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harringtonstilinski · 2 years

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It’s A Date - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,530 Warnings: ST4 spoilers, fluff, little bit of angst Smut: car sex between m+f, mutual masturbation Requested: Nope. Based off a prompt from this list A/N: Hi, friends! Of course, my first Steve Harrington fic is a smut piece, haha! This contains spoilers for S4, so if you haven’t watched it already, pls do not read. If you have any requests for our mom of 6, my askbox is open for requests. I might overuse the gif below because hotdamn🥵!!! Anyways, I hope you like this little piece! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“Dusty! Hurry up, you’re gonna be late!”

Do you know how many times a week I hear that? Five. Five days a week! All because my brother is still in his room, doing God knows what!

Upon hearing Mom’s voice calling his name again, I pulled the covers off my body and got out of bed. Opening my bedroom door, I glared at Dustin’s. I walked over to it and opened it up. “If you don’t hurry the hell up, I’m gonna drag you out of here by your hair. Got that, dipshit?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, getting up from his desk chair. “I was talking to Suzie.”

Confused, I asked, “Why?”

“None of your business. Besides, aren’t you late for work?”

Facial expression going serious, I asked, “What time is it?” before going back to my room to look at my clock. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Keith is gonna kill me.”

I quickly changed my shirt and brushed my hair out. Since I had a phone in my room, I called up Family Video. As it rang, I searched for my jeans that I thought were on the floor. They ended up being on my vanity chair.

“Family Video.”

“Steve? Holy shit, thank you for answering.”

“Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be here by now?”

Resting the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pulled my shorts down and began putting my jeans on. “That’s why I’m calling. I apparently overslept and somebody was supposed to come pick me up.”

“I was? Damn, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Cover for me until I get there?”

“What should I tell Keith?”

“Lost track of time running an errand?” I heard Dustin’s voice and got another idea… well, excuse. “I had to wait for Dustin ‘cause Mom needed me to take him to school. It’s also a perfect excuse for me to use the car today.”

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” I heard Keith asked.

“I’m on the phone with her now. She has to wait for her little brother so that she can take him to school.”

Silence. I stopped zipping and buttoning my jeans to hear what else Keith had to say. After a few more seconds of silence, I whispered, “Am I in the clear?”

“Not in the slightest,” Keith answered. “If you’re late again, you’re fired.”

“R-roger that.” I hung up after that, quickly zipping and buttoning my jeans before grabbing my vest with my name tag attached. I went to the kitchen, seeing Mom standing at the sink. “Can I borrow the car?”

“What for?”

Looking around to find the clock I knew was there, I spotted Dustin about to walk out the door. Quickly turning my head back to my mom, I said, “Dustin asked me to take him to school.”

“No, I didn't,” said boy responded, confused.

“Last night, you did.”

“Before you two start up, yes, you can borrow the car,” Mom said.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I love you! I’ll be safe!” Walking towards Dustin, I said, “Your ass owes me.”

~~~

10:30AM. Only 30 minutes late for work. It took me all of 15 mins to get Dustin to school and myself to work. Did I go over the speed limit? Maybe. Was I driving like I didn’t care about the speed limit? Maybe. I mean, I didn’t get pulled over or anything, so I’m good!

Once I walked in the video store, I was met by Keith at the front counter. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you. We’ve already established this,” I answered. I walked around the counter and straight to the back to set my stuff down and clock in. Once that was done, I immediately got to work on putting away the tapes people had returned.

“And then Vickie laughed,” I heard Robin say. I peaked out from one of the aisles to listen in on her conversation with Steve. “And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh, either. It was like…”

I moved out of the aisle, knowing that she had to be at the basketball game the night before. “It was genuine, right?”

She looked at me and smiled a little. “Yeah. It was.”

“I remember when I used to make someone laugh genuinely,” I said, looking in Steve’s direction.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Steve and I dated for about a year. We got together the night he fought the demodogs, and then we broke up right before I was supposed to leave for school. Yes, my feelings are still there. Are they still there for him? I’m not sure. Anyway.

I went back to putting the movies back up, and before I knew it, about 15 minutes had gone by. Sitting down behind the front counter, I watched the movie that was playing; Doctor Zhivago. Don’t ask. Robin put it on. A body sat down next to me.

“Ya’know, if I’m utterly and totally right, I would say that Steve still has mad feelings for you.”

I looked over Robin, giving her a face of… well, curiosity. I looked back at the tv, crossing my arms. “Yeah, I’m not so sure.”

“Hey, guys, check this out,” Steve said, turning the tv behind the counter on.

Robin and I both moved to the front of the counter; Robin sitting in a chair, me sitting on the counter, and Steve standing. I was in the middle. What was on the television disturbed me; a teenager from Hawkins High was killed.

My first thought was, “Dustin.” I hadn’t realized that I said his name aloud until I felt an arm around me, the hand attached rubbing my left arm up and down.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steve said.

“Better be,” I said, tearfully. “Or else I’m gonna revive him and kill him myself.” Hearing the front door open, I quickly gathered myself, but was shocked when I heard a voice say, “Hey, Steve.”

I turned around so fast, I thought I gave myself whiplash. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“You see this?” Steve asked.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked, Max right on his tail.

“Someone was murdered.”

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin enunciated.

“Two, why?”

“Actually, we have three,” I said. Robin, Steve, Dustin and Max all four looked at me, but my eyes landed on Steve’s. Shrugging, I said, “If you wanna count Keith’s, it makes three.”

“Three works,” Max said.

“Guys, what’s going on? Does it pertain to the person was murdered?”

Taking off his backpack, Dustin said, “Y/N/N, move.”

Moving, I asked, “What fo–” Interrupting me, Dustin slid his bag across the counter, causing Steve and I to shout, “What are you–?”

“My pile,” Robin complained.

Dustin slid across the front counter, knocking over the tapes Steve stacked, causing him to shout, “No, no, no! My tapes! Dude!”

I had moved as soon as I knew what my brother was doing when he slid his bag and then his body across the counter. I walked up to him as he sat down at the computer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Setting up base camp,” Dustin said.

“Base camp? Dusty, you can’t do that. This is my place of work.” I looked behind me at the back of the store. “If Keith finds out you’re back here, I’m dead.”

“You won’t,” Steve said.

I looked at him, asking, “What?”

“He left after you got here,” Robin said. “While you were in the back.”

Sighing, I said, “I’m gonna kill him.” Looking back at Dustin, I asked, “Why do you even need the computer?”

“Eddie’s friend’s phone numbers,” Dustin said.

“Your new best friend you think is cooler ‘cause he plays your nerdy game?” Steve asked.

“If you stop complaining about Eddie, I’ll go on a date with you,” I said, looking at Steve.

I turned back around to watch my brother, seeing him writing down names and numbers. Groaning loudly, I walk to the front of the counter to help Robin finish picking up.

“You want me to strangle him or should I let you do those honors?” Steve said.

“Take turns,” Robin said.

“Oooh, good idea,” I smiled, looking back and forth between the two.

“Fill them in, please,” Dustin said.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asked.

I looked at Max, who looked like she didn’t want to say anything, but told us anyway.

~~~

Apparently, Eddie had killed Chrissy Cunningham, and how he’s on the run from the cops… or at least that’s what I got out of it.

“So, he killed her or something else killed her?” I asked.

“I’m thinking something else,” Max said.

While Robin, Max and Dustin called Eddie’s friends, we ended up getting a few customers in the store, to whom Steve and I both attended to. As I walked past him and a female customer, I overheard him try to explain Doctor Zhivago to the poor girl, who stated she had a boyfriend.

After I was done with my customer, I noticed that Steve had walked this girl to the door and stood there as she got in her car and drove off.

“Stop gawking,” I said. He pulled himself back in the store after saying the GD word. Looking at me, he gave me those eyes that I knew was him beating himself up on the inside. I took a step closer to him, almost chest to chest. “Hey, listen. If you can go the rest of our shift without complaining about Eddie or beating yourself up mentally, I’ll go on a date with you. Tonight.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Lover’s Lake. Pick me up at 9. I’ll be sitting on the trunk of my mom’s car.”

“It’s a date.”

“I might have a lead,” Max said, interrupting our moment. She started explaining something, but all I heard was one name; Reefer Rick.

“Wait a sec, I know him,” I said, walking to the counter.

“You do?” they all asked.

“Yeah. I used to buy weed from him back when I was a sophomore. I know where he lives.”

~~~

Robin, Max and Dustin gave the plan of going to see Reefer Rick as soon as possible. So, the five of us went to see him, only for him to not be at home. We found Eddie, though, in the boat house, hiding in a boat.

He explained what happened with Chrissy after we convinced him to tell us. As he was explaining what happened with her bones and how they were snapping, I shivered and turned my head to the side with my eyes closed.

I jumped when I felt an arm around me again. The arm belonging to Steve. I did what I always did when he did that; curled into him the best I could.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie asked.

I looked over at him, sniffling, “No. We don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N! I know how this sounds.”

“We’re not bullshitting you. We believe you.”

“Look,” Dustin said. “What I’m about to tell you might be a little… difficult to take. You know how people say Hawkins is… cursed? They’re not way off.”

Sniffing again, I said, “There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins, and sometimes it bleeds into ours.” “Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max said.

“There’s monsters in this other world,” Dustin said. “We thought they were gone.”

“But they’ve come back before,” I said.

“That’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again,” Max said. “We need to know.”

“That night,” Robin said. “Did you see anything?”

“Dark particles, maybe?”

Eddie shook his head before Dustin explained, “They would almost look like dust, swirling dust.”

“Or snow,” I said.

“No, there was nothing you could see or touch,” Eddie said. “I tried to wake her. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell,” Dustin said.

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s Curse.”

Rubbing my arm again, Steve asked the group, “Who’s Vecna?”

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered.

“A spellcaster,” Eddie said.

“A dark wizard.”

~~~

After taking Max and Robin home, Steve took me and Dustin home… well, mainly Dustin since it was already about 9pm. When he got out of the car, Dustin asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Tell mom not to wait up,” I said. “There’s a conversation that needs to happen.” I looked over at Steve for a second before looking at the sky, lightning striking.

“Make it fast.”

Steve drove off towards Lover’s Lake, the silence in the car deafening. “Hey, listen,” he said. “What happened between us–”

“Can we pause this conversation until we get there?” I asked. He sighed and went back to not saying anything. I watched as the rain started to come down, lightly before it gradually got heavier.

I looked out at the lake as soon as Steve put his car in park. After a few seconds of silence, I said, “I don’t know why I did it.” Looking down at my lap, I tried to will the tears back. “I was either scared you’d cheat on me or that I’d cheat on you. Truth is…” I sniffled. “I never stopped caring about you, thinking about you, or… loving you.”

I looked at him, seeing his eyes already on me. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know, I just– I had that small fear. And no, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you because I did and still do. It was me and my stupid brain.” I couldn’t hold the tears back as I said, “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He cradled me the best he could with us being in the car. “Hey, it’s okay. I understood then and I understand now.” I looked up at him the best I could as he looked down at me. “I still love you, too.”

Without thinking, I leaned up and kissed him, feeling him kiss me back. A simple kiss turned into a make out session which turned into me climbing into his lap after he pulled the seat back.

Detaching his lips from mine, he smiled a little, saying, “Bring back memories?”

I took my shirt off and nodded, but I said, “Shut up and kiss me.”

We quickly locked lips again before I helped him take off his shirt. His lips went for my neck as my hands went to the back of his head, gently balling up his hair in my fists. He found my sweet spot, which made me moan.

“God, I’ve missed that sound,” he said.

“Steve,” I breathed.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up, please.” I hadn’t realized that he unhooked my bra and pulled it off my breasts a little until I felt the flesh of his hands on the flesh of my breasts. “Steve, do something.”

I put my arms down, feeling my bra straps fall down before I felt Steve’s hands on my back, pulling me straight. I moaned loudly as I felt his lips wrap around my nipple, him hardening the bud.

Pulling away from my breast with a small pop, Steve said, “There’s my girl,” before moving on to the other one, eliciting another moan from me.

I felt his bulge on my core, so I reached down once he pulled away from my breast again and palmed him through his jeans, making him groan. After doing that for a moment, I looked down at his button and popped it, unzipping his jeans right after.

Without him even saying anything, I got up on my knees as best as I could so that he could slide his jeans down his thighs. Before I could reach into his boxers, he said, “Do you remember where I keep them?”

I nodded, turning my head to the glove box and reaching the best I could to open it and retrieve a condom. Steve and I were both a panting mess, our breathing heavy. I turned back to him, holding the packet up and smiling. “Are we really about to do this?”

He nodded while smiling before taking the packet out of my hand. “Yup.”

I chuckled before I looked down at his package, reaching for it. I looked at him and asked with my eyes if he was totally sure, to which he nodded just slightly.

It’s not like Steve and I never had sex before because we have. We just haven’t had sex in about seven months, so I just wanted to be sure with him before we went any further.

Reaching into his boxers, I wrapped my hand around his hardened length, pumping slowly a few times to get the blood flowing even more. Before long, I started pumping faster, finding a rhythm.

Steve moaned, letting me know he was liking what I was doing. Not realizing that he popped the button on my jeans and unzipped them, I moaned as well when I felt his finger enter my core. Mutual masturbation, I guess.

“Mmmm, baby, baby, baby,” Steve said. “You keep going, I’m gonna cum right all over your hand.”

I stopped, putting my hands on his face to pull him in for a deep kiss. He pulled his hand from my panties before I felt him tap the outside of my thighs. I got up on my knees again before he broke the kiss.

“Sit over there,” he said, breathing heavily.

I did as he asked and sat in the passenger seat to finish undressing, him doing the same. “Do you have a blanket in the back?”

“Always,” he smiled.

