#but I'm too tired to go through and double check for that mistake at this point.

[violetarks]

I read your most recent post and am deeply sorry for this ask..

Could you maybe write chishiya x reader fluff? Like it's cuddles and words stuff like that?

"scoot over."

show: alice in borderland

character: chishiya shuntaro

summary: after a hard game, you decide to unwind. the hatter throws another party, but chishiya is only interested in finding out why you weren't attending.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov

a/n: no amount of apologies could atone to your mistake. (im joking, thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy!!)

"well done." you hear your assigned partner for the last game, ann, say to you. she pats your back gently, fixing her sunglasses on her nose. "only a handful of cards left now."

you sigh out, craning your neck to relieve some tension, "thanks, ann. you too, you were great. i just can't wait to leave this place..."

she didn't know whether you speaking about the borderlands or the beach. the place was always loud and cheerful, and while that was a nice change in pace for the world they were in, sometimes somebody just needed some good peace and quiet.

but ann only removes her hand from your back, walking off towards her room. "i understand. get some rest."

a silent 'thank you' is said as you walk pass the atrium, looking down the hallway to see the crowds of people and hatter presenting the card you had just won and returned. everyone cheered, music starting up again as hatter claims another party is to be thrown.

to the beach! grab your towels and find some booze! it's time to celebrate another win!

you see the other executives standing behind him, nodding their heads and following to the party. but instead of joining, you rub your face and stifle a yawn. your room was further from the pools, so you could have some quiet.

sweat dripped down your back and you pull the collar of your summer shirt, trying to blow some cold air down your chest. why did the game have to be held in an open field, with no shade, while it was scorching hot. it's a wonder how ann managed to look so put together in such heat.

reaching your room was a safe haven, and you closed your door to flop onto your bed with ease. the promptly grabbed the remote and turned on the air conditioning, sighing dreamily at how the cold air hit your hot skin. it was almost too good to be true, how the electricity was still on. they hadn't checked on the generator in a while.

it isn't long until you hear the faint laughter and music coming from the party. it was a normal occurrence at this point, and you were glad that not many people partied inside the hotel. it gave you time to close your eyes and get into a comfortable position to sleep in.

there's a whisper of knocks at your door.

"who is it?" you groan, wiping your eyes.

the person replies, "astroboy."

you sit up, running fingers through your hair as you retort, "come in." chishiya marches through the door, closing it behind him. he crosses his arms over his chest as he studies you. "what do you need?"

"i just came by to congratulate the winner of the last game." he states, watching you crawl back under the first thin layer of blanket on your double bed, "the eight of clubs. always knew you were the trusting type."

with your back to him, you talk, "i trust you, don't i? that's risky enough."

"ann told us that you were the leader in that game. i'm impressed." chishiya compliments, coming closer and picking up the small teddy keychain on your beside table. you had found a ball machine and a broken one, so using the coins from that, you won yourself a blue teddy keychain. chishiya told you to just get them all, but you said one was enough. "i thought you would be down there celebrating with everyone else."

you shake your head, yawning, "i'm too tired to go out there. i'm staying in my room for the night to sleep."

"oh, is that so?" he hums, putting the keychain down, "i'm the same. i can't be bothered watching them out there in this weather. it's agonising."

you nod your head in agreement, laying on your back. chishiya was always a nice guy that you were close with. he was sarcastically smart and sometimes got on your nerves. he was lucky you were so fond of him, he would've been kicked out of here if it weren't for that.

"wanna' stay?" you ask, looking to the ceiling.

"with you?" he mumbles.

"no, we'll do a room swap—yes with me, idiot." you grumble out, turning around again.

chishiya grins at your tone before muttering, "scoot over."

you do so. it's silent for two seconds before he does lay beside you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, so close that chishiya could see the hair blowing in your face from the air conditioning.

"what's wrong?" he asks, looking to the back of your head. you reply that 'it's nothing', but chishiya isn't buying it. "you usually at least stop by at every one of these parties. common courtesy for you. are you that tired?"

you don't say anything to him at first, but then, you turn around and lock eyes with the blonde. chishiya is on his back, he sees how you knit your brows in irritation.

"do you miss home?" you question, playing with the blanket, "our real home?"

"of course, who doesn't? these games dwindle our numbers and we don't even know why we're here." chishiya states, looking unbothered by what he said, "it's a fascinating world, though."

"it's a prison." you mumble into the blanket. your knee nudges his thigh, and chishiya lays a hand on the pillow, in between the both of you. staring at his fingers, you reach out and put your palm over his, gently. "i miss home."

"what was your home like?" he questions, eyed tracing your every breath.

"it was quieter than here. i used to cook with the tv going on in the background so it didn't sound like i was alone and that somebody was in the other room watching." you claimed, closing your eyes for a second, "but it was also really nice being by myself. my friends used to take me out all the time because i was a 'homebody'. all i had was work and home."

chishiya chuckles, brushing fingers over your knuckles, "that was just like me. i only had my work. and i worked at the hospital more than i spent time at home. my apartment was a good walk away, so i saw no point, y'know?"

you let out a hum, staring at your hands, "if we lived together, we'd barely see each other."

he smiles softly, nodding once. "i guess you're right."

"but it's still nice living by yourself. cooking for one, cleaning for one." you comment, suddenly missing your bedroom and your living room and kitchen. all that you were surrounded by before. "i've never spent a whole lot on groceries either, only as much as i needed. you don't need to do more than yourself. and there's nobody else to worry about..."

you were so tired. you missed being able to sleep in and not having to go to bed early because you had a death-defying game to play the next day. you missed not having to think about your life to intricately. you missed your actual life.

"you wouldn't have to worry about me." chishiya says, and your eyes open to see the blonde looking back at you with certainty. his hand clutches yours warmly. "i wouldn't make you worry."

"you promise?" you ask quietly, knitting your brows.

"if you want me to." he tells you. your brows upturn. "i promise."

chishiya was the most normal thing about your life right now. someone who just likes to see you around every now and again. more often than he'd like to admit. but he was so warm and considerate.

a swift movement of yours has arms around chishiya's neck, hugging him close to your chest as your bury your face into his hair. he lets out a small huff at the action before hands rest on your hips, snaking to around your waist. the blanket nearly covers all of chishiya, and he feels your hot skin shiver twice before calming down. he rubs your back gently as your shoulders relax.

"when we get back, you'll find me?" you ask, hopeful.

he can hear your heartbeat grow faster. "you will." he responds.

"tell me about your life?" you request.

he hums, leaning back and facing the ceiling again. you scoot closer, keeping an arm stretched across his chest and laying your head on his shoulder. "med student. i work with patients requiring transplants and people on waiting lists, but i'm an all round." he explains, "my apartment is of decent size. i have a spare bedroom that i keep all extra storage in. my study is filled. i have to say, it is nice living alone."

you nod your head, and chishiya goes on, "i usually get breakfast on the way to work; just one sugar and a quarter milk, or sometimes i just get black coffee with two sugars." he can tell you're only half listening, from the way you're playing with the strings of his jacket. but he doesn't mind. "on my breaks, i go to this takeout place across from the hospital. they sell my favourite meat buns, i always buy at least two."

he taps your back, twice you note. and you look up at him. "when we get out of here, remind me to show you." he says, "it can be our spot."

you stare at him for a while before nodding slowly. "yeah... okay."

he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, muttering back with she unknown knowledge, "you'll come find me one way or another."

[three-dee-ess]

Sending some tips I've learned, so other people can learn it before making the same mistakes I have!(I figure you have better reach than me!) Pictures of 3ds as payment, one with the splasg screen and one with the home screen!

Now, onto the tips!

If you are going to buy replacement/spare styluses, make sure you look for ones For Your Model!!! I bought a 4 pack of styluses only to learn later that they were made for the old normal sized 3ds, and so wouldn't fit in my 3ds! While this isn't a HUGE inconvenience, it meant I kept losing them! (Side note: replacement styluses are very cheap to get! I now have 5 on my own, and I gave one to a friend and lost another!)

You don't have to buy the traditional grey brick chargers. Listen. We are in the modern age. You can get USB to ds adapters instead. Like the kind you use for your phone. They feel MUCH more durable than the old ones. I've gone through 4 of the old ones and I'm a bit tired of it. Plus these take up less space on the extension cord!

I highly recommend learning how to virtually access your 3ds SD card using FTPD! This makes it a lot easier to get non-3ds roms onto your system, especially with systems where you have to use a screwdriver to get to the card. It also makes it easier to make backups! You CAN access it remotely with official methods if it's a new 3ds, but honestly ftp transfer is a lot faster to me.

Join the 3ds hacking discord! I highly recommend searching any questions you have there as well as the Internet! Things are often changing, and unless it's a very popular site like the 3ds hacks guide, it's probably not going to stay up to date for long! Best to double check, and it can save you some hassle!

When in doubt, ask! Hacking communities tend to be very friendly and open to help, as evidenced by the blog I'm sending this too!

red o3DS

honestly I don't need the payment pictures but I'll happily take bribes in the form of them. >:3c

#1 if you have access to a 3D printer, all of the styluses have readily available free 3D models online so just get some printed!

#2 I've used those in the past! mine is currently missing but yeah it's huge. Super nice to have an extra long cable and everythin.

#3 thank u!! i didnt know that. I'll have to try it out.

#4 h u h. is there a perm url I can link to? (I dont like joining public servers myself but i'm willing to link to it!)

#5 yes yes yes yes!

[izzysillyhandsy]

Prince Ricky and Izzy Hands - WTF actually happened there and why?

Yesterday I was rewatching the finale with my first-time-OFMD friend, and she was absolutely baffled by Ricky shooting Izzy with his own gun.

In her words: "Nobody took it off him, that's not realistic! That's impossible, totally impossible, I can't buy that, you don't just forget a gun on a prisoner?!?!?!?"

And on my first watch I thought the same thing (as we all did), and then forgot about it a bit, but now I want to speculate. Because WHY did that happen?

The easiest explanation is, of course: Ricky needed a gun and it doesn't really matter where it came from. The writers didn't think it was important and neither should we.

But I'd like to expect a bit more from this show - I remember that I was taken out of my immersion quite a bit by this obvious "mistake". Ricky is a hostage who was just about to kill every single pirate we know - and nobody notices he's armed? And he's led through the enemy lines by Izzy with only a small knife to his back?

If Ricky still has his gun, that means that they took his sword but noone thought of searching him properly (and to really rub it in, Ricky is shown cleaning his gun in an earlier scene). The gun also seems very accessible later, so it probably wasn't even hidden well.

So why didn't the writers have Ricky take Izzy's (or Black Pete's) gun? I know Izzy almost never carries a gun (which is interesting in itself), but they were all in Navy uniforms anyway. Why not take the weapons too? Or have Ricky stab Izzy with a hidden knife (in a way that the other characters won't notice, like with the gunshot, presumably)?

Or was the whole thing actually deliberate? In a "it doesn't really matter if you take it at face value, but if you look closer there might be another explanation" kinda way?

(that was a really long introduction to what I'm actually here for, I'm sorry)

Who actually searched Ricky and took his sword? Was it the same person who stayed next to Ricky during the cool dressing up montage? Who led Ricky through the woods?

(Hint: it's the guy who's always in the background when these 2 are kissing)

Of course we have no proof that Izzy searched Ricky, but I think it is very probable.

Izzy had just been talking to Ricky. He'd been sitting next to Ricky when he was knocked out.

Izzy had just deeply insulted and provoked Ricky and made himself the spokesperson of piracy - "It's about letting go of ego for something larger." - "Kill me. Kill us all. Our spirit will last throughout your entire fuckin' empire." - thereby almost goading Ricky into killing him.

And then Stede presents his nebulous plan we never actually hear, and Izzy (why Izzy?) is put in the most dangerous position, right at the frontlines leading the hostage. Did he volunteer for that?

And are we really expected to believe that Izzy wouldn't double-check that Ricky was unarmed?

I really don't like where this is leading, by the way. Because the explanation that makes most sense from a Watsonian perspective is that Izzy either didn't mind or actively wanted to be killed/wounded.

The show went out of its way to portray Izzy as older, wiser and more resigned in the last 2 episodes - he looked like he'd aged 10 years in a few days, he moved around slower and seemed to be in more pain (and groaning when sitting down, etc.). Also, he seemed to have made peace with everything and everyone, and he seemed... tired.

(I know he's just been shot here, but he just looks exhausted)

I think there might be a possibility that Izzy let Ricky keep his gun because he did want to go. Stede's "It's only suicide if we die!" sounds almost to fitting in this context. Izzy might have thought that the one conversation Ed needed, the one where Izzy could set Ed free, could only happen on his deathbed (as I said elswhere, Iz and Ed are closest in life-and-death situations).

Or (and this is what I choose to believe until S3 comes around), Izzy took Ricky's pistol while he was unconcious, took the bullet out and faked his death to set Ed and himself free. He very pointedly doesn't want Ed to see his wound, after all (Ed: "It's not even that bad!"). If it's only about the deathbed absolution, and removing himself (and the spectre of Blackbeard) from the situation, Izzy doesn't actually have to die, does he?

This also fits with the song played over the end sequence, panning to Izzy's grave:

And don't speak too soon For the wheel's still in spin And there's no tellin' who that will be namin' For the loser now Will be later to win For the times they are a-changin'

Yeah. A bit too conspiracy-theory-like maybe. But it was the first assumption my friend made - 5 seconds after the scene: "The gun can't have been there by accident, that's just stupid. Oh no. Did Izzy arrange that? Did he really want to die for Ed?" and I thought - you know what? That was my first thought as well. I just immediately dismissed it for being too dramatic.

So, either Izzy is the most reckless, stupid and negligent pirate ever (which he obviously isn't, quite the opposite) - or he trusted the person who (badly) searched Ricky (oooh, new conspiracy theory - it was Ed! Sorry.) - or there was something else at play.

OR

...maybe it was just lazy writing after all.

[silenzahra]

Anything for him ✨

Chapter 2 is up! ✨

TW: Blood, injuries, angst

It's done! 🤩 Chapter 2 of my Luigi's Mansion fanfic is here at last! I'm really sorry I took this long, but I hope it was worth the wait!

As you can see, this one has some TW, so check them out before reading! But hey, it also has some sweet brotherly love moments, and believe me when I say I enjoyed writing every single one of them 🥹 (and the angsty ones too ofc 🤭)

Here's a short sneak peek! ✨

You'll see it's also longer than Chapter 1, which is why it took me so long 😅 That, and the festive season and adult life kinda getting in the way 😂

Again, let me point out that this is a translation from Spanish, which is my mother tongue, so it's the language in which I write. This means that I may have made some mistakes, for which I apologize in advance 🙏 Please feel free to let me know in case you find some so I can fix it! 💖

But anyways! I really really hope you guys like it! I'll start working on Chapter 3 tomorrow, and once I post it, my first public fanfic will be complete! 😁

See you tomorrow! ✨

EDIT: Decided to add the chapter here too for anyone who'd rather read it on Tumblr! Please keep reading below the cut if you haven't yet!

Chapter 2: Mario

Mario is tired of his confinement.

He ignores how long he has been trapped in that painting, but he does know that he will go crazy if he cannot get out soon. If only he could find a way to slip past the magic of the portraits... After all, some time ago, he managed to save Princess Peach and the entire Mushroom Kingdom by jumping inside paintings, getting powerful stars and then going back to Peach’s castle.

But this one works in a very different way.

In the painting in which he is, the magic of King Boo reigns.

And Mario knows nothing about its powers and workings.

Just as he knew nothing about what he would find when he entered that abandoned mansion that, allegedly, his brother had won in a contest in which he had not participated. Mario was wary about this, so he decided to go ahead and check that everything was fine before Luigi arrived, for he was not going to allow his little brother to be the victim of a scam. Not in a million years.

However, as soon as he crossed the door and found himself in the most absolute darkness, a swarm of Boos materialized in the middle of the blackness, jumped on him and pinned him down. Mario only remembers jolting and struggling with all his might to free himself, but the annoying specters must have stunned him, for he does not remember what happened next.

He only knows that, when he opened his eyes again, with a severe headache that, fortunately, has been subsiding, he was already locked in a tiny room whose only contact with the outside world consisted of a glass. A glass that, no matter how hard he has hit it since he woke up, he has not been able to break, not even crack a little.

