#my brain exited my body several hours ago

[homerforsure]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

#idk what this is #my brain exited my body several hours ago #it's not the fic i said i was writing in my head that's for sure #7.04 #buck bothered and bewildered #episode coda #911 fic #evan buck buckley #911 spoilers #allison writes

[purplelupins]

Salvador

|Better Call Saul|

Part I Part II

Word count: 17k

Lalo Salamanca x Fem!reader

Summery: Reader just wanted a fresh start, but when she starts working in a care home, it seemed that she bit off more than she could chew when she meets a member of her clients family.

Warnings: (this story has smut but not in part 1), slow burn, age gap, mentions of past domestic violence/toxic relationship, manipulation, intimidation, pet names (niña, niñita, princesita, Cariño, Ratoncito) Spanish (have a translator ready),Lalo kinda comes with his own warnings,

Notes: this is dedicated to my dear friend @mandowifey who was a massive part of the creation of this…couldn’t have done it without you🤍

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Even with a world on fire, we often dare to place our faith in the hands of someone who we hope we are not naive to trust. It is perplexing just what desire and blind devotion will drive a person to do. Even in our wildest dreams we cannot imagine what our actions will bring us, or who.

It is a daring game of chicken, so to speak. Seeing who will break first- you or life. Who will bend. Who will be kinder. Who will show love.

Love in and of itself is a treacherous thing. It’s beauty when it is alive and blazing, and the sorrow it brings when it whithers and putrefies.

And you knew it all.

All too well.

There was something comforting in standing under the baking sun of the southern state of New Mexico. With just a suitcase that held a toothbrush, bandages, $3026.50 and a change of clothes, you felt like a little waif from a book published centuries ago. Malnourished, exhausted, nerves shot half way to hell, and bruises still healing. You hoped there was a childish charm to how you looked, but you knew that hope was silly; you resembled more of a drug addict than a stubborn child that wouldn’t come home for supper.

“-miss?”

The first half of whatever had just been asked of you was lost on you; after you had nearly frozen to the spot after exiting the airport, numerous strangers had stopped to ask if you were alright. You forced your eyes to refocus, and found that you were being spoken to by an older woman who looked half irritated and half perturbed. Despondency had that effect on people.

“…I’m- I’m sorry…what?” You managed. Perhaps the Albuquerque sun had begun to bake your brain.

The woman sighed. She was decidedly more irritated. “Christ, I just asked if you were taking this cab!” She said, nodding to the yellow vehicle that was just several feet from you.

You stared at her, then offered her a small smile and shook your head. “It’s all yours.”

There was an uncomfortable lightness to your voice as you fought to stay connected to your body and not float away to Mars. Even you knew it. You didn’t sound like you. Hell you didn’t even look like you.

The woman said something about you taking long enough to answer something simple, but if you were honest you were proud of yourself for even being able to answer her. Just 10 hours ago you had been unable to even form a sentence as your body was plagued with panic; frantically packing what you needed in the span of 5 and a half minutes while your boyfriend - now ex- had been on the phone in the other room. You could still hear the sound of him yelling your name as you jumped in your car and peeled down the street before he could hurt you anymore.

Your heart still hurt from how hard it had been beating.

The taxi pulled away and you watched it go. A warm breeze slipped up your legs, and once it brushed your finger tips, you felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped from a hundred feet above you with you as it’s sole target.

Your eyes stung.

Your fists clenched.

But you had no more tears. Not for him anyway.

You might morn the death of who you used to be…the bright young girl who had a sparkle in her eyes and had yet to see the devil. Your heart broke when you thought of her.

But there was no blood…no body…nothing left to even hint that she was there to begin with. And there was nothing you could do about it.

•Three months later•

“Mrs. Creaner, I know the water tastes funny but I told you- you can’t keep asking your granddaughter to smuggle in alcohol now hand it over.”

“This is supposed to be a free country…” she grumbled as she rooted around over her thigh in her wheel chair, and produced the flask.

You suppressed a smirk at her antics, and held out your hand.

“Ma’am your granddaughter is 7 years old.” You sighed, handing her a styrofoam cup as she begrudgingly handed you the little metal flask.

“Smarter than a lot of you in here too.” She folded her arms and slumped in her wheelchair, “If you’re going to take that from me at least do your job and take me to bingo.”

You nodded and took the handles of the chair and began to push.

The job opening at Casa Tranquila had been a godsend to you all those months ago. Living out of a cheap motel was not ideal, and working in a comfortable retirement care facility on the outskirts of Albuquerque was just what your nerves needed. It certainly came with its difficulties, namely mediating your emotions and avoiding getting your ass pinched, but it paid your bills and gave you a great sense of purpose. In some way it made you feel as if you actually had a family that cared about whether you woke up in the morning.

It was no dream job, but it was what you needed. It kept you occupied and kept the heavy sense of loneliness at bay.

“- we do have to move you. Hector come on now, it’s just like everyday.” Came the voice of one of the senior nurses, Ellie.

You glanced over your shoulder and watched as she wheeled a very displeased elder man in the same direction as you were walking Mrs. Creaner. With careful steps so as to not trip, you turned and cast the man a greeting glance.

“Good afternoon Hector.” You said simply but cheerfully, then nodded to your co-worker in acknowledgement.

The man’s permenant frown twitched.

Hector Salamanca was a fairly new addition to the home, having been emitted just two months after you had started. And if you were honest, he was disliked; staff and patients found him difficult to deal with- which you found unfair. It wasn’t his fault that he could only communicate via the tapping of a single finger, blinking and limited facial expressions. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t coherent too, you knew very well that whoever Hector was before his stroke, he was still very much present behind those greying brown eyes. Certainly he was a grumpy old man, but if you had been in his position you were certain you wouldn’t exactly be a peach.

If anyone took a moment to watch most of the residences, they’d see just how alive most of them were despite their aging bodies; Hector was no different. He had fellow patients who he disliked; enjoyed knocking various objects over to make nurses have to bend over; he had his specific things he liked and didn’t like.

He was still every bit a red blooded man.

And while you weren’t one to play favourites, he was probably the closest thing to it.

You liked that he didn’t hide himself away. He was brash and blunt in his ways- non-verbal or not. Then there was a loneliness in his life that reflected your own; kindred spirits in a way. It pained you to see it at an old age like his. He had very few visitors, aside from when he had initially been dropped off by two men who must have been identical twins. You knew he couldn’t be all bad, and knew that a great deal of his anger must have come from his lack of contact to what family he had, and his inability to communicate. He was only human.

Just as you had expected, Hector made no move to acknowledge that he had heard your greeting. As per residence policy, each client was called by their first name, but since the first day you met that man, you had noted that he seemed more displeased by the informality. He looked furious when he had been wheeled around that first day and introduced as Hector; corners of his mouth pulled tight and down to his chin, eyes wild, nose twitching. Irate.

Your suspicions were only reinforced when you “accidentally” called him Señor Salamanca; he had actually looked you in the eye. A rare occurrence.

With that level of pride, you pondered that he must have been respected or feared before being placed under your care…or simply had a massive ego. And if he wasn’t around for that much longer and was barely existing, you saw little issue with making him feel like his old self by addressing him more formally.

Hector didn’t like a lot of people. Didn’t tolerate them. But he liked you.

Plus you gave him the best jello flavours.

Once the senior nurse placed him in the spot she deemed appropriate, you watched her walk away before dipping your head down to his level, like you always did.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said, and smiled when you saw his head twitch ever so slightly in your direction. And that smile only grew when you saw him tap his finger. You hoped it was his way of returning the greeting, either that or he wanted to tell you to shove said greeting where the sun don’t shine.

You hoped he was saying hello. You hadn’t accomplished a great deal in your short life, and you liked to think that making the grouch at work a little happy could be added to your list.

Your days looked very much the same. A nightmare would wake you up at 5am almost every morning, as much as you hated to admit it. You hated how small you felt. Visions of being back with him, under his thumb and living to please him with no favour returned…no love to feel. His voice in your head…his manipulations. You often awoke with your stomach in knots.

You could never get back to sleep after.

By the time the alarm you set sounded at 6am, you would be ready to leave your small apartment. Then it was a half hour drive to work. At Casa Tranquila, you would check in, bring your assigned patients their morning medication and start their routine. The same faces came and went, it was almost a blur some days. But you loved the blur. You needed it. Your mind had only started to heal once your days became blurs that bled into each other, and you were uncertain of what might happen if you changed that.

You pulled your keys from the ignition, and took a long breath deep into your chest. You felt an ache in your chest with how full your lungs were, and only released when you began to feel lightheaded.

Another day.

Having finished with the lunch duties, you took a moment to stretch your back in the nurse’s station before squaring your shoulders like you were tougher than you were. You began your rounds, checking on each elder during visiting hours, and went to enter the main seating area when you stopped short of the simple room.

Your feet ceased to move.

Your eyes went wide.

For the first time since you had met Hector Salamanca, there was someone sitting with him that wasn’t paid to.

A man, to be specific.

He was knelt down in front of Hector with his back to you, and spoke with an almost child-like glee to him. A ringing formed in your ears, and it took you a long minute to finally realize the ringing was not just in your ears at all; the crisp sound of a service bell rang out in the room, and as you stared, you came to find that the sound was coming from…Hector.

Indeed there was a small bell catching the sunlight on the arm of his chair right where his mobile finger usually sat.

You felt happiness fill you as the initial shock subsided. It was a mutual loneliness that had made you take interest in Hector to begin with, and you foolishly hoped that perhaps someone would cure your solitude like this man cured his.

You were staring.

Evidently too long as well, as another harsh ring snapped you out of whatever trance you had been in. Now, however, you could see Hector’s harsh gaze on you- his mouth twitching as he rung the bell again. Clearly having Hector not fully pay attention to him made the man pause whatever he had been discussing. He murmured something to the elder man, and Hector rang his bell again.

You told yourself to just keep walking. But you couldn’t.

The man sat before your patient seemed to catch on, and followed his gaze, which lead to him turning his head, and finally seeing you.

It was his eyes that struck you first.

They glittered like warm honey.

The man looked between you and Hector and murmured something to him, which was met with the usual verbal silence, then he muttered something else and it resulted in a ring. You hoped to God that meant something positive because you had just noticed yet another man standing who you had never seen before standing just a few feet behind the crouched man. He looked very much like some kind of body guard, rather than a friend or family; your heartbeat picked up and you began to wonder just who Hector was. Certainly you had thought he must have been the head of a family and perhaps a business owner, but there was something so militant about the way this man standing there was guarding them.

It couldn’t have been longer than 7 seconds since you had become rooted to the spot, but it certainly felt worlds longer. Once you realized you had frozen, you blinked and forced a polite smile onto your face as you continued your path.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said as casually as you could, hoping your nerves didn’t seep through. You hoped you would be able to make it past the men without incident, and you thought you had…but then another ring struck your nerves. There was a pause followed by murmuring, which you didn’t understand but went something along the lines of:

“¿Me estás diciendo que te las arreglaste para que esta linda niña cuidara al tío? Creo que pronto tendré que retirarme y unirme a vosotros, ¿sí?” then another few rings followed by a laugh.

His laugh- the man with the glittering eyes.

You had no idea what he had said, but something about the way he said it made a warmth creep up the back of your neck, and spread to your cheeks at the sound-

Snap

You stopped.

Snap

You turned far more jerkily than you wanted, and to your horror, the man crouching was now staring back at you intently with that smile still on his face, albeit more curt. He held his hand out and beckoned you over with two fingers. You swallowed, but fought to keep your face pleasant. Visitors didn’t usually interact with staff unless they needed something, or it was time for them to go…and you hoped this was one of the two.

You came to stand a few feet from the men, wanting to remain respectful, “Hola gentlemen, it’s nice to see Sr. Salamanca having some visitors.” The professional grin on your face didn’t reach your eyes. You were too nervous for that.

“My tio was just talking about you.” He told you brightly, “Says you’ve been looking after him, hm?” The kneeling man seemed to have no issue with dominating a conversation; you chanced a glance at the bald man standing, but he barely reacted. Goosebumps sprang up on your arms when you looked back at Hector’s nephew; unfamiliar with the direct attention.

“Well I…it’s what I’m here for, Señor.” You managed. There was something about this man that made it difficult to look away. The way his dark hair was combed neatly, and how the stripe of grey on the crown of his head swept into a curl that barely stayed back; how his brown eyes looked black in the shadows, and how the deep lines on his face made his expressions so defined; how his smile stretched so charmingly; how when he stared at you it was like only the two of you existed.

He scared you.

And he could tell.

He wagged his finger at you, “Ahh a humble girl, eh? If my tio likes you that’s good enough for me, niña…but you know- this is perfect!” He smiled even wider as he spoke almost animatedly, but you noted how the smile failed to reach his eyes now. “‘Cause now I’ll know just who to come to if my tio needs anything.” The man’s smile fell to rest as he blinked up at you, speaking so casually, yet you couldn’t help but note the menacing undertone of his words. Your brain was working overtime as you tried to piece things together; all you could come up with was that you didn’t want to upset anyone or say the wrong thing. You were certain these men were not your ordinary visitors, and you didn’t want to find out anything beyond that.

“Consider me accountable, Señor.” You heard yourself say.

A moment passed, and you so desperately wanted to break the stare he gave you, but then it as if nothing had happened when his stellar grin returned. He barked out a laugh at you.

“Esta niña, lo juro...” he said to the man standing, then turned back to you, “Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo.” He beamed. His smile was infectious and you found the corners of your mouth tugging up a little, despite your nerves.

Like a wolf lulling a lamb into false security.

There was something expectant in his gaze as he told you his name, and you assumed it was him waiting to know yours. Tit for tat. The theatrical, charming nature of him coupled with whatever made his smile resemble a predator’s made your stomach flip. He was both sides of a coin simultaneously, and you struggled to process it.

“Y/n…y/n l/n.” You replied to him. Lalo repeated your name a few times, rolling it around in his mouth. Your eyes felt glazed over as you listened to him; like he was hypnotizing you. You hadn’t even noticed how you were wringing your hands, nor how you hadn’t torn your gaze from his.

Lalo patted his uncle’s arm after a moment, “You said no one’s visited my Tio?” His face turned inquisitive and concerned, though almost cartoonish. Like there was a joke you were missing.

You shook your head as you snapped back to your body. Somehow your anxiety was starting to fade, and you chalked it up to having a name to put to his face- it made him feel more human to you, “No. I- I almost started to wonder if- if he had family, Señor Lalo.”

He nodded, which caused the curl of grey in his hair to finally fall over his forehead. Your eyes instantly latched onto it.

He was handsome.

Then faster than lightning, Lalo turned and shot a look to the man standing, then nodded his head understandingly. Almost as if to check with the man to see if what you said was true.

“That will change…you know, you should see us Salamancas- we breed like rats.” He said proudly, and chuckled.

He had a nice voice. Rough and low with an easiness to it.

You felt your cheeks warm at his statement, then nodded and remembered to blink. “Well…I’m happy to hear that- that people will come t-to see him that is.” You murmured, stumbling to correct yourself.

You watched his smile pull into a boyish smirk and you looked down to wipe away a nonexistent fluff from your uniform.

“I promise, you’ll have to smoke me and Nacho outta here. I’m looking after the family business so you’ll see lots of us.” He laughed, and nodded to the man behind him.

You looked at the other man, and smiled a little as if to aknowledge his presence. The stare he gave back to you was…bordering on sympathetic. Not what you expected.

You suddenly felt as if you were bordering on something you shouldn’t, despite your softness for the elder Salamanca.

You decided to trust your intuition.

“Well…I don’t want to intrude on your visit anymore. I’ll leave you gentlemen to it…Sr.Salamanca’s nurse should be by to take him in a little while.” You gave both men a small smile and nodded to Hector, who frowned deeper at the mention of his caregiver.

Lalo seemed to notice the change, and his smile dropped a little in curiosity. You sighed, and came a little closer to Lalo so no one would hear, “Sr.Salamanca doesn’t like her…and between you and me I think he’ll be even more Uh…vocal about it with this beautiful bell.”

Lalo’s eyes went comically wide, but the smile tugging under his moustache betrayed him. He was ecstatic. “Really? Will that be an issue?”

You noticed he didn’t clarify if he was talking about the bell or the nurse.

His charisma began to draw you back in, and you shook your head, “There won’t be an issue.”

He nodded and clapped his thigh, “Excellent!”

His reaction seemed to put you at ease, not that it should have. This man was playful in a very odd way and you didn’t know if feeling comfortable around him was a good thing. But you weren’t sure how long you would keep up with his banter, so you excused yourself.

“Right, well…enjoy the rest of your visit.” You smiled slightly again at both men, and backed away before turning and walking quickly out of the foyer. Your hands were shaking- you weren’t used to such direct conversation- with a stranger at that.

You heard Lalo say say “Adios!” to you, and you cast a quick smile back, but you didn’t stop. Panic began to rise in you as you recalled the last time someone had shown you such an amount of charm…the bastard had eaten you up and you had had to crawl out of his stomach. And there you were: hiding.

As soon as you were down the hall and out of view, you gasped and braced against the wall; your heart was working over time.

“You alright sweetie?” One of the male nurses stopped next to as you as he passed. A nice older man named Jim.

You sucked in a breath and forced a smile, “Y-yeah, thank you…just one of those days.” You reassured him. The man pursed his mouth, but didn’t press anymore as he nodded sympathetically. It was was well known that you were a private person, and you appreciated when someone respected that.

As your chest slowly unclenched, you felt your head grow light. Your poor nerves were so shot that you truly were unsure as to whether that man was just charming and witty, or if he was just trying to get in your head. You couldn’t tell the difference between a genuine interaction and a narcissistic one anymore.

You rolled his name over in your head, and found that you enjoyed how it sounded.

Lalo…

You found yourself mentally throttling your brain over how it began to assume the worst. That you had chosen to lightly insert yourself into an old man’s life when you shouldn’t have; that you were being selfish. Stupid. Dependant. All of the above. You felt the weight of your guilt strain on your shoulders, and you let it.

You were being selfish and childish. You didn’t have a family, and you needed to stop pretending you did just because an old man didn’t hate you.

A little over a week passed since you met Hector’s eccentric nephew, and you had to admit that he had entered your mind a few times despite you actively not trying to think of that family. You felt a pang of hurt in your chest every time you did. You had no business envying them- it wasn’t your place.

That Wednesday was a very pleasant day; there was a light breeze that cooled the air and dried the sweat that gathered on your brow. You rounded the corner of the main living area that fed out into the patio, and as you stepped out, the fresh air made you inhale deeply. As you looked up and down the outside area, you felt yourself pause. He was back. You were met with the amusing sight of Lalo Salamanca retrieve a flask, pour out the jello vitamin mix that sat in front of Hector, and pour a hefty serving of liquor inside the cup. You almost laughed. These elderly people loved their alcohol.

For a couple seconds, you allowed yourself to take in Lalo’s appearance. You knew he was handsome since you first saw him, but you felt as if you could appreciate just how well he cared for himself now. A rich purple polo that pulled tight around his biceps…neat hair and moustache, a polished gold necklace just peaking out against his chest-

Stop it.

You shook yourself and forced your mind to push any thoughts of him out. Your trust in your ability to judge a character was under great scrutiny every since…since you got away.

This man was charming, and that was it.

It was company policy for no alcohol to be on the premises, but instead of making Hector’s day even more miserable, you let him have a few sips as you stayed just out of their view until Lalo hid the flask. Once you stepped out, you let your professional smile settle onto your tired face.

“Good afternoon Señor Salamanca, Señor Lalo.” You greeted them; your nerves were already starting to amp up in his proximity, but you managed to speak with a little less discomfort than last time.

As if to return the greeting, you heard Hector’s bell sound just as the younger of the two turned to you and smiled, “Ahh the humble señorita.” Lalo leaned an arm over the back of his chair- opening his stance. His voice was a pleasant rumble in the back of his throat. You noted that he appeared to be far more at ease this visit. First visits were often the hardest for family- seeing their loved ones in a nursing-home could be a difficult pill to swallow.

Lalo continued, “You got a pretty sweet deal here.” He look at around appraisingly as he took in the patio. Admittedly it was one of the more favoured sections of the home and recently renovated. But he was right, it wasn’t that bad of a facility.

“I can’t complain too much.” You agreed, and folded your hands in front of yourself as you stood between the men. Lalo’s personality was far louder than what you were used to, and the part of you that craved human connection urned to keep up with him; once upon a time you might have had the ability…but not anymore. You admired how quick and bright-burning he was- like a firecracker.

Lalo smiled. “Polite.”

Your brow furrowed, “Sorry?”

He shook his head- smile growing- and looked at Hector then back to you, “Hey there’s nothing wrong with it- you’re humble too…you some kinda saint? You gotta be to work in a place like this- I’d lose my mind.” He laughed and leaned more into his chair.

His statement made you pause for a moment. It wasn’t that far off from the truth- the need for patience that is.

“Taking care of someone can mean accepting them like a part of your family…there’s a real selflessness that you have to find in you, Señor Lalo. For myself it’s a bit easier than most…I-I don’t exactly have much of a family, so Hector fills a pretty big void at the moment.” You said simply. It was the honest truth. You shared your patient’s happy moments and their worst moments; they trusted you with their well-being, so it was only fair that you cared for them blindly- job or not.

It was no small admission- to say that you were isolated- but Lalo had a way about him that loosened your tongue.

He stared up at you for a moment, then huffed out a laugh, “Be careful with a Salamanca, we bite.” He pointed at you playfully, though you gathered that while he was indeed teasing, there was a more serious connotation to his words.

Lalo’s dark eyes glittered with mirth as he regarded you.

“Even you, Señor Lalo?” You tilted your head to the side slightly, and watched him shyly.

The older man’s smile formed into an amused smirk, “Klah- me? Never.” He scoffed, but his bright eyes betrayed him.

This man was trouble.

Your lips tugged upwards as you nodded to both men; his jest was not lost on you. It was as if he wished you would ask him how hard his bite was, but you knew that would likely be a poor choice on your part. “Prey can bite too, Señor,” you quipped.

Evidently your response surprised the man as his thick brows rose up. You felt regret pull at you for engaging in his game, but you didn’t want to immediately back down. Shock was a nice expression to see on a man so sure of himself. You nodded to both men, and took a step back, “Enjoy your visit, Señors.”

You continued your route, and made your way onto your next check-up; the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your skull followed you as you went, and a few eager dings from Hector’s bell rang in your ears.

When you finished with one of your oldest patients, Thomas Lee - who did not get along with Hector at all- you tentatively looked back at the far table; it was empty now. Even Hector was gone. You sighed and pursed your mouth, knowing you were playing with fire with this man. A part of you hoped that he would stop coming, or visit on your couple days off.

Stupid.

You were being stupid, and that was that.

The day ended like every single one before that. With you and your coworkers exhaused, hungry, covered in sticky grime, and back sore. You stood in front of your locker, taking a drink from your bottle when another attendant you knew walked to hers. Samantha…yes, her name was Samantha.

“Hey.” You greeted her, smiling sympathetically at eachother.

