#Letty's final one was easier

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

--東方文花帖 ~Shoot The Bullet 2-1, 2-3, 2-5: Unnatural Chill (Cirno)

[fairlyang]

Fun II 🕷️

ghostface!miguel having his way with you once again

w/c: 2.1K

pairing: ghostface!miguel x nerdyfem!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mention of murder, blood, knives. innocent reader, miguel is a perv, eating out, getting caught

part one

It took two full days for someone to find the bodies stacked on each other, given the frat house was huge and the guys only cleaned up the kitchen and living room.

But because the girls were in costumes and the guys told the police they had a Halloween party two days prior, it was physically impossible to find out who did it.

All they could really do was just have guards for them outside the frat house not knowing this was all done just for the killer to be with the one he loves.

And the cops specifically told them, no more parties. But what did the frat guys do anyway?

They threw a party on Halloween because of course they had to.

You were a hot mess and grieving terribly, two of your closest friends were murdered at the party they dragged you to, how were you suppose to feel?

Well according to your last remaining friend, why not go back to the murder scene for the Halloween party to have some fun?

You called her crazy to which she just waved you off and took you to a Halloween store to get a sexy costume.

You decided on Harley Quinn, with the "Daddy's lil monster" shirt and the half red half blue booty shorts. You decided to not go with the wig because they looked awful so you got some temporary pink and blue hair dye and prayed it'd be fine.

Meanwhile Miguel was preparing his ghostface attire for its final use while looking at his assortment of knives but keeping his buck 120 close to him.

It was finally time for the party, and you were all dressed up, hair up in two pigtails walking in with your friend who was in a Cat Woman outfit.

She immediately went off to do her own thing which bummed you out but there wasn't much you could do except go off to a quieter part of the house.

And with Miguel's luck he quickly saw her go into a room with a guy. Only makes his job easier.

He followed them and waited outside, just a good thirty seconds before opening the door and closing it shut before sneaking up on them already making out, somehow unaware of his presence.

He hopped on top of the bed pulled the man by his shirt and stabs him in the back. He spat out blood on top of your friend and right before she was about to scream, Miguel took the knife out and leaned forward, stabbing her tongue.

Her mouth made gurgling noises, still attempting to scream but just making herself choke on her own blood instead. He pulls his knife out and gets off the bed, stabbing boy toy once more for good measure before cleaning off his knife with the dude's shirt and walking towards the door.

He opens it and quickly closes it, before stuffing the knife into his robe pocket. He then walks off, moving past bodies in search for wherever you were hiding this time.

He walked all over the place, not finding you. He even checked off to the backyard with no luck.

He then stopped and walked over to the study room because surely there wouldn't be anyone in here.

He opens the door and of course there you were. He sighs and you look up with a puzzled expression prompting him to take his mask off, "Just me pretty girl." He says, waving his mask before closing the door shut.

"Hi Miguel!" You greet sweetly and give him a little wave.

His heart beat rapidly and he knew there was nothing from stopping him from being with you now. You could be all his.

"Abandoned again angel?" He pouts and you shrug as he walks close to you, admiring your costume.

How tightly the shirt fit and how those shorts were barely covering anything. Your thighs looked so gorgeous against that leather couch and there was nothing more he wanted them to be between them.

"Getting used to it by now." You joke making him chuckle as he takes a seat next to you.

"You look as gorgeous as ever." He says as he takes a seat right next to you, letting his leg barely touch yours.

"Thank you! Came as ghostface again huh?" You say turning your body to face him, crossing a leg over the other driving him insane.

"Yeah didn't feel like getting a new costume. What don't like masked killers?" He says as he looks at how those pigtails looked.

How pretty they would look in his hands while you su-

"I feel like everyone's a masked killer nowadays! Maybe Superman would've looked good on you." You answer innocently not thinking of how Miguel would take this compliment.

"Not as the joker then?" He whispers in your ear, wrapping his right arm over your shoulder.

You felt your face heat up as he grazed along your skin, memories coming back from the last time he caught you alone. How his fingers felt.

"M-maybe as the joker." You mumble, looking down at your boots to avoid his gaze, feeling suddenly shy and like wanting to hide.