Through that glass, however, Mario has had the chance to observe the luxurious room in which he has been trapped, with brick walls, golden moldings and three lamps full of lightbulbs that prevent the place from plunging into darkness. There are also a couple of columns with strange motifs, and right in front of the painting in which he is in, Mario can see two torches from which smoke is billowing. A little further on, behind one of the columns, he can make out two other torches, also smoking, and on the other side, he is surprised to find a stone lion’s head.

Also, to his misfortune, Mario came face to face with his captor, King Boo, who watched him from the other side of the glass with a twisted grimace on his face and emitted those shrill laughs that made his hair stand on end. Mario returned a look of rage and hit the painting with very tight fists, but his reaction only served to make the ghost double his laughter and disappear right under his nose without saying a word.

So here he is now.

Mario has no way of knowing how much time has gone by since he was locked up, but he does know that every second that goes by brings him closer and closer to madness. No matter how much he has knocked, jumped and investigated, he has not been able to find his way out of that tiny prison, which he has quickly started to detest. Dejected, he sits down, his back against the glass, his eyes fixed on the unfathomable dark infinity that surrounds him, his mind exhausted. All he can think is that he hopes for Luigi to have backed out at the last moment and have not come to the mansion, or if he has, that he has turned back as soon as he came across the sinister building. Ghosts scare him to death.

Then, to his ears comes that thunderous laughter which, even though he has only heard it once before, he has come to loathe. King Boo floats into the room; Mario does not need to turn around to know it. He remains where he is, fed up with his captivity and his captor, and folds his arms, unwilling to give the ghost the satisfaction of seeing how jaded he feels or how frightened he actually is of what might happen to him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Mario,” croons King Boo from outside the painting. The plumber closes his eyes and sighs. “I have a little surprise for you...”

The specter’s laughter chills his blood, but Mario pulls his cap down and shrinks in on himself. He has no interest in anything his kidnapper might tell him.

“Someone has arrived at the mansion,” continues King Boo, still in a singsong tone. “Someone you know very well and who is looking for you with great desperation...”

This does capture Mario’s attention. A shiver runs through him from top to bottom and he hopes, he wishes, that it is a lie, that the Boo is making fun of him, that it is not true...

However, it does not take him long to hear a voice calling him. A voice full of fear and insecurity, a voice he knows better than his own, a voice he has heard all his life and that he adores more than life itself.

A voice that has the power to give him hope and, at the same time, take it away.

“Mario?”

Startled, Mario finally turns and stands up, and he rests his hands on the glass that separates him from the outside world. Before him, suspended in the air, there is an image that King Boo has conjured up with his strange powers and around which he flutters with joy. Mario can make out what must be the corridors of the mansion, dark and gloomy, with their wallpaper walls, worn by the passage of time, and a red carpet that extends through each and every one of their corners.

The trembling light of a flashlight illuminates them. A few hesitant footsteps run through them. Blue eyes watch everything with fear and reticence.

Luigi.

Mario, unable to help it despite his initial fear, smiles as soon as he sees his little brother. His heart warms at the sight of Luigi walking in the gloom, facing his fears and calling out to him, looking for him, anxious to be reunited with him. A surge of intense affection sweeps over Mario and draws a deep sigh from him, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that the flame of hope has ignited within him, so powerful and burning that Mario is convinced that, no matter what happens, nothing can extinguish it.

Then he notices the device that Luigi is carrying on his back and looks at it with curiosity. It is some kind of vacuum cleaner from which, however, emerges the flashlight with which his brother illuminates his steps. Mario wonders what it is, where he got it from, what it is used for, but he soon notices, not without some satisfaction, that King Boo twists his face at the sight of this object. Mario squints his eyes, intrigued.

In the image, Luigi continues to advance down the corridor, slowly, looking around him in fear. Some ghost bats hanging from the ceiling fly towards him, but even though he is startled, Luigi continues forward without turning to them and increases his speed a little. Mario bites his lower lip, feeling inside him that older brother instinct that urges him to go to Luigi and protect him from those specters, but he cannot do that. He has no way to reach Luigi, so he must be content to watch his progress from the canvas in which he has been trapped.

The corridor divides into two forks and Luigi chooses to take the one on the left. Mario sees him approach the two doors that await him at the end of the hallway and try to open the first one with no success. When he tries the second, however, Luigi enters a dark bathroom that, judging by the light of his flashlight, seems very neat. Luigi takes a few steps towards the bathtub but is startled when a lilac-colored ghost appears behind him. Mario wants to scream, to warn Luigi to run away from there, that it is going to catch him, but Luigi walks a little more, letting the specter float behind him, and when it is about to pounce on him, Luigi turns around, shines his flashlight on it and leaves it petrified, dazzling by the intense beam that his machine gives off. Mario notices the pink heart that beats inside the spirit, the one that has appeared before the light, but then Luigi begins to vacuum, catching both Mario and the ghost unawares, and it tries to resist and flee, but does not succeed.

Dumbfounded and amazed, Mario watches as his little brother, the same one who has always been afraid of darkness and ghosts, captures the lilac spirit with his vacuum cleaner, the one he carries on his back and that King Boo seems to fear so much. The being resists, tries to escape, but Luigi steadies himself on the ground and grabs the vacuum cleaner’s nozzle, gritting his teeth from the effort, until, defeated, the specter is sucked inside the object. When Luigi relaxes and smiles with satisfaction, Mario does the same, admiringly.

“Yes!” he cheers, delighted. “That’s my brother!”

He knows Luigi cannot hear him, but he claps anyway, happily. He has never doubted Luigi’s abilities to achieve whatever he sets his mind to, he has always believed in him and all he has to offer, and now he is simply seeing his suspicions confirmed.

And the same thing happens next, as a new ghost materializes behind Luigi a few seconds later. Luigi acts in exactly the same way and Mario laughs, delighted, as the spirit is dragged into its personal prison. Immediately, the bathroom lights come on and Luigi breathes a sign of relief, so Mario deduces that there is no longer any danger in that room; otherwise, the place would still be dark. He smiles, elated at his brave brother’s success, and watches him pull aside the shower curtain and gently tap the sink, from which a glistening heart emerges, and Luigi deftly catches it.

Mario watches, curious and attentive, as Luigi brings the heart to his chest and takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. He sees him press his hand against the top of his overalls, fully open, and after a short sigh, Luigi lowers his arm and opens his eyes again, his smile warm and relaxed. Mario blinks slowly and it takes him a second too long to understand that Luigi’s body has absorbed that little heart. He then realizes that it must help him feel better and less tired, and imagines that, had his brother been injured, it would have healed him too.

Mario nods with a thoughtful smile. The world he and Luigi discovered by accident will never cease to amaze him.

In the meantime, Luigi has started vacuuming toward a small shelf near the shower. Mario raises an eyebrow in puzzlement, but his doubts are dispelled as soon as he sees a key falling from the shelf into Luigi’s hands. Hee grabs it with a pleased smile and puts it in the back pocket of his overalls. After giving himself only a few seconds of respite, Luigi takes hold of the flashlight again and, with a deep breath, returns to the hallway.

And, trapped inside the painting, while King Boo hovers around the image of Luigi he himself has conjured up, Mario watches, fascinated, the progress of his beloved little brother. Luigi captures those bats that he saw earlier and that were once again flying towards him, and he does it with no hesitation and no trace of fear in his bright blue eyes. He is startled when a pink ghost emerges from the ceiling and throws a bomb at him, but despite the initial fright, Luigi manages to get far enough away to avoid being hit by the detonation and, without wasting time, he aims his flashlight at the specter before sucking it up. Mario breathes a sigh of relief and puts a hand to his chest, for his heart has started to race as he believed that his brother was going to die because of that bomb.

Luigi lets out a high-pitched squeal when he discovers a golden mouse running towards him, but it only takes him a few seconds to compose himself and, once again, he directs the vacuum cleaner towards the ghostly animal. Mario is stunned again when, after the mouse disappears, piles and piles of money are left in its place. A laugh of disbelief escapes Mario’s throat as Luigi picks up each coin one by one, though he keeps looking around, alert for any specter that might approach him by surprise.

“Your little brother is getting very lucky,” mumbles King Boo, indignant.

“It’s not luck,” replies Mario, crossing his arms. “It’s bravery.”

“Bravery?” the ghost repeats, bursting into laughter. “We’ll see that when he runs into my Boos. It’ll show what a coward he truly is.”

“My brother is no coward,” Mario says slowly, clenching his fists. “He’s a lot braver than you’ll ever be, and he’ll beat the crap out of your Boos, you’ll see.”

“The same way you did, Mario?” mocks the King.

“I was unarmed.” He shrugs and smiles. “Unlike my brother. I’ve seen the way you look at that thing on his back.”

King Boo gasps and turns to the image he has created. In it, Luigi is putting the last of the coins in his pocket and smiling to himself, a smile that Mario mirrors, full of pride at the poise his little brother is showing in facing his fears. However, as soon as King Boo turns to him with an expression of indifference in his face, Mario gives him a look full of distrust.

“The Poltergust 3000?” he says disdainfully, crossing his tiny little arms.

“So that’s its name...” Mario murmurs, nodding.

“He won’t be able to do anything with it,” the king proudly assures him. “When all the Boos unite, we are invincible!”

“Then Luigi will find a way to make your subjects split,” Mario answers, convinced.

He does not hear the ghost’s reply, because Luigi’s voice, calling him again, demands his full attention. His brother has already finished collecting the money and moves his flashlight from one side of the corridor to the other, looking for him tirelessly. Mario feels a pang in his heart at the eagerness with which Luigi calls him, not willing to give up until he finds him. He rests his hands on the glass again and looks helplessly at Luigi, wishing he could answer him, meet up with him, tell him where he is, but he himself does not know. Where exactly is that room where he has been locked up, that kind of altar that is nothing but another mockery of King Boo? If Mario knew, if he had the slightest idea, perhaps he could try to find a way to get a message to his brother.

But he is bound hand and foot because of the magic of his captor, who made sure to stun him so as not to allow him to see even a small hint of the path to that room.

Therefore, all Mario can do is watch Luigi as he moves around the mansion, flashlight in hand, the Poltergust 3000 on his back and his big brother’s name in his throat.

Luigi stops in front of the central room in the hallway, rummages in his pockets and pulls out the key he found in the bathroom. With trembling hands, he inserts it into the lock, turns it and opens the door. He comes across a ballroom with the floor laid out like a chessboard and white walls with a few columns embedded in them. Here and there, he finds small corners arranged for the dancers to rest, with luxurious red velvet chairs and curtains of the same color and texture to provide some privacy. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling but are now turned off.

As he advances a couple of steps extremely slowly, Luigi illuminates every corner of the room more than once, wandering the beam of light around the room and not ceasing to look to one side and the other, frightened. From his portrait, Mario holds his breath, wondering what new danger his brother will now have to face.

It does not take him long to find out: around Luigi, pairs of dancing ghosts suddenly begin to appear. Upon closer inspection, Mario notices that they are Shy Guys, as they are wearing their usual masks.

Only these Shy Guys are armed.

Luigi is not intimidated by the bidents carried by his new rivals and Mario can only admire, once again, the courage of his little brother. It is obvious to him that Luigi is afraid, very much so, as he walks around trembling, swallows very often, clutches his flashlight tighter than necessary and looks at the specters as if they represented the worst of his nightmares, which, Mario knows for sure, in his brother’s case is true. However, Luigi is not paralyzed by terror, but dares to move forward step by step, and Mario thinks that would be his exact definition of bravery: to venture to do anything in spite of fear.

He sees his brother use the Poltergust 3000 to start sucking up the Shy Guys’ masks, but as he does so with one of them, the unmasked one’s partners approaches Luigi to attack him with its bident. Mario stifles a scream when he sees Luigi narrowly dodge the blow and is glad that, at that moment, his brother chooses to run away from the ghosts to safety. Mario sighs in relief when he sees that the pair of Shy Guys opt to ignore Luigi and just resume their curious and chaotic dance.

Looking for his brother with his eyes, Mario finds him cowering in a corner, clutching the flashlight of his vacuum cleaner as if his life depended on it. His legs tremble and panic has taken over his face, and once again Mario feels the imperious need to go to his side, to hug him, to comfort him, to protect him, to assure him that everything will be alright and that they will never be separated again. His desire to embrace Luigi is so intense that his chest begins to ache. He drops his forehead on the glass and wonders how much longer that will last. Has King Boo not had enough fun already? Has he not tortured both brothers enough?

Fortunately, Luigi’s expression, although not entirely free of terror, soon also reflects intense concentration, as his eyes narrow and follow the movements of the dancing Shy Guys. For a few moments, he observes from afar the three couples dancing around the room without leaving the corner where he has taken refuge. For a few moments, both brothers remain still and silent, although only one can see the other, separated and united at the same time.

Then Luigi stands up, frowns and raises the end of the vacuum cleaner on his back. He strides purposefully toward the nearest pair of Shy Guys, though he does so slowly and on tiptoes. Mario covers his mouth with one hand and holds the other to his chest, nervous about what his brother is about to do.

“Come on, Luigi,” he encourages him quietly, even though he knows Luigi cannot hear him.

In the ballroom, Luigi waits until the pair of Shy Guys are lined up in front of him, and only then does he start vacuuming. He manages to pull off the masks of both ghosts at the same time, and not wasting a second, Luigi turns on his flashlight at full power, dazzling them. Once the hearts are visible, Luigi only has to vacuum, and Mario thinks he could start applauding when he sees how Luigi manages to hook both ghosts at the same time. It is not easy for him, as both try to throw him off and trip him up, but Luigi does not lose his footing nor his concentration and does not let go of the Poltergust 3000 until both Shy Guys end up inside it.

“Yes!” Mario shouts enthusiastically, and then he does not hold back and claps his hands, still screaming with joy. He ignores the disdainful look that King Boo gives him.

Slowly but surely, Luigi does the same with the next pair of Shy Guys. This time he stumbles, loses the connection with the ghosts and has to start all over again, but he never gives up and, although he gets a small bump after a more serious fall, he gets up again, holds his vacuum cleaner and tries once more.

Mario feels like his heart could burst with pride for his little brother.

At last, there is only one couple left, the first one Luigi tried to capture, the same one that attacked him after he took off the masks of one of its members. Mario sees Luigi swallow before moving towards them, his step a little more unsure, no doubt fearing that they will pounce on him again.

Still, he walks towards them, and Mario wrings his hands inside his portrait, uneasy.

Luigi stops next to the pair of Shy Guys and bites his lip, clutching the Poltergust 3000. He waits patiently for both ghosts to line up so he can suck their masks up at the same time, just as he has done with the previous couples. Mario thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest due to its rapid beating.

Then, Luigi begins to vacuum.

The Shy Guys’ masks shake, but Luigi is too far away and cannot get them to come off. The specters continue their dance, masks in place, spears in their hands, and Luigi is forced to take a small step forward to try again. If it were not for his gloves, Mario would be biting his nails.

Again, Luigi starts to vacuum. Again, the masks of the spirits tremble, but nothing more.

This time, however, they both turn to Luigi.

He lets out a scream of pure terror and runs away from them, but the Shy Guys chase after him. Mario screams and hits the glass of his painting helplessly, wishing to get Luigi out of there, wishing he could go to help him, wishing to warn him that the ghosts are surrounding him, but his brother runs without looking behind him, moved by fear, and does not stop to look at what the spirits are doing.

One of the Shy Guys, the first one Luigi unmasked when he entered the room, intercepts him while he is running: it appears right in front of him with its arms outstretched, making Luigi stop in his tracks and let out a new screech. Luigi turns, frightened, and starts running in the opposite direction, but the other ghost, the one that attacked him, is waiting for him with its bident raised.

And this time, it does not miss.

Mario lets out a heart-rending scream as the two prongs of the Shy Guy’s weapon plunge into his little brother’s chest. A dull ache pierces his heart, and he brings a hand to it out of pure instinct, but he cannot pay attention to it, not when his brother has just been wounded and he has not had a chance to do anything to prevent it. Luigi, in turn, stifles a cry and slowly lowers his gaze, his eyes widening in surprise as he notices the spear sticking out of his body. He drops his knees to the ground, exhaling heavily, and Mario hits the glass that keeps him apart from the world with all his might, desperate and raging.

