#The Secret Tre Files

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out. 

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit! 

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour. 

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch. 

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge. 

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help. 

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore. 

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man. 

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?” 

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them. 

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal. 

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss. 

“Close the door,” he said. 

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract? 

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick. 

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this? 

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down. 

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice. 

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were. 

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking. 

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said. 

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you? 

“Count them,” he said. 

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere. 

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company. 

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said. 

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office. 

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said. 

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter? 

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!” 

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job. 

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now. 

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed. 

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening? 

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it. 

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked. 

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase. 

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in  your eyes. 

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract. 

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this? 

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it. 

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself. 

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face. 

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back. 

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing. 

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said. 

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand. 

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright. 

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man. 

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips. 

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before. 

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought. 

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily. 

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars. 

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you. 

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came. 

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said. 

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you. 

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough. 

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos. 

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat. 

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.” 

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something. 

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over. 

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers. 

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk. 

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

[survivorofhellskitchen]

Tag Drop

[henneseyhoe]

My Big Three As Boyfriends|

Trevante♡

You wanna have the perfect balance of a country boy and a city boy rolled into one? He’s the man for you!

His love feels like coming into a warm house after shoveling snow.

The first time you two ever kissed, my lady by Tyrese played in the background and since then ‘my lady’ with a brown heart has been your contact name.

He’ll sing any song you ask him to even though his ass can barely hold a tune in all seriousness.

Uncovering your ears, you start laughing. “Yes, sounds just like how Tyrese sung it” He smiles and takes a bow.

You try not to be the clingiest since he loves his space sometimes, but he definitely has his moments where he needs you near him like some kind of support teddy.

Hates when you all up on him when it’s time to sleep but always ends up damn near on top of you by the morning.

“Move, Bae, it’s hot” he groans. 8 hours later. “Tre…Trevante…baby, you crushin’ me!” You huff, trying to push his arm and leg off of you so you could go pee.

He’ll blame you as if your little ass can move him from one side of the bed to the other.

Expect booty slaps every time you walk by, and don’t let him be upset with you prior, cause it’ll be harder this time.

“Tight ass shorts” he’d say as you walked around the house as free as you wanted in the Nike shorts HE bought you.

Often play fighting and roughhousing until he accidentally hits you too hard and has to be soft with you for the rest of the day.

“Awwnnn, cmere, I didn’t think it was gonna land that hard” he holds you as you pout, rubbing your now sore arm. “That actually hurt, Tre. Like seriously 🥺”

He makes fun of the Erotic books you read, but you caught him peaking over your shoulder once and following along with one of your favorite stories.

“Don’t get too hype, I peeped something and the shit was interesting!”

Has a habit of putting his hand up your shirt when you two are cuddling.

He hates when you leave for work because he works mornings and you work nights. Sometimes on his day offs(though a bad idea) he’d stay up at night and bother you on the phone all throughout your work, dropping hints that you needed to come home on your snack break for a real meal.

-you’d brush him off and sneak off to the bathroom, sending him a titty pic to hold him off till you got home.

-‘oh wow. I just might take a trip instead actually’

-He’s definitely already taken trips up there a few times to get you right, as he should.

Michael♡

A REAL certified loverboy

If you told him to jump, he’d ask how high.

He would never admit it but he is CLINGY. He wants to be with you and all up under you as soon as those paparazzi cameras turn off.

Also certified double texter.

‘babe’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘babe’

‘don’t act like you don’t see these texts’

‘WHAT boy’

‘I miss you’ ‘wyd my love’

‘working. Something you should be busy doin’

‘I finished already’

‘Fast reader you are. Here’s a gold star⭐️’

‘What can I say? You’re engaged to a smart man’

‘Engaged?’

Boo🩷 has unsent a message.

‘Forget you read that till further notice’

The man can’t hold water, as you can see. Which is why you don’t tell him anything that’s meant to be a secret.

He literally can’t sleep without your leg thrown over him some kind of way.

He remembers all the cute little shit you like year around so he already has a laid out plan of gifts for Birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas.

A good bit of his camera roll is just you and screenshots of things he wants to keep tabs of.

Can’t organize for shit and that’s exactly why his phone storage is about to explode

Begged you to organize his work stuff, so you agreed, until you saw NOTHING was put where it’s supposed to go.

“how do you work like this?!”

“I honestly don’t know…I- I do not know” he responds, staring at the unorganized files.

“Your assistant doesn’t take care of this stuff?”

“I don’t like to bother her like that”

“Nigga, she’s an assistant, she’s supposed to be bothered!”

Thursdays were self care days for you two. Wether you were just sitting around and watching a movie or doing actual things to improve the body, it was still self care to y’all.

Both of you are foodies, but he’s more adventurous, so he always tries to get you to try new foods when out together.

“would you ever try live squid?” He asks, looking through the menu the restaurant provided for them. “Uhh..I dunno. I don’t think I’d like it, but I’d probably try. Just have to ignore the memory of that story of that man who ate a live squid and it killed him and crawled back up his throat” he stares at you for a moment then looks back down at his menu. “Never mind then…”

Soooo protective of you and thinks you don’t stand up for yourself enough so he always makes sure you’re heard in any and all conversations.

Takes any chance to show you off. Was it cause he genuinely loved you or was it cause he liked showing niggas what they’ll never have? Both actually.

“Oh, and y’all know my girl, right? My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend” he grabs you by the hand, and kisses the top of it, pulling your attention away from your drink. You smile and look away, feeling extra appreciated.

Gentlemen in the streets, freak nasty in the sheets.

You ever came so hard that it took a few seconds for your vision to come back? Yeah.

Yahya♡

The dynamic between the both of you is just very unserious. He is truly your bestfriend who also happens to be your boyfriend

It’s hard to get anything done when the both of you are constantly cracking jokes back and forth, a con of having the same job.

“Yahya, please, my stomach hurts!” you spoke in between laughs, tears prickling the both of y’all’s eyes as you tried to make it through a SINGULAR business email. “How the fuck do you misspell so much shit on a business email?!” He howled, wiping tears from his face and slouching in his seat, you still crying.

He blames you for when he doesn’t get much work done, but he knows damn well it’s his fault for being the goofy mf he is.

When you two were just friends, your mutual friends would tease him by calling him “boy Y/N” because you both had so much in common.

He’s your reminder to eat like a normal person

“What’d you eat today?” Yahya questions, reading over his weekly to-do list. You glare at him then look back at your computer, not answering because you didn’t wanna hear his mouth about you forgetting to eat. Sighing, he gets up and heads into the kitchen to make you something quick.

At first the relationship felt like you two were still just friends, but you both grew into being a little more intimate with each other.

You both can’t help but create small(but healthy) competitions. You were both a little more competitive than you’d like to admit, but you both had competitions so often that basically everyone you guys hung out with knew of them.

“Damn” You sigh as you watched your paper ball miss the trash basket. “Hm” Yahya hums and gets up, picking the paper ball up. Instead of throwing it away right then, he went back to his seat that was a bit farther back and took a shot, the paper effortlessly making it in the basket. You look back at him with a squint and he smirks. “Okay, bet” you whisper.

Ten minutes had gone by and you both were throwing balled up paper that you needed in the trash. To make what point? Neither of you knew, but you both were entertained.

Theres a box in his closet with Polaroid pictures of you two throughout the five years of dating each other, most taken by Yahya himself because in his words, “I just love looking at you. Pictures don’t even capture all that I see, but damn, baby”

The man could easily make you melt like some chocolate. He was just as smooth as he was when you first met him.

Once you both got more into the relationship, he was honestly the most romantic and caring person ever. He’d do anything to make you feel those butterflies.

Sent you on a corny little riddle game for Valentine’s Day once which lead you to some of your favorite places around the city until the last clue brought you home to three bouquets of your favorite flowers and a ring the size of your brown eyes.

Alexa, play whatever you want by Tony! Toni! Toné!

Some niggas don’t trick, but Yahya? Oh he’s gonna step. In the end, if you’re happy, he’s happy.

The night ended with something else a little more eventful that had the neighbors thinking to call the cops for the third time that month.

He plans on staying with you for the rest of his life, and made that know.

And he’s determined to put a baby in you one of these days, with or without that damn ring.

✮✮✮✮

Looks and bias aside, who would y’all pick as a boyfriend? 🫣 I think I’d pick Yahya 😭

[dysthanasia-series]

Thin Edge of a Wedge Pt. 1

Summary: Isaac approaches Renato with a surprising request. (Possible future scene taking place shortly after Phagophobia, based loosely on this prompt.)

Words: 2,075

Content Advisory: Sexual themes and situations, consensual vampire hypnosis, angry sexual tension, enemies-to-forced-allies-to-lovers, swearing, kissing, biting, consensual blood-drinking, violent vampire feeding thoughts, enthusiastic consent, fade-to-black ending

Renato turned his head and leaned in a fraction as if his hearing had failed him. “I’m sorry. I thought you said—”

“Hypnotize me. Dorian says it’s possible to learn how to break out of bloodborn trances with practice. So, help me train.” Despite the direct words and his matter-of-fact tone, Soto kept his gaze—usually so bold, so sharp—trained on a far corner of the motel room. An arm crossed over his middle, gripping the opposite as he sat on one of the two shabby beds.

While his body already knew which way to cast its vote, Renato’s finer faculties hesitated. “What prompted this?”

“Hm, gosh, let me think. Oh, right. We’re surrounded by Unseen Hand agents who’d love to stab us in the back.”

“Are you implying you could get lost in another bloodborn’s eyes? Agent Soto, you wound me.”

“Can you give being an asshole a rest for, like, half a second? I’m serious.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, truth be told. Quite pragmatic really. Possibly even laudable, given all Soto had recently suffered—no small amount of which sat at the top of Renato’s ever-growing list of mistakes.

That’s precisely what made it so suspicious.

Renato took a seat on the bed across from Soto’s, the rickety frame squeaking as he crossed his legs and leaned back on both hands. “You didn’t have a problem snapping out of my hypnosis the first time. And you seem to have at least some level of immunity to Kinslayer’s version now.”

“That’s not the same as being able to resist questioning in a casual situation I’m not expecting, or with weird soul magic involved. Like you keep pointing out, if Oleander or Motley or any of the Unseen Hand gets wind of what we’re actually up to we’re dead.”

Again, a bit of strategic paranoia worthy of an aquila. Something was definitely off.

“Fine, suppose I agree,” Renato said. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do?”

“I dunno. Ask me stuff I wouldn’t want to answer and I’ll try to resist.”

The sensible thing to do on his end was to walk away, of course. Ignore Soto and whatever strange impulse was driving him for the rest of the evening. Heaven knew there were a hundred and one tasks actually related to their survival that needed his attention.

Only none of those sent a thrill up his spine.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Renato leaned forward and put his hands on his thighs, smiling. He had enjoyed the odd sleepover party—sharing secrets, truth or dare, all that—as a child when they’d been possible. A shame Ollie wasn’t staying in the same motel. He wouldn’t have minded asking for a couple of her facial masks.

With just a trace of trepidation, Soto mirrored his posture. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Released it. Met Renato’s amused gaze with grave determination. “Ready.”

“What’s your name?”

A divot of annoyance appeared on Soto’s brow. “You know it already.”

“Remind me.”

“Isaac Soto Marquez,” he huffed.

“Your birthday?”

“July seventeenth. Which you also know.”

Well, he’d glanced at it in the Coven’s personal file on Soto, although that had been weeks ago. Considering Renato didn’t remember the exact date of his own birth (which might have already passed since he did know it occurred during storm season), he’d have to make a note to write Soto’s down. Get his favorite grumpy researcher a little treat. Speaking of which…

“What sort of cake do you like?”

There. Surprise smoothed out Soto’s expression. Without disapproval or anxiety etched around his mouth or eyes, it was easy to remember he was barely coming up on age thirty. “Cake? Er, tres leches. With fruit on top, not cinnamon.”

“What kind of fruit is your favorite?”

Shoulders relaxed. Pupils dilated slightly. “Well, uh, I like summer ones the most. You know, mangoes, cherries, peaches.” A pause. “That last one’s my favorite, though. I love peaches. Even from a can.”

“Really? I used to love oranges, though of course I can only enjoy them for their smell now. Some of my best memories are of stopping at ports with orchards so I could pick some.” Renato smiled, earning a shy one in return. “Have you ever eaten fruit straight from the tree or vine, Agent Soto?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, a lot of the werecreature communities I’ve visited have gardens. And I did the whole picking strawberries thing during the spring once with Jeremy.” A soft, faraway sheen shone over dark brown eyes.

Renato ran his tongue along the back of one fang. He had Soto now. While their little game hadn’t been Renato’s idea initially, he wasn’t sorry he’d played, whatever the true stakes. “Who’s Jeremy?”

Creaking as weight shifted the other bed. “My ex.”

Careful. The trick was not to let the prey become too distressed. To give him a little guiding nudge here and there along the path, but to always keep him going with the flow of conversation, not against. Not until the trap had sprung and it was too late. “I see. How many relationships have you had, Agent Soto?”

“Just two. Long term ones.”

“Oh, that’s hardly anything to be embarrassed over.” He had one more than Renato under his belt, after all. And, well, he doubted Soto could have done any worse than Ollie and him had. “Even if you’d had hundreds that didn’t last past sunrise it still wouldn’t be.”

“I know. I guess…sometimes I wish I’d been more aggressive or outgoing or whatever. Elfy always gets pissed when we go out and I turn someone down.”

“Elfy? Your friend from the spirits department?”

“Yeah. She’s always telling me to loosen up and stop thinking with the head on my shoulders so much.” A hand flew up to cover a giggle.

As far as life’s little delights went, Renato ranked witnessing the angriest, most stubborn human he’d ever met giggle just below watching his aquarium. “But that’s not really your style?”

“Nope.” A twitch of the fingers, flicker in the eyes. “Well, okay, once in a while—when I’m really drunk—it is.”

This entire situation came into sudden, cold focus. Decades of training kept Renato’s expression, his mask, from slipping, though. “Would you say you’re bashful when it comes to flirting?” He had certainly read Soto that way during their fateful first meeting at that diner. Though he’d swiftly shed whatever reservations he’d had once they crawled into the backseat of the car.

“Mm. Not really. Not after I get what’s going on.”