“Going home too?” She asked as he took her hair down from its curly bun.

You nodded and retrieved your bag, hoping you had something in your fridge to eat. “Sure am…”

She unlocked her locker and smiled a little, “Saw you talking to that visitor of Hector’s today…he’s not bad on the eyes hey?” She smiled.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Oh, yeah…hes nice.” You replied, not wanting to get into it…but then a thought crossed your mind. “Sam?” You asked her.

She turned to you and nodded. “Mhm?”

“Do…do you know anything about Hector? Ab-about his family?” You murmured, looking up at her.

Her brows hopped up and she shuffled a little closer to you, “Mr. Salamanca?” She confirmed.

You nodded after a moment, not fully certain you were ready, but your curiosity was too strong.

Sam looked around briefly, “Well…I mean you know we’re not supposed to really ask questions or anything…” she began, “…but…I’ve heard a few things.” Sam nodded her head and you noticed her playfulness lessened.

You turned to her fully now and gave her your full attention…she seemed to understand that you were curious. That, and she had been trying to talk to you properly for months and was likely over the moon that you weren’t being skittish.

“I- I’d like to know…” you said a little more gently than you usually did.

She sighed, and nodded. “Apparently…those guys that dropped Hector off were really strange…didn’t speak, and just gave Ronny- the reception guy, remember he quit last month? Yeah him, anyways…they gave him this folder with all of Hector’s information and there was no spot open for the old fart…but after a few phone calls, there was suddenly a spot open. It was so weird, but- I don’t know…” she stopped her speculation but you wanted to hear more.

“Please- it- it’s okay, this is between us.” You reassured her, and you meant it. You had expected her to just brush you off or say no, but now it was as if the name Salamanca was a curiosity to you all.

A beat passed before Sam finished with her locker and shut it. “It just…I don’t speak much Spanish but they always speak so secretively…just…I don’t know they might just be talking about family gossip but sometimes it’s fun to imagine they’re actually some…I don’t know a mafia or cartel family or something.”

As the words left her mouth, you felt the blood drain from your face. Everything that struck you as strange flashed before your eyes and it began to make sense-

“But honestly they’re probably just weird- you should see my folks, they’re nuts. I just like to make stories up for everyone to make the days go faster! See you tomorrow.” She smiled and walked past you, leaving you there with this new possibility weighing heavy on you.

Once you finally pulled yourself from the locker room, and waved a few dazed goodbyes to the staff you saw, you stepped outside and walked out to the parking lot. Your car keys caught on your nurse’s mask as you pulled them from your bag and you tsked them. You were preoccupied with the task as you made your way in the direction of where you parked, and once you freed them and looked up, you froze in the middle of the parking lot.

You knew that curl of grey anywhere. Lalo stood leaning against your car, with his hands in his pockets and a friendly smile on his face pointed at you. Since meeting him, You had yet to see him stand up, and now at his full height, his sturdy frame overpowered you even from a few meters away. He was tall and broad and confident, and you felt very small all of a sudden.

“So! Where are we going?” He said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Wha-?” You asked as you managed to go closer.

He rolled his eyes “C’mon- you hungry? I’m famished.” He stood away from the hood, and his tone was so persuasive you almost forgot about what Sam had said.

Almost.

You shook your head and tried to be as friendly as you could in an effort to hide how your hands shook, “Really it’s alright, I’m —“

His smile finally dropped. “Get in.”

His statement made you contemplate running. Getting back inside the retirement home and locking yourself in a closet, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t end well. Hell you doubted you’d even make it a few paces from him before his big hand grabbed your hair. So against your better judgement, you nodded and wordlessly handed him the keys.

“There she goes, Atta girl.” He smiled again, and accepted the keys joyfully; this time the creases around his eyes deepened. Lalo slid into the drivers side and started the car. As he went to back out, he cast a look around the inside, and seemed to note that you didn’t take the best care of the car.

“You need a tool box?” He asked.

You buckled yourself in and barely caught what he said as you mentally screamed at yourself for getting in the car. Were you really that stupid? “Wha- huh? Oh-“ you caught where he was looking and cursed yourself for being so sloppy.

You backseat housed several materials you carried with you in case you car broke down -which it had the tendency to do. A pair of wire cutters wrapped in duct tape and some pliers to match, a lug wrench, a jack and a pylon…not to mention a first aid kit and a blanket. “I’m…I uh…just haven’t had the time.” You murmured, “Sorta new here.”

The older man frowned exaggeratedly and rose his brows as if to say “Alright then.” And silently put the car in reverse. He backed out with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of your seat, and you had no choice but to smell his scent…you didn’t know if it was cologne or something else but he smelled of smoke and whiskey…and something sweet like syrup. Like he had been sitting in front of a fire drinking after dessert.

“So! Why don’t you tell me about yourself.” Lalo navigated easily through the streets, and looked over at you like you were old friends.

You thought for a moment, having taken an interest in a hangnail on your thumb. “Not much to tell, Señor.” You said as you looked up. It wasn’t a lie. Your story was a sad one and not a terribly interesting one at that.

“Cmon.” He dragged the word out, “You said you count my Tio as family…any normal person wouldn’t say that in a million years.” The older man laughed and tilted his head to chase your gaze a little when you averted your eyes.

“Why do you say that?” You asked as you looked down again.

Lalo gave you a pointed look. “Smart girl like you can figure that out, niñita.”

You sighed. It wasn’t as if you could just walk away from the conversation…he had you. Regardless of his motivations, Lalo was undoubtedly protective of his uncle…and you had to respect that. You wished you knew what it was like to have someone so protective, but you could imagine it was liberating.

“You think I have some kind of alterier motive behind my kindness to your uncle.” You said simply, trusting your intuition.

Lalo looked out the window, and you wondered if he had even heard your answer.

“You hungry?” He asked, pointing to a burger joint as he already turned his indicator on to pull in.

The sudden change in topic made you blink, your brain lagging. “I-…sure. Don’t stop on my account though I have food at home.” You squeezed your hands out of anxiousness, but he was already going to the drive thru. You had completely forgotten about how hungry you were for the last hour when you saw him in the parking lot. Now seeing the menu, your stomach growled.

“Whatdya want?” He asked expectantly.

It felt so…domestic. You had gone from being certain you might end up being interrogated in a warehouse to him taking you for food in a matter of seconds. You felt your stomach tighten with unease at the memory of the last person who had taken you through a drive thru; that time however you had been disassociating so badly you didn’t even remember ordering nor eating. Ungrateful he had called you.

Snap snap

Your eyes refocused and saw a large hand in front of your face having just snapped a couple times to get your attention.

You swallowed and sighed to steady yourself.

“What’s good here?” You asked, turning to him.

One of his full brows was raised at your odd behaviour, but his face went back to his playful demeanour instantly. “Depends…but their number 2 and number 8 are good.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “What do you get?”

He held up two fingers, pulling the car up through the drive thru to the speaker, “I’m from the south though so I like to add extra spice. Burns your mouth right off but god it’s worth it, you know?” The lines around his mouth and eyes deepened when he smiled and spoke.

Your couldn’t help but return the smile a little at him. You gathered he could probably befriend anyone he set his sights on. A people person…regardless of how intimidating he was.

“I’ll get the same…but um, I think I’d like to keep my mouth.” You said the last part a little shyly, hoping he wouldn’t take offence.

Lalo laughed, “Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing how red your pretty face would get!”

You…were not expecting that. You didn’t have time to reply or ask him to repeat himself before he was leaning out the window and adding extra fries to your order.

“You ever been to Mexico?” Lalo asked as he started driving again up to the window.

You shook your head, “No…haven’t been to a lot of places.”

He gasped, “No! Really? Ahh man, you’d love it. Best food in the world.”

When the window came into view you instinctively reached for your purse when you saw Lalo already producing a $20, and re-pocketing a wad of cash. He tsked you when he noticed you.

The woman at the window handed him the two bags of food and drinks and he smiled charmingly. “Gracias!” Lalo beamed, depositing your order in your lap, then began his way through the city again.

“Plain number 2 for you and fun number 2 for papi, you like orange? I got you an orange soda, you’re gonna love it. Used to smuggle these bastards when I was a kid…my Tio beat the shit outta me for it.” He laughed as he handed you the drink; shaking his head as he steered the car one handed and rifled through his paper bag with the other.

You accepted the orange coloured soda, brows shooting up. He was…generous. The smell of the burger hit you, and you felt your mouth water. It had been ages since you had a proper meal, even if it was take-out. You tentatively took your food out, and took a bite. You swore stars erupted in front of your eyes as the taste filled your mouth; pleasure sensors in your brain lighting up.

The older man beside you watched you out of the corner of his eye as he ate and drove. A proficient multitasker. You were hungry. Seemingly non-threatening…skittish…but you weren’t off-putting. Tired. Definitely tired.

Lalo pulled off the main road and began the drive into the neighbourhoods; he continued to take the occasional bite of his food as he drove. You wondered how he could be so relaxed constantly. You wondered if he had a single tense bone in his body. He was always at ease…like he was always 10 steps ahead of everyone. He was handsome, and you wondered if he used that as a distraction for what lay underneath; perhaps he was a calculating, plotting and scheming man under all the smiles and goofy theatrics…

Your food was gone within 5 minutes.

When Lalo finally looked over at you, he barked out a pleased laugh when he saw the empty wrapper and your last few fries in your hand.

“Shit, I’d better be careful or you might eat me!” He joked, and took a sip of his soda.

You hadn’t realized it but your shoulders had dropped and your fists had unclenched. You were relaxed.

And the older man beside you knew it.

“Tell me…what do you know about us Salamancas.” He said as if he was commenting on the weather.

You knew the question was coming, how could he not ask?

You put your drink down, and thought carefully. “You’re all very…intense.” You replied.

Lalo laughed, “Good one. What else?”

This time you fiddled with a napkin still in your lap. You didn’t want him to think you actually knew anything, because you honestly didn’t. You used your brain and speculated and observed, but you didn’t know much at all. You knew Hector likes grape jello more than raspberry and that Lalo’s necklace was that of Saint Anne- the Mother of Santa Maria…but that was the extent of what you knew for certain.

“You run some kind of business…here in Albuquerque…and I…I think you’re not just some nobody with an uncle in a nursing home…” You murmured almost to yourself. You half hoped he would ask you to repeat yourself so you could come up with something else…but his ears were as sharp as a fox.

“Ahh see, clever girl. I thought so.” His smile slowly faded into a calm line. “Why do you care for my Tio? Don’t tell me he’s your type- you’ll break my heart.” Lalo’s cheeky grin came back.

The jest did lighten your anxiety a little, just as the food had, but you noted that he ignored the mention it the business. He was evasive. And he was charming while he did it.

You knew Lalo had his doubts about you…even if it was for the home itself and not just you, you were th# lucky bastard who he had chosen to interrogate. If you wanted him to understand exactly why it was that you were so at ease with caring for grumpy elderly people - specifically Hector- you needed him to see your perspective. If this was any other relative of a patient, you would have jumped out of the car or booked it before he could have even gotten you inside…but you had a nagging feeling that the only way this would end well was if you saw it through. No matter how painful it was.

“You didn’t see him for the last 2 months, Señor…” You said gently, “He’s…he’s been alone. Completely. No visitors, no friends amongst the other patients…he’s- well non-verbal patients have a difficult time as it is…but paralysed one’s have it even harder…and I- well…I don’t exactly have anyone…at all really. Don’t have contact with anyone so…I think there’s just a certain level of recognition between people who are alone. I’ve been looking after Hector for two months now…you don’t know how hard it is to see him sit alone during visiting hours- for any of my patients that have to do that for that matter. I wouldn’t wish loneliness on my worst enemy, Señor. He didn’t have anyone and if he died tomorrow I wouldn’t sleep knowing he didn’t at least think someone cared enough to look after him, blood related or not.”

You meant it. You knew your fate was likely destined to be a lonely one, but if you could change that for someone else, then you were going to do your damned best…of course you had to chose a more complicated person but it wasn’t as if you were a terribly lucky person.

Lalo didn’t take his eyes off the road, and it wasn’t until the car stopped that you realized you were outside your little apartment building. Lalo tapped on the steering wheel for a moment, then he turned in his seat to face you.

“You mean that?” He asked, turning his gaze to you.

You went to open your mouth but he gave you a look that pinned you to the spot. He didn’t need to say anything for him to convey “don’t fuck around with me.”.

“You seem to be a busy man, Señor…maybe a wife or even a family,” You mused aloud while you ripped a piece of napkin. Your distracted gaze meant you missed how Lalo’s nostrils flared when you mentioned him having a family, “You must have a comfortable life…one way or another. But not everyone has that. A lot of people don’t. I…I don’t have much…my work is my life right now. Sure they’re not the most lively people to engage with but my patients mean a lot to me…because they take up a lot of my life…and after- well…right now I don’t mind it.” You said with conviction, then sighed, “Sounds sad now that I say it aloud…but don’t doubt me.” You turned to look at Lalo in those dark eyes of his, “Don’t you dare doubt me.”

As you spoke, Lalo’s mouth faded into a firm line under his moustache. But even then, his eyes glittered. He was quiet for a few moments, then he hummed.

“You got a mouth on you, kid.” He rumbled.

You held his stare for a moment. You were certain you had crossed a line with telling him off.

Then, just when you were certain he might jump on you or worse, he broke out in a laugh and smile, smacking the wheel in amusement, “I see why Hector likes you. You got a bite for being a ratoncito…I’d hate to see someone knock your teeth out.” He dropped your keys in your hand and in one fluid motion opened his door and stepped out.

His sense of humour was borderline morbid, but seeing him smile while saying it more reassuring than him not.

You followed suit, and stepped out of the car; Lalo joined you on the sidewalk as he seemed to inspect the neighbourhood. Then as he stood there with his hands at his sides, you remembered that he had no way of getting back to his own car at the nursing home.

“I- Thank you for driving me home, Señor…can I- can I call you a cab?” You didn’t know what else to say. This man had practically interrogated you, bought you dinner, and drove you home. You didn’t know what to do with an interaction like that; we’re you supposed to run and hide or thank him?…or both? You didn’t know why, but regardless of his intentions, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be scared of him…not really. He was intimidating and imposing, certainly, but it wasn’t as if he was threatening you.

You hated that you couldn’t come to a concise evaluation of the man.

Lalo shrugged and looked down at you. “Nah.” He said playfully.

Your brows scrunched up in confusion and you were about to protest, but then a red car pulled up almost directly behind him with the same man who had been standing with him that first day. Nacho? Nacho.

“Señor Lalo?” You called as he opened the door. The older man turned to you and looked at you expectantly.

“What, still hungry?” He replied.

You forced yourself to look him in the eye.

“If you insist upon giving Hector alcohol…I suggest the second to last table on the patio towards the west. Much fewer eyes.” You said simply.

Lalo smiled widely and pointed his index finger at you. He did that often, you noticed. “I’ll pour you one next time, eh?” He laughed.

You smiled a little. “I don’t think that would end well.”

“I look forward to it!” He smiled even wider and you pursed your lips to keep from returning it. You didn’t want him to know that he was wrapping you around his finger whether you liked it or not.

Lalo sat in the the car, and he waved briefly before they pulled away and left you there with your head still reeling. You didn’t even remember walking up to your apartment or undressing or getting into the shower…but there you were under the warm stream of water trying to understand and rationalise what had just transpired. You were frightened, then at ease, then thankful, then suspicious, then open, then…you head spun. You had become to accustomed to your little quiet bubble with minimal interactions outside of it…and this man had forced his way through it like a freight train.

And what frighted you the most was that you didn’t want him not to.

Your hands shook as you remembered the last time someone had seemed so charming and sweet. You rolled your eyes.

Arms length. You would keep this man at arms length- just like you did with almost everyone else.

Three weeks passed before you saw Lalo Salamanca again.

It wasn’t as if you expected to see him often, or even at all…but the man had a certain way about him that made you miss his presence. He was so all-consuming and confident that it was noticeable when he wasn’t there. You also noticed how Hector’s mood began to drop again. You didn’t blame him.

In an attempt to make the man a little easier to handle, you started teaching yourself some simple Spanish when you had the time. It helped greatly that several clients and staff members spoke it well, and they humoured you in teaching you a few things each day. You supposed they were mostly taking pity on you, but you didn’t mind too much.

You started to feel a little more normal since coming to the scorching city…like you were starting to grow away from where you had run from. You even made a joke that made Jim laugh.

In the back of your mind, you did feel something odd though. Like there was something in your peripheral that you just couldn’t catch. You had sworn that you’d seen the same car on your route for a few days…but you also knew that your paranoia was still very present.

By the second week, you begun to notice how much the language helped around the home. Staff taught you basic things that you said day to day, and your patients helped with more conversational language…your empty head was thankful for the distraction and soaked it up like a sponge. You were tired of the nervous and stressful thoughts that usually occupied the space.

It was early on a Friday when you heard the unmistakable sound of Hector’s bell ringing. You hoped it was that he had gotten his favourite breakfast and not that he had been seated beside someone he didn’t like- you gadnt had enough coffee yet to deal with angry seniors.

There was very little to do following breakfast as the clients enjoyed some free time before activities started; you indulged your curiosity and followed the ringing sound. You sought it out until you came to the patio, and you felt a tiny smile on your lips when you looked past the array of wheelchairs and nurses; there at the second to last table sat two very engaged Salamancas facing away from the entrance you came from.

You saw Lalo give his uncle the occasional sip from the styrofoam cup on the table, and you already knew that was no vitamin mix in there. As you inconspicuously made your way over, checking on a few clients as you went, you began to notice just how tense Lalo seemed from behind. You didn’t want to think that you knew he body language perfectly, but for someone who was usually aloof in his mannerisms, having tight shoulders was far more noticeable.

You slowed your steps once you got closer; they were in conversation. A one sided one but you knew they communicated regardless of Hector’s muteness.

Then you made the poor decision to listen. Your Spanish was very juvenile, but you had come to pick up on a lot - especially phrases and words that were similar to English. Which was why you started to realise that what you were listening to Lalo say was not meant to be heard by anyone but his Tio.

With what you knew and could piece together, you heard a few words that sounded familiar enough; secreto, hombre pollo, establecimiento, restaurante, and quemar. The last one you knew very well thanks to an elderly woman named Pricilla pouring hot tea into the lap of an elderly man named Jerry -evidently his admission of love to her was false and she found out- and his cries of “Quemar!” still rang in your ears. Your mind worked to add everything together and from what you could gather was that there was a restaurant of some kind that could very well end up burned to the ground…and you were fairly certain that Lalo disliked the owner or manager.

Hector’s dinging continued, and you could almost taste the tension growing.

You were about to take the last few strides right up to them, but one word stopped you.

…Cártel.

Every muscle in your body froze simultaneously.

It was no confirmation, but it might as well have been.

It fit.

The respect Hector seemed used to, the rumours, Nacho standing like a guard dog, the lack of visitors, the sudden admission of Hector into the home, the low conversations…you thought back to when he had driven you home and added intimidation tactics to the list. The wad of cash in Lalo’s pocket too.

Then, you felt yourself unclench and a morbid sense of peace washed over you. It wasn’t as if you were reassured; it was that you were still alive. It didn’t mean a lot, but it meant that they either liked you, or had a better use for you…and by god you hoped that use was simply to look after Hector and not to swallow baggies of drugs to smuggle across the border.

And of all people, you had chosen them to befriend.

“There she is!”

You refocused your eyes and as your gaze landed on the man with the skunk stripe on his temple, you let a polite grin grace your features. He was half turned in his chair to greet you- that smile already pulling under his groomed moustache.

“Señor Salamanca, I see you’re enjoying your special juice.” You gave both men a knowing look, then turned back to Lalo, “Señor Lalo, it’s been a little while since I saw you last. I hope you’ve been alright.” You heard yourself say.

You supposed there was no point in trying to run. They had you, and you had let them reel you in; there was no reason to be cold to them. It wasn’t as if you were a cookie cutter Mary-sue yourself.

“Ahh you know how it is…la vida es una locura.” He waved his hand aloofly, resting his arm over the back of his chair. You noticed that he did not elaborate nor answer your query.

“I think I have an idea.” You confirmed both his English and his Spanish.

The easy smile on Lalo’s face seemed to go still. It no longer reached his eyes, and you took a little reckless satisfaction in that.

“Really?” He asked with a prodding tone. You had a feeling he was quick to catch your double meaning.

You smiled tightly, adjusting Hector’s chair since his nurse hadn’t. “Truly.” You replied. “You must be busy…Business doesn’t run itself, I’m sure.” You were walking on ice, and you knew it…but you enjoyed poking at the beast a little.

Lalo’s lips parted at your quip, then he barked out a laugh and pointed at you, “You got some eyes on you.”

You couldn’t remember the full story of Icarus, but you knew he died because he flew too close to the sun regardless of his fathers warnings…and you felt very much like that foolish Greek man. Lalo was a scorching flame and you were standing far too close.

“Always good to see you, Señor Lalo…enjoy your visit.” You nodded to Hector who had been watching the exchange between the two of you, and he dinged his bell at you once.

“Adios.” Lalo gave you a two fingered wave, and you excused yourself.

As soon as your back turned from them, your hands began to shake; adrenaline moved through your blood like a poison or antidote. You didn’t know which.

Jim passed by you with a greeting smile and nod, and you schooled your face quickly. “Could you take Thomas into the bingo room? It’s 2:30.” He said to you, and you welcomed the task to ground you.

“Sure thing.” You murmured.

You didn’t fully remember the rest of the day- you were too busy trying to remember everything you had heard Lalo say to his Tio…jotting things down on sticky notes with poor spelling and guessed words. You almost felt…responsible for what you heard. You knew you were in deep, and you knew that by being curious you were digging yourself even deeper, but somehow you couldn’t stop. It was a sick need to know exactly what you were dealing with.

The day ended like every single one before it; you were exhaused and aching and only had a few thoughts in your head and most of them were of how comfortable your bed would be once you got home. The only difference that day was your anxiety over the notes you had made that day- hoping you didn’t forget any.

You swore under your breath when your keys once again were caught on something in your bag-

“Fancy seeing you here, niña.”

Your head snapped up despite you trying to keep yourself as calm as possible. You swore the older man just liked making you jump.

“Do you practice those lines in the mirror Señor Lalo?” You asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him; Lalo was leaned against your car just as he had taken to doing now.

“You wound me!” He gasped, placing his hand on his chest.

“How long have you been out here?” You asked, standing almost toe to toe to him as he refused to move from his place.

You knew he likely wanted something, and he was using his perfected charm and relentlessness to get it. You internally braced yourself for him to tell you to get in the car again…that he knew you knew more than you let on…and that you should make peace with whatever god you had before putting an extra hole in your head. You didn’t want to think the worst of him and his family, but if that did indeed happen, you wouldn’t be shocked.

But Lalo didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything at first. His smile didn’t falter, though it did lower a little to sit comfortably under his moustache. You watched as he unfolded one of his arms from across his chest and extend his hand to you- what was in it more specifically. There was a little yellow piece of paper folded between his forefinger and middle finger.

