he becomes a blushing little boy, all shuffling feet, nervous smiles and awkward stuttering. There was some of that with you, he wouldn’t lie. But with you? Everything had a way of feeling so natural. 

“Oh, gracias, beautiful, generous, benevolent Angelito, god among men,” your voice was dramatic, teasing, you mocked bowing to him. 

“Okay, that’s enough outta you,” you grabbed your wrist, tugging you into his lap, tracing tickling fingers up your sides, causing you to writhe, shrieking through chiming laughter.  

Angel’s beer long-abandoned on the coffee table, your jade roller now dropped somewhere on the floor, you gazed into Angel’s face from your place reclining across his lap, chest heaving with the exertion of being tickled and laughing too much. 

For his part, Angel was looking down at you, brow softened in fondness for the woman before him, lightly trailing his hand along your cheeks. 

No one was laughing now, and the noise of the TV became an unimportant, staticky hum somewhere in the background to the moment you and Angel found yourselves in. 

You don’t know how you ended up beneath Angel on your couch. You were even less certain just when the two of you had absconded with your clothes. 

All you knew was that the heavy drag of him inside of you was resplendent, beyond words. Was it always like this with him?

And you? You were a brazen little thing, all gasping moans and dragging fingernails, urging Angel on with pleas and fluttering lashes. Your dedication to marking Angel’s back was admirable, and it’s not like he could honestly say he minded. He’d bear the battlescars of a night with you for eternity, if he could. 

As Angel thrust into you, all you could think about -- beyond the heated urgency of the way he was making you feel, was that he was perfect. 

The two of you basked in the after, awash in the blue-white glow of the TV screen still playing before you, skin now slightly sweaty and glistening in its own right, catching your breath together. The synchronicity of it all … music to you. 

You were both unfocused in your respective gaze’s on the television, just content to lie next to one another. Angel was stretched out on the couch behind you, unwrapping peanut butter cups, handing them to you piece by piece. This last one, he had pressed directly to your lips, which you had wrapped around the tips of his fingers, tongue following, as you accepted the candy. 

“Don’t start, Frida. I don’t know that I have the strength,” Angel said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Just once more, Angelito? You know I’ve had a hard day,” you hmm’d. 

“Evil woman,” he chuckled, reaching for you again. 

“You love it,” you gasped at the feeling of his fingers making their way once more to your center. 

“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes trained on your face as he played your body. “I fuckin’ do.”

Somewhere between rounds two and three, you had managed to talk Angel into wearing a face mask of his own, promising that he would “feel so much better for it.” 

He had acquiesced, of course, never able to tell you no. But made you promise under pain of death that you would never reveal that he had done something so girly to any one of his brothers.

You had agreed, but taken out your phone to snap a quick pic. Angel shirtless, tattoos illuminated against his skin in the ambient lighting of your living room, with a sheet mask on his face was too good not to capture.

“I swear, Frida,” he began, mock-threateningly, “If that ends up on the ‘gram…”

You shook your head. 

“Don’t worry, Angelito. This one’s just for me. And… maybe for Coco, if I’ve had enough tequila.” 

So, the butterflies… Always gonna be there with you, huh?

---

A few days after your date, Coco had texted you. 

“Leti needs a ride to work on Tuesday, and I have a yard shift. I hate to ask, but can you take her?”

“Sure,” you’d agreed. Following up with another message, “Do I pick her up from your place?” 

“She’s coming with me to the yard. She likes to hang in the office with Chucky,” he’d responded. 

Well, shit. 

If you’d known that this favor had come with the condition that you return to the yard -- to anywhere within the vicinity of that god-forsaken clubhouse, you probably would have refused. But you knew Coco was struggling to balance his club life with his relationship with his daughter. And you liked Leti. 

“You got it,” you responded. Cringing to yourself at just how you were going to pull this off and get out of there without anyone else talking to you. But texting Coco back to ask who else was on the yard shift with him would be too obvious. And kinda rude. He knew who you were hoping to avoid. 

Not much got past Johnny “Coco” Cruz.

So, Tuesday afternoon found you rolling over to the yard, hoping to swoop Leti and make a quick getaway. 

Luck, like time, was a bitch of a woman. And never seemed to be on your side in the keen moments you’d hoped she would be. Because as you pulled your car into the dusty lot abutting the scrapyard, who do you see?

Coco, in his snapback and yard uniform, was laboring with a large piece of metal. Ezekiel appeared to be fluttering in and out of the clubhouse, the clinking of glasses from inside reaching your ears when the door opened. 

Angel and … of fucking course … Andres were across the yard from Coco, standing over a junker and exchanging words. 

You sighed, rolling your shoulders and steeling yourself for whatever this was about to be as you got out of your car. 

The sound of your door opening and shutting was enough to draw nearly every eye in the yard to you, Angel freezing in his spot from the other side of the lot

As you began to stride over to where Coco was standing, EZ bound down from the clubhouse steps, intercepting you and greeting you with a warm hug. You smiled easily at the younger Reyes brother, holding your hand up to your eyes to shade your face as you looked up at his smiling face, him already talking to you a mile-a-minute.

From across the yard, Angel observed the interaction. After you’d met the club initially, and met EZ, Angel was content to say that he could appreciate how well you got along with everyone. How well-liked you were by each of the men, especially his brother. 

You two discussed literature, art, and liked to talk shit to each other, friendship in its purest form. Somewhere between Faust and the floodgates, Angel had watched on as you spilled over in your excitement speaking to EZ. Faust and Proust. Did Angel know what -- or was it who?? -- the fuck a "Faust" was? No. But he'd drown himself in literary references that already made him feel over his head if it meant he got to sit back and just take in how well you'd gelled with his family, with Ezekiel. In another life he supposed he'd be jealous that you had so much in common with his brother. But you didn't look at Ezekiel the way you looked at him. 

Even Angel could see it. And if he couldn’t, Coco was quick to remind him. 

“She only got eyes for you, mano,” Coco had told him, quietly, resolutely. 

EZ had left you now, gone back to the clubhouse for something. As you made your way to Coco, hugging him in spite of his obvious hesitance. 

Angel heard him protest against your attentions -- “I’m covered in grease, ma.” 

You’d hugged him anyway. He’d melted into your embrace, smiling softly. Angel had confided to Coco that he had seen you a few days ago on a date. Coco’s eyes had clouded over with something as Angel spoke, but passed through his features quickly, like a summer storm, before clearing. Resuming listening to Angel. The conversation… hadn’t gone well. 

“Back again, huh?” Andres had said from Angel’s side, gesturing lightly to where you stood with Coco. He nudged Angel’s side. “You taking another crack at that?” 

Angel ignored his question. 

“I think she’s here to pick up Coco’s kid,” he said simply, turning his attention back to the junker. Choosing to stay out of the situation, as Andres had left the car and was now striding across the lot to you.

“No hug for me, jaina?” 

You’d frozen in place at the voice behind you, Coco’s quicksilver eyes darting to over your shoulder, where Andres now stood, narrowing at the man’s question. 

You recovered quickly.

“Sorry,” you breezed, turning to face Andres. Noting the way his panther tattoo peeked out from the tank the man was wearing. You would never say you hated any piece you did, per se. But you weren’t about to post this one, wanting no association with it, or the man who bore it. Even if it was perfectly fine work. “Coco really was covered in grease. It’s pretty gross. I think I’m good,” you diverted, nudging Coco’s ribs and smiling to ease the tension. 

Andres shrugged, the blow to his pride obvious in the way his face twisted and his eyes narrowed at how closely you stood to the lithe ex-military man next to you. 

Coco eased through the conversation, patting your arm comfortingly, his eyes finding yours as he spoke, “I’mma go get Leti, OK? I’ll be right back.” 

You were a little distraught at the idea that Coco would leave you with this man, knowing how he had spoken to you before. But you supposed if he could hurry this interaction along and go get his daughter, it might not be so bad. 

“So,” you turned, schooling your facial features into a mask of cool indifference as you faced Andres, who was now addressing you. “We didn’t get to finish what we started the other night,” was all he said.

“Didn’t we?” You asked, tilting your head, nodding toward Andres’s tattoo. “I think we finished. It healed nicely.”

Andres rolled his eyes a little at you, as though you were slow. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He took a step toward you. 

Was this guy for real? Was he not getting it, or did he just not care?

You took a step in kind back from Andres, your anger flaring. “So what did you mean?” you asked. “You mean the bit before I gave you free ink, where you insulted my work? Or the bit after I gave you free ink, where you just insulted me?”

You could see the faint twitch in Andres’s face as you called him out. His patience clearly wearing thin. A man not used to hearing no when it was told to him. 

“That’s what I always liked about you,” he gritted out, smiling fakely, “you got that reaaaal fiery attitude. Not just any guy would put up with it,” he said, as though he was trying to give you advice.

“I dunno what you mean by ‘always,’” you said, politely, your own fake smile screwed into place. “If you excuse me, I’m gonna go find Leti.” 

As you made to leave, Andres lunged forward, gripping your wrist. 

"You really don't remember me?" Andres pressed, "C'mon, chiquita, don't be like that."

"I really don't," you snipped, whipping your wrist out of his grip. You were a little shorter with him than you usually were with people, even in your more frustrated moments. But he really was pissing you off. "Sorry if that's a blow to the ego, or whatever, but I didn't really make it a habit of looking at other guys when I was with someone else."

Andres snorted, tone no longer teasing, eyes dark and flat. You turned to face him again at the undignified sound he had made, noting his cool, angry features. 

"If only that 'someone else' had shown you the same courtesy," he snarled, swatting at your wrist now instead of reaching for it. 

"Hey, man, leave her the fuck alone." You turned to see EZ and Coco striding across the yard with Leti in tow, making their way toward you. Out of the corner of your eye, Angel was also making his way over, shoulders tense. 

EZ turned to you, taking in your crestfallen expression and the way you were suddenly very interested in your shoes. 

"You okay, hermanita?" EZ asked, large hand gentle on your shoulder. 

You nodded, sheepishly. Hating the way you seemed so small in that moment. This man was nothing, to you, or otherwise. And he’d managed to make you feel like you were nothing, too. 

You tried to find your voice again as you spoke, quiet at first, “Andres was just apologizing to me for the way he was rude at the patch party,” you turned to look at him, your eyes blazing now, “weren’t you?” 

Coco snorted. 

Andres narrowed his eyes, glaring at Coco, who held up his hands as if to say, “what can ya do?” 

“Best apologize,” Coco rasped, now pulling on a cigarette that seemed to have materialized from nowhere. “One does not fuck with Frida,” Coco exhaled. “Unwise, mano.” He gestured to you, “She’s got that scary tia energy.” 

EZ’s hand was still resting protectively on your shoulder as you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for Andres’s apology, now that you’d put him on the spot in front of his brother. Angel watched the entire exchange like a snake coiled to strike.

He knew he had fucked up by not saying shit as Andres dug at you at the patch party. It had been roiling beneath his skin, his blood bubbling and waiting to burst forth. Waiting for a chance to put the fucker in his place.  

“Yeah,” Andres gritted through his teeth, fake smile ready to crack at any moment. “Sorry about that. Too much to drink, and all.” His voice was flat. Devoid of any real remorse, as you knew it would be. 

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I hope you enjoy the ink. It’s the last you’ll be getting from me.”

Andres’s eye twitched before the dam broke on his childish rage, “Why you gotta be such a fuckin’ bitch? No wonder Angel fucked around on you -- that smart-ass mouth is gonna get you slapped.” 

He made to step toward you again, EZ and Coco stood before you, protectively, blocking you from Andres’s approach.

But Andres could reach you, Angel had gripped his shoulder, turning him around and landing a punch square to his jaw.

“Man, what the fuck,” Andres swore, spitting a wad of blood at the toe of Angel’s boot. “What the fuck did you hit me for?” 

Angel cracked his knuckles, shaking his wrist and his hand out from the impact of his hit to Andres’s face, readying himself to strike again if he needed to.

“You don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that,” he squared up, shoving Andres in the shoulder. “Listen to me, new patch. I’ll explain the rules -- you don’t look at her. You don’t talk about her. You don’t even think about her.” 

Angel’s shoulders were heaving as he worked himself up more, stalking toward Andres, like a jungle cat, coiled muscle beneath his skin ready to unleash. 

“Nod so I know you understand,” he bellowed in Andres’s direction, pointing a thick finger accusingly into his face, rewarded with Andres's curt nod.

EZ gently removed himself from your side, coming to grab Angel and whisper into his ear, calming him.

“Hey, man,” EZ reasoned, “Now’s not the time. You guys can settle this later. Cage.” 

Angel nodded, breathing heavily through his nostrils and willing himself to calm down as he turned to you, locking eyes with you again, only to be met with an imperceptible look on your face. Had he fucked this up even further now? You had never looked at him like that.

You shook your head, breaking the moment and stepping from behind Coco to go meet Leti where she was standing a comfortable distance away from the whole scene. 

“We gotta go,” you said, hurriedly grabbing Leti’s hand and marching off toward your car with the girl in tow. 

You buckled yourselves in and drove away from the lot in a cloud of dust. Hoping you could just leave it all behind. The further you got from the gates, the easier you could breathe. You drove in silence, as Leti watched you, assessing. Before she broke the silence. 

"We all miss you, you know," Leti said, softly, from her place in the passenger seat. "Just because Angel let you go doesn't mean we wanted to lose you, too. And fuck Andres. He’s a fuckin’ clown."

Leti's words were a wave of molten-hot guilt washing over you, burning your synapses and hardening over any residual anger and sadness you'd felt over the confrontation that had just happened. You knew some of what Leti had been through. How she, so like yourself, was reticent to form bonds with new people. How she'd routinely felt abandoned by those she let herself care about -- and you felt you'd now done the same.

"I'm so sorry, Leti," you implored, looking into the girl’s doe eyes, flecked with amber-gold and layered with wisdom and emotion. Her gaze heavy and so like her father’s. Nothing slipped past them. "I never meant to hurt you, to leave you."

"I-it's just … I miss you, is all," she murmured, twisting her long hair around her finger. "I know EZ misses you. He talks about you all the time. And … and my dad, too. Coco doesn't talk about it alot, but I think that says more than if he tried to put it in words. I know for a fact he misses you. Was pretty pissy with Angel for a while after everything went down." 

You smiled gently, leaning forward across the console to give Leti a soft hug.

“I really am sorry, Leti. I promise I’ll be around more,” you broke the hug, rubbing her arm as you pulled away. “You and Coco are welcome to come over for dinner anytime. I’ll cook for you. Just tell Coco no smoking in the house, cierto? And don’t tell Coco I said so, but you can come hang with me in the shop, if you want. Been slow lately. You can come do homework someplace quiet..” 

She chuckled lightly, nodding and promising to text you about coffee plans as she got out of the car.

You mulled over Leti’s words as you drove away. Maybe cutting everyone other than Aneesa out flatly wasn't the way to go. It's possible you had made a mistake there, though it's not like Leti hadn't confirmed that she understood why you did what you did. And it's not like other people wouldn't have done the same in your shoes. Even still, perhaps re-cracking open the "Angel" chapter of your life had its benefits, if only to once more let in the friends you had made along the way. 

Your departing words to Leti ringing in your ears long after you’d parked at home,

"I'll reach out to the guys more, too," you confirmed. "I didn't mean to leave everyone hanging."

I know you, you're like this. When shit don't go your way, you needed me to fix it.

And like me, I did, but I ran out of every reason.

---

The cracks of the next morning’s light streaming through the slats on his window were barely perceptible to Angel in his haze. The kind of stupor that comes when you’ve effectively straddled the line between two worlds -- Angel reluctantly bids farewell to the gentle caress of sleep, even if it was imperfect and restless; and begrudgingly greets the world of the waking, frowning beneath a heavily-furrowed brow at the grey-orange sun. 

Through the warming beams of light that streamed in isolated splashes across his skin and the bedspread, he could still imagine, half in dreams, that the warmth was you curled beside him, all soft curves, your thigh slotted between his, your sleep-mussed hair, his shirt riding up your form just so as you snoozed, and oh, your sweet, half-awake smiles. But the alternating cool spots of shade from the slats were the chilly reminder of your absence, of the ghost of your touch long gone cold. And as Angel shook himself more evermore awake and into the latter world, he wished he could return to the amorphous and hazy, staticky embrace of his dreams. 

Where life was a little more kind. Where there was a little more you. You were haunting him. Did memories, both experienced in your past together and the hypothetical potential “memories” of an unmet future, plague you, as well? Never to be? Did you dream of him? Or was he your nightmare? He supposed he’d never know, and knew had given up the right to ask. 

Put myself to sleep, just so I can get closer to you inside my dreams ...

It was a truth that was bitter, acrid, and hard to swallow. Or was that just his morning breath? Angel licked his lips, tasting the post-sleep stale dryness on his tongue, pushing himself out his side of the bed and toward the door -- for coffee or his toothbrush, he hadn’t decided. But the need to make a decision was cut short with an unexpected event-- 

A pounding at his door. Three raps from a heavy fist on the other side of his shitty apartment’s excuse for a door.

“Angel!” The shout through the wooden barrier that followed the persistent banging was unmistakably his obnoxious younger brother, come to pester him about what had gone down yesterday. Likely with a peace offering of some sort, as was EZ’s way. 

Angel sighed, rolling his neck to both sides until he was satisfied with the resulting crack, not bothering to tug on a shirt or socks as he padded his way through the cool, empty apartment. 

He fixed his signature scowling look of annoyance that EZ was so accustomed to to his face before swinging open the door. 

One of EZ’s bearpaw-like fists was still raised, fixed to rap against the door again if necessary. The other clutched a carrier with two to-go cups of coffee from EZ’s favorite shop. The one down the street from yours. The one with the cute barista. 

EZ, for his part, looked a little sheepish at the exaggeratedly grumpy look on his older brother’s face, his gilded, mossy eyes widening in a show of good-natured surprise. He recovered quickly, shouldering his way into Angel’s apartment, placing the to-go carrier with Angel’s coffee on his coffee table and flopping on one end of Angel’s couch, the leather giving a groan beneath his weight.

“By all means, bro, make yourself at fuckin’ home,” Angel groused, smacking his lips and turning to swipe the cup of coffee off of the table. 

“You’re welcome,” EZ smarted, eyebrows raised at Angel guzzling the fresh coffee like the heat was nothing. What was it you had called it?

Ah, asbestos mouth. EZ had heard the moniker pass through your lips on more than one occasion and found it to be apt as applied to his taciturn older brother. 

“So,” Angel said between sips of nuclear caffeine. “What? Any particular reason you’re banging on my door at ...” Angel trailed off, clearly unsure what time it actually was. 

“At 11:00 a.m.?” EZ supplied, sarcastically, “You’re right, Angel. It’s practically dawn.” 

“Man, shut up,” Angel groused, “What do you want?” 

“Who says I want anything,” EZ asked?

“This coffee’s got a string attached to it,” Angel shrugged, shuffling over to the couch and sitting a respectable distance from his annoying younger brother.

“We gotta talk about yesterday,” EZ supplied, finishing his sentence over Angel’s exaggerated groan and eye-rolling. 

“Wasn’t the point of yesterday that it’s done, little brother?” 

“Between you and Andres, maybe,” EZ said. “But not between you and me. After that shit you pulled at brunch with Gaby a few days ago, and now this, with Frida...” 

Angel took another sip of his coffee, his annoyance doubling at the increasingly lighter weight of the cup in his hands and at his brother’s pestering. 

“So, what? You wanna try and beat the shit outta me, too?” Angel asked. “Didn’t work out so well for Andres, did it?” 

“Look, Angel, I’m not trying to say I understand why you did what you did, fucking with Frida and Adelita. Because I don’t. And I gotta be honest -- after how yesterday went down, I understand it even less. And Coco agrees with me --”

“Oh, great,” Angel rolled his eyes, cutting his brother off. “You gotta stop going to the Church of Coco, man. What’d he tell you this time?” 

“That you’re fucking your way through your pain,” EZ parroted, mimicking Coco’s signature throaty breeze, “and you won’t stop until you feel something,” he shrugged, resuming his normal voice as he continued. “I don’t know about alla that, but --”

"It was too … domestic," Angel cut EZ off, shaking his head, more at himself than his brother. "Can you really see me with all that shit? Drinking coffee in bed together on a Sunday morning until we're old? Nah, bro … that ain't me. Adelita, the chaos. That's me." 

"It could be you, Angel," EZ protested. "The only person saying you can't have the Sunday coffee life is you."

“I'd just… I'd just fuck it up,” Angel sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm, his elbow on his knee. 

EZ continued drinking his coffee, pausing before delivering the blow. 

“I got news for you, bro,” he said between his prim little sips. “You did fuck it up.” 

Angel tch’d in annoyance at his brother, carding his hands through his hair and smoothing the thick strand that seemed to always threaten to fall over his eyes. For good measure, he tossed EZ that wicked side-eye only that only Angel and his mother had ever been able to truly perfect. 

“You think I don’t know that? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

Angel takes another pull of his coffee, now just the overly-concentrated dregs at the bottom of the cup, lightly grimacing at the beverage’s bitterness. EZ knew Angel took his coffee black, of course it would be the kind of thing his little brother would remember. But, in truth, given the way this conversation was turning, the literal sensation of bitterness on his tongue was almost too much for Angel to bear. He’d almost preferred it if EZ had forgotten his order -- watered the drink down with cream and (dare he say it?) sugar, and called it a day. Because at least it would be easier to swallow than the harsh truths and bile that were currently stewing inside of Angel, waiting to be given a voice. And it didn’t seem that EZ was in any kind of charitable mood when it came to pulling punches, either. 

Angel took in his brother’s profile from his perched place at the end of the couch: EZ’s legs were spread in a show of comfort, but shoulders tensed, like he was waiting to fight Angel every step of the way, no matter where this conversation was headed. Angel supposed he’d deserved that. 

For as fiercely protective as little Ezekiel was of his big brother, he was -- annoyingly so -- protective of the woman he’d dubbed his hermanita. A soft spot for you, the artsy girl with ink-stained fingers who would press lent books into his baby brother’s hands insistently, all the books you could bear to part with. Always there for Ezekiel with a patient ear and arms that would do their best to wrap around his broad shoulders. 

 Angel was struck again with the heavy weight-- the sinking stone in his gut that -- in theory-- should pull him to the bottom of the river he found himself awash in. Drowning is a sort of grounding, yes? But no… he just drifted further and further down the bank, carried in the foaming rapids by the pressing weight of his choices. In addition to that weight, his guilt prickled. Once again with the realization that his decisions had affected not only his love with you, but your relationship with Ezekiel, as well. How incredibly short-sighted he'd been with it all, playing fast and loose with the lives of everyone he'd loved.

Angel sighed before he spoke again, 

“No one ever tells you, do they?” EZ perked up at that, looking at his brother with his brows furrowed in puppylike-confusion. 

“No one ever tells you just how insecure it all makes you feel,” Angel supplied. “Love. They write a million songs about how perfect it all is -- how it’s supposed to be some kind of divine answer. Birds singing, an’ shit. Or they talk about how it rips your fuckin’ heart out, but they…” Angel pauses to chuckle, “They never tell you how when you’ve got it, you feel both so… happy it’s yours. But terrified at the same time that it never. Really. Belongs to you.” 

He shook his head, meeting his brother’s eyes again, his own swimming with the glimmer of emotion long-kept down. EZ leaned across the couch, placing a warm hand on his brother’s shoulder, nodding at him in acquiescence, encouragement to keep going. 

“I-I know what I did, and I know everyone wants an answer… Why did I do it? Why-why did I let it all go down like that? But what answer would ever be good enough? I hurt her, and that’s the end of it. I was fuckin’ stupid, all because I was scared. I had her, and I knew I shouldn’t have had her at all. And I’m just so fuckin’ … sorry.” 

He sighed, breath shuddering. Opting to fill the now-still air in his apartment with another bitter slug of shitty coffee while EZ pondered what to say in response. 

EZ shifted on the couch, leather creaking beneath him as he weighed what to tell his brother. 

“I- I don’t know what the answer here is, Angel,” EZ finally admitted. “I get that it’s scary. Fuck yeah, it is. But that’s no excuse --”

“I know that,” Angel snapped. 

EZ held his hands up in surrender, placating the red dragon-heat that was his brother’s quick temper before it could rise. 

“I know you do,” EZ spoke softly, “I know, man. But it’s not that simple. You should probably tell her, ya know? What you just told me. But even if you did, she’d be within her right not to hear it. Or not to want to fix shit with you, or take your apology. And you? Gotta accept it.” 

EZ brushed imaginary dirt from the thigh of his jeans before speaking again, 

“Sucks,” he sighed through his nose. “I dunno if I’d be madder at her for taking you back or for not taking you back. But, uh, even if she doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you won’t find it again, Angel. You just gotta decide whether you wanna try here -- and accept the outcome no matter what she decides. You owe her that. But one thing’s for sure … you should actually try talkin’ to her.”

Angel had the faraway look in his eye of a man either deep in thought, or someone not listening entirely, staring through the far wall as EZ had spoken to him. Maybe he didn’t look it, but he’d heard every word, turning them over again in his mind before swallowing them somewhere deep in his gut, internalizing wisdom from someone who was younger than him, but who’d undoubtedly lived through more than most people. EZ was good for that kind of bereft wisdom -- disconnected in its logic coming from someone like EZ, but completely sensical when you understood the depth of the boy’s character and empathy. Not for the first time in his life, Angel was grateful for Ezekiel. 

He smiled weakly at his little brother, acceptance cracking through the little cracked crescent grin, “Mom would’ve liked her, huh?” 

EZ smiled at his brother in return, facile and genuine, as only Ezekiel’s grins could be.

---

I swear, for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name, but now that it's there, I don't really know what to say…

Across town, EZ had left Angel’s, and the latter, now alone in his apartment and buzzing with EZ's words, was typing a text to you. And here you are … looking down at your phone between gathering your laundry and stacking clean dishes. You saw Angel’s name pop up next to the little text bubble on your homescreen, causing you to pause in your chores.

Huh. Unexpected  Should you open it? 

After everything that had gone down yesterday at the scrapyard, and the shitty attempt a few days prior to fuck up your date-- were you ready now to have the conversation you knew you and Angel were dancing around for the better part of several months? Ready to breach the seemingly impenetrable wall of silence? Feelings like the ones you held for Angel had a way of not being able to stay buried for too long. And you knew you could never truly move on, never would be able to give the icy shards wedged between your ribs and into your heart a chance to heal. Not unless you and Angel got it all out into the open.

And with the circumstances the way they were, with everything that had gone down -- how many women in your position could say they'd had the same opportunity?

How did the old saying go? What three things cannot long be hidden? The sun. The moon. And the truth. 

The truth was, to you, the sun and moon rose and set on Angel. 

The truth was, you had bitten off a few barbs and spat them at Angel in the few moments you’d shared with him since he tossed you from his apartment all those months ago. You weren't a perfect person. But it’s damn well what he deserved, after what he did. You weren’t wrong about that. The fact that everyone, and Angel’s father, were angry at him for the way things had gone down told you that you were not the one in the wrong.

The truth was, Angel had fucked up. Not only with his infidelity and the way he had tipped you from his life, with blunt hands tearing haphazardly at the roots… but he had insulted you, your work, and stood idly by and allowed others to do the same. 

He knew it, and you knew it. And you had both been petty.

But now that the wound was open, and the skin around it raw and heated, pulsing with its own heartbeat -- how could you ever give it a chance to heal if you didn't try to close it?

There was nothing saying that if you read Angel’s message, if you heard him out, and you got the chance to say your own piece, that you had to forgive him. And if it meant moving on? Maybe it was the step you needed to take. 

Like burning a candle to the end. Or, yes, wrapping a wound. Or perhaps like covering an old tattoo. Clara Forever? 

You unlocked your phone, sliding open your texts, taking a deep breath as you did so.

“I just wanted you to know I heard what you said,” Angel’s text read. “I do wanna talk to you, Frida. But only when you’re ready to talk to me. If you ever are. I just want to hear you out. Even if I know you never have to accept my apology.” 

Well. 

You looked down at your phone. You read Angel's text. Re-read it.

You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't acknowledge that everything that had gone down hadn't been building to this. 

 You brought your thumbs to the glass, beginning to type,

"I'm off tomorrow at six. You can come by after."

There. Short, sweet, and to the point.

Your phone pinged in your hand. Glancing down at it, you saw two words in response,

"Gracias, Frida."

"Don't thank me yet."

You put your phone down flat on the counter. 

The truth was, you still loved Angel Reyes. And you weren't sure whether your rage outweighed your ardor. And this scared the shit out of you.

When Angel rolled up the next day at ten after six, you were slightly annoyed. In the beginning of your relationship, he had been incredibly punctual, likely borne out of eagerness to see you. As time wore on, Angel's timeliness waned. At the time, you had assumed it had everything to do with his commitments to the club, and had remained understanding. With the benefit of hindsight, however, you now knew that it likely wasn't always the club. 

You didn't know anything about Adelita, save for her relationship to Angel. And you intended to keep it that way. But a nastier part of your brain was intensely curious. 

Did she make Angel laugh? Was she smarter than you? Prettier than you? She had to be beautiful, just like Angel was beautiful. The thought made your heart ache. 

When she kissed Angel, did she taste your lips on his? Did she know about you now? Did she hold more of Angel's heart than you had? 

If you were more like her, would Angel have chosen you?

You knew you wouldn't ask Angel any of these questions -- what did they always say? Don't ask something you don't really want the answers to? 