The Shy Guy pulls out the weapon with a sharp jerk, wrenching a gasp from Luigi that turns into a groan, and floats away with a guttural chuckle as Luigi falls forward and rests his elbows on the ground, his eyes tightly shut. Mario inadvertently holds his breath, his hand still pressed hard to his chest. His brother, wheezing, slowly raises one arm and directs it towards his wound. Despite his posture, on all fours on the black and white floor, Mario can make out his pained expression, the sweat that has begun to bead across his forehead, the way he grinds his teeth, and soon after Luigi’s hand rests on his chest, his white glove begins to turn red.

King Boo’s laughter echoes throughout the room.

“And my Boos didn’t even need to show up!” he sneers.

Mario ignores him, too upset to pay attention. He gasps, his breathing as rapid as his pulse, and tells himself he has to do something to help Luigi. He cannot stand there, he cannot stand by and watch his brother die before his eyes, he cannot...

His frantic thoughts come to a screeching halt when, to his surprise, Luigi pushes himself up with one hand. King Boo’s laughter abruptly stops, and Mario allows himself to retain a modicum of hope when he sees his brother open his eyes and compose an expression full of anger that he does not hesitate to direct at the Shy Guys. His hand is still resting on his chest, his glove is still filling with blood, his breathing is becoming more and more labored, his face continues to be drenched in sweat, but in spite of all that, Luigi grinds his teeth, slowly rests his free hand on his knees and forces his legs to hold him up.

Mario lets out a silent exclamation of astonishment. Pride floods him again, stronger and more intense than the previous times. There is Luigi, his little brother, shaken by convulsions, blood pouring from his chest and staining the denim of his overalls, but still standing up to the ghosts who have dared to hurt him. Trembling, Luigi once again grabs the end of the Poltergust 3000 and points it at the Shy Guys. Without hesitation, he activates the suction mechanism while taking a trembling step forward. Mario holds his breath again.

The specters, who had gone back to dancing casually, paying no more attention to Luigi, are startled when the sound of the vacuum cleaner fills the ballroom. Mario cannot help but smile as he witnesses their vain attempts to flee from the Poltergust 3000. Luigi, relentless, moves heavily after them, making sure to remove their masks to leave them unprotected from the powerful light of his device. Mario is aware of the huge effort his brother is making, of how difficult it must be for him at this moment to stand up and fight the spirits, and pride mingles inside him with a deep admiration for his little brother, for his strength, his temperance and his courage, for his strong capacity of resistance, for his tenacity and his bravery. Silently, Mario watches Luigi catching the last two Shy Guys inside the Poltergust 3000 and smiles, a deep surge of love for his brother filling his heart and invading his insides. He wishes he could hold Luigi in his arms at that moment, cradle him, help him, heal his wound, let him rest, tell him how much he loves him and how willing he is to do anything for him, to protect him at all costs.

Luigi staggers for a few moments, panting, after capturing the specters. He lets go of the end of his vacuum cleaner, which slips from his fingers and dangles to the side of his body, and closes his eyes with a prolonged wheeze. Mario’s alarms go off again, and he straightens up, uneasy, as he sees his brother fall to his knees once more. Luigi leans back on his heels and, very slowly, with increasingly louder pants, raises his hand back to his chest, from which blood has not stopped gushing. His breathing becomes more and more irregular and resounding, as if he was having trouble filling his lungs with air, and Mario rests his palm on the glass with his heart in his mouth. He watches Luigi slump to the side, he watches him clench his eyelids and teeth as he twists the fabric of his overalls between his fingers, and Mario hits the glass again, his brother’s name escaping his lips in a hysterical scream, as Luigi’s head falls, inert, to the ground, followed by his blood-stained hand.

Mario gasps, overwhelmed, anxious, nervous. He ignores King Boo’s raucous laughter and tries to concentrate. He needs to get out of there, he needs to get to Luigi and help him, he needs to… But how? He is trapped inside the painting, he ignores the rules or the boundaries that govern King Boo’s magic, and he does not have time to stop and try to understand them now either. He should have done it before, before his captor allowed him to see Luigi, because now it is too late, and his brother is going to die, and he cannot do anything...

But Mario will not give up.

He will not let his brother bleed to death. He is not going to let Luigi pay for his own thoughtlessness, for his impulsiveness in going to the mansion earlier, for his anxiousness to make sure that everything was in order and nothing could harm Luigi. How ironic, he thinks to himself bitterly, that his intention was always to protect his brother, and, in the end, Luigi was seriously injured.

All because of him.

But Mario has not time to berate himself. His brother needs him. He has to go to his side; he has to manage to break the magical barriers that enclose him and get to Luigi as soon as possible.

He has to help him.

“I’m coming, Lu.”

With his eyes fixed on Luigi, who lies motionless on the floor of the ballroom, Mario begins to step back. He does it slowly, so as not to attract the attention of his captor, but King Boo is too busy laughing, so he does not notice his prisoner’s movements.

Therefore, Mario keeps retroceding, as far as he can, as much as the space inside the frame allows him, and when he thinks he will get enough momentum, he starts to run. He clenches his fists, frowns, and braces himself for the blow, for his attempt will most likely come to nothing, his idea will come to nothing, but he does not for a second consider stopping running.

Luigi needs him.

So Mario runs, gaining speed and momentum, and just as he is about to run into the glass of the painting, he jumps.

He cannot help but let out a scream from deep his gut.

To his surprise, his body crosses the edge of the canvas, remains suspended in the air for a few seconds between the painting and the image of the mansion, and then falls into the latter.

Due to his speed, Mario is unable to brake in time and rolls across the floor of the ballroom until he collides with one of the embedded columns. He immediately gets to his feet, however, and gives himself just a few seconds to collect himself despite the dizziness that assails him. After shaking his head a little to clear his head, Mario turns around, desperately looking for his brother with his eyes.

He finds him very close, with his back to him, completely motionless.

“Lu!” he exclaims, anguish permeating his voice.

Before he even finishes uttering that single syllable, Mario gets up in a hurry and runs to Luigi. He circles his body so he can see his face and his heart breaks a little more at the close-up view of the wounds whose blood stains the black and white tiles of the floor red. With a gasp, Mario drops to his knees beside his brother and places a hand on his forehead and the other on his cheek in an attempt to cradle his face.

“Luigi,” he whispers, wiping away with his palm the sweat from his brother’s forehead.

But Luigi’s eyelids remain firmly closed.

Mario finds it hard to breathe, but he forces himself to remain calm. Carefully, he puts one of his brother’s arms through the handle of the Poltergust 3000 and then lifts his body a little to remove the machine completely. He places it on the floor, behind Luigi’s back, and looks anxiously at his brother again, hoping that that has made him react in some way, but Luigi does not show any sign of having noticed anything. Mario then slips an arm under Luigi’s head and pulls him to himself, gently cradling his brother. He watches Luigi’s unconscious face for a second and his heart shrinks as if a claw were squeezing it. In a sudden rush, Mario wraps his free arm around Luigi’s body and lifts him up a little, holding him close as he shuts his eyes tightly and breathes in, breathes out, breathes in, breathes out, in a vain attempt to calm himself. If only he had been there to protect Luigi, if only he could have stopped it from happening, if only...

But not all is lost. Luigi is wounded, but his heart is still beating. His breathing is slow, paused, irregular, but existing. Slowly, Mario lays his brother on his lap, his eyes fixed on Luigi’s closed eyelids, and runs his hand over Luigi’s forehead once more before daring to look down at his brother’s chest. Mario’s blood runs cold in his veins as he discovers the two wounds, just two small red dots on the denim, through which his little brother’s life is escaping, and he wrinkles his forehead in dismay.

“Mamma mia, Lu...” he mumbles in a broken voice.

With trembling hands due to the nerves that grip his heart, Mario undoes the straps of his brother’s overalls and slowly opens the top buttons of his green shirt. Both garments are heavily stained with blood, as are Mario’s gloves and his own overall after the quick hug he has given Luigi, but he does not care. None of that matters.

All that matters is plugging the wounds and trying to stop the bleeding.

At the last second, however, Mario lets his hand hover, not daring to lay it on Luigi’s pale skin. What if, in trying to help him, he ends up hurting Luigi even more? What if he makes his already bad condition even worse? But the blood will not stop flowing, and his brother is breathing harder and harder, so Mario has to do something. And he has to do it now.

Straining to ignore the worry that runs through his limbs, Mario focuses on his task. He grabs his left sleeve roughly and begins to pull. The fabric is tough and resilient, but Mario is overcome with a panic that gives him more strength than he already possesses by his very nature, so that, in the end, his shirt eventually gives way and Mario manages to tear it. He grasps the resulting piece with both hands and, despite the tremors that shake him with nervousness, he folds it as deftly as he can and lays it over both wounds. Fortunately, they are so close that he does not need to spread the piece of cloth, as he manages to cover them both with ease.

Mario purses his lips and looks again at his brother’s face. He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead again and ends up turning the gesture into a soft caress, but Luigi remains motionless, inert, unable to feel his presence or the touch of his fingers on his pale skin. Mario takes a deep breath, the knot in his heart tightening with every second he feels he is losing his brother, and he struggles to summon the courage to take the next step. Slowly, he returns his hand to its place next to the other, on Luigi’s chest, and biting his lips, he begins to exert light pressure.

He is not completely sure about what he is doing, but the first squeeze causes a slight whimper to escape Luigi’s throat. Mario is startled, and his heart begins to flutter as he sees Luigi shake his head slightly and feels his brother’s fingers, weak and trembling, rest on his. Relief washes over Mario with the force of a raging sea as Luigi’s eyes widen, and in the midst of worry, Mario composes a wide smile.

“Luigi!” he exclaims and moves one of his hands to place it on Luigi’s. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but...”

“M-Mario?” Luigi mumbles, trying hard to keep his eyes open. “I-is it... really you?”

“Of course it is!” Mario assures him, leaning over Luigi so he can see him better, and caresses his cheek affectionately. “I’m here, Lu. I’m with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite not being fully conscious, Luigi manages to smile and raises his other hand to place it on Mario’s. Mario is still trying to plug his wounds, but the blood continues to flow, and his brother soon drops his arm, fainting again. The hand he had taken to the wound slips over Mario’s fingers until it touches the ground, and Mario gives it a quick worried glance before looking back at Luigi.

He feels devastated, but at the same time, seeing his brother awaken, even if only for a very brief moment, has filled him with a fierce determination. Moreover, he is well aware that he has to act quickly, for he has not forgotten King Boo for an instant. If he does not manage to help Luigi, if he does not find a way to heal him, the ghost will reach them, and Mario will not have another chance to try and save his brother’s life.

So, after exerting some more pressure on both wounds, Mario takes off his cap and carefully removes Luigi’s too. He feels the urge to ruffle Luigi’s hair, as he always does when they are joking, but he restrains himself, as it is not the right moment. With extreme gentleness, Mario holds Luigi’s head and begins to pull his own legs out from under his brother’s body. He quickly replaces them with both hats, positioned in such a way that they function as a pillow, trying to get Luigi as comfortable as possible despite his situation. A pang pierces Mario’s heart as he looks at his unconscious face again, and filled with anguish, he places his hands on Luigi’s cheeks, leans over him and deposits a soft and deep kiss on his forehead. If only Luigi could feel it, if only he could feel all the love and affection Mario intends to express with that gesture, if only he could feel how much Mario cares for him and how he wished he could have found a way to spare him all that suffering.

Slowly, Mario turns away from Luigi, gently but firmly presses the wounds again and stands up. He looks around and wonders where he might find the solution to all his problems.

“There has to be something...” he mumbles, undecided.

Unfortunately, there is hardly any furniture in that room, since it is designed only for dancing, so Mario knocks on the walls, shakes the curtains and the chairs, and even kicks a few tiles that seem to be loose, just in case there is a heart hidden in the least unexpected nook. Mario remembers the heart that sprang from the sink, and without hesitation, he tears the red velvet cushions of the chairs with his bloodstained hands, but inside he finds nothing but feathers.

There is nothing.

But it cannot be. There has to be something – there has to. Luigi’s life depends on it. Mario needs that there is something in the ballroom. He cannot consider any other possibility.

A faint whimper catches his attention. As he turns to Luigi, he notices that his facial features have contracted, the sweat has increased, and his head has tilted slightly to the left. Luigi gasps and then turns to the right, and Mario rushes to his side, panic welling up inside him again.

“Lu?” he calls out to his brother, stretching out his hands.

Even though he feels Luigi’s forehead with his glove on, Mario immediately senses the fever. Anguish oppresses his heart, and he feels on the verge of tears, but he must remain calm. His brother needs him more than ever, so he must keep a level head and try to find a solution as soon as possible.

Luigi shakes and mumbles in delirium. Mario carefully wipes his forehead and covers his wounds again, feeling helpless for not being able to do more for his brother. His mind is racing, and he comes up with the crazy idea of leaving Luigi there and venturing into the corridor in search of a heart. He dismisses it immediately, as he refuses to leave the room without Luigi. Whatever happens, he will not leave his brother behind.

Not to mention that, without the Poltergust 3000, Mario would not stand a chance against the ghosts that undoubtedly await him on the other side of the door.

He purses his lips and gently rests his brother’s head on his lap. He continues to press Luigi’s wounds and wipe the sweat from his forehead, and suddenly notices that Luigi’s constricted face appears blurred before his eyes. Angrily, Mario runs his unbroken sleeve over his face and wipes away the tears that were threatening to overflow, but despair floods him and he needs to let it out somehow or he will go mad.

Mario throws his head back with his eyes tightly closed, and from his throat escapes a heart-rending cry that, in a way, is liberating for him. He runs his hand through his disheveled hair, his teeth clenched, his eyes watering again, and wonders what he will do, how he will save Luigi, if he will even find a solution...

He half opens his eyelids a crack, his head still tilted back, and tries to swallow to undo the knot in his throat.

However, something catches his attention so much that it compels him to open his eyes fully.

Something... red.

Mario succeeds hi swallowing when he realizes that what has caught his eye, what rests on the huge ceiling lamp, is nothing but a huge, gleaming heart.

There, at last, lies the answer he has been searching for.

A deep sigh of relief escapes from his lips, which, without him even realizing, have drawn a smile. Mario looks down at his brother and gently caresses his cheek.

“You’ll be all right soon, Lu,” he promises in a faint whisper.

He then turns his attention to the Poltergust 3000, which remains on Luigi’s other side, and observes it for a few seconds, before he dares to extend an arm towards it and pick it up carefully. He lifts it over Luigi and places it on his other side, under the lamp. A bit unsure, as he feels he is meddling in something that does not concern him, Mario grabs the end of the machine, where both the flashlight and the vacuum cleaner are located, and examines the buttons, trying to understand how they work. He fumbles carefully but ends up inadvertently activating the vacuum function. After a brief start, Mario hastens to aim at the ceiling, at the lamp, which shakes and shakes back and forth.

And to Mario’s delight, the glowing heart falls out of it.

The plumber lets out a cry of joy and pulls Luigi tightly against him.

His beloved brother is saved.

[hulhudhonado]

"I Think You And I Should Partner Up"

Part 1 | Part 2

Notes: My silly little headcanon for Pantalone is that he is someone who does his job too well so he is kind of bored of it. Meaning now he likes to use his money to do 'fun things'. I like to think he is also a very experimental and since he has the budget to do weird shit he just does. Have you ever had that weird feeling that you suddenly became very aware of yourself and have this realization that you have free will? Yeah he is constantly in that mindset. So now you, the reader will have to deal with his shenanigans. Sorry it's a bit shorter than the previous one. Enjoy. :)

CW: Blood, Self-inflicted injury, Poison consumption, Cursing, minor character death, mentions of fighting

HC: Reader is gender-neutral and has a masterless vision (Hydro). Reader is also a bit of an idiot in this one sorry.

Characters: Pantalone, Dottore (Mentioned)

Poison

When you first started working for Pantalone you expected him to be someone who did his work quite seriously. However, after observing him, you began to realize he was far from it. He was constantly bored, only putting in the bare minimum effort to get things done.

Reading and answering documents? If it wasn't from the Tsarista herself he barely even glanced at it.

Setting a budget? You watched in horror when he just wrote a million mora cheque and handed it to the fatui soldiers within a heartbeat.

Writing reports for the end of the month? He wouldn't even double-check it after he was done writing.

You began to wonder whether you were going to be ok working under this man when he looked like he barely put any thought into any of the work he was doing. That was before you read his reports.