I watched as he rolled the condom down his length after taking it from the packet. He grabbed my hand and helped me back over, but not before I hit my head on the roof of the car. “Ow, fuck!”

He chuckled while holding my head, kissing where I hit it. “Are you okay?”

I chuckled as well, looking up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

After calming down, I looked down and grabbed his hardened cock, giving him those eyes once more. He nodded again, so I carefully lined him up with my entrance and slowly slid down, moaning all the way.

“Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” I breathed.

“You know you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “I do.” After adjusting for a moment, I started bouncing… or what bouncing I could do considering we were in his car.

Steve and I were still breathing heavily, moans coming out of my mouth left and right. I felt his hands on my hips, his own meeting mine.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I breathed, stopping my movements. “If you’re wanting to do that, we should lay the seat back. It feels awkward.”

He thought about it for a second before nodding and saying, “You’re right.” He laid the seat back and told me to stay on my knees before we started up again; me bouncing and him thrusting up into me.

With my hair in front of my face and my mouth open, I moaned with every thrust Steve made.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunted. “So goddamn beautiful.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” With one more thrust into me, I came all over Steve’s protected cock. Leaning forward, I caught myself with my hands on the top corners of the seat.

With his hands on my hips, I looked down at Steve, seeing him eye our bodies meeting, sweat forming on his brow. “Almost there,” he grunted.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I moaned loudly.

With one final, “Fuck!” from Steve, he stopped all movements, grunting while his hips jerked, letting me know he had came.

We didn’t move from our positions, just sitting there trying to catch our breaths. After a couple of minutes of being completely still, I moved my hand from the seat to Steve’s cheek, bringing our lips together.

When we pulled apart, we rested our foreheads against each other. I had my eyes closed, so I couldn’t tell if his was open or not.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “But, uhm, can you move? I’m getting soft.”

I laughed at his statement, nodding my head. I moved to the backseat, hoping he would pick up what I was laying down. Grabbing the blanket, I wrapped it around myself, noticing that Steve was pulling his boxers and jeans back up.

“Y/N/N?” he asked.

“Back here, dorkwad.”

He turned his head and smiled when our eyes met. He looked at my clothes before handing them back to me, silently telling me to get dressed, and after doing so, he climbed in the back with me, laying down in the seat first before I laid on top of him.

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down my back. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me, too,” I smiled. “Next time we do this, though, at least take me to dinner first.”

He chuckled before saying, “It’s a date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! i hope did steve harrington justice! i’ve been wanting to write for him since season 3 came out but just didn’t have major inspiration until now! but let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on June 3, 2022

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery x reader #joe keery x y/n #joe keery smut #steve harrington x henderson!reader

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enaelyork · 2 years

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All it's fake (or not) ! - Part -1 F!Reader x Agent Stone (Fake couple) F!Reader xRobotnik

Okay i'm so sorry for the time, but it's not possible for me to make a one shot with this idea. Soooo i did something stupid again.

Fake couple trope/ Ennemy to lover / Jealousy is for Robotnik /

Tag list is open

-Doctor, I know I haven't worked with you for a long time, but supporting an antisocial is not part of my skills.

Y/N stood there in front of him, the goblet still smoking in her hands. She had hoped, stealing it from Stone, that taking it to the doctor would make him kinder to her. But obviously, nothing could make a guy like him more sympathetic.

-You don't have many skills anyway!

- Ha! Hello doctor, how delighted I am to hear the sound of your voice again. She spat humorously, putting down the cup. You had to believe that coffee had a strong power of persuasion over him.

- May I know where Stone is? he added without even asking her how she feel. He hardly dared to look at her and it tended to disconcert her. Why had the doctor been avoiding her so much since the night Stone made him dance with her? It wasn't that terrible, was it? She danced so badly?

- He is busy. She lied, in part at least.

- Busy ? And what is my assistant doing if not being at my order?

- General Walters asked to see him, and besides… She took a quick look at her watch. Know that I have to join them in about five minutes.

She could hear the doctor perfectly swallow.

-You ?

- Perfectly.

-And Stone?

- That's right, doctor.

For the first time in the ten interminable minutes she had been in that devil's workshop, the doctor had looked up from his accursed machines. In his head seemed to form mathematical equations that had nothing to do with the problems she studied in elementary school.

-And me ?

-I beg your pardon ? she asked, as if she desperately wanted to hear the tone of voice he used to ask his question. Between fear, anger and something she couldn't decipher.

-Walters didn't tell you anything about me?

She shrugged.

-No, he probably thinks that you are too busy on your machines, or to be pissed off.

-Get the hell out of here Y/N! He spat like venom, she didn't need to be asked. Truth be told, pissing him off had been her favorite pastime ever since he'd given her such a nasty welcome on her first day. Y/n was not the type to be impressed by unsympathetic and unpleasant bosses, and this one seemed to count in his many doctorates that of the biggest asshole on Earth.

So much the better, if he thought he was discouraging her in this way, he was putting his finger in his eye. Y/N had cracked many worse than him.

—

Every mechanism had to be in its place, they were, he was sure of it and yet nothing worked as he wanted? Why ? And then why had Stone been summoned to Walters with that idiot Y/N and… Why was he thinking about that?!

The doctor sank into the back of his chair with a sigh. It suddenly seemed stuffy in his studio. Even though he did everything he could to get this question out of his head, it kept coming up on repeat.

Why were Stone and Y/N summoned together?

And him in all this? Wasn't he the most competent of all? Well, maybe those two alone could equal half his brain, but only thanks to Agent Stone. He might be stupid, but he wasn't as stupid as the rest of the humans he had met.

But her.

Since she had arrived, since she had interfered in his balance, something disturbed the doctor. Like a part that jams a machine and that we can't extract. He had tried everything to get her to leave. Silence (which she filled in with stupid jokes until he broke), meanness (he was good at it, but she was unlucky too), and indifference (except that it was impossible to stay indifferent to Y/N and…oh wait?), nothing worked, nothing!

He backtracked in his reasoning.

Indifference.

Impossible.

That was the problem, it was impossible. Nothing she did left him indifferent. That night, when Stone overindulged in champagne and tricked him into slow-dancing with her (who was just as drunk as his dorky assistant), Robotnik didn't just feel sick. He had felt something else that bothered him more than anything.

He'd smiled at one of those awful jokes (they sucked even more when she was drunk).

Well, she also called him a condescending bastard, while wrapping her arms around his neck, that's when things got out of hand. He thought he was in control, but that's if he pushed it away.

But he hadn't.

-What is happening to me?

- Are you okay doctor?

He jumped when he saw his assistant appear behind him. Did he speak out loud? Considering him for a moment to verify his hypothesis, he noticed that the agent didn't seem more worried than usual.

-Nothing ! Just that awful machine! He grumbled before turning around with a contemptuous look.

- Nice, Doctor, it reassures me to be able to leave you alone then.

He stopped breathing.

For several seconds.

The time that the information passes six times in his head.

-Agent Stone, before I ask you to pin yourself to the wall, I don't think I heard very well what you just said to me.

-Well…I was summoned by the general and…He sent me on a mission.

-On a mission ? He repeated his two words with a mad desire to grab her by the collar. On a mission, without me? he added with a voice straight out of hell.

-Yes…Doctor, I…How can I explain…

- WE'RE GOING TO HAWAII!!!!!

A terrible thundering voice had just tumbled through the workshop, like a devastating storm.

-I am disturbing ? Y/N threw, observing the Doctor and Stone, visibly very busy. We could therefore no longer martyrize our employees without being disturbed by this unbearable little...

- Yes, you are disturbing, Y/N!

- Ha, yes I understand, you're saying your heartbreaking goodbyes to your favorite assistant, but I guess you already have a robot programmed somewhere to make coffee for him, don't you? Don't worry, I'll take good care of him.

Did he just hear well?

- How do you take care of him? And how ?

-Well, doctor… Y/N and I are sent on an infiltration mission.

It didn't happen often, but he really wanted to laugh. Y/N and Stone, together, on a mission? The end of the world was soon...

-In Hawaii? he hissed in a contemptuous tone.

- You're jealous, aren't you?

- Pffff! he rolled his eyes, Y/N definitely didn't understand anything. If you think sunbathing on the beach and playing silly games makes me feel like it, you don't know me well.

- Oh, I know that for you it's only the machines that count, but I've always dreamed of seeing you in a Hawaiian shirt.

He had to force himself to control the redness of his skin.

- And this mission… He started to change the subject, what will it consist of ?

- We have to infiltrate an international business convention. The government is questioning the activities of one of them and would like to know if…

-Shhhut, Stone, we must say nothing! She teased, leaning on him. Y/N seemed to become very familiar with his assistant and he didn't like it at all. Especially since Stone didn't hesitate to become extremely friendly with her, which pleased him even less.

-For infiltrators you are not discreet! He continued in a scathing tone, oddly the anger inside him didn't seem to subside, even in the sarcasm.

-Well, it's part of our game not to be discreet! Y/N continued with that smug tone that annoyed him so much. Know that Aban and I...

Wait, did she just call him by his first name?

- Did you just call Stone by his first name?

- Of course, since for our mission we…

- We have to pretend to be a just married couple.

There, no doubt, he had just had an attack.

-Doctor? Stone threw in a worried tone, are you okay? Why did you get up? Where are you going ?

Where is he going ? It was obvious, right? Throw an atomic bomb in Walters' office for having dared to imagine and above all to apply such a lousy plan!

They paid nothing to wait. Pfft! And this Y/N who seemed delighted to pass this mission with that moron Stone when she could very well stay here with him. Besides, why wouldn't Stone go with someone else? Or even that they don't go, neither of them? At the limit it would do without coffee, but that…

He will never accept it.

#sonic fandom #robotnik #ivo robotnik #dr robotnik #robotnik fanfiction #doctor robotnik #jimbotnik #robotnik x reader #fanfiction #agent stone #jimbotnik fanfiction #agent stone fanfiction #agent stone x reader #fake couple #ennemy to lover #Robotnik with hawaian shirt #sonic the hedgehog #sonic cinematic universe #sonic movie

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darthwritings · 2 years

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[ASMR Script] Tiefling at the Tavern

Summary: After traveling by themselves for quite some time, the listener comes upon a most curious tiefling when they stop for a night at a tavern. Though bustling with all sorts of other adventurers traveling from lands near and far, the listener is mildly enthralled with the mysterious, ornate bard named Nobody who, with a little flirting and a lot of jesting, offers to use their tarot cards to read the listener's fate and fortune.

Setting: High Magical Fantasy (D&D)

Tags: First meeting, flirting, gender ambiguous, tiefling speaker, human listener

Word count: 2.2k

Google Docs Version / Reddit Post

(The audio opens up to the sound of a tavern bustling around the listener. There are faint voices all around, and perhaps even soft music echoing through the space. The listener walks forward for a short period of time, the motion echoed with footsteps over the wooden floor. If possible, there is the occasional 'excuse me' and 'watch where you're going' from a few other adventurers making their way through the tavern around the listener.

The footsteps eventually stop, assumedly the listener unsure where they're able to sit when the tavern is so full up of people—is there any hope for them to even find a room available? In the middle of this proposed thought, a voice breaks out from the muddled noise and captures the listener's attention.)

(The voice that calls out has a light accent, but is relatively friendly. They speak with an enigmatic but vibrant sort of tone, like one that has many years of experience in entertaining and amusing other people.)

Oi! You there! (pause) Yes you dear, the one who just walked in! You're not going to find any open rooms if that's what you’re looking for. And good luck trying to find someone to tell you that in the first place!

(There's a pause as the listener is given a chance to sift through the words, perhaps even with more people pushing past them with a series of 'move' and 'excuse me' further insinuating how busy the tavern is.)

...You can sit right here by me if you’d like. There isn't anyone I'm saving it for anyway, and you look like you could use a seat.

(Footsteps echo as the listener seems to take the tiefling up on their offer, and the sound of a chair gently scraping against a wooden floor and them almost falling into it seems to reveal just how tired they are from traveling.)

Damn, you really do look beat to hell n' back. Been traveling for a while? (pause) Heh, and all by yourself too? Don't you know it's dangerous to be movin' 'round these parts? They say the forests all north of here are infested with monsters—and not even the kind that make for a heroic story either! Shadow demons and the like, I've heard. Very powerful beasties.

Hm? Me? Oh, I'm able to take care of myself perfectly fine. I may not look like a rugged adventurer like you do my dear, but I have my own talents. (laughs, then pauses a moment)

Speaking of, what's your name, my dear?

...That sounds quite nice, actually. But you know, I'm a fan of nicknames, and I think everyone deserves something fitting of first impressions. So for you... (hums, pause almost a little dramatic) I'm thinkin' cutie, sweetheart, doll.... heh, I'm sorry, I'm only mostly joking.

(half-joking, half exasperated) Honest! I can't help it when I see such a pretty face! And yours? Yours is exceptionally sweet on the eyes.

Hm? My name? (chuckles) Well, my dear, I am Nobody. (pause) No, really, my name is literally Nobody.

...Why? (chuckles again, tone earnest and mischievous) Because, why not? It's as good a name as any, and it certainly makes for a fun night when someone starts shouting that 'nobody' owes them some coin. ‘Tis especially fun when they’ve emptied almost a dozen mugs of ale and don’t have the sense to realize how damn funny it sounds.

It's not gotten me out of any tabs, but a tiefling can hope!

(pauses, a moment of silence that allows the background noise to simmer. After at most a few seconds, Nobody hums attentively as they seem to notice the listener staring at them)

What's that look for? Interested in something about me? Go on, ask your question—I can tell there's one on your tongue, and I've heard my share of plenty.

...circus?