You slept easier at night keeping the idea of Adelita just that -- an amorphous, question mark-shaped idea. Knowing Angel's part in it all was more than enough.

Easier. You said you slept easier. Not well. You dreamt of Angel far too often to say you slept well. You dreamt of the feel of his hair between your fingers, both in a gentle and comforting pass, and in the harsh tugging borne of passion. You dreamt of the feel of his warm skin against yours. You dreamt of days spent swimming in the ocean, him lifting you up to twirl you through the water, like a sea sprite, a deity meant to be worshipped. Perhaps most cruelly, you sometimes dreamt of a future. Your memories blended with your dreams at the cruel, twisting hands of hazy sleep. Never to be.

And when Angel arrived at your place shortly after you had returned home from closing the shop, your gut, your brain, and your heart were all writhing in their own respective dances, never in sync with one another, and rendering your nerves completely fried. 

You opened the door, beckoning Angel in. You stopped yourself from moving to help remove the kutte from his shoulders and hanging it by the door, freezing your hands in the middle of raising to do just that, dropping them awkwardly by your sides again.

If Angel noticed, he hadn't said anything.

He shuffled into your place, likely surveying what had changed since he had last been there. To his surprise? Not much. You still had candles everywhere, casting everything in a warm glow. Your overstuffed chairs were still draped in cozy blankets and piled with brightly-patterned throw pillows. The bookcase in the corner of your living room was still packed to the edges, stacks of additional books on the floor at the foot. Your potted green plants made the room look simultaneously larger and smaller. Your dedication to maximalism was admirable. 

You loved what you loved, even if you didn't have the space. In your heart, or otherwise.

Angel breathed in the familiar cinnamon-orange scent that was your place, its permanent residence in his mind sending a zip through his heart. 

You shuffled past Angel, into your living room and making your way toward the kitchen, offering Angel a drink, which he declined.

You shrugged. "Suit yourself."

You made your way into the kitchen, opening a cabinet that Angel knew contained a precarious tower of stacked coffee mugs. Like a personal game of Jenga only you could win, you plucked your desired mug, and closed the cabinet before the dangerous clinking of the remaining mugs could turn disastrous. 

You prepared a cup of tea while Angel stood at the carpeted edge of your living room, unsure of just how comfortable he was allowed to make himself in this space that -- while just as chaotically orderly and distinctly you as he remembered it -- seemed to be purged of any remembrance of him.

Stirring honey into your mug of tea and blowing on it, you watched Angel over the rim of your mug. Watched him observe your space, and waited for him to speak. 

You tilted your head toward the open door of your bedroom, breaking the silence first,

“I, uhhh, I’ve been working all day. I’m just gonna change real fast.” You shuffled your feet into the carpet, padding softly into your room and pushing the door softly shut. 

You slipped out of your jeans and into soft sweats and an oversized tee. Maybe if you felt more comfortable, you could stave off some of the awkwardness. Maybe letting Angel back into your space wasn’t the best idea. 

After changing, you took a moment -- sat on your bed, elbows balanced on your knees and head in your hands … you took a few deep breaths, lit a candle. Your palms felt clammier by the second, knowing that Angel was out there waiting for your re-emergence.

You don’t know how long you were sitting on the edge of your bed, just breathing. Preparing yourself. 

A soft knock on your bedroom door broke your dazed thoughts. You looked up, seeing Angel through the widening crack in the door, fist raised, his knuckle rapping softly on your bedroom door. 

You locked eyes for moment before Angel chuckled sheepishly to himself, shuffling his feet in your doorway,

“I, uh, thought you might’ve jumped out the window,” he chuckled lightly. 

Leave it to Angel to find a way to lighten the heavy mood that had descended upon your space. You managed to crack a small smile, corner of your mouth tilting up just-so in that way he had always found endearing. 

“The thought had crossed my mind,” you shrugged, patting the space next to you, acquiescing to allow Angel to sit. 

He crossed your room, exhaling heavily as he took a seat next to you on the bed. 

Now that you were seated so closely to Angel in the low light of your bedroom, you looked at his face, taking him in. Really looking at him for the first time in months. Trying to ignore the pricking feelings of trauma that were doing their best to bubble beneath the surface and consume you --- had Angel not broken your heart in a manner so like this? Seated next to one another on the end of his bed while he told you, in no uncertain terms, that he was done with you? The thought made a sick wave of nausea wash through you. You wiped your perpetually-sweaty hands along the thighs of your sweats. 

You had survived the last encounter like this, hadn't you? Honestly, what more could he do to you? 

For his part, Angel was silent next to you, surveying the space of your room as he had in your living room. The familiar clutter greeted him -- a stack of books and a coffee mug on your bedside. A sketchbook never too far from reach. The comforter beneath him as pillowy as he remembered. He shuddered a sigh. 

You decided to take conversational mercy on him, 

"Go ahead,” you beckoned. “Say what you have to. But just know I meant what I said at the party. I don't need shit from you. You telling me what you want to say is for you. And when it's done, you're going to give me what I deserve and listen to me. We need to put this behind us. I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder for you for the rest of my life, Angel.” What had started as a murmur grew fiercer with each word.

"That's fair, querida," was all he offered. Your words to him each time you had spoken since the party were evermore forceful. He was used to gentle Frida. It wasn't often that the turn of your tide was leveled against him. Not often he was forced to bear the brunt of your storm when you were upset.

He could see what Coco meant. It was unwise to make you angry 

He turned his body slightly to face yours, looking down at your hands as though he was contemplating attempting to hold one. His fingers twitched where his hands rested along his thighs. Better just to crack the ice, become submerged in frozen water. Take the shock out of it now, even if he wasn't sure where to begin, now that he faced you.

“I”m not really sure what I can tell you that’ll make it better,” he admitted.

You sighed. 

“I’m not looking for you to make it better, Angel. There is no more better. Whatever you want to say, you say it,” you pressed. “We’re past better. We’re not together. you were clear about that. You don’t have to spare my feelings, I’m not your girl.”

Angel flinched, almost imperceptibly, at your last statement.  He knew you weren’t together, knew you weren’t his. Hell, he’d been busy in the months since you’d been broken up. Busy chasing Adelita. Busy with other women when it didn’t work out with Adelita. Busy acting like a jackass with Andres. Busy with club nonsense. But hearing you say that you weren’t his girl? 

It made Angel’s heart ache in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. At your scoff, he shook his head. “Really. After Adelita told me she was pregnant … I thought it was easier just to let you go. I needed to be there for her, for the kid. Even if it meant -- even if it meant losing you.” 

“Easier for who? For you?” Your voice was soft. You hated that, once again, you felt like the crystalline girl Angel’s heartbreak had rendered you. Worried that the slightest thing would shatter you once more. 

Angel chucked again, but there was no humor behind it. His eyes looked flat, as though he wasn’t really focusing on anything. 

“For both of us, I guess. It’s stupid. I thought if I just -- cut you out … we would both be better. But … that ain’t what happened. I just made us both miserable. I made you hate me. And now ...  She's gone. And so are you,” Angel’s voice was low, cracked. 

The weight of his words, coupled with the gravelly pitch of his voice was making you feel restless, itchy. Grit like pebbly grains of sand you would roll between your fingers on days at the beach, palpable and pronounced.

“A-and,” you interjected, “how did you meet her? When did you meet her?” 

Angel’s eyes darted to meet yours again, finding a swimming emotion he was getting better at putting his finger on. You only looked like that when you were getting lost in negative thoughts, awash in a sad song. Or when he was breaking your heart. He hated that look on your face. Hate that it marred your beautiful features into baleful melancholy. 

“Club shit,” was all he’d said. “We were mixed up in some shit with the rebels. We were helping each other. W-we connected. It just … happened.” 

You whipped your head at that last bit, eyes hardening. Angel’s hands came up, defensively.

“I know. Everyone says that, don’t they? It’s true… and I -- I really didn’t mean to hurt you. When I found out she was pregnant, I thought I was doing the right thing. By her. And by you,” he sucked air in through his teeth before releasing the breath in a huff of air. “I was wrong, Frida. I made every wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”

Angel carded his hands through his hair, tugging the ends lightly in his frustration. “I-- I just been going through some shit lately. And then ... Ezekiel tried to serve us brunch, and I was an asshole.” 

He looked at you, only to meet your puzzled gaze.

“Brunch?” You queried, wrinkling your nose lightly. “Since when are you a brunch kinda guy, Angelito?” 

“I really ain’t,” he said. “And you?”

“I like brunch just fine,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“That’s not what I mean, Frida, and you know it,” he said. “But we can get back to that later.” He took in your loose sweats, the way you had been picking your nails, the bags beneath your eyes. You had looked so beautiful, so perfect and untouchable,  at the patch party the other night. And now -- in your room, all pretense stripped away, Angel could see the real you … behind the professional and put-together front. The tired girl with a broken heart. And he felt the residual ache in his chest that had taken residence left of his heart ever since the day he had put your stuff in a box and left it outside of his door. 

“I know you have something you want to say to me, too, Frida. Your turn. How are you feeling?”

You laughed hollowly, your eyes fixed on the doorway to your room, half expecting Angel to get up and go.

“I’ve been better, Angel,” you deadpanned, swiveling to look at him, and finding him still seated next to you. “Ya know? It’s been a tough couple of days? Between that disaster of a party and whatever the hell went down the other day… but this town is too small for us to just try to ignore each other, and I do like it here.” You rubbed your eyes, the air between the two of you filling with silence that never used to be so awkward.  

“That can’t be all you gotta say,” Angel pressed. “C’mon, Frida. Tell me how you’re feeling. I was… I was awful to you.”

The candle in the corner of the room sputtered, causing momentary, flickering shadows to dance along the walls of your room. Your safe, homey space felt full of shadows and ghosts, words unspoken between the two of you threatening to burst forth, your closet brimming with proverbial skeletons. 

And you were just so tired. And now Angel was pressing you? You weren’t sure if the heat was from your sweats, the proximity of the man next to you, that you had turned up the thermostat too high. Or the fact that you were still so fucking angry. 

“You want to know how I’m feeling, Angel?” You tugged on the ends of your hair, running your hands down the thighs of your sweats once more. Were you always so sweaty? “I appreciate you telling me the truth. Finally. And for apologizing, I guess.”

Tears were pricking at your eyes, the heat blazing in your cheeks matching the heat in the room.  

"But you made me look stupid. Like someone in need of pity," you sucked air in through your teeth. "I fucking hate pity, Angel. It's just misplaced empathy. A useless emotion. And you’d think I’d just wear that mess? For everyone to see? At the party. At the yard. Everyone just feeling sorry for me. For months. Because of you.”

The ache in Angel’s chest intensified. Awash in a wave of hot shame. Was it always so hot in this room? You were right. And weren’t you always? You never were that girl, and he had sent you down the river like you meant nothing, your artist’s hands crushed beneath the washed stones of his choices. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done, apparently --

“And after everything? The way it went down? You made me feel like … I don’t know … Like you were punishing me,” your voice cracked, sobs and tears imminent through the dam you had erected. “Like I loved you more than you loved me, and you knew it… like you wanted to make me pay for that.” 

“Frida …” Angel turned his body toward yours fully now, closing the space between the two fo you and cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the silvery hot tears that were slipping down your face, sick that he had caused them. Sick that he had even made you think that what you were saying was true. “It wasn’t like that,” he assured. 

“And the shittiest part is,” you hiccuped around your words, “you can’t even tell me give me the comfort of a cliche -- you can’t honestly tell me ‘it meant nothing,’ or that it was a ‘one-time thing,’ because none of that is true, is it? You care about her -- you had a child with her. You love her. And here I thought I could take what you did, take you, fold you up and tuck you away, like a note you pass in school. And I can’t. I just can’t.”

You tilted your face downward now as your tears fell, allowing your face to be fully cupped by Angel’s warm, calloused hands. Even now, you were still amazed at how tender his touch was, despite his rough exterior. All he wanted now was to comfort you, to touch you and bring your eyes to his again. To remind you of his love for you. Once. Now. Always?

“Frida, it wasn’t like that. They were my selfish, stupid choices. Mine. And I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted … everything with you. And it wasn’t right. I told you -- I … been going through some shit.” 

“Scared,” you murmured. Turning your face in Angel’s hands, causing your lips to brush over his fingers. You leaned back, effectively releasing your face from the trace of his touch. 

“Isn’t it remarkable how secure and insecure you can simultaneously feel when you’ve found someone worth loving? I felt it, too. With you  it's now I knew you were the one,” You said. Angel straightened in shock, at how, though you weren’t present for his conversation yesterday with Ezekiel, you parroted his feelings he had confided in his brother back to him. Always on the same page. His full lips pursed as you continued. 

“We can’t keep using what happened to hurt each other. I’m done with that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you felt the way you did. I’m sorry you felt like you needed to look elsewhere. And I hope you find what you're looking for,” you hated how soft your voice sounded to your own ears. Hadn't you meant to be forceful, angry? You sniffled. “Because, despite everything that’s happened...  You are someone worth loving, Angelito.” 

"No, Frida," he shook his head softly before looking at you again, eyes glittering. "You are. Someone deserving of more.”

Your breath caught in your chest at his words, taking this moment to look into his ochre eyes once more. You wanted to commit to your memory just how they swirl like melting chocolate and promises in low candlelight.

And, oh. Angel was made to be seen like this, you’d thought. The dim candlelight giving everything in your room a pleasant glow and slightly-blurry edges. He looked like his namesake. And how ironic was that, really? Considering the context of your conversation. 

It's easy these days, you thought, for you to get carried away by your own feelings... While you searched desperately in the emotional rubble for your muse, Angel, the truth of it tore you to shreds with blunt fingernails -- knowing he was  out in the world -- running freely and carelessly. Running away with your imagination. With your hope. With the pieces of your heart that had survived the blitzing storm he had put you through. With the pieces of your heart that had belonged to him. That you feared may always belong to him.  

Looking at Angel now, in the low-lit steadfast luminescence of your room, shadows flickering agreeably across his angular cheekbones. He was sculpted. Made to be admired in perpetuity. Artist that you were, it ached. It stung. The knowledge that your hands were not the ones that had molded him into the man sat beside you. A man molded, instead, by his own choices. 

All you could do was watch as those wrong decisions drifted lazily down the river, only to become a torrent, Angel caught in the current. The waves lapped loudly, sloppily against riverbanks of better judgment, but Angel is never quite washed ashore. No, as you watched, he slipped down the river, out of your fingertips and toward something you're too fearful to quantify. Away from you. 

You want the river to carry him back to you. To home. But you know it never will. 

Angel has two choices now: To drown under the weight of his path this river has wrought; or to swim. 

As you sit beside him in the growing heat of your room, you hope he chooses to swim. Even if it’s not to where you stand. 

"So, is that what’s next?” You asked, wiping your eyes. 

At Angel’s puzzled look, you carried on,

"You're asking for it back," you whispered. “Or you’re going to. My heart? You may not have said it like that, exactly, but it's what you want. Like you don't know how bad it all hurt me, even if you say you know, I don't think you ever will. And even if I wanted to give it to you, I don't know if there's enough of it left."

You wrung your hands together, awaiting Angel’s response. You looked up at him through your lashes, clumped together with the tears that had escaped during your confessional. 

His molten eyes were soft on your form, swallowing before he spoke again. 

“I was such an asshole… to you. And at that stupid brunch … to Gaby. But it was all just … too much. I mean, she was wearing mom’s apron…” Angel shook his head. “And all I could think of … Even with Adelita out there, with her and my boy gone, outta my life… all I could think of was how it should be you wearing the stupid apron. It should be me giving you my mother’s ring. And I was so angry at Ezekiel for having all of that. For having what I wanted … wanted with you.” 

If there was any air left in the room, it was certainly all gone now. All that was left was heat, no air or space between the two of you. Just stagnant air and the weight of words, both said and unsaid. And if Angel had said these words to you more than a year ago? Maybe they would sound different to your ears. Melodious, even. 

Now, all you could think to do was comfort. Ever the nurturer. What else could you do, really, after he'd said that? You shook your head gently, lacing your fingers through Angel’s and squeezing. 

“It’s not that he has something you don’t, or that you can’t have, Angel… What EZ and Gabriela have is what they have. It’s theirs. You’ll have yours. Someday.”

Silence descended upon the room once more. The warm scent of orange-cinnamon from your candle permeated the room, the ever-present heat between you and Angel banishing all thoughts of romantic winter from your mind. 

“I just wanna say, again, Frida… how sorry I am for what happened at the party. For what happened with Andres. It was fucked up of me,” Angel’s tongue passed over his lips. “Did I answer all of your burning questions?” 

You reached over, trailing your fingers over the tattoo you had given Angel what felt like a lifetime ago.  His eyes followed the trajectory of your fingers, his nerves alight at the feeling of your starlit, feathery touch on his skin once more.

"Just one left.” Your eyes locked with his, unwavering. “Who am I to you, really?" You ask, the edge your silken voice had taken on slides beneath Angel's skin clumsily, like crumbling shards of glass. "What did I mean?"

Angel tries not to look at you now. Tries, but fails. His dark eyes meet your downcast ones once more, hates that they are once more glimmering with unshed tears waiting to fall. Hating that once again, he's the cause of the dreary blue tinge shading what should have been your sunny, hopeful worldview. Awash with the sunsets he would take you to see. 

And if there was any time for blossoming truth, for a sprig of rosemary remembrance of sacred feeling, it was now. 

"You're the love of my life," he finally admits, exhaling heavily. "That's just it, ain't it? Always you. And not that I have any right to ask you now -- But I need to know, Frida. Am I yours?"

Any air left was sucked from the room in one fell swoop, leaving you with the stuffy and sticky discomfort of Angel's question and the weight of his heated gaze on you, waiting for something, anything to fall from your pretty lips.

And what a question it was. 

You knew the answer, of course. You reach up to brush your thumb tenderly across Angel’s sculpted cheek, as though you could be the one molding it, nodding before verbalizing your answer,

"You've always been the love of my life. Had my heart. I'm yours, But, I think I know now… that  you were never truly mine. Even if you say it now. You have a heart that's not so easily won, Angelito. That's something I wish I'd learned sooner, wish I could've taken from you… from all of this." 

All Angel could do was shake his head, the crease in his brow deepening at your words. 

"Ever the poet, Frida."

"I thought I was a 'shit' poet?" You teased gently, recalling his words to you when he’d texted you to ask you out for the first time. 

Angel chuckled, the grit and honey in his voice washing over you, a wave of silken heat, his eyes are fixed upon yours intently, leaning forward and bringing his hands to trace along your neck, your jaw, dragging his thumb over the full, pillowy part of your bottom lip. 

“You did win it, Frida,” was all he said. 

The rush of warm, fluttery feeling swam through your body, prickling you like sparkling, popping champagne. Angel’s eyes tracked yours, down to where his thumb was dragging across your lip. Your eyes slipped shut, lashes fluttering. 

You could feel it rushing back. Everything Angel had ever made you feel -- the ardor, the frustration, the crushing weight of the river wild. Heat bloomed across your cheeks and down your chest, between your thighs and through the fingertips that you had brought to grip Angel’s biceps. 

His declaration of love, of melted marshmallow and warm cocoa -- made you crave him in a way you had long thought gone. 

You pressed your lips to kiss the tip of Angel’s thumb. You were rewarded with a reciprocal, sucking in of air on Angel’s part. 

He held his breath momentarily before surging forward and capturing your lips with his full ones. 

You were awash in the memory of every kiss shared with Angel. Of how he’d made you feel in your full-hearted moments together. Rich and full, like morning coffee. Hazy and sweet, like cherry smoke.

Angel’s kiss makes you feel dizzy, fizzing and dissolving simultaneously, like a Mento in a glass of Coke. Volatile and thrumming, both erupting and disappearing so fast, you were afraid you’d never have the chance to process exactly what it made you feel. 

It might be okay, you reasoned to yourself -- if you could hold Angel just for one more night, feel his body pressed against yours. It felt like a good idea in this moment, just to hold him for one  night only. 

Your lips pressed against one another, his hand cupping your jaw trailing back to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging it -- causing your kiss to break. Angel trailed his lips from yours, down and along your jaw. 

Angel’s grip firmed, turning your head further as he continued his attention down your neck, giving you a view of the chair next to your closet where you had haphazardly thrown Angel’s t-shirt when you had worn it last, a symbol of comfort now worn-out. 

You laid back, Angel following, surging over you and pressing you into your cloudlike comforter. His hips rolled into yours, his teeth now scraping gently along the slope of your neck. 

At the gasp you emitted, Angel felt himself harden in his jeans. He'd thought he'd never hear that sound from you again. And replaying the memory of it in his head? Not enough. He rolled his hips into yours again, again, as you dragged your thighs up Angel’s sides, locking your legs around his hips. He trailed warm hand down to caress your breast through your soft t-shirt, leaving a heated trail in its wake. 

“Oh, Angel,” you gasped, rolling your hips to meet his. 

“Can I kiss you like this, amor?” Angel rasped, “I’ll make you feel good.” 

He took in the heat behind your eyes, the kiss-swollen state of your lips when he broke from them. The creeping heat he felt from beneath your collar in his position atop you, and the way your breasts heaved beneath your shirt. 

The thread of resolve you were hanging by seemed to dissolve, leaving you unraveled and threadbare, naked before the man you swore would be your forever. The ache you felt between your legs burned crimson, cloudy and acrid. You tasted Angel’s kiss, tasted him, on your tongue.

You were never more aware of the dimensions of your body than when Angel had his hands on you, tracing and gripping every curve, the touch of places you don't think to touch yourself, strange but pleasurable as you relished in the trace of his rough fingertips against your smooth skin. He slid his hands down your waist, hips and into the loose waistband of your sweats, sliding them down your legs as he went. 

Angel played your body with temerity, a confidence, and before you knew it, your lower half was bare before him. He pushed the soft, loose fabric of your t-shirt up and over your chest, trailing his lips over your now-exposed skin, bringing his other hand to cup your breast, circling the pad of his thumb over your nipple. 

You gasped and groaned beneath Angel’s attention. Gripping at the hem of his shirt, you tugged it up and over his head, trailing your hands down his firm, thick torso. 

Angel was reticent to deprive himself of your touch after not having had it for so long. The touch of your nimble, artist’s fingers trailing over the lines of his body made Angel feel like an instrument being plucked to a tune that made both his and your body sing. He thought he would never feel it again.

 But this moment? This was about you. 

 Angel gripped your wrists, firmly planting your hands next to your head, following the trajectory and leaning over you with his full body. Releasing your wrists, Angel firmly pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue swiping past your lips and invading your mouth. Hot, needy, dirty. 

Ange tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing lower and lower down your body, kissing your hips, nipping at your hipbone, causing you to yelp and buck your hips.

The action drew Angel’s attention, lifting his lips from your body, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I missed you, baby. Did you miss me? Sweet girl...” His voice was lower than you think you’d ever heard it, dangerously so. 

Bringing his hand down to cup your mound, he traced his fingers through your slick folds.

“Ah-Angel,” you gasped, tilting your head back at the blissful feel of Angel’s touch. As quickly as his touch had come, he withdrew it, causing your eyes to snap open, fixed on him and full of fire. 

“You know how this works, querida. I won’t touch you unless you answer me,” he taunted, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over where you’d wanted him most, staunch in his refusal to commit to the touch. 

“God, Angel, yes,” You gasped. “P-please.”

Angel rewarded you, prising apart your legs and sliding down your body, tracing a teasing lick of his tongue through your folds, increasing in pace and intensity at the noises passing through your lips.

"I d-do miss you,” you sighed, starting to roll your hips against Angel’s tongue. “I miss the way you touch me… the way you fuck me.”

God. It was hot, the way you talked, the way you gave yourself over to him. 

Stars and firecrackers popped behind your eyes at Angel’s attention, cinnamon heat seeping through your bones, writhing and twisting at the way Angel strung his way through your body. Unable to justify the concept of being left alone, you tugged up at Angel’s jaw, forcing him to look up at you. Met with your wanton gaze, Angel licks his lips at the sight of you and slides back up your body with a grace that defies his size. 

Now level with you once more, he gripped your jaw, turning your head to the side and attacked your neck, your breasts with renewed vigor, grinding his denim-clad hardness against your naked core, the painful drag of the fabric turning pleasurable. 

With your gaze turned toward the wall, you were once again greeted with the sight of Angel’s rumpled t-shirt on the chair by your closet. An object of comfort, threads and strings tying you to a past life.   

What were you doing? Taking comfort in something that you couldn’t, in good conscience, call your own?

The rumpled shirt seemed to be mocking you, taunting you. Reminding you that, once again, you were seeking clinging to something you shouldn't. Seeking solace in things -- people -- that you shouldn't. 

Apart from Christopher's warm, sly, sensational goodnight kiss the other day, Angel's was the first touch you'd experienced like this since, well, Angel… How easy it was to slip back into your feelings for him, get caught up in him.

I'd give it all just to hold you close, sorry that I broke your heart... You shouldn’t be doing this. 

“Angel,” you prised his lips from your body. “St-stop.” 

Angel’s eyes were wild, hair mussed and lips swollen.

“What, querida?” 

“Angel,” you sighed again, sliding your shirt down and coming to sit up. “We can’t be doing this.”

Angel slouched next to you with a huff, trailing his fingers down your arm.

“Why not?”

You sighed. After all this time, the feeling of Angel so close to you was everything you thought you wanted. But everything that had been said? The water beneath your respective bridges? Angel was still awash, had not come to rest on any bank. And you were still waiting on the shore -- now certain that all you would mold from the riverbank clay were memories and half-baked dreams. 

“We’re not together,” you breathed, leaning over the bed to pick up your sweats and tug them back on. “And that’s not what this is. We're too old for platitudes, and happy endings are for children's stories. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you know this is wrong.”

“Querida -- I want…" Angel started, before turning away, leaning over his thighs and tugging his hands through his hair… his distress with how he had let himself get so out of control with you was mounting. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“What? Angel,” you touched your hand to his still-bare shoulder. “What do you want?”

"A second chance…?" Angel's normally smooth voice trailed at the end, transforming his desire into a question, fading into the silence of the room. He shifted his shoulders, turning his body to once more face yours, but not quite meeting your eyes. 

You let his words hang in silence for a moment, weighing how you wanted to respond.

“Say something, Frida.” 

"I knew you'd say that," you chuckled drily. "I know you, you're like this. But second chances become third, fourth, fifth. I can't trust you. What did you expect me to say?"

Angel opened his mouth to answer before catching sight of the expression on your face, twisted into proverbial knots. Even now, you were being far more gracious than he had any right to expect. He closed his mouth again, sighing.

"I don't know, dulce."

"I do,” you shook your head. “You expected me to say 'yes,' " you reached across the bed to one more lace your fingers through his. "I know you. But what does it say about me that I want to? It would be so like me, wouldn't it?"

You squeezed Angel's fingers tenderly in your grip, awarding him a flickering, wan smile. 

Angel's voice cracked when he spoke again, "Then say yes, Frida. Let me prove it to you. Prove that we’re meant to be together."

"And would you? Would you take me back if I did that to you? If I had someone else's child? While we were together?" 

Angel was silent at that, not having considered the reversal of roles. In truth, though you knew him, he knew you, too. It would be so wildly out of character, how would he have been expected to consider it?

"You think you might, because you love me. But, see, Angelito, I don't think you would. So how can you sit there and say we're two people who are meant to be when we don't even love each other the same? Love doesn't come in pieces, amor. You held my heart in your hands. And you crushed it. Let it crumble into nothing, like sand. Like I meant nothing."

“But this--” Angel gestured between the two of you, eyes lingering on the skin of your neck where his mouth had been, tracing his fingers over your kiss-swollen lips. 

“--Can’t happen.” Tears were rising to your eyes again. 

Goddamnit. Couldn’t you get through one conversation with him without crying?

“Maybe we are meant to be. And maybe we'll find our way back to one another. But right now? I -- I don't think I can. But more importantly, I don't think we should. And please hear me when I tell you how much it breaks my heart to say that."

Your heart was burning, but your skin was ice. Dream, they call desire. And he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Always stupidly genuine.

Angel was stock-still, and as you took in his prone form, eyes tracing to his face -- you saw a lone tear slip down his cheek, shaking his head. 

"I miss you, you know?" He chuckled, no humor in his soft, velvet voice. 

"I know."

You were in a fugue state, the rumble of Angel’s bike retreating down the street barely registering as you were processing as you retreated to your bed, the room and your sheets noticeably cooler in Angel’s absence. The room feeling too large without him in it.

As you settled into bed, you noticed it -- Angel’s old shirt, still on your chair. 

You hadn’t thought to return it.

---

The following week found you back in the shop, preparing for your mid-afternoon appointment. You had wiped down the table, changed the wrapping, and were now idly jotting as you waited. Thoughts on one person in particular. 

The bell above the shop door dinged, causing you to look up from the poem you were penning on the lime-green sticky you kept a stack of near your work station. 

Your one o'clock was right on time.

And you were greeted with the sight of Angel striding in with two cups of caffeine, offering one two you as he rested his ringed hand on the counter.

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

Since Angel had departed your place in the middle of the night a week ago, the words between the two of you having had time to simmer and settle, allowing you to process the weight of it all. 

For his part, Angel had given you space. Hadn’t said anything past texting you to tell you he had made it home safely. 

 In the days that had followed, you had cautiously cracked the ice between the two of you, hoping to assuage any awkwardness and rebuild some kind of friendly connection removed from the physical. It was probably better that way. Messaging him idly to ask about his day. Not that you had shared with Angel, but you were also texting Christopher. 