“No? High standards maybe?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t have a…a type or whatever.”

“Perhaps you have a hard time surrendering control then?”

Another fidgeting ripple disturbed Soto’s reverie. “I…something like that.”

“Is that why you asked me to hypnotize you, Agent Soto? To surrender control?”

With a jerk, his flustered prey wrenched his gaze away, half-collapsing onto the mattress. Soto panted, his skin gleaming from a light coating of sweat, like he’d just finished running a lap. The tart, candy-apple scent of fear wafted over to Renato, prompting a flood of saliva. Swallowing, he let his lips twist into a smirk.

“That’s a failing grade, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What…?”

“Your tactics could use some work,” Renato continued, uncrossing his legs and rising in one smooth, dignified motion. “Also, I don’t appreciate being subjected to hidden tests. I may not have made the best choices in life, but I’m not so despicable as to ravish someone under the influence either.”

Blinking owlishly but stare quite clear, Soto whipped around to gawp at him. “What do you—”

“Good night, Agent Soto.” He could understand, at last, why Ollie and his reluctant human roommate relished their perches atop a high horse. The rush of victory was amazing as he spun on his heel and strode toward the room’s door.

The sound of grating bedsprings warned him before a hand latched onto the back of his shirt. With a deft turn and shrug, Renato broke the laughable hold on him.

“What the hell—” Soto began.

“I understand the need to hold a grudge.”

“—do you mean—”

“What I don’t get is digging for more reasons to fuel it.”

“—by ravish?”

They stared each other down. Any possibility of hypnosis taking hold tore apart in the clashing currents of hot and cold fury radiating between them.

“I wasn’t testing you,” Soto said, breaking first.

“Oh, really? Please do explain. I’m all ears, as they say.”

“I told you, I want to learn—”

“You’re terrible at lying, Agent Soto. Even to yourself.”

He bristled, the all too familiar defiance setting his jaw and sparking in his eyes. “I’m not—”

Renato whirled and reached for the doorknob.

Weak human fingers scrabbled at him once more. “I don’t know how else to talk to you, all right? And I didn’t think you’d pry into my love life, for fuck’s sake!”

The truth at last. Instead of melting, the rage inside of him expanded, sinking fresh, keen icicles deeper into his chest.

Of course Soto couldn’t simply talk to him. Renato was a bloodborn. Worse, he was an aquila. He wasn’t capable of human mistakes. Or emotions like remorse. At best, he could pretend he was. Wear a charming disguise. Beguile. Lure. Distract. But never offer anything permanent. Never anything real.

“Say something already!” The grip on his shirt tugged. “Don’t give me this silent treatment bullshit.”

Whatever mask had settled over his features made Soto let go and take a step back when he turned.

“Do you want me to make you lose control, Isaac?”

Soto stiffened. It didn’t hide the tremor in his limbs. “You conceited prick.”

“Isaac.” He’d forgotten how good the name felt in his mouth. “It’s a yes or no question.”

Narrowed brown eyes spat death curses at him before darting away again. Soto’s tightened lips parted. No sound came forth. They sealed shut again.

Renato sighed. “You’re a bad liar, but I never took you for a coward when it came to being honest.”

He could have dodged, easily. Instead, he allowed Soto to grab his shoulders and bring their mouths crashing together. Let him decide, too, when to break away and stagger back, chest heaving, stare wide at his own daring.

“That’s not an answer, Isaac.”

“You—!”

Renato slipped one hand around the back of Soto’s head, weaving his fingers into careless black curls but not pulling. Not yet. The other cupped Soto’s jaw, pleasantly rough and raspy from a couple day’s worth of stubble. With his thumb Renato wiped the frown from his lips.

“Yes or no.”

Soto closed his eyes, but it was already too late to hide anything going on behind them. A half-choked swallow made his throat flex in the most enticing way. “I…yes. Yes, okay? I want it.”

It. He wanted it, nothing more. Of course. Still, Renato could do better than a grudging confession.

His hand went from cradling Soto’s face to tearing open his shirt—the shirt always fucking buttoned up to the collar. He should have been a priest, truly. Soto gasped from the sudden violence or the air hitting his exposed shoulder and chest or both. Not giving him a chance to recover, Renato leaned in and started sucking on every bit of bared skin he could get at. Not biting, no, never that again, no matter how much he wanted to chew and rip until Soto’s pulse burst in his mouth like a ripe slice of orange. He only let his throbbing fangs graze over warm flesh, press against it to leave imprints of his teeth behind. Maybe prick it here and there so his tongue could lave over the precious ruby beads of blood afterwards. Savor each tiny shock that shot through him and made the world’s colors scintillate for an instant. Soto threw his arms around Renato to stay standing. Each sharp kiss drew a new, delightful prey noise from him.

He was even more intoxicating than memory served.

Pulling back, Renato inspected his work. Half a dozen little reddish-brown bruises trailed from Soto’s neck and skimmed along just above the curve of his collarbone. A satisfactory start.

“Yes?” Renato prompted again.

Eyes still shut, Soto shivered. “Yes.”

Much, much better. Smiling, Renato guided his willing victim back a pace and shoved him onto the nearest bed.

[whitepolaris]

Bobby Mackey's Music World

Just across the Kentucky border form Cincinnati, in the town of Wilder, lies Bobby Mackey's Music World, a country-western bar and nightclub that some have called Kentucky's most haunted location.

Tre structure was built in the 1850s as a slaughterhouse and a meatpacking plant. The well in the basement, where the blood from the animals was drained, can still be found there. After the slaughterhouse closed, the building became a ritual site for satanists who supposedly sacrificed animals there. The occult group's activities was exposed in 1896 during the spectacular murder trail that made national headlines.

A young woman named Pearl Bryan had an unwanted pregnancy by the son of a minister and sought help from a Cincinnati medical student named Scott Jackson. Jackson, allegedly a member of the Wilder occult group, knew very little about how to terminate her pregnancy and ended up only mutilating the girl horribly. He and the minister's son, Alonzo Walling, would up murdering the girl near the abandoned slaughterhouse-by severing her head, which then disappeared. When the poor girl's body was found, she was identified by her shoes.

The men were eventually caught but never revealed what they had done with the head, though police had their suspicions about the old well in the slaughterhouse basement. The two were offered a deal to avoid being executed if they would reveal its location, yet strangely, they refused and took the secret to their graves.

Apparently, they were far more afraid of the consequences of displeasing Satan than of any threat a mere mortal could make.

During the Kentucky organized crime heyday from the 1920s to the 1970s, the site was inhabited by a number of delightfully sleazy nightclubs, and several other deaths that took place there over the years, including that of a stripper named Johanna who committed suicide on the premises in the late 1930s. In 1978, it became Bobby Mackey's Music World.

Not surprisingly, people have had every type of ghost experience here, from hearing noises and screams to objects being moved and actual sightings. One ghost is apparently especially fond of playing the "Anniversary Waltz" on the jukebox, which plays itself without coins-sometimes even without electricity!

Music World has an honored place in the sphere of ghost lore. In his book Sinister Forces: The Nine, occult researcher Peter Levenda reports that "in 1991, there was an exorcism of a nightclub in Wilder, Kentucky. . . . Claude Lawson claimed that the owner of Music World, Bobby Mackey, was running a haunted establishment and that he had been attacked by evil spirits during the time he worked (and lived) there as a caretaker." Another author, Douglas Hensley, has self-published a book about Mackey's called Hell's Gate, and has in his possession at least twenty-nine sworn affidavits of witnesses (including clergy and police) to ghostly phenomena. And still another book, No Rest for the Wicked, by Troy Taylor, makes a connection between this case and that of a haunted house in Greencastle, Indiana, where the unfortunate Pearl Bryon grew up.

At least one person has claimed to have become possessed himself after visiting the place, and another filed a lawsuit claiming to have been attacked by a ghost in the restroom.

[aspenmissing]

𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Theo and Dean are at a computer and Sam is looking at some things posted on a bulletin board.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asks.

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database-at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me”.

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town."

"I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So, unless you got a better idea-"

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern," Sam says.

"I know, I was thinking the same thing."

"With mister Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run"

"Both had secrets where people died," Theo says.

"Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them”.

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you for it" Dean says.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not"

"Take a look at this" Sam looks at a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. Dean prints out another picture and hands it to Sam. The picture is of a handprint and the letters ‘Tre’

"Looks like the same handprint.

"Her name was Mary Worthington- an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Theo says.

==

"I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder-that one still gets me”.

"What exactly happened?"

"You three said you were reporters."

"We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, and dreamt of getting out of Indiana, and being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife" Theo says.

"That's right"

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened" The detective pulls some files out of a file cabinet.

"Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this" He opens a file to the picture Sam, Dean and Theo found on the computer "Now see that there? T-R-E"

"Yeah"

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

"You know who it was?"

"Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon- Trevor Sampson" The detective pulls out a picture of a man "And I think he cut her up good”.

"Now why would he do something like that?" Theo asks.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, "T". Well, in her last entry, she was gonna tell "T"'s wife about their affair”.

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?"

"It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional."

"But you could prove it?" Dean says.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous”.

"Is he still alive?" Dean asks.

"Nope" The detective sits down and sighs "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could"

"Where's she buried?" Sam asks.

"She wasn't. She was cremated”.

"What about the mirror," Dean says nodding at the one in the picture "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?"

"Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago”.

"You have the names of her family by any chance?" Sam asks.

==

Dean, Theo, and Sam are driving down the road. Sam s on his cell phone.

"Oh really? Ah, that's too bad Mr Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks" Sam hangs up.

"So?"

"So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo"

"So, wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Theo says.

"Her spirits definitely tied up with it somehow."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Dean says.

"Yeah, there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped”.

"So, Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit"

"Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" Sam asks.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I saw we find it and smash it"

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe" Sam's phone rings and he answer it "Hello" The look of concern comes across his face again "Charlie?"

==

Charlie is sitting on the bed with her head on her knees. Sam, Dean and Theo have all of the curtains drawn shut, and are throwing sheets over the mirrors, or facing them to the wall or floor. Sam then goes to sit next to Charlie.

"Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?" Charlie looks up slowly”.

"But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No. No. Not anytime soon" Theo says, sitting on the bed next to Charlie, and then is followed by Dean.

"All right Charlie. We need to know what happened" Dean says.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said"

"That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?"

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me, and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said, "Go ahead. And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have" Charlie puts her face back on her knees and starts crying again.

==

"You know her boyfriend killing herself, that's not Charlie's fault," Dean says as they drive in the rain.

"You know as well as I do spirits don't exactly see shades of grey, Dean. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary”.

"I guess"

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror”.

"Why, what do you mean?" Theo asks.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it" Sam replies.

"Well how do you know that's going to work."

"I don't, not for sure"

"I will. She'll come after me" Sam says, Theo tightens her hold on the steering wheel.

"You know what, that's it.” She pulls over before turning around to Sam with a stern look. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? Do you think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night-it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me-It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me or Dean? I mean We’re the one that dragged you away from her in the first place" she says.

"I don't blame you," Sam says looking at Theo.

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done," Dean says.

"I could've warned her."

"About what? You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway”.

"No, you don't"

"I don't what?" Theo says.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you two everything”.

"What are you talking about?" Dean says.

"Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam replies.

"No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it" Dean says, looking surprised.

"Dean, Theo that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this”.

==

Once the three were at the ship, Sam is trying t pick the lock on the door. It opens and they see many mirrors are in the shop.

"Well...that's just great," Dean says as he pulls out the picture of Mary's dead body to look at the mirror "All right let's start looking" They split up and walk around the store and they see a flashlight that seems to be part of an alarm "Maybe they've already sold it" Sam flashlight stops on the mirror.

"I don't think so" Dean and Theo walk over to him and Dean pulls out the picture again to compare, confirming that it's the correct mirror.

"That's it" Theo sighs "You sure about this?" Sam hands her a flashlight. Sam sighs.

"Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary " Sam looks at his older siblings, who both give him an unsure look back. Sam picks up the crowbar "Bloody Mary" Dean turns to see a light coming through the store, he nudges Theo, who also looks.

"We'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful" Sam readies the crowbar again "Smash anything that moves" Dean and Theo crawl away towards the front door, where they see a headlight "Crap" Dean puts the crossbar down and begins to walk to the door. Sam hears a breath, so he turns to look at a different mirror. Dean and Theo are now outside, facing the police.

"Hold it"

"Whoa guys, false alarm, we tripped the system," Dean says.

"Who are you?"

"We're the boss's kids," Theo says.

"You're Mister Yamashiro's kid?" Back in the shop, Sam sees Mary in a different mirror now, he sees her there out of the corner of his eye and smashes the mirror with the crowbar. She is in a different one now, and he sees her and smashed that mirror too. He is not back facing her mirror.

"Come on. Come into this one" Sam looks oddly at his reflection, which has now taken a mind of its own. Sam starts having trouble breathing and has a trickle of blood coming out of his eye. He drops the crowbar and grabs his chest.

"It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jess”. Back outside, Dean and Theo are still talking to the cops, trying to persuade them into leaving them alone.

"As I said, we were adopted," Dean says.

"Yeah" Dean and Theo are being covered back and front by two cops.

"You know, I just-we really don't have time for this right now" Theo punches the cop in front of her, while Dean backhands the other, then punches the same cop. They are now on the ground.

"You never told her the truth-who you were" Sam is now falling towards the ground "But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning-You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!" Dean's crowbar goes through the mirror. Theo bends down to the floor to Sam.

"Sam, Sammy!" Dean comes down next to them.

"It's Sam" Theo smiles, shaking her head. Putting their foreheads together.

"God, are you okay?" Dean says, noticing the blood on Sam's eye.

"Uh, yeah"

"Come on, come on" He pulls Sam up. He puts Sam's arm over his neck, Theo doing the same with his other arm, and they begin to walk out until Mary comes out of the frame of the picture. They turn to see her crawling over the broken glass. Mary walks towards them and the three fall to the ground. They start bleeding from the face, but Theo reaches up and pulls over a mirror so that Mary is forced to see her reflection.

"You killed them! All those people! You killed them!" Mary starts choking to death and melts into a pile of blood. Theo throws down the mirror she held, and it shatters.

"Hey, Sam? Dean?"

"Yeah?" They say in unison.