“No bedtime stories alright?” He pointed at you with a teasing and cheeky grin on his mouth as he winked down at you.

You took the paper, and felt his skin brush yours for half a second- he was warm. You chose to ignore that, and you focused on unfolding it. It was just a number. His. He had given you his phone number. A cartel phone number. Your brain started reeling again. Then, as you looked at it, you make a mental note that the writing was slanted the opposite way than you usually saw, then you thought for a moment.

He was left handed.

You grinned to yourself at the realisation. You didn’t know why you saved that information, but it made the enigmatic man in front of you seem more human- like knowing he had a belly button or that he had baby teeth that fell out at one time. It was perhaps childish but you liked knowing more about him.

“I-…Thank you.” You said as you placed it neatly into your purse. Once upon a time you would have refused the number and told him it was alright- that you didn’t need it, that if he wanted to get in touch with Hector he could go through the home….but you supposed you knew better now. You knew he didn’t take no for an answer, and you supposed you should show some respect to him for giving you something so personal.

“Atta girl. Don’t work too hard, eh?” He finally moved out of your way and began back to his own -much nicer- car.

“Likewise!” You called to him and he seemed pleased with your answer as he smiled.

You watched the older man get inside his Monte Carlo, and you mirrored him. Your car was hot and the seat radiated unwanted warmth into your back, but you could barely focus on that. You pulled out, and passed his as you went to the exit. Lalo watched you go, and while you waved, he returned it with two fingers extended up from the wheel.

You knew you had errands to run, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to. The notes you had made yourself were burning holes in your pockets, and your want to know what they meant was outweighing your need for groceries and laundry detergent.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with getting home that you didn’t even notice the car that was following you; just as it had been for weeks.

The sticky notes sat arranged neatly on your floor, and your computer stared back at you as you considered your options.

Option 1: try to find proper translations of what was said and risk knowing too much and possible death.

Option 2: tear the papers up and pretend you heard nothing and act like the Salamancas are just an honest business owning family…and possible death because you were naive and didn’t know what you were getting into.

You felt your eye twitch.

Both such tempting options.

But the more you thought, the louder that one word became.

Cartel.

You really know how to pick ‘em y/n…

You sighed and rolled your shoulders as you began typing. You knew that whatever translator you could find wouldn’t be perfect, but you just needed enough to understand. The English to Spanish dictionary you had bought two weeks ago sat open beside you are you poured over the notes you had made. The more you typed and searched and double check, the more your mind began to race- evidently there was indeed more to that family than you had anticipated when you initially befriended their patriarch.

You stared at the translated sentences now, and heaved a sigh.

“We need to burn that restaurant to the ground. I’ll burn it like last time, uncle.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“The chicken man’s establishments are blinding him, can’t see past his greed.”

“He thinks his secret is so fantastic.”

You knew they weren’t perfect translations, but you got the message. There was unrest, and Lalo was sent to deal with it. Whoever this “chicken man” was, he was causing problems.

You let your eyes glaze over as you started to think.

A restaurant.

You checked your notes.

“Restaurants.” Plural.

So a chain of restaurants.

With chicken?

Chicken was a code name? No…Lalo wouldn’t do code names…he mocks people and pokes at their weaknesses, but he’s not the CIA or FBI. He was being literal when he called him the “Chicken man.”

Did he smuggle drugs in chickens? Use it as a cover?

Chicken is their speciality?

You stared at your original note with Spanish.

“Los pollos” …you had seen that somewhere before. You felt your brain stretch as you tried to recall. A restaurant…Los pollos…you started to run the two ideas around in your mind.

Restaurant…Los pollos…restaurant…Los pollos-

Your head snapped up and you frantically scrambled over to your pile of spam mail that you had been ignoring. You knew that name. You did.

You grabbed a chunk of the mail and started sifting through it carefully, scanning every new cellphone, ever greasy pizza place, every-

Your hand gripped blue and yellow ad a little tighter.

The two chicken logo stared back at you.

Los Pollos Hermanos.

No. There was no way.

You couldn’t help the little laugh that came from your chest- either from stress or shock, you weren’t sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

You had driven past it a few times. It was always so clean looking, and you remembered the nice smell you always caught through your window when you passed by it.

You were about to tell yourself that you were being delusional, and that you were too invested in this…but then you supposed the saying of “it’s always the quiet ones” could apply to more than just people. Nice, cookie-cutter restaurants could perhaps be fronts for a drug dealing cartel.

The initial shock began to wear off, and you slowly started to look over what else you had translated.

“I’ll take care of it.” Lalo had said.

Burn the restaurant down, more like…

You wondered what he was capable of. Had he killed people? How many?

Your thoughts strayed to the man himself.

Trouble. That was what you first thought of him.

You thought about his charm and charisma…how he carried himself. He was a confident man in every sense. He adapted his tactics to fit the people he wanted something from…you knew he used it on you too. He was kind and a little pushy but not enough to scare you. He bought you food and drove you home with no immediate expectation…he made you smile and welcomed you. He made you feel seen. Criminal or not…he saw you.

A stupid idea crossed your mind. You knew you were in deep already, and with each passing day it was as if you took a shovel and continued to dig deeper. The thought you had was fuelled purely by your own involvement with the Salamancas and juvenile selfishness.

A stupid impulse to help the two people who made you feel like a human.

Without another thought, you grabbed your bag, checked the stove clock, and were in your car within 5 minutes. You didn’t even bother the change. The route that took you by Los Apollo’s was almost muscle memory, and you were able to let your mind wander as you went. Anything to keep you distracted from what you were doing.

It was closing time once you reached the restaurant. Lights were being shut off, and you could see several workers leaving, and a few more mopping the floors. As you pulled into a parking spot across the street to watch, you noted that there was a level of order to the way duties were carried out. It was methodical and you wondered what kind of training these kids went through…

Every so often, you would see an older man come out to the front and inspect something. His back was straight was he moved just as carefully as the staff cleaned; he was in a yellow dress shirt and tie- nothing significant. The manager or owner you assumed. Your interest was peaked.

You sat there for two hours until almost every single person left. Almost. You waited an extra 20 minutes before leaving, and you were glad you did. If you had left after that those two hours, you wouldn’t have seen that same older man you have observed off and on for 120 minutes exit the building, only now he resembled almost an entirely different person. He was in a sharp black suit, and the change had you so distracted that you didn’t even catch the bulky, black SUV pull in around where the man stood off to the side of the building. Of course, it could have just been nothing- it wasn’t up to you to judge what someone looked like or did after work…but things were clicking together far too easily for you to just gaslight yourself into thinking everyone was Mr.Rogers.

After what you heard Lalo say, you felt your gut sink as you decided that you were indeed not looking at an average business owner. Your I tuition had let you down before, but something about the heat of Albuquerque had you seeing people much more clearly…and if Lalo wanted this man gone, then you had a sneaking suspicion that was a big deal.

The black SUV drove away with the man in it, and you decided that was enough for one night. All at once, your suspicions and thoughts and curiosities were all but confirmed; all you needed was a sign on that man’s back that said “You were right”. You drove home, and welcomed the sight of your small apartment. A morbid part of you half expected someone to be waiting for you when you got back…someone who saw you watching…or perhaps even Lalo himself- perhaps you had become a loose end? But there was nothing. No one waiting for you…just your quiet 400 square feet. Your thoughts were whirling, and sleep seemed like a far away fantasy as you sat on your couch and stared at a crack in the paint.

You had indeed gotten mixed into something far bigger than you- there was no denying that anymore. However, now that you had very nearly completely solidified everything you had wondered, you knew there was no chance in backing out now. You could certainly play dumb for a while…but Lalo was so smart it scared you, and he would figure it out sooner or later.

So you kept digging.

Against your better judgement, you repeated your stakeout the following night. You sat there with a container of takeout, and watched closely. Just like the night before, the business ran, closed, was cleaned and shut up like clockwork.

Methodical.

Careful.

It was fascinating.

This time, however, that older man you had watched last time left in a car already parked there, and it looked far more civilian. You supposed it would draw suspicion if he constantly left work in a black suv. You almost laughed. It was all so ludicrous.

You felt like you were having a strange dream instead of your more constant nightmares. It was far more enjoyable but no less concerning. Where you usually woke up with a tight chest and heart beat so fast it hurt; sweat on your skin and hair sticky, you hope that perhaps if this was a dream that you might wake up and laugh at the idiocy of it all. How silly you were in it. But the more you sat there in your car, and as you drove home, and showered and ate and stared out your window…you started to realise that you were in no dream.

You really were being an idiot. A stupid, impulsive traumatised idiot.

Two days went by after your last visit to the restaurant. Two days of contemplation.

You knew why you were doing those things. You did. But you still found yourself asking yourself why. It was like you craved the anxiety or the adrenaline that came with doing something you know could end badly. What did that say about your mental state?

The file in your hand sat open as you stood behind the reception desk. You had been trying to focus on reading it for two minutes but your eyes repeatedly unfocused as your mind strayed. You just needed to check one of the client’s family member’s number, but you couldn’t seem to even pull yourself together enough for that. You blew the strand of hair that had come free and hung in front of your eyes for the fifth time; you had given up trying to move it.

You heard the main door open and you briefly looked up out of habit, but you took a second glance when you saw that familiar face walk through.

“Good morning Señor.” You said, brows raised in surprise as something stirred in your chest at the sight of his confident strides. This was the first time you had actually seen him enter- most of the time it was like he just materialised out of nowhere.

Lalo rounded the desk to where you were coming out and leaned against it. “Do you know that they’re charging 25¢ more for parking here? It’s criminal, man.” He shook his head.

His statement made a little smile escape you but you schooled it fast.

“I apologise, would you like a word with the owner?” You asked with a little sarcasm, “I’m sure you could talk some sense into him.”

He nodded as if weighing the option, then waved it off and looked around the foyer. “How’s my tio?” He asked calmly, “The old dog up yet?” Lalo looked back at you and flicked his gaze between your eyes. You couldn’t look away. Caught.

You finally tried to tuck the stay hair away again to no avail, and swallowed, “He’s in the activities room. He tipped two full cups of juice over this morning already to look at nurse’s asses when they bent over.” You said as straight faced as you could, though the image had made you giggle to yourself earlier.

Lalo chuckled, “Ese perro viejo no cambia...no harm done, eh?” He reached out and tucked the piece of your hair back behind your ear, then casually started to walk in the direction of the activity room and you took that at your cue to follow him. You had gone still when he had touched you, and you did your best to not let on how shocked you were by the gesture.

Lalo was speaking about something, but while you wanted to listen, you couldn’t quiet find it in you to pay attention. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting, or that you didn’t care…it was that you had a startling realisation. You had missed him. That was what you had felt when you saw him…it was happiness. The pleasure of seeing him again. Then when he had moved you hair, you realised how badly you had wanted to lean into his palm.

It startled you.

You scolded yourself. It was a a fantasy. That was it. You were just latching onto him because he spoke to you…hell you might have done the same to the greeter at a supermarket if he was nice enough. It was silly. Just like you.

You walked quietly until you came close to the door, then you stopped and let him go ahead. “Disfrute de su visita, señor.” You said, and the older man paused. Lalo turned to you, but you were already starting to walk past him.

“Gracias, Niña.” He called and you turned and nodded.

You didn’t turn around again, but Lalo watched you walk away for a moment. You didn’t need to see him to know it- his gaze burned. The older man stood there for a moment longer and flexed his hand. You were trouble.

That night, you sat in your car, parked on the street just out of the ring of the fluorescent street lamp light; eyes unfocused, medical mask in hand. It was 3am, and you hadn’t slept a wink. All you could think of was what you were very ready to do.

Another ten minutes went by before you refocused your vision and blinked. You looked across the street, and stared at the empty restaurant. It had been vacant for hours- the only movement you saw were the odd couple pulling into the parking lot for a quick drunken blowjob. Besides that, it was just you and the task you had given yourself.

Breaking and entering wasn’t a skill you appreciated having…but thanks to your ex, you did. He had taken to harvesting copper wires when money got tight…and he had always coerced you into coming with him despite your discomfort and anxiety. “You n me, baby, c’mon.” He would say as he dragged you out of the car. But you always had the sense that it was only you and him until you got caught. Asshole.

You sighed and threw your door open. You might now have known a lot, but you knew how to open a lock and mess with wiring without getting yourself fried in the process. That was enough.

With those old wire-cutters of yours in hand and mask on, you threw up your hood, and moved with the shadows. You rounded the restaurant, and snuck to the back where the staff entrance was locked up well. You half wished that the lock would have been enough to deter you…that you didn’t know how to pick a lock at all. But it didn’t, and you did.

You reached into your pocket, and took a couple small gadgets that you still had from the asshat, and began fiddling with the thick padlock. Your heart was thudding in your ears while you worked away.

What are you doing?

You screamed at yourself mentally, wishing you had an answer to your internal question but you came up with nothing. Only that you needed to do something.

Click

A sigh of relief huffed from your mouth when the lock popped open. Your shaking hands quickly slid it out of place, and you were about to push on the door when you wondered if they had a security alarm set in place. It was entirely possible. But you knew you had your hands covered in gloves and your car not too far if the cops were alerted.

You decided that even if there was an alarm you had enough time to run. With another deep breath, you tugged on the handle of the door, and pulled. To your good fortune, there was indeed no additional alarm.

Once the relief faded, and your focus returned, you made quick work of finding the electrical box. It was on the wall just down from the back door. You thanks god that it was small. You carefully opened it, and stared at the web of wires and switches that greeted you. You groaned a little, and looked at the pliers in your hand, then back at the wires. Your hands trembled more now than you recalled they used to. You supposed your body was forced not to show weakness in front of him…

You shook your head. “Focus.”

Just to be safe, you flicked off a few of the switches that looked to be connected to the wire sets you were eyeing as your target. The last thing you wanted was to get zapped and pass out. It wasn’t as if you were going to clip any…you didn’t want things to completely stop working. Just a few mistakes that would cause a big enough issue for the restaurant.

A half hour passed before you were finally content with the work your had done. Indeed, the web of wires before you now had exactly three faults that would slowly weaken and cause issues throughout the restaurant. Machines not working, and if left long enough they would likely cause a fire. It would mean a plethora of further issues too if an anonymous tip was called in regarding a poor and unsafe work environment.

With a deep breath and a few prayers, you flipped the power back on. The emergency light turned on and the box in front of you fizzed for a moment with the newly damaged wiring, but to your relief nothing exploded.

Your nerves started to come back now that you were finished. You flicked your eyes around and patted yourself down to ensure you left nothing behind, but just as you were doing so, you heard voices. A shot of fear surged through you, and your fight or flight kicked in. The latter won. You were out the back door within seconds and snapping the lock back into place as your mind went into hyperdrive. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps rounding the building; you breath felt too warm against your mask and your fingers barely managed to get the lock in place before you had to bolt. You hid in the shadows and crept along the side of the building until you could see your car and you ran. Your heart beat as fast at your legs were moving, and you didn’t stop until you were behind the wheel, and driving away. You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t stop to check even if you wanted to.

The sun had risen long ago, and you half wished you had to get ready for work…anything to get yourself busy and distracted from what you had done that night. It was a warm afternoon, and your hands were clammy as you sat on your couch with your phone sitting in front of you and the thick Albuquerque phonebook beside your thigh.

Just pick it up. Pick. It. Up.

Pick it up.

Pick-

You sighed and scratched your head before snatching the receiver up dialling the number you had your finger on in the phonebook.The ringing set your nerves alight as you waited. The monotonous tone lulled your for a moment, so when someone picked up, you almost jumped out of your skin. The person greeted you and introduced themselves with a name you didn’t hear. “How can I help you?” They asked.

You swallowed, but you had to do this unless you wanted the problem you had created to get even worse. “Hello, I-I’d like to make a complaint regarding unsafe working conditions? No, I’d like to remain anonymous please…Yes…yes that’s right. Huh? Oh, at Los Pollos Hermanos.”

“BELOVED LOS POLLOS HERMANOS UNCOVERED”

It was on the front page two days later. Evidentially a tip had been called in that there was severe malpractice in the restaurant, and after a health inspector had been sent…they had found exactly that. Issues with basic wiring- a truly unsafe working environment. Due to something so simple being so wrong, every other aspect of Los Pollos was thus being investigated, and the business had been shut down until further notice.

It was the talk of the nursing home when you came to work, and you forced a look of surprise as people groaned about it. However, while you did feel a small sense of guilt…you couldn’t hide the creeping satisfaction that began to settle in you. It had worked.

There was the tiniest secret smile on your face that got you a few strange looks, but you brushed it off with a “I just slept well.” A part of you was mortified that you had done such a thing…worrying that somehow they knew it was you and that police officers would pull up at any moment to arrest you…but it never happened.

You carried on your day like any other, and you began to seek out Hector in hopes that he had somehow heard what had happened…or perhaps that you could tell him yourself. Then as you walked, you began to feel worry creep into your thoughts.

What if I crossed a line?

What if I ruined one of their plans?

What if Lalo had wanted to be the one to take care of the restaurant?

You started to wring your hands as you walked out to the patio, but your head snapped to a table where you heard a laugh you knew very well. There was no coincidence that Lalo was sat there with his uncle that day- you knew that. And judging by the ringing of Hector’s bell, he was in a good mood.

You weren’t sure that you were ready to speak to him after what you had done…you were filled with so much uncertainty. If he didn’t like what had happened then he would likely track down who had done it and when he found you…that would be it.

You took a deep breath and went to walk back inside, but you were stopped short when a whistle caught your attention. You hated how fast you stopped and turned to it.

Sure enough, that man with the devious smile was staring at you openly with a friendly wave. You hoped to god that he was genuinely happy and not just luring you in. With one last internal whimper, you began across the patio and came to the two men.

“Buenas tardes Sr. Salamanca…Señor Lalo.” You nodded to them both, but you noticed that Lalo simply refused to take his glittering eyes off you- mirth swimming in them.

“Beautiful day, no?” He beamed mischievously, gesturing to the cloudless blue sky.

His charm was still very much in place, and you counted that as a good start, but you knew his mood could change on a dime.

You looked out at the saturated sky, “It is. You seem to be in an extra good mood today, Señor.” You said, then bent down to Hector to gently ask him if he was comfortable or needed water. He didn’t ding he bell, so you assumed Lalo had already done those.

“You ever see what a mouse can do in a house, niñita?” Her asked, still smiling.

You thought for a moment, “Y-yeah I have.” You said, recalling when mice got into the basement of your childhood home and ate through the Christmas decorations.

“They scurry around and get into everything but you never fucking see them. Fast, y’know? Chew through everything…pequeños bastardos destructivos…” he chuckled and shook his head, “I have a…very strong sense that there is a little mouse…right here in this city.” Lalo leaned forward on the table- his forearms flexing. “Causing some serious damage too.” His gaze was heavy and intense. You found yourself starting to feel afraid, but you did your best to keep it at bay.

“A- a mouse, señor?” You asked.

He hummed, “You know what the thing about mice is though, niñita?”

You tentatively shook your head.

“They make tremendous pets.” He grinned.

“I-I suppose you’re right.” You hoped your skin blanching wasn’t as visible as it felt.

Lalo chuckled and leaned back again, and you released a breath. “Someone made a fool out of some competition of ours…their tactics reminded me of a pequeño ratón, you know?”

“Oh?” You asked as casually as you could.

“Yep.” He popped the “p”, “There’s this restaurant which, admittedly is pretty good,” he began joyfully, “And you’ll never guess what happened to it.”

You shook your head and shifted a little.

“Tell me.” You said, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Got shut down.” He said like it was a huge secret, “Yeah, something about a wiring issue. Morons,” he shook his head, “Crazy eh?”

“Yeah…who would’ve thought.” You agreed, mirroring his shock.

“Yeah. Bonkers.” His smile faded from his eyes, but remained on his lips. But there was no anger there, which you counted as a positive thing.

Silence settled over you and you started to squirm. “It’s a good thing though…isn’t it?” You couldn’t help yourself from asking. You needed to know what he thought…whether you should say your goodbyes to this world or if you could actually breathe.

Lalo smiled again. “Sí, algo muy bueno.”

Your ears started ringing as his words settled into your brain.

He wasn’t furious.

He wasn’t vengeful.

You nodded, trying not to show how relieved you were. “Well…it might be unfortunate for that business but I hope your family does well in the meantime.” You sighed as calmly as you could, and picked up an empty cup on the table- anything to hide your trembling hands. “It’s always good to see you Señor Lalo…until next time. Sr. Salamanca your nurse will come get you in twenty minutes alright? Please don’t try and make her deaf this time…” you added after having the memory of the woman yelling every time she spoke for three hours following Hector ringing his bell non stop for 15 minutes. Poor thing could barely hear.

“Adios, niñita.” Lalo murmured just loud enough for you to hear it, and you cast him one last look before you left. You were certain you would never get accustomed to his stare.

The remaining part of the day passed in a blur. Before you knew it the next shift of workers were signing in and you were signing out. The receptionist on that evening bid you goodnight, and you finally felt yourself fall back into your body.

You said a few goodbyes on your way out the door, and you absentmindedly played with your keys. You ran the day over in your head, and while you did feel relieved that Lalo wasn’t angry…you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You swore you forgot something when you had …when you had gone to the restaurant. You hadn’t had the wits to look over everything when you got home, so you were hoping it was just some remaining guilt in you still festering.

There was a light breeze that night. It crept up your spine and tickled your cheeks. You breathed it in as you climbed into your car, and you let yourself relax a little as you pulled out and drove home.

Your building came into view but just when you were climbing out, a body came right up in front of you- caging you between your door and the sidewalk.

“Hola pequeña!”

You stared up, and felt your cheeks warm at the proximity to the older man - his grey streak prominent in the golden setting sun. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps and your fingers tingled as you fought to find something to say.

You forced a small smile despite how flustered you were, “H-hello Señor.” You said softly.

“Just the person I was looking for. How lucky am I?” He smiled- one arm over the open door and the other on the roof. You were stuck.

“Oh I- r-really?” You hated that you couldn’t stop tripping over your words.

His grin only deepened, “Yeah, you know…almost as lucky as I was when a little mouse decided to meddle with that restaurant, hm?”

You stared at him, not knowing what else to do or say. Your anxiety began to creep back as you started to think that the joy he had shown in front of Hector was just an act after all.

“If you say so Señor… I hope no one was hurt.” You managed to say as his warmth and scent radiated into the air around you.

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah not this time…but I will say that whoever did it was a little nervous I think.” He said as if it was a conspiracy, tilting his head just so.

“Oh?” You asked. Not your most genious of replies but your brain was starting to turn into white noise.

Lalo nodded, and you could tell he was feigning concern; his mouth was in a frown but his eyes were filled with amusement. He was playing with you. “Yeah they left their shitty wire-cutters behind.” The older man reached into his back pocket, and you felt yourself blanch.

“I went by there you know…the day after to give my condolences on the unfortunate findings…And I just so happened to find these. Such an amazing coincidence too.” He smiled, wagging the cutters at you as he spoke.