Oh! You thought I was part of a traveling circus? Well, I suppose I can't fault you for thinking something like that. My style of fashion is rather... colorful. Ornate. Or even, as some people like t'tell me: (tone of whimsical, amused mimicry, as if the sentence itself amuses them) "Completely obstinate and without any sense of subtlety."

(mournfully) 'Tis unfortunate for those who think so—(with dramatic woe) they must live such horribly drab and boring lives, after all, if a tiefling with a wonderful sense of taste in clothes and body art offends them so.

(tone turns energetic) But in either case, my dear, I am not at all affiliated with a traveling circus or other fantastical affair—though I wouldn't mind to be, should I cross paths with one. I am something of a bard, you might say. I don't do much of that singing business—the sound of my voice might break a glass—but I am quite adept at doing plenty of other things.

And people. (chuckles) Oh, don't look so shy, my dear—I'm only jesting, promise.

(shifting back to the topic of their skills) To be specific about some of the things I can do, I can recount tales of gallantry, tales of woe—I can read someone's fate through the usage of my deck of cards. Most people are very interested in that section of my abilities. (chuckles) There's nothing wrong in asking about it, my dear.

I'm told my skills of reading fates is everything from 'bone-chillingly accurate' to 'completely fraudulent', though feel free to make your own judgment on the matter—

In fact, why don't I read your cards? Hm? You've been eyeing them for a while after all, and I could see that sparkle of curiosity from a mile away. (pause) No, no charge at all, consider this reading entirely on the house! A discount, perhaps—simply for being in the right place at the right time. Maybe that is even fated to be as well...

First, let me shuffle these cards. (sounds of cards shuffling and sliding quietly fill more of the background noise while the two of them talk)

Tell me a little about yourself, my dear. What brings you all the way here across such dangerous lands. A quest perhaps? An adventure? A mystery of untold proportions?

(pause for a few seconds to let the listener 'answer')

Oh! Well, that's certainly more interesting than most folk that come through here. Most are just looking for mercenary work, but aren't willing to go farther than a mile out from town just where the forest gets thickest. But you... you've traveled right through there! Quite an achievement in itself, my dear adventurer. Be proud of that fact if nothing else.

Alright, now... (sounds of slight stretching as Nobody lays out small portions of the deck of cards) Since I am reading your fate, 'tis important that you have a chance to touch the cards to allow them to 'see' you, so to speak. To glimpse upon your soul. To outline your future. Just put each of these small piles on top of one another in any order that you like so that they make up a full deck again. (pause a moment) Yes... perfect! Now, cut the deck in half, half again for both... put them all back together...

Wonderful. I'll take it back from you now and—here is the most important part—focus on the cards as I draw them. Each one, pulled to answer the simple questions: From what did you come from? Where are you now? And where are you soon to be?

(pause, then the soft sound of a card clicking/flicking off the deck and onto the wooden table)

Past. (card sound again) Present. (card sound again) Future.

We will start from the past and work our way forward—like a river, time moves downstream, towards the expanse of the future that we all sail towards upon it. Behind us is our past that we move away from, the setting always in perfect detail, though we may not have been able to see it when we were sailing through it.

(sound of a card flipping over)

Oh...? Death, upright.

(tone is enigmatic and soft, a subtle but distinct shift from the overly energetic persona that Nobody had given just a few moments ago) It would appear that you have gone through some recent change in your life, my dear. A new worldview? New habit? This card doesn't mean that you've literally experienced death, but a change—and change can be scary, but it can also be good.

The warming of the winter months brings forth spring, but the frost at the end of fall helps to temper the ground so that new plant life can grow stronger. (tone softer) Whatever change you had experienced, you have endured it well, weathered it like a storm and come out a better person for it.

Now, for the next card: your present.

(sound of a card flipping over)

I see... the page of cups, upright! Not one that I see all that often, but I can't say that I'm surprised.

This card represents creative opportunities and possibilities available to you. You see how it looks? There's a young boy standing before a vast ocean and he holds a chalice in his hand, and within the chalice is a fish—the sea represents creativity, intuition, your emotions and how they play a roll in the greater world. By holding the chalice with the fish, the page himself represents all the opportunities within that ocean.

It...isn't often I pull this card for an adventurer. Typically their mind has a goal already, an end-state to their wandering. But you... (hums quizzically, as if genuinely confused and interested by this card) you're still searching for your adventure. Your quest. There are a multitude of options out there for you, my dear, but none of them have come calling for you just yet.

It makes me wonder what this final card will mean for your future.

(sound of a card flipping over)

...The ace of cups, upright.

On this card is a chalice, and water overflows from the chalice in several streams—the streams represent your senses, and the water itself represents your emotions—like from the previous card. In this situation, it represents new relationships and love that your emotions are searching for. You will find yourself meeting someone soon, very soon, that you will forge a bountiful relationship with. Perhaps... even a romantic one.

(pauses, then chuckles) I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just not every day that the cards are so outright with their meaning. They tend to be subtle in their readings, lacing together careful euphemisms and gentle direction. This... is a bit less so. I'd argue this is one of the least subtle sets of cards that I've had the chance to read before, and certainly one of the most intriguing.

You have come from a path of incredible change and have weathered it well, but you are at an impasse of a choice to make, and that choice may lead you into a relationship with someone, possibly romantic, that I would argue is fated to be. (chuckles again) It's as if the cards themselves are trying to say something to me, but... well, I try not to let my own opinion color someone else's reading.

But... (tone wandering, confident but gentle) I have to wonder if your choice was in coming to this tavern. Perhaps... even sitting at this chair? Choosing to speak to me when you could have easily turned around and left? Hm. Just some food for thought, my dear—

(sounds of cards shuffling as Nobody puts them all back together, then into a soft silken bag)

I find it rather fitting, however, because I had meant to ask you a question myself before I had even drawn the cards from the deck. And, with that, I am ever more interested with what your answer might be.

You see, I don't have a room here—I've already heard several people before you turned away with how full they are—but I do have a spot that I'm camping at. I've actually been staying out there the last couple nights; 'tis a bit odd for me since I am often predisposed to moving about, but something kept me from wandering on. I wonder...

If you don't mind, my dear, can I ask you to draw but one card more for me? The deck is shuffled, and fate itself is ready for the question to be asked:

What is our relationship meant to be? Passing strangers? Newfound friends? ...Romantic intrigue?

What does fate say I am meant to be for you?

(sound of a card flipping onto the wooden table)

The lovers, upright.

(pause, then chuckles honestly, somewhere between disbelief and a moment of embarrassment)

Well, I'll just let you decide what that card means to you right now.

In the meantime, I offer you some respite at my camp area—there's a few other travelers staying there tonight, so you wouldn't be entirely alone with me if that is a worry. If you have a bedroll, then it is a vaguely comfortable place to lay your head down for the evening, and certainly safe from any bandits or dark demons of the night... unless you count good-looking tieflings. (chuckles) It won't cost you a single coin either, and I am full of interesting stories to regale you with—I am a bard, after all.

So my dear adventurer, given what you've heard of both the cards and myself, what do you say?

(The audio gently fades out, the listener's answer ambiguous and unknown)

#dnd #script #asmr script #asmr scripts #nobody the tiefling #catch me thinkin about writing a fic version of this #tiefling

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rae-gar-targaryen · 3 years

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loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oliver here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?" He pressed.

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think of that one?”

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

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

Um, wow.

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

All you could do was nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

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

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Cheeky.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So she knew who you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a hard no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

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

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

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

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

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

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

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

What the fuck.

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

That was you, ever the professional.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

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

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

“Boy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel chuckled a little at that.

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Angelito, everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath was shuddering now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

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

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come on then, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he would, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagging:

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

#angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes angst #angel reyes smut #angel reyes #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc fic #my writing #rachel writes #holy shittttt this boy is long #it just got away from me #sorry #loved you once

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avewritesmr · 3 years

Note

Stray kids reaction to y/k having tattoo sleeves? 🙏🏻 I’ve seen reactions where they specified a couple tattoos but I wanna know what their reaction would be with someone that has sleeves. Or wants to get more tattoos (; also could some of the settings be like on a date? Like during the stage where they’re getting to know y/k?) thnx 💓

Reaction to boyfriend who has a tattoo sleeve

A/N: So I only did three members (picked at random) to avoid this getting repetitive, I think I strayed a little off topic, not sure, but please let me know what you think of it anonie, I loved writing it, and I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write it, all the love and in hopes of having more time to write now that college application and decision time is coming to a wrap 💖

Seo Changbin (Implied NSFW Content)

y/n and Changbin meet on the coldest day of winter, it’s literally freezing and the entire city is basically iced over.

y/n is the new producer at JYP and it just so happens that Changbin is asked to work with y/n on a project.

At first Changbin is really skeptical, y/n is this quiet, kind of scary looking person and he communicates through glaring and frowning instead of words.

Then Changbin starts to slowly get to know him and things change, he finds out that y/n isn’t rude or scary and they get pretty close throughout the time they are working on the project.

When they are no longer work colleagues and the project is complete, Changbin works up the courage to ask y/n out on a date.

They don’t officially date or anything for a while, they go out together on a couple dates and hang out, they spend lots of time together and it is very obvious they are both basically in love with each other.

y/n doesn’t try to hide his tattoos or anything, Changbin’s seen a few of them, the one on the side of his neck and the ones on his wrists and knuckles but he’s never seen the whole thing.

Then one day they’re sitting in Changbin’s studio and somehow y/n spills an entire thing of iced coffee on himself and he’s only wearing a long sleeved shirt.

Changbin has a spare shirt from dance practice so he goes to grab it and in the meantime y/n pulls his dirty shirt off.

Changbin finds the shirt in a drawer and turns around to give it to y/n and he just freezes.

y/n doesn’t even notice him staring, he takes the shirt offered to him and slips it on going back to whatever he was doing before while poor Changbin stares on in shocked silence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You have so many tattoos.” Changbin mutters quietly.

y/n smiles slightly, “You don’t like them?”Changbin shakes his head quickly, he loves them, if he had wanted to kiss y/n before now he wants to jump the other man’s bones, he thinks they are hot and such a turn on.

y/n seems to understand as much and he goes out of his way after that to put them on display even though it’s still freezing outside.

Changbin isn’t complaining (at first), after a while he just finds himself staring at y/n’s tattoos, they aren’t even officially dating so he can’t just grab y/n’s arms and trace over the tattoos or ask the older to do anything to him.The whole thing leads to a lot of frustration on Changbin’s end and a lot of amusement on y/n’s.

“You know you can look at my tattoos if you want, you don’t need to look away every time I look in your general direction.”Changbin’s cheeks flare read but he hesitantly moves to sit closer to y/n and runs the tips of his fingers across one of the many tattoos.

“They’re so hot.” Changbin slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it, y/n on the other hand finds this hilarious.

“Are they?” He is so close to Changbins face and his arm has moved to wrap around Changbin’s waist.Changbin remembers every thought he’s ever had about y/n’s hands and the tattoos and what he wants the older to do to him and he can see all the tattoos so close that it makes everything so much worse.

y/n’s smirk is enough to convince him to move towards the older and pull the other’s arm around his waist, he has no idea where the confidence comes from but at this point he has nothing to lose and he’s been fantasizing for way too long anyways.

Things end up so much better than he had every dreamed of and he has to concede that tattoos are the hottest thing ever, especially when they’re y/n’s and they stand out on white knuckles that hold Changbin’s hips down.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin loves tattoos, he thinks they're cool and the moment JYP lets him get a tattoo (I am not sure if he already has a tattoo tbh) he is getting a tattoo because tattoos are just so cool.

So why doesn't Hyunjin know that his boyfriend (of like 4 months) has enough tattoos to cover 90% of the skin on his right arm? Simple, answer.

y/n is an idol, he isn't aloud to show his tattoos on national television, and since a lot of his initial interactions with

Hyunjin had been backstage at music shows...

music shows = no tattoos being shown.

So let's go back to the beginning to get a clear picture

Hyunjin and y/n first meet at a music show backstage, Hyunjin has heard of y/n but he hasn't really seen pictures of the other that often and now he is face to face with probably the most attractive person he has met in a long time.

y/n is leaning against a wall in the hallway outside the bathroom in a beautifully tailored suit and Hyunjin, who is walking out of the bathroom, is completely enamored by this man that he might know the name of but can't be sure.

person walks past Hyunjin and y/n shoves his phone into his pocket talking happily to said person before they disappear down the hallway.

Detective Hyunjin mode = activated.

His detective work involves a quick google search to identify what group y/n is in and confirm his name, turns out he was right about the name and so he spends the next 2 hours of waiting before he has to preform just scrolling through pictures and tweets about y/n.

He resolves that day that he needs to talk to the other no matter what it takes, he just needs y/n's number.

His first plan is to recruit Jisung and Jeongin's help because they tend to find talking to new people easier and maybe he won't be as awkward if he talks to y/n with other people present.

This plan falls through very quickly because instead of helping all Jeongin and Jisung do is laugh at him.

He turns to his second (and last) plan.

Lee Minho is 2 months older than y/n, so maybe by some stroke of luck Minho knows y/n, or someone in his group, and Hyunjin can maybe convince Minho to help him start a conversation with the other.

Hyunjin is in luck, not only is Minho more empathetic about his hardships than Jisung and Jeongin but he just so happens to know y/n well enough to be able to walk up to him and strike up conversation.

Hyunjin follows Minho with gradually decreasing confidence. Sure he is going to get the chance to talk to y/n, which is what he wanted, but what the hell is he going to say?

Should he just ask for the others number?

Just introduce himself and maybe y/n will ask for his number? Maybe he can just turn around now and run away before this gets particularly embarrassing for him?

Maybe the floor underneath him will open up and swallow him whole because good lord y/n just smiled in his general direction and why are there so many people in this area at this specific time?