His handwriting was what caught your eyes first. It was elegant, almost as if it was printed directly onto the paper. If you had not witnessed him writing the reports in front of your eyes you almost wouldn't believe it was written by hand There were no scratched-out works to indicate a spelling mistake or even a spill of ink on the paper.

His writing was also straightforward. You were quite impressed seeing how detailed he could get while making sure not to write any unnecessary information. "You wrote this in one setting?" you asked, skimming through his writing once more. Pantalone looked at you, tilting his head a bit to see your face which was still face-deep in his reports. He wondered why you were so impressed.

"After you write 100 of these it becomes muscle memory. It all feels the same to me." He answered, waiting for you to finally look up from the paper. Realizing you weren't going to stop reading, he huffed annoyed, grabbing the paper out of your hands.

You glared at him, to which he responded with a smile. "Let's do something fun. I'm tired of looking at these already."

Other than his unbothered attitude towards work, you found out that he had quite a twisted personality. His definition of 'fun' was helping you discover your new vision powers. However, unlike a normal person, he always tried to find a way to mess with you while doing so.

You were not blessed by the archons to receive a vision and that was one of the reasons you resented your sister. However, now that you held your sister's masterless vision in your hand, shining as brightly as it did when she was alive you wondered if the vision itself was a curse.

Before you started to work for him, you had to explain to Pantalone how you had gotten your hands on an active vision without being bestowed one personally. He listened eagerly as you began to recall the moment you were almost beaten to death by his soldiers. It pissed you off a bit having to recall a situation that was completely avoidable if his subordinates weren't suck dicks but you continued till the end.

"So I assume you are a healer then? Your ability to heal quickly is quite extraordinary." He asked excitedly. You roll your eyes, sitting back against the velvet cushioned seat, sinking into the comfort of the chair. You didn't expect him to ask so many questions. At this point, he pretty much heard your entire life story since you left Snezhnaya.

"If we somehow found a way to reactivate masterless visions as you did, then maybe we could get rid of the whole delusion production we have going on here. " Pantalone remarked, getting up from his seat. He made his way to his desk, pulling out what seemed to be an envelope opener from his desk. The sharp edges made it fitter to be a dagger. "It would make the process cheaper." He finished, slightly glazing his fingers across the edge of the knife.

You irked an eyebrow at him, wondering what nonsense he planned on pulling now. He smiled at you, making his way back to you. Instead of sitting back in his seat across from you, he stood right next to you. Pulling his glove off his right hand, he began to speak. "Since you are a healer, and a quick one at that, I want to see if that applies to others as well."

Before you could react, he stabbed himself in the palm, dragging the blade from the bottom of his pinkie to the end of his wrist. You jumped out of your chair in shock, knocking back the chair which lead to a resounding thud in the room. You stared at him in disbelief. He put the dagger down on the table, which stained the white cloth lace effectively. He pushed his scarred bloody hand toward you. "Fix it."

You were surprised to see how unphased, his smile never escaping his lips. You could feel a sudden pressure fill the room. You didn't know what you did to heal yourself before, the healing just happened on its own and now Pantalone wants you to heal him in an instant!

You could feel yourself panic, his eyes watching you carefully while you tried to process what to do next. Maybe it was the ringing in your ears due to the stress which made you lose your train of thought or the way you could see his blood flowing between his fingers and dripping on the red carpet floor but without a second thought, you reached for his hand, slowly bringing it towards your lips.

Pantalone watched you, dumbfound, as you placed a soft kiss on his hand. Almost in an instant, he could see stitches made of water form, mending his skin and cleaning up his wounds. The water shined a bright blue light which highlighted all the details of your face. After the wound was stitched by the water threads, the light faded like vapor into the air. It almost looked as if he had never stabbed his hand at all. The only proof it happened was from the blood laced on the knife, the floor, and now on your lips. He wondered if it would stain. Red seemed to be your color.

You let his hand go and he pulled it closer to his face, inspecting it. No scabs or scars. Almost an instant recovery. His face of shock began to spark into a smile. You could see his eyes light up with excitement like a man who had just won the lottery. "What am I? Some kind of prince for you to kiss my hand like that?" He laughed, as he watched your face heat up.

"I panicked! I have never done this before!" You retort back, trying to forget the stunt that you just pulled. "Just be glad it worked!" You huffed, crossing your arms and turning away so you would no longer have to face him anymore.

He watched as you turned away from him. 'Exciting.' He thought again. He has never seen someone with the ability to heal this quickly. Questions flooded his head in an instant. How many times you could heal yourself in a battle until your limit was reached? How many people you could heal at once? What exactly was too much? He just had to find out.

He pulled out a handkerchief from his coat. "Well you better start finding another way to heal, I don't think I can explain to my coworkers why my new bodyguard keeps kissing me whenever I get hurt." You turned back around to yell at him only to be stopped by a handkerchief being placed on your lips, wiping off the blood that was on your face. Sadly for him, the color didn't stain.

---

Another thing you noticed when working alongside Pantalone was the fact he kept most meetings with clients short. So imagine your surprise when he kicked you out of his office for longer than 30 minutes. You stayed stationed out his door, whistling a tune out of boredom. You were not allowed to venture far away from him since you were technically his bodyguard, but you never could stay in the same room as him while he conducted his meetings since you were not a registered Fatui soldier.

You could hear panicked muffles and the moving of chairs inside the room, indicating that he was done. You stood up straight against the wall, watching his client storm out of the room in a hurry. You curiously peeked inside to see Pantalone still in his seat. His eyes locked with yours and his fake smile drifted away, forming into a more genuine one. He beckoned you inside and you complied.

He stood up from his seat, stretching his limbs while you entered the room, closing the door behind you. "Tough meeting?" "Very." He answered, yawning. "He just wouldn't give up. He said I was being cheap with the costs."

You hummed at him, making your way toward him. You eyed his desk. There were two cups and a teapot placed for both him and his guest. One cup was visibly empty while the other one remained full. "You're not going to drink that?" You asked.

Pantalone looked down at the cup of tea before giving you a shrug. "Not really." He turned to look out the window. His client slowly made his way toward the gate. His movements becoming more sluggish the closer he went to the door. Pantalone watched him as he began to slow down before completely passing out on the snowy floor. He didn't even make it past the gate. The fatui soldiers nearby began to drag him out of Pantalone's vision. He sighed to himself, turning back to face you. The cup of tea was no longer on his desk and in your hands.

He watched in horror as you placed the cup of tea to your lips. You drank it in an instant, licking your lips to make sure you got every last drip of it. It was sweet and you could taste a hint of floral in it. "What was in it? Limp grass? Sweet flower?" You asked, you had never tasted such a unique blend before.

"Poison." "Huh?" The room fell entirely silent. You and Pantalone stared at each other, waiting for something to happen. He spoke up again. "It was poison."

Your hands began to shake. "Why did you poison both cups?!" You shouted, the cup dropping from your hands and shattering on the ground. You grabbed your neck, you could feel it tingle and you began to worry the effects were already happening. "It was just the easiest option! Why did you drink it in the first place?!" He yelled back, making his way towards you. He grabbed you by the shoulders to hold you steady.

"It smelled nice! I didn't want it to go to waste!" You retort back. Pantalone grabbed you by the face, roughly turning your head around while you could feel tears stream down your face. You didn't want to die because of something so stupid. The tears were more of embarrassment than fear. "Do you feel anything?" Pantalone asked, a lot quieter. His face was full of concern trying to see if any of the visible symptoms he was told would surface on you.

You shook your head, the tears still streaming down your face. "My throat just feels a bit tingly, nothing else." You answered, sniffling a bit. Pantalone frowned. The poison effects were supposed to be in an instant. He had just watched someone die by the exact poison that you consumed. However, it seemed nothing was happening at all. "Are you perhaps immune to it?" He asked. His hand never left your face. He wiped some tears away as you slowly began to calm down.

You could feel yourself frown too. He let you go when you pushed him away to touch your face and neck again, you really did not feel anything else. His face of concern now lighting up again. You knew that face the minute he began to smile again. It was his 'something fun' face. You could feel yourself turn red from embarrassment. "You mean I was crying over nothing?" You mumbled, now ashamed of thinking you were going to die such a stupid death.

"How fascinating!" Pantalone exclaimed, you watched him circle you excitedly, looking you up and down as if you were the most incredible thing that he has ever witnessed with his eyes. "You're immune to poison! That's incredible! Do you know how common it is to be poisoned like that? This is wonderful." You watched as he excitedly babbled to you. "I thought I was going to die!" You whined, covering your face in your hands to hide your shame while he continued to circle you.

Pantalone was having the time of his life. Not only were you a quick healer, but you also were immune to poison! Ever since he had met you again it felt like he was a child discovering the world for the first time. His usual harbringer life which was only full of paperwork and meetings now had some spice to it. He looked at you, seeing the red tint on your face seeping through the gaps of your fingers. 'Red was most certainly your color' he thought, a playful grin resting on his face. What other surprises could you show him? He just had to know.

"I wonder…" You immediately look up from your hands to see him eye the teapot on his desk. You put two and two together. He looked back at you, your eyes locking and now stuck in a staring match, waiting to see who would make the next move. Pantalone was the first to break, immediately diving towards the teapot. You followed suit, trying to grab it before he could do something stupid yet again.

Sadly you were not quick enough. He grabbed the pot putting it up to his lips, chugging the tea from the spout. He dropped the teapot after he was done, the pot crashing right next to the shattered cup on the floor. You could see tea drip from the side of his mouth. He smirked at you, while all you could do was stare at him in disappointment. "Fix it."

---

You healed him again. Since you began training to use the vision you were glad this time you could conjure up your healing magic through your hands instead of having to kiss him. He frowned when you did so. "It would have been a lot more fun if you had kept kissing me instead." You rolled your eyes at him. "Just be glad I bothered saving you. You could have died just now!" He gave you a wide smiled grin that you wanted to punch right off his face. Who knew he would be such a pain in the ass to work with.

He lay on the couch, still recovering from the poison he had consumed. The side effects of the poison were still present even after you had saved him from certain death. It seemed your healing ability was mostly efficient to you than to others. You noted that you probably had to train more to improve this. "It was a powerful poison. I'm surprised the only thing you felt was a tingle." He groaned, clutching his head in pain. "Who would make such a poison like that?" You asked, immediately reaching to fetch the bottle of water on the stand nearby. You handed it to him and he gladly took it.

"The Doctor of course. Well to be fair, I commissioned him to make it." He answered, chugging the bottle within seconds. "I wanted to find more interesting ways to, uh, get rid of unwanted presences and he always delivered as long as I funded it." Pantalone didn't look you in the eyes when he said it. He handed you the water bottle which you kept back on the stand, alongside the rest of the empty bottles of water that he had been chugging down for the past few hours. You found the easiest method to heal others was using a consumable material. You picked another bottle out from a pack from the floor, expelling your magic to give it healing properties. You sighed, looking at Pantalone who watched your hands carefully as they lit up with magic droplets and rings of water.

"The poison itself didn't do anything exciting. He just went into a fit, stormed out saying it was too hot in here, and just passed out on the snow." You looked at him, disapprovingly. He looked up at you innocently. " Do you REALLY not have anything better to do?" He hummed, which was enough to make you sigh once again.

"The poison was not that exciting, but I'm glad I got to see you do something fun again." You glared at him and he returned it with another wide toothy smile.

"I want to kill you."

"Go ahead, make a mess of me."

[tiredshaman]

pov: Eyeless Jack is the best doctor in the world

- Ay, that's fu... - Yasuda bit his lip to keep from swearing.

- What a rich vocabulary you have, however. - Jack grinned hoarsely, threading the needle through the skin. - Others give me whole obscene monologues, but you still hold on.

- When will the painkillers already take effect? - Yasuda exhaled, wiping the cold sweat on his forehead with a trembling hand.

- When, will work then will work. Be grateful that I gave it to you at all. - Jack checked the first few stitches and muttered thoughtfully to himself. - My reserves are not infinite. Considering that you get injured at an enviable frequency, it's surprising that I have anything left of the medicines.

Yasuda leaned his head back on the iron table and shuddered violently, the surface was cold, as well as all the basement rooms. Jack growled something, and asked irritably:

- What's in my words "don't move, otherwise I'll fucking pierce you in the wrong place", don't you understand?

- Yes, everything is clear to me. - Yasuda winced once again, feeling the needle move in his wound. - Simple... It's cold in here.

- But corpses don't rot so fast. - Jack chuckled and ordered, - Now shut up. Don't stop me from working.

Yasuda squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly. However, it was not necessary to close your eyes, considering that the room was almost dark. There was only a thin strip of light under one of the doors. In fact, why would a blind person need light? He's doing just fine without him. How well the wound is being sewn up for him, it even seems, with some professional negligence.

The pain was dulling, Yasuda almost did not feel the needle in his skin anymore. Breathing has leveled off.

- Let go of the table.

- What? - Yasuda asked, suddenly realizing that his throat was dry.

- Let go of the table, I'm telling you. I need you to turn around. - Jack repeated with tired irritation.

Yasuda unclenched his numb fingers with difficulty.

He didn't even notice that he was holding onto the table all this time.

Jack continued to stitch up his wound.

It was getting sleepy, but Yasuda tried not to move once again, so as not to annoy Jack even more. And then you never know. Toby told that he was once tied to the operating table. He was not himself, and tried to resist too actively. Then walked for several days with terrible bruises from the ropes.

Footsteps echoed hollowly down the corridor. The voices got closer and became more distinct. It seems, Masky and Hoodies. And the first one was clearly very unhappy. It looks like Hoodie was delaying his visit to Jack again until the last moment. Speaking of which.

- Why is Hoodie so afraid of you? Did you really take a bite out of him after all?

- I'm going to take a bite out of you if you don't shut up.

- And when will I be able to remove the stitches? - Yasuda couldn't bring himself to be silent for some reason. Maybe a side effect of the painkiller?

- I haven't sewed you up yet, and you're already asking about the removal of stitches. - If Jack could, he would probably roll his eyes right now.

- Well...

- When I tell you, then you'll take it off. Now shut up. - Jack shook his head irritably. - You're just like Toby, that jerk talks all the time too. Next time, I'll inject you with a double dose of painkillers, you'll fall asleep and at least you won't bother me.

- The main thing is that I would not fall asleep forever. Yasuda muttered, looking at the opening doors.

English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes.

Written based on: "pov: your room is next to eyeless jack's (background noises)"

This author makes really great playlists!

[mahpaiam]

4 December 2023

It's already December and everything is so hard. I'm really sad. I've changed a lot but so many things are the same. I'm still running away from how much Bernardo hurt me. Even though it's almost been half a year ago. I'll get more into why that hurt me so bad. I've realized lots more about it.

I haven't written here in a long time -- I'll admit that. One part is due to how scared I am to relish in the thoughts about Bernardo. I think about him so much, you would think i'd be tired of it. I really just want to stop but I can't. I'm dying here. I think about what it'd be like if i saw him again, if I chose Berkeley. I think about a life where I'm prettier and he realizes he made a mistake. It's all in my head.

I actually feel like I'm dying right now. I checked his page today. I don't usually, it's maybe a once a week every few weeks. I'm good about it. I checked the comments for his post and saw a girl commenting heart hands. I remember when he first posted I checked her page for a boyfriend. Now he isn't there anymore, but he was. I then thought about why she would type that. Did they sleep together? I don't know. I started crying and thinking about how mean that was. How mean he was to me. It makes me hurt a lot.

I think the biggest takeaway I took from it was that someone looked at me, made me feel so great, and then discarded me after. I gave too much, I know that, I have a tendency to have my heart on my sleeve and my emotions as the first contact on my face. I gave him my heart on a platter like a stupid little girl and he took it and crushed it. I should have known. There was so much trauma I underwent with him and for a good while. It was a lot. I remember how I woke up looking and feeling like a corpse. I remember how the first thing I'd do was check his page. It was like his life was playing out, everyone's was playing out, somewhere out there and I was stagnant. I was having the worst summer at home. How he stopped texting me on my birthday. Awful.

This summer was so traumatic and I think about what I had to go through and just cry. I cry for so long. I think about how he made me hurt and how I, even now, would welcome him back. It's some sick part of me that's that way, I wish I could erase it. It's been months and I still can't forget about him and how he hurt me. I keep thinking the same questions, like there was something wrong with me in order for him to treat me like that. Analyzing the mystery, because I never got an answer. His silence was one but I'm just not good at taking hints. I don't know. I hate being hurt.