Angel had called the shop, asking if you were available to help him with something he’d wanted to do. Something special, he’d said.

“Something for Ezekiel,” Angel told you. “He’s been through alot lately, with Gaby and the club and everything … been through alot with me lately. Now feels like the right time”

You had, of course, readily agreed. Eager and honored to help Angel with a tribute to his brother. The texts between the two of you changed to exchanges of ideas, you sending him screenshots of your sketches before the two of you had decided on a design that fit. 

You accepted the cup of coffee from Angel gratefully and with a gentle smile, beckoning him behind the counter. Coffee truly was a love language. 

“You can sit in the chair and lean forward, or you can lie on the table. Both are clean. Dealer’s choice,” you said between sips. 

Angel nodded, slugging the last of his coffee and placing the cup down before slipping his shirt over his torso, baring his back to you as he sat in the chair, leaning forward and twisting his abdomen to bare his shoulder blade to you. 

The tawny patch of skin on his shoulder, above the large Mayans tribute that covered the expanse of his back, seemed like the perfect place for something for EZ, the angel (ha ha) on his shoulder and guiding influence in one another’s lives. 

You cleaned and bic’d the area, stenciling your design into the space and getting your kit ready to begin.

Angel watched what he could of you from the corner of his eye, a resonant ache blooming through his chest at the familiarity of this scene. Of you, all business, touching his skin, preparing to impart a piece of yourself that he would wear on his body for the rest of his days. 

You queued up your playlist, the sounds of motown flowing through the shop as you hummed along idly. 

In this moment, Angel knew … he was still in love with you. Likely always would be. You had been far too gracious with him, as you always were -- in the way you had treated him the other night. No mention of your “almost” encounter, for which he was grateful. And he knew he was correct in his assessment of you when you had first started dating -- it was in your nature.

“You mind?” Angel broke the comfortable silence between the two of you, gesturing at the journal-like sketchbook you had left near your station. 

You shook your head in acquiescence, “No. But it’s kind of a mess in there lately,” you acknowledged. “Shit poet, and all.” 

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Angel barked a laugh. “I didn’t insult your poetry, Frida, you did.” 

“Ever the self-deprecating, starving artist,” you sighed dramatically. 

Angel took that as his cue, flipping through the pages of your book. One page felt particularly heavy beneath his fingers. He flipped to it, to be met with dried, pressed flowers that had been delicately glued to the pages, the page covered in a plastic slipsheet -- the dried, dusky pink of peony petals were affixed to the page next to a swath of a white, lacy-looking bloom. 

Around the flowers were sketches of hands that looked suspiciously like Angel’s own, down to the tattoos, and idle lines of poetry. 

Angel furrowed his brows as he glanced at the flowers again.

“You got those flowers for me,” you acknowledged, looking over his shoulder to see the page of your book he had settled on. “One of our first dates, when we went to the park. I’m not sure if you remember.”

Angel’s throat caught in a way that both annoyed and unsettled him. How were you always doing this to him?

“Recuerdo, Frida,” he breathed. “Lo recuerdo todo.” 

You patted his arm gently, resuming your work. 

“I like pressing flowers. It takes a while, but the end result is worth it.” 

You pinched your brows in concentration as you drew along the stenciled lines you’d previously etched into Angel’s shoulder blade, gun buzzing. You began to fill in the minimalist rising sun that was now filling the shoulder blade, stippling the interior as you went, the effect giving the sun an almost stucco-like finish that looked breathtaking against Angel’s golden skin. 

Angel allowed you to continue you work in silence, the weight of the past few days with you settling into his bones. He had pleaded with you, endeared himself to you so much that he had lost his voice. His bones filling with the words he wished he could verbalize. 

He was slowly arriving at that place of acceptance -- Santo Padre was a small town. He would see you. And it appeared that you could now stomach his presence, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Seeing you alone. Hell, even seeing you with someone else, was better than not seeing you at all. 

But once thing was clear -- you were someone who would always be in his life, his memories, his heart.

Angel was lost in his thoughts; you were focused on your work. The only thing that gave any indication as to the passage of time in the room where you two found yourselves was the evolution of your playlist passing through tracks.

Isn’t that how it always was with Angel? Time stood still. 

As you finished his tattoo, you snapped a quick pic for your work Insta -- and maybe, selfishly, for yourself, to admire, too. It’s true, what you had felt all those months ago, and again a week ago -- Angel Reyes was your muse. 

Made to be admired in perpetuity. 

You cleaned and wrapped it, pushing back wordlessly from your seat and making your way to the front as Angel gingerly tugged his shirt back over his head. Quoting the rate over your shoulder, you put Angel's aftercare bag together. But not before slipping the lime sticky in.

“Is that it?” Angel asked, arriving at the front counter, kutte once again in place..

“C’mon, Angelito, you know you get the friends-and-family rate,” you shrugged.

"And is that what we are, querida? Friends?” Angel's voice had none of the bravado it held when he had first spoken these words to you the day you'd met. Now it was cotton soft and carefully tinged with hope. He leaned over the counter.

You shrugged again.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" You tilted the corner of your lips in a gentle, wan half-smile. 

"One day with you, and already friends again?” Angel breezed. You shrugged lightly in response, as he continued, “Or maybe the day after that? A man can hope, Frida."

“You know what they say, Angelito,” your voice was soft, but he’d recognize the teasing lilt anywhere. He’d heard it so often at the breaking dawn of your relationship. Kindness, with a hint of subtle flirtation. It was just how you were. “Hope springs eternal.”

Angel nodded, tossing a few bills on the counter and gently rapping his ringed-knuckles against the counter, a he was wont to do. He smiled gently at you, all glimmering white teeth and high cheeks. 

As Angel walked away, head down and focused on his phone now as he headed out the door and toward his bike, you watched him leave. Your elbow on the counter and head propped in your hand. 

You wondered when Angel would discover the sticky, recalling the words you had written on it. 

my stark moments of clarity between hazy and woebegone memory (thanks to spilled red wine) -- are still marked by the firm hand of your bruising ardor.

Your phone buzzed, breaking you from your reverie as you looked down at the name flashing on the screen, an easy grin blooming across your features.

“Well, hey,” you greeted. Unable to keep the happy chirp from your voice at hearing from him again so soon.

“Hey, mama,” he greeted in that smooth, throaty rasp of his you adored. “You busy later?”   

---

Tagging: @cinewhore @superhoeva @blessedboo @rebeccasficrecs @themarcusmoreno @joannasteez @justanotherblonde23 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @huliabitch @ifimayhaveaword @flightlessangelwings @phoenixhalliwell @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb @ciriswife @witching-hour @lo-la-bu-ro @doloreschanal @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @skyesthebomb @artsymaddie @helli4nthus @xonickibaby @melancholyy-hill @jeonsblackgf-writes @dyke--grayson @pettyprocrastination @moonlight-prose @velvetmel0n @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @ticosas @withmyteeth @chibsytelford @whatupitshuff @themusingofagothicsoul @the-purity-pen @belowva @mayansxlover @emmaveale123 @maddie-georges @kijahslove @supertiffybee @jettia @spnaquakindgdom @abysshaven @starrynite7114 @thesandbeneathmytoes @cyarikashakira @calif0rnia-lovers​

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part one

Summary: Draco and y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin! reader (implied pure blood for the storyline to work)

Warnings: Excessive smoking, mature language, mature themes, no full fledged smut till now. Also please remember that the characters have all been aged up in all of my stories.

18+ Content

A/n: A pack of cigarettes on my desk seduced me into writing this one (smoking is injurious to health)

Word count: 3000

Monday

To say that Draco Malfoy was your friend was a bit of an exaggeration.

The two of you tolerated each other at most.

Having grown up in the same friend circle that consisted of Theo, Blaise, Pansy, you’d both learned how to remain perfectly civil.

Of course, it wasn’t always that easy.Sometimes the blonde git got on your last nerve.

Just last week, Theo had to pull him back by his robe and Pansy had to clutch tightly onto your arm because you and Draco were this close to hexing each other’s faces off.

And today Blaise looked anything but pleased about his choice of seat at your Potions class. The boy who donned a calm, cool and collected—almost condescending expression on most days leaned against the table in a bracing position while you and Draco yelled at each other from his left and right.

“You have to stir it twice. Clockwise.” Draco scoffed rolling his eyes as he watched you stir your Draught of Living Death potion.

“Clockwise y/n—No! no! No— y/n you are doing it all wrong. That’s anti-clockwise! Can you get any more stupid?! Merlin!”

“Why don’t you do it yourself instead of sitting over there, crossing your fucking arms and barking out instructions.” You shot back getting angrier by the minute.

“You should be glad I’m here to give you instructions. If it were up to you, the whole classroom would be up in flames by now.” He said icily, picking up a Sopophorous bean and observing it.

“In case you haven’t noticed already, I never asked for your help Malfoy!”

“And I did not ask to work with you and Zabini on this stupid potion y/l/n.”

“And I most certainly did not ask to be put in between two bickering children but here I am. Life isn’t fair now is it?!” Blaise snapped causing you both to retreat back into your seats.

That’s how your days usually went by.

And your nights...well your nights weren’t particularly any better. In fact, it was always the same old routine.

You stared up at the ceiling and focused on the creaking sound your bed made while your long time boyfriend Adrian Pucey chased his release on top of you.

He was always a blubbering, sweaty mess and you lightly stroked his hair and closed your eyes wondering why you felt nothing at all.

You were devoid of all emotion and pleasure—wondering if you were broken.

There was no pleasure and no pain.

And after Adrian’s quick departure, your room reeked of sex and sweat and your pillow would sometimes be wet with tears.

Sex with Adrian felt like nothing at all even though you loved him.

Adrian was gentle, almost too gentle and you had come to a conclusion that orgasms and passionate sex that left you wanting for more was nothing but a myth.

You channeled all the energy you had left into slipping your clothes back on. You lethargically wiped at your mascara stained cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater before slamming your door shut behind you.

Discreetly, you exited the dungeons and let your feet guide you all the way towards an empty and abandoned classroom with a huge window and a windowsill wide enough for sitting.

Nobody really paid much attention to the classroom and going there felt like hiding in plain sight. Going there in the middle of the night had somewhat become a night time ritual for you.

You quickly got comfortable on the moonlit windowsill and took deep calming breaths—filling your lungs up with the air around you.

The air had a stench of nicotine these past few weeks and It hurt your head at first. But now, you’d learned to ignore it.

Everything felt silent and tranquil for a brief moment until you started to hear moans and groans coming from the other side of the classroom door.

The sounds made your blood freeze and you closed your eyes, mumbling an inaudible prayer to the universe. The last thing you needed was an awkward encounter with the people making out on the other side of the door.

It didn’t take very long before the door started to creak and shake violently.

The creaking only got louder and louder. As did the moaning and groaning and cursing.

Soon, the shaking of the door came to an abrupt halt followed by a shrill post-coital giggle.

You closed your eyes and finally heaved a huge sigh of relief when you heard the pitter patter footsteps walking away from the room.

“What the fuck are you doing here y/l/n?” A familiar voice startled you and you held your breath hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

You opened only one eye and looked at the door that had been flung open.

Draco Malfoy stood on the other side of the now open door with the buckle of his belt still undone, his shirt all disheveled and his silver hair in a state of disarray from being yanked on.

“I would ask you the same question but it’s best if you don’t tell me.” You gagged.

The corners of his lips twisted into a typical Malfoy-esque smirk as he used his thumb to wipe his bottom lip.

“Well, would you like me to show you instead?”

“Smooth.” You muttered, letting out a sarcastic chuckle at his words while he sat down next to you on the windowsill.

Malfoy was the last person you wanted to see that night. Especially after Potions class.

Even though you were looking out the window, you felt his eyes linger on you through your peripheral vision. He was drenched in the moonlight seeping in through the large window giving his place skin a pearlescent glow.

Although Malfoy had maintained an unreadable expression on his face, his prying eyes gave everything away.

“Pucey?” He finally said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been crying haven’t you?” He asked, lifting your chin up with his index finger and observing the redness around your nose and the puffiness around your eyes.

“Since when do you care?” You jeered, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I don’t.” He shrugged abruptly pulling his hand back—letting your face fall.

He turned towards the window, put a cigarette between his lips and lit it up. After taking a long drag, he tilted his head around to look at you again. “I just don’t think Pucey is worth crying over. If you’re crying over hi—”

“Merlin’s beard Malfoy! It’s you. You’ve been smoking your stupid cigarettes here haven’t you?” You cut him off with your eyes widening in realisation.

“I have.”

“And all this time I thought I was hallucinating the smell of smoke.”

“Sorry to break it to you y/l/n but I’ve been coming here since the fourth year.”

Wisps of smoke came out of his mouth and drifted all the way to the tip of your nose when he exhaled.

“I come here all the time.” He continued. “Sometimes alone and sometimes—”

“You bring a poor naive girl here for a quickie.” you finished his sentence coughing and swatting the air around you. “Who were you shagging outside anyway?” You asked, arching your eyebrows.

“Since when do you care?” He retorted.

“Touché.”

~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

“That poor girl you were with last night sounded like she was in pain.” You commented the next night dangling your legs outside the window as Draco stood next you, smoking.

“I am assuming Pucey is horrible in bed then.” He snickered making your cheeks heat up.

“He isn’t horrible.” You protested as he inspected the slightest amount of dust gathered in the corner of the windowsill paying little to no attention to you.

“He’s just…” you trailed off in your pathetic attempt to justify Adrian’s subpar bedroom skills.

“Go on love.” He mocked, lighting up another cigarette and extending his hand to offer you one. "Tell me."

"You are the last person I wanna discuss my sex life with.” You snapped pushing his hand along with the pack of cigarettes away from you.

~~~~~~~~

Wednesday

You gathered your hair up and threw on a silk robe over your slip dress and walked towards your usual spot in the abandoned classroom.

You found yourself subconsciously waiting for Draco to show up as you leaned against the glass window.

After a few minutes, he was quietly standing next to you staring outside the window that overlooked the school courtyard.

He placed a cigarette between his lips and turned to look at you. “You want one?”

You shook your head as you watched him light the one between his lips up—observing the way he inhaled and the way wisps of smoke came out of his mouth.

The wisps drifted your way and you didn’t even bother to fan it away.

Instead you took a sharp breath.

It felt like your brain was slowly associating the scent of smoke with him.

“Didn’t find anybody to shag tonight?” You asked in a feeble attempt to break the silence.

This made him turn his head to look at you—the true blue specks in his otherwise grey eyes glistened in cool tones and you felt a strange ache inside of you.

“Nope. Not anyone that I’d like to shag anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t be surprised if I find you loitering around the Ravenclaw tower in a few nights—considering you have been with every other Slytherin girl I know.”

He shot you a bone chilling glare before flashing a devious looking grin.

“You’re in Slytherin.” Draco drawled, taking a step towards you.

“Your point?” You looked at him quizzically, taking a step back but Draco took a step towards you for every step you took away from him until you felt the coolness of the wall behind your back.

His palms rested on the wall on either side of your face as he stared down at you with his glacial eyes— the mere intensity of his gaze made you want to look away.

It was just too much.

The way his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and the way platinum colored strands of hair fell onto his face helped you understand why girls pined over him. You tried so very hard to hold your breath but failed in miserable fashion has his face inched closer and closer to you.

He let his slender fingertips trail on your waves before tucking the stray bits behind your ears.

“I hardly think I’ll find myself at the Ravenclaw tower anytime soon.” He raspily whispered into your ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday

He was in a rather foul mood that night.

Quidditch practice in the rain had gone on for a bit too long and to top it all off, his father had paid him a visit right after.

“Is everything alright Draco?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest and turning to face the exhausted looking boy standing next to you, with his hair still damp from his shower.

“Just perfect.”

“Doesn’t look like it.” You commented running your eyes up and down his frame, earning a disdainful scoff from him. “Anyway, how was quidditch practice? Adrian was telling me it got quite intense today.”

“Well well, looks like someone is feeling rather chatty tonight.”

“Okay, nevermind the quidditch talk. How’s Narscissa? My mum owled me about the upcoming New year's ball at your Manor—something about an announcement.” You scratched your head trying to remember what the letter said as you looked at him again. The bare minimum light cast soft, fuzzy looking shadows on his angular features.

“You aren’t usually this annoying. Is there any way you will stop with your ramblings!?” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before fumbling with his pocket to pull out another cigarette.

You quickly stood from the windowsill and reached for a very distraught looking Draco’s hand.

“We don't have to talk if you don’t want to, Draco.” You said quietly as you looked up at him.

“Then what do you suggest we do hm, y/n?” He asked more or less rhetorically as he pulled you towards him.

You thought you’d forgotten how to breathe by the way he said your name. You weren’t particularly fond of your name but the way he said it made you want to thank your parents for picking out your name—the same name he said so smoothly and easily, with tension and emphasis on all the right places.

“I—I was thinking we could just quietly sit out here—maybe open up the window and breathe in some fresh air. It's rather pleasant for a rainy night don't you think?” You babbled.

At your mention of a pleasant night, he turned away from you to face the window, occasionally surveying the half smoked cigarette between his fingers as you opened the window.

“We could do that actually.” Draco finally said in a calm voice, taking a prolonged drag from his cigarette from the corner of his mouth and tossing it carelessly to the ground before stomping on it. “Or—”

“Or?”

“Or....” He said with his silver eyes muddled and darkened into an opaque grey. “We could just do this.”

You couldn't even begin to comprehend why or even how, but his nicotine infused lips softly came crashing down onto yours making your heart pound loudly against your ribcage. The way he pressed his lips to yours—the connection made you lightheaded.

What was even more surprising was the fact that you kissed him back even harder.

Compiling to all of his requests.

When he nipped your bottom lip, you parted your mouth.

When his tongue met yours, you moaned softly into this mouth.

When he cupped your face to draw you in closer as his tongue seduced, tantalized, licked, and sucked, you surrendered.

The sweetness of your lips only made him want you more as he wondered how he had gone so long without his lips pressed up against yours, his thumb gently yet possessively caressing your cheek.

And now that he’d gotten a taste, he wasn't sure he could make do without it.

He wanted this.

He needed this.

There was something so sublime, so achingly beautiful about kissing your lips that a million different thoughts encircled his mind.

Why did it suddenly feel like his thirst was gradually being quelled by the way your mouth, your breathing, your pulse melded into his?

Your fingertips intertwining with the hair on the nape of his neck pacified him.

This was unfamiliar territory.

You were both treading uncharted waters and yet, there was something soothing and familiar about the way he ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling and remembering your curves.

“That ought to keep you quiet y/n.” He whispered, his voice hoarse and saturated with yearning as he pulled away.

The rain outside had transformed into a tempestuous storm and the wind brought in splatters of rain drops inside the classroom window colliding against both of your skin and clothes.

You turned your head to look outside. “Looks like the weather is no longer pleasant.”

His eyes mirrored the flash of lighting that lit up the night sky in shades of lilac, yellow and violet back at you as the sky roared.

“But I kinda like the storm you kno—” Your attempt to finish your sentence was futile.

Lightning struck again but this time in the depths of your heart as his cold, damp, rain-soaked lips brushed against yours in an urgent fashion. The way he aggressively moved his lips made you see more colours than just lilac, yellow and violet.

Magnificent shades of cerulean, emerald, crimson, and burgundy. You could see them all.

"I have pictured kissing you a thousand times over in my mind." he murmured into the kiss while the hand he had placed on your waist trailed down to your hips.

“Draco.” You mewled as your hands found their way to the back of his shirt, gripping onto the fabric tightly for support while you let his ravenous mouth place kisses along your jaw and clavicles.

"You drive me...mmmm... fucking insane y/n. You make me.. mmm..so fucking furious" He whispered between kisses with his fingertips digging into your skin hidden under layers of fabric.

"As do you. I know..hmmmm..the difference...fuck...between clockwise and...mmhh..Anticlockwise." You said breathlessly pulling him flush against you.

Draco backed you further into the wall and his fingertips lingered on the string of your silk robe and you guided his hands through the knots and tangles of the string and let the robe fall onto the floor.

He found his way underneath your slip dress and let his hands roam around your bare flesh turning you into a whimpering mess.

Your own hands trailed to the buttons of his shirt as the aching need to feel his bare skin grew.

And when his shirt did hit the ground, you greedily ran your hands all over his firm chest and toned abdomen— your mouth watering while the flimsy fabric of your panties turned damp.

When he felt you palm the tent forming in his trousers, he smirked and the kiss came to an abrupt stop and his eyes fluttered open.

He pressed his forehead against yours—shoulders rising and falling from his heavy breathing.

"Not yet. " He murmured with his breathing still laboured.

"Draco—"

He shut you up with another kiss before backing away and walking towards the door.

"Good night y/n." He smirked, fixing his clothes as he stood near the door.

“Uh, good night?!” You mumbled, dumfounded.

"y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him.

To be continued.....

~~~~~~

Part 2 teaser:

"Took you long enough." Draco breathed,holding you tightly against him as he desperately ran his hands along your sides feeling the fabric of your silky nightdress.

"I was going to stay away. I tried so fucking hard." You whispered, and he instantly placed his lips onto yours furrowing his brows as you fiercely kissed him back.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @maybesandohnos ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

Message me if you want to be on my tag list.

[httpjeon]

a piece of you — taehyung+jungkook (m.)

taehyung/reader/jungkook | smut, fluff | abo!au, camcouple!au

wordcount: 13.9k

contents: sex work (cam porn), dirty talk, dom/sub themes, pussy spanking, knotting, degrading names (bitch mostly), praise kink, tae is whipped, cam sex, threesome, voyeurism (tae watches), brief handjob, slight biting, theres a slight fight for dominance between taekook, creampie, masturbation, possessiveness, accidentally ruined orgasm, humiliation, jk is a bit gay for tae tbh, lots pet names, use of Alpha and Omega titles, blowjob, fingering, orgasm denial, light cum play, squirting

— synopsis: your alpha boyfriend does cam porn and convinces you to join him one night. somehow, there seems to be a fan of the two of you on campus.

note: this has like 5 fuckin smut scenes and was honestly mostly an excuse to write both a camcouple!au and abo smut...also i write a lot of taekook idk why

blog masterlist

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

"I'm thinking of streaming tonight," Taehyung was panting as he jogged up behind you, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

"Oh?" you turned your head to let him press a soft kiss to your cheek before he took your hand in his.

"Yeah, did you have anything you wanted to do tonight instead? I can do it another day," he offered.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, you can do it."

"Awesome," he squeezed your hand, beginning to swing them between your bodies.

Taehyung and you talked the whole way back to your apartment — a short trek since you got one as close to campus as you could. He explained the upcoming test he had in Chemistry and how much he was dreading it — debating on getting a tutor so his already low grade wouldn't drop more.

You pulled your keys from your pocked as you approached your door. Taehyung slipped by as you pushed the door open, toeing his shoes off before making a beeline for the bathroom.

As you heard him start the shower, you went to the kitchen to make some ramen. He preferred the burning, hot spicy flavor but you didn't so made his first.

Just as it finished cooking, he entered the kitchen toweling his hair off. He was dressed in sweatpants and you could tell he had nothing on beneath them.

"Ah, you're an angel," he gasped dramatically as you put the bowl down in front of him as he sat at the table.

The two of you ate together, sharing casual conversation as you did so. The time was ticking down to when Taehyung would usually start his live stream so he quickly finished, pressed a kiss to the top of your head before finally disappearing into the bedroom.

As you finished your own dinner, you heard the blow dryer turn on. Placing the bowls in the sink, you vowed to wash them later before heading to the bathroom to shower as well.

You used some of Taehyung's body wash instead of your own, knowing your scent mixed with his would drive him crazy during his livestream.

When you entered the bedroom, Taehyung was sitting on the bed, the camera set up and the laptop sitting on a table at the end of the bed. His eyes were glued to the screen, presumably reading comments.

He glanced up when you entered, a small smile playing on his face. You wore just a towel and opted to wear one of his t-shirts, knowing he enjoyed it. The act of watching him live stream to thousands of people while you sat out of view just teasing him with your presence — it riled him up and made the stream that much better.

Sitting on the chair near the window, you pulled your knees to your chest as a light chill ran through you. Your hair was still wet so you continued to pat it dry as taehyung officially began.

"Ah, we're quite split between alpha and omega viewers today aren't we?" Taehyung said as he knelt on the bed.

He was still just in his sweatpants but you could tell he was growing hard beneath them. The sight of you in his clothes and your scent mixed with his was no doubt aiding his arousal.

"As usual...your tips are highly appreciated and if you're new; there is a list on the side bar with tip goals. As we reach each tip...each option becomes unlocked!" he grinned into the camera and sat back, a brow raised as the tips began to pour in.

You stood up, motioning to taehyung that you'd be right back. He smiled and gave a small nod before he began to read some comments.

You wandered into the kitchen, locating your phone on the counter. You snatched it up and went back to the bedroom.

Once you stepped inside, you were knocked breathless for a second. Taehyung was leaning back, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he stroked himself through his sweats. His eyes flicked to you once you stepped into the room and you could see him inhale deeply, his lashes fluttering.

You bit back a smile and returned to your chair, Taehyung's eyes following you the whole way. Sitting down, you crossed one leg over the other and got comfortable while taehyung continued to flirt with the viewers.

You unlocked your phone and logged into the website to view Taehyung's stream. Immediately, your phone was filled with the comments of the viewers.

Your boyfriend was definitely one of the more popular cammers around. Symbols indicating Alpha and Omega blurred by with a yellow Beta would pop in every once in a while. It surprised you both to know that so many Alphas were interested in watching another Alpha get off.

Compliments flooded in but Taehyung's eyes were focused on you. His tongue slid across his bottom lip as he inhaled, your familiar scent making him smile.

Every move he made was so familiar to you — having experienced his touch for years. His hand reached into his sweats to pull the band down beneath his balls to expose his leaking cock to the cool air in the bedroom. He visibly shivered at the feeling, mouth falling open as he tapped the very tip of himself.

He met your eyes and brought his finger to his lips, popping the digit in his mouth. You clenched your thighs together as he made a show of tasting his own precum.

He smiled, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock and sighed in relief. The slight swell where his knot was so sensitive to the touch his thighs twitched closed at the feeling. His mouth fell open as he began to stroke himself.

Your were lost watching the way his hand moved, precum dripping from the tip. He avoided his knot so as to not overstimulate himself. There had been times he used his knot to ruin his own orgasm — something that sent the viewers crazy. Afterwards, you would sit on your knees and suck him off until he came down your throat. Just the thought of his sweet voice calling you his good girl had you dripping into your panties.

"Fuck..." Taehyung sighed, head falling back as he lifted his hips to fuck into his own fist.

The sight was too much that it had you placing your phone to the side. taehyung glanced at you when he saw the movement, jaw clenched tight as you reached beneath the shirt you wore to pull your panties down your legs.

His grip on his cock tightened as you spread your legs. Baring his teeth, he inhaled deeply to take in the sweet scent of your arousal.

You circled your clit with your finger. Taehyung's eyes were locked on every movement you made. The stream was all but forgotten as he was zeroed in on everything that you were doing. He pumped his cock almost desperately, soft moans of pleasure escaping his pretty lips.

You covered your mouth to stop your own sounds from escaping. taehyung let out a low growl — he wanted to hear you.

"I'm going to cum..." Taehyung huffed, finally returning his view to the computer screen.

Comments flooded in — some teasing him for cumming so quickly and others begging him to let them see him cum.

You halted your own movements to watch him. His thighs trembled as he stopped stroking his cock. His hand wrapped around his knot, cock twitching a couple times before cum finally began to spill from the tip. Mouth falling open, the sweetest whimper fell from his lips as his orgasm ran through him.

Your eyes were locked on his throbbing cock as it drooled cum. Subconsciously, you licked your lips. How you wanted to taste his cum.

Your core was clenching pathetically around nothing as you waited for him to close up his stream. He left his cock out — still hard despite the fact he had cum.

As soon as the laptop was shut, he was off the bed and on his knees in front of you.

"My pretty Omega," he growled, arms wrapping around your thighs to expose your wet cunt to his insatiable mouth.

"A-Al—" you were cut off by his lips catching your sensitive clit.

His tongue was hot as it swirled around the bud. Your mouth fell open at the endless pleasure his mouth brought you.

Taehyung's eyes never left you, even as you grabbed his wrist to bring to your mouth. His fingers, still covered in his cum, were suddenly caught in your mouth. Your tongue swirled over every inch of skin to greedily swallow his cum down.

He growled into your cunt, doubling his efforts on eating you out. The way you were desperate to taste his cum as his cock throbbing once more.

"G-Gonna cum..." you warned as you pulled his fingers free from your mouth.

Taehyung detached his mouth from your bud, making you whine.

"Already?" he raised his brow, making you flush at his teasing, "Watching me get off always makes this sweet cunt wet, doesn't it?"

"L-Love it!" you were trembling as he used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back, blowing against the exposed bud.

"Love what, Omega?" he growled.

"Love watching Alpha get himself off..." Taehyung grinned at the bashful way the words slipped from your lips.

"Good girl," he cooed.

You didn't have time to appreciate the praise before his tongue was on your clit again. Crying out, you wrapped your hands up in his hair. He didn't mind as you tugged as your thighs trembled around his head.

Your high was growing, making you tremble and cry out his name. Taehyung relished in hearing your pleasure as he felt your bud throb beneath his tongue.

The taste of his cum lingered on your tongue and the image of his throbbing cock drooling for you finally sent you over the edge. Taehyung diligently worked you through the high until you were pushing him off.