"You're just so sweet." He whispers and leaves a soft kiss below your ear making your heart race.

"And so pretty." He murmurs leaving another kiss and bringing his left hand down to your thigh.

You gasp as he squeezes but quickly bite your lip, too embarrassed to say anything. "Y'know I haven't stopped thinking of you. I never do honestly." He admits, nibbling on your ear gently before pulling away and continuing, "but after last time it's been even worse."

"W-Why?" You stutter, eye fluttering as his left hand caresses your thighs gently while his right was trailing along your neck.

"Because I might be falling in love with you angel." He murmurs making you shake and almost let out a whimper.

His left hand was rubbing circles against your inner thigh as his right was nearing your right breast. "M-me? Why me?" You stutter and he sighs.

"It's always been you pretty girl, your friends just didn't want you near me for some reason." He says and leaves more kisses down your neck as you breathed heavily.

"S-Said you were p-picky." You mumble and lean your head back as his hands get closer to where you needed them.

"They lied." He spat before clearing his throat, "they didn't know me."

"But I'd love for you to get to know me." He says, now coming back up to look at you.

You bite your lip innocently thinking of what to say but for Miguel it only made his cock grow hard especially with the way your eyes were looking at him. God he needed you.

"What do ya say pretty girl?" He whispers, hoping for best case scenario if not he did all those murders for nothing.

You slowly nod making him grin, taking his left hand from your thighs and brings it up to cup your cheek. Your cheeks were rosy and your eyes had a new tint in them. Arousal?

His assumption was answered when you squeezed your thighs together and looked away from him. He looked down at your thighs and nearly groaned, you were already driving him so crazy. Unknowingly too.

He leans in, kissing you so gently as if you'd break if he were to full on make out with you. You kissed back and melted into his touch, practically fitting between his arm perfectly. Like you were made for him.

And as much as he wanted to take it slow with you and at your own pace he needed to taste you.

So he pulled away and let go of you making you pout, stinging his heart for a few seconds while he dropped down to his knees in front of you. You gasped as he reached up to undo your shorts with haste, "M-Miguel-"

You lift yourself up and he slides them off all the way down. He then spreads your legs apart making you whine while he salivated looking at your pair of red lacy panties. He looked up at you and you had such an innocent look on your face, almost needy.

He could tell you needed his mouth just as much as he needed to taste you. And he wasn't going to wait for confirmation.

He leaned in and left a soft kiss on your clit making you whimper and buck your hips up, poor girl already needing more.

So he gave it you.

He went down and licked up your clothed slit until he got to your clit and with a swift motion moves your panties to the side and starts sucking on your clit voraciously making you cry out above him.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and went down to get a better taste and you were so soaked, he had barely touched you and you had drenched your panties. My perfect girl, he thought to himself as he lapped at your folds and brought a hand down to his hard on.

You brought your hands down to his hair as you felt new sensations you've never felt before and were deeply glad it was Miguel who was making you feel good.

Even after all your friend's wanting you somehow ended up with a little crush on him. Because of their words you didn't think it would ever be mutual and kept away. Clearly they lied with the way he was practically eating you out like a starved man.

Your hands gripped onto his curls while he moaned against your pussy, never having tasted anything so sweet and perfect. You tasted better than he remembered and he's happy his plan worked for the better.

"Miguel — feels s-so good-" you moan and buck your hips into his mouth.

He brings his hand to your pussy and goes back up to suck on your clit while he teased your hole with his finger. You whimpered and your poor cunt squeezed against thin air as he'd pull his finger away at the perfect moment.

"Miguel please- I promise I'll be your good girl again." You whimper making him groan against you.

Those dirty words coming from such a sweet innocent girl. He was falling even harder.

He slipped two fingers inside, your walls gripping them as he slowly pumped them inside you. "Fuck!" You cry out and lay your head back to the couch.

He then stops moving and let's you adjust as you pleased before he slowly started pumping them inside you, wanting to prep you because he needed to be inside you tonight.

He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue while his digits started fucking you faster only increasing your moans and how tightly you'd hug his fingers. His good girl.