Turns out y/n wasn't smiling specifically at him, he was smiling more at Minho.

"This is Hyunjin, he wanted to tag along."

"Hey, I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you." Maybe his smile will kill Hyunjin before he remembers how to talk.

"uhh-hh, yes I know, I- uh, Hyunjin." God why was that so awkward someone save him, where did Minho walk off to? who is that? why did he take Minho away from him?

"Are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, I am good." god he needed salvation right now.Basically, Hyunjin is awkward and nervous and he feels like the first meeting is a complete disaster and y/n will never talk to him again.

Somehow though y/n decided he isn't pitiful enough to ignore and walk away from, it takes a bit of prodding and joking on y/n's part for Hyunjin to relax a little and they hold a decent conversation. When Minho informs Hyunjin they have to head back y/n is typing his number into Hyunjin's phone and urging him to send a text whenever.

y/n and Hyunjin talk often after that, they meet again just a little over a week later backstage at a music show again and decided that they should take the risk and start dating.

They're moving a little quickly true, but, they can learn more about each other as time goes on.

Neither one of them is necessarily free at any one point in time, they see each other at a few events but their dating is limited to talking over the phone and basically texting all the time.

And then the day comes.

Hyunjin has the day off and y/n has wrapped up a photo shoot, the timing is perfect, the managers are okay with it and Hyunjin is buzzing with excitement because it's been almost 4 months and he is going to go to his boyfriend now.

They decide to meet at y/n's empty dorm just to be in each others presence.

So Hyunjin is standing outside the dorm door waiting for y/n to let him in and he is just shaking with happiness.

So when y/n opens the door with his hair a little messy and no make up on, Hyunjin's first instinct is to launch himself at the other and hug him as tightly as he can.

They might not have been able to see each other these last four months but that doesn't mean Hyunjin hasn't learned enough about the other to love him.

y/n only laughs and pulls him into the dorm hugging back with a soft smile on his face.

Hyunjin is so busy hugging y/n that he doesn't see the tattoos covering y/n's right arm.

He doesn't see them in fact until after he's been ushered into y/n's room and is about to head towards the cat laying under the window.

He turns around to ask y/n about the cat's name and then freezes because holy mother of all beings is that a tattoo sleeve?

"Yeah, is it a problem?"

"A problem? god no!" Hyunjin moves closer to war his fingers around y/n's arm and raise it so he can inspect the intricate designs.

"They look so cool, this just makes me want a tattoo even more." y/n laughs, "I can take you to get one." Hyunjin looks up with starry eyes.

"Management would kill, but I don't really care anymore."

"Maybe you should get it okayed before you do anything?"

"If they try to kill me you'll come riding in on a motorbike and wearing a leather jacket and save me." Hyunjin replies with a serious face.

y/n laughs, "That is just a stereotype, my mom would kill me if I got on a motorbike."So what did Hyunjin learn today?

He definitely wants a tattoo and wouldn't mind getting yelled at by management for getting one behind their back. He wants y/n to go with him because this man is an expert and if anyone (y/n included) disagrees then Hyunjin will be inclined to fight them.

y/n is 100% a mama's boy and Hyunjin is living for it (Another one of his life sources at this point in time is y/n's tattooed arm wrapped around his waist but he doesn't want to discuss those emotions just yet).

Yang Jeongin (I.N)

So y/n’s a barista at a cafe and that is how Jeongin meets him first, it is late summer, the uniform for the cafe workers is a button down white shirt so even though it is 35 degrees (Celsius) out Jeongin never sees y/n in anything but his work uniform which is a long sleeve button down white shirt.

After 2 months of (not really) subtle crushing Jeongin asks y/n for his phone number, they chat for a few days and then go on their first date in early October.

The date is a sweet, cliche outing, Jeongin is a blushing mess 90% of the time and y/n treats him with so much care. Dates aren’t that frequent after the first one but just before winter Jeongin and y/n make it official.

At this point it is so cold that there is never a moment for Jeongin to see y/n without a coat, hoodie or long sleeved shirt, so he lives a life of blissful ignorance for almost a month.

And then one day he is sitting at the counter in the cafe, y/n is just finishing his shift and Jeongin is waiting for him.

The manager walks by and tells y/n to clean up before he hands over to the next person and so y/n moves to the sink and rolls up his sleeves.

Jeongin isn’t really paying attention, he’s a little focused on his phone, but then he looks up.

😯 = Yang Jeongin when he saw y/n’s tattoos.

“Your face literally just derailed.”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Well you didn’t really ever get a chance to see them.” Silence.

“I am sorry I probably should have told you before this.”Jeongin doesn’t respond to that, he doesn’t know how to, so he sits in silence contemplating the situation, while y/n finishes up. When they walk out of the cafe it is in strained silence, Jeongin doesn’t like it at all.

“Can I see them?”

“Sure, let’s go sit somewhere.”They end up on a park bench, y/n with his sleeves rolled up and Jeongin carefully tracing the ink covering y/n’s arm his eyes widened in awe.

“What’s the meaning behind thisone?”

“Nothing really, I got it because I thought it looked nice.”Jeongin laughs lightly and goes back to studying the tattoos on y/n’s arm, now that he is over the initial shock of discovering the tattoos he is enraptured by them.

He’ll probably stare at them whenever y/n wears something short sleeved, or rolls up his sleeves.

He genuinely thinks they are really cool and thinks his boyfriend is like a million times cooler with them.

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Text

NSFW 18+ The Assistant— AU Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, degrading, cursing, punishment, dom levi, sub reader, bondage, bdsm, some angst, toxic relationship, spanking, cheating, etc.

Words: 3, 673

Check out my other works here

A/N: Me and my irl moot @idfkwtfgof came up with this idea so I decided to write it out. Enjoy this fifty shades of gray moment. I’ve been working on this for over a month 🙃 I’m sorry it took me forever.

Tags: @idfkwtfgof @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie

You take a deep breath as you approached the double doors in front of you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage. The silent hallways seemed to be echoing the thumps. Anyone in your position would be nervous too if they had to meet with the CEO of the Ackerman Industries. He was not one to enjoy much company nor request it. His gaze alone could intimidate the strongest of people and you are no different.

Fist resting on the wooden door in front of you, you hesitate, but close your eyes and knock anyway. You did not hear a response as you patiently wait. Instead, the door swings open to be met with the CEO himself, Levi Ackerman. Not a word was spoken, but he ushered you inside his huge office.

Scurrying, you slightly jump as you heard the huge door slam. You are in Levi’s office. Only businessmen and women are allowed in here. You feel not even worthy to be stepping on the same floor these successful people walk on. It could also be the fact that the office seemed spotless. For someone as busy as the CEO, he sure did know how to make a stack of papers seem neat in a stack.

“Sit.” Levi instructed as he strolled over to his desk chair and doing the said action. You looked around the room. Behind Levi is a wall of windows to overlook the city of New York. His desk his a beautiful dark brown that was so clean that you could see your reflection. Along with seeing your reflection, you can see —and feel— Levi starring at you. Meeting his silver orbs, you gulp.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Y/N?” Levi questioned, his tone remaining calm as always. Somehow, this intimidated you even more.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You admit. In all honesty, you are not sure why Levi called you into his office. He waited until almost everyone has gone home for the evening to set up this meeting. You have felt nauseous all day about it. Receiving an email from the CEO was enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, but to have a meeting — alone — with him is enough to make one soil themselves.

“I want to offer you a promotion,” Levi explained, his gaze hardening. “That is, if you want it?”

This is way better news than you expected. Levi has employees for a reason. He always calls the shots since it is his million dollar company, but why get his hands dirty when he can pay people to do it for him? Since no one is allowed in his office without special permission, this seemed a bit off.

“What does the job intel?”

“Well, my company is expanding even larger than anticipated this year. I need a personal assistant. Examining the work you have put in over the years, I decided you are cut out for the job. What do you say?”

You take a moment to contemplate his words. The offer is amazing and would definitely look great on your resume, but working so close to the CEO of the company is quite intimidating. Any bad habits you have developed better end swiftly or else it’s your job on the line. Levi is not afraid to terminate anyone not fit for the job.

“I’ll take it.” You smile, the words flowing out before you could even think any further.

“You start tomorrow. I expect you in my office 8am sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Standing up, you straighten out your black pencil skirt and head your way towards the door. Levi’s eyes did not once leave your figure. The way you naturally sway your hips as you walk and the way the skirt hugged your hips just right. His eyes are enjoying the desires most men have yet when you turned to look over your shoulder, his eyes where focused on his paperwork.

You went home that night, excited to tell your significant other about your promotion. He did not even blink an eye in your direction. Instead, he is pissed that you are home later than normal.

“Babe—“

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.

“I-I was called into the CEO’s office. I got a promotion!” You stammered, nervous under your boyfriend’s glare. He always made you feel small and his anger tends to send you over the edge. This is one of those many times.

“Why would he have you in there this late? Do you think I’m really that fucking stupid?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Babe, I’m being serious. I would never lie to you.” You argued.

“And how do I know that?” He countered. “How am I certain that you aren’t cheating on me? Or even hurt? Are your damn thumbs broken, Y/N? Can’t keep me updated ‘bout what’s going on? I was worried sick about you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll do better.”

Your boyfriend walked over to you, embracing your body into a tight hug. You had so much more to say, but to prevent any further escalation of an argument, you apologized and kept your mouth shut.

The next morning arrived. You woke up extra early to have time to do your hair and makeup, dressed in your nicest attire, and wear the most expensive of jewelry. Since you are going to be around the CEO for now on, you cannot show up to work appearing sluggish. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

“Dressed quite nicely, huh?” He spoke, meeting your eyes through the mirror. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“I have to be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his orbs tracing your figure. He hated when you showed confidence. It killed him inside and knowing that other men saw your beauty as well made his blood boil. He just has to ruin it.

“For the circus? Your makeup looks awful and your hair is tremendous.” He scoffed.

You bit your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you prevented them from falling. You refuse to let him ruin your confidence. You are a strong woman and his insecurities shouldn’t be placed upon you. It is not your baggage to carry.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror. You feel your confidence crumble beneath you, but you remain strong. Turning around, you brush past him as you stroll out of the bathroom. You ignored him calling your name and demanding you to return. All he could do is watch as you left without even saying goodbye.

You arrived to the business earlier than expected. You have checked your hair and makeup more than once in the car review mirror. You are not necessarily even wanting Levi’s approval, — though he is quite handsome — you just want to look presentable. He is your boss, after all. He is not afraid to fire anyone on the spot. You are no exception.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you knock on Levi’s office door. You hear his approval to come inside and welcome yourself inside. You were not even receive a glance as you closed the door behind you. Levi’s gray orbs never left his monitor screen. You gulp nervously as you proceed towards his desk.

“I stopped to get some coffee. I brought you a tea,” you lay his cup on his desk, “just how you like it.”

He nods, still typing away. This did not help your anxiety at all. Is he regretting his decision making you his assistant? Are you disturbing him? Is he contemplating firing you? Your stomach turned at the thought.

The sound of the printer disturbed your nuisance thoughts. Levi grabbed the piece of paper and placed it on top of a neat stack. He stands up, finally looking at you.

“I have a meeting to attend to in an hour. I need these documents assorted in alphabetical order before then.”

Your eyes fall to the tall stack of papers. You definitely need more than an hour to get through them all. By Levi’s facial expression, you knew he was serious. Levi always looked serious.

“Yes, sir,” you grab the stack and meet his a gaze again, “I’ll get it done swiftly.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. Sit over there.” He orders, glancing at the couches and coffee table in the middle of his office. Maybe it is just your nerves, but his workspace seems bigger than remembered. This did not help your anxiety.

You began getting to work. You thought you are doing well on time, but time seemed to have passed you by. Levi is now towering over you, his unsatisfied silver orbs glaring down at you. You hesitate, but force yourself to meet them.

“Thought you said you would have this done?” Levi recalls.

“I-I’m really sorry, s-sir.” You stammered, expecting the worse.

“Sorry doesn’t sort the papers, Y/N.” He scolds, his silver eyes only being shown through slits.

“I—“

“We will discuss this after my meeting. Until then, I want my office spotless.” Levi continues, cutting you off. He begins walking towards the door and pauses once he reaches for the handle. “Oh and Y/N?”

You look up, meeting the CEO’s annoyed orbs. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re on strike one.” Levi warns. You did not even have a chance to ask questions as his office door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone to sulk in your thoughts.

You tidied up Levi’s office like he requested of you. Every paper went into its appropriate home, cushions are straightened out, rug is vacuumed, and you are currently dusting. This man is a clean freak by nature so there was not much to do. Still, your nerves were pulsating. This is only day one and you are not on Levi’s good side. You are becoming worrisome as your job is now potentially on the line.

The door opening made you jump. You can feel Levi’s silver orbs on you as you dust his bookshelf. He did not disturb you, though, as he proceeded towards his desk and went to work like nothing happened. Curiosity is begging you to speak, but you remain silent and complete your task.

You gather the cleaning supplies and place them back into the small closet. Returning on the guest side of Levi’s desk, he does not even look up from his monitor.

“I’m finished cleaning, sir.”

Levi did not say anything. Instead, he stood up and went to the window. His fingers grazed along the exterior which collected dust on the tips. He studied it for a moment. Your heart stopped as your breath hitched. You did not mean to forget the windows, but they look so clean already. They truly do not need much more cleaning.

“Seems like you missed a spot.” He remarks, turning to face you.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I thought—“

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back to dusting. Now.” He demands, cleaning the dust off of his fingers with his handkerchief.

“Yes, sir.” You reply, gathering the cleaning supplies once again. You sprayed the windows and clean every inch of them until lunch time. Levi was sure to inspect your work before releasing you to go get something to eat.