"This had got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?" Sam and Dean chuckle weakly.

==

Theo, Sam, and Dean are driving the car with Charlie in the back next to Theo. They pull up in front of a house.

"So, this is really over?" Dean nods.

"Yeah, it's over."

"Thank you" Dean reaches back to shake her hand, while she and Theo hug. She then gets out of the car.

"Charlie?" Charlie turns around "Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen" Charlie smiles faintly, then turns around to go into the house. Dean gently hits Sam in the arm.

"That's good advice" They drive off.

"Hey, Sam?" Theo says and he turns to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

"Look...you're my sister and brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself" Sam looks out the window and sees Jessica in a white dress on the street corner standing next to a light pole, as they turn the corner she disappears behind the pole and isn't seen again.

[ibarrau]

[Azure] Pause Resume Fabric, Embedded o AAS con SimplePBI

Hace un poco más de un mes que Fabric llegó y no para de causar revuelo. La posibilidad de una capacidad con todas las características de Premium y más pero al estilo pay as you go como lo es Power Bi Embedded me parece excelente.

En este artículo voy a hablar de la última actualización de la librería de Python SimplePBI que permite Pausar y/o Resumir los recursos de Bi. Si usan Analysis services, PowerBi Embedded o Fabric y les gustaría ahorrar cuando las herramientas no se usan, entonces este código nos ayudará a ejecutar la acción. Luego podemos ver como agregarlo a un schedule en Azure para que se automático.

Pre-Requisitos

Lo primero que necesitas son dos prerequisitos. 

1- La versión 0.1.4 de SimplePBI o superior. En esa versión incorporaron la clase azpause que nos ayudará. Para actualizarla pueden usar pip:

pip install simplepbi --upgrade

2- Una App Registrada en Azure con secreto creado para usar como Service Principal. Copiaremos el Tenant Id, Client o App Id y Secret generado.

Ejecución 

Para iniciar vamos a ir a nuestro recurso de Azure (Fabric, PBI Embedded o AAS) y daremos permiso en el control de accesos (IAM) al Service Principal (App Registrada) como “Contributor”. Este permiso le dará posibilidad de ejecutar acciones como prendido y apagado. A partir de ese momento seremos libres de ejecutar el sencillo código.

from simplepbi import azpause # Initialize the object authenticating Azure azure = azpause.Azpause(TENANT_ID, client_id, client_secret) # Run method of the object for pause or resume azure.resume_resource(subscriptionId, resourceGroupName, resourceType, resourceName) azure.pause_resource(subscriptionId, resourceGroupName, resourceType, resourceName)

Así de simple con tres líneas. Importar librería, autenticar creando objeto y llamar el método del objeto especificando valores que podemos copiar del “Overview” del recurso:

suscriptionId: el id de la suscripción, no del tenant.

resourceGroupName: nombre del grupo de recursos donde creamos el recurso

resourceType: tipo de recurso, recibe uno de tres valores posibles “FABRIC”, “PBI” o “AAS”

resourceName: nombre del servidor AAS o la capacidad Fabric/Embedded

Enlace al repo con su doc: https://github.com/ladataweb/SimplePBI/blob/main/AzPauseResume.md

Automatizarlo en Azure

Uno de los mejores usos de esa acción es programar la ejecución de dichas líneas conociendo las brechas de tiempo en que no se usan. Para ello podemos hacerlo de manera local con Windows Schedule o en Azure para no depender de una VM. Dentro de Azure hay diversos servicios, podríamos usar por ejemplo Azure Functions. En mi caso voy a mostrar el ejemplo con una cuenta de Automation creando un Runbook.

En el portal de Azure crearemos una cuenta de automatización o en ingles Automation Account. El código que usaremos estará en Python 3.8. Una vez creada la cuenta busquemos la opción Python Packages donde agregaremos la librería:

Para agregar la librería primero descargaremos el archivo Wheel de SimplePBI. Pueden encontrarlo en: https://pypi.org/project/SimplePBI/#files

Con el archivo descargado basta con seleccionar “Add a Python Package” con signo +. Tras añadir el archivo “whl” debería reconocer el nombre y ustedes seleccionen 3.8 en la versión de python

Todo esto es para poder importar simplepbi en el código de nuestro runbook. Luego de cargar la librería, que puede tardar varios minutos, crearemos un runbook en el menú de la izquierda dentro de la cuenta de automatización

El ejemplo lo haremos con el Pausado. El código sería igual para el Resumir el servicio solo que cambiaría el último método. Creado nos guiará a una interfaz para comenzar a escribir nuestro código Python. Esto sería bastante sencillo. Algo así:

Sin embargo, recordemos que exponer claves en código es una falta de seguridad grave. Entonces lo mejor sería crear un Azure KeyVault para guardar nuestros secretos o IDs y que no queden expuestos. Para ello basta con crear el recurso KeyVault, añadir su cuenta como Key Vault Administrator y crear el secreto. Si quieren conocer más sobre esto pueden buscar ejemplos o seguir el training: https://learn.microsoft.com/en-us/training/modules/configure-and-manage-azure-key-vault/

Si usan KeyVaults se vería así:

Guardar y publicar. Luego podemos darle play para ver que todo funcione correctamente.

Lo último que haremos será calendarizar la corrida del script. Si ya conocemos el uso del recurso sabremos sus tiempos y horarios. Puede ser que se apague de noche o los fines de semana. Para ello, vamos al runbook y nos fijamos en el menú “Schedule” y seguimos las indicaciones de la imagen:

De ese modo podemos configurar corridas recurrentes del código para asegurarnos que todo esté en orden.

Así es como terminamos de construir nuestra Pausa de Fabric, PowerBi Embedded o Azure Analysis Services usan SimplePBI. Seguramente haría falta que repitan el proceso para “Resumir” el recurso de manera que prenda cuando necesiten usarlo.

[kdpinterior]

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browse Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter to find a freelance designer who works with other authors. 5. Emphasize covers and interior design. The quickest way to a one-star review is an ugly book cover or interior. When your print book format is a mess, Amazon's visitors will move on to the next competitor. Don’t gloss over this step. There is a lot of software, like Canva, Photoshop, or Illustrator, that allows you to format your book and make it look professional. You can also outsource your formatting to an expert. In our case, the Diabetes Tracker is already formatted for KDP, so you will save a lot of time and money. 6. Adjust Prices for International Markets When you publish a journal or planner on Amazon KDP, make sure that you adjust the price accordingly .99 : This is a marketing psychology that works on any markets. If KDP adjusts the price automatically for other markets, You can manually change it to international prices, however. You can add a .99 to the end of each price for each currency. And keep your eyes on royalty rates. You should also monitor the pricing boundaries for 30% and 70% royalties for each currency. 7. Becoming an Affiliate for Your Own Book Promote affiliate links for your own book and earn 70% royalties! Use your Amazon affiliate link on social media, website links, and anywhere else you can think of. Your amazon affiliate link allows you to earn additional 4% on the selling price of your book. It seems like not much, but that additional 4% can add up quickly with enough sales. Keep in mind that you only get this income when someone buys through your affiliate Amazon link, not from Amazon's search box. Finally, make Amazon KDP your friend; Using tips and tricks like these can assist you in succeeding on Amazon KDP.

[maxxmmorg]

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[duca-66]

Falklands-Malvinas, torna la tensione fra Regno Unito e Argentina: sulle navi da guerra inglesi del 1982 c’erano 31 armi nucleari

Emerge da un archivio declassificato di Londra: 18 armi nucleari erano sulla portaerei britannica Hms Hermes, 12 sulla portaerei Invincible. Lo scorso 24 dicembre il premier britannico Boris Johnson ha ribadito che il 2022 segnerà “l’anniversario dell’invasione, occupazione e liberazione delle nostre isole”

Le Falklands da una parte, le Malvinas dall’altra. Sono le stesse ma a separarle c’è un oceano. A 40 anni dalla guerra che vide contrapposti gli eserciti britannico e argentino, tra Londra e Buenos Aires torna la tensione sulle isole dell’Atlantico meridionale, contese da Regno Unito e Argentina. Proprio mentre da un archivio declassificato di Londra emerge che le navi da guerra schierate nel 1982 dall’allora premier Margaret Thatcher contenevano ben 31 armi nucleari. Una riedizione del conflitto (stavolta solo in senso figurato) che in questi giorni sta occupando le cronache dei due Paesi. L’Argentina, infatti, rivendica la sovranità sulle Malvinas, arcipelago occupato nel 1833 dal Regno Unito e oggi territorio d’oltremare britannico. Il Regno Unito, dal canto suo, non ha alcuna intenzione di rinunciare all’arcipelago che chiama Falklands, così come alla Georgia del Sud, alle Sandwich Australi e agli spazi marittimi circostanti. Tra i due litiganti, le Nazioni Unite che considerano i luoghi del contendere “territori non autonomi” e sostengono i negoziati tra Regno Unito e Argentina.

Lunedì 3 gennaio, a 189 anni dall’occupazione britannica, il governo argentino ha ricordato “l’usurpazione” del 1833, rinnovando la richiesta di ripristinare la “sovranità argentina” sui territori contesi. A partire dal presidente Alberto Fernández, che ha lanciato l’ ”Agenda 40 anni Malvinas” per commemorare i caduti durante la guerra. Il 2 aprile 1982, infatti, il generale Leopoldo Galtieri, all’epoca presidente della giunta militare argentina, tentò l’incursione armata per recuperare le isole perdute. I britannici, pur colti di sorpresa, organizzarono il contrattacco e vinsero la guerra, terminata il 14 giugno dello stesso anno. Con 255 vittime tra le fila britanniche e 649 tra quelle argentine, oltre a tre civili. Un’ostilità che quattro anni più tardi, ai quarti di finale dei Mondiali in Messico, la ‘mano de Dios’ di Diego Armando Maradona riportò in auge, prendendosi una rivincita sul campo di calcio. Le richieste del presidente Fernández? La ripresa dei negoziati interrotti dal predecessore Mauricio Macri “per giungere a una soluzione pacifica”, come incoraggiato dalla risoluzione Onu 2065 del 1965 e da altri consessi internazionali. Richieste sempre respinte dal Regno Unito, nonostante le sollecitazioni dell’Onu e il diritto internazionale. Anzi, proprio in occasione degli auguri natalizi, lo scorso 24 dicembre il premier britannico Boris Johnson è tornato sull’argomento, ribadendo che il 2022 segnerà “l’anniversario dell’invasione, occupazione e liberazione delle nostre isole”. Non proprio un messaggio conciliante. Con una battuta sarcastica, poi, lo stesso Johnson ha affermato che “persino la Federazione internazionale di tennis da tavolo (…) ha confermato recentemente di considerare i giocatori delle Falklands come britannici”. Dichiarazioni, inutile dirlo, che hanno gettato benzina sul fuoco, provocando la reazione di Buenos Aires (“retorica ostile e guerrafondaia”). Proprio a proposito di guerra, da Londra emerge una novità che potrebbe generare imbarazzo: le navi da guerra schierate dall’allora premier britannica Margaret Thatcher trasportavano 31 armi nucleari. Una rivelazione uscita sul sito Declassified UK, che ha svelato un nuovo documento declassificato e pubblicato negli Archivi nazionali del Regno Unito. Come emerso dal file ‘Top Secret Atomic’, 18 armi nucleari erano sulla portaerei britannica Hms Hermes, 12 sulla portaerei Invincible (dove prese servizio il principe Andrew) e una sulla nave ausiliaria della flotta reale Regent. Una presenza ingombrante che, come rivelato da Richard Norton Taylor, giornalista investigativo britannico, provocò “il panico” tra i funzionari britannici, spaventati dai danni che sarebbero potuti derivare da un incidente e dalla conoscenza pubblica dello stesso. Già nel 2003, in realtà, il ministero della Difesa britannico aveva ammesso la presenza di armi atomiche durante la guerra delle Falklands, ma finora non si sapeva quante fossero, né si conoscevano ulteriori dettagli, come il contenzioso che contrappose il ministero della Difesa e quello degli Esteri.

Fonte Fatto Quotidiano.

40 anni fa, il 2 aprile 1982 scoppiava la guerra delle Falklands.

Se i miei soldati cominciassero a pensare, nessuno rimarrebbe nelle mie file

(Federico II, Re di Prussia)

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 6

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, death mention

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Thank you for being so patient 🥺 School+job interviews have been kinda crazy for the last few weeks. But now I’m on spring break AND got an internship, so hopefully the coming chapters will be up soon. Enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t mind picking up Missy? I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

Erin laughed softly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m turning into the school parking lot already, babe. I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to spend time with Missy.”

Her boyfriend let out a sign of relief on the other end of the call. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it a couple times,” she replied, pulling up to the pickup line. When she spotted Missy, she waved her over. Her heart soared as the little girl’s face lit up like the sun. “I should let you get back to work. I’ll bring her back to your place, so don’t worry about stopping by my apartment, ok?”

“Okay, honey.” A pause. “Thank you for taking care of my baby. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably run around frantically,” she teased, unlocking the car doors so Missy could climb into the back seat. “Now go save the world, Marcus. I’ll see you at home in a few hours.”

After that, she hung up and turned around in her seat to greet Missy, who was already buckled up. “Ready to go home?”

The little girl nodded. “Will you stay for dinner tonight? We haven’t had a night with all three of us in a while.”

Erin laughed softly, pulling out of the pickup line. “Missy, sweetie, I stayed over this past weekend! But yes, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Can you stay forever, then?”

Well, that was unexpected. Yes, she’d become an integral part of the Morenos’ lives, but she never thought Missy would want her around all the time. Surely she missed her mom, or missed having free reign around the house with just Marcus as her parent figure. She couldn’t be that important, could she?

Part of her couldn’t help but melt at Missy’s request. For a long time, she’d wanted to find someplace that she could call home–a place where she could live, appreciate, and be appreciated in return. It would’ve been a lie to say that she never thought of a life with the Morenos, but she knew that it was more complicated than her late-night fantasy made it out to be. She couldn’t just barge into their lives.

The drive to Marcus’s house was muscle memory at that point, the turns of her wheel well-practiced. After their first date, they’d gone on two more. And while neither of them had gone much further than needy kisses, she couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him. He was worth it. He was worth everything.

Missy bounced on the balls of her feet as Erin fished out the house key from her purse, bounding into the house the moment the door was unlocked. “If I finish my homework early, can we bake something?”