You let out more moans along with dirty words which only made his pants feel tighter and his pace increasing. He wanted to see you on your knees so fucking badly. You'd look even prettier with his cock in your mouth. Probably won't be able to take all of him given your inexperience but he wants to teach you and be your first everything.

He hadn't even realized how long he was thinking of everything he wanted to do with you until he felt you clenching against his fingers and you were crying out that you needed to cum.

He pulled away from your clit and murmured, "Cum for me pretty girl I've got you."

You nodded and whimpered as your orgasm hit you hard and left your entire body shaking as Miguel continued fucking your poor cunt until your creamy juices spilled out of you.

He stopped and pulled his fingers out of you slowly, and moved his head back to look at you, so pretty and breathing heavily. Poor girl.

He left a kiss to your thigh before fixing your panties when suddenly the door opens and he almost grabs his knife to throw it at whoever opened the door but opts against it. You gasped and tried to cover yourself but Miguel got you covered as he quickly sat on the couch, covering your body before yelling, "look at her and I'll kill you!"

Your poor body was so fucked out already but as soon as you heard the door shut you went back to reality. "M-Maybe we stop there." You say quietly and he turns around to look at you before leaning down to grab your shorts off the floor.

"That's alright with me angel." He says and kisses your cheek before turning back around to let you put on your shorts.

[noellawrites]

Y Tú, Mamá? Part 2 - Yandere!Lalo Salamanca x reader

part one linked here

summary: you wake up in a strange place and Lalo is the first person you see.

warnings: kidnapping, forced restraint

tags: @jaythegreat @gothams-gotchya @oceandolores @matt-lipstick @joonie7007 @mavericksicybabe

author’s note: the two year wait is finally over! sorry it’s so short. if anyone has any more ideas on how to continue this or what they’d like to see, please let me know! :)

Your evil, sadistic and wickedly smart husband had eyes on you every moment of every day.

And, in your momentary lapse of judgement, you had forgotten that. Lalo never let you out of his sight without a few of his men keeping eyes on you and his precious daughter.

After calling Saul’s girlfriend and setting up a meeting, you walked with Leticia hand-in-hand out to your car.

Before you even knew what was happening, Lalo’s men grabbed you and threw a bag over your head. The last sound you heard was Lettie screaming as your world went dark.

—

You woke up to the sound of birds chirping and children giggling. As you looked around the room, something about it was strangely familiar.

The mix of Southwestern and Mexican artwork, the patchwork quilt on the bed, even the view of the countryside outside of the window.

You looked down at the chains binding you to the bed and realized that this was Lalo’s house in Chihuahua. You were in Mexico.

“Good morning, my love,” Lalo cooed as he opened the bedroom door, a glass of water in his hand.

His unmistakable musk followed him, expensive cologne of tobacco and leather. Your body shook with fear each time he took a step closer.

“Lalo… why are we here? Where’s Lettie?”

“Lettie is fine, she’s with Abuelita and her cousins. Now, are you going to apologize?” your husband said, an edge to his tone.

He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow as he stares at you. You try your hardest to sit up, chains rattling as your limbs move.

“You don’t understand how hard this is for me, Lalo! I haven’t been able to see my family in years and your family hates me! You treat me like a pet! I’m tired of it!”

“How hard this is for you? Mi amor, I take care of everything for you. You do not have to work. You do not slave away. You simply watch after and grow our little ones,” he stated, taking a step closer.

“I never wanted this, Lalo,” you sighed, tears building up in your eyes.

“So I should’ve left you there, frying chicken for Gustavo? Suffering, struggling to get by?” he scoffed, shaking his head at how stupid you were.

“I don’t want to argue anymore, I’m tired and I’m cramping,” you groaned, trying to adjust and allow your stomach to rest comfortably. Your child seemed to be kicking up a storm in there.

Lalo walked up to you, eyes bearing into yours, and leans in to kiss you on the lips.

“Eduardo Junior should be here soon,” he says with a smile and a gentle rub on your stomach.

“Lettie’s gonna be so excited,” you say softly, trying to crack a smile.