You continued to stare, as if you moving would cause him to blow your head off; you still couldn’t tell if he was pleased by what happened, and each passing moment didn’t seem to help clarify anything.

“Coincidence?” You asked a little breathlessly.

He nodded brightly.

“Yeah, I mean don’t you have a busted pair like these in your car?” Lalo pointed the metal at your vehicle.

He knows he knows he knows he knows-

“I-I I did…been donating some things though I think they were in the last l-load I did. Haven’t seen them for weeks.” You felt your brain working overtime as you fought to find something to convince him with; you were fine with him not knowing it was you even if he was happy about it…but you weren’t leaping at the chance of telling him that it was you and him not being pleased.

But then, Lalo tsked and leaned away, “Too bad…here I was thinking I might owe you a favour. Guess not.” He shrugged and tossed them into the window you now saw was open. You didn’t remember opening it, and you realised he must have opened it when you were working to check if your wire-cutters were missing.

Then you felt your heart sink. He knew you were lying.

You sucked in a breath and shrugged.

“Even i-if it was me…you wouldn’t owe me anything.” You said, holding your ground as he towered over you.

His brows rose comically.

“No? Some say a favour from a Salamanca is as good as gold.” He rumbled. His breath fanned across your cheeks and he readjusted his hand by your head. You felt yourself almost gravitate towards it.

You nodded and tried to ignore how you couldn’t feel your fingers.

“I’m sure you’re right, señor…” you replied, “Tu tío no me odia y has sido generoso…that’s enough for me.”You watched that mirth return. An morbid amusement.

You watched something in his head click ad he pieced things together in two seconds.

“Ah, ella ha estado aprendiendo... Una chica muy lista.” He winked and wagged a finger at you as he stepped away from you and onto the street.

You might not have gotten every word…but you knew there was a little bit of pride in what he said. Like he was amused by you learning and speaking his native tongue.

“My apologies for interrupting your evening. Adiós!” He was out of your space and walking to his Monte Carlo that you somehow missed when you pulled in.

“G-goodnight, Señor.” You watched him walk. There was a certain carefree confidence to the way his arms hung by his sides. You wondered what that was like.

He drove away with a two fingered salute, and you returned the gesture with a little wave. There was a surge of turmoil coursing through you as you pried yourself away from the sidewalk. On one hand, you hoped against hope that he wasn’t buttering you up only to turn around and end your existence…and the other part of you was trying to stop the first part of you from being so naive.

You strode into your apartment like you had soggy socks- slowly and uneasily. You sat on your couch and stared at the wall.

You fell asleep that night just like every other- suddenly and not knowing that you were being watched. Not that you would ever notice. Hector’s men might now have been as intelligent and inconspicuous as Lalo’s own back home, but they did the job. Every night like clock work; they followed you home, watched your window, and stayed quiet about it. It had been months now. At first it had just been to see if you were an informant or a plant…but after a few weeks, some uneventful phone taps and 24 hour shifts later, it was clear that you were just…alone.

Lalo knew your routine better than you did. Knew that you often sat for stretches of time on your bed or couch upon getting in the door…usually not even doing anything. He knew that you only ordered a full meal from a restaurant once every two weeks. He knew that you had nightmares too- sudden crying or screaming in the night had spooked the men stationed outside your window at first…but after a few nights they got used to it. He could still remember his mother having them when he was a boy and his father would disappear for days…her cries from her room. He knew the sound all too well.

You weren’t a threat. Not really. Lalo was still trying to work out how you had managed to get under Hector’s skin…but he had a feeling that your respect for him gave him a familial sense about you. Like a niece. No…no Lalo wouldn’t get rid of you any time soon, not while you still pleased his Tio, and now apparently looked out for the cartel.

When the men had told Lalo about your late night escapade, he had indeed paid a visit to Los Pollos Hermanos…and he admittedly hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time when he found those old shitty wire cutters of yours. He knew you had spirit but he had to admit that he hadn’t expected that of you.

You were this skittish little thing , but the older man couldn’t help but feel entertained at your antics. You were juvenile and fearless despite your anxious nature. So eager to prove something.

So they watched you.

The following few nights after your impulsive crime, the men had taken to start making little bets. Would you do something else crazy? Was it a one time thing? They kept busy.

You were dull, but you were cute, and they didn’t mind.

They knew you never had visitors, so a week later, when they saw a taxi pull up, and a man get out in front of your building they didn’t perk up. They watched him enter, and lazily observed him; it wasn’t until they noticed how he loitered outside the front door until someone left and he caught the door that they looked at him a little closer.

The man disappeared inside, and they were begining to grow bored of waiting to see if anything if happened until your apartment light turned on.

They watched what they could see of you move through your apartment. One of the men had his binoculars in hand, pressed to his eyes to see more, but all he could make out was your door being flung open, and your home going black.

That was enough for them.

One of the men pulled out his phone, and pressed a speed dial, and waited as it rang.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#tony dalton #lalo salamanca #better caul sall #breaking bad #Lalo Salamanca x reader #breaking bad imagine #better call saul imagine #lalo salamanca/reader #lalo salamanca imagine #bcs fic #better call saul fanfic #tony Dalton x reader

[bettyfrommars]

For those of you who have been interested in the rewrite of Stop the World and Melt with You, my Eddie x reader series, here is a snippet I somehow blurted into my docs today. It will be a total re-imagining, one that has been cooking in my brain for a while.

I've been messing around with some titles, not sure what I will call it yet ❤️

Also, did you know that a group of ravens is called an "unkindness"? Because I did not until just a few minutes ago.

Hands sweaty on the steering wheel, you peered through the thick fog that settled around you. Where had all of the fog come from? You’d been looking for your exit, the one that would let you loop around and take the highway in the opposite direction.  For the past few hours, you’d been trying to distance yourself from the stress of work and hospital visits and bad relationships; a ten-minute drive to “clear your head” had turned into several hundred miles.  You’d blared your music, you’d cried and screamed a lot, but now your gas tank was almost empty, and your stomach was growling.  

The fog thinned for a moment, as if some giant sucked all of the air up into its massive chest cavity, and you saw that there was a person standing on the fence post, squatting down to stare into your eyes as you passed.  He stood to full height and a flock of ravens scattered to the sky as if they’d burst from under his arms.

The wind took the ends of his long dark hair away from his face, allowing you to see how beautiful he was.  His long black coat that flew out behind him, showing that he was bare-chested underneath, with a patchwork of tattoos inked across his flesh.  You locked eyes without blinking for what felt like eternity before the fog embraced you once again and you could no longer see him.  Not even after you slowed to a crawl and checked your rearview mirror. 

You craned your neck, wondering if maybe he’d been a trick of your imagination.  

When you brought your attention forward, there he was right in the middle of the road, standing a few car lengths away, legs braced wide.  From out of nowhere, a raven landed on his shoulder and settled there.

You slammed your brakes on and shrieked, skidding to a halt.  Your bumper landing mere inches from his legs.  

Chest heaving, body flushed with adrenaline, you stared in awe at him, the way he tucked his chin to pin his stare on you in a curious yet somehow accusatory way.

The standoff lasted for a full minute before he shouted over the sound of your engine.  “You must be lost,” he said.  

#wips up to my chin #but I love it #stwmwy #Eddie Munson fic

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 7 - Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

Coping with the new development of wings, Y/N must hide her secret from the Winchesters, but the veil falls during training when things get heated with Dean.

(2.2k)

TW: This chapter has to do with binding wings that may be viewed as similar to chest binding. If you practice chest binding, please do so safely my friends. <3

Call (1 - 866 - 488 - 7386) or visit TheTrevorProject.org for more resources.

“Disgusting.” I mutter under my breath, gazing at my back, topless in the mirror. 

The little protrusions between my shoulder blades have doubled in size since the morning light just hours ago. Reaching nearly 6 inches in length, they adorn sporadic white feathers with a golden glamor sprouting from the bone. They look frail and weak, like the feathers of a baby bird, but without a doubt, they were undeniably the early stages of wing growth. 

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I'm unable to control the rush of emotions, frustration, sadness, disgust tearing me apart from the inside out. 

This is wrong. This is all so wrong! Why me? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS!

My thoughts run a thousand miles per hour, clattering around in my brain. However, the sound of knocking on the bathroom door quickly pulls me out of my head. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Sam’s sweet muffled voice comes through the other side of the door.

“Yeah, uh, just a minute,” I reply in a panicked tone, picking up my flannel from the floor and wrapping it around my body. Unsurprisingly, the flannel did little to disguise the problem,  the fabric stretching and poking out awkwardly around the appendages. 

Great. The last thing I need right now is the Winchesters to see the freak show that is my newly sprouted wings.

“Dean and I wanna talk to you when you have a minute.”

“Sure thing!” I put on a fake chirpy voice, immediately cringing at how fake it sounds. I can practically feel Sam purse his lips and furrow his brow in reaction to my odd tone on the other side of the door.

“Right,” Sam clears his throat. His footsteps fade in the distance as he walks away. 

I let out a sigh of relief that doesn’t last long as I remember the problem at hand. There must be something in this bathroom I can use to conceal my little problem. I stumble over to the white cabinet on the wall that hangs just above the sink and fling the door open. The cabinet is practically barren with the exception of a half empty bottle of over the counter pain medication and a small plastic container with the words, FIRST AID, scribbled on it in sharpie. 

“Of course.” I say through gritted teeth, swiping the kit and slamming the cabinet shut. The flimsy white plastic cracks open under my touch, the contents spilling on the floor with a clatter. I drop to my knees, paying little mind to the bruise that will likely form from the impact, and rummage through the supplies around me. Gause, scissors, bandaids, needle, thread, and, “Hah!” I proudly exclaim as I grab the medical wrap from the pile.

Pushing myself up onto my feet and in front of the bathroom mirror, I unravel the tape and begin wrapping it around my wings. I struggle as they resist and flutter against the fabric. If they would just hold still, the process would go alot faster, and time is certainly of the essence. I bite my lip, swallowing down the pain from my sensitive wings crunching under the tape, painfully immobilized. After several wraps, I was finally satisfied and tore off the end of the bandage with my teeth, tucking it securely away. Although it wasn’t perfect, they were successfully binded flat against my back.

I pull my flannel back on, buttoning it all the way up and turn to the side to admire my work in the mirror. It’s still rather lumpy in the back, but not very noticeable unless you really squint.

I take a deep breath, regulating my emotions, wiping away the tears, and putting on my best poker face. I exit the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

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

Sam and Dean sit in the library, each lost in their own worlds.

 Sam, lounging in a chair, thumbing through the pages of an old biblical book. 

Dean sits on the table, a leg resting on the arm of Sam's chair as he repeatedly sharpens a long silver blade.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, grabbing their attention. I fold my hands behind my back, slowly rocking back and forth from the pads to the heels of my feet, trying to calm my nerves.

“Well, we’ve been talking it over and we think it’s best to give you some training. You need to be prepared for what’s to come.” Sam gives a reassuring smile.

“Kick the devil's ass and send him back to his maker,” Dean chuckles, playfully pointing the blade in my direction.

“Oh.” I scratch the back of my neck, conflicted at the idea of assassinating the man I have developed mixed feelings for, but also excited to learn some self defense. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, Sammy here can teach you how to exorcize demons. You can bet your ass there will be dozens guarding Lucifer. And me? I’m gonna teach you how to gank that feathery son of a bitch.” He turns the blade in his hand and plunges it into the wood of the table. It wobbles slightly before falling perfectly still.

“Okay...” Is all I can say as I struggle to process the information. 

I have no problem with exorcizing demons, the less that crawls this earth, the better. But Lucifer? Sure, I hate his guts for completely uprooting my life and turning me into some hybrid angel freak, but do I really want him dead?

The brothers give me an odd look, clearly expecting a different kind of response.

“So, where do we start?” I smile, trying to save the awkward interaction.

“I figure we start with some simple exorcism incantations.” Sam jumps up from his seat, rummaging in his jeans pocket for a folded piece of scrap paper. “This is your study guide.” He hands the slip to me.

I unfold it and written in neat handwriting is a series of Latin words. Beneath each word is the phonetic pronunciation, which is quite helpful considering I don’t know the first thing about reading Latin. I stare at the hefty paragraph, feeling rather intimidated.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna help you,” he reassures me.

I give him a polite nod and a quick smile, trying my best to stow away my doubt.

“Repeat after me, Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he says, slow and clear, making sure to over pronounce each syllable. 

“Exorcizamu… Exorcizamus te omnis immu… Immundus spiritus,” I repeat, butchering almost every word. I stare at the paper, replaying each word over and over in my head til it sticks. “ Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” I say with confidence, smiling at my correct pronunciation.

“Excellent!” He smiles, squeezing my arm with pride.

For nearly 2 hours, Sam and I read through the incantation over a dozen times until I have the pronunciation of every word down to a T. Although my brain feels fried, I can’t help but glow with pride at my improvement and Sam's relentless praises.

“Alright, I think you deserve a break for today, but I want you to practice this as much as you can. This is very important,” Sam says, clasping his hands together.

“You got it big guy,” I reply playfully.

 He gives me a disapproving look at the nickname, but smiles as he turns his head and walks away.

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

“Alright sweetheart, you ready for some real training?” Dean says gleefully, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Born ready,” I reply with a grin, looking around the training room he had led me to.

 The walls and floor are covered in thick black padding, the fabric worn and torn in certain places. Scattered throughout the room are half a dozen training dummies, many of them riddled with stab wounds and bullet holes. An array of weights and weapons are displayed along benches and tables in an orderly fashion.

He picks up the largest blade from the table and strolls over til he’s about a foot from in front of me. 

“This here is an angel blade.” He turns the long dagger in his hands, the light dazzling off the reflective metal. “This is the only thing that can kill an angel.” He looks me in the eyes, very serious this time.

My eyes fall from his to the angel blade in his calloused hands. Anxiety and doubt plague my mind, but I swallow down my emotions and nod in understanding.

He flips the blade with ease, passing it to me with the handle end exposed. 

I take it from his grasp, the metal still warm from his body heat. It feels heavy and powerful in my hand. I’ve carried a pocket knife with me for years in self defense, having only had to use it once when some drunk guy at a bar followed me to my car, but nothing compared to a weapon like this. 

He steps behind me and wraps his hand around mine, moving my fingers to the correct placement. “Your grip on the handle is very important.” He gives my hand a light squeeze. “These fingers need to be wrapped around one side of the handle and your thumb should be pressed against the other side,” he explains. “Grip it tight.”

I do as I'm told, feeling my grip strengthen, pleasantly surprised at the difference.

“Good,” he praises. 

I can feel his warm breath on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. He guides me to the dummy in front of us, stopping when we're all but 6 inches away.

“Now, I’m gonna teach you how to wield it, okay?” He says in a deep voice. 

“Yes, Dean,” I reply in a hushed tone. Butterflies flutter around my stomach.

He steps closer, til he’s barely an inch behind me. He wraps his warm hands around mine and I can’t help but close my eyes and relish the feeling.

“Okay, you’re gonna bring your arm back to your side, bending the elbow,” he says, pulling my arm back. 

We stay there for a minute, just savoring the moment. The tension in the room is thick, but far from unpleasant.

“Now you’re gonna use the momentum of your body to push it forward.” 

Following his directions, I force the blade forward in one swift movement.

“Straighten your elbow sweetheart,” he purrs in my ear. 

I briefly close my eyes, trying to fight the heat rising in my body, and do as he says. The sound of the blade cutting through the air breaks the silence.

“Good job,” he praises. “Okay, when you’re attacking, you’re going to want to aim right here.” He points his finger to a spot on the dummy just below the sternum, where the vital organs are most exposed.

I nod, focusing on each of his words. 

He guides my hand back, then up, just as we practiced, plunging the blade right under the rib cage until it’s buried deep inside. 

I can’t hold back the gasp that falls from my lips.

“Good, very good!” He spins me around to face him. “See you’re a natural,” he chuckles. “A little more practice with me and you’ll be a pro,” Dean winks.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” I blush with a smile.

He thoughtfully tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes flicking back and forth between my own adoring eyes and my lips.

 I can’t help but return his interest. 

He leans in close, pressing his forehead to mine. 

My heart swells, as my pulse quickens. I hold my breath, waiting for his next move.

He leans in and ever so slightly presses his lips to mine, silently asking for my permission.

I close my eyes and lean in, claiming his lips with mine. 

Our lips move together in harmony like they are made for eachother. The kiss is soft and loving, as if we are just testing the waters, and my god it just feels so right. 

I sigh with content into his mouth as he places his hand on the small of my back, pulling our bodies together. I feel lost in the moment, wishing it would never end as his hands slowly travel up further until it reaches my bandaged wings poorly disguised under my flannel. 

He pulls back slightly, now looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern.

My eyes shoot open and my breath hitches in my throat as I realize what’s happening. The euphoric high of finally kissing Dean fades and the horror of his discovery, sits in my stomach like a ball of lead.

“Wha-,” he starts to ask.

Before he can utter the word, I forcefully push him away and rush out of the room. The world becomes muddy as my eyes blur with hot tears. I run and run until I reach my quarters and throw myself into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I toss the angel blade aside, not even registering the loud clatter of metal meeting tiles and sink to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest, not even bothering to fight the sobs that rack my body.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #lucifer supernatural #lucifer x reader supernatural #lucifer #lucifer x reader #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #supernatural #slow burn #love triangle

[elexuscal]

Network Effect, but it happens immediately on the tail end of Exit Strategy

this is one of the funniest fandom AUs out there, imo. (also one of the saddest! but also like. in a fun way)

Mensah, Pin-Lee, Gurathin, and Ratthi are just SO glad to be home soon

they're also really glad that SecUnit seems to have regained the ability to talk

even if like, only 40% of what it says seems to logically follow whatever conversation they were having

like that sounds like a dig but they seriously have spent the last 2 weeks thinking its brain might have been totally fried

so they get in a shuttle to go back to the station when

mysterious ship appears out of nowhere?

YOINKS them

murderbot is like 'hey that's my friend wtf ART'

"what do you mean," its humans ask

it Does Not Clarify

maybe just says like a random stream of code, aloud. completely impossible to parse

i'd like to remind everyone that Dr. Ayda Mensah has some Severe Kidnapping Trauma that has not managed to start unpacking at all at this point. and now she's been kidnapped. again.

at least her friends are along for the ride this time???

(she feels awful for being this relieved)

ship is totally empty when they get on board

except for creepy grey people

SecUnit started being able to walk around its MedBay like 47 hours ago

it was not pretty. it fell on its face like. 3 separate times.

now it has to kill a bunch of targets

it still manages it but not with anywhere NEAR its usual level of grace

this just makes it more angry

it does not help that it keeps forgetting where it's in its own timeline

keeps pinging ART. keeps being surprised when it doesn't answer. all over again.

the humans are the ones doing the majority of the Smart Detective Work and making theories on What's Happening Here and interrogating Ras and Eletra

Ras and Eletra who, by the way, are like 'hey your SecUnit is seriously glitching you should probably put it down.'

'no'

'okay we can at least turn it off and shove it in one of the mortuary tubes-'

"NO"

"yeesh okay we're just giving a suggestion" [Eletra and Ras exchange a 'get a load of these crazy freeholders' look behind their backs]

MB is currently have a conversation, aloud, to a crumpled drone

good news: being in a familiar environment is helping MB's memory retrieval

bad news: those memories are letting MB know something Is Very Very wrong

1-3 emotional breakdowns happen during this point. One of them is definitely Murderbot's

it's even worse than in canon Network Effect

"My friend is DEAD"

they haven't found ANY dead bodies at this point, though, so...

PresAux starts realising maybe the dead friend is... an AI?

Ras's brain gets fried around this point. Then Ratthi, as the closest thing the team has to a doctor, has to cut Eletra's chip out of her neck. so he probably gets one of those emotional breakdowns.

'wtf how did we get out of a wormhole so fast??'

In this time-line, Murderbot is in no state to fight AND do complex coding attacks at the same time

(it's really in no state to be doing even one of these by the way but oh well)

that mean Pin-Lee and Gurathin are absolutely doing the majority of fighting off TargetControlSys

and then MB gets that delayed datapackage from ART

"For Eden? what the fuck does that mean?"

is it a religious message? a code?

"hey isn't there a character named that in Sanctuary Moon?" asks Ratthi

MB might be in a pitched firefight at the time but that is no reason for it to not ramble about its blorbos and how cool Eden is

Mensah starts getting an idea

They find ART's secret coding bundle

they try putting in 'Eden'. doesn't work.

okay that was too obvious. try 'Sanctuary Moon'.

nope

'SecUnit'? no

'Murderbot'? long shot but... no

since they have a copy of MB's purchase contract, they have its feed address documented. it's a real long shot, but they are desperate at this point. they try it

Re-Load in Progress. Please stand-bye.

i honestly have NO idea what MB says when ART comes online this time

maybe something super sweet and sappy. or maybe it's even less coherent than in canon

either way, the humans are like 'Holy Shit' upon realising who/what Murderbot's friend ART really is

#murderbot diaries #murderbot #network effect

[patchwork-panda]

Morning Coffee

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44421046

You awake to the sound of loud, intermittent buzzing, the vibrations stabbing deep into your skull. It pulsates almost painfully inside your brain, loosening the bonds of sleep, severing you from it in a sharp, unpleasant way.

You open your eyes to see a thin sliver of pale light peeking out between a pair of long, drawn curtains. It’s still dark–surprisingly so–and it takes you a moment to recognize the outlines of your bed.

Groaning heavily, you roll onto your side, towards the source of the noise.

The blinking red numbers on your digital alarm clock, still buzzing incessantly, read: "5:00 am."

That’s right.

You had a morning shift today. A week ago, you’d chosen to swap out with a coworker to do yours now instead of next week, so that you would be free to stay up a little later on the night of your anniversary.

It was a choice you’d made voluntarily, knowing it would be difficult but worth it in the end…

But that didn't mean you wouldn't drag your feet every step of the way.

You groan, squeeze your eyes shut and fold your pillow over your face.

"Hey..."

The voice next to you is nothing more than a low rumble, gruff and thick with sleep… 

And yet just the sound of it makes this whole ordeal a little easier to bear.

An arm–warm and heavy–is thrown over your upper body.

Kunikida Doppo, your beloved husband of the past few years, pulls himself up behind you. You can tell from the slight tensing of his arm that he's giving you a hug and you relax against his body as he pulls you in close.

"Your alarm is going off," he mumbles, unfolding the pillow from over your face. "You should get up and turn it off."

"Turn it off for me," you moan, not caring that you sound really childish when you're sleepy and grumpy.

"Don't you have work early this morning?”

“Maybe.”

You feel him shifting behind you as the bed suddenly sinks. The alarm abruptly stops mid-screech and the deepest, sweetest silence settles into the room.

You sigh and relax but your husband does not.

"How long are you planning on lying there?"

His question is direct but not unkind. Eyes still shut, you reach blindly for the pillow behind you–to fold back over your face–but there’s nothing there.