He was on his feet in a second, hand wrapped around his cock. You leaned forward, replacing his grip and grinned.

"You didn't knot," Taehyung couldn't respond before you were taking his cock into your mouth.

You moaned around him as you tasted the cum that still lingered of the velvet soft from his earlier orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, tangling a hand in your hair, "Let me fuck your mouth, babygirl,"

You nodded, eyes shining as you looked up at him. He grinned, thrusting forward until he hit the back of your throat. Your hands came up to his thighs to hold into him as you felt his cock push past your gag reflex.

Taehyung's cock was big — something he was very aware and proud of. He loved watching you struggle to take all of him. Your throat was tight around his cock and he growled, his grip on your hair beginning to burn. Your eyes were teary but you maintained eye contact, making him grin proudly.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, watching your lashes flutter at the praise.

You let out a soft gasp as he pulled back but quickly wrapped your lips around him once again. His precum lingered on your tongue and you whimpered, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants. Turned on by your eagerness, he pushed back into your throat once again.

Reaching up, you wrapped your hand around the slight swell of his knot. He groaned, trembling at the sensitivity. Instead of fucking into your throat, he used his grip on your hair to force your throat down onto his cock.

You were pliant, letting him use you however he needed. His cock began to throb as he got closer.

"Gonna cum down your throat," he whispered, breathless as the pleasure grew.

You could feel his thighs tense beneath your hands and soon enough, he was pausing his movements. His cock throbbed and you whimpered — he was too deep in your throat to feel him cum but the way he let out a groan let you know he had reached his high. He was still for several seconds before he finally pulled free of your throat.

You let out a heavy breath, releasing your grip on the base of his cock. He wore a cocky smirk as he tucked himself back into his sweatpants.

Swooping down, he pressed his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips as you stood up, pulling your body flush against his. He was so warm, hand sliding softly up your back as he pulled away and smiled at you.

"Wanna shower?" he asked.

"I guess we should..." standing on your tippy toes, your pressed your lips softly to his once again before you separated to make your way to the bathroom.

Fresh out of the shower, the two of you snuggled together beneath the duvet. His scent was all around you, calming you and nearly putting you to sleep. His arm was around you as your head was pressed against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“_______?" he asked, voice thick with lingering sleep. You hummed in response, letting him know you were listening, "Would you ever join me for a cam show?"

You were quiet for a second, taking in the request before sitting up on your elbow to look down at him. In the dim light, you could make out a soft smile on his lips.

"I doubt your viewers would appreciate my sudden appearance...they subscribed to you, not a couple's channel," you shrugged, though you hadn't given him a yes or no.

"They already know you exist," he placed his hand on the back of your head to urge you to lay back down on his chest.

"Do they?" you asked, surprised.

He nodded, "I've mentioned you in passing and stuff..." he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and ran his fingers along your arm, "Would you if they wanted you to join?"

"...Yeah, I think it'd be fun," you smiled as you snuggled back into him. Taehyung nodded and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly.

The next day you both had off and you were awoken by your boyfriend launching himself into the bed to wake you.

"Wh-What are you doing up so early?" you mumbled into the pillow, letting him know you were alert.

"Here, look!" he tugged your arm until you were sitting on your heels frowning at him.

"What?" you mumbled, squinting as he pushed his phone into your face.

As your eyes adjusted, you realized you were on Taehyung's cam account. The fiery red symbol indicating his Alpha status beside a verified tick was the first thing that caught your eye.

Scrolling down a bit, you found what he no doubt wanted you to see; it was a poll.

"Would my viewers be okay with a stream involving my girlfriend as well?"

"Wow..." you looked at the results 92% were approval.

"So..." Taehyung didn't bother hiding his smile.

"I guess we can give it a try..." shrugging your shoulders sheepishly, you gave him a half smile.

Taehyung swooped down to press his lips to yours, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close to him.

"You need to brush your teeth," he mumbled, making you roll your eyes.

"You're the one who kissed me," you fired back, making him laugh.

Through the week, you got swamped in school work. You were suddenly given assignment after assignment that ended up taking up all your time and effectively stressing you out.

Taehyung took notice and watched you throughout the week until Friday night when you were sitting at your desk nearly pulling your hair out over the massive block you had over finishing your essay.

"Baby..." he mumbled from the doorway, sighing when you didn't even notice him. He sighed, walking over to you, placing a hand on your back. You jumped and looked up at him, frowning, "You've been at this all day."

"I have to finish," you replied, shrugging as you turned your gaze back to your laptop.

"Take a break, ______," he mumbled, rubbing your back softly.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, "It's only 9...just give me 3 more hours."

"______," he grumbled when you went back to your computer, ignoring him.

You could feel his patience running thin and usually you wouldn't test him but for some reason, the more irritated he got, the more you wanted to prod. As you continued to ignore him, he stood up straight and stared down at you. You weren't actually paying attention to your computer anymore — too focused on Taehyung standing beside you.

In a split second, his hand was around the back of your neck. You gasped as he made you look back up at him.

"Are you playing games, Omega?" he growled, catching onto your game when he saw the hungry look in your eyes.

"N-No..." you whispered, lying through your teeth.

Taehyung let out a low chuckle, sending a shiver through you. The power he emitted had you dripping into your panties.

"Come with me," he hissed, keeping his grip on you to lead you to the bedroom.

You both paused when you got inside. Taehyung had the streaming equipment up, reminding you that tonight was the night you were meant to do your first live with him. Looking back at Taehyung, you swallowed thickly at the dark look in his eyes.

"Get on the bed," he ordered, finally releasing his hold on you.

Without wasting a second hesitating, you climbed onto the bed and sat on your heels. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him turn everything on. You appeared on the screen and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The red light turned on indicating you were now live. Immediately, the number of viewers began to go up. The comments flooded in but you were unable to read them due to the speed they were going.

Taehyung stood behind the camera, simply watching you.

"Introduce yourself, babygirl," the smirk on his lips grew as he noticed how nervous you were.

"I...what do I say?" you mumbled, heart racing in your chest.

"How about..." he rounded the camera set up and over to the side of the bed. He was in view but half of him was cut off as he was still standing. Your mouth ran dry when you reached out to wrap his hand around your throat, "You tell them you're my little bitch, huh?"

You gasped at the name, feeling your core burn with arousal as he chuckled at your reaction. He could see the goosebumps rise over your skin and could feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers as he held your throat. Releasing his grip, he motioned to the camera. Your gaze was already becoming glassy as he brought your submissive side out.

"I-I'm V's l-little bitch," you choked out, squeezing your thighs together once more.

Taehyung chuckled, climbing onto the bed behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Wrapping his arms around you, you noticed him place his phone down. When you glanced over, you could see it was open to the stream's comments.

"She's my sweet little Omega," Taehyung introduced properly, gripping your chin and running his thumb over your lips. You opened up and took the digit into your mouth immediately, making him smirk, "I asked how you would all feel about having her join and she agreed so...here we are. Unfortunately, she's been acting a little bad tonight so I'm going to have to punish her."

You whimpered around his thumb and he chuckled, sliding his hand down your clothed body to cup your heat through your sweatpants.

"What do you say..." he took his thumb from your mouth so you would be able to speak, "The highest tipper gets to decide your punishment, hm?"

"But..." you shifted where you sat, leaning more of your weight on him. He wrapped his arms securely around you, pressing his lips to your hair as you thought of what you wanted to say, "How long do we have to wait?"

Taehyung hummed, sliding out from behind you. You whined at the loss of his heat as you watched him sit on the end of the bed in front of the laptop. He clicked around on the screen for a moment and you took a moment to admire how good he looked from behind with his broad shoulders and white t-shirt showing you the barest hint of his back muscles that flexed with his movement. Scooting forward, you press yourself against his back.

You could see him grin from the screen and it made your heart flutter. Sitting up on your knees, you wrapped your arms around him. Your lips found his neck and he sighed, move his head to the side to give your more access to the sensitive skin.

After a moment of clicking and typing, he finally leaned back.

"You're so needy," he commented, making you giggle as you nodded.

"What did you do?" you asked, referring to the stream.

"Right, so everyone..." you both turned your gaze back to the camera set up, "I've set up an auction type of tipping. Basically in the given time limit, you can tip us and whoever gives the highest amount gets to decide the punishment for my little bitch."

"Tae..." you whimpered, feeling him stiffen for a second before he turned around and pinned you to the bed. As he placed his hand over your mouth, eyes narrowed in a sharp glare, you realized what happened — you referred to him by his actual name.

"What did you call me, Omega?" he snarled, making you whimper into his hand.

"Alpha..." your words were muffled but made him grin anyway before he pulled his hand away.

“You're on thin ice, little girl,” he growled, nose to nose with you, “You want to add onto your punishment?”

“N-No, Alpha…” you breathed, body feeling hot for his touch.

“That's what I thought,” he hissed, “You better be good then, huh?”

“I-I will, Alpha!” you shivered at the proud smirk that crossed over his face.

"My good little bitch," he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, "Are you wet for me?"

"Y-Yes, Alpha..." you keened, arching your back as he slid his hand down your body once again. This time, he slid his hand down your sweats and into your panties. Your breath stuttered at the feeling of his fingers sliding between your folds, spreading you open so he could circle your clit with his middle finger.

"Yes, you are..." he groaned, burying his face in your neck to lick and nip at the fragile skin until you were whimpering and throwing your head back to allow him more access.

"P-Please, T-Alpha..." you begged, gripping his shirt in your trembling hands.

He cooed, pulling back to meet your gaze with soft eyes.You pouted when he pulled his hand from in your panties. He pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss that betrayed the dominant Alpha role he was playing. Sitting up, he pulled his shirt off — making you sigh before reaching up to touch his bare skin. He bit back a smile, taking your hand in his and pressing it over his chest where his heart was racing.

"Let's get your shirt off and show everyone your pretty tits, hm?" his voice was still laced with a hint of softness but the dominance in it had you obeying immediately.

Sitting up, you allowed him to pull the fabric over your head so you were bare from the waist up. Taehyung growled, immediately cupping your breasts in his hands. You sighed, pushing your chest out and biting your lip to let him do as he pleased.

He pinched one of your nipples until you hissed before leaning down to take it into his mouth, soothing the soreness away with his tongue. Pulling back, he moved to sit behind you could see yourself on the screen.

Your hair was messed up and your lips were swollen from biting them. Taehyung grinned from behind you as he saw the tips beginning to come even faster.

Of course the viewers would be eager to punish you after seeing his Omega's pretty body. The thought filled him with pride and he couldn't help but lean down to press soft kisses against your neck as he cupped your breasts once more.

"My pretty Omega, huh?" he grinned, watching as the comments flooded with responses and praises towards you, "Bet every Alpha is jealous only I get to see you like this huh? Torture your little nipples and stuff your pretty cunt..."

Your mouth fell open in a breathless whine at his words, your panties beginning to stick uncomfortably to you because of how wet they'd become. Taehyung let out an almost sadistic chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine before you felt his thumbs hook into the band of your sweats. You eagerly lifted your hips, leaning your weight back on him until you were left in your panties.

"Spread your legs, baby," he growled, eyes on the screen to watch you do as you were told.

He groaned against your neck at the sight of your once white panties turned transparent from how wet you were. The fabric molded to your folds, leaving barely anything to the imagination.

He cursed under his breath, grabbing the band of your panties to tear them but you whined and slapped his hand away to stop him. He couldn't help but chuckle as you pulled them off yourself to save the pair of panties from his destructive hands.

Your face burned hot when you suddenly found yourself completely spread open on camera. Taehyung held you beneath the knees, forcing your legs apart so the viewers could see the way your wet folds parted to give the barest peek of your slit and clit.

His cock was painfully hard in his pants but before he could think to go any further, there was a loud chime from the computer. You both paused to look at what it was.

"Ah, your punishment has been decided," he chuckled darkly, feeling you stiffen in his arms.

Of course you knew he wouldn't do anything that could genuinely hurt you or something he knew you were uncomfortable with. Still, the aspect of an outside voice being the decision in your punishment made your heart stutter.

"Well well..." the excitement in your boyfriend's voice had a pit forming in your stomach, "Looks like my little bitch is going to get her little cunt spanked."

You felt yourself clench pathetically around nothing, no doubt gushing more arousal. Taehyung manhandled you into the same position you were in with your back to his chest and your legs spread obscenely wide to show your wet folds.

He hummed, cupping your core and spreading you open with two fingers. Your face was hot with embarrassment listening to the way he told the viewers how pretty your pussy was. His digits gathered your wetness and he took a moment to circle your clit until he could hear your breathing pick up.

Then, as you were lost in the growing pleasure he brought his hand down in a sharp smack that had your body stiffening in shock. It stung, leaving a burn in the wake of the impact. He found your clit once again, giving a sharp slap to your thigh when your legs flinched closed in fear of another hit.

"Hold your legs open," he ordered, waiting until you hooked your arms under your own knees — leaving your pussy vulnerable for another smack.

Taehyung didn't waste another second in giving you on. It made you hiss as the burn of the previous hit still lingered. He didn't bother trying to soothe the ache now, instead supplied another hit directly to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the painful pleasure it caused when he hit your bud. A series of quick slaps rained down on your pussy until you finally cried out.

"Ah, good girl..." he whispered in your ear, running his fingers over your folds to soothe the ache, "Took your punishment like such a good little bitch."

"Alpha..." you sniffled, your watery eyes finally vanishing along with the hits.

"I think you deserve a reward now, huh?" his voice was soft once again with your punishment over. He pressed a kiss to your temple when you eagerly nodded your head, "How about I make my sweet Omega cum."

Licking your lips, your body relaxed against him when his touch found your clit again. His touch was experienced and familiar, making you sigh in pleasure.

"Alpha, please..." you whined, looking up at him, "P-Put your fingers inside please."

"So polite...good girl," he cooed, easily sliding two fingers into your entrance.

There was a burn, his fingers were big and he'd gone with two immediately but you both knew that you loved when it hurt a bit. He let out soft moans in your ear as he watched your cunt eagerly swallow his fingers. Every time he pulled out, he could see the way your juices clung to his skin and he felt his mouth water at the thought o tasting you.

Angling his fingers up, he found your spot with quick ease, having memorized your body even better than you. You hips kicked up in response, abandoning your hold on your knees to grip onto his arms.

Your nails dug into his skin, though he didn't really notice the slight pinch. He was too focused on the way your walls fluttered around his fingers with your impending orgasm. He found your clit with his other hand, giving a few quick circles to your bud before you came. He continued to fuck you with his fingers, milking every second of your high until your legs clamped shut around his hand to stop the overstimulation.

"Shit, you're such a good girl," he whispered, bringing his fingers to his mouth. The groan he let out with your sweet cum met his tongue was lewd — making your cheeks burn.

"Alpha," you sighed, sitting up to finally separate yourself from him.

He grinned, gripping your hips as you stood on your knees, using his shoulders as support to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The two of you sat like that, lips moving eagerly together as his hands continued to wander your body.

"What is it baby?" he breathed when you pulled away.

"Want your cock, Alpha," you begged, making him groan as his cock twitched in his pants.

"Yeah?" he chuckled, "Alright baby, lay back."

You hurried to get into position, spreading your legs eagerly for him to take his place. He crawled between your legs, hovering over your body with his hands on either side of your head. He pressed his lips against yours, rolling his clothed cock against your sensitive folds. The texture almost hurt but it was so good it had you gasping into his mouth. He grinned against your lips as your reaction before pulling back to rid himself of the final article of clothing.

He wrapped his fist around his cock, stroking himself a couple times to watch you lustfully lick your lips. Running the tip of himself between your folds, he watched your thighs tremble at the tease of having him so close but not where you wanted just yet.

"What do you say, Omega?" he growled, slapping your clit a couple times with the head of his cock.

"Please fuck me, Alpha," you immediately moaned, biting your lip as he finally began to press inside.

"Good girl," he groaned, voice choked by the feeling of your cunt stretching around his cock.

Your eyes fluttered and you were trembling by the time he bottomed out.

"S-So full..." you mewled, making him grin.

"Yeah? Your Alpha's fat cock stuffing you full, huh?" he asked as he pulled back out, feeling your wetness cling to him.

"F-Fuck, yes..." you replied, arching your hips when he sunk back into you.

His cock was hot and throbbing against your walls. As he fucked you, the wet sound of your cunt swallowing him reached his ears. He groaned, the fact you got so wet for him making him even harder.

He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, making you gasp at the added pleasure. Your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and you cupped your other one to pinch your neglected nipple.

A sharp nip to the bud made you gasp, your walls clenching around his cock. He grunted, pulling away completely to sit back on his heels. Holding you beneath your knees, he doubled his speed and began to fuck you roughly.

The swell of his knot was forming and your pussy fluttered around him in anticipation. Crying out, your back arched at the burst of pleasure when he hit your spot. He chuckled, his heart swelling with pride knowing everyone watching could see how well he fucked his cute Omega.

"A-Alpha...y-you're gonna make m-me cum..." you whimpered, cupping both of your breasts now.

He grinned, watching you pull and pinch at your nipples, "Yeah? My pretty little bitch wants to cum?"

"Y-Yes, please!" you begged, arching your hips up to meet his thrusts. It made him sink even deeper into you, kissing your cervix and making your eyes roll back.

He reached between your thighs and found your clit with his thumb. The bud was hard and swollen from your previous orgasm. Still sensitive, it didn't take long for you to reach the edge.

"Cum, babygirl," he panted, never letting up on his thrusts, determined to get you to cum, "Cream on my cock, you can do it. Show everyone how pretty you are when you cum on your Alpha's knot."

His words were punctuated by his knot popping into your cunt, setting you off immediately. He cursed, falling forward and catching himself on his hands.

You were lost in the euphoria of your high, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's shoulders to hold onto him. He groaned into your neck, feeling his knot throb almost painfully as he came. The feeling of his cum filling your cunt made your high that much more amazing — feeling him knot you was unlike anything you'd experienced.

Before long, the two of you were coming down. Taehyung pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders before reaching your lips. You were still trembling, walls still spasming around him from the power of your orgasm.

"Such a good girl," he praised against your lips, "My sweet Omega, so pretty..."

You basked in his praise and compliments as they helped your body settle down until his knot deflated enough for him to comfortably pull out. Once he did, he turned back to the laptop with a lazy grin.

"Thanks for watching, I guess," he chuckled, feeling you curl yourself around him from behind, "I've got to hurry and shut this down but thank you for your tips and there will be a poll posted later tonight that you should be sure to check out."

He reached forward and immediately turned the stream off and returned his attention to you. You clung to him, feeling a strong desire to be close with your Alpha. He naturally obliged, wrapping you up in his arms as you laid together on the bed.

With his fingers gently caressing your skin, you let your eyes fall shut to sleep.

“I can’t believe so many people are interested in this becoming a regular thing…” you mumbled as you say on your boyfriend’s lap, his account open on comments about the previous nights stream. Over the course of the weekend you'd gathered up hundreds of comments praising you and asking to see you more — rather solo or more couple streams.

“Pretty cool,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “What do you think?”

“I had a lot of fun so…” you shrugged, looking over your shoulder to smile at him, “I think it'd be nice to do every once in a while.”

“God, I love you,” he grinned, giving you a quick squeeze before you hopped off his lap and left the room.

“Don’t forget we have class at 3,” you called from the hallway as you made your way to the kitchen, intending to cook a quick breakfast.

Throwing you coat on, you jogged down the hallway to meet Taehyung where he was waiting by the door with his car keys in hand. He smiled as you came into view, reaching up to smooth down a stray piece of your hair.

“Ready to go?” he asked, opening the door.

“As I’ll ever be,” you mumbled, wincing as the cold winter air met your warm skin.

You were shivering by the time you made it to the car, waiting for Taehyung to get in and unlock it for you. He was laughing at your pout as you finally sat down and shut the door.

“We need to get that stupid...key thing unlocked,” you whined, referring to the keyfob that had ceased working a few months ago.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Taehyung mumbled sarcastically as he started the car.

You were dreading getting out of the car when he finally parked on campus. It was beginning to snow, little flurries falling and sticking to the windshield. Pulling the hood of your jacket up, you hopped out of the car and met Taehyung on the other side.

He held his hand out, giving yours a little squeeze when you slipped your fingers between his. He kept a strong grip on you, making sure you didn’t lose your footing on the increasingly slick snow-covered ground.

You and Taehyung shared the first class that day before you ended up separating. By the time you reunited, you were both tired and eager to see one another again.

He was waiting in the campus cafe when you were finally let out of your last class. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips before taking a seat across from him.

“Um...excuse me,” a soft voice nervously called from beside you, drawing both yours and Taehyung’s attention.

“Can I help you?” Taehyung asked, eyeing the young man standing there.

He was about the same height as Taehyung with long, curly bangs peeking out from beneath the beanie that sat atop his head. One hand was shoved into his jeans pocket and the other held his backpack on his other shoulder. It took one look at him to know he was an Alpha.

“This...is going to sound weird and I’m sorry but…” the stranger shifted on his feet and his cheeks turned a bit pink, “Are you...V from abocams?”

You and Taehyung shared a look of surprise before looking back at the stranger.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered honestly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I...I guess you could say I’m a fan. I caught the stream on Friday,” he said, seeming to relax once he knew he had the right person, “I’m Jungkook.”

“Taehyung,” your boyfriend reached out and shook his hand before gesturing to you, “My girlfriend, _____.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, also shaking his hand.

“How about you have a seat, we were just going to order some food,” Taehyung offered, motioning to the empty seat beside you.

“Really? Thanks!” Jungkook grinned, a cute bunny-like smile before pulling the chair out and dropping his backpack on the ground as he took a seat.

“So how old are you, Jungkook?” Taehyung asked as he looked over the flimsy menu before him.

“22 now,” was the response, making Taehyung hum.

“You’re younger than me,” the younger Alpha nodded as if he already knew it — though he probably did since Taehyung’s age was listed on his profile.

You glanced beside you to where Jungkook sat. He smelled good, a delicate scent of perfume wafting from him. He had broad shoulders, a sharp jawline and thick thighs that were encased perfectly by his jeans.

Looking away, you caught Taehyung’s gaze. He had a brow raised and a lazy smirk on his lips, making your cheeks flush at being caught checking out Jungkook.

After the three of you ordered food, you began to talk. Jungkook was surprisingly easy to relax around — he was funny and charismatic. He and Taehyung shared banter like the two of them had been friends for ages. You learned that Jungkook was in his 3rd year of university with a major in graphic design. He lived alone after moving from his home in Busan, having moved to Seoul for college.

When it was time to go, Taehyung asked for his number and you parted ways with a promise of meeting again.

Sure enough, the three of you met up again. Since school was closed for a Student’s Day on Friday, you all went to get some lunch.

It was a quiet, rustic little restaurant near your apartment that had some delicious grilled chicken that made your mouth water. Jungkook was a bit late but you and Taehyung ordered a couple drinks anyway. Your stomach was growling by the time Jungkook came stumbling up to the table.

“Sorry, there was an accident blocking traffic,” he mumbled, taking a seat beside Taehyung. You were left on your own side of the booth, much to your delight.

“It’s fine,” Taehyung waved him off handing him the menu he was no longer using since he’d decided what he wanted.

“Thanks,” the younger grinned, making you smile subconsciously. It was contagious and something about the younger Alpha made you feel happy — he was such a bright, lovely person to have around, “I was wondering if you guys want to get some drinks tonight?”

“We can’t,” you mumbled immediately with a frown.

“We stream Fridays,” Taehyung supplied after seeing Jungkook’s confused face.

“Oh, that’s right...I don’t know how I forgot,” Jungkook chuckled, closing the menu before waving the waiter over.

“Sorry, Jungkook…” you pouted, “Maybe we can go Saturday?”

Before he could answer your invite, the waiter came up and you all got distracted giving you orders. Giving the menus back, you got settled down once again to wait for your food to arrive.

“So…” Jungkook pursed his lips, looking from you to Taehyung, “Can I know what’s going on tonight?”

“We never agreed to spoilers when this friendship started, Jungkook,” Taehyung teased with a wide grin, making Jungkook whine.

“Oh, come on!” the younger whined, sinking lower in his seat.

“It’s another couple stream,” you said, making Taehyung squint a playful glare at you. You giggled and stuck your tongue out at him.

“Oh thank god,” Jungkook whispered, tossing his head back with a sigh.

Surprisingly, there was nothing awkward knowing Jungkook watched the two of you have sex on camera. Nor did it bother either of you that he was openly into it — really into it. Despite the fact you’d become quick friends, it didn’t halt Jungkook fanboy qualities. Taehyung also seemed quite flattered that the younger was obviously also attracted to him.

It wasn’t something unheard of — Alpha-only relationships did exist. They were usually treated as taboo which was probably so many Alphas watched Alpha cammers. It was a safe alternative than the social stigma. Although, with the younger generation, it was definitely becoming a more widely accepted relationship.

Jungkook didn’t seem bothered in the slightest as he was open in the fact he enjoyed watching Taehyung on his own as well. He’d called your boyfriend hot several times and neither of you really batted an eye. He was confident and sure of himself despite his young age.

Before it got too late, you and Taehyung decided to get home so you could prepare for the stream. You bid Jungkook goodbye, blushing when he expressed his excitement for tonight.

Stumbling into your apartment, your heart was racing with excitement. You always felt excitement when you knew you’d get to feel Taehyung’s touch. No matter what, you always craved the Alpha’s rough hands and soft lips on your skin.

It was no different that night when you found yourself on your hands and knees with Taehyung's cock splitting you open. You bit the sheets to muffle your cry as you were fucked into another orgasm.

"Fuck!" Taehyung snarled, slapping your ass to make you flinch, "You're cummin' so much tonight — is it because someone is watching?"

Your cheeks flushed hot at what he was insinuating — and it was true.

The fact Jungkook was watching, maybe fucking his knot into a fleshlight imagining it was you. You moaned at the idea, your walls clenching around your boyfriend's cock making him hiss.

"What're you thinking about, babygirl?" he chuckled, tangling his hand in your hair to pull you up on your knees. With your back pressed against his chest, he was able to whisper in your ear so the mic wouldn't pick it up, "About Jungkook? About how it would feel to have another knot you while I watch?"

"A-Alpha..." you gasped, eyes rolling back s you fucked yourself on his cock.

The position offered a perfect angle for his cock to hit that spot and had you clenching once again. Taehyung chuckled, letting you use his cock how you needed. However, when you reached down to find your clit, he slapped your hand away.

"Don't you dare," he growled, "You better cum like this, slut, punishment for thinking of another Alpha."

You sobbed, hanging your head as you were forced to take it. It felt like you were stuck on the edge, unable to fall over without the sweet touch on your clit. Taehyung chuckled, cupping one of your breasts to pinch your nipple.

It had you gasping but still wasn't enough to get you off. He took sadistic pleasure in hearing you whine and sob as you were kept on edge, creaming on his cock and clenching him so tight he almost couldn't move.

"What is it?" he whispered, seeing the glisten of a tear on your cheek, "Does it hurt?"

"Mhmm," you whimpered, tossing your head back to rest it on your shoulder.

"Aw, poor baby," the condescending tone made your bottom lip tremble but made him grin.

"Please!" you cried, rolling your hips back on him.

"Please what?" he teased, feeling you tremble in his hold.

"L-Let me cum!" you begged, the heat from your denied orgasm becoming painful.

"Aw, poor baby can't cum on her own?" you let out a choked whine of humiliation, "Need your Alpha to make you cum?"

"Yes! Please make me cum!" the desperation in your voice finally set him in motion.

Pushing you down so you face was in the bed once again, he shifted on his knees to finally resume properly fucking you. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream when his hand finally found your clit.

It was impossibly easy to set you off, you trembled and sobbed into the bed. Taehyung grunted in his efforts, feeling your walls clamp down tight around him.

Suddenly, you reached down to slap his hand away from your clit. He frowned, ready to chastise you but the words caught in his throat as he felt the gush of your cum around his cock.

"Shit, baby," he tossed his head back and moaned, "Messy baby, squirting for me...what a good girl!"

His grip suddenly tightened around your hips and you gasped as the sting of his knot stretching your walls. Immediately, you felt the gush of his hot cum against your walls. He pulsed in time to each spurt and he groaned in pleasure as his thighs trembled through the high.

It didn't take long for his knot to go down. When he pulled out, you gasped as his cum dribbled from your still gaping hole. He groaned, catching some on his thumb to smear along your folds.

"God...you're incredible," he whispered, smiling when you curled up on your side.

Turning around, he took a moment to shut the stream off before turning his attention back to you.

Peppering your face with kisses, he let you cling to him to let the high from being knotted by your Alpha wear off.

He always told you it was his favorite part — when you became clingy and needy for his comfort after sex. You were so sweet and soft, it made him proud as an Alpha.

He closed his eyes and rested his head atop yours as you relaxed into his embrace and fell asleep.

“Hey babe!” Taehyung called, wondering where you were at.

You heard his footsteps approaching and turned to look at him from where you were loading the sheets into the washing machine. He was holding his phone as he walked up to you, casually leaning against the wall to watch you for a second.

“What?” you asked, shutting the washing machine to start the cycle.

“Jungkook invited us to a party,” he said, handing you the phone.

From: Jungkook [7:10PM] hey i know its short notice but theres a party tonight i was wondering if u guys wanna go with me?

You hummed, handing Taehyung’s phone back before shrugging, “I don’t mind. We haven’t been to one in ages.”