Giving birth to your daughter at nineteen was a traumatic experience, to say the least. Especially with the way Lalo had kept you locked up.

And now, looking down at your chains, you suspected you would be put back under strict watch, though now he had his entire family to keep watch over you.

“Are you feeling okay?” Lalo asked, forehead wrinkling in concern. Before you could respond, he sat down next to you on the bed, resting his hand on the swell of your stomach.

“Yeah, I just— Lalo, do you think you might let me see my family sometime? I want them to meet Lettie and—“

“Mi amor, your family is right here in Mexico. Now, it will be so much easier to see Abuelita, the cousins, and all our nieces and nephews,” he smiled, gently rubbing your baby bump again.

“Lalo,” you said gently, “I want to go back to New Mexico. We can’t stay here, the kids—“

“The kids will love it here. Lettie’s Spanish will improve, they can be around family. I can protect all four of us better out here, hm?”

Lalo looked at you expectantly, and you knew in that moment that you will not be returning to the United States anytime soon. Lalo, the father and husband, always had the last word.

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒: 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: christmas and new year's eve are spent with coriolanus. ⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: kissing, innuendo ⊹ word count: 3216 ⊹ author’s note: apologies for being so late with this! it was my birthday and then I've been on new depression meds so I've been super tired from them ): but here's chapter three!! I hope everyone enjoys (:

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

You dive into your work full force on the 23rd, finally finishing Profiles in Courage and asking Jack your endless questions. All of which you scribble down in every available spot in your journal pages. Coriolanus has begun mapping out a campaign and slips the small pocket journal of ideas under your door late that night after the kiss. The two of you have shared looks with one another since but have yet to speak a word directly to your counterpart. For now, it seems your likenesses of each other’s goals are intertwined in the fact you are still working together for a common purpose. You had stayed up late that night, too. I delicately folded the golden rose in some tissue paper and wrapped it in a small box with string. Christmas Eve crawled through your window with the winter wind, and the taste of something metallic and sweet still lingered in your mouth.

“Do you think Santa will give Mister Coryo coal or a gift?” John Jr. asks you later that evening, briefly looking up from his figurines on the den floor where he sits beside Bobby Jr.

You try not to laugh at the outright question as Coriolanus is sitting across from you in his spot in that same chair he sits in, puffing his pipe with a playfully threatening look in his eye at your possible answer. You tread carefully, but not carefully enough.

“I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we, John John?”

Jack is in the joining area of the main floor, where the grand piano sits by the entryway, softly playing the notes to Carol of the Bells. Caroline is next to him on the piano bench, swinging her legs. Bobby is next to you, his nose deep in the newspaper from the morning as his wife Ethel shakes her head at her nephew.

Jackie approaches the sitting area with some cider, setting the tray down on the coffee table before the fireplace, “I’d hope Coriolanus has known to be good this year.”

You raise your eyebrows subtly as you pick up a teacup of the warm liquid, already knowing his gaze is on you, “Thank you for the drink, Jackie.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for being such a dear guest and being so dedicated to Jack’s legacy. We all appreciate it very much.”

The rest of the family resides near the cellar, where there’s a small table dedicated to poker and cigarette smoking, trying their best to keep it down as the game of cards progresses. It’s nearing bedtime for the children and much-needed adult time for the elders. Today and tomorrow are a little hard for you, but being around others makes it easier to bear. Being without family on Christmas can dampen the mood, and you wonder if Coriolanus feels the same way. You subconsciously let yourself look over at him to answer your question. He’s sitting with his leg crossed over the other, his foot relaxedly bouncing slightly as he stares into the fireplace. Coriolanus doesn’t have a book in his grasp for once as he absentmindedly takes a rather deep hit of his tobacco, letting himself exhale as his eyes flutter to yours. Almost as if he’s wondering how you’re doing and what you’re thinking, too. Your stomach flips as you place your teacup on its saucer respectively. 