“Maybe,” she mused, setting her shoes on the shoe rack by Missy’s. After locking the front door, she walked into the main family and dining area. “What did you have in mind?”

“Can we make a tres leches cake?” Missy asked, looking up at her with innocent eyes. “I asked dad, but he said no.”

Erin chuckled and sat down in the chair next to her. “That’s probably for a good reason, sweetie. We just finished a cake roll the other day, so maybe we can bake it this weekend. Instead, we can have ice cream today.”

The girl sighed and shrugged. “Okay, it was worth a shot.” She frowned as she read over her english homework. “Parts...of speech? I don’t remember learning any of this in class. Can you help me? Pleeeease, Erin?”

Humming in confirmation, she set down the file she was reading and turned so she could read the homework sheet better. “Ah, I remember learning this in school. It’s not too bad, it’s just that the names are a little weird. Let’s see…”

They worked on the homework together, Erin explaining the concepts and asking Missy to give her examples of everything from verbs to nouns. She tried not to think about what it would be like to spend more afternoons and evenings helping her little girl with homework. It was a long way off, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

She was explaining the difference between nouns and proper nouns when Missy mentioned, “You know, dad used to have a different name.”

Erin raised a dark brow, surprised at how nonchalantly the girl had made the comment. “Really, now?” It probably shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise–didn’t most superheroes have codenames, or secret identities?

Missy nodded. “Well, I think so. I remember when I was little, sometimes he would write Marcus Pike on my permission slips instead of Moreno. Then he’d have to cross it out and fix it. Silly, right?”

Erin froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. Her Marcus...was Marcus? “Oh...that is silly. I wonder why he changed it.”

It didn’t make sense. Marcus Pike disappeared nearly a decade ago, and as far as she knew, he wasn’t affiliated with the Heroics. And he certainly couldn’t have a daughter that was in second grade.

Or could he?

But if he was the Marcus Moreno, then why did he need to have a fake identity? More importantly, why didn’t he tell her that he was Marcus Pike? Even if it was a codename, it didn’t matter once they met. Unless...he didn’t want her to know.

Maybe he didn’t want to be found;  because if she was anything to him, why didn’t he look for her? Why didn’t he try to contact her?

The air turned cold. Breathing slowly through her nose, she sat back and opened her laptop. She scrolled through the reports of Marcus Pike’s disappearance. There was nothing on him except some anecdotes and some text messages between coworkers. There was no address, no email, no mention of his name online. He’d very much disappeared. No one, not even her best agents, could find any trace of him after that winter day eight years ago.

Sighing, she switched gears and pulled up as much information as she could find about Marcus Moreno. She didn’t like the feeling of prying into his life, but she had to know. It didn’t make sense: if Marcus Pike existed for years within the FBI, what was Marcus Moreno up to? Did he disappear too?

Her hands shook as she clicked on the website of the Heroics and went to Marcus’s page. Unlike most of the other heroes, he didn’t have a codename. Why was that?

She paused at his photo, gaze softening slightly. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, he did look a lot like Marcus Pike. He had the same furrow between his brows, the same nose. They were the same height as well, which she’d noticed as her body fit perfectly against him.

They–he?–both knew her coffee order like the back of their–his?–hand, and knew exactly how to comfort her when the stress from work became too much. He called her the same pet names, her favorite being….honeydew.

Shit.

Only one person ever called her “honeydew.”

She was terrified as she scrolled down.

The first appearance of Marcus Moreno as a member of the Heroics was eight years ago.

How could she have been so blind? He was right in front of her the entire time, and she never noticed. She built her entire reputation on remembering details and noticing everything, and she couldn’t pick up on the clues. Who else would call her “honeydew,” hug her like it had been years, and want to take the relationship slow?

It was too much.

Not wanting Missy to worry, Erin got up from the table and locked herself in the bathroom before letting the tears fall.

Why did he have to go?

Why didn’t he tell her?

Why didn’t he come back?

---

Erin only let a few tears fall before gathering herself again. She couldn’t let Missy know the truth, not yet. She had to be strong for her, just as she had to be strong for her team when every lead turned into a dead end. So much time had passed since she last had any hope of seeing Marcus again; part of her didn’t want to believe it. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny it anymore: Marcus Moreno was Marcus Pike. He was alive and well, and happy.

The least she could do was be happy for him.

But it didn’t soften the blow on her pride.

Dinner was a quieter affair than usual. She couldn’t bring herself to talk more than a couple sentences at a time, for fear of something slipping out. Maybe it was better that way. Marcus obviously didn’t want to deal with the effects of disappearing, so why should she make an effort to find closure?

That was another thing, she realized. If he really was Marcus Pike, then would she ever get closure? Would she ever get to truly move on from the one person she could never have?

Once Missy went upstairs to get ready for bed, the silence grew deafening. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how.

Marcus must’ve sensed something was off, because his brows furrowed just slightly. He came up and leaned against the counter, watching as she transferred the leftovers into tupperware containers. “What’s wrong?”

Erin sighed. Part of her didn’t want to confront him and destroy the little bubble of happiness surrounding them, but she needed answers. If he reacted badly….maybe he wouldn’t be the one. Resigned, she asked, “Why did you lie to me, brown eyes?”

A blanket of silence settled in the kitchen.

His eyes widened. “W-what do you mean?”

Fighting back tears, she asked, “Why did you let me think you were dead, Pike? I-” She covered her face with her hands, eyes clenched shut. “I searched for you, but you were gone!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes glistening. “I should’ve told you.”

As she started trembling, he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen her cry. His honeydew was crying because of him.

“I just wanted my best friend back,” she said. Facing him, she asked, “Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I supposed to live the rest of my life feeling guilty that I was moving on from the love of my life?”

Marcus felt like he’d been punched. She…wanted him since the beginning? “Your...what? Honeydew, I-”

She stepped back as he reached for her. His heart broke as she shook her head and said firmly, “No. You don’t get to call me that. I don’t….I don’t even know who you are.”

“Okay,” he said softly, taking off his glasses. Tears dripped down his face as he faced her. “Let me introduce myself. Completely. My name is Marcus Moreno. We met when I was hiding under an alias: Marcus Pike.”

He told her about his family, and his involvement with the Heroics early on in his life. His mother, Anita Moreno, was one of the original heroes in the organization. As the Heroics grew more prominent and began working with the government, he needed to change his name–while his mother wanted to help the world, he just wanted a normal life. He wanted to go to school, make friends, and have a family someday.  With the status that came with being a Moreno, he couldn’t do any of that without putting his loved ones in danger. So, with the help of the Heroics, he changed his identity to Marcus Pike.

Most of his adult life, including university, was spent as Marcus Pike. His failed marriage had Marcus Pike written on the certificate. Even when he worked for the FBI, he was documented as Marcus Pike; no one knew who he was, not when new people were being cycled in and out of the workplace.

After moving to DC and having his engagement with Teresa Lisbon broken off, he gave up. He contacted his mother, got involved with the Heroics again, and had his identity erased so he could take over as the leader of the Heroics.

“But that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell me,” she said, frowning. “Is the difference between Marcus Pike and Marcus Moreno so big that it would affect our relationship?”

Marcus sighed. “Do you really want to know?” When she nodded, he confessed, “I didn’t tell you because...I didn’t want to lose you.”

Her gaze softened. “What?”

“I was afraid that if you saw me as Marcus Pike, you’d  only ever see me as a friend,” he explained. “And he is me…. But the way you looked at Marcus Moreno was all I ever wanted. It was everything I wished I could have back and more. The most painful part of leaving Pike behind was losing you. It was losing the chance to tell you how I felt, and to see where we could’ve gone together.” He stepped closer, and this time she didn’t flinch away when he touched her. “It was selfish, I know. I’m sorry. But I promise you, Erin, my honeydew, my feelings for you are real. They always were. No amount of name changes and secret identities can change that.”

Unable to stop herself, Erin threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

He held her close and stroked her hair, basking in her warmth. “I missed you too.”

“You’re an idiot, though,” she said, clinging to him as if he would disappear if she let go. “I would’ve said yes whether or not you were Pike.”

“But?”

“But, that doesn’t mean I’m not mad,” she said. A wave of humiliation crashed over her. “If you were anyone else, I’d be gone.”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad, and I don’t blame you if you want some space.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she said softly, wincing as her head started throbbing. “I...I want space, but I’m afraid I'll lose you again. I’m mad, but I’m also….glad that my best friend is alive and well.”

“You can stay for the night, if you want,” Marcus offered, searching her gold-flecked eyes. He braced himself for the rejection, for her to scoff and storm out of his house. But it never happened.

Once everything was put away in the kitchen, they made their way up to his bedroom and got ready for bed. Sharing the bathroom as they brushed their teeth and washed their faces felt odd. Why did it feel like they’d been robbed of years of their life?

He didn’t regret marrying his late wife–no, never–but the more he and Erin spent time together, the more aware he was of just how much things could’ve been different. Everything he had was because he couldn’t tell a woman he loved her eight years ago.

Nestled against him, Erin sighed. “You don’t have to go with me on the undercover op. This job...it’s important and I can’t afford to be distracted.”

He shook his head. “No, I promised you I’d go. Everything will be alright, honey.” The familiar weight of her body against his soothed his nerves, even after everything. “I’m sorry we lost so much time. I’ll make it up to you.”

Erin didn’t respond.

< previous chapter | next chapter >

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[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 7

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), use of sex toys, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, minor D/s elements, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is in the hot seat with your friends as they ask their questions. Taking you all to brunch, Tre does well. But he also has some ideas about punishment that you weren't prepared for.

Word Count: 4,671k

A/N: I heard it was our favorite Mr. Black's birthday yesterday! I wanted to post this yesterday, but well, had to work around my family. The focus was on these two, so no updates about the company thief. Will they be found out in the next chapter? Dun-Dun! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 - Completed

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“Sir, please!” You moaned. You stood by your front door, hands on the wall and ass tucked out. Tre had your panties half down your legs and was aggressively fingering you. His fingers flicked over your clit and you were a fidgety mess. You twitched and jerked and quivered. Your legs were jelly. 

There was a small mirror in the foyer area and you bent your head back to look at Tre. He lifted his eyes at the same time and licked his lips. You groaned. “Pleeease,” you moaned. 

“I decided that I was still a little hurt that you hadn’t told your friends about me,” Tre said. 

“I apologized for that!” You said. Your wedges were wobbling so badly that you thought your ankle would give out. 

“I know. But I didn’t punish you properly for it,” he said. 

“Oh god. Oh god,” you chanted. 

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” he said. 

“Shit!” You cried out. You were close. Entirely too close and you didn’t know how much longer you could last. Your moans increased in volume and Tre slowed down. “Nooo!” 

Tre chuckled and grabbed the vibrator from the table behind him. He moved it in your essence, rolling the vibrator around your dripping pussy and then slowly pushed it in. He fucked you with it. The vibrations drew a ragged moan from your lips. 

You sniffled, runaway tears leaking down your face. Your friends were gonna worry about you if it looked like you had been crying for different reasons. It was already difficult to get through this lunch in one piece. Now you had to do it with a vibrator in your pussy controlled by Tre. 

“Sir, please,” you cried. 

Tre sighed and pushed the vibrator inside. He leaned down and kissed both of your cheeks and then stood up, replacing your panties. He turned the vibrator off and pulled you into a standing position. He fixed your dress and turned you around to face him.

He looked edible in a black sweater and black jeans. His black boots were laced up and you knew he also wore black socks. One of these days, you would ask why he loved the color so much. You had your favorite color too, but to exclusively wear it? You didn’t know if you could. 

He kissed your cheeks and smiled at you. “I’ll wait if you need to fix your makeup. But I think you look sexy as fuck like this,” he said. 

He licked his fingers and you watched his mouth work up and down as he licked up every drop of your arousal. You turned around slowly and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your teary eyes smudged your makeup a little, but not in an obvious way. It gave you a mysterious misty look that was pretty hot.

“This is so unfair,” you said and sniffled, walking towards the bathroom to grab tissue and blow your nose. You should put on flats or sandals. There was no way you’re walking in wedges like this. But you knew Tre would be upset. He loved the way heels made your legs look. 

You walked back to the front door. You grabbed your purse and Tre let you leave first. He drove to the brunch spot that you were meeting your friends at. Your stomach roiled thinking of this meeting. This blending of your two lives. It was killing you. 

You expected to get the third degree from your friends. You were prepared for that. You were not prepared for how Tre would act. Would he be upset at their questions? Cavalier? Your friends were known for being wild.

Tre didn’t seem like he belonged in your world. Down with the regular folk and people trying to get by. He seemed larger than life. Like he existed on an entirely new plane of existence. 

“You’ll be alright,” he said. He kissed your cheek as he let you out of the car and held your hand as you walked to the entrance. A host there asked for the reservation name. Tre made it under his and soon you were seen to a table. You were the first to arrive so you ordered drinks for the table, knowing exactly what your girls wanted. Maybe if they saw the free drinks, they’d be a little nicer to Tre. 

You already told them to be nice several times in the group chat. But those bitches liked to have selective hearing. 

Your fingers tapped on the table as you kept looking behind you for your friends. You couldn’t even look over the menu. 

The vibrator coming to life made you shriek and jump in your seat. “Hey!” You whispered to Tre. 

The place was jumping with a lot of people who had the same idea. New and interesting dishes were coming out of the back like strawberry shortcake pancakes and fish ‘n grits. You looked around as if people could hear the vibrator going off. You placed your hand on the booth seat to see if it was vibrating. 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Tre said. He sipped on a mimosa and placed his arm behind you in the booth. He had rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and then your mind started drifting. Thinking of when he’d finally allow you to cum. You’d have to work out a rule against claiming punishment after something had already been negotiated. If he could change his mind at any moment, you’d have to get something in return. 

“I know,” you said. 

“I’ve already spoken to Ka’ron and she was nothing but nice,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s that twin sign in her. Don’t let it fool you,” you said. 

Moments later, your friends Ka’ron and Sasha, approached the table. Both were stunning in casual outfits that complimented their skin tone. Ka’ron kept it simple in a jumpsuit while Sasha wore a dress like you. 

Already, they had matching looks of disapproval. Tre scooted out of the booth and held his hand out. He introduced himself and shook both of their hands. “Please, have a seat,” he said.