Instead, a large hand catches onto yours and you turn as Kunikida’s long fingers interlace with yours.

Even in the subtle darkness of the predawn hour, his features look so elegant. You love the way his eyes look, both with and without his glasses, his gaze so observant and intelligent, and yet so gentle.

Your own gaze, somewhat unfocused from sleep, travel from his eyes to his lips, slightly parted and all but beckoning you for a kiss. Strands of long, blonde hair trail down over his bare shoulder, broad and well-muscled and thinly latticed with scars.

His bangs are sticking up on one side, mussed from sleep and you crack a smile as you reach up to smooth them back.

“Well?” he asks, his gray eyes meeting yours.

“As long as I feel like,” you mumble, to which he lets out a low chuckle.

"My wife…” he whispers, “my ‘ideal woman…’ isn't the kind of person who would sleep in and miss an important day of work like this."

There’s a teasing lilt mixed in along with the hint of pride in his voice and you can see the affection in his eyes as he looks at you.

"Your ideal woman?” you slur. “Don't know her."

Kunikida laughs.

“Alright.”

Still smiling in amusement, he presses a quick kiss to your fingertips.

“I know what will get you up.”

The mattress beneath you abruptly shifts. A puff of cold air wafts against your back as Kunikida lifts the covers and exits his side of the bed.

You look up at the open door as he disappears beyond it, his long, thinly tangled hair following after him like an afterimage.

Yawning slightly, you sit up a little and stretch, rubbing your eyes as another familiar sound, much more pleasant than your alarm, reaches your ears.

He’s grinding coffee beans.

Still groggy, you blink the sleep from your eyes as you hear him shuffling about the kitchen.

There’s the sound of running water: the electric kettle filling. A few beeps and you can hear it starting up, water slowly boiling.

Rubbing your eyes one last time, you lift the covers and swing your legs out from beneath them, your feet naturally sliding into the slippers you always leave beside the bed.

You arrive in the kitchen just as Kunikida takes the beeping kettle off its stand, the sound like a weak echo of your alarm from before.

Wordlessly, you sit down at the table, admiring the sight of your husband making you coffee. He’s still shirtless and your gaze travels from his chest to his shoulders, then catching on the way his biceps tense as he pours water from the goose-necked kettle.

He’s doing this for your benefit; you can tell from the way his gaze briefly darts towards you, a shadow of a smirk gracing his features before he returns to the task at hand.

“How do you want your coffee today?” he asks, as the most heavenly aroma fills the room.

“Just a little milk today, thanks.”

“Alright.”

He turns and goes to the fridge, letting the hot water settle into the grounds. While he busies himself in the corner, you watch quietly as the coffee slowly drips into the glass jug. It smells earthy, like dark chocolate and nuts and you close your eyes and inhale, feeling more awake already.

You sit up at the table as Kunikida sets a mug down in front of you, a glass jigger in his other hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Measuring.”

You can’t help but grin as you watch him pick up the milk carton and pour into the tiny glass.

“If it’s something worth doing, it’s worth doing well,” he explains, pouring the milk into your mug just as the last of the coffee goes through the filter. “Can’t have my wife drinking subpar coffee.”

“Is perfect coffee now one of your ideals?” you tease as Kunikida picks up the jug full of coffee. “You didn’t even drink this brand until I introduced it to you.”

“And I appreciate that you did.”

He finishes making your coffee and pours himself a mug.

“Who would’ve guessed that a cup of coffee a day promotes longevity?”

He takes a sip.

“But while I’m aware of what the studies say…”

He looks at you.

“You *are* aware there can be too much of a good thing?”

“I am,” you tell him. “And I appreciate that you are aware as well.”

You take a nice, long sip, savoring the flavor of your favorite blend as Kunikida watches you, his gray eyes warm.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

“Much.”

You put down your mug and smile.

“Thank you, Doppo. For making me coffee and for always being so concerned about my well-being.”

You reach out to take his hand.

“You are truly the ideal husband.”

“Th-there’s no need to take it that far.”

You giggle as he abruptly looks away, his face going pink. Even after all this time, he still reacts in such an endearing way.

“But thank you for saying so.”

“Of course!”

You grin and take another sip of coffee. Somehow, it tastes even better than before.

“Even if there is no coffee, I’ll always be happy to wake up to you.”

“Likewise.”

You finish your coffee as he squeezes your hand.

“I’m going to get dressed. I’ll see you after work?”

“I’ll pick you up from the station,” he says as you disappear back into the bedroom. “We can have an early dinner too, if you’re hungry.”

“Sure.”

You emerge a moment later, fully dressed, and head to the door to put on your shoes. Setting his mug down, Kunikida follows you and helps you into your jacket.

“Have a good day, my love,” he whispers before leaning in for a kiss.

“You, too.”

You smile.

“See you later.”

#bsd x reader #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #fluff #sfw #coffee #doppo kunikida x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

[cyggiestardust]

The fact that I only had the one PDF when I thought I had more is probably a sign I need to go to bed.

I mean I just finished a 196 page book on the subject in an hour and a half.

I'm exhausted and have been crying off and on for about 3 hours.

I absolutely want to die.

Every safety net I've ever had has failed me.

I actively regret surviving my anaphylaxis episodes on a regular basis. I know everyone would be better off if I was outta here, if they'd never met me.

I've only ever brought chaos.

I just want to go to sleep and not wake up, painlessly, discover my body has allowed me to Exit, to go home at last. I've fucked up too much shit, fucked up too many people's lives. I'm bullheaded and difficult to be with.

There are several ways in here I could take myself out. I'm trying not to do any of them.

There are several ways here I could take the edge off. The athame on my altar, still wrapped in the cloth I put it in the day after I used it to violently slash tally lines in my left leg. I realized I keep my blades pretty sharp when I noticed one slash had actually taken a tiny piece off my shin. (It healed fine.) I am actively trying not to even get near it while my brain is like this.

There is a bent paperclip that could really satisfy the need for the specific type of pain that always helped in high school, where I had to hide evidence of my self harming by using something that was sharp, but left at most shallow, skinny welts as evidence, and hid them under my socks because while my family didn't give a fuck about it, my guidance counselor would, and then I would have to remind them about the futility of calling CPS because they would all put on their perfect act to get them out of the house as fast as possible so they could initiate a joint ass-whipping—usually like 3 against me, completely overkill even when you forget that adults shouldn't be hitting kids in the first place.

I have One Sharp Nail that could be useful, but it could break.

I want the life I missed.

I want to know how I WOULD have turned out.

I remember once as a teenager I BEGGED for therapy. I was miserable. I got my ass beat and was told therapy was white people shit and I needed to stop trying to get attention.

And I want to grab every mental health professional I've ever had by the shoulders and shake them violently because they missed so much.

I could have been free years ago. Instead I'm broken.

#tw sui ideation #tw self harm ref #tw abuse mention

[searidings]

this is what happens when @ekingston and i get our hands on the prompt “that's my wife!” and agree that she'll draw my idea for it and i'll write hers (aka hearing kara call it out as she watches lena being wheeled down a hospital corridor)

“Excuse me, you can't go through there!”

Kara growls. The woman blocking her path is short and gently rounded, the kind lines of her face drooping in disapproval above her nurse's scrubs. “No visitor access beyond this point, dear. Immediate family only.”

“Immediate— you're joking, right?” Kara cranes her head, peering through the closing doors to catch a last glimpse of Lena's gurney as it rounds the corner at the end of the hall. “That's my wife!”

The nurse gapes at her. “Your—?”

Kara growls again, louder. It's a good thing she'd blown out her powers twenty minutes ago, or she would not be held responsible for the Kryptonian-shaped hole in NC Memorial Hospital's expensive surgery doors. “Yes, my wi—”

Her snarl is cut off by a hand clamping down firmly over her mouth from behind. Kara's first instinct is to bite it. She resists, narrowly, as the familiar scent of shea butter moisturiser registers in her adrenaline-fogged brain.

“You sure about that?” Alex squeaks around a nervous laugh, voice pitched a half-octave too high. She removes her hand from Kara's mouth, wiping her damp palm on her pants with a wrinkled nose. “Get hit on the head during that fight, did you?”

Kara whirls on her sister, eyes blazing. “Am I sure?” she parrots incredulously. Alex cowers a little beneath the force of her stare. “Unless you're trying to tell me I hallucinated my entire wedding—”

“Supergirl isn't married,” Alex stage-whispers loud enough to be heard in Florida, glancing pointedly down at Kara's ash-caked body and oh yeah, she's still wearing her supersuit.

Right, right.

The nurse – Rosemary, her badge reads – finally picks her jaw up off the floor long enough to speak. Her eyes are wide, sparkling with sudden glee. “So Lena Luthor and Su—”

Kara's hackles rise at the suggestion in her tone. “Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers are happily married,” she interrupts sternly. “You might have seen the wedding photos in last month's Vogue.”

The nurse smirks. At her elbow, Alex drops her head into her hands.

“Kara Danvers, hm? Amazing what a pair of glasses do for you, dear.” Rosemary's brow quirks with impish satisfaction and, oh. Whoops. It would appear that in her haste to quash any potential rumours of Lena's infidelity behind the back of her very recent, very publicly human wife, she'd forgotten about the other delicate matter at hand.

Alex sighs so long and so heavy Kara legitimately marvels that she doesn't pass out from the strain. “I knew keeping a spare NDA in my back pocket would pay off,” her sister groans, thrusting an official-looking, if crumpled, contract beneath the nurse's nose.

“Sorry,” Kara murmurs sheepishly as Rosemary signs away page after page of her right to ever disclose Supergirl's identity in any capacity. “I wasn't thinking, I can't— Alex, it's Lena.”  

“I know, I know,” her sister soothes, frustration dissipating as she reaches out to pull Kara into her side, ignoring the soot and grit that smear across her jacket at the contact. “She's gonna be okay.”

“But what if she's not?” Kara asks and the sobs arrive then, the last remnants of the fight or flight response that had propelled her this far dissipating beneath the weight of her terror. “She stepped right in front of that bullet, Alex! Of all the stupid, reckless—”

“If I recall, she was pushing you back after you shoved her out of the way in the first place,” Alex hums thoughtfully. Kara's tear-filled eyes snap to her face, incredulous, and her sister grimaces. “Right, right. Not the time.”

“She has to be okay,” she gasps, clutching hard at her sister's jacket as her knees threaten to give out beneath her. “She has to, I can't— I feel like I can't breathe. Like my heart's been ripped out.”

Alex clicks her tongue in sympathy, wrapping a firm arm round Kara's waist and guiding her to a nearby row of chairs. Rosemary deposits the signed NDA wordlessly on the hard plastic beside them, reaching into her scrubs to produce a pack of tissues.

Alex accepts, extracting one to dab at Kara's snotty, tear-stained face with her free hand. “Welcome to married life, kid,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to Kara's matted hair. “It can be a real bitch.”

-

It's a long night.  

It's a long night, a night of anxious waiting and barely-restrained nausea and vending machine coffee so bad even Nia won't drink it. Her family, their family, crowd the waiting room, dozing across the rows of seats as the hours drag on and on.

Alex tries her best, at varying intervals, to force her back to the Tower for a stint under the sun lamps. Every time without fail, Kara sets her jaw, then sets her feet in the middle of the surgical wing waiting room and refuses to budge.

This leads to several arguments, and a lot of impassioned shoving.  

“What if she needs me?” Kara laments tearily, pout activated and puppy dog eyes firmly in place. Alex, mid-football tackle with her arms and right shoulder braced against Kara's torso as she attempts to use her entire bodyweight to force her sister toward the exit, only grunts with exertion. Behind them, J’onn dozes in the corner. Brainy and Kelly and Nia continue their conversation without batting an eyelid.

“No, scratch that, she does need me,” Kara corrects, unaffected by her sister's NFL-worthy body slam. “She's been shot. I'm not going anywhere.”

Alex, perhaps finally sensing defeat after her fourth unsuccessful attempt, gives one final shove with all her strength. Kara doesn't so much as wobble, and her sister releases her with a huff. “Fine. But for the love of God, change your clothes before you start shouting about your wife again,” she pants, red-faced and sweating as she collapses into a nearby chair. “That was my last NDA.”

That's a compromise she can make. Kara accepts the bundle of clothes Nia presents her with, stripping out of her dirt-caked suit and re-donning her glasses. Thankfully, the only person around to witness Kara entering the bathroom as a superhero and re-emerging as a Catco reporter is Rosemary.  

The updates on Lena's condition are sporadic at best. By the time the first surgeon emerges to say the bullet has been removed from Lena's chest cavity Kara's accidentally cracked three plastic chairs, advanced all the way to Lollipop Land on Alex's Candy Crush, and worn a groove into the waiting room linoleum with her nervous pacing.

When another doctor emerges three hours later to tell them Lena had developed a tension pneumothorax and needs additional treatment, Kara's made it to Rainbow Reef and chewed her bottom lip bloody.

When, at five in the morning, yet another doctor appears to inform them that Lena is being placed on anti-radiation medication to counter the Kryptonite that had coated the bullet, Kara's finished all nine thousand nine hundred and thirty-five levels of the damn game. The doctor leaves, promising to be back with more news soon, and Kara squeezes her sister's hand so hard poor Nurse Rosemary has to be called to administer an ice pack for the bruising, solar flare be damned.

Dawn breaks to find Kara scratchy-eyed and grumpy, worn ragged with worry. The waiting room begins to fill up around them, new patients and their relatives coming and going, and still there's nothing new on Lena. Every time another scrub-clad surgeon pushes through the doors Kara's heart skips a beat, all of them sitting up straighter in their seats, but every time the doctor passes them by.

Kara's just wolfed down six cold breakfast sandwiches procured by Brainy on his sojourn to the hospital cafeteria and is debating the relative merits of starting Candy Crush over from scratch when another young doctor appears. Her scrub cap has avocados on it. Kara likes her already.

“Family of Ms Luthor?” she calls, looking around, and Kara pushes up hard from her chair to the resounding snap of cracking plastic. Whoops.

“It's Luthor-Danvers,” she gabbles as she bounds over to the surgeon, palms sweating. No matter how many times she hears it, it never loses its thrill. “I'm, I'm her wife.”

The young doctor's features soften. “Of course. I've come to let you know that it looks like Ms Luthor-Danvers is out of the woods. She's sedated and still on an anti-radiation drip, but she's through the worst of it.” She appraises Kara, gaze lingering on her chewed-raw lips and clenching fingers, then leans closer conspiratorially. “It's not general visiting hours yet, but you can see her, if you'd like.”

“Yes!” Kara's shouting almost before the surgeon has finished speaking. “Yes, please, yes.”

She hugs them all, Alex and Brainy and Nia and Kelly and J’onn, and leaves them in the waiting room as she follows the doctor's sunshine-yellow crocs down the hall.

They round corner after corner, an interminable maze. Powerless as she is, she can't hear Lena’s heartbeat, and the absence of the steady beat that has become the soundtrack to her existence sets her even more on edge.  

But at last they turn a corner, and there she is. She's pale and bandaged and her eyes are closed, creamy skin streaked with dirt and bruises, but she's there, she's alive, she's Lena.  

The surgeon holds the door open for her with a smile and Kara's across the room in a heartbeat, smoothing a hand over Lena's warm cheek and pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead and hair.  

“I love you, I love you,” she whisper-cries against Lena's temple, tucking her matted curls behind her ears. The smell of blood and dirt and antiseptic is almost overwhelming, but beneath the dust and debris caught up in her hair Lena's scalp smells the same as always. Kara presses her face to the crown of her head and inhales deeply, soaking it in.  

“Why'd you have to be so damn brave?” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against silky softness. “I love you so much. Please don't step in front of any more bullets. Please learn to be a coward, occasionally.”

The singular relief of having Lena living and breathing and in her arms again is so complete, so compounded by the fear and the adrenaline and the sleepless night and the solar flare, that she feels suddenly that she may crumple to the ground from the force of it all.

Unwilling to relinquish her hold for even a second she appraises the bandages covering Lena's right side, then crawls onto the hospital bed on her left, careful to avoid her many wires and monitors. She tucks herself in beside her on the wide mattress, chin hooked over Lena's shoulder and face pressed to the side of her neck, and lets the tears that haven't really stopped falling since that bullet had left its chamber fall for just a little longer.

Nothing matters outside of the two of them, outside of the warmth of Lena's body and the softness of her skin beneath Kara's lips and the steady thud of her heart beneath Kara's palm. Nothing else in the world exists, so when an unfamiliar male voice sounds from the doorway it takes her a moment to register the intrusion.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you really can't be on the bed with her,” the strange, disembodied voice calls from behind her and Kara frowns tiredly, unable and unwilling to acknowledge anything outside of the woman in her arms.

But before she's even managed to raise her head another voice sounds, the soft tones of a young surgeon in an avocado scrub cap.  

“Oh, honestly, Peter,” the kindly doctor says with gentle reproach, a quiet calm washing over the room as the door is pulled closed and she and Lena are left alone. “Leave them be. That's her wife.”

#check out easter's incredible art! as usual she absolutely nailed it #in my humble opinion you can simply never have too many 'that's my wife!' concepts in the world #it just never gets old #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl

[aries-writingblog]

Brave Enough

Summary: Bucky wonders if he’ll ever be brave enough to admit his feelings to you

Words Count: 1980- ish (I got a little carried away- sorry!!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, characters engaging of age drinking

A/N: gif is not my own, credit to original creator. Happy reading!!

“Bucky, lighten up, man.” Steve griped, flicking through the menu. The brunette didn’t respond, just slumping down lower in his chair and sulking even more. A deep frown etched onto his features. “It’s just a couple hours.”

“Whatever.” He snipped. Bucky could feel his teeth grit together, his jaw aching from pressure. Sam’s foot connected with his under the table, a teasing tilt to his eyebrows.

“He’s just mad that he has to be here instead of lurking ‘round in the shadows back home.” Sam nudged his foot again. Bucky kicked out, but Sam was too quick. Pulling his foot away just in time. “You ever catch him at like three in the morning, just standing around in a dark hallway?”

“Shut up.” Bucky hissed, snatching a spoon from his place setting. The utensil flew across the table, smacking Sam in the chest before falling to his lap. “And I’m not mad I have to be here.”

He truly wasn’t upset he had to be there. He was upset that one person in particular wouldn’t be in attendance. YN was still off on a mission, unfortunately missing Wanda’s birthday dinner. Without her, Bucky would just spend the whole night sulking, no one else treated him the way she did. No one else was her. Without her, his night was already marked as uneventful and boring.

“You are.” Steve corrected, glancing to his watch. “The girls should be here by now. What’s holding them?”

Bucky glanced around the restaurant, eyes scanning over Tony who was animatedly speaking with the owner. Bruce, retuning from the restroom, Peter following him with a million questions. The older man seemed to age further as the teen pestered him- asking questions ranging from science to personal. The kid could be slightly invasive at times.

The door opened- the other half of their party. The birthday girl. Wanda made her way across the room, Natasha behind her and…

“YN.” Bucky felt a weight lift from his chest- possibly his reluctance to be at the table. He watched as she gave him a small smile and wave before Wanda pulled her off to the bathroom.

“Save me a seat!” YN called, meeting Bucky’s eyes. His eyes followed her all the way, until he could no longer see her. Then he was brought back into reality by a cough.

Fuck- he did that in public. His eyes fell to Steve and Sam, their faces schooled into expressions of taunting delight.

“You gonna save her a seat or what?” Steve asked, lips twitching as they begged to smile. Bucky flicked his wrist, giving his friend a very classy middle finger as they snickered in response.

But Bucky did as she said. He unfolded the napkin at the place mat on his right, showing someone was going to sit there. Then he tucked his hands into his lap, waiting anxiously for her return. Sam pursed his lips, leaning his elbows on the table. Bucky groaned, regretting his decision to stay out when Sam sat across from him.

“Won’t you just tell her you’re in love? It would be a lot easier.” He advised, fingers laced under his jaw. Bucky scowled, his foot finally catching Sam off guard, foot connecting with his shin bone. The man cursed, jerking his chair back.

The bathroom door opened, the trio of women hustling toward the table. Natasha was shoving YN playfully, the woman responding with a laugh. Then she turned her eyes to him and he stopped breathing. Stopped living. Oxygen leaving his lungs at an exponential rate when she smiled. Teeth flashing.

“Got a seat for me, Barnes?” She asked- the sound of her voice snapping his consciousness back into the present. Bucky stumbled over himself clumsily, shoving his own chair back to pull hers out for her. “Thank you.” He pushed her back in before taking his own.

“I thought you were still in Arizona?” He kept a constant tab in his brain to focus. There had been several occasions when the pair were carrying a conversation and he noticed, too late, he had just been staring into her eyes. He didn’t mean to- it just happened.

“Just landed. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner I was back- Wanda begged me to come tonight so I had to rush to get dressed.” She explained, giving a half hearted gesture to her clothes. Bucky saw nothing wrong with them- she looked beautiful as always.

“No worries. You look beautiful anyways.” Bucky smiled. He could see in the corner of his eye- Sam and Steve sharing a look across the table. Bucky always experienced these mood swings around YN.

If he was distraught, she was there to soothe him. If he was annoyed or angry, just seeing her face would brighten his day. If he was happy, which wasn’t too often without her being a catalyst, she only intensified that feeling.

Bucky had met YN three months into his stay at the Tower. They shared a wall- his apartment was the one beside hers. He didn’t know she was his neighbor the night she came stumbling home from a mission- exhausted and dirty. Dried blood on her hairline and a red path dripping from her nose. She didn’t notice him that night as he sat in the quiet common area of floor 48. She brushed past him and dug into the fridge. He watched her shove six slices of cold pizza onto a plate and snatch three beers before disappearing into her apartment.

Needless to say, he was intrigued. But he never spoke to her. Not until two months later, in the middle of the night. She happened upon him sitting in the quiet, wide awake and writing in his journal. She commented that she also journaled- sprinting back to her bedroom to bring back a leather bound journal covered in stickers. She then offered him some of his own stickers, pressing them to the black journal in his hands.

Four months of midnight meetings passed and Bucky was infatuated. He found himself wanting to speak to her all the time- going out of his way to find her and talk. Thinking of her all the time, linking an activity with her. Asking himself ‘I wonder what YN would think of…’ Sitting with her at meals, hanging out when she was home. If he could, Bucky would have her attached to his hip at all times.

When they were together, Bucky would go to any lengths necessary to keep her there longer. To take more of her time. For once in his life, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted her complete and undivided attention. Most times, he received it. She happily gave into him, pouring affection onto the super soldier. And he swam in it- unabashedly. Unashamed to be so intoxicated around her.

“Hey, what are you ordering?” YN whispered, leaning toward his

Bucky snapped back, again, noticing that everyone had taken a seat and began to order their meals. Her eyes were trained on him expectantly. YN had seen him lose focus and attempted to reel him back in. He always seemed to fade away, she noticed. She didn’t know where his mind went when it happened but she was a pessimist- she assumed the worst.