Ethel finally rounds the kids up for bed, and they all protest without surprise. Bobby Jr. demands a Christmas bedtime story, to which the others mutually agree. With a sigh, Ethel gives in. Jack rallies everyone, even those playing poker, to come gather around the fire in the den. You decide to offer your spot to Kathleen and opt for the arm of the chair that Coriolanus is perched in. His arm still rests where it was on the fabric, dangerously close to your back. Jack sits in the larger chair beside the fireplace, opening up The Night Before Christmas. All the kids lay or sit before him, chins on their fists as they listen closely. The family chuckles occasionally when Jack chides in a sound effect or makes a joking comment to the side. Jackie looks over to you and Coriolanus with an almost knowing look. You feel tense about it until she gives a soft smile before returning her focus to her husband. The story draws closer to the end as the children grow sleepy, and Coriolanus’ hand grows curious. His fingertips slowly draw up your hip and softly grasp it, hidden under your shirt enough to where others can’t immediately see it. You look behind your back subtly, your eyes cast down at Coriolanus as he stares ahead, unwavering. 

The brothers and their father scoop up the boys and girls and carry them to their bedrooms, most of them half asleep or fighting it. Some of the adults oblige to their own beds calling, while others disperse elsewhere or remain in their respective spots. You’re one of the ones ready to call it a night, so you carefully move yourself from Coriolanus’ touch and off the arm of the chair. It feels cold where his hand had been when you stand up. The rest of your night is spent journaling at your desk until your eyes grow too heavy to remain open any longer. It feels like you closed your eyes for only a second before there’s a near pounding at your bedroom door. You peel your eyes open reluctantly to see the sun barely hovering over the horizon from behind the sheer curtains. With a sigh, you hear the pounding again, but this time upstairs and slightly to the right. Sliding on your slippers, you rub the sleep from your eyes before opening the door to reveal some of the Kennedy kids beaming up at you.

“And why didn’t you wake your parents first?” you raise an eyebrow, to which they argue that they knew you’d actually get up first.

You’re exiting the bathroom when you bump into Coriolanus, who has just come fumbling down the stairs. 

“They got you up too, I see?”

You nod, “Yeah. I guess we’re the fun ones.”

Coriolanus turns his lips up into a smile before allowing you to walk in front of him to the den, where the kids wait patiently for the two of you to approach.

“How about we start some breakfast for everyone and then open gifts when they’re all awake? Sound good?” you ask.

Some of the kids groan, but most of the boys eagerly race to the kitchen at the sound of breakfast. Coriolanus lets you take the reins in the kitchen as he does whatever you ask of him on the side, obeying your orders. Slowly, the family trudged into the kitchen and dining room one by one until everyone was seated. The family grows louder with chatter and clattering of dishes, excitement filling the air.

“What do we say to our guests who made us this wonderful breakfast, kids?” Jackie asks, looking around at the children expectantly.

A jeer of thank-yous comes from everyone around the table, to which you and Coriolanus shrug off.

“The real deal is the one who brought the presents,” you wave your hand dismissively, “So let’s go see what he brought, shall we?”

The kids need no more to be said before they all bound over to the den, taking their spots on the floor as Jack and Bobby move to assign everyone their gifts. You and the other ladies agree to clean up after gifts, so everyone is busy with something then. As you walk toward the group of kids tearing into their gifts, Caroline runs up and hugs your legs, beaming at the books you got her. John Jr. does the same, delighted he has another comic to add to his collection. Before you can find somewhere to sit, Coriolanus pulls you to the side of the den and away from the others. He ushers a box into your hands.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Coriolanus.”

“Sure I did,” he says, nearly cutting you off.

You sigh, returning the box to him as you weave through to the mantle, where your gift for him sits. You hand Coriolanus the neatly tied box as you take your gift back from him. You open it to reveal a leather journal with your initial stamped in the middle, with quills and an inkwell in a smaller container along with it. You gasp at the color of the leather and how it feels under your touch. 

“I can’t accept this-” you say, shaking your head as you look up at Coriolanus in shock.

Before you can carry on with your protest, you notice him holding the golden rose brooch in his hand as if it’d shatter if he dropped it. Coriolanus has an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes take in the simplicity of the accessory.

“It’s not much, but I thought of you when I saw it.”