“You’re dismissed.” He finally speaks. You are quick to collect your belongings leave his office. You stroll the long hallway to the elevator. You are finally alone with your thoughts and honestly, they were overwhelming. This job is very nerve racking and it’s only your first day. You are not making the best of impressions on your boss.

Digging in your purse, you check your cellphone. You have several missed calls and texts from your significant other. A pit in your stomach began to drown your appetite. You know this is going to cause a major fight between you two. A fight you did not want to participate in.

Reluctantly, you call your boyfriend back. He picks up on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed, sending chills down your spine. The elevator doors open and you head towards the cafeteria.

“Working. I can’t be on my phone while I’m—“

“So work is more important than me?” He interrupts.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.” You argued, picking up a bag of chips and a drink from the dispensers before checking out.

“Then answer my damn calls, Y/N!”

“I can’t when I’m at work!” You exclaimed. You hand the cashier money before mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ She gave you a worried look, but you disregarded it. This is not the first time that have heard a heated conversation between you and your boyfriend.

You go find an empty table to eat by yourself. The bickering between your boyfriend did not end on a good note as the other line went dead. You slammed your phone back into your purse and forced yourself to eat your chips. You did not even want them. Your relationship is falling through the cracks, you are failing at your job, and you are on the verge of losing what is left of your sanity.

Time really slipped away while you fumed in anger because you are now late to returning to Levi’s office. Tears prickled in your eyes. This is not good at all. Levi is going to be furious. Even possibly firing you.

You raced to his office. You did not even take the elevator as it will take far too long to get to his office. You are panting by the time you arrive and sweat droplets formed at the top of your forehead. Your hands began to shake as your hand rested on the handle. You need to go in there, but your body did not want to move. Your boyfriend is already pissed. You did not want to deal with your furious boss.

Sighing, you forced yourself to go inside. “I am so sorry.” You blurt out as you enter inside. Levi is giving you a disapproving look.

“Take a seat, Y/N. We need to have a talk.”

Following your boss’ orders, you sit in the chair parallel to his. You begin to tremble as you expect the worse. Levi’s glare does not help you feel any less uneasy either. His silver orbs are staring deep into your soul and making you feel small.

“You know you’re on strike three.” Levi begins. You gulp.

“I know, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind for me.” You sigh, trying to remain brave. Levi can see right through it, though. His gaze hardens and he makes his way around to your side of the desk. He folds his arms but does not remove his gaze from you once.

“What punishment do you think you deserve?” Levi ask, hoping you have the same answer in mind as him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll take anything. It’s what I deserve.” You admit, a flustered feeling coming across you. Levi studied your features, clicking his tongue.

“Bend over the desk.”

“What?” You whispered, not sure if you heard your boss correctly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His intimidating glare pierced through you.

“Talking to that lame ass boyfriend of yours must have you goin deaf. I said bend over my desk.” Levi instructs, letting go of your chin once you catch his drift. You do as your told, bending over his desk. You are uncertain what he is planning to do, but the removal of your skirt gave you a pretty good idea. Your cheeks felt hot as your bare ass is now exposed to Levi’s viewing.

“Lace panties, huh? You planned on being put in this position later?” Levi chuckles, his digits playing with the strap of your thong. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A hard smack to your bare ass caused you to release a moan.

“I asked you a question. It’s only polite to answer, brat.”

“Yes. It was for my boyfriend.” You confess in embarrassment for more reasons than one.

“Oh, I see. Your toxic little relationship is in need of fixing, but the only thing you have to offer is your pretty little pussy.” Levi analyzes, rubbing his hand on your ass before delivering another slap. You wince in pain, but you mentally screamed for more. You wanted Levi to continue spanking you.

“That’s not it, sir.” You mumbled. His hand landed down on your sore ass once more while the other hand finds refuge in your hair. He pulls it, tightly, bending your head back.

“What really gets me is this mouth of yours. I suggest you use it to tell the truth before I stuff it.” Levi growls lowly in your ear, letting go of your hair to return behind you.

Another slap was delivered. Little melodies of moans escaped your lips that you attempted to conceal. Levi did not comment on it as he proceed with the punishment. Your cunt dripped with your slick. It is begging to be touched, fucked, anything Levi desires really.

A few slaps and a very red ass later, Levi’s digits founder their way inside your soaked cunt. “Someone enjoyed themselves, hm?” He teased, curling his fingers in you. You shuffle a bit, enjoying the sensation he is giving you. The removal of his fingers made you whine in a needy tone.

“I did, Levi. Please fuck me.” You cry, wanting his cock already. He chuckled at your begging, his hand rubbing your red ass then hitting it again.

“On your knees. Now.” Levi demands. You happily oblige before him. He pats your head in approval. “Good girl. You do know how to listen.”

Levi begins unbuckling his black belt. You are practically foaming at the mouth as he slides the leather out of each loop. He sets it on the desk before proceeding to unbuckle his pants, releasing his hard cock for you to pleasure. Your eyes light up at the sight. The tip of his erection is at your lips, ready for you to move forward. Your tongue teases his sensitive head before you let each inch slide in-and-out of your saliva filled mouth.

“Yeah, like that, baby.” Levi praises as you deep throat his length. You choke some, but continue taking all of his cock. Your tongue spends time playing with the veins in his cock while his head relaxes in your throat.

“The cock hungry slut having a hard time deep throating all my cock?” Levi mocks as you pull it out to catch your breath. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock together as your lust filled orbs met his.

“Not a chance.” You grin, placing his dick back in your mouth. Levi groans in delight as you repeat the same patterns as before. His cock twitches inside your mouth as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down your throat. You gladly swallow it as his cock becomes overwhelmed, releasing his semen onto your tongue. Not a drop was spilled as you milked his cock for all he had to offer.

Pulling away, Levi praises you again. “Such a good little slut you are. Time we give your pussy some attention, huh?”

“Yes, please, sir.” You beg, eagerly. He taps his desk.

“Bend over my desk.” He commands. Following orders, you bend over his desk like before. You arched your back so your ass and pussy is more accessible for Levi. He spreads your legs out more so your weeping cunt is fully exposed. The cold air sent chills down your spine. Levi is already hard again as he stares at your pussy.

Aligning himself, the tip of his cock enters your dripping hole, sliding in perfectly. You moan as he thrust a rough rhythm. His hips slap against your ass and his hands cling onto your hips. You tightly hang onto his desk as he pick up the pace. You sob out pleas for more.

“Better quiet down. Don’t want your coworkers hearing me fuck you like the whore you are now do we?”

You did not even care. You wanted Levi and you wanted him bad. Groans and profanities filled the room from you two as Levi hits all the right spots. You babble incoherent sentences as you start to climax again on Levi’s girth. Your walls clenched on his size and released when he re-enters himself. This does not stop Levi, though, as he chases after his own high.

“Already cumming again, slut?” Levi teases as he is slowly losing himself inside you. He hit your ass again while his dick twitches. “Ask permission next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You cry out, not wanting him to stop. He pulls on your hair again, bending down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that you have to hide it from your boyfriend.”

“Please Levi.” You beg, not even caring anymore. You wanted Levi. You have wanted him for a long time and the feeling is mutual on his end. That is why he hired you, after all.

Levi’s cock could not withstand the pressure anymore. Releasing into the depths of your cunt, he huffs profanities as every drop enters inside of you. You gladly take it as you breathe heavily. He finally pulls out, leaving you a cum filled mess. Giving your ass a gentle tap so you will get up.

“You are dismissed for the day.” Levi grumbled as he situated himself and you did the same. You straightened out your outfit and fixed your hair. You will fix your makeup in the restroom. You proceeded to exit your boss’ office when he called out to you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You purred, looking over your shoulder.

“Let your boyfriend know you’re my slut now.”

©bakugosbratx

#bratx request #bratx writes #levi ackerman #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #daddy ackerman #snk levi #snk anime #aot smut #aot x reader #aot requests #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x fem!reader #attack on titan #aot imagines

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

Looking at the wrong one - Jesper Fahey

Request: yes! “Firstly, I just want to say I really love your writing! I’ve had this idea for a while and wanting to find someone to write it because I love it so much. So basically reader has feelings for Kaz but he’s obviously in love with Inej so she confides in Jesper who comforts her and she eventually realizes that he’s been the one for her the whole time. I hope you can write it but if you can’t that’s totally fine too!!” Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader Summary: Jesper is the first person you go to when you need advice about something - or rather, someone. It takes you a while to realise you’ve been sneaking glances at the wrong person. Warnings: none Word count: 2.7K A/N: I loved this request sm!! been busy busy busy lately so sorry if your request is taking a while for me to write, finish and post! enjoy reading :)

You glance over at Kaz while he’s explaining the blueprints laid out in front of everyone. You’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, you really are, but it’s hard. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when Kaz is the one who’s talking.

There’s no denying it, Kaz looks good. For weeks you tried to push your feelings away, but soon what started as a little crush developed into something more. And now you can barely keep your eyes off of him.

There’s just something about his mysterious aura. The dark hair, sharp jaw, how he never seems to smile - though you did catch him smile once when he thought no one was looking. There’s so much you don’t know about him, and you’re dying to find out.

Apparently, you’ve been staring at Kaz for a little too long, because you feel someone nudging your shoulder, and turn to face them.

‘You know.’ mutters Jesper to you from the corner of his mouth. ‘If you want to talk about it, or just need to rant and have someone listen to you, I’m always here. I’ve heard I’m excellent company.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ you say. ‘Do you think we can pull this job of?’

You hoped Jesper wouldn’t ask about Kaz again, and he senses your need to change the subject.

‘We better.’ he says. ‘We can score big with this one.’

Jesper starts talking about what he’s going to do once the job is done, but your eyes are already shifting back to Kaz. You can’t help but to feel a knot in your chest as you see him looking at Inej.

While you’re always looking at Kaz, you catch him looking at Inej.

Inej is one of your closest friends, and you would die for her. Hell, you almost did die for her a couple of months ago. Still, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous of her. Of the way Kaz looked at her.

Whenever Kaz was looking at Inej and you caught him, it didn’t take long for you to fall down a rabbit hole of insecure and jealous thoughts.

You’d think of everything Inej can do that you cannot do. She has a gifts for knives, you know your way around guns, not knives. When she’s sneaking around, she almost becomes one with the shadows, you couldn’t soundlessly sneak up to someone even if you tried.

You always concluded Inej was better than you on more than one aspect. You figured she would be a better match for Kaz than you could ever be. You were ashamed of being so jealous of your friend when all Kaz did was look at her. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get rid of the jealousy.

After Kaz has rolled up the blueprints and everyone went over the plan one last time, you say your goodnights and all head back to your own rooms. You’re barely aware of your movements as your legs carry you to your room. When you move to open the door to your room, a familiar whistle makes you look up.

‘The offer for some company still stands.’ says Jesper, and he winks at you before entering his own room, next to yours in the hallway.

While Jesper didn’t have Kaz’ gift for coming up with plans, he wasn’t stupid. He had caught you looking at Kaz a couple of times, then decided to speak up. As soon as the opportunity presented himself, he’d taken you apart from the others and confronted you about your staring.

You were shocked, asking him how he could have possible figured it out. Jesper merely raised his eyebrows and told you you’re always looking at Kaz. You hadn’t realised you looked at Kaz so many times. Ever since, Jesper has offered a listening ear. And though you appreciated it, you weren’t ready to talk about your feelings just yet.

As you’re taking your boots off, your mind wanders to Kaz again. And the way he looked at Inej. He didn’t show his feelings that often, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his eyes were when he looked at Inej. It drove you crazy, and you didn’t like that it did. You felt like you were going to explode if you kept pushing these feelings down any longer. Maybe having someone listen to you didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

Not bothering to put your boots back on, you get up and leave your room. You take a few steps to get in front of Jesper’s door. Though it’s not that late and he’s probably still awake, you hesitate. What if he just wanted to be a good friend, but wasn’t actually interested in your thoughts on Kaz?

You sigh and shake your head, clearing your mind. You then raise your hand and knock on the door. After a few seconds it opens, revealing Jesper. He’s taken off his coat and boots, leaving him in just a shirt and a pair of trousers. He smiles when he sees you.

‘I see you do want my company?’ he says. ‘Only if you don’t mind.’ you say. ‘Of course not.’ he says, stepping aside so you can enter his room.

You take a seat in the only chair in the room as Jesper closes the door. He walks over to his bed and sits down as you tuck your feet under your legs, getting comfortable.

‘So.’ says Jesper. ‘Am I problem solving or listening?’

You frown at his words. ‘What does that mean?’ you ask him.

‘Well, it’s the easiest way to prevent a fight.’ explains Jesper. ‘If I’m problem solving, I’ll give you advice and come up with solutions. If I’m listening, I’m just going to shut up and, well, listen. So, am I problem solving or listening?’

‘Listening, I guess.’ you say.

‘Alright.’ says Jesper, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs in front of him. He gestures with his hand to you. ‘Let it all out then, love.’

You don’t know where to begin. Jesper is patient as you’re searching for the words. Without realising, you start to play with your fingers, a habit of yours which you do when you’re thinking or anxious.

‘It starts... Well, when I became a member of the Dregs, I guess. I was young, but Kaz was around my age. We became close friends. That is, as far as being close friends with Kaz goes. I trusted him, he trusted me. We spent months working our way up to the top and along the way you tagged along, and Inej, Nina, Matthias and Wylan. I care about all of you, but there’s just something different about Kaz.’ you tell him.

Jesper looks at you but doesn’t say anything. He’s just listening, exactly like he said he would.

‘It started off as an innocent crush. Saints, I sound like some school girl. Anyway, somewhere along the way that little crush developed into something more. And now I can’t stop looking at him or thinking about him. And now that I’ve said this out loud, I realise you are the first person I’ve talked to about this.’