I think about all I went through at home, all alone. I feel so bad for that version of myself; how much she was cut open and laid bare.

Today is the Monday before finals week. I'm so tired from school and sick. My mother and I just got in a fight. I snapped at her because I was so mad that, although I'm a 20 year old, she steps into my room and interrogates me instantly on whether I'm doing something wrong or not. Like a child. We fight, I raise my voice because I'm upset and she doesn't understand, or try to. I hate being a 20 year old in my childhood home. I feel like a person who's overgrown their skin.

This finals season, I have a paper for gender and sexuality, a podcast + paper for gender and sexuality, a quiz and a final for public health, and finally two double exams in physics back to back. I don't know how I'll survive. But I'll get A's I think

[perfectlypanda]

Zutara and the (un)Importance of Canonicity

(This has been languishing in my drafts for ages, but I want to use a quote from it for an edit I’ll be posting for Zutara Week so it’s finally getting yeeted into the void.)

A lot of emphasis in fandom shipping is placed on the canonicity of a romantic pairing within its source text, with canonicity often being used as a marker of superiority. However, the term “canon” is not an indication of the value or the quality of something. All it refers to is if something is explicitly present in a text or not.

For example, if someone said that it’s canonical that Aang and Katara kissed in the AtLA Book 2 episode “The Cave of Two Lovers”, they would be incorrect, because a kiss is not explicitly present in the text. Aang and Katara lean in like they are about to kiss and then the screen goes black. The audience does not see a kiss, nor is one ever discussed later. There are valid arguments that could be made to support if someone interprets a kiss as having happened or not happened, but because there is not confirmation in the text, a kiss at that moment is not canonical. 

With Avatar, what’s “canon” gets a little tricky because there are multiple “canon” texts - Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: Legend of Korra, and the Avatar graphic novels. While officially they are all part of the Avatar world “canon”, there are elements within LoK and the graphic novels that are inconsistent with the world as presented in AtLA (so many in the graphic novels my god). This means that for certain things the canon includes elements that are mutually exclusive, creating a paradox. To examine Avatar canon you either have to engage with doublethink, or play “pick your own canon” and decide which text’s canon takes precedent (personally, AtLA takes priority when there is a discrepancy because it came first but ymmv). It gets even messier if you want to take into consideration commentary by creators. Although it should be noted that just because a creator says something about their work, that doesn’t necessarily make it canonical if it isn’t also explicit in the text.

If you’re looking at a text from an analysis standpoint, then something being “canon” or not is important, because an argument that can be backed up with evidence from the text will be stronger than an argument that can’t be backed up with evidence from the text. Otherwise... something being canonical is only as important as you make it.

Creators are not infallible, so sometimes they make bad choices. There are so many times when creators did not, objectively, make the strongest choice in something they included in their text. Think about every time that a book, tv show, or movie franchise continued on past its shelf life. It’s especially obvious in cases where a main actor/ actress left the series, but the creators decided to continue the story anyway. Or when a book/ movie/ mini series had a tightly written plot, but does so well that the creators decide to write unnecessary sequels to cash in on the popularity. A creator can make a truly terrible decision within their story, and it will be just as canonical as good choices they make solely by virtue of being included in the “official” text.

All of which is to say that a ship being canonical or not canonical has no bearing on if a ship is the best romantic pairing for characters based on the traits or dynamic explored within the canon text. All it indicates is if the creators decided to involve those two characters in a romantic relationship within the text.

I’ve been shipping Zutara since 2006, and I spent a long time bitter about them not ending up “canon” in the show (OG shipping wars anyone?). But now? Well, it would have been nice if that was the direction the show had gone, but canon or not, it doesn’t change the fact that a Zuko/ Katara pairing would have been an objectively stronger narrative choice. Or that for all Bryke’s bullying and insistence that I will “forever have doomed relationships”, I still like Zutara better than the canonical relationships they decided to go with on the show.  

So if someone asks me if a romantic Zutara relationship is “canon” within the context of AtLA, then no it isn’t. But for me, that’s literally the only place where Zuko and Katara aren’t deeply in love and living their best lives together. AtLA is a work of fiction, and fictional characters are just as fictional when a fan thinks about them as when the character’s creator thinks about them. A story is only as real as you make it. And for me? Zutara is real.

[panicattheattic]

Falling Asleep on Them Headcanons

Lucifer

So you were in trouble right?

Yup, you aren't even sure what you did this time.

But here you were.

In Lucifer's room.

Getting a talking-to that's been going on for like 3 hours now.

At this point you were sitting beside Lucifer on his bed.

Kinda looking towards him, but not really paying attention.

But he just kept going on and on.

Eventually you started to get really sleepy.

Ah that's right, you were in trouble for staying out so late...

You tried to fight the drowsiness fearing you'd just get in trouble again.

That didn't work so well.

Soon you were slumped over, fast asleep.

Lucifer felt your weight on him and he knew immediately you had fallen asleep.

That may or may not have been part of his plan.

To be fair, he originally was just going to give you one of his extensive speeches about following the rules.

But once he saw you were barely staying awake, he decided to take advantage of it.

Can you blame him?

You look so adorable when you sleep.

Just don't be alarmed when you wake up tomorrow in Lucifer's bed all snuggled up in his sheets.

Mammon

He was over at your room.

Again.

You were watching a compilation of the best Lord of Fools moments from the TSL anime.

Mammon was crying, but that's besides the point.

You held on to his arm in order to comfort him.

"I-I'm fine, ya dummy! Ya think the great Mammon needs someone to hold him??"

You managed to convince him it was for you instead of him, so he let it slide.

Not that that was something difficult for him to do.

The warmth that radiated off of him was calming, so calming infact, that you couldn't help snuggling into his side even more and drifting off to sleep.

At first when he noticed, Mammon nearly freaked out.

"W-Wha' do ya think your doin'?!"

But upon confirming that you really were asleep.

And since no one else was around.

He let his true feelings show.

He gently moved your hair from your face as he gazed upon you lovingly.

The position might have not been comfortable for either of you, but he didn't dare move for fear of waking you.

He didn't want the moment to end.

Leviathan

You were watching an anime from the human world.

The original Dragon Ball.

You wanted to show it to Levi because you thought he'd enjoy it's quirky humor.

But you didn't have the same magical energy that "Master Otaku Leviathan" had.

You really couldn't stay up all night as much as you tried.

It was well after midnight when your head fell on his shoulder.

You fell asleep without meaning to.

To say that Levi nearly died would be an understatement.

What was happening?

What were you doing?

This sorta thing only happens in animes!

And not to guys like him!

Right?

Yeah, if you woke up you'd probably be upset at him for allowing this...

B-but maybe not?

Levi was happy, scared, excited and mortified all at the same time.

He tensed up so bad that he was in more muscle pain than you when you woke up.

Satan

So this was a pretty usual occurrence actually.

Whenever you would read together, all cuddled up, it often ended with you falling asleep with your head on his chest.

Depending on the book (like if he knew you actually liked it) he'd stop reading and set the book aside.

He'd hold you and stare at you, mesmerized by the soothing rise and fall of your chest.

He'd stay wherever you were until you woke up, sometimes falling asleep himself.

But if couldn't sleep, he'd stroke your hair and enjoy the simplicity of your breathing.

Asmodeus

You were sharing a bath in Asmo's super cushy bathroom.

You were wearing bathing suits, something Asmo half-heartedly pouted about.

He was going off about style and devilgram drama.

As much as you wanted to listen to him.

Because he was undeniably cute when he was honestly passionate about something.

You were starting to feel incredibly sleepy.

Probably because Asmo had kept you up the entire night before.

Just doing each other's make up and gossiping. (Get out of that gutter, please.)

You were kinda worried you'd drown if you fell asleep in here, but you knew Asmo would keep you safe.

So you eventually gave in to sleep.

Asmo noticed when you sank a bit lower in the water.

"MC? Are you-- Ooh~ How adorable!!"

He tried to keep his squeals of delight as quiet as possible.

He failed.

Thankfully you were well an truly down for the count at this point.

He wanted to let you sleep so he could just watch your cute sleeping face.

But he didn't want your skin to get pruny and dry so he did his best to carry you back to his room without waking you.

You did wake up, but just slightly.

All he could make out from your slurred, half-awake talking was his name.

He could have died from the cuteness then and there.

Though, not gonna lie, he was really curious about whatever you could be dreaming about.

Pushing that thought aside (for now) he set you down on a towel which he had placed on his bed and, after getting dry, laid down beside you.

He couldn't help but stroke your face as he too drifted off to sleep with a smile.

Beelzebub

Okay, so you know how after you eat a lot you get really sleepy?

Well there was a big meal today, since Simeon showed up offering to cook Celestial realm food, and you jumped on the chance to stack your plate with heavenly goodies.

Through the meal, you were very aware of Beel eyeing your plate as he ate across from you.

You knew what he was thinking.

There was no way you could finish all that food.

And usually he would have been right.

You felt just about ready to burst.

But it wasn't every day you got to eat Simeon's cooking and, damnit, you were going to enjoy it!

It also didn't help that the way Beel kept hungrily eyeing your food made you all the more possessive over it.

It was your food!

And you were gonna eat it!

And that was a mistake.

You ate way too much and after your stomach ache went down all that was left was sleepiness.

And so that led to Beel checking up on you while you laid on your bed in receding pain.

He was reasonably worried after watching you eat much more food than you should physically be able to handle.

When he asked you how you felt you only responded with a groan and beckoned him over.

When he sat down on your bed, you placed your head in his lap.

Beel felt warmer than after eating a super spicy double cheeseburger from Hell's Kitchen.

So he happily let you sleep as he rubbed your back, hoping to help you feel better.

Belphegor

You honestly have no clue how you ended up falling asleep quicker than Belphie.

Well, you were pretty tired already from studying so much.

And your tutor did keep insisting on being a bad influence.

And when the person who's supposed to be helping you learn is purposely trying to lull you to sleep, going so far as to put his favorite cow patterned pillow under your head...

It's kinda hard to stay awake.

Belphie was really upfront about having no interest in studying, preferring to just cuddle and nap.

But when you persisted he "agreed" to help you study.

He knew sleep better than anyone, so putting you to sleep would be easy.

By the time you did fall asleep however, he hadn't expected to find your head on his arm rather than on his pillow.

Not that he was complaining.

He was definitely not complaining.

But now that he had you, he wasn't planning on letting go until he was no longer sleepy.

So if you don't like cuddling, you might want to get used to it.

~Aqua

[kinglazrus]

In Case of Emergency

Chapter 7: Where Everything Starts to Fall Apart

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Chapter Summary: Danny's thoughts begin to spiral.

Chapter word count: 2005

—

Lancer knows. Lancer knows. Lancer knows. Those two words repeat on loop, echoing in Danny's head as he soars over Amity Park through the wind and rain. It started as a drizzle not long after he left Lancer's house, but it wasn't long before the wind picked up and the rain grew into fat drops. Now it pelts against Danny, plastering his hair to his forehead, soaking into his clothes. The bandages on his shoulder feel heavy. It stings every time a drop hits his stitches. The rain, combined with a relentless wind, beats Danny down. He can barely see, barely think except for those two words.

Lancer knows. Lancer knows. Lancer knows.

Danny's chest sparks. Before he can realize what's going on, he plummets from the sky. He only has a second to brace himself, wrapping his good arm around his head before he hits the ground. A burning pain tears through his left shoulder as he skids across the sidewalk and tumbles into the road. Danny cries out, but can't do anything until he stops rolling. Once he finally does, he lays splayed out in the street. He should get up. Move. This isn't a safe place to rest, but Danny is so tired. If his pain was at an eight before, it has hit eleven now. Just the thought of lifting his head hurts.

By now, his double vision is gone. It was gone by the time he woke up from his nap at Lancer's place. His headache has returned with a vengeance, however. All that rattling around as he fell. He opened his mouth to catch his breath but ends up catching raindrops instead. He is forced to turn onto his side if he wants to breathe properly, but he's not even sure if he wants to do that. Breathing, like everything else, hurts, too. He has to move, though.

Danny drags himself out of the middle of the road—a bad place to sit at any time, much less during a storm like this—and huddles against a parked car. He felt fine back at Lancer's place, but his frantic flight pushed his limits. Turns out Lancer lives a lot farther outside the city than Danny expected. The morning commute must be a bitch.

The car doesn't protect Danny much, at least not from the rain; it blocks some of the wind. He waits until he has caught his breath before checking his shoulder. The sight of his favourite jacket startles him. Danny holds his arm out, surprised to see red sleeves instead of black. Through the rain and the pain, he hadn't noticed the transformation. It explains a lot, though. Danny unzips his jacket and works the sleeve down. The bandages underneath are dark. At first, Danny panics. It takes a lot of blood to turn a bandage that dark—he knows from experience. It's not blood, though. The bandage is black.

His relief is short-lived. Danny peels the tape off and pulls the bandage up, leaning out of the car's shadow and into the nearest pool of light from the streetlamps. The skin underneath glistens red. There's too much blood for him to see the state of the stitches, but he assumes it's bad.

"Shit," he mutters. "I'm such an idiot."

Every decision he has made since saving the doctor has been a mistake. Going with her, calling Lancer, he never should have done any of it. But that's what Danny does. He wrecks things. He wrecked the future, once. He wrecked the past by putting everything in motion with that stupid portal. And now he's wrecking the present with his own stupidity. Danny never should have gone with the doctor in the first place. He has enough experience treating his own wounds. Everything would have been fine. But it's too late. And now... Danny doesn't know what happens now. If Lancer calls the Guys in White, or Danny's parents, it's all over. He will spend his last days splayed out on a dissection table. At least he will get to see what his insides really look like. Danny's voice cracks as he laughs. What a mess he is.

It's hard to see through the rain, but Danny tries his best to get a good look at his surroundings, get his bearings. There's a familiar store nearby. A dessert place Tucker likes. If Danny remembers right, it's only a couple of streets away from Tucker's house, and not much further to Fenton Works. Maybe ten blocks in all. He can do that. He can make it that far. Bracing himself against the car, Danny pulls himself up and tries to transform. He only sees a spark of white before a stabbing pain rips through his chest, sending him back to his knees. He gasps, struggling to catch his breath—his stupid breath in his stupid lungs that he apparently doesn't have as a ghost. It hurts, God, it hurts. Not just the ripped stitches in his arm or the stabbing in his chest, but the look of horror in Lancer's eyes seconds before Danny fled. The man had only asked a simple question, but that was all Danny needed.

Lancer was too smart. He cared too much. Why did he have to care? Everyone else so easily accepts what they see on the surface. They look at Danny, his bruises, his poor attendance, and think that's a delinquent in the making. A troubled teen. They sneer and turn their backs. Just look at the other teachers, at Sam's parents. His own? Danny shakes his head. No, no, not them. They care. They care. He wishes Lancer didn't, though.

He hobbles to the end of the street, limping, and curling his arms around his stomach. What a sight he must make for anyone looking through their windows. The great Danny Phantom, humbled by a few tonnes of concrete. Pathetic. As he hobbles home, he wishes he could be in ghost form. Judging by the state of his powers right now, flying would be out of the question, and he can hobble just as well in either form. But the numbing effect of his core is always stronger as a ghost. The natural cold he exudes provides a modicum of comfort, although the rain is making him cold enough. Maybe even too cold. Danny shivers—something he doesn't do much anymore—and curls into himself. He has a long way to go.

Tucker's bedroom light is on when Danny finally reaches his house. A part of him wants to go inside and seek out the comfort of his best friend. That's what a smart person would do. Another part of him, a larger and louder part, wants to go home and collapse into his bed. He should let his friends know that he's safe but telling them that would mean telling them what happened today. Telling them about Lancer.

Danny moves on without so much as knocking on Tucker's window. He wants to hold on to that horrifying fact for a little longer. If he tells his friends, then they have to deal with it, acknowledge it. If he keeps it to himself, just for tonight, he can pretend everything is fine.

Today was great. Danny handed in his essay on time. He avoided Dash's ire for a full six hours at school. A herd of animal ghosts forced him to ditch the last period, but that was okay. He managed to take them down one by one. Caught the last ghost seconds before it could ram into a nearby building. He suffered the usual superficial wounds that animal ghosts leave. They're always a little more volatile, less predictable. Like wrangling a real animal, except half the time they can throw ectoblasts.

Today was great and now Danny is on his way home to reward himself with a good night's rest. Today was great.