“Thank you,” he says lowly, standing closer to you, “It’s just like the one my mother had.”

A solemn smile settles upon your features at his comment, and you reach out a gentle hand to place on his bicep, “The journal is beautiful, Coryo. Thank you. I’ll write in it properly.”

To that, Coriolanus laughs softly. Jack and Jackie approach you both with gifts from them and the family soon after. You all exchange gifts and soon begin cleaning up, preparing for the day of activity. Family photos had to be done, and dinner had to be prepped. More family is to come in, and so a nanny is brought in for the kids. You and the other women could handle only so much; plus, the New Year’s gathering would also be happening around the corner. Not to mention, you still have so much work to do before returning to D.C. in the New Year- your dissertation still needed to be worked on endlessly, and a presidential campaign had to be run quickly. Coriolanus had to return to D.C. for a few days to organize his campaign before returning to The Compound. You already know the next few days will be dull, but you were fine before Coriolanus was here, and you’ll be fine when he’s gone. 

Watching him leave made you feel melancholic. In just a few days, you’ve grown close. You aren’t sure how you’ll acclimate the nanny when she arrives without the help of Coriolanus. But you’re sure you’ll manage. The rest of the day is spent attempting to start one of Jack’s other books. Your mind keeps wandering to what Coriolanus could be up to. When you’ve grown tired of writing notes for Why England Slept, you decide to review Coriolanus’ campaign ideas. While he has some really viable points, you still add some of your thoughts and plans. Coriolanus mentions he is unsure of where to start campaigning and talking to people. So, you make a note to go to places where the working class resides. Places most campaigners wouldn’t think of visiting- like rural Pennsylvania and coal mining areas in West Virginia. The corn farms of Ohio, the orchards of Florida, or the backwoods of Georgia. The votes of the majority of the United States are where the wins will come in. But before any of that comes the Iowa Caucus and the New Hampshire Primary. So you begin to pen your ideas for that.

Before you know it, it’s dinner time. And after that, bedtime. And the days begin to drag along gradually. On the 30th, Jackie and Ethel decide to go out for lunch in Boston and make a day of it. They invite you to come along, and you don’t hesitate to say yes, especially since you’ve been cooped up for a while. Jackie suggests you buy a dress for the New Year’s Eve party. You decide to get something classy yet attention-grabbing, especially since that night will be the first time in a few days you’ve seen Coriolanus. And boy, have the last few days without him made you grow frustrated in numerous ways. Every time you go to read, you grow distracted with thoughts of him. And every time you go to write for the campaign, you think of Coriolanus and how life would be like if he became president. You also wonder how your friendship will grow and if it’ll go any further. You try to push away these thoughts while you’re out with Jackie and Ethel. 

“So,” Ethel drawls from beside Jackie as the three of you stroll down the sidewalk, “What’s with you and Coriolanus?”

You must compose yourself briefly before answering, “I’m unsure of what you mean?”

Ethel and Jackie chuckle, “Oh, don’t be daft,” Jackie jokes, “We see how you are with each other. Everyone does.”

You gulp nervously at the revelation, hoping you hadn’t made a fool of yourself, “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, ladies.”

“We know young love when we see it, dear,” Jackie says, placing a hand on your bicep briefly, “But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wish to.”

On your walk, you eventually find a dress shop and begin looking around there, searching for something golden and shimmery yet simple. You spot a dress that’s exactly what you’re looking for and go to try it on. It fits perfectly, so you buy it and some heels to match. Patiently, you wait until Ethel and Jackie have finished shopping. You all decide it’s best to go home and get ready for tomorrow, as it will be a hectic day. And it is busy from the second you wake up. John Jr. and Caroline wake you early to go play in the freshly fallen snow. After that, soup and a sandwich are served for lunch, and then you spend the day reading and writing. The party is growing nearer, so you decide to shower and get dressed. You wear a deep shade of red lipstick, one similar to blood, with your gold eyeshadow and light blush. Your hair falls loosely around your face as you study yourself in the mirror. Hopefully, you’ll catch Coriolanus’ attention with your looks tonight.