“Really?” Taehyung grinned, “I’ll let him know!”

“What time?” you asked, following closely behind him as you both went into the bedroom.

“He says 10,” Taehyung answered.

“We’ve got a bit of time then,” you sighed, laying back on the bed.

“That we do…” Taehyung crawled onto the bed and over your body until his lips reached yours, “And I can think of a way to kill an hour.”

“Oh?” you raised a brow, already feeling your body heating up at the dark look in his eyes, “How’s that?”

“Wanna eat your pussy so every Alpha at that party will be able to smell how sweet your cum is,” he growled, making your breath hitch and eyes flutter.

“Please,” you whined, placing your hand on his shoulder to urge him down.

“Ah, my good little Omega,” he grinned as you shivered under the praise.

He flipped your skirt up and groaned at the sight of your cute powder blue cotton panties.

Instead of taking them off, he simply moved them to the side. Groaning at the sight of your wet folds, he felt his mouth begin to water at even the thought of your taste.

Not wasting any time, he leaned forward to slide his tongue between your folds. His eyes rolled back and he wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep your spread open for him. You cried out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he began to eat you like a starving man.

He didn't care that your juices were smearing all over his face. His tongue found its way into your entrance, only slightly fulfilling your need to be filled.

Your back arched and he groaned, pulling back and reaching down to spread your folds. Looking down, you saw his pupils were blown wide and his lips were shining red with your juices and swollen. Using thumb to pull the hood of your clit back, he immediately captured the exposed bud in his mouth.

You pulled on his hair, making his cock twitch in his pants and he began to slowly roll his hips against the bed.

Your breathing stuttered and you found yourself grinding down on his mouth. He groaned, lashing your clit with his tongue to make you tremble. The louder your moans became, the faster he ground down into the bed. His cock hurt, trapped in the suffocating material of his jeans but he was more concerned with making you cum.

Your juices were sweet on his tongue and your clit was pulsing in his mouth, indicating you were growing closer and closer with every second his mouth was on you. Looking down only again, you shuddered at how determined he looked — he was desperate to taste your cum on his tongue.

Finally, your whole body froze.

Taehyung whimpered into your cunt, his own his taking over him as he came in his jeans. His felt his cum, hot on his own skin as he continued to hump the bed until he couldn't take it anymore.

His tongue never let up on licking and sucking on your clit as you came. You trembled and gushed sweet cum that he eagerly caught with his tongue and swallowed down with a moan.

He pulled away he felt your hand go lax in his hair. He sat on his heels looking at you as he licked his lips and collected every drop of you he could from his face to taste.

You squeezed your thighs shut, still throbbing in the aftermath of your orgasm. Taehyung watched you with a proud smirk.

"Now I have to change my panties..." you panted, finally relaxing completely against the bed.

"No you don't," your boyfriend grinned, making you roll your eyes.

You were still feeling the excitement from having Taehyung eating you out by the time you stepped foot into the party.

“Hey, you guys!” Jungkook grinned, bounding over to you happily. He had a red cup in his hand and it was clear he had already been drinking before you arrived. Without wasting a second he shoved the cup into your hand and urged you to drink.

Sharing a look with Taehyung, you shrugged and took a few big gulps before handing it to Taehyung who downed the rest of it. Jungkook laughed happily and urged both of you to follow him to the kitchen.

“This is my friend’s house,” he explained as he grabbed a bottle of vodka and filled the cup back up, “If you want, we can just hang out in one of the rooms.”

“Sure, I don’t know anyone here anyway,” Taehyung took your hand and you both hurried to follow after Jungkook.

The younger held the mostly full bottle of vodka in one hand and the half-filled red cup in the other as he ran up the stairs two at a time. He smiled triumphantly as he waited at the top for you two to catch up. Finally, he picked a room that he had to unlock with a key, ushering you both inside before he turned around and locked it once again.

You looked around, seeing it was a TV room. It had a big screen on the wall and a big, comfy L-couch situated in the middle of the room with several throw pillows and blankets to use.

“Have a seat, my friends,” Jungkook motioned to the couch as he placed to bottle and cup on the table. He flopped back and put his feet up, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on.

You reached forward as you took a seat, grabbing the red cup to take a few sips. Taehyung took a seat beside you, throwing his arm over your shoulder to hold you close. Jungkook was Netflix surfing for a few minutes before settling on Archer.

The three of you sat in relative silence as you shared the cup of vodka, occasionally filling it back up until you were pleasantly buzzed.

You laughed at a scene on Archer, unaware of the gaze burning holes through you. Beneath your ear, Taehyung’s heart sped up as he watched Jungkook’s tongue slide over his bottom lip before he tucked it between his teeth.

Alcohol always made you feel sleepy, so you snuggled up against Taehyung with a small smile on your lips. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your head.

“Hey Kook,” he said, making the younger break his gaze from you, “Hand me a blanket.”

“Oh, sure,” he mumbled, turning around to grab the one thrown over the back of the couch behind him.

When he reached out to hand it to Taehyung, he paused, “Oh, just lay it over her for me,” Taehyung smiled.

Jungkook swallowed thickly and moved forward, placing the blanket over your curled up form. He smoothed it down and Taehyung noted how his hands lingered for just a second too long before he returned to his seat. If Taehyung was any closer, he would have heard the younger Alpha’s heart pounding erratically.

“Hey Tae…?” he said suddenly, bringing Taehyung out of his thoughts. He hummed, turning his gaze to Jungkook, “I’ve been curious,” his words were slurred from the alcohol and he paused to take another sip, “How is it that you can be so cool with just...sharing her with the world? I mean...she’s your Omega…”

Taehyung shrugged, glancing down at you, “She’s not my property and as long as she’s not cheating...she’s free to do anything she wants as long as it’s in a safe environment.”

Jungkook lets out a soft hum, his head lolling drunkenly, “If she was mine, I’d never let anyone see that side of her. Omega’s too precious to let just any asshole jerk off to…”

Taehyung smiled softly, stroking your hair as you slept away on his chest.

It was nearing 1:30 in the morning before Taehyung decided he wanted to go home. He and Jungkook had watched a Pirates of the Carribean movie to pass the time and sobered up in the meantime.You had also managed to sleep your drunkenness off, though you hadn’t drunk as much as they had.

Stumbling into the house, Taehyung was surprised to find himself pinned to the wall with your lips on his. He groaned, tangling his hand in your hair as you slipped your hand down the front of his jeans to grip his cock. He growled, feeling himself quickly harden as the scent of your arousal pooling in your panties reached his nose.

He eagerly reciprocated your excitement, hiking up your skirt to tear your panties down your legs. You shivered as his nails scraped along your skin, a little prick of pain in the pleasure. His fingers found your folds, wet and ready for him.

“What’s got you excited, little slut?” he growled, plunging two long fingers into your painfully empty cunt. 

Your breathing stuttered and you clutched the front of his shirt as he easily found your sweet spot, abusing it until you were squirming against him and your slick was dripping down his wrist. He chuckled, leaning down to press his lips against your neck. 

“Please,” you breathed, reaching down to undo the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking needy first,” he snapped, clenching his jaw as you pulled his cock free, wrapping your little fist around him and squeezing. 

“I-I…” you whimpered, pumping him slowly, “I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?” he scoffed, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt and bringing them up to slide into your mouth. You whimpered at your own taste and felt his cock throb in your hand, “I think you do.”

“I-I don’t,” you whispered, eyes falling to the fat head of his cock as it peeked through your fist.

“You know what I think?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips, “I think little Jungkookie got your little pussy wet.”

You swallowed thickly, giving his length a subtle squeeze, “I…”

“I’m right, huh?” he chuckled, taking your hand from his cock.

You gasped as he suddenly lifted you from the back of your thighs, pinning you against the wall. Your cunt, opened from Taehyung’s fingers, was positioned over his tip. He could see the way your gaze darkened in desire at having him so close.

“Tell me,” he commanded, prodding your hole. You squirmed, whimpering impatiently, “Tell me you got wet because of Jungkook.”

“Alpha, please,” you whined.

“Don’t try that with me,” he snapped, making you frown, “Tell me and I’ll fuck you.”

“I…” you licked your lips, looking down at the cock you were so desperate for, “I-I got wet because of Jungkook.”

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled darkly before his hips surged forwards and filled you to the hilt.

You both groaned in unison at the feeling. You were immediately grinding down on him, needing him to move. He clenched his teeth as he set a hasty pace, the both of you knowing it was going to just be a quickie. Still, you were dripping down his length and soaking the cotton of his boxers. 

“F-Fuck!” you cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. He panted against your shoulder with the exertion of his pace. 

“You gonna cum already?” he scoffed, tone condescending, “Can’t believe little Jungkookie got you this riled up without even doing anything. Little whore, getting wet over other Alphas…”

His words had you coming undone, twitching in his grasp as you gushed around his cock. He hissed at how tightly you squeezed around him, halting his movement until the rhythmic clenching of your walls had him cumming. You whined in disappointment when you realized he hadn’t knotted, making him chuckle.

“My sweet Omega,” he cooed, letting your legs down while supporting your weight until you could properly walk, “Let’s get washed up and in bed.”

Watching you sleep, Taehyung thought about the look in your eyes when he talked about Jungkook. Biting back a smirk, he rolled over and wrapped himself around you.

When he woke up in the morning, he called up Jungkook before you even woke up. Before he left, he let you know through your sleep hazed mind that he was going to hang out with the other Alpha.

Taehyung hopped in his car and followed the GPS to the address Jungkook had sent him. It was a small apartment complex that the younger lived in and easy enough to get in and find Jungkook’s place.

“Hey!” he greeted as Jungkook let him in.

It was a modest, lightly decorated apartment. There was a blanket piled on the couch indicating that was probably where he had been sitting before he arrived.

“Hey, what brings you over so early?” Jungkook asked, hanging Taehyung’s coat on the wall hook.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” the words had Jungkook pausing and turning to look at his friend.

“Oh? What’s up?” Jungkook shifted on his feet as he watched Taehyung lean back casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“It’s about ______,” those words had Jungkook freezing.

“Wh-What about her?” he asked, fidgeting with the fabric of his couch as he leaned against the back of it in hopes of matching Taehyung’s casualness.

“I know you like her,” Taehyung said, “Why wouldn’t you, though? She is just perfect isn’t she?” he took sick amusement in watching his friend scramble for a way to defend himself, “You’ve seen her on her knees sucking my dick...you’ve seen her face when I make her cum...the way she begs for cum and a knot.”

He grinned, stepping up to Jungkook’s trembling frame. He knew the boy was hard in his sweats simply remembering all the things Taehyung talked about.

His eyes fluttered and he licked his lips, “Y-Yeah she...she’s great…”

Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head before playfully shoving his friend’s shoulder. Jungkook’s doe eyes were wide in confusion, “You’re so cute, Kook.”

“Wh-What’re you talking about?” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, still nervous from Taehyung’s protective demeanor.

“I was just teasing you,” Taehyung shrugged, “I actually came over here to ask if you wanted to have a threesome.”

Jungkook shoulders relaxed and his face went blank. He stared at your boyfriend for several seconds, blinking repeatedly as he processed the words.

“Huh?” was all he could conjure up.

Taehyung chuckled, “I know she thinks you’re hot too so I figured why not?”

“Dude…” Jungkook heaved a big sigh, hanging his head, “I thought you were going to fucking kill me!”

“Nah,” Taehyung shook his head, “I get it if you think she’s hot or you wanna bang her. I’m not mad about it.”

“She um...she wants to have a threesome as well?” Jungkook asked, almost nervously.

“I haven’t asked her but…” he chuckled, licking his lips, “I brought you up to her last night and...she seemed interested in fucking you.”

“Whoa…” Jungkook smiled, “If she’s down and you’re cool with it then...hell yeah!”

“Perfect,” Taehyung patted his friend on the shoulder, “I’m going to raid your kitchen because I haven’t eaten anything yet today.”

“Where were you all day?” you asked when he stepped through the door.

“I told you I was with Jungkook,” your boyfriend replied as he slipped his shoes off.

“Yeah I know but like...why?” you turned around when he entered the kitchen, where you were making dinner.

“Wanted to proposition him,” Taehyung shrugged, opening the refrigerator to pull out a can of Coke.

“Oh? How’d that go?” you stirred the sauce in the pan while Taehyung took a seat behind you at the table.

“He agreed,” Taehyung smirked into his soda can when you turned around with a brow raised.

“Care to share with the class?” you mumbled, placing the lid on the pan before taking a seat beside him.

“Well,” he leaned forward, his face inches from yours with that smirk still on his lips, “I asked how he would feel about having a threesome with us.”

“Taehyung!” you gasped, smacking his shoulder before dissolving into laughter, “You did not!”

“I did!” Taehyung began laughing with you, “I scared him as well...made him think I was pissed he wanted to bang you. He was shaking.”

“Tae!” you cried, “You’re so mean!”

“I know but I couldn’t resist!” he defended himself, taking your hand before you could smack his shoulder again. You sighed, a smile still on your lips as he pressed a kiss to your palm, “He agreed so...all I need to know is if you’re on board or not.”

“Of course I agree,” you rolled your eyes.

Before either of you could say anything else, the timer on your stove went off and you both moved to get dinner on the table.

Taehyung moves fast, and he wasted no time in setting everything up.

You were getting ready to stream in just a few hours with Taehyung when the doorbell rang. Since you were closer to the door, you answered it. The surprise you felt when you were met with the bright eyes of Jeon Jungkook had you stunned.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you asked, waving him in.

“Tae invited me,” he answered easily, hanging up his coat and kicking his shoes off.

“Why?” you frowned when you received only a shrug in response.

“Ah good, you’re here!” Taehyung grinned, walking out of the hallway shirtless.

Jungkook took a moment to admire the smooth expanse of tan skin before questioning the elder on what was going on.

“We’re going to have our threesome,” you gaped at his words speechless before Jungkook spoke up.

“Aren’t you streaming tonight?” he asked, which Taehyung nodded at, “So...how are we doing it tonight?”

“We’re doing it live!” Jungkook choked on his spit at the words, eyes darting to you quickly.

Your lips were pursed in a pout before you folded your arms over your chest and glared at your boyfriend, “When did we decide this?”

“Hey, if I’m gonna let him fuck my Omega…” he shot a quick look towards Jungkook, who held his hands up in defense, “I’m at least going to make some money off it,” he watched your face carefully and waited for a response but when he didn’t get one, he took your hand in his, “If you don’t want too—”

“No, I’m good with it,” you looked towards Jungkook, “Are you? It’ll be your first time on camera, right?”

“I um...I actually really like the idea…” he confessed, cheeks turning pink.

“Great, it’s settled then!” Taehyung grinned, “Jungkook you can use our bathroom to freshen up while we get the setup running.”

Truthfully, he didn’t really need your help. You sat on the bed watching as he set the camera up and connected it to the laptop.

You were practically vibrating in excitement by the time you saw yourself on the screen.

"You're starting now? Without him?" you asked softly just as the red light turned on to indicate you were now live.

The number of viewers quickly jumped and excited comments flooded in about how they had missed you and where Taehyung was.

"Yeah, why not?" Taehyung chuckled, stepping out from behind the camera, "It can be a nice surprise."

You giggled as he dropped on his knees in front of the bed. The back of his head and shoulders were in view as he began to pepper kisses along the skin of your calves and thighs.

"You look so cute in my clothes," he chuckled, referring to the hoodie you were wearing.

"They smell like you," you mumbled, making him smile against your thigh.

He gave you a soft bite before reaching up to find the hem of your shorts that were obscured by the length of his hoodie.

Tossing them away, he cupped your core through your panties. You sighed, biting you bottom lip and leaning back to let him stroke your slit through the fabric. It was a bit rough on your clit but the texture added to the pleasure.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Jungkook stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist looking a little sheepish.

"I uh...didn't have spare...what're you doing?" he blinked owlishly as he stepped forward to see past the camera set up to find Taehyung on his knees.

"Kook..." Taehyung smiled, waving him over, "We started without you, sorry."

"I-It was his idea..." you mumbled, stuttering as Taehyung lightly slapped your folds through your panties before standing up.

"Everyone, we have an even sweeter treat tonight," Taehyung grinned, tugging Jungkook into the frame and pushing him down to sit beside you, "This is Kook, he's an Alpha and he's going to be fucking my Omega."

You looked to Jungkook, who froze where he sat. His eyes were wide and he looked almost scared but you could see the way he was getting hard beneath the towel.

"I-I am?" he stuttered out, making Taehyung chuckle.

"Of course, what did you think we were doing?" you wanted to chastise your boyfriend for teasing the younger but stayed quiet.

It seemed that Jungkook easily took the offer as he turned to look at you. He cupped your jaw and drew you in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, he was tasting you for the first time. He wanted to experience a gentle kiss with you and you eagerly allowed him that.

Taehyung huffed out a small laugh as he backed away from the two of you. He took his seat in the comfortable chair near the bed, keeping his eyes on the two of you.

Beneath the tight fabric of his dark wash jeans, Taehyung's cock was painfully hard. Watching how excited Jungkook was for his Omega excited him, filled him with pride. He knew how desirable and perfect his Omega was and it made him feel so lucky to have you as his.

Jungkook's behavior changed quickly and you suddenly found yourself pinned beneath his weight. His fingers slid beneath the heavy fabric of your hoodie up. He paused just before your breasts came into view, dipping his head down to press his lips against your skin. Goosebumps rose following the path of his feather-light kisses.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed your hoodie off, letting out a soft curse as your breasts came into view. He wasted no time tossing the hoodie towards Taehyung. The elder chuckled as the fabric met his face before he chucked it on the ground and settled his gaze back on you.

Jungkook's lips found your right nipple, making you keen. He groaned against your breast as you tangled your hand into his hair and tugged. His towel came undone and fell, exposing his dripping cock. Taehyung's own heart stuttered in his chest at the sight and he had the urge to wrap his fist around the younger and have him whimpering beneath his control.

But alas, it wasn't his turn.

"Please, Kook," you whined, making Jungkook groan. He wished he could hear you calling him 'Alpha' — but it was an impossible desire.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, panting against your breast before giving that fragile skin a soft nip.

"Please touch me," you begged, arching your hips to meet his throbbing cock.

He groaned, whispers of profanity escaping his lips as he eagerly stripped you down completely bare. Spreading your legs, he felt his cock drool at the sight of your slick coated folds.

His thumb met your slit, collecting your arousal on the digit to bring to his lips. He whimpered at the taste, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Please, make me cum," you asked, biting your lip as you reached down and spread yourself open.

Jungkook's mouth fell open at the sight of your dripping hole and hardened clit that was clearly aching for his touch.

"I don't think so, baby," he chuckled, gripping beneath your knees to pin your thighs open. Your folds spread obscenely and he slid the head of his cock against you. Your thighs trembled as he drug the thick vein on the underside over your clit, "You're going to cum on my cock, got it?"

"Y-Yes," you whispered, meeting his gaze as he reached down to grip his own cock.

Neither of you breathed as he sunk into your clenching cunt.

"Shit..." Jungkook breathed, eyes rolling at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

You were hot and tight around him, felt better than he could have dreamed. From the sidelines, Taehyung squeezed his own cock through his jeans. He was painfully hard and fuck if seeing Jungkook's fat cock spreading you open didn't make him throb. His boxers were no doubt soaked from his own arousal.

Jungkook immediately set a pace that had you crying out. Your breasts bounced in time to his thrusts and he couldn't help but cup on in his hand. As he pinched your nipple, he felt you clench around him. You were soaking his cock, in your slick — it smells so sweet that he was beginning to regret not taking the time to eat you out.

Maybe Taehyung would let him have a taste later.

At the thought of your boyfriend, he looked over at the elder. His hand was stroking himself over his jeans and his eyes were lidded. Instead of watching him, his eyes were on you. It irked Jungkook. He wanted Taehyung to look at him.

"A-Ah, please—" you choked out, clawing the flawless skin of his back, leaving angry red marks.

Jungkook groaned, leading down and pressing his lips against yours. You whimpered into his mouth, clutching onto him. Peering down to where his cock was stuffing you full, his pace stuttered at the juices you were drooling around him.

"My cock's big huh?" Jungkook growled in your ear.

You nodded, "F-Feels so good."

"Yeah?" the Alpha chuckled, casting another glance towards Taehyung where he was sat casually in the chair still. It irritated him that the elder looked completely unbothered by the sight of another Alpha balls deep in his Omega. He wanted to rile him up, see him for the Alpha he really was — get his attention, "Bigger than Tae's? Hm?"

You gasped in shock but still couldn't help but clench around his cock in response, making him laugh.

From the chair, Taehyung's eyes narrowed into a glare. His jaw clenched and he finally moved, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. You were whining and squirming in pleasure beneath the other Alpha and for the first time he felt the burn of possessiveness. He snapped when he heard Jungkook mutter, "Bet I fuck you better than him, huh?"

You met Jungkook's gaze, worried about if he knew what he was saying but you saw the excited glint in his eye and the playful smirk on his lips. Immediately, you understood the game he was playing — wanted to fire the most dominant Alpha up and make him angry.

It was also a game you enjoyed playing.

Your heart stuttered when Taehyung stormed up to the side of the bed. Jungkook continued to fuck you until Taehyung grabbed a fistful of his hair. The sting made him hiss and he stood buried to the hilt inside you.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Taehyung growled, using a voice even you rarely heard, "Don't forget who's Omega it is you're fucking."

"And it's also your Omega who's creaming on my cock," Jungkook shot back.

Taehyung let out an angry growl that had you clenching around Jungkook again. The younger groaned at the feeling, lashes fluttering.

Your boyfriend suddenly yanked the other back so his cock popped out of your cunt. You could feel yourself gaping around nothing as your pussy fluttered.

Jungkook's back was pressed to Taehyung's front. You clenched your thighs together at the sight of the younger showing submissiveness to your boyfriend by baring his neck. Taehyung took the invitation and opened his mouth, letting his teeth find purchase on the fragile skin. Jungkook winced a bit but it didn't break skin — just a warning.

Then he reached down and took Jungkook's leaking cock into his hand. The younger shuddered and groaned, mouth dropping open as he watched Taehyung give his length a couple quick strokes.

"You better remember that I can always fuck you like an Omega and make you cum on my cock, Kook," Taehyung hissed, squeezing Jungkook's cock until he whined, "Don't get a big head because you've got my Omega's cunt stuffed, hm?"

Jungkook's eyes fluttered and he gave a noncommittal nod. He took it anyway and backed off once again, sparing you a fleeting glance before he took his seat again.

You relaxed into the sheets again when Jungkook quickly slipped his cock back into you. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist as he resumed the same pace he'd kept earlier. It was easy to wind you back up given the aggressive display of dominance you'd seen from your boyfriend. Jungkook seemed in a daze as he buried his face into your neck and kissed the skin there.

"Fuck," he groaned, feeling his knot begin to swell.

"M-Make me cum, Kook..." you begged, arching your hips up.

He grunted, resting all his weight on one arm as he reached down to find your clit. You keened, eyes rolling back.

"C-Cum, baby," he urged, voice strained as he struggled to hold his own high back, "Be a good Omega and cum for me."

When you fell over the edge, it was a low cry that set Jungkook off. He pulled out of you, missing the distressed whimper from you, and gripped his cock as he spilled over your stomach.

You watched the mess pool and slide down your side to the sheets. Jungkook relaxed and looked down at you, cock giving a valiant kick at the sight of you marked with his cum.

After a moment, Taehyung stood up and approached the two of you.

"You know..." your boyfriend sighed, sounding almost bored, "For someone who talked such a big game about how well you can use that cock of yours..."

He sat down beside you and pulled you so you were sitting up and leaning against him. Jungkook watched with lidded eyes as Taehyung's hand found its way to your cunt. You gasped and eagerly spread your legs for him.

"You barely even got her off," Taehyung tsked, making a show of parting your folds for Jungkook so see your still leaking hole.

"I-what?" Jungkook breathed, still a little breathless from his own orgasm. He was so sure he felt you cumming around him.

"Ruined her orgasm," Taehyung mumbled, reaching up to collect some of Jungkook's cum. Jungkook's brain nearly short circuited as he began circling your clit using his cum, "Pretty mean, huh baby girl?"

You whimpered, nodding your head as you clung to your boyfriend's arm. Jungkook felt his face burn in humiliation as you acknowledged his mistake.

"You were such a good girl," Taehyung cooed, meeting Jungkook's shameful gaze, "Good girls don't get punished but that's what he did, huh? It's okay, your Alpha will make you cum since Kook clearly can't."

You didn't offer a reply, too lost in watching Taehyung smear Jungkook's cum on your clit. Jungkook's face was on fire and he quickly broke Taehyung's gaze, remembering all the people watching who saw what he'd done. The way he talked such a big game only to not even be able to make you cum properly.

It was punishment enough to watch the way you came so quickly and easily for your boyfriend. Your thighs shuddered and hugged his arm to sob out his name in the throes of pleasure.

He wished he had been able to feel it properly. Knowing he'd lost his one and only chance to make you cum on his cock — and knowing Taehyung was going to be able to do that any moment he wanted. It was a taunt.

Your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your temple and let you curl up as he bid goodbye to the viewers and turned the stream off.

"I swear, I am absolutely beat," Taehyung sighed, throwing his arm over your shoulder as he took your heavy bag from your hands.

"I don't even know why you came with me today," you mumbled, "You got up for no reason."

"I came to school with you!" Taehyung argued.

You laughed, playfully pinching his side, "You didn't even have class today!"

"Oh well shame on me for being a bad boyfriend and wanting to spend the day with you," he shot back sarcastically, "By the way, I have an idea."

"Oh?" you asked, wrapping your arms around him as a chill ran through you.

"How about Saturday night we watch Jungkookie's stream together," he whispered the words low in your ear and you nearly whimpered.

The idea of having his hand shoved down your panties as you both watched Jungkook get himself off — you eagerly agreed, making Taehyung beam happily.

Before the two of you could make it to your car, you were intercepted by an unfamiliar voice shouting, "Hey wait up!"

You both turned around to see a man, shorter than Taehyung and sporting bubblegum pink hair, running towards you.

"What's up?" Taehyung asked with a brow raised.

"Y-You're V and his girlfriend, right?" He panted, giving you a bright smile, "I'm a big fan!"

You and Taehyung shared a gaze before introducing yourselves properly, inviting the young man to lunch.