Sasha broke first, looking at you with a knowing smirk. But she schooled her features and eyed Tre up and down. Ka’ron was harder to read. You had no idea what they talked about when Tre called her with an outlandish request.

Sasha scooted in and took her place while Ka’ron sat at the end. Tre sat back in the booth and kept his eyes trained on Ka’ron. It was like they were two prizefighters sizing each other up. Who was going to break first? Who was going to swing first? 

Sasha got your attention and mouthed, “Damn”. You smiled, appreciating that she acknowledged that you did pretty fucking well all things considered. 

“Well, now that we all know each other. Let’s look at these menus,” you said. You picked yours up and tapped a random item. Nutella pancakes. Ehh. 

Ka’ron and Tre were still staring each other down. Your friend had a perfect bitch face. Tre only had a small smile on his face like he was enjoying this. 

“I’m glad you found the place, okay,” Tre said. You sighed, thankful that he broke first. 

“Almost didn’t. The place is completely black on the outside,” Ka’ron said. 

“Part of the charm I think. No one outside gawking,” Tre said. 

“I got your favorite drinks,” you said, trying to break through some of the tension between them. Ka’ron melted a little, grabbing her mimosa and sipping it. 

Sasha accepted her Tequila Sunrise with a happy smile. “Okay! They made a good one,” she said. 

“So how did you two meet? You said you’d explain, so start,” Ka’ron said, finally turning her attention to you. 

You sighed and began, telling them that you met him while at work. It was hard for you to explain that he was both your boss and your boyfriend. Sasha’s eyes bugged out.

“Bitch, you been fuckin’ the boss and ain’t said shit?” 

“It kind of just happened,” you said.

“Did you trip in your heels and fall on his dick without no panties on?” Sasha asked.

You slapped her shoulder. “Stop it,” you said. When you got with your friends, none of you had a filter. You didn’t care where you were or who was listening. You told all your wildest sex stories to each other and horrible date incidents. Sasha was in a relationship and her boyfriend’s filthy mouth matched hers. Some of their texts made even you blush.

Ka’ron had a revolving door of lovers. Once she got bored, it was time to move on. She didn’t believe in being tied down to just one person and you respected her for it. It was much braver to admit that not everyone needed a partner. That it was okay to want to be alone. 

Tre laughed at your friends but shook his head. “That was my fault,” Tre said and looked at you.

Your food was delivered by a charming young Black woman who passed out each dish. You ended up with the fish ‘n grits, a fried lobster tail on top. 

You finished explaining yourself to your friends. Ka’ron looked at Tre. “You must be special then,” she said and her icy exterior melted a fraction.

“What makes you say that?” Tre asked.

“She gets extremely private when she actually likes someone,” Sasha said.

“Do not!” You said. 

Tre looked at you and turned the vibrator back on with a grin. Sinister bastard. You looked at your friends to see if they could tell that you had a vibrator inside you right now. Maybe you were a good actress. Or maybe they were too busy focusing on their meal and Tre’s responses than to pay attention to you slowly dying. 

“How many guys has she been quiet about?” He asked.

“Two. Matthew in high school and Omar in college,” Sasha said. 

“I wasn’t quiet about them!” You said. Both were severe crushes that consumed your thoughts for practically ever. When you did get with them, you felt like you would crawl out of your skin every time. 

“We didn’t find out that she liked Matthew until he got with someone in tenth grade. About tore her little heart to pieces. Omar, she hid for months while they talked and it wasn’t until I came back to the room that I knew they were even together,” Ka’ron said.

“Tell all my damn business, Ka’ron,” you said. You glared at her but she didn’t pay you any mind. She smiled and blew you a kiss. 

“Then I do feel special,” Tre said. 

“That was…”

“Your toxic trait, we know babes,” Sasha said and patted your arm. You glared at her too but Tre turned up the setting on your vibrator. You twitched in your seat. Sasha looked at you weird and asked if you were okay.

You nodded and focused on eating and not cumming. You were scared that if you opened your mouth, a moan would escape. 

“So what are your intentions with her?” Ka’ron asked. 

You glared at her. You were going to kill her. You hoped that your expression said as much as you took a sip of your drink. 

“I’m gonna marry her,” he said.

You spat your drink back in your cup and started choking. Painful, hacking coughs that made your chest ache. 

You tried to ask him what the hell he said. But the drink went down the wrong pipe and now your lungs were burning from all the coughing. 

“Obviously, down the road when we’ve dated some more,” he said and grinned. 

You were going to get a headache from all the glaring you were doing. Sasha patted your back and you calmed down. You drank some water to help clear your throat. 

Tre grinned at you and turned the vibrator onto the pulse setting. You closed your eyes, trying to fend off the orgasm and not make a sound. You didn’t know where he was hiding the remote. “Girl, are you okay?” Sasha asked. 

You nodded. No, you were not okay. But you couldn’t say why. You couldn’t fess up to absolutely everything, not while Tre was scrambling your brain. Ka’ron and Sasha continued to grill Tre about his background, family, and why he was with you. You thought some of the questions were rude but Tre handled it all with a smile.

You had brief periods of rest from the vibrator while you ate and had to answer questions yourself. You’ve done far worse to your friends’ partners so it was only fair that they did the same thing. Being in the hot seat still sucked though. 

“What I wanna know is what happened on the phone when Tre called you. How could you let me abscond with a strange man?” You asked Ka’ron.

Here she did grin evilly and sipped her drink, looking up and away as if she was remembering her happiest memory. “Oh I did my due diligence, unlike some people,” she said and looked at you.  

“I was blindsided with the help of my best friend,” you said, pointedly. 

She grinned. “When he called I thought it was a prank. But I googled him. I made him email me a copy of his driver’s license. He had to send me all of the vacation details. Plus a picture of him holding a spoon,” she said.

“What? A spoon?” You asked.

“Yup, so I knew I was talking to somebody real and not Zoboomafoo from Egypt,” Ka’ron said.

You looked at Tre. “You sent her a picture of yourself holding a spoon?” You asked.

“Can’t argue with a friend looking out for you,” he said. 

“Okay, okay. But how romantic was the vacay? Jamaica on New Year’s? That sounds like heaven,” Sasha said.

“It was!” You pulled out your phone and showed them pictures. They cooed over the beautiful sunsets that you took pictures of and the hills and mountains in the background. You told them about some of the activities that you got into.

Tre turned the vibrator back on and you gripped the edges of the table. You were shaking, badly, a bead of sweat gathering at the top of your forehead. You turned desperate, wild eyes to Tre. He kept it on the low setting and polished off his food with a smile. 

You would get him back for this, but anything you did to him, he would return tenfold. You debated if you were ready for the smoke or not. Pressure built and built in your lower belly. Yeah, maybe the payback was worth it if he could feel even a fraction of the torment you did.

“Well, Tre, I see you make our good sis happy. But let’s be real. You hurt her and they’ll never find your body,” Sasha said. She said it with a sweet smile but you knew first hand that Sasha stayed having a gun on her. Plus, she had an army of brothers, sisters, and cousins all willing to bail each other out. 

“It is never my intention to hurt her. I’m in it for the long run if she’ll have me,” Tre said.

Ka’ron gave you a subtle approving look. If Tre could pass the friend test, then he was ready to pass your parents’ approval. Though, how you were going to tell them the boss bit was troubling you. You already texted them that you were dating someone and sent them a picture of the two of you. Your mother approved, your dad did not. 

“How come you haven’t been married before? You say all the right things but I don’t buy it,” Ka’ron said.

“Girl,” you warned. 

Tre placed his hand on top of yours. “I’ve always known what I wanted and I didn’t feel the need to settle for anything less. I got a lot of shit outta my system when I was younger and now? I just want to spend time with someone who understands me. Someone I can spoil just to make them happy.” 

“And you found the most commitment phobic person to spoil,” Sasha sighed. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Yeah, why is that? She’s so tight lipped about everything,” Tre said.

You whipped your head around to look at him like he grew two heads. “I am not.” 

“She didn’t have a lot of privacy growing up. So when she moved out during college, she overcorrected. Hell, I thought her parents were dead or something for the whole first year of college. She never talked about them,” Ka’ron explained. 

This was starting to feel more like an intervention than a group activity. “I’m sitting right here,” you said and folded your arms.

The waiter came by and Tre paid for the meal. He threw you a smile but you weren’t done being a little pissy that they were talking about you as if you weren’t even there. 

“We know, but getting information out of you is like pulling teeth,” Sasha said.

“Shut up, I tell you guys a lot,” you said.

Sasha and Ka’ron looked at each other for half a second before erupting into laughter. You sucked your teeth as you watched them laugh at your expense. You’d definitely have to grab brunch with them, alone, and see what the hell they’re talking about.

You tell them everything. Every minor inconvenience, they were the first people you reached out to. So you were a little private when it comes to matters of the heart, who wasn’t? 

Tre got his card back so the brunch winded down. Tre stood up and helped you out of the booth. Together, you all walked outside into the glaringly bright afternoon. You said goodbye to your friends with promises to text them when you got a free moment. Though, where Tre was concerned there was no such thing as a free moment.

Tre escorted you to his car and opened the door for you. He helped you climb into his truck and then he got into the driver’s side. He lifted your hand and brought it to his lips. “I hope I passed the boyfriend test,” he said.

You smiled and pulled out your phone. You already had a few messages from Sasha, all ending with a lot of exclamation points. “I’d say you definitely passed,” you said.

“Good.” He started the car and turned on the vibrator at the same time. 

“Shit!” You screamed.

Tre chuckled as he sped away from Inglewood and hopped on the freeway back to El Segundo. You gripped the car door and the armrest on the middle console and focused as hard as you could. 

Your panties were uncomfortably soaked and it didn’t help that Tre was talking to you as if he weren’t the devil himself. “What you feel like for dinner?” He asked.

“Are you serious right now? Your punishments suck ass,” you said. 

He grinned. “Punishments aren’t supposed to be fun,” he said.

Tre hit a dip in the freeway and a wave of pleasure cascaded from the top of your head down to the bottom of your feet. You breathed through it. You weren’t going to be able to stave off this orgasm for much longer. You didn’t know where this control was coming from. You only knew that you hated edging so fucking much. 

“New rule, we can’t retroactively enact punishments on things already forgiven,” you said. 

“Forgiveness and punishments are two different things,” he said.

“So totally not. Forgive and forget, that’s the motto,” you said.

He glanced at you before switching lanes and pulling off of the freeway. You waited at the red light while he looked at how badly you were gripping the armrest. That damn smile crept across his face. 

“I can forgive you all day long, but punishment is about making sure we understand each other moving forward. I don’t want to be a secret in your life. Work is different, I understand your concerns about it. But in your everyday life, I want everyone to know that I’m with you,” he said.

“Couldn’t we do that without the punishment?” You asked.

He grinned as he pulled up to his house. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He let you out of the car but did nothing to adjust the setting on the vibrator. He took you to his room where he stripped you. When your panties peeled away from your soaked pussy, he moaned low in his throat. 

He told you to get on the bed, hands and knees, and he’d be right back. You weren’t sure what he was going to do, but you obeyed. If it got you any type of relief, you’d do anything he fucking wanted.

He came back into the room carrying a bar and a glass of bourbon. He had stripped down to his briefs and you licked your lips at the imprint of his dick. He was hard already and you knew that you were in for a fucking ride. 

“What’s that?” You asked.

“It’s a spreader. Want to try something?” He asked. 

“I’m game,” you said. 

He grinned and took a sip of bourbon, placing it on a coaster on his nightstand. He told you what to do in order for him to place the bar between your legs and strapped it to your ankles. You were effectively spread open for him. 

He grabbed your wrists and strapped them in so that you couldn’t move. You were trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and honestly? You were so turned on you nearly came on the spot. 

Tre admired his handy work but you couldn’t see his face. He just moaned in appreciation, running his fingers over your ass. “Comfortable?” 

“Please, let me cum,” you begged. You could only whisper as the vibrator was too fucking much. 

Tre kneeled on the bed and kissed your temple. “You have been such a good girl for me today,” he said.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“Doing exactly what I told you with hardly a complaint. Sat next to your friends with this vibrator in your pussy. I’m so proud of you,” he said and planted another kiss on your head. 

The praise was its own magic, creating wave after wave of pleasure. You were going to break soon. You were free to moan and wobble now that you were back in the safety of his place. Here, you could whine and cry and turn watery eyes towards Tre and beg. 

“Please,” you said and licked your dry lips. You sniffled. 

“Have you learned your lesson? Have you learned that it’s you and me from now on?” He asked.

You nodded weakly. You couldn’t hold yourself up since your arms were behind you. His sheets smelled like him and it was like sensory overload. Most of your senses were engaged in this. You were totally focused on the present in a way you hadn’t been before.

Your mind was usually spinning and planning out different things. But at the moment, you could only focus on his words and the vibrator. 

Tre stood up and stood behind you. He grabbed the vibrator and began fucking you with it. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. “I learned my lesson, I swear!” 

Tre chuckled. “I wanna feel you cum on this dick. Been dyin’ to feel you, little one,” Tre said. 

He removed the vibrator and you sighed in relief. Your body was so tense. Was it possible to combust from not cumming? Because you felt like a balloon ready to pop. 

Tre shed his briefs behind you. He grabbed your hips with one hand and then guided himself inside of you. You both groaned, low and long. “So fuckin’ wet,” he moaned.

“Oh fuck, Sir!” You yelled. 

He moved inside of you slowly, making sure that he wasn’t hurting you. He sheathed himself fully inside of you and you moaned at the feel of him. At the way he claimed you possessively and thoroughly. 

“Ready?” He asked.

You barely nodded before he slammed you down on his dick. You gasped and your tears flowed freely as he immediately found your G-spot. And proceeded to keep hitting it until a second later, you were crying out your orgasm. Crying from all the edging and the sweet fucking relief of finally cumming.

You were making guttural, near animalistic noises. Tre was fucking you through it. His big hands gripped your hips and pulled you onto his dick and because you were held open by the spreader, you couldn’t retreat. You couldn’t push his chest away. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ good. Fuck, so fuckin’ wet for me,” he said. 

Your pussy was making wet, smacking noises as his dick slipped in and out. “Shit, shit,” you moaned. You were already gearing up for another one.