You’re silent for a while as you look at Jesper. You were afraid he’d laugh at you, but he’s just sitting on his bed, looking at you.

‘I can tell there’s still something else on your mind.’ he simply says. You let out a sigh and nod, and start talking again.

‘He’s always looking at Inej. Whenever I look at him, he’s looking at Inej. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but I cannot pretend it doesn't make me a little jealous. The first time I saw him looking at Inej, I wished he looked at me like that. I know this sounds stupid, but I really can’t help it. And once I catch him looking at her, I start to think about how I’m not worth it.’ you say.

Now Jesper frowns. ‘But you’re worth it.’ he says. You chuckle softly and shake your head.

‘She’s everything I’m not. She’s pretty, she’s very skilled with her knives, she can sneak up to anyone without being seen or heard. She knows the secrets of everyone in the Barrel. She could take down the Merchant council all on her own if she wanted to. I can’t do that.’ you say.

‘I know I said I was listening, but can I just offer you one piece of advice?’ asks Jesper. You nod. ‘You say you notice the way Kaz looks at Inej, I have noticed that as well. He looks at her the way you look at him. Don’t you think you should try to admit to yourself that he’s only going to be looking at her, and not you?’

‘Deep down I know that.’ you say softly. ‘But I can’t fully wrap my head around that. Not just yet, at least.’

‘Alright.’ says Jesper. ‘Maybe not now, but if you give it time, maybe it’ll hurt less.’

You look at him and smile as you get up. ‘Thank you Jesper.’ you say. ‘This is nice. Having someone listen to you.’

Jesper gets up as well as you walk toward the door. ‘The door’s always open to you.’ says Jesper as he opens the door for you. ‘You can always swing by.’

‘Thanks.’ you say as you step out onto the hallway. ‘Goodnight, Jes.’ ‘Night, Y/N.’ he says as you walk the few steps to the door of your room.

After that conversation, your nightly visits to Jesper’s room increase. Sometimes he’s problem solving, sometimes he’s listening, and sometimes you just sit in silence when all you want is some company.

There’s even one night in which you actually fell asleep when you were sitting on his bed, and when you woke up the next morning, you found Jesper sleeping on the floor while using his coat as a blanket. Your heart melted a little, but you decided not to speak up as you snuck out of his room.

Weeks pass, and slowly your visits turn from seeking advice about Kaz to enjoying a conversation with Jesper. He makes you laugh as he tells you stories about how he used to drive his parents crazy doing god knows what at their farm. In return, you tell him about the life you lived before you came to Ketterdam.

Another couple of visits later, and you’ve almost completely forgotten that you originally started visiting Jesper to talk about Kaz. You notice you’ve stopped sneaking glances at Kaz. You’re not even jealous when you catch him looking at Inej again.

Instead, your attention is on Jesper. More than once, he caught your eye and sent a wink you way, making you smile and turn away.

Your nightly visits increase even more, and you can be found in Jesper’s room almost every night, laughing at his jokes.

After a particularly long night that involved keeping tabs on the security of one of the banks for hours, you find yourself in front of Jesper’s room again. Kaz had sent you out on the job, and you had hoped Jesper would be in his room when you got back.

But after knocking three times, he still hasn’t opened the door. You whistle a familiar tune, hoping he’d answer the door. When he doesn’t, you kick over a tiny tin can that sits on the floor next to the door.

‘So predictable.’ you murmur as you bend down to pick up the key that was underneath it. Knowing Jesper probably wouldn’t mind, you let yourself in and walk over to the only chair in the room.

You let yourself settle in and reach out to take the deck of cards Jesper always keeps on his nightstand.

You’re fooling around with the cards, if only to keep yourself busy as you wait for Jesper. You’re shuffling the cards, moving them smoothly in your hands.

‘Can you teach me that?’

At the sudden voice, you drop half of the cards. You hadn’t seen or heard him coming. Jesper chuckles as he walks over and stands behind you, looking out over the city beneath you.

‘This is my favourite view.’ he says, looking out the window.

‘Mine too.’ you say, while you look at the reflection of his face in the window. You then fully realise you haven’t talked about Kaz in weeks, that you just come to Jesper’s room for a conversation and some company, and you remember the night he slept on the floor.

‘Jes?’ you ask him. ‘Yea love?’ he says. ‘The other night when I was here-’ ‘Care to specify which night?’

‘I fell asleep, and when I woke up you were sleeping on the floor.’ ‘Oh, that night.’ he says. ‘Well, would you rather I had pushed you off the bed?’ ‘No.’ you laugh.

Jesper laughs too and you look at each other in silence afterward. It’s a comfortable silence, and he’s the first one to speak up.

‘You haven’t talked about Kaz in a while.’ he says. ‘Finally realised his heart belongs to someone else?’

‘Yes, well, I realised that so does mine.’ you say. This makes Jesper frown.

‘Already moving on?’ he says. ‘Thought your feelings for him were more serious.’

‘They were.’ you say. ‘But I've found someone who listens to me, who sees me, who makes me laugh.’ you cock your head to the side a little and look at him. ‘Nice to look at, as well.’

Jesper raises one eyebrow.

‘Who is this mystery person?’ he says. ‘And am I problem solving or listening?’ ‘Well I hope you’re gonna do something else.’ you say. Jesper frowns again, making you playfully roll your eyes.

‘Not the smartest tonight, are we?’ you say. ‘Let me repeat it: I've found someone who listens to me, sees me, and makes me laugh. and not bad to look at.’

He’s still frowning. ‘Another hint?’ he says. ‘This is why Kaz does the planning and has the brains.’ you say, laughing.‘Rude.’ says Jesper.

‘It’s a he, and he’s caring and sweet, sometimes struggles to sit still, loves a good gunfight, he’s an excellent shot.’ you say.

Jesper smirks at you and then fakes a look of confusion on his face. ‘Still not getting it.’ he says. ‘Tell me more about him.’

You laugh and get up, standing close to him. ‘He’s not just an excellent shot, he’s the best damn sharpshooter in Ketterdam. Saved my ass a couple times as well. Owns a pair of stunningly hand made revolvers. He’s Zemini, taller than me, and..’ your voice drifts off.

‘And?’ says Jesper, stepping closer to you. ‘And I've been wondering if he’s a good kisser.’ you say softly.

‘Well, let’s find out, shall we?’ says Jesper and he cups your face with both of his hands and presses his lips against yours. They’re soft, and you can taste a hint of his last drink on them. He kisses you gently but passionate, and takes a breath when he pulls away.

‘Hmm.’ you say, pretending to think. ‘Yea, pretty good.’

‘Pretty good?’ says Jesper. ‘I've heard I'm more than a pretty good kisser.’

‘Prove it then.’ you say.

Jesper smirks and pulls you in for a kiss once more. This one is different, it’s more demanding, and leaves you breathless as you struggle to keep your knees from buckling.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. ‘How about that?’ he says softly.

You smile and press a quick kiss to his lips. ‘You live up to your reputation, Fahey.’ you say. ‘You’re an excellent kisser.’

‘Just like I thought.’ says Jesper. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’

‘I would love to.’ you say.

You spend the rest of the night talking with Jesper until eventually, you feel yourself falling asleep. You feel how Jesper moves next to you, to take his spot on the floor again. You lay a hand on his arm to stop him, silently telling him it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Kaz wasn’t the right match for you, Inej is. But Jesper certainly is your match.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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peach-skull · 3 years

Text

Forever yours

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

__________________________________________________________________________

tags/TW

Unprotected sex, dry humping, pregnancy mention, cumming inside, childhood friends to lovers, facesitting, shiggy being his nasty self, no quirks au, fluff adjacent

________________________________________________________________

You would get a turn once he died. That’s how it was: That’s how it had been ever since you two were children. Tomura rarely died in video games, so if you wanted a turn you either had to whine until he gave in or wait until he was too focused to notice you take it from him until it was too late. However, you weren’t interested in video games today. You were interested in him. In his soft blue hair, his long, slender fingers, his beautiful crimson eyes. You were head over heels for your best friend since childhood, Tomura Shigaraki. It was a terrible, roiling mixture of puppy love and sheer lust. You wanted to go on long walks and hold his hand. You also wanted him to bend you over a table and fuck you until your legs gave out.

“ Tomu.”

He didn’t answer you, too absorbed in his game to pay attention to anything else. You huffed and tapped him with your foot.

“Tomura!”

Shigaraki muttered something unintelligible and paused his game, looking at you over his shoulder.

“ What do you want, (Y/N)?”

Showtime.

“ I have, uh, a personal question for you”

He grabbed an energy drink and took a sip.

“ Just ask it already.”

You needed to ask this casually. Like you couldn’t care less about the answer. Just making friendly conversation.

“ You’re still a virgin, right?”

He choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he tried to think of an answer. Who just asks shit like that?! You better not be making fun of him.

“ That’s none of your goddamn business,asshole.”

Based on his reaction alone, he had to be. You shrugged casually and adjusted one of your thigh-highs, smoothing your pleated skirt once it was back in position. You had worn them especially for him: you knew him long enough to know what he liked.

“ I’ll take that as a yes. So am I. I want to lose it but like, with the right person y’know? Not some rando, or like, a boyfriend who’ll sour the experience if we break up.”

You have never used ‘like’ in a sentence so many times in your life. Or used the word rando.

“ so I was thinking, wouldn’t it be way easier to do it with someone you already trust? Like a close friend . so what if we, Y’know, helped each other ou-

SLAM. before you could even finish your question, Shigaraki had moved from the foot of the bed to the headboard, straddling you with his hands gripping above your head.

He loomed above you, a massive cheshire grin plastered on his flushed face.

“ You aren’t fucking with me, right? You’re being serious? You actually wanna fuck?”

You didn’t expect him to be so enthusiastic about it. You thought he would decline, or accept in a less...intense manner. He was panting and leering and- was he seriously drooling? As if to answer your question, a drop of spit landed on your chest. Maybe a keyhole sweater wasn’t the best thing to wear today.

“N-no, I'm not messing around, Tomu. I-I want… I want to have sex with you.”

Tomura quickly laid on top of you, pinning you down and shoving his tongue into your mouth. You had never been kissed before. You tried to keep up with him, but he was just so rough that it was difficult to do so.You put your trembling hands oh his shoulders and tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position. He snickered and began to grind against your lap, completely misunderstanding what you were trying to do. You pushed his face away, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“ Get off for a second, I need to move my legs.”

Tomura rolled his eyes but did as you said, crawling backwards on all fours. More of a scuttle, really. You lifted your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your string-tie panties. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him to come back before he pounced, rutting against your covered pussy and latching onto your neck. You could feel the seam of his jeans rubbing on your clit as he frantically humped you. It felt better than you thought it would: his weight on you, the teeth on your throat, the grind of his hard cock on your aching sex. You were getting close to the edge already, moaning and grabbing onto his hoodie as you tried not to finish.

“T-Tomura! Please slow down, I- ah! I’m- I don’t want to cum from kissing! Please, just s-stop for a second!”

Goddammit, he was so close. It hurt to pull away from the warm embrace of your thighs, but he grit his teeth and did it anyways. You had a point: cumming from dry humping alone was a little pathetic. Shigaraki sat back on his heels and surveyed the damage.

Your skirt was pulled up past your stomach. One of your thigh highs had rolled all the way down to your ankle and your neck was covered in bruises. The hole in the chest of your sweater had slipped, exposing the top of your nipples. You weren’t wearing a bra. Holy shit, you weren’t wearing a bra. You had waltzed over to his house and sat on his bed in thigh highs and a sailor skirt and one of those sweaters with a boob window and NO FUCKING BRA. Tomura jumped off of the bed and pulled down his pants without bothering to unzip them. As you stared at the absolute monster of a cock that your best friend somehow had tucked away just moments ago, you only had one question on your mind.

“ um, Shiggy?”

You only called him that when you were particularly nervous. Tomura tore off his hoodie, his shirt going along with it and threw them both on the ground.

“ Why the hell is your dick so goddamn big?!”

He looked down at his crotch as if he had absolutely no clue that his cock was roughly the size of a coke bottle. He looked at you and shrugged.

“ No idea. It’s always been like this, can I fuck your tits?”

He had to be joking.

“What?!”

“ Can you give me a titjob? Please?! I’m really close! It’ll take like two minutes, I swear!

If you weren’t madly in love with this man, you’d put him and his stupid horse cock in a shallow grave.

“ Yeah, yeah, just gimme a sec…”

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him, grinning wildly.

“ Lay down over here and put your boobs on my lap. This’ll be great,I swear.”

Shit, why did he have to be so cute?! You grumbled about various grievances you had with your friend and his dopey smile and that scar on his lips and and his stupid fucking fat dick as you got off his bed and walked over to where he was sitting. You stood in front of him and took off your sweater, chucking it into his face.

“ I swear to GOD if you choke me with that thing, I’ll bite it off. No head-pushing, Understand?”

He just smiled and nodded his head rapidly.

You turned around and took your skirt off, bending over afterwards to roll up the rogue stocking that had decided to slip. While you were busy trying to keep the damn thing from falling again, Tomura grabbed the strings tying your panties together and tugged, undoing the bows and yanking them off of you.

“HEY!”

He held the underwear up to get a closer look. They were white and (f/c) striped, with lace and a little bow on top. Absolutely adorable. He was going to add them to his collection when you weren’t looking,but he just couldn't resist pressing his face into the damp fabric and inhaling deeply.

Was this motherfucker seriously sniffing your panties right in front of you?! You snatched the cloth away from him and threw them across the room, safe from his nasty clutches. For now.