[nct-lian]

relationships outside of sm

JENNIE + LIAN: JENLI

so iconic omg like how they do it, i have no idea

they hang out all the time and lian is literally ALWAYS on jennie’s instagram

the two of them once had an instagram story conversation over pigtails

like,, jennie posted a picture of lian’s pigtails for that one bicycle performance on her story and captioned it “pigtail baby” and then lian reposted it on her own story with a picture of jennie’s pigtails, captioning it “pigtail eomma”

speaking of eomma, jennie is genuinely her mother

jennie takes her shopping all the time

and in return, lian buys her food

the interactions these two used to have at award shows were SO CUTE

everyone remembers when jennie pretty much yelled out lian’s name and she just came running over to the members of blackpink after taeyong let her leave :(

i’m crying just thinking about it help

jennie also posted a full on instagram post for lian on her birthday and had such a sweet caption with it

it was something like “my daughter is finally 21 today! i hope she has an amazing day and i can’t wait to see her later tonight to give her a gift :) haneullie, lots of love from jennie eomma”

SPEAKING OF THE GIFT,, jennie bought her a whole ass $9000 necklace from chanel because she knew that lian was looking for more

IM IN TEARS AND SO ARE YOU ADMIT IT RN

jenli kpop bestest duo

dispatch once thought jennie was on a date with a girl but it turned out to just be her walking lian home after going shopping with her so they never posted anything about it

they were embarrassed they got something wrong so i get it

omfg when news came out that lian and jinwoo broke up mama jennie was threatening to punch the shit out of him

KEVIN + LIAN: LIMOON

what i’ve been waiting to write for so long okay here we go

so mf chaotic like there are compilations made of these two that scream “go crazy go stupid”

their time as guest mc’s for inkigayo was probably some of the best kpop content we’d gotten in a long ass time

KEVIN IS CAUTIOUS WHEN LETTING HER MEET HIS MEMBERS

cause she’s such a good friend to him and wtf why would he wanna share

“mine mine mine mine” constant dory vibes 24/7

lian thrives off of calling him by his korean name because she knows it annoys him

he’s constantly teasing her for having bagged milk in toronto so he deserves it

the one time lian and jacob talked to each other they seemed to be getting along too much for kevin’s liking so he really went:

“okay lian isn’t it time for you to go” because he WAS GETTING JEALOUSJCLSJX

their styles are pretty much complete opposites and everytime they take pictures together kevin never forgets to mention how off it all looks

“tf is that why are your clothes so boring”

“okay sNaKe pAnTs” because of that one eric moment on kpop daebak show where he said kevin had pants with snakes on them

ALSO BTW LIANS CLOTHES ARENT FUCKING BORING SHES JUST FANCY LIKE THAT

i’m getting heated let me calm down.

they normally speak in english to each other but since lian seems to be stuttering over her words when she isn’t speaking korean, he mixes in a few korean phrases every now and then to help her out

kevin is arguably the most hype every single time lian performs, like he really thinks there isn’t anything better

LIAN MAKES SURE TO UPDATE HER INSTAGRAM STORY WHENEVER TBZ HAVE A COMEBACK SO NCTZENS GO SUPPORT THEM

LIA + LIAN: LILIA

more lian x the canadian line WOOHOO

lia spent her trainee days really looking up to lian and she’s even mentioned before that she’d love for itzy to get the chance to collab with her for a song

she really has her fingers crossed for that btw

they actually met during an award show when ryujin, chaeryeong and yuna all had to leave because it was past curfew

lian decided to sit next to them and during all the intermissions between performances she, lia and yeji conversed to pass time

they ended up growing a friendship together but lian has a stronger bond with lia

she loves all the girls either way but yk

lia and lian love going to cafes together and taking adorable pictures :(

like whenever lia posts on itzy’s instagram midzeys don’t exactly know whether or not lian would be on it too :0

like lian normally posts all the scenery pictures she gets to keep her instagram pleasing whereas lia posts the pictures the two of them take together

my heart </3

lian treats lia like a whole daughter because it isn’t often she finds girls that are younger than her

*screams in the fact that majority of sm’s female artists are all from 2015 and under*

like when i say lian SPOILS her i’m not joking

she will randomly call lia up like:

“hey i’m gonna get you out of that dungeon, come get some chicken with me”

and then they’ll just hang out together

but only if lian is out of the dungeon herself because wbk she ain’t treated very well </3

EUNWOO + LIAN: WOOLI

their chemistry is fucking insane holy shit

like their acting for past to present was seriously so praised, netizens found it hard to believe it was all just for the show

dating rumours follow these two everywhere,, like everywhere

it’s one of the most popular ships inside ncity when it comes to lian and other idols

i kid you not one tweet said “chanhyeok treated jihye so well in past to present, i’m only wondering how well eunwoo would treat lian 👀”

LIKE STOP PUTTING IDEAS INTO PEOPLES HEADS YOURE KILING ME HERE ISTG

but yeah they do look really good together

and they’re an amazing pair for acting

when eunwoo started working with inyeop for true beauty, he said:

“hyung’s dating my girlfriend” because of the fact that both of them have acted with lian and BOTH of them dated her in the dramas

what a coincidence though

we all cried when we saw chanhyeok and jihye kiss for the first time DONT LIE

EUNWOO FOLLOWS HER ON INSTAGRAM

and they wished each other happy birthday on their instagram stories

there’s actually people who like to think that they dated while filming for past to present andddd they radiate big delulu vibes

like you know liskook shippers? wooli shipped are kinda the same, but not as intense (thank god)

BUT CAN WE BLAME THEM LIKE THEIR CHEMISTRY? THE WAY THEY TALKED TO EACH OTHER? PLEASE

they took a lot of cute pictures together behind the scenes (ノ﹏ヽ)

MOMO + LIAN: LIMO

DANCER DUO DANCER DUO

this ship isn’t actually as popular as we would like it to be, but nonetheless people love limo

a lot of interactions during award shows !!

like for example momo’s fancams always captured her dancing perfectly to lian’s choreo

and lian smiling in momo’s direction

i love them

when lian found out about heechul and momo’s relationship, she asked momo if she was her mom now because of how much of a father figure she considers heechul to be JDFJK

“i mean sure”

they’ve actually done a vlive together before (ᗒᗨᗕ)

it was when lian visited her at the twice dorms and they ended up getting bored so they decided to do a vlive in the living room

THEY PLAYED DARE OR DARE AND LIAN HAD TO DO THE TEARS CHALLENGE (so chan whee) ON MOMOS KARAOKE MACHINE

her throat was dry for the rest of the night

after seeing momo’s hair for the i can’t stop me era, lian actually wanted to cut it like that

but she decided against it because she loves her long hair too much

the two of them met on hit the stage where they competed against each other in a freestyle dance battle

after that they just started casually talking over the phone and became great friends

with the way momo talks about lian, you’d think they’re dating-

“oh, lian- she’s so pretty! i love her a lot!”

and the same goes for lian, she loves talking about momo’s dancing skills

JACKSON + LIAN: JACKLIAN

her dad :/

adopted her with amber liu like a year ago so now she’s just his daughter

supports each other like crazy not even joking

jackson promotes her on instagram and twitter 24/7

THEY HAVE SO MANY INTERACTIONS THANK GOD

lian was once given a ridiculously short dress while attending an award show and jackson gave her his jacket to wear over her legs because she wasn’t provided a blanket :(

(keep in mind, she went there without the members!)

lian added all his music to her playlist :)

once got drunk together and spent like three hours doing karaoke but it’s okay cause it was fun

speaking of getting drunk, jackson’s the cool dad that lets her do whatever she wants

he has his protective moments where he’s like “ma’am where are you going on that short of a dress” but he’s also like “hey wanna go get chicken and soju”

they both appeared on a radio show together as guests and they ruined the whole broadcast because they were too loud

like they kept getting out of their seats to go wave at all the fans outside the window and they were just fighting back and forth about whether or not lian’s extensions look real

according to jackson, they’re “NOT AUTHENTIC ENOUGH- LOVE YOUR HAIR FOR WHAT IT IS, LIANNA HANEUL BAE.” lian’s hair lives matter :/

PLSSS WHEN HYOSEOP AND LIAN STARTED DATING- no

jackson was so proud that his good friend was smooching his other good friend but the protective dad instincts really kicked in

“break her heart and you die no cap”

was surprisingly chill when they broke up though, he was just glad lian didn’t cry

SUNMI + LIAN: SUNLI

SUNMI IS HER MOM OHMYGOD

so many interactions

honestly took lian under wing once she debuted as a soloist

female kpop soloists gotta have each other’s backs in this industry man :(

sunmi calls lian her princess SOBS

lian always hugs sunmi at award shows, like if they’re sitting close together

or if they’re standing next to each other on stage

you bet your ass lian is gripping onto sunmi for dear life

did a photoshoot together for marie claire korea

they’re so hot bro

BUT THEY FIRST MET ON WEEKLY IDOL NOT LONG AFTER LIAN DEBUTED AS A SOLOIST

they were kinda awkward ngl uh

but by the end of it they were besties :DD

and they’ve been besties ever since

lian is the ceo of doing dance covers for sunmi’s songs

cmon lian we’re waiting for tail 👀

sunmi has actually met lian’s grandma </3

like her and lian were hanging out at the dorms while the boys were out on a schedule and her grandma just randomly showed up with homemade food so that was definitely a win

BANG CHAN + LIAN: LICHAN

they’ve been friends for a LOOONGGG time

and chain’s known her since dating back to like, smrookies era when lian was still a red velvet member

like at that time she had no idea he existed, but he was keeping up with her daily :(

chan plays her music on vlives all the time and he always knows the dance moves

like he just dances along in his chair and mumbles the lyrics

we love to see it

a lot of fans ship them together

SURPRISE SURPRSIE AH

only because chan gives off big pining energy

lian only looks at him like “:D” whereas he looks at her like “♡•♡”

kinda sad but

lian promotes him on live so often HVKSVU

“my friend chan is coming back with his group soon, you should check it out! :)”

and the way she just says “my friend chan” LIKE ITS SO OBVIOUSLY A FRIENDZONE BUT HE THINKS ITS ADORABLE

he once got a comment on a vlive to react to lian moments, obviously complying because who wouldn’t

there was this one clip of her saying “my friend chan from stay kids!” and whoever edited the compilation added in squishy noises right after while zooming in on her face

AND CHAN BLUSHED SO HARD NOO

“oh- hahaha, uhh, she’s so cute aw hahahah”

ASHLEY + LIAN: ASHLI

oh god not another lian x mom ship

ASHLEY LOVES LIAN WOAH

like she’s submitted lian’s resume to bm so many times so they could be part of the big tiddie committee together

ashley is constantly, and i mean constantly, reposting all of lian’s posts on her story with captions like “LOOK AT HER GO”

and lian has even discovered all the cool instagram filters because of ashley, and now we get the quality content from her that WE DESERVEEEEE

back when lian’s album came out, all ashley’s story really was was just screenshots of her streaming all the songs and calling them bops

when they first met in person after texting back in forth, ashley spammed her instagram story with pictures of lian that she took without her looking

these two radiate a lot of “YES GIRL WORKKK ITTT TURN THIS WAY OKAYYY POSE POSE POSE” energy

lian’s been featured in one of ashley’s youtube videos and it was when they met for the first time :)

they exchange a lot of gifts through the mail

like lian once found a mug when shopping with doyoung and she thought that it would fit ashley’s taste so she sent it to her apartment

and ever since then they just send random little gifts to each other’s houses

it’s so cute

MATCHING BUCKET HATS THEY HAVE MATCHING BUCKET HATS !!!!!!

ashley talks about lian all the time

she always says that for someone so young, she’s accomplished a lot and she’s really proud of her

they wanna do tiktoks with each other but they never have the time </3

lian spam comments on ashley’s instagram like “WOAH” “OKAYYYY” “YESYESYES”

[emilyplaysotome]

Queen’s Choice: Part 4

This is the fourth chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. 

Catch up:

 part 1 part 2 part 3

I don’t feel nervous until I’m in the elevator, on my way up to see him. 

You’d think I’d be used to seeing Victor by now, and even more used to him giving me grief about my presentations but I’m never prepared enough when it comes to him. 

I realize it’s because I owe him in more ways than I feel comfortable admitting. 

I owe him for helping my company and for saving me. 

Again and again and again. 

I know that they all care about me, but Victor has this uncanny ability to appear and whisk me out of harm’s way. I shudder when I think about what might have come to pass had it not been for him. 

Goldman is the one who breaks me away from my thoughts and I make small talk with him as he leads me to Victor’s office. I’m dressed slightly different, with a tight pencil skirt that’s flirting with being a bit too skimpy for me and a conservative blouse so it looks like a mistake. 

I’m not wearing underwear and I can feel my heart racing as I interact with a man outside of my target, worried that he can tell and I’ve accidentally exposed myself.

That doesn’t seem to be the case though, thanks to my blazer that covers my chest and I take a deep breath as I enter Victor’s office, the door shutting behind me. 

He looks even more handsome than I remember and I remind myself that my intention for today is to tease, not necessarily seduce - though I’m open to the latter. His eyes are glued to his computer screen, and he doesn’t so much as glance up in my direction as I take off my blazer and sit in front of him. 

The fabric of my blouse rubbing against me combined with the chill of the offices has made my nipples erect, and I resist the urge to cover up, instead arching my back to give the illusion of a fuller bosom despite barely filling out an A cup. 

When he does finally look at me I see a flash of irritation in his face before he says, “Your presentation was filled with errors.”

“What!? Really?”

I’m genuinely shocked because I spent so much time checking and rechecking my work and without thinking I run beside him, behind the desk and bend over to see the computer screen. As a result I can feel my skirt riding up and I wonder if I’m as exposed as I think I am. 

Victor doesn’t seem to notice this though, exasperated he walks me through what I need to do better and I end up forgetting about teasing him and take notes diligently. It’s because of this that when he finally asks, “Are you trying something funny with me?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about at first. 

“What?”

“You really are a dummy, you know that?”

With that he pulls at the back of my pencil skirt, his fingers accidentally brushing against the top of my thighs. I blush uncontrollably and nervously scuttle back to my chair. 

“I didn’t want panty lines,” I whisper so softly it’s barely audible but he hears me and sighs again. 

“I’m driving you home and you’re changing so no one else sees you like this.”

“Is it that bad? You don’t...like it?”

It’s then that he pauses and with an eyebrow raised asks, “Is this for me?”

“Maybe.”

He grins now and I’m worried about what will come next. 

“Have you dumped those other 3 and come here to confess?”

“What other -“

“Let’s not act like I don’t know and you don’t know. Call me when you’re done with them and then I’ll fuck you silly right on my desk if you want.” 

He goes back to work and I’m stunned by his the straightforwardness of his response. 

“I...”

“Was there something else?”

He’s smirking when he looks at me and I can’t help but feel like he’s enjoying playing with me like this. 

“I want to negotiate.”

I can tell that this intrigues him. He puts down his pen and sits back in his chair, crossing his legs and waiting for more information. 

“I agree to stop seeing one of them and we see what we are like together.”

He laughs and my face instantly feels hot. 

“Why is that funny? Aren’t you curious too?” I say a little too loud and with an indignant expression I can’t help but have. 

“Dummy.”

He leans forward in his chair, putting his weight on his elbows as his closes the distance despite his grand mahogany desk between us. 

“I’m not curious because I already know.”

My face burns but I don’t back down. 

“Well I don’t. Offer stands.”

He considers this and with a smirk says,

“Three.”

“That’s basically confessing! I’m not ready!”

“I thought we were negotiating? I have the upper hand you know....”

“Two! And that’s my final offer.”

“I’ll consider it. But for now, let me take you home.”

—

I feel rejected as I sit in the passenger seat and far more disappointed than I expected to feel. 

None of them have denied me, and I can’t stop fantasizing about what it would have felt like to have him capitalize while I was next to him, bending over. I think about how his fingers could have entered me and how exhilarating it would have been to fuck on that grandiose desk of his. 

But it looks like I won’t find out. 

The car pulls up in front of my building and he says, “I’ll be in touch. Cover up in the meantime if this was really for me...”

“Huh?”

He sighs but he doesn’t look exasperated. He looks gentle and tender and loving and he says, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you as you are.”

He drives off before I can reply. 

—

My head is filled with fantasies of Victor beyond the ones in his office after he denies me. I check my phone to see if he has agreed to my terms but I don’t see anything from him. 

I feel frustrated but I also don’t know who I would pick. 

I really don’t want to choose. 

In the days that follow the intensity of the fantasies increase and I find myself alone in bed touching myself to the thoughts of being with him. I get messages from the others but I’ve got tunnel vision. 

I’m a woman obsessed and whose curiosity needs to be satiated. 

I eventually buckle and write him, asking if my terms have been agreed to, all the while not knowing who I’d pick. 

I get no answer. 

—

I’m thinking about what my next move is a week after our encounter in his office. I’m home, wearing a comfy pj set, hair still wet and fresh out of the shower when there’s a knock at my door. I’m honestly wondering if Lucien has returned next door but it’s Victor who I see through the peep hole. 

He’s holding something and looks impatient and I eagerly open the door, forgetting that I’m not exactly in sexy attire. 

“I’ve brought a contract,” he says, breezing by me and heading to kitchen to fix himself a drink before walking over to my couch. He’s clearly come from work, but he’s loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, indicating that he’s done for the day.

I sit beside him and confused mumble, “a contract?”

There’s a snort and he says, “Our negotiation? Or have you already forgotten?”

“No!” I exclaim, but my heart sinks knowing what’s most likely in here.

When I look over the papers, I’m surprised to discover that there’s no mention of parting ways with anyone. Instead the demands are...far more accommodating to my desires. 

The contract outlines in details how we shall entire an exploratory phase with each other, and will not finish until both parties are satisfied. This period has no deadline other that it will last until both parties are satisfied.

There is one catch. 

With each week that goes by, I have to say goodbye to one suitor. Two weeks, two men total. Three weeks...well, the decision will be made by then even should we not have a label on our relationship. 

Victor smiles as I realize the contract is outlined in a way should I have unlimited men, one would be sacrificed per week. 

He hands me an expensive looking fountain pen and asks, “Do we have a deal?”

I nod, taking the pen from him and signing my name next to where he’s already signed. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” he says and extends his hand for me to shake it. When I take it, he grabs me and pulls me into him, his other hand wrapping around the back of my head as he kisses me. 

It’s brief because of how we are situated on my couch, and he pulls me onto him so I’m straddling him as he unbuttons my top, before sucking on my breast. His tongue flicks at me while his hand gently pinches the other and I moan helplessly. 

“Is this what you wanted when you appeared in my office in that sheer blouse?” He teases, but I can’t formulate a reply. 

“Well?” He pushes again, not accepting my half moan half whimper as a response. 

“Yes but more.”

“What more? Describe it.”

It’s embarrassing to tell him everything I fantasized but I do and as I do I can feel him getting harder and harder underneath me. I can tell he loves hearing about the nights spent with nothing but myself and thoughts of him and he carries me to my bed, stripping me of my bottoms, and demands I show him what I did those nights. 

I’ve never touched myself in front of anyone before and it’s both nerve-racking and exhilarating. As I start to do it, he strips down in front of me and does the same. 

It’s the first time I’m seeing him like this, not just naked, but animalistic in the way he watches me. I can tell by the way he’s stroking himself that things are escalating for both of us. I don’t want to come because he still hasn’t really touched me, but he demands that I show him exactly what I did and I feel compelled to obey.

I cry out as a wave of pleasure rushes over me and moments later he’s kneeling between my legs on the bed, hovering over me as he finishes on my stomach.

We’re both panting as I hand him a tissue to wipe himself and I’m about to get dressed when he grabs my arm and stops me.

“We’re not done,” he says with a smile.

For a moment I’m surprised, but then excited at the thought that our first night together is only beginning.

Part 5

I hope you liked the fourth chapter of my steamy fic. As I’ve said before this is very out of my comfort zone but I tried to kick this up a notch! If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)

As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, or buying me a coffee!

Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged and I’ll take you off.

tagging @ho-lee-snow-balls 

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@mamafishfound 

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@clilee​ 

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@galaxystarrr​

[dirty-urie]

Jam Sesh

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Smut Oneshot

NC-17

3.3k Words

Warnings in order of appearance: real person fic, alcohol, slight insecurity, fingering, some dirty talk, penetrative sex

Author's Notes:

This is... not my best work. I don't really like anything about it, but instead of wasting any more of my time on it, I'm just publishing it and hoping that my dislike for it is just me being self-critical and not because it's a really bad fic. Normally I'm all for hyping yourself up, but meh, I'm just not feeling this one, and that's okay because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want. Hope you like it though lmao

He answers the studio door and pulls you in for a hug, which is a little awkward with the guitar on your back, but you make it work. "Y/N!" He exclaims happily.

You're a little surprised that he answered the door and didn't accidentally get caught up in his work. It's not like Brendon would purposefully stand you up; he's just a little bit of a mess sometimes. But he looks happy to see you, and that's all that matters. He motions you inside, and you follow him, collapsing on the couch next to his desk.

"Beer me, Brendon!" You request, and he does, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge in the corner of the studio and handing you the tall silver can. You wrinkle your nose. "How successful does the band have to get for you to stop buying Coors light?"

"Hey! I like Coors light," he defends, grabbing yours and replacing it with a pretentious-looking IPA. "There you go, a fancy beer because you're my guest."

"Thank you. I'm sure it'll still taste like stale piss, but now it'll taste like fancy stale piss." You joke, taking your guitar out of its case.

He laughs and takes a sip of the beer he stole from you. "Oh shit, is that new?" He gestures to your guitar. "I haven't seen it before."

"New to me. I found it at a thrift shop for 20 bucks, but it barely looks used and look, it's a fender," you say, handing him the guitar.

"Woah, Y/N, this is a find," he says, playing a few chords.

You take your guitar back and start messing around on it yourself. Brendon makes his way over to the drums and starts playing along with you. You try not to ogle or anything, but he looks fucking good giving his all to the instrument. Almost makes you wonder how he'd be in bed... intense, totally in-control. Shit, you need to stop letting your mind wander; you're just as bad as the throngs of thirsty fans. Plus, you came here to play guitar with one of the most talented musicians you know, you shouldn't let your hormones get the better of you.

After a while, you start getting hot in the stuffy studio and stand up to take your jacket and shirt off, leaving you in a white tank top. That helps for a bit, but the heat is still getting to you. "Hey, B, I'm getting hot in here. Do you mind if we go outside?"

Ever since you took your jacket off, he's been laser-focused on the drum-kit, so you're not sure he hears you at first.

"B?" You repeat.

He stops his drumming but doesn't stand up. "Oh yeah, no problem, let me just tidy up the studio a bit. Can you bring the guitars out?"

"Yeah, sure," you step out of the studio with the guitar you brought and one of his acoustic ones, but when you step out of the studio, you notice dark clouds coming towards the house.

"I think it could rain; we probably should leave the instruments inside, just in case," you tell him, walking back into the studio and leaving the guitars on the couch. You notice that he's still sitting behind the drums, his head in his hands. "Hey, Brendon, you feeling okay?"

He waves you off with a laugh, still not really looking at you. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great. Just a little headache; I'm probably dehydrated. I'll bring out some waters with the next round of beers."

"Okay, if you say you're fine, I'll wait for you outside," you say suspiciously, leaving the studio.

You settle into the outdoor sitting area, kicking your feet up on the coffee table. Brendon comes out with two more beers and two water bottles, still looking a bit distressed.

"Sorry, I cut our jam session short," you apologize, as he sits in the chair across from you and crosses his legs.

"What? Are you kidding me? We were at it for hours," you swear he blushes after he says that, but he's probably flushed from drumming, "and even if it was cut off, I just wanna hang out with you, no matter what we're doing."

"Aww, I'm so glad we're friends. Ooo, and now that we have time to talk, you can tell me all about that tour story that you didn't want to write out in an email."

You two exchange stories for another half hour, but Brendon still looks pink even after he hasn't been drumming for a while now.

"Hey, you still look really hot. You wanna jump in the pool? I don't have a swimsuit, but I could just wear my tank top and panties and then change back into my t-shirt and shorts after," You suggest. He looks a little panicked if you interpret correctly, but you're not sure why. And he's getting redder but the second. "Brendon, you look really flushed; you should cool off."

He laughs, but you don't get the joke. "I actually think I should get into the air-conditioning, we could watch a movie? Plus, those dark clouds are getting awfully close. We'll get rained-on as soon as we hit the water." Sure enough, as soon as he says that, the sky opens up, and it starts pouring. You both dash through the rain to the house. He unlocks the door, and you both go inside, laughing.

Your top is positively soaked through, and you're shivering in the cold house. "You mind if I shower real fast? I don't want to catch a chill."

Brendon is looking at something behind your head, not meeting your eyes. "Well, um, you could, um, shower here. But wouldn't you rather be all comfy at home?"

"Would I rather drive through LA traffic in the rain in wet clothes than take a warm shower in your mansion? No. I'm gonna shower." You turn around, walking into his bedroom and then deeper into the en-suite bathroom. His shower is large and fancy, and you almost don't want to get out once you're sufficiently warm. You do though, it is a drought, after all. You wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and then rummage around his bedroom for dry clothes. He clearly needs to do laundry because his drawers are sparse, and his hamper is overflowing. Still, you manage to find a long t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to wear underneath.

Brendon walks in and freezes when he sees you. "Are you," he trails off, takes a deep breath, and then starts again, "are you wearing my underwear?" He eyes the black briefs you stole that are peeking out from under the t-shirt you also stole from him.

"Yeah," you say dismissively, putting your wet clothes in your purse.

"Y/N," he says exasperatedly.

"Mm? Something wrong?"

"Something wrong? Y/N, you're wearing my underwear!"

"So?"

"So my dick has been in them!"

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes. "Your dick has been in your hands, too, but it's not a big deal because, like your underwear, I presume you wash them." He gives you a look that tells you he's not convinced. "Plus, you loaned me sweatpants after I ripped my shorts a couple of weeks ago, and are you honestly telling me your dick has never been in those?"

"That's different!"

"It is not." He gives you another exasperated look. "Okay, if it's that big of a deal, then I'll take them off, geez," you relent, tugging on the bottom of the underwear.

"Ahh!" He exclaims, turning his head, shielding his eyes, and waving his other arm in your general direction as if to ward you off. "Let's all keep our clothes on."

"What is wrong with you? Why are you being so squirrely? Does my gross body really freak you out that much?" You accuse.

His eyes widen. "Shit, no, I love your gross body, fuck, I mean, I love your perfectly normal body," he stutters while you stare in silence.

"You've made your point," you say, not bothering to hide the offense in your voice. You grab your bag and storm out of his bedroom.

"Y/N, wait," he calls.

You stop and whip around to face him, "You've been weird around me all day, Brendon! When I took my jacket off in the studio, your eyes were glued to your drums! When I said we should swim, you offered to watch a fucking movie instead! When my shirt was soaked through, you looked right past me at the wall! When I asked to shower in your house, you nearly kicked me out! And now you're having fucking conniptions over your underwear!" You shout. "Brendon, I know, believe me, I know, that I don't look like your other LA friends. That I'm not model-skinny or anything, but god, you could put some effort into not making me feel like a freak."

Brendon furrows his brows. "Y/N, of course, I don't think you're a freak."

"Oh really? Because Nicole has been buck-naked right in front of you, and you didn't bat an eye, but apparently, the sight of my arms without a jacket is so disgusting that you can't look at me." Tears are streaming down your face now.

His face falls, and he rushes towards you, "Y/N, sweet girl, oh my god, no, no, that's not it at all. I," his voice trembles, "like you," he says quietly.

You scrunch your face in confusion. "Brendon, of course, you like me; we're friends, but that doesn't make any of your behavior today acceptable."

"Are you really going to make me spell it out?" he asks. "I am attracted to you. Very attracted to you. And this whole day, I've just been trying not to get aroused by the sight of you because that's gross and objectifying and disrespectful, so I've been staring at the ground and thinking about Margaret Thatcher naked so I didn't have to go jerk off in the studio bathroom," he confesses.

"Oh."

"And now I've made things awkward," he rubs the back of his neck. "So, um, see you later, you can keep my clothes. I won't need them back. Probably do something creepy with them once you gave them back anyway. Er, that was a joke. I should shut up."

Your offense and then confusion morph into understanding and then shock and delight. "Yeah, you fucking doofus," you laugh. "You absolutely should shut up."

You take two steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you, and grab his chin. You lean in, and your lips meet his without any reservation. He kisses back, unsure. Then, you take more initiative, looping your arm around his back and pulling him against you.

Brendon stays tentative but enthusiastic, letting you take the lead. "Fuck. Margaret Thatcher naked, Margaret Thatcher naked," he chants against your lips.

"How's that distraction working out for you?" You ask knowingly, pressing your hips against his.

His cheeks warm, and must be blushing. "I think you can feel as well I do that it's working out poorly." He's trying to make a joke, but he's right. You can feel him hardening against you as you kiss. You finally remove your lips from his but keep yourself pressed against him. He turns his face away, blushing like you suspected, and grinning from ear-to-ear.

You run your hand down the side of his face. "For what it's worth, I'm very attracted to you too, if you didn't pick up on that already. Probably why I was so upset," you say softly, "I can leave if you want to be responsible and take this slow," you offer. "Or," you trace the hand from his face down his neck to his chest, "you could take me back to your bedroom and apologize for hurting my feelings." You fake a pout.

Brendon's eyes darken, and he grabs your hand to practically drag you into his bedroom. He slams the door behind you, pinning you against it. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," you breathe out, and he kisses you hard. You reciprocate, not caring how sloppy and desperate you feel with your probing tongues and clashing teeth. He parts to breathe and then buries his face in your neck, nipping and kissing. You tremble, grateful for the door behind you, so you don't collapse. One of his hands is above your head, supporting himself against the door, and the other is on your hip. He plays with the waistband of the briefs you're wearing, a silent plea for permission.

"Touch me," you beg, and he doesn't feign any confusion, just slips his hand under the fabric and strokes your swollen clit with his index finger. You moan, trying to ask for more, but your vocal cords aren't working. He seems to understand, though, because he moves his hand back to gently slide his middle and ring finger inside you. Instead of thrusting them like you expect, he curls them and rubs against your g-spot. At the same time, he's still stroking your clit, now with his thumb, and kissing you. His coordination is crazy good, but it makes sense with all the instruments he plays. Your core is starting to feel warm and buzzy, and you're only half-shocked that he's coaxing an orgasm from you so soon. You don't know how you're still standing; your knees are weak, and your brain feels like it's filled with a static of lust and pleasure.

Brendon feels you tightening around his fingers and speeds up ever-so-slightly. The small part of you that's still lucid feels his dick, hard and pressing against you where your bodies meet. He isn't rutting or grinding against you, just keeping you pinned against the wall with his hips, and somehow the self-control is even hotter. He presses harder on your clit, and that does it. Your orgasm explodes through you, soaking the underwear you're wearing. Your legs turn to jelly, and you slump forward onto Brendon, who supports your dead weight easily. "That's it, come for me," he coaxes softly. You bury your face into him, feeling blissed-out and overstimulated all at once, unable to do anything but ride it out.

"Y/N, darling, can you move over to the bed with me?"

You nod, letting him support you as you take small steps to his bed in the middle of the room.

"Good girl. Can't believe this is really happening; I can't believe I get to touch you. Dreamed about you for so long," he marvels.

You crawl into his bed, settling back onto your knees. "Dreamed about you too," you admit. "God, can I take my shirt off, Brendon?"

"Pretty sure that's my shirt, actually."

You giggle. "Well then, can I take your shirt off?" You wink, regaining your composure.

He laughs. "Yes, please. In both senses, take my clothes off."

You pull off the t-shirt you're wearing and throw it on the ground, exposing your stomach and breasts to his hungry eyes. His chest rises and falls quickly as he soaks you in silently, trying to get control of himself. "I like looking at you in my underwear." His voice is gravelly.

"Well, wouldn't you rather look at me without your underwear?" you offer.

He swallows and nods. You strip completely. You know your cunt is shiny with your juices, and you're pretty sure that's what's caught his attention. Brendon takes his shirt off, and now it's your turn to stare. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans before taking them and his underwear off. His leaking cock settles against his stomach. He approaches the bed and gets in next to you, rolling on his side to face you.

"Fuck me," you moan, grasping his erection and stroking.