Lancer knows. Lancer knows. Lancer knows.

—

The first thing Danny does after phasing through his front door is check the time. According to the living room clock, it's past one o'clock. That's ten hours since he last talked to his friends. Longer since he saw his parents. Guilt makes Danny's stomach turn. They must have been worried. Without Jazz home to act as a buffer between them, his parents have started paying more attention to him. It's nice, on the one hand. On the other, it makes hunting harder. It's not easy finding excuses for why he skips class and stays out late so much.

Danny limps his way up the stairs. He tries to keep his steps light, but exhaustion wears on him. His shoes thump against the stairs. Oh. He forgot to take them off at the door. Turning back, he finds a trail of soggy footprints marking his path across the floor. He winces at the sight of it. Tomorrow, when he's feeling better, he will take care of that. On the landing, he pauses to catch his breath, leaning against the newel post. Ten more feet. Just ten more feet and then he can go to bed and let sleep take him.

A door creaks down the hall. Danny goes invisible out of reflex. Good thing, too, because his parents' bedroom door opens, spilling light into the hallway. His mom sticks her face through the opening.

"Danny?" she asks.

He shrinks, taking a step back down the stairs. Even though he is already invisible, the paranoid part of him panics when Maddie scans the hall. Her gaze pauses on the stairs. She shouldn't be able to see him, but the way her stare lingers makes him squirm. Eventually, too long for Danny's comfort, she moves on and settles her gaze on his bedroom door.

"Is he there, Mads?" Jack's voice comes from the bedroom.

"Let me check." Maddie emerges into the hall fully, dressed in her pyjamas. She breezes by Danny on the stairs and knocks on his closed bedroom door.

"Danny?" she calls again. No answer, obviously. Danny holds himself as still as possible, not even daring to breathe. "I'm opening the door."

Maddie peeks inside. When she finds the room empty, she leans back and pushes the door open.

"He's not here, Jack," she says.

"I could have sworn I heard something."

"So did I." They sound worried. Danny should show himself. Someone tonight should get to know that he is okay. He leans forward, about to drop his invisibility, when Maddie continues. "I don't know what to do, Jack. Has he always been like this?"

Jack pokes his head out of the master bedroom. He dons a frown, following Maddie's gaze into the empty bedroom. "I don't know."

"I know he started pulling away when he began high school, but I thought that was normal. Teenagers do that all the time. Remember Jazz? She became so independent after she started reading those psychology books. But Danny... he isn't like that. He is always gone, always late, and never tells us anything. I found a pair of jeans with bloodstains in his laundry last week."

Jack grimaces. That's not the standard reaction a parent should have when hearing about something like this. He doesn't look shocked, just disappointed. As if he expected it. As if this isn't the first time his parents have found something like this.

"Did we just not notice?" Maddie continues. "I know our work can be consuming but we've tried, haven’t we? And he still—" Maddie cuts herself off with a sigh.

"We're doing our best, Mads."

"Jazz turned out so good. Where did we go wrong with Danny?"

Silence falls. Neither Jack nor Maddie has an answer to that question. With a final shake of her head, Maddie turns and heads back to bed. She takes the light with her as she closes the door behind her, leaving the hall dark once more.

Danny, still huddled on the stairs, stares at the floor with tears in his eyes.

As he said, he wrecks everything.

—

Next

[mamavanheat]

Pullout Couch

Hey guys, this is my first writing project that I've ever finished. I got inspired by fellow writers on here and decided to try to make my own. I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry if there's any grammar mistakes.

WARNING 18+ NO MINORS

Josh X Female!Reader

Backstory: You're a photographer and just returned from a trip taking photos for prints. You realize you lost your keys and it's so late you don't want to bother your friend to come back to your apartment. But you remember there is someone a couple floors away you think might let you stay until you can call for another key.

You feel like you had been on the plane forever and your legs are finally starting to feel normal again walking from your friend's car back towards your apartment building. It was somewhere 2 AM and all you could think about was having a nice hot bath and finally being able to relax. Your 2-week trip had been filled with travel and photoshoots all over the country. You had a good feeling a lot of your shots would sell well this time.

Turning with a smile at your friends exhausted face both of you say your goodbyes and thank her for picking you up and dropping you off so late. Slowly you make your way down the hall from the elevator dragging your suitcase and bags. As you approach your door, you blow the strand of hair from your eyes with a huge sigh and start to dig in your bag for your keys.

After a couple minutes you start to panic a little. Oh fuck. A little annoyed, you toss your bags on the ground and slouch your back against the wall covering your face with your hands.  You slide your back down the wall and scroll through your phone contacts trying to remember if anyone would be up this late to let you crash at their place. Another sigh, and you check your phone for the time. Damn, it’s already 2. I guess it’s too late to call anyone.

Tired and helpless you pull up Instagram and scroll for a while not sure exactly what to do. You scroll past a post of a friend’s friend. It was a picture of him and his band of brothers. You double tap the pic and kept scrolling. Then the thought hit you like a bag of bricks. Wait, doesn’t he live a couple floors above me? You only met a couple times hanging out with your friends but he did mention living in the same building as you. You sit for a moment trying to rack your brain of the number apartment he lived in. Shutting your eyes for a moment you trace through every conversation about it you remember. Was it 614- no I think it started with 5. Hmmm.... 524?

Feeling once again helpless you grunt a little and scroll back through the texts between you and him. Then finally you come across that time he saw your prints and asked if he could buy a few. He texted you his apartment number but you never got around to replying to him about it. Okay he said he’s staying in roooooooom...AHA! It is 524! Finally, you had an escape from just sleeping in the hallway, which would have been your next plan.

Grabbing your bags from the floor, you hastily make your way to the elevator and hit the number 5. Staring at the floor numbers making your way up, you thought maybe you should try to send him a warning text or something in case he had someone over. You didn’t know him well, but you knew him well enough to know him and his brothers love company. You make the maze down the hallway until you reach his door. Taking a deep breath and hoping to not receive rejection, you lightly knock on the door. After a second with no response, you knock again a little harder this time.

Turning your back and thinking to yourself how uncomfortable the floor in front of your apartment was going to be, you hear the door knob turn and click open. Turning back around, you see Josh with his messy hair and almost closed eyes looking at you.  His collar bones contoured around his frame. His chest was bare and he had a pair of sweatpants on resting below his hips. You were taken back by how sexy you thought he was in that exact moment. I don’t think he recognizes me.

“Uh, hello?” he mumbled. Then he let out a big yawn covering his mouth with his fist.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry to wake you up. I know it’s super late, but I lost my keys and I was kinda hopin-”

“Oh, shit Y/N. I didn’t realize it was you. Yeah, come on in,” he waved his hand letting you know it was okay to enter.

Stumbling over your words once again trying to apologize for waking him so late you start sputtering out, “I just got back from my trip and like I said I can’t find my keys. I thought it was too late to call anyon-”

“Y/N, it’s all good,” he stated with a lazy smile. He was being geniune. His eyes were filled with kindness and understanding.

Shuffling inside still holding your bags and looking for a place to put them, you take in his apartment. It was a studio like yours, but his had this amazing brick accent wall in the living room. He only had a lamp in the living area and by his bed lit. You can tell he lit them making his way to the door. You see a small area behind the couch separating the kitchen and living space so you lay your bags there. Looking around to take in his little apartment was nice. It was clean and minimal but had a nice rustic charm to it. You notice he all the instruments in the corner across from the couch. Along the other wall was a huge record collection. Some of the covers you recognized and some you’d never heard of before.

“So um, I’m gonna try to go back to sleep. There’s a couple pillows on the couch, but let me grab you a blanket.” He said retrieving a small throw from the closet. Handing you the blanket your fingers brush past each other and it felt like slow motion. You think he realized it also because he paused for a second and looked at you with a small smirk. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a small sigh.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Shrugging your shoulders and giving a shy smile. “I didn’t have anywhere else I could think of going.”

“No, don’t worry yourself. It’s fine. I promise.” He comforted you with a smile and nod. “Just don’t wake me up again or you’ll be in trouble.” His smile turned into sexy little grin with a wink. Your face became flushed with red immidiately.

He reached to scratch his bare chest as turned to go back towards his bed. He shows you the bathroom and you see the light flicker off by his bed after him climbing under the covers. “Goodnight, Y/N. If you get lonely I’ve got room for you in here.” Sensing the smugness in his voice you couldn’t help but once again feel your face turning hot.

You go to your bag to grab a hoodie and shorts to change. Then your toothbrush and paste, making your way quietly to the bathroom hoping to have the hot bath you intended. His bathroom is a little smaller than yours. The only layout difference you noticed was, sadly, no tub. Sighing and realized you won’t get to relax after the night you already had, you turn on the shower and scrounge for a towel. The water was nice even though it’s not as relaxing. You stood under the shower head for a couple minutes letting the hot water drape over you. It was relieving to wash the day off.

Suddenly your mind snapped to Josh. He’d been so nice to accept you so late without warning. His sleepy eyes and messy hair let you know he hadn’t been asleep for a while. Realizing now his bare chest revealed his soft skin and happy trial. His collar bones poking out connecting to his small but toned shoulders. His hips barely hugging the pants he had on. Wait. What am I doing? I barely know him. You shake your head snapping yourself back to reality. Finishing your routine, you turn the water off and grab the towel you managed to find in the cabinet. Exhausted and wanting to just lay down, you slip into the sweatshirt and shorts, then comb your hair and brush your teeth. Before retreating from the bathroom, you hang the towel and grab your clothes off the floor.

You make your way through the living room and throw your things on your bag, too tired to bother actually putting them away. You sit on the couch and spread out the blanket over your legs as you turn off the last light in the room. Before you lay down and get settled you look over to his bed and realize the curtains were open letting the moon light up the room. You couldn’t see his face. Just his silhouette laying below his comforter. You slide down the couch placing your head on one of the pillows and using the other one to cuddle. Laying with a pillow on your chest always made you feel safe. Especially since you can’t remember the last time you had any affection.

Laying there in just the moon light you thought you would pass out in no time. That turned out to not be the case. You lay there switching positions over and over trying to get the sweet spot. You let out a small grunt out of frustration. You hear shuffling coming from Josh’s bed so you prop yourself up for a second peak his direction. He was turning over as well but he seemed to not have the same issue with falling back to sleep. After a couple seconds, it grew quiet again and the room was starting to feel lonely. Your mind started getting restless and soon enough you were flashing back to your thoughts from earlier. You wondered what his skin felt like. His curly hair. His soft lips. His hands gripping at your body.

It started turning you on and you could feel the heat going towards your pussy. The urge to touch yourself grew the more you thought of him. The thought of him touching you. You wanted to feel his body pressed on top of yours. The wetness coming from your pants was prompting you to touch yourself. You reach your hand down your shorts and with the other hand grip the pillow tighter to your core. You touch your clit rubbing in circles making sure every breath you took was muted. If he ever found out you’d be embarrassed beyond belief.

The thoughts of him just wouldn’t leave your head. You start getting closer to climax so you swiftly throw the blanket off yourself and roll onto your stomach. Pushing the pillow you were holding between your thighs, you start grinding your hips deep into it. Biting your lips and holding your face into the pillow that was below your head. Squeezing your eyes shut the only images you could see are flashes of Josh on top of you. Feeling the pleasure your mind gave you from what you’d allow him to do to you. Your breathing got heavier and deeper as your visions started to turn to white with pleasure overload.

“Ahem.”

Nearly startled to death, you flew off the couch with hands and legs flailing in the air to grab anything on the way down. Your heart was pounding through your chest. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, no. Already embarassed out of your mind, you peak your head over the couch to find Josh in the kitchen staring directly at you. When did he wake up? Did he see anything? Oh, shit. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were pupil filled darkness. The lights were still off but you could see the shape of his body from the light outside.

“I- um. I’m sorry if I woke you. I just- uh couldn’t sleep.” you mutter staring directly at him. He didn’t move for a couple minutes.

“You know, Y/N, I would have helped if you had asked.” A smirk emerged from his face.  “I was just grabbing a glass of water. Would you like one?”

He walks around the corner counter and your gaze follows down his body as you notice he was relived of the sweatpants he was wearing earlier and is now in his briefs. Something was bulging from them. The pulsating from your clit grew and was now getting unbarable to ignore. You realize your still sitting on the floor hiding yourself behind the couch. What was I thinking? I just wanted to relax. Letting out a small breath you gather yourself to stand up. He’s still gazing at you but you can’t really read his face anymore.

Feeling the tingling in your groin as your legs rub together as you stood up. Nervously rubbing your arm with the oposite hand you try to gather what had happened. Okay, he just woke up to me touching myself on his couch. What’s going to happen next? Your heart was practically in your throat at this point. Slowly he walked walked toward you until he was close enough you could feel his body heat. His curls were outlined with the back light. You could smell a mixture of old cologne and his natural musk. This made your heart flutter even harder.

Almost instinctly his hand rose to stroke your cheek to your chin. With the other hand meeting at your neck, he sank closer to you. His soft lips pecking yours at first. You grabbed his hips pulling him in closer. At this point it seemed both of your hearts were racing with enticement. His little kisses turned to sloppy open mouth kisses filled with tounge. The passion was radiating from him driving you crazy. He suddenly pulled his mouth away still. His hands still gripped around your jaw.

“Did you finish yourself?” He wondered, making intense deep eye contact.

The heat was rising through your face once again. “I was about to... and then I heard you.” A nervous laugh was released and you had to break eye contact.

He moved in close again but this time aiming towards your neck with his lips instead. His hands starting running down the arms of your sweatshirt and to your sides. Softly he pecked at your neck which made your head throw back in desire. “I was thinking. Maybe I could help you finish. And you can say we’re even for letting you stay tonight?” He whispered in between kisses.

How can I say no? You go back to gazing into his eyes and biting your lip you nod lightly. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear into your face. Josh was quick to slide it back behind your ear being sure to not break the stare. He grabbed you by the hips pushing you onto the couch. He leaned over and kissed you one more time on the lips before moving back down to your neck. His hands made their way under your sweatshirt as he worked a hickey on your delicate skin. Realized you had no bra on, he smiles into you and continues to knead at your breasts. Stopping slightly to pinch your hardened nipple leaving you to moan into the air. Startling you, he grabbed the bottom of your top and pulled it over your head with intention. He gazed at you in the soft light. Speechless he caressed your curves admiring every inch. Moving towards your breasts he’s sure to softly leave his mark with a trail. Goosebumps fill your skin with every touch of his mouth.

He stayed on your breast for a couple minutes but you could feel yourself wanting to reach your hand to your clit. Now pulsating so hard and begging for attention. He notices your hand sliding down and he stops you.

“No, let me.” he states making eye contact again. Still feeling your skin with his curious hands, he kissed his way down to your thighs.

He lightly kisses back and forth between thighs and drags his hands up to the top of your shorts. Grabbing at them, he slides them down your legs and tosses them onto the floor. His lips glide across your skin to your legs. Throwing them over his shoulder, he grabs your hips and swiftly pulls you down towards him. He continues running his hands down your legs softly making sure he does’t miss out a single spot as he gazes at your pussy. You’re insanely throbbing and thoughts race through your head of how the release will feel. Wrapping his arm around your leg, his thumb lands on your slit. He rubs down and then up dragging your juices from earlier onto your clit. He slowly starts rubbing in circles then back and forth. All the while, staring intensely observing what makes you go crazy.

“Fuck, Y/N. Do you realize how insanely sexy you are?” he growls at you. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while. You’re amazing. I can’t believe this is happening.”

The only reply you could muster up was, “Fu-” with a whimper shoving your head back deeper into the pillow.

His thumb was replaced with a warm, wet, strong swipe of his tounge. You gasp like you forgot how to breathe. It had been so long since you had been touched with such passion. His tounge flat, he swipes side to side in a fast motion burrying his face deep into you. Your legs become hard to control and every flick of his tounge leads to twitches. He holds you down by your hips as your back arches. Your hands are thrown instantly to grab him by his curly locks as he moans into you. A finger slides into you and you can’t help but let out another moan this time throwing your torso forward making eye contact with him. He uses his tounge to make circles around your clit and sucking while glancing at your expressions.

“Josh- I need you. I need to feel you inside me.” You whisper at him.