“ Heh, sorry about that (Y/N). You always smell so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

That really shouldn’t have made your stomach flutter the way it did. You laid on the bed, lowering your chest onto Tomura’s lap. He ran his hand down your back and slapped your ass, laughing when you yelped out of pain and surprise.

“ Raise your hips. I can’t have you doing all the work now can I?”

He lowered his hand past your ass, but his fingers couldn’t reach your clit, stopping a few centimeters short. He grumbled and leaned to the side, trying his best to figure out a position that would let him rub your clit and finger your dripping pussy at the same time and gave him the lap titjob he wanted. He might have miscalculated, but that couldn’t be: it looked great in the hentai he saw a couple weeks ago, so it should work just fine IRL!

“ Tomura, this position is kinda weird. I don’t think this is going to work the way you think it will.”

“ Yes it will! C’mon, just raise your hips a little more-”

You looked up at him as best you could from the awkward position on his lap.

“ You saw this in a doujin, didn’t you?”

After around five minutes of arguing about whether or not Tomura’s stupid position would ( or even could) work, you decided to take initiative by pushing him down and sitting on his face. How else were you supposed to shut him up?

“ Sorry, Tomu. This was the only way to get you to be quiet. Seriously, who the hell gets into an argument about hentai in the middle of a hookup? There’s a time and place for everything, dumbass.”

You drooled into your palm to make impromptu lube before wrapping your hand around the head of his cock, smearing your saliva and his precum around as you jerked him off. You had never given a handjob before, but if the moans sending vibrations straight to your core where anything to go on, you were doing a pretty good job. You grabbed the back of his head and ground against his face, giggling when his cock twitched.

“ C’mon, make me cum! Don’t you wanna get to the main event? I want you to rail me until I can't walk. Don’t you wanna fuck me, Tomura? Do you wanna slam that fat cock into my tight little pussy or not?”

He’d always been fun to tease, but never like this. There was a sort of power in it now: you had him right where you wanted him. Or so you thought.Shigaraki growled and grabbed your ass to hold you still. He was sick and tired of you always messing with him. Elbowing him during multiplayer games so he would mess up.Taking the last sip of his energy drink, not even thinking of the indirect kiss. Filling his room with the smell of your perfume after a day of hanging out and then just leaving him alone to masturbate to the thought of you.

“ Aw, are you getting cranky, Tomu? I’m almo-”

He licked along your folds before getting to your clit. He drew slow circles with his tongue before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking harshly. He flicked his tongue over your clit, adding a maddening amount of stimulation to the already overwhelming act. You squealed and tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too strong.

“ Oh fuck! It’s too much, I’m not gonna be able to - ah!- be able to focus on what I’m doing here!”

Tomura didn’t give a fuck about what you where trying to do. He cared about revenge. And if revenge came in the form of eating your pussy until you cried, then so be it. He had no plans of stopping : your bittersweet taste and your thighs squeezing his head was too damn good. He stopped sucking with a loud pop and shoved his tongue deep inside of you. He didn’t have a lot of experience ( he had 0 experience) but he had heard enough stories from his more socially savvy friends to know that you were supposed to keep your hands, mouth, or toys on the clit at all times. Keeping this advice in mind, he rubbed his thumb over your clit.

This was ridiculous. How was he this good at eating pussy? He was supposed to be the same as you: an inexperienced virgin. Maybe all that porn he watched did some good. You had no idea. All you knew for certain was that if he got the upper hand, you’d never hear the end of it. Your efforts had slowed due to Shigaraki’s distraction. You gripped his cock harder and moved your hand faster. Tomura moaned and bucked his hips. With the amount of precum that was leaking out, he had to be close.

He didn’t want to let you win, but your hand was making it impossible to focus. It was just so damn soft: nothing like his rough, calloused fist. Tomura had no idea how he was going to go back to his left hand after this. If your hand was this good, what was your cunt going to feel like? It really hit him then. He had been fantasizing about it for years, and now it was actually going to happen. He was going to fuck you. The mere thought of it caused the tension in his stomach to break, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his throbbing cock and landing on his torso. The look on his face was driving you insane: bright red, eyes rolled back in his skull, brows crinkled in a way you had always found adorable. You threaded your fingers through his hair with both hands and started desperately humping his face. You wanted to cum,needed to cum: you just wanted him to fuck you already. You had waited for years. You finally came with a wail, crushing his head between your thighs as you rode out the high of your long-awaited orgasm.

It took you several seconds to remember that your friend probably needed to breathe. You got off of him as quickly as you could on your trembling legs.

“ Are you okay, Shiggy? I didn’t mean to suffocate you: it just felt so good that I lost control…”

Shigaraki quickly sat up. He was doing great: just had the best nut of his entire life, got his head squeezed and his hair pulled, and he was going to lose his virginity to the girl he had pined over for nearly his entire life. How could he be doing anything other than amazing?!

“ I'm good.”

You looked at the mess all over his chest. How was it even possible to cum that much and still be hard? Was that just how much there always was? Did he need to see a doctor?

While the gears turned in your head, Tomura grabbed a shirt from the floor and wiped himself off, tossing the soiled fabric away once he was done. The sheer nastiness of that snapped you out of your confused state. You were about to say something when he beat you to it.

“ What position do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know, like doggy, or cowgirl, or wheelbarrow-”

You didn’t think wheelbarrow was an actual position, but you really didn’t want to get into another argument right now. You were gonna call him out on it later, though.

“ I’d like to do missionary.”

Tomura nodded sagely. Missionary was a classic. A bit basic, but it would do.

“If you’re ready, let’s move on to the next level”

You nodded, too nervous to speak. He shuffled slowly towards you, hands shaking and arms outstretched. He needed to be cool about this: he came on a bit strong after your proposal earlier. You laid on your back and resisted the urge to cover your face with your hands. You had wanted this for such a long time, but he was just so big and he was seeing you naked and he was actually kind of muscular without his clothes on and- for fucks sake was he seriously drooling again?!

Shigaraki quickly wiped the drool away from his mouth. You were just so beautiful. You looked scared,though-was it the drooling? He couldn’t help that! He started to scratch his neck- a habit that he just couldn’t seem to break. Even if it meant that he wasn’t going to get to have sex today, he needed to make sure that you still wanted this.

“ Are you okay? We can… we can stop i-

“NO! I mean- n-no, I’m fine. Just- just be gentle, okay?

Gentle. He could do that. Just go slow, don’t go in all the way, and probably no biting. Wait, didn’t he need a condom? It must not be that big of a deal if you didn’t bother to bring it up, right? Yeah, he could just pull out.

Tomura grabbed the base of his cock and lined it at your entrance before carefully pushing inside of you. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as you thought it would: it just stung a little bit. You had expected ripping, bleeding pain before seeing his dick, and kind of assumed you would die after seeing it in all it’s terrifying glory. But no! You were alive and thriving.

Your partner in crime, however, was having a significantly harder time. Your pussy made his fleshlight feel like sandpaper in comparison: he considered burning the stupid peice of silicone after you two were done for being so inferior to the real thing. The fleshlight wasn’t this tight, or this warm, and it didn’t twitch like your pussy did. He honestly felt kind of bad for the times that he used it while thinking of you- not for jacking off to you or anything like that, but for using that piece of shit as a stand-in. It was insulting. Shigaraki figured that it probably wasn’t the best idea to put it in all the way in,but it was taking every ounce of his self-control to not just slam in balls-deep and fuck you into the mattress.

….. Was he okay? There was a vein bulging on his forehead and he looked damn-near terrified. You were going to have to make the first move again. You put your hands on his waist and pulled him towards you until his hips were flush with yours. Despite the slow entrance, his cock hitting your cervix still knocked the air out of you. It hurt a bit more now, but not nearly enough to stop.

“ I-it’s okay Shiggy, it doesn’t hurt. You can move now..”

Tomura cautiously pulled backwards a few inches and pressed back inside just as carefully. His first couple of thrusts were a bit awkward, but he soon found a slow, steady rhythm.

You couldn’t believe how soft he was being. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your collar bone before moving to your breasts, licking your nipple before putting it in his mouth and sucking. His other hand was lightly caressing the opposing mound. It was all so sweet and tender that you almost wanted to cry: you knew that he didn’t feel the same way that you did. But for now, all you could do was stroke his hair and pretend that you were making love instead of just hooking up.

“Mmmmn, T-tomur-ah!”

This wasn’t fair! He had liked you for years, you were gasping and moaning underneath him, but something unpleasant was still prodding at the back of his thoughts. After this, you were going to find some strong, confident man to take his place. This was just practice. Shigaraki didn’t want this to be practice: he wanted you to be his last. He wanted to be your only. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and started to thrust into you harder. He wanted you to be all his.

“ Mmmineeee...”

Mine?! Did he just say “mine”?! Did he- did he feel the same way?! No, that couldn't be: you probably just misheard him.

“ um, w-what did you say?”

He snapped his head up and glared at you, his ruby eyes practically glowing.

“ I said mine! I want you to be mine! MY player two, MY pussy,MINE!”

With every repeat of mine he slammed into you a little harder, a little rougher.

“Come on, say it! Say you’ll be mine, (Y/N)!

You felt like such an idiot. Of course Tomura wasn’t going to say that he liked you- this was Tomura you were talking about. But he’d been showing it for years- walking you home, helping you win plushies at the arcade, dying on purpose so you would get a chance to play, giving you his hoodie whenever it was cold out…. How did you not notice? But he was never going to take the final step. So as per usual, it was up to you to take initiative. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled when he nuzzled into your touch.

“ I love you, Tomura. I’ve always been yours.”

He froze at your confession. Oh shit, did you go too far? Was the whole “mine” thing just his idea of dirty talk? Shigaraki pulled out and moved backwards. Just as you were about to say something, he grabbed your knees and moved your legs up until they were above your head. Was he seriously going to just ignore what you just said?! You just told him that you loved him, for fucks sake! Did all the blood rushing to his dick leave him braindead?

Shigaraki knew the look on your face well: narrowed eyes, pursed lips, puffed cheeks. Impatient and suspicious. He’d better not keep you waiting,then. He positioned himself so that his cock was dangling above your exposed hole and leaned in close until you two were nose to nose.

“ I love you too, (Y/N).”

With your confession returned, he slammed into your waiting cunt in one quick thrust, groaning as he was finally balls-deep inside of your warm,slick pussy. You squealed as he jackrabbited into your core with short, deep thrusts, hitting a spot inside that you’d never been able to reach. The headboard of the bed crashed against the wall loudly, creating a lewd orchestra alongside the squeaking of the bedsprings and your wanton moans. Tomura’s hair fell alongside your face in a soft curtain, making it so he was the only thing you could see. As if you’d look anywhere else.

“ I love you! I love you! I mean it, I love you! You’re gorgeous, you feel so good, I love you! I love you so fucking much! I love you! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveIloveyouIloveyou-”

You pulled your babbling lover into a deep kiss as the knot inside of your stomach snapped. Your convulsing walls squeezed his cock in a vice grip as you came, nearly sending him over the edge .

“ C-can I cum inside? I don’t wanna pull out! I swear I’ll take responsibility if you get pre- i-if anything happens! Please, let me cum inside of you!”

You could barely think through your haze, so you just nodded your head. Of course he could cum inside: where else was it supposed to go? He wasn’t wearing a condom after all… you probably should’ve made him wear one. Oh well. That was a problem for future (Y/N) to worry about.

Tomura wrapped his arms around your waist and thrusted his hips one more time before

Blowing his load directly into your womb, spurt after spurt of creamy white filling you to the brim, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he howled with pleasure.

“Hhhhhhhhh…. I love youuuu…..”

He let out a contented sigh and flopped on top of you without bothering to take his cock out of your cum-filled pussy. He was too tired- he’d pull out after a nap. You were just as exhausted as he was- cleanup was just another issue future (Y/N) would have to deal with. You yawned and nuzzled into his neck before drifting into a peaceful, messy sleep.

End

_______________________________________

I wrote this after a debate with @libiraki about who’s dick was worse: Shigaraki or Dabi’s.

#i wrote it like a month after but still #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #smut #its nasty boy shig hours who tf is up #shiggy smut #childhood friends to lovers #quirkless au

870 notes · View notes

sirenascales · 3 years

Text

-> double black [part two] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

A failed friend date turns into a day of fun and laughs with a rather odd coworker. [Dazai x 1stPOV!F!Reader]

3,274 words

Warning: suicide ideation (like, it's Dazai, c'mon now.)

note: I'm glad some of ya'll seemed to enjoy chuuya's chapter! I decided to just upload Dazai's and then we can move on to the story. Please enjoy! Tags in the replies.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"Keiko-- Keiko, it's two PM!" I said into the phone, sending an apologetic look to my coworkers. "And I'm at work. You can't be calling me, especially when you're drunk so early in the day."

"Uggghhhh, you're so mean!" I sighed softly at Keiko's response, the office phone on my desk beginning to ring.

"Keiko, I have to go now, I'm sorry! Call Taichi and tell him to bring you home."

"Wait-"

I ended the call, rubbing my eyebrows as I picked up the other phone. "Armed Detective Agency, how may I help you?"

It's been around three months since I've started working at the Agency, and I have to say, it was a pretty great job. It paid well, kept me on my toes with the many different cases we took on, and my coworkers were great... despite how weird they were.

"That's like the seventh time your friend called you this week," Ranpo spoke up from his desk, the man literally surrounded by snack wrappers.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyebrows. "I know, I'm sorry everyone. She's not usually like this... I know she likes to drink, but... never to this extent."

"Maybe there is something going on?" the cute Atsushi suggested and I frowned. "Maybe you can try to find out?"

"It wouldn’t be wise to just push yourself into someone's private life like that," Kunikida added and I nodded in agreement.