Brendon lets out a choked sound and gropes around the nightstand for a condom. He grabs one and hands it to you to roll on him. You spread your legs in expectation, and he takes the cue to enter you. He slides in easily with how wet and ready you are for him. You don't wait for him to start thrusting; you're too impatient. Instead, you rock your hips up to meet him. He hisses, not expecting the motion, and tenses his entire body to stay in control. It feels like it takes him forever, but eventually, he starts moving, slowly dragging his cock up and down. You squeeze your legs together to better feel him, and he hisses before his thrusts quicken, already working desperately towards release.

You can practically feel the veins running across him. "You're so much thicker than I would've guessed. Fill me up so nicely," you tell him. He throbs at your words, and you suspect the praise is turning him on even more, so when his hips snap forward perfectly into your g-spot, you praise him again. "So good, B, keep this angle, please." Your suspicions are mostly confirmed when he moans, and his thrusts falter a bit as a wave of pleasure washes over him. His hand moves to stroke your nipple while he supports himself with his other arm to avoid crushing you. You move your hand between your bodies to touch your clit, but instead, decide to form your fingers in a V and feel him moving between them instead. He hisses at the new sensation, and you love affecting him with your touch.

You finally do move your other hand to rub your clit, fast and hard. There are so many different pleasure points being activated on your body that you don't know what to focus on, so you don't focus on any; just let all the feelings meld into one as you lay back and mostly let Brendon do all the work. And god is he working hard; his muscles are tense and shiny with exertion, his head is thrown back with an expression of sheer bliss on his face, and his thrusts are unrelenting. Not to mention the hand still fondling your breast. He's gorgeous, too caught up in fucking you to muster any speech. You'd feel bad that he's putting so much effort in while you just get to lie back, touch yourself, and meet his thrusts when you can if he didn't seem so deeply gratified himself. Not only is the friction around his cock divine, but he also loves getting to pleasure you. Seeing your mouth fall open, unable to keep moans from escaping. The sex is messy and unrefined, neither of you quite knowing how to drive the other crazy yet, but pulling out every trick you can think of. You feel like a gamer smashing all the buttons to see what will work.

Despite the usual LA climate, the rain outside is pouring harder, and it's adding to the intensity and frenzy you both feel. "Shit, I'm close to coming," he groans.

"Hang on for me a little longer, Brendon, please. Just five more minutes," you plead. Admittedly, you could come too, but you only get one first time with Brendon, and you don't want it to end. He cranes his neck to suck behind your ear, clearly trying to get you to come faster.

"No fair, you already came," he complains, moving your hands out of the way to rub your clit himself. You use your free hands to play with your nipples, now rock hard from the constant stimulation.

"Shit, okay, come," you allow. As you say it, the first clap of thunder booms through the house. He sighs in relief, kissing you deeply as he lets himself go, getting lost in euphoria. You love feeling his hot come gather in the condom, and it triggers your own orgasm. You shriek as your second orgasm of the day is more intense than the first, and you're pretty sure you soak his bedspread just like you soaked his underwear.

He pulls out quickly and tosses the condom before snuggling up against you. "Guess your weird, gross body is good for something after all," he mumbles against your neck, already falling asleep.

"Hm, if only we could find a good use for yours," you retort, wrapping yourself around him.

[magalidragon]

it must be puppy love | part 2 | teaser

Distracted by work and fandom wank yesterday (don’t slide into my DMs with your BS. 😑) so I didn’t work on this how I wanted. As apologies for not getting it up today like I wanted I will offer a teaser and cross fingers I can get it done by Friday. Enjoy!

That was about the extent of it, he thought, reflecting on that particular morning. It was only a few days ago. He was so fucking confused. He brooded about it the entire way to the vet clinic, parking behind her car, and going up and inside. One of the vet techs-- every one of them wore red scrubs, so weird-- led him to the exam room, where Drogon was resting on the floor, poking at the crate where the pups wiggled around, squealing in displeasure that they’'d been taken from their mother.

Ghost rushed immediately to his children, Jon nodding to Dany, who was scrolling on her phone. "Hey," he greeted, unclipping Ghost's lead.

She smiled briefly; she had a very nice smile, he'd been remiss to tell her. "Hey. Oh look at that, Ghost you've got a new accessory."

"Passed his trials this morning."

"Amazing," she murmured, furrowing her brow as Ghost began digging at a divot in the tile. She darted a glance to him, silently questioning. He shrugged; he could pass the K-9 trials, didn't mean he had to be fully smart elsewhere. She smiled a little wider, scratching Ghost's ears. "Good boy. Check on your babies."

Drogon wagged her tail, looking up when he approached her. He knelt to her level, ruffling her ears and pressing a kiss to her nose. She was relatively cute, when you studied her long enough. He still gave Dany shit for having an ugly dog though. "How're you girl? Hmm? Pups keeping you up?" He turned to hte crate, reaching in and collecting the one closest, the little girl, whose fur had begun growing in and was now about the same snowy white as her father. She nuzzled into his chest, squeaking, litlte paws scrabbling at him.

He rubbed between her ears, lifting his gaze to meet Dany, who was still attending to Ghost. He cleared his throat, shrugging, pretending like he hadn't already been thinking about this. "You know...they're getting bigger and stuff and...we need to think about...are we gonna' keep them or...sell..."

Even he didn't feel good about the last word. He was relieved when Dany jerked her head up, horrified. "Sell them? Fuck no! You might have a heart of ice, but I actually care, these are Drogon's babies and I will not...”

"Whoa, chill out Dragon Queen." He made a 'time out' motion with his hands, not at all expecting that to stop her, which it did not. He sighed, while Dany ranted another moment about how he was just "dumping" the children because he couldn't be bothered, and finally he chose drastic action.

He swooped in and kissed her.

It had the desired effect. She stopped talking, her words catching in the back of her throat, mouth parted in surprise. He took the opportunity to lightly cup the back of her head, at an awkward angle as she was looking up from her seated position and he was bending over, the dogs and crate between them, and a wiggling pup against his chest. He was surprised himself, mostly by how gentle it was. He didn't intend it, it just...happened.

She reached up, her hand curling around his forearm, fingers digging into the thick fatigues material, and she returned the kiss, lips soft under his. He broke away first, eyes wide on hers, and saw her expression likely mirrored his, violet irises wide around her dilated pupil, her pink lips swollen, open slightly. She darted her tongue to wet them, her hand still around his arm. He dropped his from her head, lightly stroking over one of her braids across her shoulder and drifted away.

The room was quiet; the pups squealed and Drogon huffed a sigh, moving into a more comfortable position. Ghost panted, whipping his head between them both. He swallowed hard, murmuring. "No one's selling the puppies."

It threw her off, her throat bobbing, a muscle in her jaw ticking when she swallowed. "Alright," she rasped. She dropped her hand from his arm, like she'd been burned, and fisted her fingers against her thighs. Coughing, she composed herself, and he took the moment to do the same, also thrown off, not just by his initial reaction to bloody fucking kiss her, but the way hed done so. And even the way she reacted.

Like what the fuck Snow? They had no label on whatever this was, didn't want to even think about it, and he was not interested. He'd been married for five miserable bloody awful years, the only thing he'd come to realize out of that situation was that he never wanted to feel like that again and that meant no bloody relationships.

Ghost, the stupid mutt, did not seem to understand that they were in this together, and had gone and started something with the dog next door, and now it seemed he was in the same situation. Even if Drogon seemed a bit more reluctant, despite Ghost's best efforts. He was now sitting right beside her, his big fluffy butt sitting on her back legs, but Drogon didn't mind.

Dany's eye twitched, almost imperceptible. She cleared her throat and reached into her tote bag, removing a very "lawyerly" black leather portfolio. She flicked it open and took out a red pen with dragons engraved in it, uncapped it with her teeth, and began to scrawl atop a yellow legal pad. He scowled. "You suing me?"

"No," she snapped. She set the pen cap down and primly rested the notepad on her knee, legs crossed. She spoke as she wrote. "In the matter of Ghost Snow and Drogon Targaryen....custody arrangements for...." She glanced at the pups, hte one still in his arms and the other who had wiggled out of the crate and straight to Drogon, suckling eagerly. She squinted. "Well they need names, but for now we will refer to them as Child A and Child B."

He drolled, "How sentimental." What on earth was she doing? He said nothing, his heart skipping behind his ribs.

Dany continued, writing quickly. "Custody agreement shall commence upon the date of first weaning, after which Child A and Child B are no longer fully dependent on mother, Drogon Targaryen, for sustenance."

"You are so clinical, my gods."

"I am being thorough," she said, but there was no heat behind it. She lifted her eyebrows, smirking at him. "Do you want them every other day or week or what?"

He looked at Ghost, who cocked his head, tongue out at the side of his open mouth. "I think Ghost would like to see his children as much as physically possible." He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking, an idea forming. He nodded to her legal pad. "Keep working on that, but I have an idea."

"Dangerous."

[itsmeevie01]

Before A Moment in Time

ok! this is a LOT of information, but i wanted to make it easier to understand whats going on in my head when i write over the next bit!

MASTERPOST

this is Before A Moment in Time. Enjoy!

Three years before A Moment in Time. One year after Hawkmoth appeared.

Marinette Dupain Cheng is sitting at her desk. Second row back left side. Making her way up the stairs is her friend Alya Césaire. The two girls have been practically inseparable for the last year.

Fuming one row down on the other side of the aisle is Chloé Bourgeoise. Her eyes are glued to where Marinette is smiling at Alya. Nino Lahiffe is sitting in front of Marinette. His headphones are on, and his hand is moving over a sheet of paper that has a music staff on it.

Adrien Agreste can be seen bounding up the stairs, his eyes alight with the joy of going to school, even a year after he started. Behind Marinette and Alya are Rose and Juleka. Across from them are Ivan and Nathaniel. Behind the boys are Alix and Kim, who are across from Mylene and Sabrina.

Max is sitting behind the two girls by himself. In the empty seat next to him, the tech genius has a computer running through a code that he is trying to double-check.

As their classmates greet each other during the first day of school, Madam Bustier can be seen enter into the room, one Lila Rossi walking behind her curiously.

As Bustier called the class to attention, Marinette shared one more smile with Alya before spinning around. When she was facing the front, the teen blinked.

Standing there was a girl who looked vaguely familiar. It took the teen a moment before she realized that this was Lila Rossi. This was the girl who had been sued by both Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. This was a gold digger that they had warned her about.

Chloé must have made the same connection because Marinette’s phone started to blow up.

 Mariii + Chlo

Chlo- OH HELL NO

Chlo- M this chit cannot sit with me

Chlo- Dad sued her over the summer

Chlo- MARINETE

Mariii- Chlo

Mariii- hey chill

Mariii- I got this. If you can sit with Alya.

Chlo- anything

Chlo- MY WONDERFUL NONCOFFEE DEALER KEEP ME AWAY FROM THE FUCKING DEVIL

Mariii- on it, queenie

 Marinette looked up as the bell rang. Alya gave her a concerned look. With a smile, the younger girl bumped her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, Als, since I’m class president, I think it would be best if I welcome the new girl. Could you go sit with Chloé today? I promise that we can go back to normal once we get her settled.” Alya flashed her friend a smile before giving the girl a side hug.

“of course, Mari! You have such a big heart!” the girls traded smiles before Alya packed her stuff up and moved to sit with the haughty blonde. The noirette saw her teacher give her an approving smile for diffusing the situation so easily, without conflict.

Inwardly, Marinette scoffed. Outwardly, the girl gave her teacher a glowing smile in return.

 Marinette truly tried to be nice to Lila. Really, she did. Early on, the girl had learned that being nice was a better route when interacting with people who she didn’t know. Even if it was just a small smile, the noirette had always found success from kindness.

Lila was a sweet girl who had batted her eyes at her and given Marinette a small smile. The two had spent the first period of school passing notes and getting to know each other.

In all honesty, Marinette had no idea why the Italian girl next to her was branded a manipulative liar in her world. Then, during the break, Marinette saw what was going on.

When the rest of the class gathered to introduce themselves, Lila panicked. Then, Lila shifted her posture just slightly. She smiled a blinding smile that stood out to Marinette as obviously fake. She started interacting with the class, sickly sweet and subtly guiding them to beliefs.

Shaking her head, Marinette turned away. She had time during her break to call a certain someone. She needed more answers.

 “Clara! Hey… do you have a moment?” through the phone, Clara Nightingale, giggled.

“Of course, Marinette! What is going on with my favorite little cousin? Is everything ok?” the young teen hesitated, before shaking her head.

“I need you to tell me more about Lila Rossi” the dark look that crossed the singer’s face confirmed many of Marinette’s worries.

 When she sat down next to Chloé in the hotel restaurant for lunch, a look of pure disgust was dancing on her face. “this girl has filled a level of malice that I have never heard of. Chloé, she has manipulated every person of interest under the sun who doesn’t have the common sense to not listen to her bull shit. Chlo…this girl is vile. Clara told me what they had to do to sue her. One of the requirements of Lila not going to prison for a long time was getting a psych eval. Chloé…this girl is only fifteen! This is insane...” Chloé raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Today it looked like you two were good friends. Or on the way there at least.” The noirette shook her head in disgust.

“she has some good traits, but as soon as she gets in front of the crowd…she abandons everything for power. I can't trust her, but it seems that she is under multiple restraining orders. I get the feeling that as long as we stay out of her webs, we should be fine. Jagged texted though. He said that Lila can be vicious if she is provoked.” Here, Marinette looked Chloé dead in the eye. “do not cause trouble. I don’t want you to have to go toe to toe with her, Chloé.”

 Six months later.

 Marinette is settled at her desk, the swivel chair reclined as she looked at the Blonde who was in her room, grinning.

“did she really ask you out?” Chloé’s excitement paired with her nosiness was making Marinette steadily turn Lady Tyche red. Turning back to her desk, Marinette tried to hide her flaming face.

“she asked me if I wanted to go out…like a date…before my birthday.” The noirette tugged slightly on her hair. Her anxiety that had been manifesting more and more at school was not helping her now. “I told Aurore yes. We haven’t set a date yet, but it’ll be soon.” Chloé raised an eyebrow.

“are you two going on your first date on Valentine’s day? Because Mari…I refuse to be best friends with someone so cliché.” The girl flamed a darker red if that was possible.

“I really like her Chlo. But…no. she asked about the 14th. I told her that I was going to spend time with my parents that day. Plus,” here, Marinette turned back to her friend with a Cheshire cat grin. “We,” She gestured between her best friend and herself, “have a standing date. we have for the last three years. Why would I break a pact we made when we were ten, over a girl I haven’t gone on one date with yet?” Chloé’s face broke into a matching grin.

“oh, hell yea. Then, I guess I could help you get ready for that first date of yours…” the friends broke down into giggles and started debating the merits of each of the outfits the young designer had in mind.

 That night on patrol, Lady Tyche alighted on the roof of one of the local lycées.

Her blonde hair whipped in the wind that had been howling all afternoon. Across the streets, the spotted hero was able to see a pair of blue luminous eyes. Using her yoyo to pull herself over the street, the girl smiled at the younger miraculous wielder.

When her red boots hit the roof, Apate handed the girl an unmarked bag. Inside was a pastry and a hot chocolate. Both girls knew they were in for a long night.

 Apate stood noiselessly and moved to the edge of the roof. As she stood there, profiled against the ridgeline, Lady Tyche smiled to herself. Her partner could be as vicious as she wanted when they were fighting Akumas, but the girl who stood in front of her was very kind.

The Cat vigilante, as she insisted she was no hero, had a pair of ears on her head.

They were flicking to and fro while she listened to the night below. Her hands were resting on her hips, one hand toying with the baton that was usually kept in a holster on her leg. The girl’s other hand was fiddling with a ring she had slid off her finger. The skintight black pants blended into the night. The black top she was wearing also seemed to disappear when Lady Tyche wasn’t looking for her partner.

Even now, with Apate being backlit by the city lights around them, the Tyche was the more visible of the two.

“She’s coming.” Apate’s voice broke her partner out of her thoughts. “Let’s hope tonight goes the way we want it to. Otherwise, we could be royally screwed.” The Hero nodded in agreement.

 “I trust Alya. She has been a good fit for Trixx so far.” Apate hmmed in response.

“I fear that our…favorite Italian…may be too close to her. I don’t our fox’s head full of lies and manipulations if I can help it at all.” Lady Tyche winced. She had heard all about Lila’s renewed attack on the allegiances of the class that her crush was in. the past few weeks had not been pretty.

  “No! That’s…you told Lila that I was going to be your first partner! Why did you lie to both me and your best friend! Everyone knows that Lady Tyche can’t do this alone anymore! She NEEDS Miss Vixen!” Lady Tyche closed her eyes and Alya’s rant ended with a yell. The anger simmering on the reporter’s face was worrying the hero.

“Alya. I have not told anyone about you. A few people have seen you training and on patrols. You ran the ‘exclusive’,” the disdain in Lady Tyche’s voice had Alya wincing. “but no one has confirmed anything. There is a good reason. The hope,” here, the Blonde teen’s voice turned cutting, “was that you could work in the shadows. There is only one visible member of this team, but I have never been alone. Tonight, and this attitude. Well, Alya, it has proven that you are not ready to be a holder of the miracle stones.”

The ladybug holder looked over to the roof next to where she and the trainee had been standing. There, in the shadows, were a pair of blue eyes. “go ahead, Apate. Wipe her memory of all of this.”

Seven months after Alya’s Miraculous is taken away. Two years after Hawkmoth started. Two years before A Moment in Time.

Aurore smiled at the girl holding her hand.

The two were walking home from their first day of Lycée. Aurore’s blonde hair fell around her shoulders as she turned to look at Marinette.

The 14-year-old, a certified genius, was glowing at the excitement that their first day of school had brought. Although she no longer was friends with Alya, there were no real hard feelings. The rift between the former classmates had made it easier to integrate Marinette and Aurore’s social circles. Claude, Allen, Chloé, Aurore, Mireille, Nino, Kim, Kagami, Felix.

Their group was full of laughter and life. They spent most of their weekends together, even over the summer. To everyone else, the group was the picture-perfect group of teens. Inseparable for life. Aurore had loved it for so long, had loved watching her girlfriend grow. Tonight, however, she had a feeling that the last half-year was going to be left in the past.

She and Marinette needed to have a talk.

 Chloé held her best friend as the girl cried.

The two had been sitting on the floor of the heiress’s hotel suit for the last hour and a half. When the small girl had shown up, wearing an old pair of Chloé’s sweats that had disappeared years ago, sniffling into the sleeves of the hoodie she was swamped in, the older girl’s big sister senses had gone off.

Now, as her friend started to calm down, Chloé shoved a pile of clothes at her friend.

“put these on, we are leaving.” Marinette glanced at her friend in confusion, before taking the clothes and slowly changing into the skinny jeans and loose grey top. A moment later, a green corduroy jacket was being flung at her by the blonde 16-year-old who had changed as well.

Quickly catching the jacket and sliding on the matching converse that Chloé had given her, Marinette stood to join her friend. Chloé picked up her purse and looked over the two.

While she had given her best friend a simple outfit that be comfortable for the train ride that her friend didn’t know was coming, Chloé had taken a minute longer before deciding to match her friend. Her jeans were light wash as opposed to dark, and she wore a fitted white t-shirt with a cartoon spider hiding in a red chrysanthemum. The red corduroy jacket was the same color as both the embroidery and her own red converse.

“Let's go, Minette. We are going to the country house. You can truly cry there. Horses await.”

 After Marinette and Aurore broke it off, the friends drifted apart. Kagami, Felix, Nino, and Kim refused to let the others blame the split on Marinette. Mireille, Claude, and Allen claimed that Marinette was more likely to be the cause. They couldn’t imagine Aurore doing anything to hurt the teen.

Chloé, Aurore, and Marinette kept their mouths shut over the whole debacle.

Chloé hadn’t heard the whole story, but she knew that Aurore had hurt her friend, and it had led to a discussion that led to the girls both walking away in tears.

It would only be years later that the girls would reveal that they had broken up because of the confusion around their secret identities.

 A week after the fateful breakup, Adrien Agreste pulled Marinette off to the side after class.

“Adrien are you ok?” the girl asked, confused. while usually, the two didn’t interact, Marinette had noticed that all day Adrien had been pale and shaking.

“I need help Marinette. Usually, I would go to Chloé, but last time she almost got Akumatized and I just…I need help. Please.”

“what’s up?” he glanced over his shoulder, to where a group of their classmates stood gathered around Lila.

“Not here, she can't know.” Marinette blinked in shock before grabbing the model lightly on the arm. After glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if it was ok to hold onto his arm, she took off through the halls.

 By the time the two had made it to the home of one Gina Dupain just outside of what Marinette knew to be Hawkmoths reach, the blonde was bewildered. “you know the city so well. How?” she giggled slightly at the older boy before leading him to the kitchen and dropping her bag on one of the breakfast seats.

“I get stir crazy and spend a lot of my time exploring the city. Alix and I go and do Graffiti on the weekends sometimes. That means I’m pretty good at evading sight when I don’t want to be seen.” While her statements were technically true, Marinette had also left out a great deal of information in her response.

She had spent most of her time exploring the city as Apate. She grew up on the streets and would forever feel comfortable slipping into the shadows. She did go out with Alix to do graffiti, but the two also spent a good amount of time jumping into burrows to fix world-ending events.

“now, Adrien, what is going on? If it's bad enough that you don’t want Chloé upset, I expect it to be worth the trip out of the Akuma line.” Adrien nodded nervously, before going into an explanation of what had been happening in the Agreste family home.

 Three years into Hawkmoth’s reign. Marinette’s 2nd year at Lycée

 Adrien spent as much time as possible with Chloe and Marinette.

He had shown up more than once during their girls’ nights. Now, he was expected to be there.

When they had left for the weekend, Adrien had disappeared from the Agreste Manor. When had reappeared in time to get in the car that Monday, he learned that the only person who had noticed he was gone was his bodyguard. The man had called him, before joining the teens on the outing.

While the friends were getting Adrien out from his father’s thumb, Marinette was launching her brand.

She had a discussion during the branding process because the symbol that she had chosen, a chrysanthemum, was incredibly complex. Her grandmother thought it was too much. Marinette had told the older woman that she was going to use the flower because that was the one with meaning to her. She spent three weeks fending off the woman, who sent her a different flower every day, until the girl told the woman that she wasn’t going to change her mind.

Her Grandmother, her Nona, had laughed and told her that she was very stubborn, but that this time it had worked in her favor. The teen had come home that evening to a leather Jacket lying on her bed, with her named arching over the back where a chrysanthemum was embroidered in full bloom.

At the same time that Marinette was officially launching her brand and Adrien was embracing his teen rebellion, Chloé was becoming an influencer on social media. On any day that she wasn’t spending time with her friends, the blonde was working to cultivate her social media image. At 17, she started to model on the side. When she was gone, her friends would get calls during every free moment she had.

Fourth-year of Hawkmoth's Reign. 

The three were friends with the other outcasts from their college class.

Kim and Nino were often seen with Marinette when she was out on a shopping spree or seeking inspiration. 

Alix and Marinette were close, and after she became guardian at 14, Marinette had given the Pinkett and crash course on the miraculous, since she had inherited one. The two would always be fond of jumping through time and space to face world-ending events.

Kagami had insisted that Adrien and his cousin Felix make up, and now the three were a force to be reckoned with. As they entered their last year of Lycée, the friends felt like they were on top of the world.

 There had been a project due that morning that Marinette had forgotten about until the night before.

She had been up all night and had gone through three different super coffees. She had been running late when she burst out the door of the apartment.

There was a mug of coffee that was clutched in her hands, and she wasn’t looking where she was going. The guy that she collided with looked how she felt.

While he was in a suit, they were both clutching coffee mugs that they had moved out of the way on instinct before throwing apologies over their shoulder and going on with their days.

Neither thought anything of it. They had other things to worry about.

Tim Drake and Marinette Dupain Cheng had no idea that their lives had changed permanently with that one interaction that had lasted less than a minute.

AND...3000+ words later, here we are! let me know if yall have any questions.

I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later so that I can start to build with other characters now. I had a lot of fun writing the backstory, and I have thrown Cannon out the window...obviously lol.

tag list!

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh  @susiej1118 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @sassakitty @remy-289 @laurcad123  @iamabrownfox @m0chick0furan

[generallynerdy]

Allowing the thought to stay the trigger, the heart to register its trembling (Grey/Depa Billaba ft. Caleb Dume)

Summary: “I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—” Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.” They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—” Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark. “Traitors.”

Warnings: Mind Control, Violent Thoughts, Serious Injuries, Blood and Violence, Eye Trauma (not graphic but described briefly), Vomiting (in like one sentence, emetophobia gang rise up), Angst Word Count: 2,275

Prompt: Angstpril Day 3 - “I can’t.”

Author’s Note: more suffering! Yay! I like to think this ended happily but this is Angstpril so I’m not writing it lol. Also, I discovered that Kanan’s eyes aren’t actually brown, at least according to Wookieepedia but frankly that’s stupid as fuck so. Brown-eyed Kanan. And nonbinary Grey because I am apparently not the only one who loves that concept! (Also, sorry for late posting! I was unable to finish this last night :/ hopefully I can finish day 4 today as well and catch up)

Read on AO3

*

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

It's an endless loop in the back of their mind, an itch they can't quite scratch. At the Order, it breaks free and turns to a screech, a ringing thought that echoes in their head so loudly it hurts. They don't even feel themselves pulling the trigger, shouting for their squad to follow.

But when they finally come to, underneath the monster that's stolen their face, it's because they're standing over him.

Caleb. 

Commander Caleb Dume. Jedi Padawan. Traitor.

Ad'ika, their heart cries as they lift their blaster. Their shaking hands have it levelled at the boy's face, right between his big brown, tear-filled eyes.

"Grey—Grey, what are you doing? What—?" His pleading words are nearly unintelligible between his panting breaths. When the cold metal touches his face, he sobs. “Don’t! Buir, don’t—don’t—please—”

Their cheeks are wet. Caleb sees it and only sobs harder, afraid to move for fear that they’ll pull the trigger. With their trembling hands, the likelihood of a misfire is high.

Inside their mind, Grey screams. They claw at the walls of their mental prison, leaving their fingertips bloodied and their throat hoarse from their agonizing howls. The cell won’t budge. The chip won’t give. They can’t get out. They can’t save their son.

But someone else can.

A robed figure flies out of nowhere, tackling Grey to the ground and sending their blasters into the air with a flick of their hand.

“Caleb, the blasters!”

Depa.

General Depa Billaba. Jedi High General. Traitor.

Depa. She hates it when I call her General.

She pins them to the ground and presses the calloused pads of her fingers against their temple. Something like grief crosses her face. “Sleep, Grey. Sleep.”

The chip fights, but they don’t. They like to think it helps bring the darkness faster.

*

“Master?”

Caleb’s voice trembles when he asks, taking a hesitant step forward. Depa is still on top of Grey, catching her breath and making sure they’re passed out. She shuts her eyes tightly, centering her conflicted presence. Her Padawan needs her and so does Grey. This is no time to grieve for the rest of their battalion.

(She tried to incapacitate rather than kill, but they’re still gone. The light that she used to associate with them has been snuffed out by a strangling darkness that burns.)

“It’s alright, Caleb, they’re unconscious,” she says, mustering what little strength she has left.

At her word, he rushes over, clinging to the sleeve of her robe.

Any other day, he’d be indignantly distant, trying to prove himself on the battlefield and make Depa proud. But right now he reeks of terror and uncertainty. And she feels the same.

Execute Order 66, the Chancellor had said.

And then everything had gone to hell. The clones had disappeared, replaced by darkness, and the Master-Padawan pair had barely made it out with their lives. Depa hasn’t even been able to process the wave of lights being snuffed out in the Force and she knows her Padawan hasn’t either; his connection with the Force feels brittle and broken. The Jedi are dying at the hands of their closest companions, at the order of the Chancellor of the Republic, and the two of them stand in the center of it all.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. She climbs off Grey and binds them with their own set of binders, something tight in her chest as she does. Then, she turns back to Caleb. “Are you alright? No injuries?”

He shakes his head and wipes at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Just scrapes.” He glances at Grey. “That—That wasn’t Buir, was it? It felt...wrong.”

“Very wrong,” she agrees. “I don’t know what it was, but the Chancellor triggered it. We need to get off the planet.”

“Are we...going back to the Temple?”

Depa visibly hesitates. His face falls and he knows in his heart that they aren’t. Even if they did, there would probably be nothing and no one left.

“It isn’t safe. We need to lay low for a while and figure out how to save Grey,” she tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Caleb, look at me.”

He does and she smiles a little.

Even now, in what must be the worst moment of his short life, he’s ready to listen. He’s ready to do what he needs to.

She kneels down to meet his height, holding his head in her capable hands. “You will survive this,” she says like it’s a promise. She can’t say the same of her or Grey or anyone else they know, but she can promise that Caleb will live. Because she will die to see it through. “You will. Do you understand?”

Despite the fear in his eyes, he nods.

“Good.”

Depa allows herself a moment to breathe, but no longer.

“Now, we need a way out of here.”

*

Grey wakes to the buzzing of a ship and panics. The last they remember, they were on the surface of the planet, with Depa and Caleb and- oh, Force. Oh, fuck.

Did they attack them? Did they hold a gun to Caleb's head?

Their own is throbbing, something clearly wrong. Chills go down their spine as they sit up, finding their wrists held together by their own binders. They're on the floor of a cargo bay, in an unfamiliar ship, but familiar voices echo from down the hall.

"Master, they're awake!" calls Caleb after poking his head in.

He may not be showing it, or trying not to, but Grey can see the fear in his furrowed eyebrows.

He's afraid of them.

They feel nauseous at the realisation.