He quickly stands up and slides off his briefs. His penis sprug out solid at you. Oh, my god. It’s so much prettier than I thought. He climbs back on top of you and starts reaching his mouth for yours. Your hands grab onto his back making your way up his shoulders and wrapping your legs tight around him. You can feel him pulsating on you and twitching begging for your wetness. One of your hands stays gripped with your nails digging. The other slides up the back of his neck. I can’t believe this is happening. And he’s so damn hot. Grabbing a handful of his hair, he sighs deep at you. He reaches down and grabs himself to slid himself up and down your slit. His head throws back as he starts to slide into you. Both of you gasp in unison and pull each other tighter. His head became burried into your neck. He lets out a grunt.

Slowly at first and picking up pace with every stroke. The deeper he got the higher you felt. The harder he hit the closer you were to peaking. He reaches behind you grabbing a handful of hair and pulling lightly. Your head falls back again. Taking the opportunity, he slides his hand back down to your clit rubbing it in circles. You can’t hold back anymore. You let out a cry of passion and pleasure.

“That’s it, Y/N. Show me what your face looks like when you cum. I want to see you finish first.” He whispered into your ear. Grabbing your ankles, he throws your legs into a new position over his shoulders.

The new friction was driving you insane. Your touch starved body couldn’t take it anymore. You allow yourself to release onto him. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh god! Josh, fuck me!” Your hands grab your breasts and your back arches with each thrust.

This causes him to go almost balistic. His movements and thrusts became more erratic and you can feel him twitching inside you with each stroke. He props himself up with his hands on the couch around your head. Sure to make eye contact once again he leans in to kiss you long and passionate. Deeper and faster he moves until he throws his head back and final time. He pulls out of you and his cum covers your entire stomach and breasts with force.

Both of you lay there twitching with ecstacy and bliss. He looks at your face with a smile and lets out a couple deep breaths. “Whew. That was intense!” he states with a smile and shaking his head as he stood up. He disappears into the bathroom retreving a towel. Returning to help you clean up, the smile never left his face.

This was definetly not how you expected your night to go. Still laying in total shock and bliss, you lay in silence. “Are you okay, Y/N?” he asks you.

You smile and nod at him with your flushed cheeks still beaming. “It’s been a long time. You’re incredible.”

“I knew you’d enjoy it.” He replies with a laugh. He leans in to kiss you another time. This time it was so gentle and soft. Almost as if he didn’t want to let you go.

He grabs your hand and helps you off the couch. Handing you pieces of your clothing he says, “You know you don’t have to sleep on the couch if you don’t want to. My bed is open.” He glances at you as if he wants you to take his offer as he pulls his sweatpants back on.

A giggle was let out from you and you smile huge while replying, “I’d hope so after that.”

He takes your hand once again and pulls you with him to the bed. You climb in first and bury yourself under the comforter. He climbs in after you and pulls you close to him again. You lay there with his arms wrapped around you. It feels safe. It feels nice. Stroking your hair, he lays with you. He kisses your forehead and embraces you tighter.

“Y/N, before you fall asleep. I want you to know how beautiful you are. I’ve wanted to talk to you more but we have never been alone long enough,” he sweetly whispers to you.

This causes a smile to form on your face and you reply, “I hope I can spend more time with you.”

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six���no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

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[hacked-by-jake]

In case no one has formally asked you yet, a part 3 of Jake being hot for 1 minute straight? 😄 I'm seriously addicted 🙈

Love your work, dear!! ❤

Headcanon

Summary: And another 25 things that show how hot jake is.

> Part 1 / > Part 2

A/n: First of all, thank you very much for your sweet words! @dreamer-writer-fangirl❤️ I am very happy that you like it and I hope that this part is just as good.🥰

And also many thanks to you, dear Anon. I’m very happy that you want a third part.❤️

So, thanks to the wish for a third part, we are here. This time it became a little more difficult to find things so that’s why it’s only 25. But I hope it’s okay anyway. 😅

Same as always: excuse the mistakes.

So, Have fun, stay healthy and take care of yourselves.❤️🌹🎭

Jake is a night person, and he has infected you a little bit with it. You have this particular place on top of a building in Duskwood where you’ve spent tons of romantic, funny, passionate evenings. You just love to talk about everything that comes to your mind. Being open and honest.

Jake will help you cook a lot. You always listen to loud music, dance (ok, mostly just you), tease each other, laughs, sings the lyrics aloud, and sometimes it ends with you not getting to finish the food

Jake sometimes uses really bad flirt attempts, he knows they are bad but he finds it far too amusing. 'Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come in again?' - 'We should go showers together, that saves water" even if he makes fun of it, you love these little jokes.

If something doesn’t work the way Jake wants it to work, sometimes he gets pretty pissed off. He then looks for your closeness every time, just wants a hug or a kiss and distracts himself with you.

Jake has a habit, sometimes, when he want to tell you that he loves you, that he asking you before if you want to hear a secret and whispering it in your ear afterwards.

Jake always kisses your forehead twice before he falls asleep, even when you’re already asleep.

Since Jake doesn’t like to go swimming when you go to Duskwood’s lake with the group, you once went swimming together in the middle of the night (A/n: I think I want to write a OneShot about it lol) Only the light of the car has given you light and you have spent hours at the lake.

Jake has the ability to notice when you’re having nightmares, whether he’s in his study or sleeping himself. He’ll wake you up and calm you down. He will always suggest you to talk about it and will always listen to you no matter how tired he is.

Jake hates arguing with you, and luckily you don’t argue much. But once, when you were really fighting, he became totally hysterical and panicked. He was afraid that this argument would escalate even further, but he was able to end the dispute quickly, even if it was accidentally. He suddenly asked in the middle of the conversation, 'If you keep yelling at me like that, can we go outside?' You were completely perplexed and looked out the window where it rained terribly. When you pointed him out, he replied, 'I know, but at least I get a melodramatic movie moment,' you couldn’t stay serious and had to laugh, just like him. You both apologized and then calmly talked about the problem.

Since you’ve been a couple, Jake loves to go to another place for a few days, just to experience something new with you. Sometimes it’s just a weekend, sometimes several days, you decide spontaneously and don’t think about where you are going.

Jake usually wants you to choose a movie because he’s afraid you might not like the movie he chooses and you only agree because you want to do him a favor. You really have to force him to pick out a movie, and he’ll keep asking you if this movie is okay with you.

Jake is always afraid that something will happen to you if you use a knife while cooking. When you’re on a ladder, he’s afraid you’ll fall. If you don’t let him help you, he’ll turn away so he won’t have to look at you. If you want to walk across a street, he’ll double-check if a car comes.

No matter what time you get the idea, if you want something from McDonald’s or a pizza, or even if it’s just an ice cream, no matter what it is, Jake will go with you and get what you want.

When you used to lie on your balcony at night and Jake came out so you could go to bed, you said you could lie here all night. So Jake took the mattress of your bed and all the pillows and blankets you have and slept on the balcony together. You’ve been doing this often since then.

Jake had a necklace made especially for you, the pendant is his mark, the eye. Even if strangers do not know that it is his sign, he always makes sure that it hangs over your top and can always see himself that you belong to him.

Jake has a list of all the things and places you’d like to see. he wants to make it possible for you to see all of it.

Since Jake is much more active at night than during the day, you experience most things together at night. Wander around, go to dinner, exploring the city at night while sharing headphones and listening to music. Or rocking on a playground at night.

There’s a flower delivery service in Duskwood. And sometimes Jake orders flowers for you there and sends them to your apartment. When it sounds and you open the door, Jake will watch from afar how you rejoice when another bouquet of your favorite flowers arrives. He will always send small messages with the flowers. Simple things like 'I love you' or 'you look beautiful today'

Jake loves photos of you, preferably those you didn’t expect to be photographed. Jake loves taking pictures of you secretly. If you’re focused, while reading a book, drawing, or just scrolling through your Instagram feed. Sometimes you don’t even know that he took a pictur. He also loves pictures where you laugh. When you are out with the group and you laugh at something, he secretly takes pictures. Actually, at all times.

At the beginning Jake had a hard time taking pictures on which you are both on, but over time he has learned to love it more and more. Most of the time you don’t see him completely on photos, mostly only half the face or not at all. Sometimes when you take a picture of yourself, Jake uses the situation to sneak up on you and kiss you. On the cheek, on the forehead, your lips. Or just hugging you from behind and hiding his head in your neck bend.

Jake sometimes changes his background image several times a day, either it’s a picture of you or one of you both. But he cannot decide and therefore changes constantly, because he finds that all images are worth seeing.

That’s why you can watch Jake sometimes while he's unlocking his phone or looking at his computer and starts to grin when he sees the pictures. Even though he sees you every day, it makes him very happy.

You always have a serie you only watch together, when you have finished one, you look for a new one.

Sometimes it takes a long time in the morning to get out of bed. When you wake up and Jake’s still with you, sometimes you’ll spend another two hours only with cuddling. You just lie down, talk, spend quiet time together where none of you say anything. Well, and sometimes there are other reasons why you can’t separate from the bed.

Regular pillow fights or tickle attacks. If you just lie on the sofa or in bed, and you tease each other, it can lead to pillow fights that take on an insane extent or just like tickle attacks that often lead to sex.

Masterlist

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply,  brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

[morosemagick]

Meet me by the River Bend | Finan X Reader One-Shot

Warning: None

Words: 3919

Tagged: @osferth (thanks for that prompts list!!)

It's your favorite place in Wessex. This hidden river bend behind your home in Coccham. Most of the townspeople here don't realize it's back there. Deep enough for you to bathe, and hidden enough for you not to worry about men coming to spy on you.

It's your small touch of paradise.

You've been coming here for years now. When your daily chores are done and you're certain no one will need you, you sneak off to your special place. Sometimes you don't even bathe, just going by to dip your toes in and listen to the river's song. It's the best in the summertime when the water is its warmest and you can dress in your bare minimum while you waste your day doing whatever you choose.

You rather this simple life over anything else.

Until one day you notice someone has found your secret spot.

It takes you a moment, but you recognize this face. He's a warrior for Lord Uhtred, the Ealdorman of Coccham. You've seen him before in town, usually walking around with the Lord's other warriors or drinking at the alehouse.

If you're correct, he's the one they call Finan.

Afraid of being seen, you hide behind a tree to spy on him. It's probably wrong, but you're curious to see what this man is doing in your place. You can see him approach the river, squatting down and putting his fingers into the water to perhaps check its warmth. After a moment or two, he rises, shaking off his wet finger, and then wipes it on his trousers.

What happens next makes your jaw drop.

He starts to strip away his clothing. Starting with the belt that carries his blades and then his shirt. You can't help but gawk as he works at every button till the end, then pulling the shirt off his body. As he bends down to drop his on top of his blades, his body turns till his bareback is facing you.

And the sight of it makes you gasp.

Finan snatches the shirt up and puts it back on, and you manage to hide behind the tree. You try to cover your mouth with your hand, but you're certain you've been caught.

You can hear him pick up his sword, and then you hear the sound of footsteps approaching you, "I know you're out there," he calls out as he creeps closer, "Come out now, and I swear I won't hurt ya."

"I didn't mean to spy on you, Lord, I swear it," You tell him, still cowering behind the tree.

"I'm not a Lord, darlin', no need to hide," Finan is smirking when he comes face to face with you, "If you wanted to watch me bathe, all you needed was to ask."

He's much more handsome than you realized now that he's in arms reach, and suddenly you're blushing uncontrollably, "I was not-"

"I'm only kidding, I swear it," He smiles, holding his arms up in truce, "What is a good Christian woman like yourself doin' alone in a place like this?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," you say, straightening yourself to seem more confident, "How did you find this place?"

"I usually bathe more up the river, but it seems others found my space so I came more down for some peace," Finan crosses his arms, and your eyes can't help but look at his bare chest and the blade you almost forgot he was carrying, "And you?"

"I, uh," You point behind him and chuckle, "Live not far from here. This is my secret place."

"Is it now?"

"It is," You tell him, and he smirks at you, "And I would prefer if you bathed somewhere else."

Finan chuckles, and takes a step forward, "And if I choose not to?"

You're already backed into the tree, so there's nowhere else to go as he hovers over you, "I.. I'll-"

Finan’s smirk becomes a full smile as he laughs and backs away, "I am teasing, darlin', I'll get out of your hair. I wouldn't want anyone to think anythin' of us being alone back here."

"I will not tell, if you don't," The words come out of your mouth so quickly you barely have time to register what you've just told this man.

Finan's brow raises as he crosses his arms again, "Are you propositioning me, lady?"

"No, of course not!" You argue and he smiles again, making your knees feel surprisingly weak, "I only mean to say, if you do not look my way then I will not look yours. We can share this place."

"You wish to share this place with me?" He questions.

"As long as you promise not to look and you stay on your side of this tree," As soon as the words come out you realize what you've asked of this and it's probably the dumbest thing you've done but it's too late because the words have already been spoken, "We keep our eyes to ourselves, deal?"

You put your hand out for him to shake, and a second later he shakes it, "Deal, Lady-"

"Y/N," You tell him with a faint smile, "I am not a lady, I'm just… Y/N."

"Well you have yourself a deal," Finan smirks as he lets your hand go and starts to make his way back to his things, "Just Y/N."

It's the way he looks at you as he walks away that makes you realize you've probably made a very big mistake.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

It rains for the next few days, so you do not return to the river bend until the sun has risen again. You head down at midday to get away from your family for some time. It's hard, being the eldest child. You feel like so much is expected of you, especially in a family of only daughters.

You expect talks of marriage will be in your very near future.

When you arrive at your secret place, Finan is already there. You can tell because there are clothes all laid out neatly as well as a belt with two blades close to the water. As per your pact, you do your best to keep your eyes ahead of you and not spy on the man you've decided to let into your space.

Though you would very much like to look.

You sit by the edge of the water, taking off your shoes so you can stick your feet in the water, and just as you lay back onto the grass you hear water sloshing around and the sound of a certain Irish accent in the air.

"Y/N," You hear Finan call out, and you try your best not to look his way, "Nice seeing you here."

"I'd say the same, but I plan on upholding the promise I made," Finan laughs at your comment, and a smile forms on your face, "I am a good Christian woman, after all."

"Aye, so polite," He laughs some more and you can hear him moving through the water, probably making his way out, "Thank you for not tarnishing my pure reputation."

"I assure your pure reputation will continue to go unscathed," You chuckle and you can hear him getting out of the water, and the sound of swords in sheaths clanging lets you know he's probably getting dressed.

"Do you not wish to bathe today, Y/N?" He asks you, and you can hear his belt clang again.

"No…" You told him in a soft tone, your mood sobering up, "I only came here to escape, that's all."

"Escape what?" When you don't answer you can hear Finan moving around, and before you know it he's standing above you fully dressed, "Escape what, Y/N?"

You smirk at the sight of him, "You've crossed the tree."

"Aye, but my clothes are on," Finan smiles walking to your right and then sitting down next to you, "So are you going to tell me what has happened?"

You sigh and then sit up, pulling your knees to your body as you look out to the water, "I believe my family wishes me to marry soon."

You glance over to Finan, who is also staring at the water when he replies, "Ahh."

"My family is… well, we could use the silver," You explain as you put your arms around your knees and rest your chin on top of them, "I am the eldest, it's my duty to be married into wealth."

"But is being married what you wish?" Finan asks you in a tone that makes you glance his way.

It almost sounds like jealousy.

"I'm not sure," You tell him honestly, "What if he's awful?"

"What if he's hideous?" Finan jokes with brows raised and it makes you laugh, "I'm sure your father will not marry you to a cruel man."

"It's my stepfather who wishes to marry me," You explain, trying to maintain your smile but it's getting hard, "I think he tires of caring for me. I'm almost certain he wishes to be rid of me as soon as possible."

"Sounds like a bastard," Finan mutters in anger, and it catches you off guard. When he notices what he's said, he turns to face you, "I did not mean-"

You can't help but smile, "No, you are right. He is a bastard." Your smile maintains as you turn back to face the water, "I just wish I was free to choose, that's all. It might sound silly but I want to fall in love with a man, not just be forced upon him."

"That doesn't sound silly at all," Finan tells you with a soft voice, "Nothin' wrong with wanting to be loved, Y/N."

"Have you ever been in love?" You turn to ask him and you can see the expression on his face shift, "Finan? Did I say something wrong?"

He looks at your and his lip curls up, and something about the way his eyes stare into yours gives you butterflies like you've never felt before, "I have… a long time ago. Almost another life, even."

"What happened?"