“Naw, don’t hold that shit back. Let me feel that pussy shakin’ for me,” he moaned. He smacked your ass and you groaned. Your orgasm was just as intense as the last one. Perhaps more so. Colors danced behind your closed eyes as you shook and convulsed, lost so completely to the magnitude of it. The overwhelming pleasure that tore through you. 

Tears ran freely down your cheeks. It had to be criminal to feel this type of relief. This type of pleasure. You felt Tre in your tummy as he continued to fuck you through it.

“That’s my fuckin’ good girl,” he growled. His thrusts and strokes turned sloppy. Desperate. Slamming you back easily as he fucked you into the bed. “Gonna make me bust, little one. Gonna make me…” 

He moaned as he climaxed and his cum pulsed inside of you. Your body bowed as he brushed along a sensitive, sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. He shoved his hips forward and it made your ass sit higher in the air. His groans were a sweet symphony to your ears. 

He finally stopped, leaning over you as he huffed and tried to recover. “Shit,” he whispered. He pushed off of you and slipped out. He gripped your ass cheeks and spread them open even more and watched his cum leak out. 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Pretty ass pussy,” he moaned. Your pussy clenched painfully at his words and he groaned at the sight.

One of his hands left you and then he was lifting his glass from the nightstand. He took a sip with a satisfied grunt. He placed the cold glass against your heated pussy and you shrieked, trying to move away from him.

He held the glass to your pussy and the icy glass had you shivering and shaking. “Ouue shit,” you moaned. 

He swirled the glass in your essence and leaned down to place his lips to your ass. “I can’t get enough of you,” he said. He bit your ass.

“Fuckin’ same. Same,” you panted. He removed the glass and took another sip. You didn’t know what he did but he moaned. 

“Let’s see what else I can do while I got you spread open for me,” he said.

“Mercy, mercy,” you moaned. Your fingers dug into the velcro straps but you couldn’t get free. Totally at his mercy. 

“You know what to say,” he said. 

You bit your lip. If you used your safe word, he would stop and unstrap you. He’d check in with you and you’d be forced to talk it out. You didn’t want that. You found nirvana and you wanted to keep going. But fuck, you could use a break.

“I’m at yellow but I’m okay,” you finally said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

“Yes. I’m sure. Keep going,” you said. 

Tre kissed your lower back. “That’s my fuckin’ girl.” He proceeded to beat the brakes off of you and you were sure you died somewhere in there. But what’s dying compared to being completely possessed by someone you lov-liked.

Someone you liked. Shit.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 - Completed

[immelyna-14-tb]

Awwww qwq...que bonito qwq

Y por qué tan derrepente le decía papá? Xd

Por culpa de Lola :) (hermana del medio de Cindy)

Lola estudia en una academia de magia, justamente hubo un día en el que finalmente logro crear un encantamiento que en simples palabras, regresaba a la persona afectada a un recién nacido (el tiempo era diferente eso ya que si volvía a la normalidad y algo rápido, es decir, duraba recién nacido un día, al día siguiente tenía dos meses, al siguiente día tres meses y así hasta que llegaba el primer año, desde allí ya era de que al día siguiente tenía dos años, al otro tres, cuatro y así hasta llegar a su edad normal/actual).

Cómo no la dejan experimentar y probar sus inventos en personas literalmente le puso en encantamiento a la bebida de alguien al azar, Cindy la bebió y pues :], apareció siendo una bebé de cuatro meses al cabo de dos horas de haber consumido la bebida (si, apareció a los cuatro meses y no recién nacida, también otro secretou). Adivina quién cuido de Cindy en lo que estaba en ese estado lo suficiente como para que lo considerará un papá? File :). (Por eso casi nadie quiere a Lola 😔).

MUCHO TEXTO

[new2otomelol]

Maid to the Rescue - A KBTBB Fanfic

I have not posted in a looong time, but miss it! I will be going back, fixing some of my older posts (fix my writing, lol) I’m still not a great writer and being a teacher takes a lot of work, but this is a nice escape from the world every once in a while. This is for one of the awesome people that have read my stuff and liked it (a thousand thank yous!)

This story is developing and this is the first part. I don’t own the rights to Kissed by the Baddest Bidder, Voltage does. This is a fanfic for fun!

It has been a year since that fateful day in the lobby. God, my life was so different back then. I was always at the beck and call of “the boys” as I called them. My saviors as well as my proverbial pains in the rear. There are times I miss them, and others when I wish we could have all met under different circumstances.

You see, more than a year ago I use to be a maid at a famous hotel called the Tres Spades. A hotspot in Tokyo and one of the many business ventures of my former supposed boyfriend, Eisuke Ichinomiya.

My life was put in danger more times than what I would’ve liked during our pretend relationship; a situation that also opened up backlash from some of the employees at the hotel. Eisuke decided he didn’t want to see me suffer and thus ended our affair in grand-fashion in front of the staff and clients. This gesture alone successfully put an end to relentless bullying in less than a few seconds. 

Even though I completely understood the situation and told myself countless of times that I was fine, it still hurt.  Eisuke and I had gotten close during our time together and even felt like barriers he had put up were beginning to cease. But enough was enough, I was tired of being labeled “plain,” “stupid,” and other things by people. I wanted to feel like a person of worth that could stand on her own two feet. I took Eisuke’s breakup announcement as my chance to run and do what I have always neglected to do, self-care and growth.

That day, I stood up my co-worker on a date, packed my bags with only my essential needs, emptied my savings jar and fled. I tried to be smart about it, ditched my identity, left the money Eisuke had deposited in account untouched, destroyed my phone, you name it.  I knew the boys would eventually seek me out, but I needed time.

I had made a friend  through Chisato who helped me create a new identity and assisted me with finding a small place to live in that was well hidden. Eventually, Gage, as he called himself, had me join a few of his friends. Together we formed a small “gang” of sorts. Our activities may have not always been on the legal side of things, but they are just and necessary. 

We have become a family and enjoy working with each other, but I know that eventually I have to go back to my old life and start anew. I’m no longer that shy girl who followed others blindly and gave up so much of herself. I’m strong, in fact, I always was; I just never could find the time to build my confidence. Those days are gone and I’m ready for what I must face.

I wipe the sweat off my brow as I wait on top of this old, dilapidated roof and stare at my computer screen. Enough reminiscing, time for action. “Siren! It’s time!” I hear the command through my earpiece and enter a code in the computer. “Entered, security systems are down, including firewall. Lucy, begin download.” I give the command and hear “roger!” from my friend Lucy. A beeping sound goes off on my computer 2 minutes later and I know our time is up. “Alright everyone, it’s 2:00 a.m. and as planned they have caught on. My location has been made, initiating cleanup sequence, let’s roll!”

I pull a tab on my computer that I had installed to a small little bomb, which I had put together and crafted into my laptop’s hard drive earlier in the day. My 20 second countdown begins as I reconnect my harness to the rope and slide down to another rooftop across the way. I enter the stairs through the roof access and quickly make my way down. Through the windows of the stairwell. I can see dark figures running towards the building I just had been in. Goodbye jerks! I’m gone and out of sight.

I take dark alley ways and finally make it to my scooter and drive away. I’ve gotten so used to the adrenaline rush of it all that I don’t panic anymore. A few minutes later I make it to the warehouse with all the others. 

“Siren! Great job girl! We got the assholes!” Gage comes up to me and high fives me as I dismount my scooter. I take off my helmet and breathe in the air, letting that wonderful feeling of accomplishment settle in.

“I can’t believe that we were able to pull it off this time! Did Lucy download all the files we needed?” I ask and Gage smiles widely, “that and more my friend. We found that the company has a connection to a crazy cult-like organization called AID. We will unleash the company’s doings to the media and let that fire start and take over. We have finally avenged Nyx!” He starts to do his little victory dance around my scooter as the rest of the gang shows up.

Nyx is a fellow member of ours that had been employed by a major corporation. She was great at her job and handled the accounting for her employer. Unfortunately, the corporation went under new leadership and things went awry quickly. Looking for a scapegoat, they shifted the blame on our friend that we refer to as “Nyx” and she was arrested and charged. Tonight, we took the information we needed to clear her name and set her free.

We all move to the day room area and  take a beer in celebration relaxing on our old worn-out couch. “Siren, I think it’s time for you to also clear your name and face your destiny.” Gage whispers to me as he takes a seat next to me. Of course, the others pick up what we are talking about and quickly get excited. “Yes Siren! It’s time for you to conquer your love!” Lucy states happily. I laugh and throw a pillow at her from the couch. “I know, I know and I feel ready to go back and face it all; but remember, I must do it on my own." 

We continue to talk about plans that we’ve all made since we got to the sanctuary.  Gage is  a computer programming specialist and professor in real life. He took us in, taught us everything we know about computers, hacking, etc. Some of us in the group specialize in other things and so we learned from each other how to fight (thanks to "Net”), weaponry (thanks to “Lucy), languages (thanks to "Nikia”) and the hotel industry/customer relations, thanks to yours truly.

We’ve kept our names a secret from each other in order to teach ourselves to protect our identities. Not once have we ever revealed our real names, except to the professor, Gage. 

Each one of us had a rough patch in life and ended up here. Once we solve our past issues and restore our names, we move on with our lives with the promise to help others along the way. A “pay it forward” if you will.

After an hour of celebrating we begin to head out to go home and rest. Gage taps me on the shoulder and asks me to stay behind to talk. “Lisa, listen, it’s been a year for you already and I agree with the rest of the family, it’s time for you to face your past.” I had a feeling he wouldn’t let the topic slide. “I know Gage, and trust me, I’ve been working on it.” Gage smiles and motions for me to follow him to the kitchen area where he makes some coffee for the both of us. “I’m sure you have researched your friends plenty and have prepared." 

"Yes, I sure have. With the information from tonight, not only do we have evidence to free Nyx, but I have evidence to help out one of my friends and expose some of the corruption in his workplace. I also have found some other information about my ‘ex’ that tells me there is danger up ahead.” Gage sits back and sighs. “Oh sweetheart, there’s so much going on with each one of those men. In fact, I just found out something…” he’s cut off by the sound of the ringer coming from my burner phone. I gasp and look at the professor. “Answer it, quickly!”

Chisato’s ID appears on the screen and I immediately pick up. “Siren! Listen to me please. They’re all gone. Eisuke, Mamo, Baba, Soryu and Ota. We all thought they were on a trip, but it’s been two days!” The news hit me like a cold shower. “Chisato, please, calm down. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Take the chip out of that phone, break it and the phone and throw it away. Don’t worry.” The call ends abruptly and I take a deep breath and look at Gage.

“Told you Lisa, it’s time. Do you know who you are up against?” Without a doubt I do. I feel my blood rush and my fists tighten. “Gage, I can do it. The masked man, AID, many of these people that the guys have come up against have one person in common, the Prime Minister.” Gage smiles and leans forward holding my hands. “We’ll help you with the evidence to take him down. Your friends won’t see the connection because they’re dealing with the middle-man again.” “Gage, I don’t want to get any of you in trouble…” he pats my hands. “Lisa, you know we’ll be completely anonymous when releasing the information and helping you. We’ll all be worried about you going in to the line of fire, but you’re the most skilled in sneaking around and fighting. I know you can do this!” The professor stands up, gives me a kiss on the forehead and puts up our empty coffee cups.

“Gage, I can’t ever begin to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you, thank you so incredibly much for taking me under your tutelage and helping me grow.” I bow to him and he laughs. “Lisa, you’ve helped many people while being in this group and this isn’t goodbye dear. I may be in my 50’s, but I’m not dying yet.” I laugh and attack him with a hug. “No one will die, I’ll make sure of it.”

He pats my back and releases me from the hug. “Okay sweetheart, go get some rest and get ready, tomorrow is another day!” ************************************ Back in Tokyo…. “Eisuke! Wake up, come on! Shake it off! Damn this shit!” Soryu curses as he struggles against his tight restraints. “S…Sor… what the fuck is going on?” States Baba as he begins to wake up from his drug induced stupor. “I don’t know, but it looks like we were all drugged at the party and here we are. Who the fuck could havd done this?”

“Maybe it was one of your gang rivals Sor” said Ota as he licked his dry lips and shook his head in an effort to re-stabilize his sight. “Not one of mine; this is not their typical ammo.” Rustling noises come from one of the corners of their dark enclosure. “Nah kid, at this stage, it could be either Baba or Eisuke’s enemies. What the actual fuck did they give us? My head is 'bout to rip the fuck open!” Groans come from the center of the room as Eisuke comes to. “What the fuck?” Soryu rolls his eyes, “we just established that part. Do you have any bad deals going on right now? Anything we should know?” Eisuke shakes his head and tries to re-moisturize his dry mouth. “The usual. Maybe that masked freak is at it again? Whoever it is, I wasn’t anticipating this, and usually I can see it a mile away. This is bigger.”

“For sure it wasn’t me. I’ve been in France for a month” said Baba. “Well, whoever the fuck it is, they have a flair for the dramatic. They should have just taken us out of the equation if they were able to get all of us.” stated Eisuke. The lights turned on and the mens’ eyes sting with the introduction of the harsh brightness. “So you are awake, perfect! I’ll notify the boss soon.” Said a man with a familiar voice as he entered the large warehouse area. The men re-adjust their sight and look upon their captor. “I called it! Masked dude it is!” said Ota. “Oh buddy, I’ve been nothing but a pawn in this and will continue to be to fulfill my boss’s every desire. Unfortunately, he’s been a busy body, so I will entertain you until he’s ready. Continue to enjoy your accommodations men, you’re here for the long haul.” The man laughs and quickly walks away leaving the bidders in their metal chairs with what seems to be mechanized handcuffs, the likes they had never seen before.

[dippedanddripped]

One cannot look back on 2001 R&B/hip-hop without paying homage to the fits, the fits, the fits! Designer monogrammed wigs, bedazzled denim from head to toe, the occasional inexplicable trend (Nelly, looking at you), and, of course, Destiny's Child never leaving the house without three glamorous variations of the same fabric.

"[Hip-hop fashion] was creative and custom," says Derek Lee, former stylist to R&B icon, Aaliyah. "It wasn't driven totally by designers, you could still show up with some street stuff and it'd be acceptable." Lee, who styled the beloved singer from 1996 to 2001, pioneered the "sensual tomboy" aesthetic, central to today's fashion landscape, and evident in the wardrobes of R&B stars like Ciara, Teyana Taylor and Rihanna.