"Caleb—" they try to say. Their voice is hoarse.

Depa appears from the hall, a glass of water in her hand. She crosses to Grey, motioning for her Padawan to stay by the door, which he does without question. Kneeling before her commander, her lover, she examines their face. They can feel her prodding at them gently in the Force. She's trying to decide whether they're friend or foe right now.

“Are you with us, Grey?”

They hesitate, but eventually nod. “I think so.”

With a small smile, Depa helps them drink the water, but pulls it away quickly when it’s finished. She’s cautious and rightfully so, Grey thinks when they feel something in their head tug.

They must visibly flinch, because so does Caleb.

“Tell me what’s happening,” their general murmurs, putting a hand on their knee.

Shutting their eyes fiercely, they take a long moment to answer. “It’s—It’s hard to fight. It wants me to...to kill the trai-traitors,” they gasp out, finding the unknown force stronger when they speak that word. They open their eyes, horrified. “Shit.”

“You’re alright.” She takes their hand and starts tracing patterns. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”

“No, but...kark, my head hurts. My head. I think.”

“Stay still,” she warns.

She runs a hand up their temple, her eyes shut in concentration. The Force prods gently at their mind and, when it finds the offending area, something burns. Grey cries out and Depa stops in an instant, pulling back with a fearful look.

“There’s—” Glancing back at her Padawan, she takes a steadying breath. “I believe there’s something in your head that doesn’t belong, Grey. Something physical, but it’s very dark in the Force.”

“Can we get it out?” Caleb asks, his voice smaller than he is, which is saying something.

She stands, frowning. “I don’t know. I’ll set a course for—”

Grey’s face twists as the thing inside their head roars to life. “Don’t—” they manage to growl out.

There’s a lot they can’t explain to Depa in that moment. For one thing, they’d like to tell her that if the Chancellor activated the thing in their brain, he might very well be able to track them or hear their conversations through it. For another, it’s quite possible that if Dark Grey—yes, they’re calling the evil thing in their head by that now—overtakes Light Grey—Cody would be rolling on the floor now. Is Cody alive? Is his general alive?—they might just straight up contact the enemy.

Even though they can’t explain all that, their beloved Depa Billaba stops instantly, her eyes shining with understanding.

“—somewhere we can lay low and find a doctor,” she finishes instead.

Dark Grey shoves, pushes for more information. It stabs at Grey, a physical pain that makes them hiss. Out of their control, they speak.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

It makes Depa frown. She examines their face, watching as it shifts into something so unlike them it’s sickening.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” they snap again, like a mantra.

Dark Grey does not appreciate their plan.

Grey finally gets a hold of themself, dragging themself into consciousness with a heavy breath. When they look up at Depa, their gaze is determined.

“You need to leave me.”

“No!” cries Caleb fiercely.

Depa holds up a hand. “Caleb,” she warns, a reminder to mind his emotions.

He falls silent, watching his Master and his buir with something akin to horrified bafflement. Force, Grey has never seen him so openly terrified. Ever since he joined their little family, he’s been nothing but brave.

“I’m a liability and a threat,” they say, turning their attention back to Depa. “It’ll be easier to go without me.”

“We won’t leave you behind.”

They frown at her, lowering their voice. “He can’t die because of me.”

She doesn’t dare glance at Caleb, doesn’t dare give their worries away to the boy, who already has the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. “It won’t come down to that.”

“And neither can you,” they add firmly. 

Depa’s expression tells them all they need to know. That’s one thing she can’t promise.

“He needs you.”

She huffs a rueful laugh. “So do you.”

If they could, they’d reach out to hold the back of her neck and keep her close.

Hold her neck and break it.

Grey flinches back. “No—”

“Tell me what it’s saying,” she encourages, reaching for them.

An agonizing pain rips through their skull, eliciting a scream. Despite the binders on their wrists, they claw at their scalp. The thought crosses Depa’s mind that she should stop them, but she doesn’t get the chance.

They drop their hands and gaze up at her with tearful eyes.

“I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—” 

Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.” 

They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—” 

Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark. 

“Traitors.”

They lurch forward. Depa thinks they’re collapsing, but Dark Grey has other plans. They involve the vibroblade tucked into her boot, which is now in reach.

She never liked weapons that weren’t kyber-powered, lightsabers and lightsaber rifles in particular, but after a Separatist assassin nearly suffocated Grey right next to her, she became paranoid. Working through her fear was difficult, so her partner thought having a weapon under her pillow might put her at ease. For the most part, it worked. No one knew of its existence except Grey and she preferred it that way.

And now, CC-10/994 turns that trust against her.

With a fierce yell, he barrels into the Jedi traitor, ripping the vibroblade from its hiding place as she goes flying.

“Master!”

Before the other traitor can react, CC-10/994 flips the first over his shoulder, slamming her into the wall. Then, he flies at the smaller target, vibroblade tightly grasped.

The Jedi yelps and ducks his flurry of blows.

“Grey, snap out of it!” he says desperately.

CC-10/994 doesn’t flinch and leaps forward again.

“Buir! Buir, it’s me, Caleb!”

A single slash of the vibroblade has the traitor shrieking, falling back with an arm over his face. Before CC-10/994 can attack again, the Jedi Padawan throws out a hand, sending him soaring across the room. He slams into the wall with a vicious crack, all the air pushed from his lungs in an instant. For a split second, Grey rises again, ready to fight themself off, but it’s unnecessary.

Depa is there, shoving them into the cargo bay’s cell, ripping the vibroblade away, and locking the door behind them.

Grey collapses inside, gasping for breath and trembling as they stare at their own hands in horror. Blood stains their gloves. The sight makes them nauseous, so they tug the gloves off and throw them to the other side of the cell, desperate to get away.

It’s Caleb’s howl that makes them look up.

Depa is at his side in an instant but not fast enough. He pulls his sleeve away from his face and—

Grey throws up that time, into the corner of the cell.

Their blow struck true, slashing Caleb’s face from his right temple to the bridge of his nose. It’s a deep cut, one that goes into his right eye and bleeds profusely. The other eye, untouched, is blinded by tears.

“I can’t see,” he sobs, reaching for his Master, who reaches back. “I can’t—Master, I can’t—”

CC-10/994 lifts his head and smiles.

“Death to the traitors,” he spits. “Glory to the Empire.”

*

(Dark Grey uses he/him because Dark Grey follows orders, including gender assignments.)

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[achliegh]

Trail of Breadcrumbs: Part 1

Okay y’all, I haven't written fics in years and all of them were TRASH (lol). So I’m here to see if I've improved and because I have so many fic ideas in my head that I don’t know what to do with. If you have ideas and nowhere to put them, send them my way (except for fluff I get way too uncomfortable to write that shit).

CW: Smut, cringe fluff moments (because you can’t help but be a little fluffy with these himbos), Trash writing, hand on throat but no choking

All characters belong to @lumosinlove

Finn was just chilling on the couch all stretched out with his ankles crossed as he read A Tell Tale Heart (he had never actually finished an Edgar Allen Poe book and he was determined), freshly showered from their early morning weight training with his glasses perched on his forehead because he was rubbing his eyes and forgot he pushed them up there, subconsciously pulling the book closer to his face. He could hear the shower running, not knowing which if not both his boys were in there. He sighed and yawned a little as Logan walked past the couch to grab his hat off the coffee table.

“Where are you headed?” Finn reached for Logan after setting his book still open on his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist. Lo laughed and turned around with Finn's hand landing on his ass.

“I told you I had to babysit for Celeste and Dumo today Ding-Dong, don’t act like you didn’t whine for a half hour about it because we don’t get to read tonight” Leo and Finn had been taking turns reading a chapter a night out loud of The Lord of The Rings to Logan and they were all really into it by now.

“Breaking the reading streak is punishable, just so you know”

“I hope that's a promise” Lo snorted and gave Finn a chaste kiss as Leo decided to make his grand entrance in only his boxers. Water dripped from his hair down his toned chest that was flushed from his hot shower as he smiled sweetly at his boys and came to stand next to Logan.

“Tell Katie I say Bonjour when you get there!” Leo leaned down for a kiss of his own and right as their lips touched Finn pinched Logan's ass making him jump and knocking his and Leo's teeth together. Making them both pull away as Finn laughed, Logan rubbing his lips and Leo running his tongue over his teeth.

“I guess that's my queue to leave” Logan shot a half hearted glare at Finn and swatted his arm away in the most dramatic of fashions. “Bye guys, love you, don’t have too much fun without me!” he walked towards the door and shoved his hat on his head then after he slipped his shoes on turned around and blew kisses to his boys as he walked out the door.

Leo was suddenly straddling Finn, smiling, he looked him in the eyes and did the infamous Head Tilt. Suddenly, Leo was on his back and Finn’s glasses fell onto his nose and they laughed as Leo set his book and glasses on the table next to the couch as Finn started kissing around the waistband of his underwear.

“Waited for Lo to leave?”

“I didn’t want to but you know he wouldn’t have left and we would have gotten an earful from Dumo- Fuck! Finn just like that” Leo threaded his fingers through his soft auburn hair as Finn sucked him all down in one go after leaving a hickey on his hip. Leo rolled his hips and tugged on Finn's hair just like he knew he liked it. “How long did Lo say he was gonna be gone tonight” Leo was watching Finn intensely as he was pulling off leisurely swirling his tongue on the head of his cock drawing shivers from him. He gave one last long suck on the head and pulled off with a pop while panting, he loves watching Leo fall apart under him and smiles.

“About 2 hours, just while Dumo and Celeste are at dinner” he spoke calmly and nonchalantly as if he wasn’t jacking Leo off with slow tugs with a twist. He lowered his head to lick the slit wanting to taste the bead of precum starting to dribble out. Leo moans and tugs Finns hair hard enough to pull the boy up to have their lips mean in a clash of teeth and tongue, he wraps the hand not in the red locks around the back of the freckles boys neck as Finn keeps pulling hitching breaths and soft pleases from the boy under him.

Leo pulls away and starts kissing Finn's cheek to his ear and basically purrs into his ear. “Finn I want you to fuck me until he comes home~” he sucks on the spot behind Finn’s ear and he tilts his head to the side to allow Leo more of his neck and shivers when He licks from the base of his throat back up the his ear and nibbles on his lobe. “Does that sound like something you want~ if not I can always go and have fun with myself.. mmm fishy” Leo pulls away to look Finn in the eyes and see the soft amber eyes with pupils blown wide and dark with lust.

“As if I would say no” He playfully rolls his eyes as Leo laughs and stands up pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. “Let’s leave a path to the bedroom like breadcrumbs in depressing kids stories” he’s taking off his sweats and underwear leaving them in a perfect like to the bedroom and Leo shakes his head as he also takes off his boxers finally and hangs them on the doorknob then beckons the older boy with a nod of his head into the room.

Next thing he know he’s being tackled on that bed and they are both laughing as they roll a little ending up with Leo’s head hanging off the side of the bed and Finn kissing his neck still chuckling as he fumbles for the 3/4th empty bottle of lube and yells to their Alexa, “Alexa add Lube to the Shopping list” and snorts when she answers as he sits on his heels in between the younger boys legs and smiles at him. “You’re so pretty Peanut” he leans forward and kisses his forehead.

“Sap” Sunshine boy flicks Finn's forehead but can’t stop the smitten smile that lights up his face.

“You’re hanging out with Loops to much if you’re starting to call me a sap”

“What can I say it’s nice to be around someone as mature as I am” he laughs as Finn makes an offended sound and playfully smacks his thigh. “Are we gonna fuck or just laugh at each other while our dicks are out?”

“It’s not so different from every other day in the locker room”

“We haven’t fucked in the locker room-“

“Yet” Finn laughs and adds some lube on his fingers and warms it up by rubbing it between his fingers as he bends down to kiss Leo’s inner thighs smiling into the kisses as he looks up at Leo. “Ready Peanut?”

Smiling as a blush covers his cheeks, blue eyes meet brown. He nods and Finn gently pushes past Leo’s tight ring of muscle as the younger boy sigh in relief and he reaches down to grab behind his knees and pulls his legs up. Finn praises the higher power for his sexy flexible boyfriend that has given him so many ideas in the very moment. He starts pumping his finger in and out of Leo getting more and more turned on by the sounds the Younger boy is making, Leo is normally vocal but Finn can tell he’s putting on a show for him.

“Another, add another! Please Finn I need more!” Leo is moving his hips but since it’s been a while since they have last done anything Finn is a little hesitant to add another so quickly with how tight Leo is. Murmuring hold on babe and be patient, He watched his finger sinking in and pulling out of Leo so many times he probably could have got off on just that but he took a couple deep breaths and added his second finger. “Yes! That feels so good, uh.” Leo’s voice pitched up at the end as Finn curled his fingers finding his prostate, he started moving his fingers faster just grazing that spot every time. He started a rhythm of moving in and out fast and deep for three thrusts and slowing down to curl his fingers to press his prostate on the fourth. Leo had his head thrown back over the side of the bed panting and not forming sentences properly as Finn fucked him with his fingers, he brought his hands up from his knees to his ankles and pulled his legs open as wide as they could so his hands were next to his shoulders and toes touching the bed above his hands and he felt Finn stop and lifted his head to look at him. “What? Why did you stop” he blinked a couple of times and realised his boyfriend was staring at his legs with a face that was just pure awe.

“WHY HAVEN'T YOU EVER DONE THAT BEFORE, holy shit I’m gonna cum just looking at you!” Finn, with a face and chest now as red as his eyebrows, reached his hand down to grip the base of his cock willing himself not to cum at the sight of a disheveled Leo with his fingers in him and his legs stretched so nearly over his shoulders. Fucking goalies man. “ I fucking love my life” he dove in for a heated and sloppy kiss as he added another finger into Leo and pumping quickly because he needed to be in him soon or he would cumbust. ;)

Leo kissed back with a burning passion and arched his back as Finn pounded his fingers in him. When Finn pulled away to pull his fingers out and lube himself up Leo let his head fall back again with a dopey smile on his face.

“Ready my little nutter butter baby” Finn smiles and lines himself up gripping one hand on Leo’s strong thigh and one hand on himself. He looks up to Leo who is biting his lip smiling with his dimples on display and Finns heart did a dumb little flip.

“Ready when you are” Leo winks and his body hums in anticipation and then pleasure as Finn presses forward into him slowly while kissing Leo’s chest leaving small hickeys as he goes. Finn watches Leo’s face open up and his mouth open as he bottoms out. Leo’s moving his hips up to meet Finn and they both sigh. The older boy starts moving slow and Steady but snaps his hips forward causing the younger boy to lose the grip on his leg that Finn had his hand on and pulls it through his own hair tugging on it lightly as an obscene moan falls from him. The pace picks up as Finn moves his free hand around Leo’s neck to just hold not choke because Leo likes to be held but not choked. The hand on his thigh is a bruising grip and the hand on his neck is keeping Leo from flying off the side of the bed.

“I knew the trail of clothes would lead to something good~” Logan was standing in the doorway to the bedroom looking at his boys with dark eyes and a smirk. He locks eyes with Leo and strides over to squat down next to him and be face to face.

“Dites-moi à quel point il ressent mon soleil ~”

To be continued….

[rpd-rookie]

He Shouldn’t Have Done That (PART 2) - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Ever wondered what happened after your terrible fight with Leon in part 1. Well here is your answer.

Author’s Note: After receiving some messages telling me to write a sequel for "He Shouldn't Have Done That", there it is. But I must warn you, the angst is strong with this one. So get ready to cry! Oh, and I must warn you, that this chapter revolves around the theme of religion in addition to the theme of alcoholism and it also contain strong sexual terms. So if you're not okay with that, please don't read.

Tags: Angst / Alcohol Abuse; Alcoholism / Anxiety / Depression / Language / Explicit Sexual Content / Religion / Death and mourning.

  When Leon was a kid, his mother would take him to church every Sunday, dressed in his Sunday best, which was a fancy white shirt and a pair of trousers he was only allowed to wear on Sunday. Needless to say, he hated Sundays.   But his mother was such a good Christian, always wearing a silver cross around her neck, always having a Bible under her pillow. She’s the one who had told him to believe. She had told him to believe in God, in Jesus and Mary, in the Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. She had told him to believe there was someone up there watching over him, judging him, someone capable of punishing him if he would ever misbehave, sin. Someone powerful, so powerful he could decide his destiny, his fate, his life, his death, and even his beyond. Someone who would accompany him to an heavenly residence after death, that sweet oh so beautiful paradise.         Yes, that’s what his mother had told him. And he had listened and followed her teachings to the letter, maybe even longer that he could remember. He had done it because nothing could bring his mother more happiness than him behaving like the sweet choirboy from the suburbs, and that’s all he wanted back then, make his mother happy.             But with all the horrors he had seen, Leon Scott Kennedy could not believe in any god anymore. He had buried all his belief, all his teachings - much to his sweet mother’s regrets - in the ashes of Raccoon City a long time ago. And with time, he even wondered if he had ever really believed in the first place.

“That city changed me, in more ways that I can think of. It turned me into the man I am today and sometimes I wonder who I would have become if I had just stayed home on that day instead of driving right into the hellish nightmare that was expecting me there.     Possibly, some city cop whose worst worry would have been to know if there was enough paper in the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad, who knows? After all, that dude would have never become the mess I am today, that’s for sure. That dude would have never found comfort in alcohol. He would have never cast God away in favour of something able to help him reach some ephemeral paradise, something that just needed a glass to be worshipped, something that preferred cheers to amen. No, that dude would have had a nice quiet life in the suburbs with a lovely wife, two beautiful kids and a dog. And like my mother, he would have taken his charming perfect family to Church on Sunday. Would it have been better for me? For us? Maybe, cause surely, he wouldn’t have done the same mistakes I did”

7 weeks ago - D.S.O Headquarters – Washington DC

You couldn’t help but focus on the fancy pen relentlessly tapping against the glass table. Sitting at the end of the table, perfectly still, his old face appearing somewhat more rigid than usual, the President looked very impatient. And his annoyance was for once more than justified. Leon was terribly late, and by ‘terribly’ you meant ‘almost fifty minutes late’ to be more precise.   But the real problem was that he usually was never late. On the contrary, Leon was always the first person to arrive at morning meetings, most of the time carrying cups of coffee for each D.S.O agents including a special one for you: a large black coffee with extra foam on top and a small heart drawn next to your name on the cup, perfect to make you smile like an idiot - Your heart ached as you thought about it and realised there would be no more hearts drawn on your coffee cup now.

You discreetly glimpsed at your watch again, worried and imagining the worse. What if something happened to Leon? What if he drank too much again and fainted at home? Or worse, what if he had a car accident? After all, last time you heard him on your voicemail he sounded devastated and drunker than ever.     “I am sure Agent Kennedy must be stuck in traffic, Mr President.” Ingrid Hunnigan dared say in his defence. “Then why isn’t he answering his bloody phone?” The President slammed the pen against the table and let out an angry growl. Hunnigan mumbled, trying to find something to say but the President cut her off before she could even pronounce a word. “Let’s start without him.”           “Of course, Mr President.” She stood up and handed out a case file to each agent sitting at the table. When she got to you, she whispered, “Where is Leon?” You briefly looked at her and shook your head. She certainly didn’t know Leon and you had broken up. After all, it had only been a couple of days. “I don’t know.” You mouthed, trying to keep the nascent tears in your eyes.             She probably noticed how sad and worried sick you were since she pressed her hand on your shoulder before taking her place back next to the President to explain the content of the documents on the table. “An informer from the BSAA has recently sent us information concerning a possible …”

All of a sudden, the door of the meeting room opened widely, interrupting Hunnigan in her explanations. Leon had finally arrived. Seeing him instantly took a weight off your mind and you sighed, definitely relieved. But the relief was short.     “Sorry, I’m late.” His voice sounded off and rather somnolent. Hand still on the doorknob he looked at all of the persons around the table with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, seems like everyone is here. Must be a pretty damn important meeting then.” Oh no. Not now. Not here. Leon.         “Agent Kennedy. Thank you for finally honouring us with your presence.” The president declared with a cutting tone that cast a new chill in the meeting room.             “You’re welcome” Leon replied, definitely too drowsy to get the sarcasm.   You almost gasped, refusing to believe it was actually happening, and watched Leon stagger towards his usual seat next to Hunnigan. She silently gave him a file and discreetly poured him a glass of water to help him sober up a little since she had noticed – just like everyone else in this room – that your ex-boyfriend was mighty drunk. Then, she resumed her monologue, ignoring Leon’s grimace as he drank his water contrary to the President, who was glaring at him, and you, who were staring at his face, completely eating up by guilt and sorrow. Were you the one responsible for this? You thought that leaving him would probably help him realise his alcoholism not fall deeper in it.

Despite the huge level of alcohol running in his blood, Leon was astonishingly listening to the reunion with the biggest care. Actually, he was paying so much attention that when Ingrid Hunnigan pronounced his name and the words “Los Illuminados” in the same sentence he almost hit the roof. “This again? Seriously?” He cut her off, surprising everyone. “You want me to deal with that Spanish bullshit again? Is that what you’re going to say, Hunnigan? Like I haven’t done enough, already.” Ingrid suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, shocked by Leon’s sudden anger towards her. He had never talked to her like that. That was not in his nature.         “Leon, please just let her finish before...” You whispered to calm him down, hoping he would cooperate. “Excuse me. You’re talking to me? You? Really.” He sneered, clearly angry. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. After all, you haven’t been answering my calls since you dumped me.” You wanted to reply. But you knew that it would only aggravate the situation and make Leon angrier than he already was and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene or cause him more trouble.

“Is this a joke, Agent Kennedy?” The President growled and glared, definitely irritated by Leon’s behaviour. “No. The joke was your election, sir!” Oh God! Tell me he didn’t say that.             There was a sudden heavy silence. Everyone exchanged some aghast quick looks as the President was staring at Leon, his face reddened by anger, ready to burst. “Get out of here, Agent Kennedy. You are furloughed.” But Leon didn’t move and, with an air of defiance, simply replied “Whom are you going to send on your suicide mission if you kick me out? I’m the only one who can do the job here and you fucking know it.”     “Out! Out! Get out of here! I’ve had enough of you!” The President shouted, menacingly pointing his finger at Leon who remained still without batting an eyelid. “Leave this building now, Kennedy!” You decided to get up and grabbed Leon’s arm to lead him out. “Come on, Leon. You’re drunk. Let’s get you out to sober up a bit.” You said with an incredible calm but he refused to follow you “Of course I’m drunk. What else can I be? You left me. My job fucked me up. And I’m working with selfish assholes who clearly don’t care about that and want me to continue this fucking job till the day I die. So yeah, what else can I be if not drunk?”

“Gosh, if only I had known back then what the consequences of my actions would be, I would have never said those things or behaved like this. But regrets don’t matter. They don’t matter because it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t have done that, I know that there’s no turning back. I know that you will never come back. And I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you because the only person to blame here is me. And I don’t expect your forgiveness either. I know I don’t deserve it and how could you forgive me when even I can’t forgive myself? No, I expect nothing for you.”

3 weeks ago – In a bar somewhere in New York

He didn’t know her name and he was quite sure he hadn’t even asked before locking himself with her in the toilet. And truth to be told, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need to know her name to take his pants down and he didn’t even need to hear a single word coming from a pretty mouth either. Actually, all he wanted that mouth of hers to do was to keep sucking him off right now. Yes, that’s all he wanted. Hand in her black hair, his head against the dirty wall, he was feeling dizzy with pleasure … and alcohol, especially alcohol. A routine he had grown even fonder of since he had been furloughed. “Yeah, right, suck that cock, you dirty slut.” How many glasses had he had since he entered that bar? Six? Eight? Meh, better not thinking about it right now. “That’s it.”

His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the floor, the blue light of the screen catching his weak attention. He managed to read “Hunnigan” and sighed. “What the hell does she want?” He mumbled, annoyed. “What did you say?” The girl asked but he chose not to answer and instead shove his cock back in her mouth. But the phone kept on buzzing on the grimy tiles and Leon couldn’t take his mind or his eyes off it, his professionalism getting the better of his drunken self. “Fuck” He cursed as he bent to grab the device, pushing the girl away from him, making her lose her balance and fall on her rear.     “Better be important, Hunnigan.” He immediately said, annoyance tinting his drunken voice.         “Leon.” Her voice was strangled and trembling. It didn’t take a genius to get she had been crying. And Leon knew that if Hunnigan was crying then something terrible had certainly happened. “Give me a second, Hunnigan.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and pushed the door of the toilet, leaving his brief conquest high and dry on the floor. “Where are you going?” She squealed but he didn’t listen. He got out of the bar to find a quiet place, phone still against his ear, listening to his partner sniff on the other side of the line. “Alright. What’s going on? Do you need anything?” He was worried. Maybe something had happened to her. “No” She said, her voice shuddering even more than before. “Where are you? Are you alone?” She asked.   “Yeah. I’m outside a bar, in New York. Why?” He dared ask, impatient yet apprehensive to know what was actually going on. “Sit” He frowned and froze. That didn’t sound good. Nothing is ever good when someone tells you to sit down. “Hunnigan.” “ Y/N is dead.”

It was as if someone heavy and massive had instantly dropped on him, as if something had punched his stomach and crushed his chest in a single move, preventing him from breathing, preventing his heart from beating, preventing all his members from moving.               That was not possible. This couldn’t be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare or a perhaps hallucination cast by alcohol. But as soon as Leon heard Hunnigan saying his name again, he knew this was too real for this to be the mere fruit of  his imagination or his subconscious.         “How?” It was the only word that he managed to say, feeling too numb to make a complete sentence right now. “Leon that wasn’t your fault.” “How?” He insisted. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know why you would never come back to him, why he would never see you again, kiss you again. But foremost, he needed to know who was the son of a bitch responsible for it.   “ In a mission in Spain.”

His phone immediately fell to the humid ground, breaking in a thousand pieces just like Leon’s whole body. His knees bent under the sudden weight of pain, anger and guilt and soon he collapsed to the sidewalk, completely appalled, tears flooding his blue eyes.  

He had done this. It was his fault. All his fault.          

Disoriented and panting, he started looking all around him for something, anything that could help him get out of this hell. But there was nothing and he was alone. He would forever be alone now.          

He had killed you. You were dead because of him.    

Leon screamed, face reddened by rage, angry tears flowing down his face. His fists hit the ground repeatedly, hard, so hard, his knuckles started bleeding. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even see it. He couldn’t feel that pain either. The only pain he could feel right now was the one from his heart being torn out from his chest, a pain that would ultimately leave an emptiness he would never be able to fill ever again. But he wanted to feel pain. He wanted to feel that precise pain, finding it a fitting punishment for everything he had done that had lead to this moment, that had led to your death.

Was it God punishing him? Was his mother right all along? Was He making him pay for what the pain he had brought you, for all the mistakes he had done, for choosing to worship a fucking bottle of whisky instead of Him? Was it his plan all along?

“IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?” Leon shouted on his knees, looking at the menacing stormy sky.

He bent over the sidewalk, head in his arms, sobbing and sniffing loudly, moaning your name, begging you to come back. “Please don’t leave me here.” But just like God, when Leon was a little boy praying with his mother at the Sunday mass, you didn’t answer. “I’m sorry.”             He had never wanted this to happen to you. He had never wanted your life to end like this. All he had ever wanted for you was your happiness even if it meant a long and beautiful life without him. Because if a bottle of whisky smashed against the wall had made him realise one thing is that you deserved to find the person that could love you better than him, a person to worship you just as his mother worshipped God and he worshipped his liquor. Because you were the only thing worth worshipping in this goddamn world, the only thing he would gladly believe in. Because, if religion was meant to bring comfort, if God was truly there to watch over him, judge him and punish him as his mother had told him then you were his God all along.       After all, who if not you brought him the comfort when he needed it? Who if not you watched over him when he was in a very bad way? Who if not you judged him when he needed to be judged and no one dared to do it? Who if not you can make him fall on his knees like a pilgrim and wish for a paradise just to have the hope he would one day see you again?          

He stayed on that sidewalk for at least an hour on that night, still and quiet, completely empty, feeling the rain pour on him, until two policemen sent by Hunnigan went to look for him. “Are you okay, sir?” No, no he was not. And he wasn’t even sure he would be okay ever again. But he eventually got better.

“ I haven’t had a single drink in three weeks. Hunnigan says that I should feel proud but I don’t. Because look what I needed to quit.”

Leon looked at the flowered marble tomb at his feet, staring at your name with an intense sadness and melancholy he would never be able to get rid of. He had taken him a while to come here, refusing to step a foot in this cemetery even for you funeral because that would be admitting your death and he couldn’t do that. But that he was here, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how cathartic talking to you was.

“ I’m leaving for Spain tomorrow. President’s order. I guess that despite being a complete asshole he is not very resentful. I have no idea what’s expecting me there but I promise you, I’ll find whoever is responsible your death and I’ll make them pay. They will learn they shouldn’t have done that.”

[trials-by-blood]

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

  This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

  In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

  Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

  One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

  Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

  Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

  The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

  Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

  Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

  It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

  She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

  Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

  One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

  She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

  The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

  When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

  This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

  Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

  Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

  The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

  "You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

  Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

  Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

  "I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

  Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

  "N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

  Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

  A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

  Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

  She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

  The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

  Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

  She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

  "UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

  Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

  Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

  Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

  "I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

  Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

  "Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

  Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

  There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

  There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

  In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

  "Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

  He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

  She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

  Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

  Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

  After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

  More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

  It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

  "The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

  "W-hat was it? His name?"

  "Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

  Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

  "I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

  "Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

  "As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

  If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

  Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?