“Me- ordering?” Bucky stuttered, his tongue barely catching up with his mind. He winced as she gave a soft smile- another snicker coming from across the table. He shot a glance over to Sam, the biting glare garnered a snarky reply.

“Smooth.” Sam muttered, propping his menu in front his face, shielding it from Bucky’s wrath.

“Sam.” Steve scolded lightly, voice low. Bucky bit back his embarrassment, clearing his throat before responding. It was gonna be a long night.

~~~~~~

YN giggled again, swaying as Bucky latched an arm around her waist. Keeping her upright. It was a struggle- she was very touchy when she was tipsy. Bucky’s heart did jumping jacks, unsure if he should revel in the affection or be disappointed she was doing it while drunk.

“Oh- Bucky, what if we took Four Loko’s and, and… White Claws!” Her fingers wiggled as she spoke, eyes watery and wide. Bucky chuckled, his body unaccustomed to the motions.

“No more alcohol for you tonight, alright? You’re already gonna hate me in the morning for letting you drink so much.” He tugged her waist gently, allowing his fingers to rest on her hip. YN rested her head against his chest as the elevator slowed to a stop on their floor.

“I could never hate you, you know that, right?” She asked, eyes gazing up at him. Bucky heaved a gentle sigh, meeting her eyes. A soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The pair slowly exited the elevator, YN trying her best to break away from his grip. Her attention span was that of a mouse- hands reaching for things in the hallways and in the common area. Finally, they reached the set of doors belonging to them. He released her very carefully to dig through his pockets. YN had given him her spare key months ago, he had it on his key ring. She had it printed in a bright blue- the loudest color on the ring when compared to the black key of his motorcycle and the silver key of his apartment.

He didn’t really need the color distinction. There were only three keys there but hers was the most important one. He had it memorized the day she gave it to him.

“Hey Friday, unlock Bucky’s main door.”

“What? She can do that?” Bucky whipped around, catching a fleeting glimpse of her wobbling, unsteady body as she stumbled into his apartment. “Fuck.”

Bucky abandoned his task in favor of the new, more important task. Getting YN out of his apartment. He followed her at a quick pace, hand outstretched to snatch her wrist but she made an abrupt turn down his hallway. Toward his bedroom.

“YN!” He hissed, reaching for her again. She shoved the door open and made her way into the room. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see your apartment- you never let me in here when we hang out.” She murmured, eyes locking in on the bookshelf in the corner. She made a beeline to it, fingers tracing over the spines of the books. She reached for a book on the second shelf. The second shelf was dedicated to his old journals.

“Okay, maybe…” he gingerly broke her grasp on the book before she could open it, sliding it back into place. Bucky rested his hands on her shoulders, steering her out of the room. “We can do a tour when you’re a little more sober.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her there- Bucky wanted to show her everything, give her everything. But some part of himself kept pushing it all back, keeping her in the light. He didn’t want her to see the bad parts, and there were plenty. He was terrified she wouldn’t want his broken pieces if she saw them.

YN hummed, breaking from his grasp again. He sighed in defeat, letting her go. She tossed her phone to the rug and flopped face first into the bed. A sigh of content rushed from her lips as she snuggled deeper into the blankets.

“Your bed is sooo comfy…” Her voice was muffled by the thick comforter. “This isn’t fair- my bed isn’t this comfy.”

No one’s slept in it since it was purchased- Bucky but back the comment, deciding it wasn’t a good topic to broach. Considering the circumstances. He stood, watching her for a moment. Allowing her to take control for the time being. The smile from earlier began to creep onto his face as she snuggled deeper into the sheets- fully clothed.

“Alright- enough of that, YN. Let’s get you home.” He murmured, tugging on her ankle. She didn’t budge. Bucky stopped, looking up to her face. She was sound asleep. “YN?”

Nothing.

Bucky sighed.

He reached for her ankle again, unclipping the heels from her feet, allowing them to fall to the floor. He swung her legs around, tugging the blankets down on the bed. Bucky pulled them back over her body, reaching into her hair to pull it out of the tight bun she had it in. The hair tie around his wrist as he tucked her in.

“Goodnight, YN.” He whispered softly. Bucky hesitated, lips close to her temple. He could hear a faint snore coming from her throat, dark lashes resting against her cheekbones.

He allowed himself to carefully lean forward, lips pressing to her temple gently. Then he backed away quietly, turning the lights off as he exited. He couldn’t help himself- stealing another glance at her sleeping figure before closing the door. He also couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that tugged at his lips.

One day… one day I’ll be brave enough for you.

Read Part 2: Courageous

#bucky barnes x female reader #james barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

[there-must-be-a-lock]

For Us Sinners

Soulless Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~4130

Warnings: This is 100% pure smutty religion-themed filth. Sam is dressed as a priest. There’s sex in a confessional, severe perversion of the Hail Mary prayer, and a lot of blasphemy happening. Like. A lot. Orgasm denial. Squirting. Non-explicit mentions of Winchester threesomes, gun play, and knife play. 

A/N: For @stusbunker​‘s “Jam Basket” fic exchange! This is for the lovely @rockhoochie​. I managed to squeeze a decent amount of her jams in here. Sarah, my dear, I hope this makes you even a little bit as happy as your friendship makes me. 

Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for lore, encouragement, and inspiration! 

You’re frowning at the trunk arsenal, wondering if it’s possible to sharpen a machete too much, when movement catches your eye. Sam rounds the corner of the old warehouse, and you grab a knife and a whetstone just to have something to focus on that’s not him and his stupid smirky face or the way his shoulders look in that suit. 

The whole priest thing is a really good look on him. 

“Dean’s not back yet?” he asks, without preamble, sitting on the edge of the trunk next to you. You focus very intently on your knife. 

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” you snark, to cover the way you’re blushing. “Why yes, I did have a super fun afternoon of doing fucking nothing! Waiting around for you two is exactly how I wanted to spend the last three hours, thanks for asking.” 

He laughs. “Weren’t you just telling me that I should stop pretending to be normal polite Sam?” 

“Whatever,” you mutter. 

“Lemme see that,” he says abruptly, and plucks the knife from your grip before you can protest. He takes one look at it and laughs at you, twirling the blade in his fingers. “Working out some frustration, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What’s really going on? You’re only like this when you’re hungry or horny.” 

“Bullshit,” you snap, but he’s totally fucking right. He’s way too perceptive these days. 

You’ve been refusing to play poker with him ever since this whole soulless deal came to light. He’s like a walking polygraph test… a very attractive, muscled polygraph who’s really good in the sack. 

He’s analyzing your expression with his head cocked. “The knife thing?” 

“I don’t know what you’re — that’s not—”

He holds the tip of the blade to your throat, and you stop stammering immediately. You close your eyes and swallow hard. 

“That’s not new, though,” he says thoughtfully. 

When you open your eyes, ready to protest, he’s tucking the knife back in its sheath and twisting to set it in the trunk. 

“How’d you know about that?” you ask reluctantly. 

He just smirks, that godawful not-Sam not-smile, with his dimples popping and his eyes glittering. 

“One of these days you’re going to realize that I’ll never judge you,” he says, low and sly. “C’mon. Tell me.” He puts on a prim, sanctimonious face, pointing at the collar, and says, “Confess your sins and all will be forgiven.” 

He ruins the pious effect by licking his lips and aggressively eye-fucking you. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out all squeaky. You’ve never been good at poker, and if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by, he can see exactly what’s written all over your face. 

“Shut up,” you say preemptively. “Asshole.” 

“This is totally doing it for you, isn’t it?” Sam asks. 

“Shut up.” 

His smile is gleeful. “Oh my god, it is!” 

“That’s not — I’m not—” 

You grit your teeth and stand up abruptly, and it’s not like you can go anywhere but you need to move; it’s impossible to think straight when he’s right there and he smells so good. 

He gets up so quickly you barely have time to blink before he’s in your space. He backs you against the warm metal of the door, caging you in with one big hand planted on either side of your head, and you have to tilt your chin up to meet his wickedly sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, soft and heated, lips curling up in a familiar dangerous smile. “Lying is a sin.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, but you can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

“Besides, I can always tell. Admit it.” 

“You are so fucking—”

Without warning, he’s tugging at your zipper, yanking the button open, and shoving a hand roughly down the front of your jeans as he murmurs, “You are so fucking into this.” 

Before you can protest (not that you’d really want to) he’s got two fingers sliding into you, curling sweet and easy where you’re ridiculously, undeniably, outrageously into this. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you sigh. 

He’s just smiling, watching you squirm, playing with you like a cat might play with a mouse, and as much as you’d like to be angry about it, he knows exactly how to use those clever fingers. Then — 

“Dean’s back,” he says calmly, and before you can even process that, he’s sucking his fingers clean and walking around the car to greet his brother. 

You have about three seconds to button your pants, thank your lucky stars that you were on this side of the car, and generally get your shit together before it’s back to business. 

“It’s a goddamn garden statue,” Dean is saying. “Some crazy old bat donated it to the church and then just up and left town. First person disappeared the next day.” 

“So we wait til dark, take it down, break the curse.” Sam shrugs. “Easy enough.” 

“Like a chant ‘n’ smash,” you offer. Both the boys give you blank looks, and you try to pretend like your brain isn’t totally scrambled. “You know. Like a salt and burn. A good old-fashioned chant and smash… no? Okay, whatever.” 

Sam is barely containing his laughter. Asshole. 

“I could use a nap before we do that, I’m wiped,” Dean grumbles, taking off his clerical collar as he slides into the driver’s seat. Sam keeps his on. 

As you’re all getting buckled, he says, “Why don’t you just let us handle this one, Dean? You should take the night off.” 

“If you guys want some privacy to bone, you can just say so,” Dean grouches. “But get another motel room, don’t bring Baby into it.” 

“Yeah, we know. We will,” Sam reassures him. 

Dean does not seem reassured. He looks at Sam suspiciously. “So, what, you’re just being nice?”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” Sam says bluntly. “You look like shit and I don’t want you hunting with me when you’re this sleep-deprived.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that I buy. Man, this whole soul-free honesty shit is gonna take some getting used to.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh, and Sam gives you a wink in the rearview mirror. 

 * * *

“That is the creepiest-looking angel I’ve ever seen,” Sam comments, striking a match. “And l’m including Zachariah in that. Okay, here we go.” 

He lights up the little bowl of herbs he’s concocted and says a few things in Latin, and then the smoke coming up from the bowl turns eerie green and seems to sink into the worn concrete. 

“Is that it?” you ask dubiously. “How do we smash it?” 

“That’s the fun part,” Sam says. He attaches a silencer and loads his gun, quick and practiced, and when you’re both out of shrapnel range he aims almost lazily while you try not to stare at his fingers. Bad enough that he’s still wearing the priest getup. Watching him shatter an angel with a few perfect shots shouldn’t be a turn-on, but…  

“Shouldn’t” is one of those words that lost most of its meaning when you and Sam started fucking. In the last two weeks, he’s managed to discover kinks you’ve never even admitted to yourself. 

Speaking of — 

“C’mon,” he says, and when the gun is deposited safely back in the arsenal, he grabs your hand without waiting for an answer, leading you around to a side door. The door isn’t even locked. Sam’s smile is gleeful in the moonlight. 

“What are we doing?” you ask, as he leads you inside. 

It’s almost completely dark, just a faint glow from the emergency exit signs to light the sanctum, until Sam takes out his matches and lights a few of the tall pillar candles that are arranged in nooks around the altar. The golden glow flickers and dances on the walls. 

Sam grabs you by the wrist, and you halfheartedly attempt to tug your hand away. He’s got that glint in his eye that can only mean trouble. 

“We really shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, as he pulls you over to the confessional. 

“What are they gonna do, condemn my soul to hell?” he says flatly, and you stifle a giggle. “We established a while ago that my immortal soul is fucked.” 

“Mine isn’t,” you mutter. 

He looks at you with another of those smirks and says, “That’s why you’re the one who needs to confess.” 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” you sigh, but instead of answering, he crowds in close, pressing you up against the smooth dark wood of the confessional, and kisses you, all teeth and tongue and liquefying heat, until your lips feel bruised and your entire body is tingling. 

“Confess,” he whispers, and with one last grin, he points you toward one curtain and slips behind the other. 

If you’ve learned anything about Sam over the years, soul or no, it’s that there’s no point arguing when he’s made up his mind about something. 

Sam seems to have made up his mind. 

You pull the curtain closed behind you and sit on the little bench, and you have to breathe through some long-buried memories before the words come to your lips. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you whisper.  “It has been… a long time since my last confession.” 

The flickering candlelight cuts through small gaps around the curtain, casting dancing shadows through the cramped space. Your cheeks are burning. 

“Sam?” you ask tentatively. “This feels stupid.” 

He lets out a low, cocky chuckle, and his voice is all sorts of promising when he replies, “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while. Play along for me.” 

Fine. 

“Where do I start?” you mumble. “I drink, frequently. I have been dishonest. I gamble, and I do not dress modestly, and — I don’t know. What else?” 

“Do you have impure thoughts?” You can hear the smile in Sam’s voice. 

“Yes.”

“About what?” 

You swallow hard, closing your eyes, thinking about the way he looks right now. No preacher has ever looked so good in that black suit. “About… about you.” 

“Go on.” 

“About the way you feel inside me. About the way you fuck me.” 

“What did you think about last time you touched yourself?” 

Your breath hitches. “I thought… I imagined that you —” 

“Lying is a sin.” 

Fuck. 

That’s the thing about Sam; he won’t let you get away with politeness, or with half-truths, or with telling him what most guys would want to hear. 

Fuck him and his creepy polygraph spidey senses. 

“I imagined that it was Dean,” you whisper, cheeks burning. 

“And how did that go, in your fantasy?” There’s no trace of surprise or hesitation in his voice. 

“I was — he bent me over the hood of the car.” 

“That’s not the first time you’ve thought about him, is it?” 

“Sam, I don’t — this is weird,” you say, squirming slightly. 

“Why?” he says, and you keep waiting for the jealousy or the disgust to color his words, but all you can hear is curiosity. “Do you think about him while I’m fucking you?” 

You let out a long, measured exhale. “Yes.” 

“Have you thought about him walking in? Listening to us?”

“Yes. Sam, I don’t—” 

“Were you thinking about him a couple days ago, in the middle of the night? When you couldn’t seem to keep quiet?”

You shudder, pressing your thighs together. “Yes.” 

“Tell me.” When you hesitate, he continues, “I wondered… felt the way you were squeezing around my cock every time it got too loud. You wanted him to hear.” 

“I wanted him to — to imagine. I hoped he was awake, and that he was turned on, and—” 

“You wanted him to join in,” Sam supplies, when you falter. His voice sounds husky, now. “You were imagining both of us, huh? What else?” 

“Sitting in your lap, in the backseat, while he watches in the rearview,” you mumble, and now that you’ve started talking, it’s hard to stop: “I think about getting on my knees for both of you. Letting him have my mouth while you fuck me, or… one of you holding me down.” 

“Have you imagined us handcuffing you? Taking turns with you?” he asks calmly. 

“Well now I’m imagining it,” you huff, and your nervous giggle breaks the tension for a moment. 

“I know you’re holding out on me,” Sam purrs, when the silence starts to stretch. “Leave my brother out of it, if you’re getting all hung up on that. What else?” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. 

“Trust me. God isn’t judging you and neither am I. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

You can’t bring yourself to spit it out, even like this. “That’s it.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is silk and steel now. “Why don’t I take a guess?” 

“Fine.”  

“Knives,” he says bluntly, and your inhale is too sharp to be innocent. “You like the way a knife looks in my hands, the way it’d be dangerous if I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Yes.” 

“You want to know what it’d be like: cold metal on your skin. A knife at your throat, or... a gun to your temple.” 

You’re shaking. 

“How’d you know?” you whisper. 

“I pay attention,” he says simply, voice ragged, and then there’s a long pause before he asks, “Is that the end of your confession?” 

You’d almost forgotten where you are. You’re grateful the screen is still between you and Sam. 

“Yes,” you say, and because old habits die hard, you add, “I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past lives.” 

“As for penance…” You can hear the teasing note in it, and some of your self-consciousness dissipates. “You can begin by taking off your clothes.” 

“Here?” you laugh. “Sam…” 

“Here. Now.” 

You let out a tiny, nervous whine of protest, but you’re too turned on to care, not when you’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. 

Then you strip, taking off your clothes with shaking hands and setting them in a neat-ish pile in one corner of the tiny booth. It’s chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling goosebumps run down your bare skin. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Now... you can say ten Hail Marys,” Sam says, with that smirk in his voice again. 

“I — really?” you ask. 

Just as you’re thinking that’s all?, Sam is ducking through the curtain of the confessional, crowding you in and pushing on your shoulder until you sit back down on the narrow bench. Even in the barely-there flickers of light you can see the wicked smile on his face as he drops to his knees in front of you.  

“And you may not come until you’re finished,” he orders coolly. 

Then he’s hooking his arms under your knees, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward so that he can get that filthy smirking mouth on you. He licks a hot slick stripe up your center, swirling his tongue over your throbbing clit, and —

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the wood with an echoing thunk, because whatever Sam’s doing with his lips is sending sweet fluttering waves of heat through your belly. “Oh my God, Sam, that’s—” 

“If you keep taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he growls, nipping at your inner thigh, “I’ll double it.” 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” you start, and it’s been a while; Sam’s not the only reason you have to pause. “Fuck. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the — the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now—” Your voice breaks as you whimper, and you finish in one long rushed breath: “— and at the hour of our death, amen.”

“There you go,” Sam says, practically moaning the words against slick skin. You’re already having trouble thinking straight. 

You start all over again, trying to rush through it as quickly as possible, but you stutter as Sam fucks you shallowly with his tongue.  

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam says, curling two long fingers into you.

Except it’s bad. In the short time you’ve been doing this, Sam has learned your sweet spots like nobody’s ever learned them before, and he’s not touching them now. This is barely a tease, compared to what you know he can do to you. It’s bad, and it’s going to get so much worse. 

You start to stammer through the third prayer. You’re so wet — from the thrill of the setting, as much as what he’s doing with his tongue — you can hear the slick thrust of his fingers inside you, dirty and distracting. 

When you pause for breath between “Mary” and “mother of God,” Sam hums low against your cunt, and you know he enjoys this, you know he gets off on it, but he lets out these noises that never fail to make you feel feverish, and now is no exception. It doesn’t feel chilly any more. By “amen,” you’re burning up. 

“Three down,” Sam murmurs. 

On the fourth “grace,” he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, and you make a high, squeaky, mortifyingly desperate sound. Your voice keeps breaking as you stumble through the next lines, until you end on a long, relieved groan. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Six more.” 

“I can’t,” you hiss. 

“You can. And you will.” 

On “full,” Sam twists his knuckles, and you gasp, arching your back, squirming. He fucks you in the same rhythm as your words, dragging friction across your g-spot with every syllable, and when you try to speed up, rushing through it, you can’t even get to “sinners” without breaking off in a moan. He stops completely as you pant for breath, and as you mumble through the last lines, painfully slow, you’re rolling your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperate for more. 

“That’s five,” Sam says. “I’ll give you a second to catch your breath.” 

With his free hand, he grabs one of your wrists, guiding your hand to the back of his head. His eyes flick up to you, watching hungrily, until you slide your fingers through the silky strands and tug lightly. 

You sigh. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

“Hope not,” he says, smirking against the crease of your thigh. “I’m into some weird shit, but I like ‘em warm and breathing.” 

“Ha fucking ha, Sam, that’s — fuck,” you choke, as he fits his mouth to your clit again, and this time he sucks lightly in time with the slow thrusts of his fingers.  You forget what you’re saying, somewhere around “God,” and stumble to the end in bits and incoherent pieces. 

“Six.” You realize you’ve got a death grip on his hair, all your muscles tensed-up and rigid with electricity that’s got nowhere else to go, but when you ease up, he pumps his fingers in deep and growls, “Harder.” 

He adds a third finger, and it’s so fucking good, so fucking much, filling you with fizzing pressure, and it takes most of your willpower to stop yourself from going under. 

You grit out, “HailMaryfullofgrace.” Lightning lances up your belly, and you squirm— “TheLordiswiththee.” — twist your fingers in Sam’s hair— “Blessedartthouamongwomen.” — muscles quaking, cunt clenching around perfectly curled fingers— “Blessedisthe. Fuck. Fruitofthywomb. Fuck — Jesus!” — tension surging and swelling  — “Holy Mary, mother of God, prayforussinnersnow, fuck, Sam!” — you’re almost there, almost, and he stops, refusing to give you what you want as you gasp out, “And —at the— the hour of our death, amen.” 

“Seven,” he says harshly, and you can feel him breathing hard, damp hot air teasing your slick swollen skin, and his mouth is so close to where you want it. He gives you a second and then: “Keep going.” 

You babble out a few words at a time, and your voice is ragged and broken, but it must sound close enough to what he wants; he’s winding you up again, fingers crooking expertly against that sweet spot. The heel of his other hand digs into your lower belly, right over that point of white heat, and it’s so intense, suddenly, that everything goes sparkly and distant.  

“Pray for us,” you groan, and he sucks, fast and hard. “Pray for us — us sinners —” 

There’s this pressure, right there, right where his fingers are stoking a fire, and it’s blazing, and —

“Sam, I can’t. I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

He’s not holding back, and you can’t either. You buck helplessly against the incredible suction of his mouth, holding him with both hands fisted in his hair as you bow up and cry out. All that pressure peaks, crashing down in wave after wave of relief, pulling you under like a rip tide as you come dripping-wet and messy. 

It blinds you, for a moment. You’re out of your body for who knows how long, lit-up and paralyzed by the high-voltage shock of it. 

When you come back to yourself, Sam is scooping you up and swapping places with you in one smooth movement, manhandling you so that you’re straddling him; he’s got his pants open just enough, can’t seem to wait any longer, and the breathless urgency is so unusual for him that your head spins. 

You’re still clenching through the lingering quakes of your orgasm, trembling, boneless like a rag doll, and it’s not you sinking down on his cock so much as him pulling you, filling you up inch by inch as you squeeze and quiver around the thick length of him. 

When he’s as deep as he can be, his arms wrapped around you and practically crushing you to his chest, you both pause and take a ragged gulp of air. 

“What even was that?” you slur, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall and trying to adjust. He lets out a rough groan through gritted teeth. 

“That is what I’ll be seeing every time I look at a confessional now,” he pants, starting to rock up into you. “Never gonna be able to walk into a church without getting hard.” 

He wraps an arm around your ribs, and the heat of his splayed hand on your shoulder feels like it spans half your back. Your naked skin seems even more obscene as it brushes the stiff cloth of his suit, and you can feel your own wetness soaking the fabric in places. You shiver, roll your hips, and you can feel the way he reacts, shuddering under you. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes this a little too much,” you say, breathless. 

“Who said anything about too much? No such thing.” He barks out a laugh, bucking up in a way that makes you moan. “I’ve been to heaven, and trust me when I say, this right here—” He twists his hips viciously to emphasize the word. “— this is so much better.”

“God, this is so —” you whimper. He fists a hand in your hair and bites your neck, and you jerk helplessly against him. 

“God doesn’t care,” he growls. “God wasn’t listening to you just now.” 

“That’s not —” You’re pretty sure he’s missing the point, but with the way your cunt is throbbing at every perfect thrust, you can’t remember what that point is; you can’t remember anything. 

“God’s not going to answer those prayers,” he says hoarsely. “I’m the one who’s going to handcuff you and bend you over the hood of the car and fuck you until your legs give out.” 

“Holy shit, Sam.” Your brain is shorting out. 