Of course I couldn't. Not with who her boyfriend was. I was her best friend, but even I knew not to step in. "Besides, she always says she's okay when I ask..." I said thoughtfully, too distracted to continue my work. I could believe her, right? Besides, she had Taichi. He loved her, and always made sure that she was protected and taken care of. He always made sure to be around her when he wasn't away, keeping her to his side at all times. I thought maybe he was being a bit too protective, but I also understood because of his... profession.

"Alright, alright, we have a schedule, people. Let's not get too distracted here," Kunikida exclaimed and I laughed softly. The only one with a schedule was the super punctual man himself, but I still went on to do my work.

"Speaking of work..." I started, unimpressed as I Iooked to the empty desk across the office. "Where the hell is Dazai?"

Atsushi just hung his head and sighed, Kunikida gritting his teeth at his desk. "I tried calling him but he wouldn't pick up," Atsushi sighed again and I huffed, standing up from my desk. "I'll take my 30 now. I'll be in the cafe and I'll try to get Dazai to bring his scrawny ass to work."

The Agency was on the fourth floor of the building while the cafe was down on the first, very convenient for me. I was lazy and the coffee and food was good. I dialed up Dazai's number as I descended the four flights of stairs, pressing my phone to my ear.

At the top of one flight, I stopped when I heard a familiar ring tone blare out, and when I looked down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw the man of the hour. His brown hair was wavy as ever, his signature tanned jacket looking immaculate. I watched as he just looked at his phone, watching it ring before he put his phone in his pocket.

I hated him. "So you were just gonna ignore me?!" I shouted down the stairs. Dazai whipped his head up, eyes going comically wide.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, practically running up the stairs right towards me. I gasped and back away quickly, back hitting the wall as Dazai caged me between his bandaged arms. His forehead pressed against mine and I will my face not to burn as he looked at me with those pretty brown eyes of his. "I missed you."

My heart skipped a beat, my mouth going dry. Still, I glared up at the man. "We just saw each other yesterday," I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the feeling of his soft breath against my face. I was thankful my voice didn't crack. "And you have plenty of paperwork to do still on your desk."

"Ehhh, I'm tired and I'm busy," Dazai nonchalantly waved that off, now standing away from me and waving his hand dismissively. "Got better things to do."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah? Like what?"

With that, Dazai took my hands in his, a hopeful look on his face. Here we go again. "Double suicide."

"No." I immediately declined him. "My answer is still the same as it was last week."

Dazai visibly deflated, covering his eyes dramatically. "Sweet death... she evades me yet again..."

"Yeah," I deadpanned, brushing past Dazai and heading down the stairs. "Anyway. I'm heading to the cafe to get something to eat."

"Oh!" Dazai exclaimed, hooking my arm with his as he quickly came up to my side. "I'll go with you!"

"You have work to do!" I yelled at him, trying to push him back up the stairs. "Go before Kunikida has an aneurysm."

"But I don't wanna!" Dazai whined, quickly turning the tables on me. Now he was behind me, his arms wrapped around me and pinning my arms to my chest. I felt his breath against my left ear and I shivered deeply. "I wanna spend time with you..." he whispered softly, his voice dropping. I bit my bottom lip, looking over at him over my shoulder. I shivered again, the usual brightness in his eyes gone. I've only seen that look on his face a handful of times, and it never failed to make me feel completely on edge. Like I was in danger.

I liked it.

"Ugh," I sneered, rolling my eyes and shaking myself out of his arms. "Fine, fine. I'll treat today, okay?"

"Yay!" Dazai's jovial nature returned as he followed me to the cafe. I shake my head at the strange duality of the man. We sat across from each other, the redheaded waitress named Lucy that obviously had a crush on Atsushi giving us some menus.

As I looked over the menu, I looked over at Dazai, the man humming as he mulled over his choices. I bit the inside of my cheek, just feeling that maybe there was more to Dazai than he let on.

The weekend soon arrived and I was in a bit of a sour mood. I was at the boardwalk, sitting on an empty bench after getting off the phone with Keiko. We were supposed to spend the day together, but she had called me thirty-minutes late, all of a sudden saying that she couldn't make it.

Her tone of voice worried me, she sounded rushed and breathless, totally unlike her. "I'm okay. I'm sorry for flaking out so suddenly," she said before she ended the call. I blinked at the screen, a bit put off by the entire thing. Just what was up with her?

Though I couldn't dwell on it, for there was a presence behind me. "Well, well, look what we have here," a teasing voice whispered into my ear before blowing into it. I shrieked, jumping off the bench before spinning around.

"Dazai!" I hissed at the laughing man standing on the other side of the bench. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Bet it got your heart pumping, huh," Dazai hummed happily, skipping around the bench and right over to me. "Bella, I missed you~" he hugged me tightly in his arms. I sighed deeply, half-heartedly wrapping my arms around him in return and giving him a pat on the back.

"We saw each other yesterday."

"Eighteen hours is too long, bella."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from the huge and giving Dazai a look. "You're so dramatic, dude," I say with a laugh, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, well I thought this would be a great place to think about how to commit suicide," Dazai began and I gave him another look. "But, I saw my bella looking so sad and lonely! I just had to rush to comfort her!"

Dazai hugged me again, squeezing me tight. I let out a struggling breath, writhing a bit in his hold. "You're killing me!"

"Oh! Let's commit do-"

"No, oh my God!"

I turned and stormed away from the suicidal man, shaking my head when I heard him call out for me. "Bella, wait!" He latched onto my arm, pressing his cheek against mine. "Tell me what's wrong. I am your trusted friend and coworker~"

"More like trusted pain in my ass," I mumbled before sighing, walking over to the boardwalk railing and staring out into the ocean. "It's Keiko. She was supposed to be with me today, but she just called and canceled..." I frowned deeply, eyebrows pinched in worry.

"What else did she say?" Dazai asked quietly, having gone serious once he saw the look in my face. "How did she seem?"

"Off..." I answered immediately before I looked over at my companion. "Or am I just imagining things? Yeah, I'm disappointed she flaked out but...." I hung my head. "I don't know..."

"Well, it could be nothing," Dazai suggested. "Or it could be something. There's no way for you to know."

I made a face at his vague ass answer before sighing again. "I can only trust her. She was the first friend I made when I moved to Japan, and I was excited to see her today. I've been having a rough time lately."

"Is something bothering you?" Dazai asked, and I shivered feeling his gaze on me.

"Eh... just depressed," I answered offhandedly. "Lonely. Normal sad girl shit, ya know."

That made Dazai snicker under his breath. "Yeah, I know. But luckily for you," Dazai started, arm draping around my shoulders and pulling me to him. "I'm here to save the day!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed before I wrapped my arm around his middle, letting him hold me against him. "You'll hang out with me today?"

Dazai grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

Time flew by so quickly, that I was surprised to look at my phone and see that it was damn near seven in the evening. Gaping, I looked up, seeing that the sky was slowly turning dark. "Holy crap, Dazai. Did we really spend the whole day out here?" I asked in shock, looking over at him. "What the hell did we do?!"

"What didn't we do," Dazai whined, slumping against me. "I'm tired... and you still wanna ride the stupid ferris wheel!"

"It's not stupid," I said with a pout. "Besides... we're already in line."

"Meh," Dazai grumbled, still keeping his body pressed against me as we waited in line. He was behind me, his chin pressed on my shoulder. I tried not to shiver as I felt his breath along my neck.

Soon enough, we were in our carriage and slowly riding up to the top. I took a few pictures as we did so, Dazai looking over in amazement.

"You think the drop from up here would kill me?"

"Yeah, and would scar everyone here."

"Oh yeah... can't have that."

I rolled my eyes, glancing over at him and pausing for a bit. Dazai was still looking out over Yokohama, an expression I've never seen before on his face. He almost looked... sad. Very handsome, his side profile absolutely perfect. But he still looked sad. I took a quick picture, smiling as I looked over it on my phone.

The carriage stopped and I couldn't help but grin as we just swayed softly up in the air. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Dazai. It would have sucked if I had spent it alone."

"Ahh, don't sweat it, bella. I couldn't possibly leave you out here alone," Dazai answered dramatically and I laughed and rolled my eyes.

I felt a vibration in my pocket and I grabbed my phone, smiling at the cute selfie that Keiko sent to me.

'I'm so sorry for bailing! I'll make it up to you, I promise! ❤ mwuah'

"Is that Keiko?" Dazai asked and I nodded, sending her a quick reply.

"Yeah. She seems to be doing okay," I said, feeling a bit relieved.

"That's great!" Dazai exclaimed, getting up from his spot and carefully making his way to sit beside me, much to my horror.

"Dazai! We're not supposed to move around!"

"We're fine!" he waved me off dismissively. "Now you can stop worrying about Keiko and focus on what's important. Me."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You?"

Dazai hummed. "Yes, me. And how I'm taking you home tonight."

My jaw drops, face heating up at his words. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Dazai answered, his voice dropping a bit as his gaze and entire mood changed. His gaze was darker now, his lips curled up in an almost dangerous smirk. "I think it's time we stop tiptoeing around each other and just take what we really want."

My mouth went dry and I quickly became flustered, turning my head away. Immediately, a hand is grabbing my face, Dazai digging his fingers into my cheeks as he forces me to look back at him.

"Nuh uh, you look at me when I'm speaking."

His authoritative tone makes me freeze, heart pounding in my chest as I stared at Dazai, completely bewildered. I knew there was something more about him than he had let on, and whatever it was, had me in fight or flight mode.

"Now, when we're done here, we're gonna leave and head back to my place, okay?" he asked me, but his tone made it seem like it wasn't a request, and it sure as hell didn't match the seemingly innocent smile on his face; not when it didn't reach his eyes.

I nodded, Dazai removing his hand from my face. His smile sent shivers down my spine.

"Good."

"Mmn... fuck, Dazai..." I moaned and gasped softly, the man on top of me littering my neck with angry red and purple marks, two of his fingers working inside my pussy. I was completely naked on his bed, Dazai only in his underwear-- and his bandages still wrapped around his arms and chest.

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Dazai whispered against my neck, curling his fingers and smirking when I cried out. "Call me Osamu. Don't make me tell you again."

I frantically nodded my head, crying out again as he sped up the pace of his fingers, his mouth moving down to my chest. "F-fuck, Osamu!"

"That's it," he whispered, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth. My fingers curled into his soft brown hair, head tilting back and eyes screwing shut as Dazai continued to pleasure my body.

It wasn't long until he pushed his hard cock into my wet pussy, the both of us groaning at the feeling of us finally connecting. I was on my knees and elbows, pillow placed under my hips. Dazai started out slowly, biting his lip as he watched his dick disappear inside of me.

"Fuck... I'm gonna burn this sight into my memory," Dazai groaned, making me whine as I shook my head.

"D-don't stare like that..."

Dazai chuckled softly, his hands grabbing my hips as he started to move faster, thrusting harder. I moaned and whined, it seemed to be the only thing I could do while Dazai fucked the shit outta me. "Osamu... please..."

My whining made the man above me grin widely, his thrusts becoming rougher, almost wild as he suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful off my hair. I yelped when he yanked me up, my back now pressed against his chest and his other hand wrapped around my throat.

"What is it, bella?" he hissed into my ear, pounding away at my pussy and making me cry out again. God, it was too much all at once. "What does my pretty little subordinate want?"

I whined. "I want to cum... please Osamu..."

He cackled, pushing me back on the bed, grabbing my hips so hard, I knew I was gonna bruise. "Cum then," he hissed down at me, pushing my face into the mattress. He fucked me relentlessly, fingers finding my clit and rubbing harsh circles. That made my vision go white, my scream muffled as I came hard, body going rigid as pleasure overtook my body.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Dazai grunted. He pulled out, ignoring my whines as he stepped off the bed. "Get on your back."

I barely rolled over halfway until there was a strong grip on my ankle, my body being pulled down the length of the bed. Dazai stood at the end, wasting no time in pushing my legs back by the back of my knees, and plunging his cock back into me.

I looked up at him through teary eyes, and I knew I should have been afraid of the mad look that was in his eyes, the way his lips were curled up in a snarl. But it just made my pussy clench around him in arousal, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I came a second time as he did his first, and much to my ultimate pleasure, we weren't finished there. We pleasured each other through the night, until we wore each other out and fell asleep entangled in the sheets.

I woke up the next morning, groaning in pain as I felt my body ache. I forced myself to sit up, looking around blearily and humming softly when I found Dazai sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back to me.

"Good morning," he sang to me and I giggled softly, carefully moving to kneel behind him. The blankets fell from around me and I pressed my bare chest against his back. "Hm, that's nice."

"Morning," I said softly, peeking over his shoulder. "What are you do-"

I stop, staring as Dazai wrapped seemingly clean bandages on his heavily scarred left arm. I swallowed thickly, my mind running at what could have possibly been the cause of those scars.

But deep down, I knew that the cause was Dazai himself.

"Do... Do you have enough?" I asked softly, not knowing what else to even say. I didn't want to pry or seem insensitive, just having to get over this metaphorical punch in the gut myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Dazai answered, turning to face me with a cheery smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, I was flat on my back, Dazai on top of me with his lips pressed against mine. It was easy for him to make me forget about what I saw, his kisses stealing my breath away.

"I have to go," he said softly, pushing himself off me after a moment.

I nodded solemnly, watching him continue to get dressed. "Alright. See you at work tomorrow?"

He smirked at me. "You know the answer to that."

I rolled my eyes again, just as my phone started to ring. I grabbed it, sending Dazai a quick smile before answering the call.

"Hey Keiko, guess who got fucking laid." That made Dazai snort while I grinned, though my grin fell as I didn't hear Keiko go off like I thought she would. "Keiko?" I shared a look with Dazai.

"Hey... I need you. Can I come over?"

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yeehaw #chuuya smut #yeah lmao goodnight

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