Lee recalled his own customizing experiences, adding glitz to streetwear pieces for the late singer. "We were flying to Paris and I'd be bedazzling Enyce sweatsuits for Aaliyah," he explains. Lee paid homage to fellow stylist June Ambrose for her work with Missy Elliott in further establishing the craze surrounding bedazzled pieces.

Ambrose, who styled over 200 music videos, was Missy's right-hand woman, costume designing for every major Missy Elliott production including "Get Ur Freak On," "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)," "One Minute Man," and "Lose Control." She was a go-to designer for R&B/hip-hop heavyweights including Diddy, Jay-Z, Mary J. Blige and Mariah Carey, and currently works as a creative director for Puma.

"We didn't have a point of reference that came before us," explains Ambrose. "We took the risk for the future." The "Rain" designer discussed the role of late '90s to early '00s designers as trailblazers, bursting through barriers between high-end labels and R&B/hip-hop culture. "I bridged high fashion with urban music," says Ambrose, "What felt so rebellious was taking a high fashion piece, and still keeping the same demeanor and swag that you wore in your neighborhood."

Dionne Alexander, the hairstylist behind Lil Kim's monogrammed wigs and Mary J. Blige's '90s updo's, agrees. "Look how free we are here," Alexander says. "It was very exciting, we were able to be extremely creative and we had to pull it from within. We didn't have Instagram, we had to go out and get magazines.

Tre Major, hairstylist to legendary celebrities including Aaliyah, Mary J. Blige, Patti LaBelle and Naomi Campbell, says the early '00s was "the best" era for fashion and hip-hop. "I was like an architect on the outside," Major explained. "Building the visuals, landscaping and making it gorgeous." Major was responsible for ushering in the lace-front wig into the world of R&B/hip-hop. "[The other stylists] were just geek because they never seen anything like it," says Major. "Now you can find a lace front wig on every corner, every boutique, every website."

On the 20th anniversary of this iconic, enduring year in fashion, Billboard caught up with the architects of the era, June Ambrose, Derek Lee, Tre Major and Dionne Alexander, to discuss some of the most memorable looks in '01 R&B/hip-hop and how these moments shaped the culture for decades to come.

Missy Elliott's Rhinestones, "Get Ur Freak On" Courtesy Photo Missy Elliott "Get Ur Freak On"

Missy Elliott's "Get Ur Freak On" bedazzled denim

In '01, rhinestones were all the craze, and we have June Ambrose to thank. "It was all about making Missy a rock star," says Ambrose. "I got her hooked on rhinestones -- and once that happened, forget about it." The 200-time music video stylist says the glittering look from Missy's Dave Meyers directed video was meant to create a dichotomy between Elvis-like glamour and sportswear. "The jean jacket silhouette was very comfortable and relatable to her, but taking a Bootsy Collins over the top approach is what made it really tangible and special."

Aaliyah's Catsuit, "More Than A Woman" Courtesy Photo Aaliyah "More Than A Woman"

Aaliyah's "More Than A Woman" Chanel catsuit

Aaliyah's Dapper Dan-designed faux Chanel catsuit from the "More Than a Woman" video is one of the late singer's most iconic moments. "I knew that it was going to be a feature, that it would be striking, if it was different from anything she has done before," says Lee. The decision to choose Chanel was a step away from edgier brands like Dolce & Gabbana and Roberto Cavalli, which the sweet singer was typically dressed in. But why not have Chanel design the piece themselves? "[The major brands] didn't want to be associated with rap music and this street culture," explains Lee, "That's why we had to create our own stuff or have it knocked off by [Dapper] Dan." When Aaliyah saw the design, Lee says she was feeling it. "I had decided to move Aaliyah into almost a cartoon character," he tells Billboard. "I was going down to Little Tokyo and getting all these anime books and had this entire idea."

Lil Kim Steve Wood/Shutterstock Lil Kim photographed at the Versace Haute couture show, Spring /Summer 2001 in Paris, France.

Lil Kim's monogrammed wigs

Monogrammed tresses have popped up on the heads of the rap's most iconic first ladies, including Nicki Minaj and Cardi B -- but similar to countless other signature hip-hop trends, it started with Lil Kim as the blueprint, and hairstylist Dionne Alexander the architect. "The inspiration totally comes from [Lil Kim] and who she is," says Alexander, the mastermind behind Lil Kim's Versace wig and equally iconic blue Chanel wig. "It was such a flow of creative energy, like a power that was coming through."

Alexander recalls coloring the Chanel wig Lil Kim wore for Manhattan File Magazine late into the night, until 5:00 in the morning. "I went to the art store and got trace paper and created the logo, then I cut it out." And her secret? Black magic marker. "With the Versace wig," Alexander says, "She called me and left this message on my machine that I literally kept for years. She went nuts, and it was the same with the Chanel."

Alexander says the present-day response to both wigs is surprising. "It's more of a buzz now than it was then. I'm so shocked at how many people call me about it now."

Outkast "So Fresh, So Clean" Courtesy Photo Outkast "So Fresh, So Clean"

Outkast's 'So Fresh' and 'So Clean' looks

The evolution of men's fashion in hip-hop is inextricably linked to the genius duo best known as Outkast. The pair defied longstanding tropes of how rappers were expected to present themselves and sent the media into frequent frenzies, with their delightfully shocking red carpet looks. In the "So Fresh, So Clean" music video, the eccentric Georgian duo rock a myriad of hairstyles, from a sleek, flipped perm, to a combed out, asymmetrical afro.

"That's some Southernplayalistic s--t right there," says Lee, in reference to the pair's '01 look. Alexander says Andre 3000 and Big Boi "revolutionized male confidence" through their unapologetic expression of creativity. Of Andre 3000, Major says, "He took a real gamble and went for it, just being his true artistic self and everyone loved it."

Macy Gray Frank Micelotta/ImageDirect Macy Gray arriving at the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center in New York City on Sept. 6, 2001.

Macy Gray's Vocal Dress at the MTV Video Music Awards

It was the dress seen (and read) around the world. Macy Gray, a performer known for her unconventional style and music, decided to transform her award show dress into a walking billboard. "That was totally Macy's idea, I just had to execute it," says Ambrose, the designer of Macy's immortal dress. "Working with Macy Gray was so much fun because she was an anomaly," Ambrose remembers. "In that moment, it was important that she sold albums, and she had she wanted to capitalize on the moment. It's like, where's the return on the investment? I'm getting hair and makeup and spending money on wardrobe. Is it gonna help me sell records? We wanted to just make sure that it did."

Destiny's Child "Survivor" Courtesy Photo Destiny's Child "Survivor"

Destiny's Child's coordinated camo

There are few things more memorable about the late '90s and early '00s than DC3's coordinated looks. Whether it was award shows, music videos or MTV appearances, you caught the trio out and about without perfect coordination. "Tina Knowles strikes again," says Ambrose, of Beyonce's mother and the group's resident designer. "Utilitarian was such a celebration of being tough and dominant," Ambrose explained. "It showed females in military can be sexy, that it's not just a man's game." Major drew comparisons to another always coordinated, ever-influential girl group. "Every time I looked at them, I saw the modern day Supremes," he said. "Everyone wanted to follow the camouflage trend."

Nelly Charles Sykes/Shutterstock Nelly photographed on Sept. 7, 2001.

Nelly's inexplicable face band-aid and double headbands

There are countless rumors circulating the World Wide Web about the explanation behind Nelly's little white Band-Aid and criss-crossed headbands. But regardless of the backstory, Nelly's creative face accessory was all people could talk about. "He created his own thing, like a left-eye kind of moment," says Major, who remembered considering rocking a Band-Aid himself. Ambrose says the bandage symbolized a "thug badge of honor," as iconic to Nelly as eye black is to football players.

Alicia Keys Anthony Barboza/Getty Images Alicia Keys photographed in New York in 2001.

Alicia Keys' beads and cornrows

Before Alicia Keys arrived on the scene, cornrows and beads were seldom seen in mainstream music. Ambrose, who styled Alicia in the early years of her career says the pianist extraordinaire's team always kept her identity in mind. "We wanted to always keep a sense of that New York girl and celebrate all the things that that spoke to her Blackness," says Ambrose. Not only was Alicia's hair aesthetically striking, it also played a roll in representation of Black women's natural tresses. "Universally, it told other young Black girls and it's okay to wear your braids and your beads," explained Ambrose. "That this isn't a Bo Derek moment, this is an African moment."

Mary J. Blige "Family Affair" Courtesy Photo Mary J. Blige "Family Affair"

Mary J. Blige's avant-garde "Family Affair" wigs

It's hard to say what part of the "Family Affair" experience was most unforgettable. Was it the futuristic outfits? Iconic choreographed moves? The fact that Mary basically invented three new words? In the world of fashion, it was most definitely the wigs. Tre Major, Mary's long-time hairstylist, says the chart-topping singer was ever-evolving, setting trend after trend along the way.

"I gave her edge and femininity," says Major. "I named that wig the Marvin Martian," Major says of Mary's salt and pepper avant-garde wig, a nod to the Looney Tunes character. Major says he custom made the wig on the R&B diva, since her head was "so small" compared to the mannequins. "She was the best muse because she was so daring," he explains. "She trusted me."

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 16 - Fallout

Hiro felt the strong wind batter his helmet as he scanned the skyline. He and Baymax were perched on top of the San Fansokyo bridge. The robot's sensors were also searching the cityscape before them, looking for Varian. 

Hiro of course wouldn't be able to spot the teen in a crowd from this height, but still he kept on looking anyway, hoping against hope that he might catch a glimpse of the familiar goggles and blue streaked hair. His friend had been missing for over twelve hours and he was really starting to worry. 

Just then his eyes did pick out something bounding across the rooftops. It was Fred carrying Wasabi, and they were followed close behind by Gogo and Honey Lemon. 

They quickly joined him on top of the pier. 

"Any luck?" He asked. 

"No." Honey Lemon sadly answered. 

"Fred and I didn't find anything either." Wasabi despaired.

"And he's still not answering his phone." Gogo added. 

"How about you and Baymax?" Fred asked hopefully. 

Hiro gave a weary sigh. "Nothin'. Baymax must've scanned the whole city by now. Either he's not in San Fransokyo anymore or…." He trailed off, unable to finish. 

"Or what?" Fred pressed.

"Or he...he may not be... alive." Hiro felt a lump in his throat starting to rise and blinked back tears.

"Don't … don't say that." Honey Lemon protested, her voice shaking with fear. She couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend so soon. Not when they were just starting to get to know him well. 

"Maybe Baymax's scanners missed something?" Wasabi suggested optimistically. "The city is a large place and we are talking about millions of people here." 

Hiro shook his head. "No. According to Baymax's memory files, Varian has a unique biosignature from everyone else because he's from another world. He should be easy to find in a crowd." 

"You mean he is an alien?" Fred asked, trying to make sense of what Hiro was saying. 

"Oh no, he's human, just like us, but he gives off a low level electromagnetic radiation reading; probably due to travelling through the portal unprotected. Either way Baymax would be able to pick it up easily unless... unless Varian just isn't emitting any vital signs at all." 

A suffocating silence fell upon the group as they shared worried looks. No one wanted to assume the worst but they were running out of options. 

"Then he must have left the city. That's all." Gogo said, the calm assurance in her voice putting everyone at ease, even herself. "He does have a bus pass. He may have rode out to the suburbs or the beach, or something." 

"Unless he got his portal working and left the planet altogether." Fred countered.

"What!? And leave without taking his pet raccoon with him!? Nope. Nuh-uh. No way am I keeping that thing!" Wasabi fumed. Though really, his annoyance was more about distracting himself from his own despair rather than focusing on the possibility of losing someone he had come to care about. 

Just then Baymax interrupted. "I have found something." 

Everyone looked at the robot hopefully. "Where? Is it Varian?" Hiro asked. 

"A faint energy reading coming from Muirahara Woods." Baymax replied. "But it keeps fluctuating, I can not tell if it is Varian or not." 

Hiro and his friends shared a look amongst each other. Muirahara Woods was well known to interfere with electronic devices. There really was no telling if what Baymax was picking up was their friend or not. Nor if the signal fading in and out was a byproduct of the interference or if Varian's vital signs were actually low. 

"Well so far it's the best lead we've had." Hiro said. "Let's move out."

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

Varian sat huddled underneath the giant tree. He’d woken up early in the morning sore, hungry, and cold, his jacket having been soaked through from the damp ground. Now the sun was nearing midday and he was becoming hot and thirsty instead. However, he still didn’t move from his perch. He wasn't ready yet to face his disgrace. 

“Man, what have I told you about sleeping outside?” An annoyed voice broke through his worrisome thoughts and Varian looked up to see Wasabi standing before him, dressed in his full armor, quickly followed by the rest of their friends.

Hiro hopped off of Baymax’s back and angrily strode towards him. 

“What were you thinking, running away like that!? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Chief Cruz has the whole police force looking for you and Aunt Cass hasn’t stopped crying since you…”

Hiro was interrupted by Gogo, who placed a hand on his chest to halt his progress. “Calm down. Yelling won’t help.”

Varian’s only response though was to duck his head and hug his knees, as if he could hide his shame so long as he could hide his face from them. 

“Are you ok?” He heard Honey Lemon ask and Varian felt a gentle hand rest upon his shoulder, but he still didn’t move or say anything. 

“I have done a full body scan and he appears to have suffered no injuries.” Baymax’s clipped voice filled the air. “However I do detect low levels of serotonin, which can be linked to anxiety, depression, panic attacks, insomnia..”

“We get it, Baymax. Thank you.” Wasabi interrupted, presumably to spare everyone the long and unnecessary details.

"Are you embarrassed about being arrested?" That was Fred talking. "Don't worry, you're not the only one to get busted for bot fighting, just look at Hiro here!" 

"Hey!" Hiro protested, annoyed.

Next Varian heard footsteps coming nearer and felt the presence of someone squatting down next to him. 

“Varian?” came Gogo’s voice, “what’s wrong?” 

No response.

“We want to help you but we can’t if you won't talk to us.” She pressed. 

Still no response. 