“I’m going to make sure Dean sees you when you’re all strung-out and begging for it,” he promises. He jerks up with a vicious twist of his hips, and you grind down to meet him, every inch of your skin singing. “I’m going to hold a gun to your head while you ride me. I’m going to give you anything you want.” 

“Please.” Your moan sounds more like a sob, and you can’t see straight anymore; it’s all going distant, until the only thing that feels real is the aching, pulsing heat of him inside you. 

Sam claws at your back, dragging his open mouth up the side of your neck until he can snarl against your ear: “God doesn’t answer prayers, but I do.” 

He surges up to meet you one last time. Your vision flashes bright white as you come, one exquisite pulse after another rolling through you, and it feels like a purer sort of ecstasy than any religious experience you’ve had in a church.

This is worth a little hellfire. 

.

.

.

There is now a follow-up drabble here!

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #soulless sam #stus1kjamexchange

[dark1k]

❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜ (Markus to Connor!) for the short angst starters if you're still doing them!

LOVE this blog btw

Omg thank you so much 🥺 I’m so happy you like my blog! Thanks for the request, please enjoy!

•••

November 12th, 2039 // 11:33pm

The night wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

Exactly one year ago, they had won their freedom. They faced down insurmountable odds and won. From the moment Connor approached Markus with an army of newly-awakened androids standing behind him, the pair had been inseparable. Markus often teased him over the circumstances in which their relationship developed, saying sickly sweet remarks such as, “I guess CyberLife did one thing right — sending you on that undercover mission in the cutest beanie imaginable! No wonder I fell head over heels instantly.” and more until Connor blushed a pretty cerulean and swatted his hands away.

Oh, how Connor wished they were nestled in bed, sharing lighthearted jabs and languid kisses in the fading streams of sunlight.

Instead, Markus’ thirium was staining his hands and the ground beneath their feet.

“Everybody out of the building!” Hank ordered the guests.

Pressing his suit jacket harder against the gunshot wound in Markus’ shoulder, Connor’s mind felt as if it was going a million miles an hour. The shooter was already apprehended, thanks to the heightened police detail attending tonight’s banquet, but how he managed such a shot in the first place, let alone how he bypassed security, was a mystery. An event to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Detroit was now a battle against the clock and Connor’s movements gradually grew more frantic.

“Markus, please keep your eyes open. The android medical unit is only five minutes away. Just keep your focus on me.” Even in the recesses of Connor’s memory, he could never remember a time where his voice cracked, almost begging as he attempted to stay level-headed. Having met Markus so late in the revolution, he never witnessed him actively get shot. Only the aftermath of such brutality in the middle of that foggy street, when their stories first intertwined.

Connor absolutely hated it.

Unaware to his knowledge, Markus’ audio processors were already damaged, sending the leader nothing but a feedback loop of screeching static. Connor saw his eyebrows furrow and his undamaged arm move toward the hands against his shoulder. He blinked sluggishly and his voice crackled as he spoke.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?” Markus asked, and Connor quickly realized that he was definitely confused, not fully aware of his surroundings or the severity of what happened. This only served to worsen Connor’s panic, did Markus hit his head when he dropped? Has the gunshot caused more damage than initially believed? Connor pleaded to whatever deity might exist — RA9, God, frankly it didn’t matter — that Markus’ faulty biocomponents weren’t causing his memory to glitch out.

And to think, Markus was the one who got shot and yet, here he was inquiring about Connor’s emotional well-being.

“Fuck, Markus, don’t worry about me. You’re going to be absolutely fine. The medical team is almost here. You're doing great, please stay with me." Not responding to his words, he lolled his head to the side and Connor saw his eyes widen, taking in the excess of blue blood coating their clothes. It appeared to click that he was obviously injured and using the same undamaged arm he moved earlier, Markus squeezed Connor’s hand. The detective felt sick when his brain examined how the gesture lacked the same amount of strength he usually possessed.

“It’s just a scratch, don’t worry.”

A hysterical laugh left Connor’s mouth before he could stop himself. Of course the leader of the android uprising would compare a through-and-through gunshot wound with a scratch. Shaking his head, he only squeezed Markus’ hand back in response and avoided looking at how much thirium was spreading across the white linoleum floors.

A minute that felt like an eternity later, the ballroom doors bursted open and the medical unit was swiftly pushing Connor aside. In his delirium and confusion, Markus reached out and attempted to keep the grip on his hand, but his weakened state and the slippery slick of blue blood caused it to be a fruitless effort. He keened and Connor decided it was the worst sound he ever heard.

Having started their ministrations, one of the doctors looked up at Connor as the others began opening a stretcher. “He’s lost a good amount of thirium, we need to transport him to the nearest hospital for further treatment. You’re welcome to join us in the ambulance but we need to leave right now.” Connor was already nodding his head before he finished talking, immediately walking back to Markus’ side once he was situated in the gurney.

Markus, who was typically so intense and focused on everything around him, was losing that awareness as his body started going into a forced shutdown.

Connor grasped onto his hands again, jogging in place with the medical team towards the exit. “Hey, hey. I’m going to stay by your side the entire time, you’ll be good as new in no time. Okay, Markus? We’ll be home soon enough and we’ll watch those nature documentaries you love so much. I promise.”

Still hearing nothing but static, Markus scarcely nodded his head in affirmation to whatever his boyfriend was telling him. It must have been something important for how fast his lips were moving and how his eyes never stopped roaming across his body, almost in a frenzied state. A moment later, he was succumbing to his body’s demands to shut down, the sudden exhaustion overtaking his systems too much to bear.

Connor barely glanced at Hank, who was managing the crime scene, and the others handling the surplus of press stationed outside, before he was boarding the ambulance. Markus’ thirium had evaporated by the time they reached the hospital, as if the entire event had been nothing but a horrible nightmare. A nightmare that wouldn't end for several hours.

As the clock struck midnight on November 13th, 2039, there were no celebrations to be found.

#rk1k #rk1000 #dbh markus #dbh connor #dbh #markus x connor #detroit become human #angst #my writing #don't worry markus makes a full recovery #I just really focused on the panic of the moment #one day I'll write something happy

[strongsassysexysloane]

Loved the two you put out! If you are still taking prompts could you do 4. “Are you flirting with me?” / “You finally noticed?” please? If not no worries :)

Sorry I know this ask was from months ago and I did it but then forgot for ages. 😬

So here it is ☺️

. . . . .

The celebrations had kicked up a notch. Tim kept mentioning shots and no one was at his level yet well except for Gibbs. He'd downed several drinks once he arrived.

Jack on the other hand was actually sober compared to everyone. She was happily sitting in the corner chatting with a drunk Palmer about something Ducky said last week.

Your heart was continuously trying to fight your brain into interrupting them. She'd looked over at you a few times and smiled. It gave you flutters even if you were past the point of feeling anything properly.

Thankfully their conversation seemed to end and she walked over to you. "What's cooking, good looking?" She smirked at your obvious blush.

You took another sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact until she threw in a wink and you almost choked. "Are you flirting with me?"

Without a beat. "You finally noticed?"

Not quite what you were expecting, Actually you didn't know what you were expecting. You laughed, trying to hide all the feelings that came bubbling.to the surface and you missed it. Missed the hurt that Jack felt by your reaction and clear deflection of her confession.

"Right well. Gibbs mentioned tequila shots so I'm out before I get any of that stuff near my system." She gave a half-hearted smile. "Night."

You stood there drunk and watched as she quickly backed away before you could do anything.

"Hey, what was that?" Kasie popped up beside you. "Why aren't you going after her?"

You turned too quickly to face her and your head spun. "Woah." You grabbed the table for support before you could concentrate on Kasie confused look. "Why would I? She obviously didn't want to be here?"

Now it was her turn to laugh and for you to be confused. "You're kidding right? She's been staring at you all night. Couldn't get a word in with Palmer for the past half hour. She practically jumped out of her seat when he took a breath."

You were even more confused. The furrow in your brow only deepening.

"What's gotten into you?"

"The bourbon mostly." You grinned, but the grin dropped when she put a hand on her hip. "Sorry... She said she was flirting with me and well you know me plus alcohol."

"You go even more dumb."

"Hey!"

"She's waiting for her ride. Go talk to her."

"Because I can do that?"

"Just go." She shoved you this time. Taking the drink from your grasp and nudging you towards the exit. Thankfully your feet eventually caught you again after a little trip.

You were unsure if you were hoping for Jack to still be outside or gone. If you were drunk there would be no way you'd be doing this right now.

"Y/n?"

You heard your name as you stumbled out of the bar, looking hopelessly into the dark. She was sitting on a bench outside the shop next door.

"Rides gonna be a bit." She slumped against the back of the seat and tapped the space beside her. "Need some air?"

You collapse into the seat, "Not really." She bumps your shoulder and the world spins, you were drunk. The nudge was for you to continue but all you do can do is a small smile.

A sigh escaped her lips. "Then you..."

"Kasie may have mentioned how dumb I've been and I don't know how to talk about this..."

She places her hand on your knee, her palm warm against your skin, the shock in temperature shoots up your body. "This being me flirting with you?"

You nodded and manage to look her in the eye. She's smiling, probably laughing at you on the inside but you don't care. That smile lights a fire in you and before you can think your lips are against hers. It's when she kisses you back with even more passion than you, that you don't pull away. Her hand snakes around your neck, holding you there even when she pulls apart to take a breath.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that tonight." She smirks, pecking your lips again and it brings a stupid smile to your face.

You bump your nose with her's. "Been wanting to do that for months."

"What took you so long?" She hums, her hand coming forward to cup your cheek as her eyes take over your face. Her thumb running over you bottom lip and you can't help but moan.

This time she pulls you in, swallowing your moan in the process. You grip her jacket to keep her close but to make sure it's real, that she's real. "Had to make sure you were actually flirting with me." You whisper against her lips before kissing her again.

You hear the car pull up but you ignore it. She sits back, waves at the driver before looking back at you. "Want to come back to my place?"

You freeze, unable to collect your thoughts and apparently your facial expression. She laughs at you, slipping her hand in yours before pulling you up with her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure I don't want to stop kissing you right here and I'm sure I want to go home."

You laugh and follow her to the car before letting her open the door for you. "Guess the others can handle themselves."

"With tequila? Doubtful." She slides in the backseat beside you.

You scrunch your nose up at the mention of Tequila. "Ok, going home with you is definitely the better option."

She quirks an eyebrow at you as the car pulls away from the curb. "Better option?"

You roll your eyes. "Best option I've had in years." You grin, leaning in and placing a kiss on her lips.

There was no other option and you both knew it.

. . . .

Something that has been sitting in my drafts for months. I wanted to add more but nothing new really came... Enjoy 😆

#jack sloane #jacqueline sloane #jack sloane x reader #ncis reader insert

[blonde-freckles]

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70

He can feel the building begin to shake under his feet before it comes down. He only has a split second to dive under the closest table, with barely a moment to check his surroundings before it happens. The room shakes, windows rattling as the walls come crumbling down around him. It’s all a blur, thick dust clouding his vision. He can hear the screams echoing out across the building before it falls to silence, he’s trapped encased in rubble and dust. He hears the faint squeak of his radio struggling to pick up a channel through the collapse.

He can feel the panic starting to crawl up his lungs as he shifts his weight, so he's no longer holding it all on his knees.

He’s half way through calling in his location when Hailey’s voice cuts off the radio. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell Jay? I thought you were waiting.” He can hear the desperation in her voice as he squeezes his eyes shut trying to control his breathing.

“I’m okay...really, it’s barely a scratch. I’m just a little stuck right now.” He lets out a shaky breath before pulling the radio close to himself, he’s not sure who’s he’s trying to convince, himself or Hailey. “I thought...I thought I could talk him out of it.”

He really thought he could. He thought he had this. There was something about military cases that stirred something up in him, something no amount of hour sin therapy could ever fix. His need to help his brothers. The belief that what they’d seen bonded them in a way that would never be able to be broken, and no matter how many times he got burnt by this belief he never gave up trying.

The radio falls silent but he knows she’s there, he can hear her quiet breaths through the radio. “Fire is on the way Jay.” Her voice is quiet and controlled and in full work mode but all Jay can hear is her quiet breathing. This morning he’d spent the first few minutes of his day just watching her breathe, his arms wrapped so tightly around her, their legs tangled under the soft white sheets as the sunlight filtered through. Their warm little bubble, so safe and secure.

“Help...” A quiet voice breaks out drawing Jay's attention, it’s faint but he can hear it. “Help me please...”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to work out the direction the pleas for help are coming from. He makes out a small gap in the distruction where the light is filtering in, carefully he reattaches his radio to his duty rig, shuffling down on his stomach, he pulls himself forward through the gap.

A steel beam lays across an elderly gentleman's legs, he looks late 70s maybe, with light grey hair now covered in dust, his hands holding tightly around the beam desperately pushing against it.

“Sir...” Jay jumps into action, crawling faster as he makes his way through the gap. “Sir are you all right?”

His brain kicks into work mode, shutting off any lingering thoughts on not making it out of here alive as he assesses this situation. The mans bleeding pretty heavily, his legs crushed on the beam that might be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. It’s far too heavy for Jay to lift or even try to shift, instead he manages to use his belt as a makeshift tourniquet.

He calls through the radio, listening intently as Brett comes over the air waves to get an idea of the gentleman’s injuries. When Jay does manage to finally slow the bleeding the radio crackles back to silence and Jay looks down at his blood stained hands, wiping them on his jeans in the hopes the gentleman won’t see just how much there is as he sits beside him.

“You’re a detective you say?”

“Yes...erm sorry I never got your name.”

“Arthur Brady...I would say nice to meet you but...” The man half chuckles as Jay gives him a short nod wondering how he could be so chipper in a moment like this, surely he can feel the extent of his injuries, even if he can't he can definitely see the severity of the situation.

“Whatever you do Jay keep him talking until we get there.”

Bretts words echo in his mind.

“Arthur...Arthur talk to me...tell me what brought you here today.”

Time seems to tick by slowly, the faint crackle of Jays radio fading in and out every so often. Fire had arrived, but it was gonna be a long wait until they could get to them. The building was not on steady ground and the aim was to get as many people out alive as possible, however long that took. Hailey's voice had only come through the radio once more in that time, just to say the bomber's body had been pulled from the wreckage near the exit...he hadn’t made it. In the meantime Jay continues to probe Arthur with more questions in the hope it will keep him awake, but he’s also glad for the distraction that it provides him. Sitting still, having nothing to do...that’s never been Jay's speed. He learns that Arthur was at the bank to get some cash out for his granddaughters 21s birthday, he has two daughters and a son and 6 grandchildren. He was a wedding photographer for 47 years before he retired 10 years ago.

“My wife Katherine...oh she’s beautiful. You know we’ve been married 53 years this year..." Arthur explains as he pulls a worn leather wallet from his top pocket, handing it over. Jay could see the old photo inside, it’s slightly faded but he can make out the image of a bride on her wedding day, the vail thrown back over her hair to reveal her smiling brightly at someone behind the camera.

"So what's the secret to making it work?" Jay questions, his gaze falling back to his own phone and the photo of Hailey that lights up his background. He’d dragged her along on a hike a while back, with the promise of getting doughnuts after. She’d been laughing at something he’d said as the sun went down behind her, making her blonde curls glow and he’d snapped the pic before she’d had a chance to protest.

"Marry your best friend. Marry someone you can laugh with. The kind of laugh that makes your belly ache, and your nose snort. Marriage is hard. Life is harder. There are days when you'll wanna walk but as long as your relationship is buried deep in friendship you'll always find your way. You think you might know someone like that?" Arthur asks with a slight twinkle in his eye as he nods towards the phone in Jay's hand.

Jay nods, a soft smile growing on his face as he runs his thumb across the photo on his screen, handing Arthur back his own photo. “Yeah I think I do...and she’s almost guaranteed to be just outside this building right now, she’s gonna be so pissed at me for being here.”

“I don’t think Katherine will be too happy either...will you...will you tell me about her?...what’s her name?” He nods down towards Jay's phone again.

“Hailey.” Jay whispers softly, he can already see her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the street, eyes trained on every person emerging from the wreckage. Honestly what he wouldn’t give to hear her knowing tone telling him that she’s sick of hospital waiting rooms right now.

“She sort of came out of nowhere, I wasn’t really looking for anything when we met, actually...there was someone else when we met. I couldn’t even tell you the moment everything changed...trust me I’ve tried to work it out but it’s just like one day she was my partner and friend and the next she was the one person I could never live without. I remember looking over at her years ago and thinking I could lose all this...this job. This job that I’ve let define me for so long but it wouldn’t matter as long as I was with her.”

“Sounds like you’re in deep...How come you’re not married?”

“Oh we haven’t been dating that long...I...we still have some things to figure out.” Jay swallows, if he’s honest he’d marry Hailey tomorrow. He’d have married her six months ago given the chance. As soon as they started dating he knew he couldn’t ever imagine spending his life with someone else. He knew it a week in, he’d come in from an early morning run to find her sitting on the kitchen island coffee cup in hand, his t-shirt hanging loosely on her body as she read the morning news. She’d handed him his coffee without so much as a second glance and he’d known in that exact moment. It had taken everything in him not to get down on one knee right then and there.

Things had changed since their first I love you, he was even more careful with her. He didn’t want her to be overwhelmed, he wanted to help her in any way he could. She was trying, really trying and she had gotten good at letting him know when she felt flustered by their relationship, when she needed space or when she needed reassurance. He was all too happy to comply, he was happy to do whatever it took to make this work.

“Don’t waste time...not with the people you love.” The sad look on Arthur’s face like he’s almost defeated makes Jay think the elder man might be close to giving up as his eyes flicker shut briefly.

“Tell me more about Katherine.” Jay urges, he wraps a hand around Arthur's wrist, checking his pulse as he does. It’s weak.

“She’s the dream. I was a New Yorker you see, born and bread...was only here for a wedding 54 years ago when I saw her through the window of a cafe”

“And you knew right then and there?”

“God no.” Arthur begins to laugh but it turns into him choking as he struggles to catch his breath. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Love...real true love takes work and a lot of it. You’ve got to choose that person every single day.” He croaks out, his eye sparkling as he recalls the memory in his mind. “What I did know was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was a young man at the time, full of a confidence I had no real right having.” Jay chuckles, he’s been there, the cocky confident guy in his 20s thinking he knew it all. “I could never have known the love that would’ve formed, so deep it almost shook me to my core. I’d never been in love before, but I’d seen others, especially in my line of work and then I got it, I got why people behave the way they did. I remember thinking if this is what love feels like I get why it starts wars.” He’s words trail off and Jay watches the way his head drops slightly.

“Hey, Arthur...Arthur we’re almost out you hear me. Stay with me now Arthur. Katherine is waiting, she's still waiting for you.”

“Will you tell her...”

Jay shakes his head furiously. Leaning up as he twists his radio, calling out for an update. “No no...I’m not going to pass on any messages.” He mumbles, grabbing hold of both Arthur’s shoulders. “You’re gonna tell her Arthur...Katherines waiting for you.”

“You tell her I loved her and that she made my world a better place.” He mutters before his eyes roll back and Jay begins to bark down his radio desperate for anyone to respond.

It is only seconds later the loud ringing of a drill sounds and Kelly Severide’s voice echoes around them. Jay can feel the relief flooding through him as the familiar uniform comes into view.

-

“Jay...” The bright sunlight is a stark contrast from the darkness he’d been buried in the last few hours, the buzz of the scene hitting him is almost deafening as he hears orders being shouted out. “Jay...” Hailey’s voice stands out amongst the noise. As he steps out away from the building, he’s ushered past the destruction zone and he can hear Brett asking him to sit but he’s too focused on finding Hailey as he scans that area.

He hears more commotion behind him watching with bated breath as Arthur is pulled from the rubble, he’s attached to a bodyboard, as the next set of paramedics rush to his aid.

He doesn't even see her approach before he feels her arms wrapping tightly around him, he releases a breath he’s been holding since the building first blew as his arms wind themselves around her waist, he sticks his face into the side of her neck letting the wisps of blonde that’s fallen loose from her ponytail tickle his face as he does. They’ve never been ones for any type of public affection, while they’re on the clock anyway but right now he can’t bring himself to care. He breaks away after a while, already missing her touch but he knows they have an audience. He watches as they lower Arthur down onto the gurney wheeling him their way.

“Is this her...is this your Hailey?” He coughs, struggling as they place the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Jay can see Hailey glance his way, shooting him a silent question. “Yeah, this is her.” Jay nods, crouching down closer to Arthur.

“I’m gonna go get Katherine okay? I’m gonna bring her to you Arthur so don’t go anywhere.” Jay grips hold of Arthur’s hand, making sure the man sees the sincerity in his eyes as Sylvie lets him know that they need to move now. “Take care of my girl and I’ll take care of yours okay?” Jay asks, glancing back at Hailey who’s just watching silently.

“Deal...”

He steps back letting them get him into the ambulance as he turns back to Hailey. He can see from the look on her face she has a lot to say and he’ll happily listen to everything but just not right now. “Hey I’m okay I promise I’m okay and I'll sit and get a full checkout at the hospital just to please you but first I have something to do, please just trust me and keep Arthur company until I get to the hospital.”

“Erm sure okay...”

Jay smiles as she agrees without question, pressing a firm kiss on Hailey's forehead surprising her before he’s rushing off through the crowd without another word.

-

Hailey loses sight of Jay almost as quickly as she finds him, her heart is still thumping in her chest as she tries to keep reminding herself that he's alive, he’s alive and safe and doing whatever the hell he does. She'd done as he asked, joining the man he'd been pulled from the rubble with into the ambulance.

The ambulance roars into life and she watches as the elderly man begins to pull down his oxygen mask much to the dismay of the newest recruit to 51, his hand shaking as it reaches out for Haileys.

She takes his hand in hers. It’s cold but it squeezes onto hers tightly. She’d heard the tail end of their conversation. “You take care of my girl...I’ll take care of yours.” She’s not sure what Jay has planned but she trusts him, no questions asked.

“That man loves you more than life itself dear.” Arthur croaks and the tears that she refused to let fall in front of all their colleagues finally fall, splashing against her cheeks, his words catching her off guard.

-

The E.R is a mess, overrun with victims from the blast, no one can tell her anything as Arthur is rushed off for surgery, she’s not family, she has no right to know. So instead she takes a seat in the corner out of the way of the chaos.

She thinks she might be dreaming when he finally emerges through the doors, still dressed in his blood-stained clothes, an elderly woman holding tightly to his arm as he leads her through the crowd and towards the front desk. His eyes find hers quickly like he doesn’t even need to search for her, he just knows where she is and the small smile that plays on his lips as their eyes meet is enough for her.

-

It’s hours later when Katherine and Arthur are finally reunited. Jay helps Katherine towards his room, stopping in the doorway as Hailey hangs back. She’s still not sure what the infinity with this couple is but she’ll go along with it if that’s what Jay wants.