Finan shrugs, looking back at the water as he answers, "I suppose.. it was not meant to be."

"I'm sorry," You tell him sincerely, "That sounds awful," he doesn't answer you immediately, and you wonder if you've maybe struck a nerve with your question. In hopes of redeeming yourself, you add: "Perhaps you will find love again," That catches his attention and it makes you smile, "A better one."

"I hope so as well," Finan answers with a smile much different than the others he's given you during this conversation. Something about it just makes your heart beat double time.

You wonder if perhaps these are the feelings you've been searching for.

You continue to meet Finan daily by the river bend, as long as the sun is out and there is no rain to stop you from leaving your home. You talk about everything and nothing, and over the next few months, you learn so much about each other. Finan tells you about his travels, and what it's like to be a warrior serving Lord Uhtred. Of his friends and fellow warriors, Sihtric and Osferth. You tell him about your family, how your father served in King Alfred's fyrd and did not come home after one battle. How your mother, now a widow, chose to marry a farmer to support her family and had many more children with him. How the man she married treats you more like the help than a daughter.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

Of all the things you speak of, Finan's family and his life in Ireland is never brought up.

You didn't want to push it.

He did, however, tell you of his life as a slave and how he met Lord Uhtred aboard a shave ship. All the things they overcame to be free, and the friends they lost trying to get home. It's how you learn why he chooses to bathe in private.

"There are scars… scattered all over my back," Finan tells you during one of your meetings, "Every time someone sees them, they ask how I got them. I hate talkin' about it… so I bathe alone."

"I didn't mean to-"

"I don't mind telling you, Y/N," he says with a smile, "You are good at secrets, surprisingly enough."

You laugh at his comment, and you stop when you realize Finan is staring at you, "What is it?"

"May I tell you another?" Finan asks in a quiet voice.

"Another… secret?" You question him with a raised brow. Finan nods, his face seeming more serious than you've seen it, "What is it, Finan?"

"I would very much like to kiss you, Y/N," His words make you gasp and you realize he's leaned in closer to you, "May I?"

"But your pure reputation," You smirk but your body is leaning in closer anyway, "We are good Christians, remember?"

"I will not tell, if you don't," Finan smiles as he puts his hand on your face to pull you in.

You glance at his eyes then down to his lips right before you lean in to kiss him, "Deal."

It's not your first kiss, that's for certain, but you've never had someone kiss you with so much passion before. Finan puts his other hand on your face and leans your head back to deepen the kiss. Your hands reach out for his shirt to pull him as close to you as you can, and the two of you fall back into the grass as the kissing intensifies. Finan's tongue slips in your mouth and you moan, his hands moving from your face down to your waist.

He's about to go lower, but you stop him.

You pull away from him with a worried look on your face, "We shouldn't..."

Finan looks a touch embarrassed as he gets up off of you, "I am sorry, Y/N,"

"No, it's not that I don't wish to kiss you," You are quick to explain as you sit back up, "It's just…" You don't wanna tell him, but you know you need to tell him soon before it's too late, "My stepfather has someone coming tomorrow… a potential husband."

"You're to be married?" He looks hurt, more than you anticipated and it hurts.

"I have no choice," Your lip quivers because the look on his face is just killing you, "He wants me gone before harvest."

"Perhaps I should go," Finan says as he jumps to his feet, and you jump up to follow him.

"Finan, Finan wait!" You call out as you chase after him, "I do not want to marry this man-"

"I will bother you no longer, Lady," he cuts you off as he keeps going, but you reach out to grab his arm and make him stop.

"Finan, please," Your voice cracks and you feel your breath starting to stutter, "I will never love this man," Finan doesn't look fully back, but his head is turned enough for you to know you have his attention, "my heart already belongs to you."

"I have nothing to give you, Y/N," Finan explains, keeping his face away from you, "No land, no home... I am just a warrior, loyal to my Lord. Every time we leave there is a chance I will not come home. It is not an easy life."

"I do not want easy," Your eyes start to water as your hand drifts down his arm to his hand, "I want you."

Finan turns back and you find he's also been crying, but there's a slight smile on his lips and it makes you feel a bit better, "Do you now?"

"I do," You smile as the tears fall, "Always."

Finan moves back in to kiss you again, his hands moving frivolously across your body as he backs you up until you eventually hit a tree. His hands are making their way down your skirts as he starts to lift them up, and eventually, they find themself between your legs.

What he does to you next, here by this river bend, is far from Christian.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

You get back home later than you usually do, the sun setting as you walk through the door, and to your surprise, your mother and stepfather are waiting for you, along with another man you do not recognize.

"Where have you been!?" Your stepfather demands before you can even put down your things, "You have been gone for hours!"

"I went to bathe," You explain but your response is only a half-lie; you were indeed in the water… with Finan… and neither of you actually did bathe, "I did not realize how long I was gone."

"It's impolite to make your betrothed wait, Y/N," Your mother explains, and you give her a confused look.

"I do not have a-"

"Y/N, meet Oswald," Your stepfather cuts you off as he turns back to point to the other man in the room, "He has agreed to marry you, and for a mighty fair price might I add."

You look at the man, and then your stepfather with a worried look, "I do not wish to marry him."

"He's already paid the bride price, Y/N," Your mother tells you with a somber look on her face, "You leave for East Anglia in the morning."

"East Anglia?!" You take a step back in your shock.

"I have a lot of land, and plenty of space for all the children we will have," The man… Oswald smiles and it makes you shiver, "I promise you will enjoy being my wife."

"I don't want to marry you," You say again, because the first time was apparently not enough, "I refuse!"

"You cannot!" Your stepfather snaps, "You have been sold, you get no choice!"

"I will not marry this man, and you cannot stop me!" You yell, turning for the door and rushing out before anyone can stop you.

It's pouring now but that doesn't stop you as you make your way into the heart of Coccham in search of the man you much rather be betrothed to. Your first stop is the alehouse, where you know Finan frequents often with his fellow warriors, but he's not there. Instead, your eyes come across the other warriors he's usually with, Sihtric and Osferth.

They are drinking and laughing when you approach them, and you know you must look crazy with your body drenched but you do not care.

The monk-looking Saxon is the first to notice you, a kind smile on his face as he looks your way. He must be Osferth, "May we help you, lady? You seem troubled."

"You are Osferth and Sihtric, yes?" You ask as you look between the two of them, shaking in your soaked clothing, "Do you know where Finan is?"

"Ah, you must be Y/N," The Dane warrior, Sihtric, smiles as he turns to face you, "You just missed him, he's gone to meet with Lord Uhtred."

"Please, can you find him for me?" You ask out of breath, hoping they recognize the panic in your voice, "Tell him to meet me by the river bend, he will know what that means."

"Is there something wrong, Y/N?" Osferth asks as he and Sihtric exchange worried looks.

"I have no time to explain, please, promise me you'll tell him," You tell him and they both nod to each other and rise.

"We will, lady, we swear it," Sihtric tells you as he taps Osferth's shoulder and the two of them leave the alehouse with haste.

You only hope they find him in time.

It's still pouring, but it doesn't stop you from waiting in the rain for Finan to arrive. You wait behind a tree, the same one you hid behind the first time you saw him. You have been alone for a while, and part of you is starting to worry he will not show.

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

Perhaps you have made a mistake?

Perhaps he does not love you as you thought?

The fear makes you nauseous. You had just given this man all you had to give, your womanhood slipped through your fingers to the sound of his soft words and even softer fingers. Now you wonder if all that happened was only so he could find his way between your legs.

Tears form in your eyes, and now you feel silly for waiting out here in the rain for a man who probably doesn't love you.

You want to move from where you're leaning against the tree, except you can't because your body slides down to the ground and you can help but sit there and cry. Crying like a child, as the tears on your face blending in with the rain hitting your face.

"Y/N?" The voice you hear calling out for you makes you jump for your feet, hiding behind the tree in hopes not to be seen. It's your stepfather, and he has found your secret place, "Y/N you show yourself this instant!"

You cover your mouth so he doesn't hear you crying, or breathing for that matter, and pray to God that he doesn't find you. You can hear footsteps walking nearby and your heart is beating double time as your eyes shut tight in fear, but then you feel a hand across yours.

"Do not fear, Y/N, it's me," Finan's voice whispers as your eyes open quickly. There's a serious look on his face, his eyes peeking around the tree, "He's leavin'."

You both stand there in silence for a while, Finan's eyes watching your stepfather and yours watching Finan. Sometimes passes, and then Finan sighs as his eyes drift back to you.

"He's gone," Finan tells you as his hand moves from over yours to over your cheek, "Are you alright?"

"You came for me," You tell him in shock as your hand lowers to your side.

"Of course I did, Y/N," Finan smiles as he rubs your cheek with his thumb, "I love you."

"You do?" Your eyes are watery again but this time your tears are joyous.

"Aye," He nods as he leans in for a quick kiss, "I do, and I will not let you marry the man that bastard has chosen."

"His name is Oswald," You explain to him with a frown, "He's already paid the bride price…"

"And I plan on offering more," Finan explains with a smirk, "I have borrowed silver from Lord Uhtred. Whatever that man had paid, I will pay double."

"I cannot possibly be worth that much," You chuckle in disbelief over what he's told you, but Finan just smiles, "I am just Y/N."

"No," He shakes his head as he leans in to kiss you again, "You are everything, Y/N."

It must be true because you return back to your family's home with Finan where he offers just that for your hand in marriage and your stepfather and Oswald agree for the exchange. You do not return to that house again, because that place is no longer your home.

And the next time the sun shines again, you and Finan return again to the river bend. Where you share this special place with those you both care for the most, as they gather together to watch you two marry.

Here, in this place, special to you always.

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 1: First Impressions

During the events of T2 John's half-sister, Aria catches the attention of the T-1000. Having failed a second time Skynet starts targeting the people who will one day fight beside John.

T-1000/Austin x OC

This first chapter will follow the movie but it will start diverging soon. I'm still new to fanfic writing so feel free to leave a comment.

It was gone.

Not in my closet or my drawers or under the bed.

It was gone.

The little money maker that I made and the little brat took it. I grab my cardigan and make my way out into the hallway. He's probably made it to the mall already (and he didn't even think to invite me), spending money that's not his. I mean it's not mine either but that's not the part I'm upset about. Knowing the way he drives on his bike I'll be lucky if the atm card is still working when I get it back. As I looked for my keys, they were RIGHT HERE I SWEAR, the doorbell rings. Seeing as it's not my house I don't go to answer. I hear the door open accompanied by a tired sigh.

Todd must've gotten it.

"Are you the legal guardian of John Connor?'

That's never a good question. I take a peek around the corner to glance at the man at the door. The first thing I notice is that he's wearing a police uniform. Yup, not good.

"That's right, officer. What's he done now?" A very valid question that the officer ignores as he seems to scan the house, pausing briefly as he spots me before turning his attention back to Todd.

"Could I speak with him please?"

"Could if he were here. Took off on his bike this morning so he could be anywhere." Todd answers with a shrug, clearly not giving two shits as Janelle joins him at the door.

"Do you have a photograph of John?"

"Yeah sure, hold on." She turns to grab her wallet and sees me hiding behind the corner. She looks at me expectedly probably thinking I know what's going on. I just shake my head. Like I would tell her even if I did know.

"You gonna tell me what this is about?" Todd tries asking again as Janelle rejoins them, handing off the picture.

"Just need to ask him a few questions. He's a good-looking boy. Do you mind if I keep this picture?" He asks as he studies the image.

"No, go on. There was a guy here this morning looking for him too." Janelle offers. This gets the officer's attention as I see him still and look back up. This surprises me too as I wasn't here in the morning and my foster parents apparently didn't think to tell me about some stranger looking for my little brother.

"Yeah, a big guy on a bike. That got something to do with this?" Todd adds. Dear God John, who are you getting involved with? The officer pauses for a moment before responding.

"No. I wouldn't worry about him. Thanks for your cooperation." He takes one last glance up in my direction. Our eyes meet. Only for a second before he's gone. But it's long enough to send a chill down my spine. Police officer or not that man is dangerous and he's heading straight for John. When John fails to answer his phone, that I got him by the way, I hurry to find my keys and make my way outside. The cop had left. He'll have to ask around to find John which should buy me some time.

It's a bit of a distance to get to the mall and the traffic of a Saturday afternoon doesn't help but I make it. I head towards the arcade on the second floor but have to backtrack around a corner when I spot the officer from earlier talking to some kids.

Christ, he works fast. This man really takes his job seriously.

The kids seem not to know anything as the man continues on and out of sight… in the direction of the arcade. DAMN IT. I hurry after hoping he'd walk past it which he does. I slow down to look through the windows hoping to catch a glimpse of John.

"Excuse me, have you seen…"

Stopped by the entrance I turn to look at the speaker realizing too late my mistake as I'm face to face with the very man I was avoiding. Because of the close proximity, I notice he's tall, and with a square jaw, bright blue eyes, and soft-looking light brown hair, he's handsome too. This is bad for me, because tall and handsome have gotten me in trouble before and I will not let it do so again. But he's staring, obviously recognizing me from not even an hour ago, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Lo siento señor no hablo ingles."

His brow furrowed in confusion which I take as my cue to leave. So with an "Adios!" I duck into the arcade, send a quick thank you to my high school Spanish classes, and hide behind the first big machine I find. From there I see him enter the arcade looking left and right, scanning as he did earlier, before turning to a pair of girls by a pinball machine. I turn away to go find John eventually finding him playing Afterburner.

"JOHN!"

"AAHH!"

"A cop is looking for you, what did you do?" He spares me a glance before returning to his game.

"... Is this because I took the card machine? Listen Aria, I'm sorry but mine broke."

"I am pissed about that but no."

"Is it cause I didn't invite you? In my defense, you weren't home."

"John..." I begin when Tim, John's buddy, slides up to us.

"John, hey there's this cop scoping for you, check it out." That got his attention, and let me be upset for a second as he takes a look around Tim and the machine to see the officer questioning another kid who points in our direction. John grabs his backpack, I grab John and we both head towards the employee door briefly looking back to see the officer pushing kids aside to catch up. I open the door and push John ahead of me, both of us running.

"So you'll listen to Tim but not to me?"

"Tim never messed with me about surprise police inspections." Ever since we were young mom drilled into us that the police were bad news and, like the caring and protective big sister that I am, I decided to add to this training. Suffice to say John tends to double guess me now and then.

"That's fair." Turning the corner we surprise a worker who yells at us and who we ignore as we push through the exit doors. That's when we turn to see a large man in a leather jacket and sunglasses and I freeze up as he opens the box to pull out a shotgun the roses he was carrying crushed beneath him as he advances. John pulls me back the way we came, the man following as we try the other doors.

Locked.

Trapped.

I chance a glance back to see he’s caught up with us. Another look forward reveals the officer appearing through the doorway, with a glare almost as menacing as the gun. I hear a click and a look back shows the shotgun has been leveled at us.

“Get down.”

What?

"ARIA!"

Lucky for me John has the good sense to listen to the man as he ducks down pulling me with him. I cover him as gunshots ring above us. I look up to see the officer blasted back a few inches, silver wounds appearing where red ones should be. The man in leather grabs us, spinning to cover us as the cop starts emptying his clip at us. I hear the poor employee from earlier scream in pain as he gets caught in the crossfire.

John and I scream, fear gripping us.

The bullet fire pauses for a moment giving our (definitely not) human shield the opportunity to bust open the door to our left and push us in. He turns away just in time for the officer to finish reloading but is undeterred by the bullets finding a home in his torso as he continues his march forward. He levels his own gun, shotgun shells flying as he blasts one after another pushing the smaller man back until he falls and our savior is allowed to reload. As he does so the silver gaps fill in and the man rises from where he lay grabbing the gun and catching the bigger man off guard as he tries and fails to gain back control. So instead he moves to grab the cop but is instead thrown into one wall then another. Cement and plaster alike collapsing in their struggle until they both disappear through a wall.

Despite the obvious difference in size, the larger man is the one being thrown around like a ragdoll which spells bad news for us. So I grab John again, pulling him behind me as I head towards the door that leads to a staircase. We head down until we reach ground level, the parking lot, we run over to John’s bike, an old thing that was mine before I handed it down when I got a new one. Trying to start it up now I remember why I upgraded.

“John, your bike is a hunk of junk!”

“It was your bike first! Just start it already!” The engine finally starts running just as the doors burst open. The cop racing after us on foot as we speed off.