“Varian, we know something is wrong, and it’s not about bot fighting or the arrest.” She sighed. “The panic attacks, the angry outbursts, and now this….” 

She paused again, hoping he’d offer something up as a way of explanation but he didn’t. So instead she steeled herself and asked the question she had been wanting to ask since their argument last week, but had been afraid to do so until now. 

“Why were you left alone? Where’s your dad?” 

This did get a response. Varian inhaled sharply and squeezed his arms tighter around his legs, as if he had been stabbed by those questions. He still didn’t answer though. 

“What... what do you mean by ‘left alone”?” Hiro asked, all of his anger now replaced with concern.

“He said he's been on his own since he was fourteen.” Gogo replied. 

“And he also said that his pet raccoon was all he had left.” Wasabi added with horror as a new context for Varian’s angry outburst during his first night in San Fansokyo took shape. 

"You really did lose your family?" Fred gasped. "Is that why you became a super villain?" 

Wasabi gave his friend a disbelieving look, "For the last time he's not a super villain, Fred." He then took a swat at him for being so tactless, not that Fred felt it through his armor. "Stop saying that ya dummy!" 

"But I am." 

Varian's confession was muffled from where he still held his head in his lap, but there was no mistaking the tears in his voice. As one, all of his friends looked at him in surprise. 

"What do you mean?" Honey Lemon gently asked when Varian offered no further explanation.

"I... I've been in jail before." Was all he could say. 

"For what?" Hiro asked, almost fearful of the answer. 

Varian paused, unsure how best to explain his extensive list of crimes. Finally he settled on the one that pretty much covered all the rest. 

"Tre...Treason." He choked. 

He couldn't see it, but he was sure everyone was exchanging shocked looks with one another and he braced himself for the rejection that would undoubtedly follow. 

"You sold out your country's military secrets in a time of war?" Wasabi asked, confused. 

He hadn't expected that. Varian looked up to see everyone staring at him with worry and confusion. He could only look at them with equal confusion. What was Wasabi talking about? 

"We don't know what 'treason' means in your world." Gogo explained. "We only have our definition and it's pretty narrow." 

Varian's breath hitched and he ducked his head back down. Just even saying the word had been hard enough. He wasn't sure he could recount everything without breaking down again. His mind whirled as he tried to even pick out a starting point. 

"It means… lots of things…." He heaved through sobs. "I guess, the first… crime...was stealing the sundrop…" 

"The what?" Fred asked. 

"A… flower…it's supposed to heal people." 

"You mean medicine?" Hiro said, trying to put Varian's words into terms they all understood. "You… you got tried for treason just for stealing medicine?" His voice was now incredulous, as if he couldn't believe it.

Varian hugged himself tighter and snuggled his face deeper in his arms, trying to make himself as small as possible. There was more besides the theft but he couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud. 

"Varian," Honey Lemon coaxed, "why did you need the medicine?" 

"My… my dad… he's hurt." Was all Varian could say. 

"And this happened when you were just fourteen?" Gogo said, piecing together the puzzle. "You've been on your own taking care of your dad and no one helped you?" 

Varian finally looked up, tears running down his eyes, and nodded. All of his friends looked back at him sadly, unsure of what to say or do. 

"And that's why you ran away when Aunt Cass mentioned your dad." Hiro said, coming to a realization. 

Varian's stomach turned with guilt as he thought about the trouble he had caused for the kind woman. She had only been trying to help him. 

"What's wrong with him?" Hiro continued. 

How could Varian explain? What could he say that would even make sense to these people who came from a world without magic? Hell, he barely understood it himself and he had lived through it. 

"There… There was an accident. He's… he's unconscious…. And hasn't been able to move for over a year now." 

"What you have described is a coma." Baymax said. "A coma is a state of deep unconsciousness that lasts for a prolonged or indefinite period, caused especially by severe injury or illness. There are many causes for a coma and treatments vary on a case by case instance. I would have to see the person in order to diagnose further." 

Varian very much doubted that the robot could find a cure for the amber but he declined to state so out loud. Instead he straightened himself up a little and with new found determination said, "I have to get back. I got to save him. No one else will help him." 

"We'll help." Hiro replied. 

"Yeah," Wasabi pitched in, "We can bring him back here. With all our advanced medical knowledge; if there's a way to cure him then surely we'd have it."

Gogo rest a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes reassuringly. "Hey, you're not alone any more." 

Fresh tears began to well up in Varian's eyes for a whole new reason, but before he could respond Honey Lemon was throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "That's right, and until you get your portal working, you got us!" She squeezed him and nuzzled her head against his other shoulder. 

Soon Gogo joined in on the hug, followed by Hiro and the Wasabi. 

"Yeah, we don't mind that you're a former super villain." Fred said as he also joined in on the group hug. 

"Fred." Everyone else groaned, but Varian could only laugh. 

He'd spent years alone. No one had given a damn about him or his dad. No one had offered to help, many had outright attacked him when he tried to ask, and yet here he was now surrounded by people who really did care. Who had looked for him when he was lost. Who didn't turn on him for messing up. Who now were offering to help his father and vowing to stick beside him. 

There weren't enough words in the universe to describe his joy as they all surrounded him to offer love and support. The hard plastic of their armor wasn't particularly cuddly and with Baymax adding himself to the hug their collective weight was now crushing down upon him, but he didn't care. He wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as he could. 

He had friends now, real friends, and he wasn't going to lose them like he had lost everyone else.

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

Aunt Cass paced back and forth frantically inside the café, alternating between nervously biting her nails and biting into pastries she snagged from behind the counter. 

She hated waiting. She wanted to be out there, hunting for the missing teen, but Officer Cruz had insisted it'd be best if she stayed here at the Lucky Cat in case Varian showed up. 

She had made a beeline back to the police station last night, in hysterics, as she told the chief of police about Varian running away. Cruz had put several of his men on the case and had called the college as well to let them know he was missing. The next morning, after a fitful night with no news, Hiro and his friends had left to join the search. 

How could this happen? How could she just lose a child like that? It had to have been something she had said or did that made Varian run off like that, but she didn't know what. The car ride from the police station replayed in her mind over and over again as she tried to figure out what she had done wrong. All she knew though was that if anything happened to the boy she would never forgive herself. 

She was halfway through her sixth donut that day when she heard the bell ring indicating that someone had entered the café. 

"We're closed." Cass yelled with her mouth full, before turning around to face the customer who clearly couldn't read. She hadn't opened the coffee shop this morning, much to the annoyance of her regulars, but she just couldn't deal with the stress, not right now. 

"So I see." Professor Granville said as she read the 'close' sign. 

"Oh, Professor Granville." Cass sighed in relief. Hopefully the schoolmaster would have some good news. Maybe Varian had made it back to the dorms on his own. "Have you heard from Varian?"

"No, but I've informed both the faculty and the residential advisors about the situation. If Varian shows back up at the college we'll know it as soon as he does." 

Granville closed the door and walked over to join Cass at the counter. "I came over to find out from you what had happened." 

Cass gave a shaky sob and tried as best she could to recount yesterday's events through her tears. Granville waited patiently until she was done, letting Cass vent, not showing any judgement on her part. When finished, Aunt Cass broke down completely and Granville laid a calming hand upon her shoulder. 

"It's not your fault." The older woman reassured her. "Being arrested again must have re-traumatized him." 

"A...again?" Cass choked back sobs, confused as to what Granville meant, but before the professor could explain Chief Cruz walked in. 

'Diego!" Cass rushed to him. "Did you find him?" 

"No, but I got my best men looking, we'll find him. I actually came to check up on you." He placed a hand upon her shoulder. "How are you holding up?" 

"Holding up?" Aunt Cass echoed and then she gave a bitter laugh. "You mean how am I, after losing a child in less than half an hour of receiving custody of him?" 

"Cass." Cruz gently chided. He hated to see her beat herself up. 

"Or how about how my nephew got in trouble for 'bot fighting for, what, the eighth time now?" 

"Cass." 

"Or the fact that I wasn't there? That I couldn't stop...Tadashi…" Now she could barely talk through the tears. She felt like a failure. She had never intended to become a parent and yet somehow the cruel universe had decided that she would have to raise her nephews herself only to then take one of them away. Now it seemed to have stolen another child from her. 

"Cassidy." Cruz gently urged, using her full name to snap her back to the present. "Don't worry. He'll turn up fine. I'm sure of it."  That was when he noticed Professor Granville standing off to the side. "Hello." 

"Hello, Chief Officer Cruz, I'd take it?" The woman coolly eyed him up and down, clearly not impressed by his rank.

"Yes, and you are?" He asked, growing annoyed.  

"Oh, Diego, meet Professor Granville. She's the head of the Science Institute. Miss Granville, this is Chief Cruz." Cass hastily introduced them as she wiped the tears from her eyes and tried her best to compose herself. However neither of them were paying much attention to her anymore. 

"Miss Granville..." He acknowledged curtly. 

"I prefer 'Professor', if you please." Granville returned, equally terse. 

"Okay, professor," he spat, "I've got a bone to pick with you." 

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow but showed no other sign of emotion. 

"Where do you get off admitting a sixteen year old into your school, knowing full well he doesn't have any legal guardians or other adults to watch over him while he's in the states?" 

"The same way I 'get off' admitting any other student. Varian is one of the smartest kids I've ever come across and he earned his scholarship the same as Hiro, or Karmi, or any of the other exceptional young teens who prove themselves capable of handling the challenge." 

"Un-huh, and do any of these young teens have parents who live on the other side of the world?" Cruz retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"If this is about Varian being an immigrant, then I have all of his papers in order and you'll find everything perfectly legal." 

"It's not about that." He snapped. "A sixteen year old can't live in the dorms without an adult that he can contact in case of emergencies. So unless you are that adult, then he needs someone to foster him and no, a roommate doesn't count." 

"And just who do you think, pray tell, could or would be able to foster him that just so happens to live within commuting distance of the school? Especially since he isn't a citizen and not subject to the usual system." 

Cruz slid his hand across his face in frustration. "And that's why we don't admit foreign students who are underaged in the first place." 

Granville looked sadly at him. "That wasn't an option." She said quietly. 

"Come again?" 

Granville sighed with worry. What could she say? He wouldn't believe the whole truth, but she had to tell him something. As chief of police, Cruz had the power and connections to take Varian away if he thought the boy wasn't properly being taken care of. 

"He's a refugee." She hesitantly admitted, choosing a half truth. 

"What do you mean?" Cass interjected, confused now. Hiro had told her that Varian was an exchange student, but a refugee implied something else entirely. 

"Varian was already here in the states when I met him." She paused as she recalled all of the clues and hints Varian had dropped to her about his past and then tried to contextualize them to a modern setting as best she could. "His home is in the middle of a civil war. His whole village was destroyed, his father is missing, possibly injured or imprisoned or both, and he himself had just escaped from prison. And we're not talking about those nice clean cells down at your station, officer, he was held in a jail that's a little more advanced than a medieval dungeon."

Cruz looked at her aghast and Cass put a hand to her mouth as silent horror filled her. 

"I thought he was from Russia?" Cruz said, wondering what other lies the professor had forged. 

"A colony of Russia, a hold over from the USSR" She clarified. "He fought alongside a group who are trying to reclaim their land back." 

This last part was at least true. Varian had mentioned being associated with a people called the Saporians, who really were fighting to regain their homeland. He of course had tried to walk this back whenever he let it slip but Granville could piece it together. The fact that Corona just so happened to coincide with a less than always stable part of the world was mere coincidence, but was proving useful to explain his past without giving away Big Hero Six or the portals. 

"How did he escape and get here?" Cruz asked, still unsure what to think about all this. 

Well so much for keeping the portals a secret. Still, no reason to claim he's from another world entirely. 

"The boy built a working spatial portal. He's a genius, a prodigy, but he's never had the opportunity to even attend basic grade school. What else was I supposed to do? Turn him away? So I helped him to obtain a student visa, one that is perfectly valid, and provided him with room and board." 

"And it never occurred to you that maybe that wasn't the best idea?" Cruz pressed on, still not willing to concede yet. "That maybe there are other options, like, I don't know, social services or something. Surely they have the means to take care of him." 

Granville rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, of course, let's just throw the boy who's been on the run for his life into foster care, where he'll be shuffled around from house to house, until he ages out of the system in two years anyways, where he'll then wind up on the streets without an education or be deported right back to the hell he just escaped from." Granville's voice dripped with sardonic venom. She was getting really fed up with this police officer who acted like he knew everything. "I've worked in social services for years, Officer Cruz, and while they can be potentially life saving, they aren't always the solution. The boy needs stability and a future." 

"The boy needs a home and adult supervision." Cruz pushed back. "He can't get that living in a college dormitory." 

"Then what do you suggest?" Granville challenged. She'd be damned before she let this policeman drag Varian out of school, head sergeant or no. Hell, she'd adopt the boy herself if need be, though she'd have to get a new apartment first. Her one bedroom penthouse was actually very nice but it wouldn't hold both of them.  

"I'll take him." 

Both Granville and Cruz stopped and looked at Aunt Cass in surprise. She had been silent for most of the argument but now her plaintive voice interrupted their battle of wills. She had listened to Granville's explanation of Varian's past with growing terror and her kind soul could hardly bear the thought of that sweet boy alone in the world, facing all of those horrors at such a young age. 

"He can stay here." Her voice became more steady as she continued. "I have plenty of room, and he could still go to school. That way he gets both; a home and a future."  

"Cass…are you sure?" Cruz asked her. 

"You mean am I sure I can handle taking in a teenaged boy genius and raising him as my own?" She gently teased her friend. They all knew that that was precisely what she had been doing for the past several years. 

"I'll take him." She softly reiterated, more sure this time. However her new found confidence gave away when she remembered their current problem. "Th-that is if we can find him." Her voice cracked and she collapsed in on herself now with fresh tears. Cruz cradled her in his arms and gently led her over to a nearby stool next to the counter where she then laid her head upon the countertop and cried. 

She only looked up when she heard the bell to the café door ring again. 

"Look what we found?" Came a cheerful call.

There, standing in the doorway was Hiro and his friends. They had ditched their armor and superhero gear inside the garage and were now dressed in civilian clothes. Not that Aunt Cass knew nor cared at the moment; for standing in front, looking very small and sheepish, but very much alive and unharmed, was Varian.