“That’s gonna be us one day.” He mutters quietly as the door slips shut and he steps back out into the hallway. Hailey raises her eyebrows in surprise as Jay makes his way around her, his arms encircling her waist as he leans his chin on top of her head. Both of them watching the elderly couple through the window. The way Katherine caresses Arthur’s face as he presses a kiss to her hand. The look of pure joy to see each other is so evident in their faces.

“Minus the major bleed and building collapse I hope.” She hums, leaning back into his embrace, finally feeling at ease as the weight of the day seems to slip away.

He nestles his face into her neck, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I make no promises...”

“Hey...” she laughs, shaking her head as she places her hands on top of his, she can feel his lip quirk up into a grin against her neck and it makes her own lips turn up. “How are we going to grow old together if you keep being so reckless?”

“That’s what you love about me.”

Hailey turns in his arms, slipping her arms around his waist, one hand stroking his back softly. “I assure you it’s not...but I do love you.” She whispers the last part, she still struggles to say the words but each time she does it feels a little easier, like the words that were once so dark get a shade lighter each time she says them or hears them fall from his lips.

She watches as Jay takes a sharp breath, before resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes softly just breathing her in. “I’m gonna say something. It’s not a question it’s just a thought...okay? I’m giving you fair warning for when the time comes.”

Hailey narrows her eyes but nods anyway, letting him pull her to the side as the hallway becomes busier. “I love you...you’re my best friend and...”

“And?”

“And I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Her blue eyes widen for a second and Jay bites down on his lips to stop the smile that comes every time he looks at her. He can see the thoughts whirling through her mind like waves crashing around the ocean. He feels her arms squeeze his waist a little tighter before she simply shrugs. “Okay...” she mumbles , laying her head back against his chest as she turns her gaze back towards Arthur and Katherine. They stand there for a moment in silence and he wonders if she can see what he can...a glimpse at their future. His thoughts are confirmed when he feels her lips pressed to his cheek curling up into a smile against him. “Okay...I’ll marry you one day.”

#Upstead #Upstead fanfic #Upstead oneshot #upstead fanfiction #hailey x jay #jay halstead #jay x hailey #hailey upton #tracy spiridakos #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd fic #Chicago pd #onechicago

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 19

TW: Violence, strong language, cursing

Words Count: 2.3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 20

After your heated argument with Jimin, you find yourself in the small library room, the room that you often find solace in. You sit on the couch, hugging your legs tight before letting the sobs take over.

You set yourself into this. You fall for him even when you know it’s going to cause you pain.

For a long hour, you just cry yourself out until your body is exhausted and you just stare numbly ahead.

And that’s when you decided you’re going to leave.

You force yourself to sleep then because you know your body needs rest. But half an hour later you find yourself constantly twisting your body, unable to sleep as you wait for tomorrow’s morning to come with pounding heart.

When the morning finally comes, you pace back and forth in your room. You couldn’t sleep a wink last night. You lean against the door, listening intently.

Once you figured that it’s safe, you duck out silently and heads upstairs into the bedroom. You don’t see your husband anywhere so it’s a safe bet that he’s already out to work.

Wasting no time, you take out a medium size duffel bag and stuff several pairs of shirts and pants. You dig in the small drawer and takes out some cash that you had kept. For a moment, you contemplate whether you should bring your phone with you but then decide against it because you don’t want to risk being tracked by your husband.

You head downstairs and exit the house silently and from then on, it is fairly easy to escape. Your own bodyguard, Taeseok is nowhere to be seen and thus makes it easier for you to slip through the security as they probably wouldn’t think that you’re escaping.

You weren’t stopped until the front guards and you quickly lie about going to the gym with a friend and he doesn’t seem to be suspicious at all.

For a long time, you just walk and walk and just take random buses and sit on a bench at random parks, just watching people passing by, watching people who doesn’t seem to have any worry in their life although you know everyone is far from having zero complications in their life.

Everyone is working hard.

Everyone is working hard living their life.

And there’s you. A foolish twenty three year old girl, who’d married the leader of a dangerous mafia gang and ended up falling in love with him.

You find tears slipping from your eyes.

Jimin..

You wonder if your husband’s looking for you.

Or perhaps he’s decided to let go whatever it is between the two of you.

Had you just imagine it? Every little act that he does?

Perhaps you should’ve just said yes to your husband’s new proposal. Maybe that could’ve made things easier and you don’t have to deal with immense pain like this from heartache.

But you know that you couldn’t share him. You don’t want to share him with another woman.

You let out a long sigh. This wallowing-in-sadness is really getting nowhere.

You get up then and sees that it’s almost dark, dusk almost setting in with the yellow and orange sky. Somehow, you find yourself on the outskirt of Seoul after all those random routes you’ve taken. You checked into a small budget hotel after searching around the neighbourhood. You plop yourself on the bed once you’ve settled into the small bedroom, briefly wondering what you’re gonna do after this.

You don’t have any plan.

Let alone a huge sum of money.

You close your eyes for few seconds.

Nevermind all that. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.

You can start slow from the bottom. Find some low paying job and make your way from there. You resolve to go for a job hunt first thing tomorrow morning.

After you finish a long shower that night, you curl yourself on the bed. The mattress is rough, not at all soft and comfy like the one you’re used to sharing with Jimin but it’s okay, you don’t mind it one bit since you’re used to hardship before you even met him.

You marvel at the fact that you’re once again out in streets. Not far from before you met Jimin, really.

And your husband..

You feel a laughter of disbelief bubbles up inside you.

You left your husband. You made the decision to leave him when he couldn’t reciprocate the feelings he’d never promised in the first place so it’s a bit ridiculous that you’re missing him now right?

Unknowingly, your fingers trace your lips. It seems so vivid how your husband had kissed you last night. You’ve never been kissed that way before but then again, you’ve never been kissed by anyone.

You want to blame your husband for putting you through such pain but you know it’s not his fault. The marriage and the relationship you have with him is only temporary so he doesn’t do stupid things like falling in love or become emotionally invested because that would be a waste of his time.

He’d given you the choice yet you’re the one who chooses the wrong way and walks away from the opportunity he’s given.

But is it though? Are you making a mistake right now?

If you had just say yes, you could have everything you want.

Except his heart, of course.

Which is ironically the only thing that you want.

But you know deep down you don’t want to lie to yourself and to him.

It proves easier than said to find work in this small neighbourhood. It’s been four days and you still hadn’t find a job and you’re getting more anxious.

But no matter what, you still have to eat. You’ve survived not eating for days before and you can survive on minimal food consumption so this is definitely not a new feeling. Pursing your lips, you make your way to the grocery store and begins stocking up on several ingredients and paid for it.

You head back out, holding a bag full of groceries. After a few minutes of walking, you suddenly had that eerie feeling of being watched, a feeling that felt so similar to the one that you’ve experienced while at the charity function at Jaehyun’s house a week ago.

Shiver runs down through your body and you’re not sure if it is caused by the cold wind at night which is suddenly stronger or your growing paranoia.

Pulling your jacket tighter, you start to walk faster. It’s daytime, though bleak clouds are looming over you but it’s still bright. Nothing would probably happen in this broad daylight right?

You wish you were right.

Something happens really quickly just then. One moment you’re just turning the corner towards your block and the next moment, you see someone jumps out of a van and clasps your mouth and nose with cloth tightly.

And everything becomes black after that.

You didn’t faint, you think once your brain starts functioning. Perhaps only for a fleeting moment, you think. You blink several times but your vision is still blinded and realize your face is covered with a mask. The hum of the car’s engine and the slight shake of your body tells you you’re in the van you saw and you’re being transported somewhere. It’s quite a long distance and you try to think of possible places from the routes they’re taking but to no avail. You haven’t lived in the neighbourhood for long, it’s impossible to know where they’re bringing you.

The van eventually comes to a halt and suddenly you feel your body being dragged out. Your feet struggles to catch up as the person drags you over the rough gravel of the pavement, the cold wind making you shudder immediately.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” You ask and it’s obviously a mistake as a harsh slap lands on your cheek instantly. You wince, feeling blood forming on your lips.

“Shut up, bitch.” The rough voice says.

They make you sit on a chair, your hands tied behind your back. Your throat is very dry and you’ve no idea how long they’ve kept you there. You can’t see anything as your face remains covered.

At some point, you doze off and only wake when someone hit your cheeks, not too rough but still leaves a stinging pain. They uncover your face enough to give you some water and that’s it. You’re left alone again.

You’re not entirely sure if you’ve been hit again because the stinging pain on your lips and cheeks are now numb, you can barely feel them. You’re not sure if you fainted at some point either.

You hear some voices then. And despite the mask you’re wearing, you open your eyes to the darkness.

“Well, well, well.” A familiar voice. Too familiar.

And that’s when the mask covering your face is yanked away and your eyes struggle to adjust to the light.

“Hello little sister.”

Jay.

Your own brother.

Your eyes stare fixedly at him as he smirks at you. He looks pretty decent, his cheeks doesn’t sunk so much, his face cleaner and he dresses normally.

“J-Jay-“ you struggle to say, your throats is still very dry. You swallow several times and try to gather your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Aww little sis, don’t take that tone with me. Don’t you miss me?” He leans forward and cups both your cheeks forcefully making you whimper in pain. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

You spit on him, forcing him to release you and with a look of rage, he slaps you hard on your right cheek. Your eyes widen when you see few drops of blood splatter on the floor. You think your lips had split in a dozen different parts.

Jay spits and then wipes his face clear. You look around and realize you’re in some abandoned warehouse and there are several other guys looking at the both of you with interest.

Perhaps they’ve never seen a brother so willingly hit his own sister.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jay tongues his cheek before smirking. “I know you’re living with Park Jimin now. You think you’re safe now that you’re living with him? Do you even know what kind of guy he is?”

“He’s my husband.” You answer firmly.

He laughs at that. “Husband? Funny how he can let his wife be kidnapped, huh? But that doesn’t matter. I need your beloved husband here.”

You grit your teeth. “Why?”

“You’re asking why? What- you think he can simply takes you as he wish? He needs to pay me before taking you. And if he doesn’t, I will sell you off anywhere. Anywhere that gives me the most money.”

You scoff. “That’s all you always think about. Money, money and money.”

“Don’t we all? You have all his money yet you won’t even share some for me? Some ungrateful bitch.” He spats.

He then lunges forward and nothing prepares you for another stinging pain as he hit you right on the cheek. “This is for leaving me bitch.” And then another. “And this is for being such a slut.”

You feel your vision momentarily blinds as your eyes roll out and you struggle to remain conscious. “Just kill me.” You croak.

“Kill? No no that’d be too easy little sister.. I want you to suffer what I suffered.. you’re gonna die.. eventually- oh you will. But being the good little sister that you are.. you’re gonna let me have my fun first, gonna cut your pretty little face first and then maybe your fingers.. and your cunt.. did you have sex with him already? Of course you did like the slut you are.. and then I’m gonna let all these men here fuck you and if you’re still alive by then.. we’ll see..”

“You’re psycho.”

“Psycho?” He laughs. “Maybe I am. Maybe after all is done, I’ll give you back to your precious husband and see if he’ll take you back..”

“No..” you say slowly. “He’s gonna come and he’ll tear your limbs before you could say my name.”

“Shut up bitch,” is the last thing he says before he knocks you out again.

The next time you wake, you hear a female voice in between male voices.

“Don’t you think you had too much fun with her? What if she’s dead already? Damn it, missed my chance to have fun..” the female says, her voice also strangely familiar.

The other guy you realise is you brother laughs. “No.. don’t worry.. this bitch is tougher than you think.. how do you think she’s survived years of my beating and still breathing?”

“Maybe you hit like a pussy.”

“God damn it, I wanna stick my cock into your mouth so you’d shut up bitch.”

You hear her laughter.

Your stomach churns and you have this sudden whooping feeling as your eyes finally refocus and widens in recognition of the said female.

Clara Kim.

There’s no mistaking her tall and slender figure, although her hair is now changed to blue color.

How is she related to your brother?

“Someone’s awake.” Clara says as her eyes meet yours. She takes several steps forward and leans down to stare at you from top to bottom. “So this is Jimin’s wife huh... no wonder he’s changed.” She says when she straightens again.

“Not gonna lie.. I like Jimin and so does a thousand other girls out there but I don’t demand his heart. I don’t do shits like relationship and so does Jimin but you- you little witch-“ she pauses then leans forward again, her slender fingers clasps your cheeks, turning it left and right, “Not so pretty now with all these blood and bruises huh?”

You stare at her in disdain. “He’s not gonna come. He doesn’t love me.”

“We’ll see about that.” She smirks.

He’s not gonna come, briefly you think.

“Just kill me, kill me!” You yell and someone knocks you out again.

Link to Chapter 20

Posted on 210514 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

#wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #teen!reader #daughter!reader #dark!wanda #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #Wanda vision

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 17

This is my @wackydrabbles​ post for week 87. The prompt is bolded. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Drake and some language.

*I was in a silly mood and this turned into a dumpster fire lol and it feels very rushed but I was trying to meet the word count. There may be a little bit of plot in this.

Word count: 1999

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

Liam sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress; one leg bent upright with the other extended crookedly out in front of him. Half of a bottle of Don Julio dangled loosely from a hand settled on his knee while two shiny gold rings encircled the pinky tip of his other.

In a fit of anger late last night, he searched for and consumed the first bottle of alcohol he came across in the liquor cabinet. He had no intentions of getting hammered or even a little drunk; Liam just needed something to take the edge off the hurt. Not that he for one second believed a word Riley told him before she walked out and boarded a red-eye commercial flight back to the States. 

As Liam pondered her abrupt departure in the early hours of the morning, one thing was for sure: He'd never been in love before, but what he felt for Riley was real -- and reciprocated -- that, "no," she spewed from her mouth when asked if she loved him was a lie.  

But why? That was the question he just couldn't figure out.

Having racked his brain for hours and with the sun finally coloring in the darkness of his chambers, Liam set aside his drink and lifted himself off the ground. Every thought that consumed him for the last several hours was riddled with putting the pieces together of why she actually left and why she felt she couldn't tell him the truth. Nothing made sense, yet ruminating alone in his room until he figured it out wasn't going to solve anything; the only way to get to the bottom of this was to retrace Riley's steps from the time she left the ball to when he made his way up to join her a little later. 

Stumbling to the bathroom -- mostly from exhaustion and perhaps a little drunker than he realized -- Liam stripped off the tuxedo he wore the prior evening and took a quick shower before heading down to the security office.

-----------

Riley's heavily drooping eyelids popped wide open when the plane shook from another vigorous tremor of turbulence. Gripping the armrests on both sides of her seat, she hesitated to peek out the window but was relieved when she saw the billowy waters of the Pacific had transformed into small, mosaic blocks of land covered by a shadow of the nearly setting sun. 

When the aircraft settled again, Riley reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone to check the time, grateful to be landing soon. She planned to go straight home, sink into her bed, and sleep the rest of her life away. Maybe wake up every once in a while to sob again before going back to sleep. Whatever Riley decided to do, she hated Madeleine, she hated Tyler, and she hated telling Liam she didn't love him; the more Riley thought about the stunned look on his face when she said it, the more nauseous her stomach felt.

And the nausea was getting worse.

Riley caught the eye of a nearby stewardess and waved her over; she needed ginger ale, and she needed it fast. 

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I … I need, ginger ale, please." She asked through ragged breaths.

"Let me check and see if we have more." Riley nodded appreciatively.

"Hey. Don't I know you from somewhere?" A relatively large guy in the center seat, whose sweaty arm flab had been lodged in Riley's shoulder since takeoff, asked. Oh shit! Riley cupped a tight hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously; the last thing she wanted was to be recognized. 

Or vomit.

While the stewardess searched the service cart for the requested drink, the gentleman's eyes enlarged. "Wait a minute. Yeah! You're that little gal who married some king, with ..." he snapped his fingers before adding in his thick Texan drawl, "the monkey and hookers and shit. Wow, my fiance wants to have a wedding just like yours." He held his hand out to her. "The names Beaver Calhoun, mayor of Slippery Nip, Texas. I guess you could say we're both royals, huh?"

Riley lowered her hand slightly; she was past the point of ginger ale helping, and this guy was blocking her way out. "Beaver, I need you to move." 

He stroked his chin in thought. "Well, I don't know, Queenie. I'm pretty content with my life there in Slippery Nip, Not really lookin' to uproot."

"No!' Riley's strained voice responded forcefully, "move out of the way--" She tried to fight it, but her head flung forward and everything came out with her last word.

Beaver looked down at his shirt and quirked a brow. "That's gonna leave a stain."

=============

On the second floor of a run-down Motel 6, just off the beaten path in Las Vegas, Drake tossed in the last of his clothes and airline tickets in a duffle bag and zipped it. Stepping over to the window, he pulled aside the tattered curtains to check if the airport's shuttle van had arrived yet. Disappointed, he grumbled to himself, "Where the hell are you? I'm ready to get the fuck out of here." 

The past week had been intense -- well, frankly, the entire month had been nothing short of shit balls. Five weeks ago, Drake landed in Las Vegas for Liam's bachelor party and won big money at the casino, only to have it all pissed away on some old, decrepit hooker who stole his wallet, cell phone, dick health, and what little joy he had in the world. Liam left with a sexy ass wife, and all Drake got was the false claim of fathering triplets and his scowling face on the front cover of the National Enquirer with Dr. Ethan Ramsey detailing the entire sordid journey from pre-surgical rooster rot to the aftercare.

He made a quick $500 for the story, in which he badly needed the money, considering he couldn't leave Vegas until the paternity test results came back. It was enough for his lodging, a couple cans of Beenie-Weenies and a few boxes of pepperoni Hot Pockets; his stomach felt like oil sludge at this point. But as a joke, Leo had sent a box of Ding-Dongs, so it wasn't all bad.

The rotary phone in his room rang out, and he answered the call from the front desk, which let him know transportation had arrived. Drake grabbed his bag, flicked a cockroach off of it, and exited his room into the enclosed hallway.

After stepping onto the elevator and hitting the down button, another person strolled on in a black leather mini-skirt, white see-through halter top, and a pair of fishnet stockings that he'd recognize anywhere.

"You!" He growled at the chain-smoking hooker, backing her up into the corner. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? And I WANT my wallet and cell phone back, now!" He hovered menacingly over the much smaller woman.

"No offense, but I'm not interested in giving them back to you," Pinquee Kittee sneered before reaching into her bra for mace and spraying him directly in the eyes. The rapid burn gave way to her next act of defense when a screaming, blinded Drake was doubled over by a swift karate kick to his newly transplanted organ. "Hiiiiyah!"

Drake cupped himself in anguish, fell to the floor, and slumped over as the elevator doors opened. Pinquee Kittee grabbed his duffle bag and peeked down the hallway to make sure no one was around before making her getaway.

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

Just outside of the palace's security office, Liam knocked on the door several times without an answer. It was rare that the King would personally pay a visit. Usually, he would call Bastien and have the head guard look into any issues. With him gone, this just felt like something Liam needed to do in person. 

After several more knocks, Liam reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to let himself inside. The lights were off, with only a few CCTV screens displaying various images of places within and surrounding the palace. Finding the light switch on the wall beside the door, Liam flipped them on, and his mouth fell agape at what he saw.

"What the hell happened in here?" He shouted as his hands shot to his hips, glaring around the room. 

On the floor was a maze of beer cans, whiskey bottles, remnants of silly string, a five-gallon bucket of butter next to a slip-n-slide, a voodoo doll with Liam's face on it, and half-a-dozen guards passed out. 

A furious Liam made his way through, kicking the feet of guardsmen as he stepped along. "Get up! All of you!"

One-by-one, they slowly roused until they realized it was the King in their presence, then they jumped to their feet at attention. 

"Would someone like to explain what the actual fuck happened in here?" Liam wasn't one to swear in front of his staff, but there was no way he could hold back after walking in on this scene. His glowering eyes shifted with expectancy from one man to the next, waiting for an answer, until someone finally called out, "We threw Rogers a going away party for his last night on the job, Your Majesty."

"And you thought having a wild party while you were ON DUTY to protect 400 members of the nobility for a major event was the time to do that?

The guard shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I admit we weren't as attentive as we should have been last night ..." he pointed behind Liam, "but Prince Leo came by and suggested we kick it up a notch."

Liam turned around and caught Leo slithering along the edge of the wall toward the door. "Leo!"

The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, then flickered his eyes and jolted his body as if he were just waking up. Leo looked at Liam, acting surprised to see him. "Liam? Is that you? H-How did I get in here?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Leo."

"What?” Leo shrugged innocently. “You know what I think happened. I must have been sleepwalking again. You know how I get when I watch The Duchess before bed." He cocked his head introspectively at his brother. “And you do look like the Duke from that movie, you handsome devil you?” He grinned impishly.

Liam stared blankly at his older brother for a few seconds, then turned around to face the others gathered around. "Who's in charge here?"

When one of the men raised a hand, the King stepped up to him and explained, "Alright, I need you to pull up security footage from last night. I want to review everything from the moment I stepped outside the ballroom to meet the Queen around 9:30, and where she went after I went back into the ballroom." 

If this were any other day, Liam would have fired every one of them on the spot and sent Leo to Antarctica, but he only had one concern: Finding out what happened to Riley.

As the guard typed in his computer to pull up footage from last night, Leo stepped up to Liam, who was hovering over the guard's shoulder with anticipation. "What's going on?"

Never taking his eyes off the screen, he responded. "Riley went back to Las Vegas last night."

"Wh-Why? What happened?"

Liam let out a breath. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Leo remained silent before giving his little brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and watching with him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as different camera footages were switched to follow Riley walking from the main staircase, through several passages, and finally ending with the corridor outside of his quarters.

"Stop!" Liam leaned in closer as the guard paused the video; his entire body tensed up at what he saw.

"Is that ..." Leo scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Madeleine."

___________

Tags: @burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​  @jessiembruno​ @texaskitten30​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​s @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @charlotteg234​ @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie​ @theroyalheirshadowhunter​ @princessleac1​ @kimmiedoo5​ @graceful-leah​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @thegreentwin​ @gkittylove99​ @neotericthemis​ @pink-diamond13​ @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09​ @gabesmommie1130​ @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801​ @debmcg1106 @lifeaskim @choicesstan650​ @emkay512​ @royalromancer​

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueen​n

Anything with Drake:@tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:   @narrytheworld​​  @queenwalton​  @cordonianprincess​        @zaffrenotes​ @zilch3​  @drrookie​ @sfb123​ @secretaryunpaid​ @masterofbluff​

#fools rush in #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance #prince liam #king liam #bbrandy2002 #wackydrabbles