You hang around Kathleen and some of the other Kennedy ladies as hors d'oeuvres are set out and drinks are served. You don’t hesitate to have a glass or two of vodka crans with small amounts of food to sample. Everyone is loosening up as more people begin to show. A large turntable has been turned on with some Frank Sinatra playing throughout the house, and Bobby finds you to dance after having his turn with Ethel.

“Care to dance?” he asks with his charming Kennedy smile.

“Of course, I don’t mind, Bobby,” you smile back, accepting his outstretched hand.

The current Sinatra song is quick-paced, so Bobby tests your swing dance skills. The vodkas are doing their thing, and you’re trying your best not to giggle too much at Bobby and his antics. The song ends, and you allow Jackie to have her dance with the younger Kennedy. Taking a moment to step outside as it’s nearing midnight, you realize you’ve yet to see Coriolanus. Maybe he hasn’t gotten here yet, or he’s sneaking around as usual, not saying anything as he observes. Some other folks are outside smoking, wrapped in shawls or peacoats and discussing random things. You join in the conversation until everyone eventually dwindles away. You find a spot by the balcony, staring out at the moonlit ocean as the sound of icy waves crashes onto the beach. A waiter offers you a glass of champagne as it’s almost time to ring in the New Year. You take it despite being heavy with sadness. You had hoped you wouldn’t spend another New Year’s Eve alone, yet here you are. You swirl the champagne around the glass, hoping Jackie or the other ladies won’t find you out here and ask a million questions. When it’s finally ten minutes until midnight, you’re readying yourself to head back inside when a soft hand places itself on your waist. You turn quickly to see Coriolanus Snow behind you, clad in a pressed and prim suit, the golden rose brooch upon his lapel. 

“Good evening,” Coriolanus smiles subtly, a glass of champagne in his hand as well.

“Good evening,” you say back, letting your eyes settle on his, “In pretty late?”

“I got here a few hours ago; I just haven’t been able to get away from talking to everyone here before finally getting to you,” Coriolanus sighs.

“Saved the best for last?” you joke, hoping you’re hiding your nerves well enough as he steps forward to you until he can no longer be any closer.

“Of course I did,” Coriolanus deadpans, reaching a hesitant hand up to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I like your brooch, by the way,” you say, eyes darting to the shiny accessory.

“An absolute dear gifted it to me,” Coriolanus says, “I like the color of your lipstick,” he runs his thumb over your bottom with the hand he had to your face moments before.

Thankfully, the lipstick was matte drying, so it doesn’t come off when Coriolanus touches your lips. You try your best not to physically shudder as he doesn’t let his hand fall to his side but rather cups your cheek with it. Coriolanus pulls out his timepiece to check the time, and it’s a minute until twelve. The crowd inside begins counting down as you and the tall blonde before you hold eye contact without exchanging words. And as the clock strikes and the people inside the house cheer, the two of you neglect your champagne and connect lips. Coriolanus pulls you to him roughly by his hand on your jaw, his fingers sprawled on your ear, in your hair, and on your face. Your back is pressed to the balcony railing as your free hand glides through Coriolanus’ straightened and slicked-back blonde hair, pulling him closer to you. His tall figure looms over you despite the heels. Coriolanus moves his lips to your jaw and ear, leaving a trail of kisses along there. He unknowingly nips at a sensitive spot of yours, causing your breath to hitch. Coriolanus chuckles into your skin as he does it again on purpose, relishing in the sound you make. 

“Meet me upstairs, second door on the right next to Jack’s office. I’ll be there in a little while- can’t be too obvious,” Coriolanus pulls away from you, his knuckle tracing along your jaw.

You look him in the eye, “Your room?”

Coriolanus stares at you wordlessly, his intense stare confirming that, yes, he wants you to meet him in his bedroom. You down the glass of champagne and put on your dazzling smile for everyone who bids you a Happy 1964 as you try your best to go upstairs unscathed. You finally do, and you close the door with a sigh as you brace yourself against the wood. What are you about to get yourself into? You aren’t sure, but nothing about this past year has been expected or sane in any way, so why not?

[pluralitypoll]

Welcome to the PLURALITY POLL!!

Starting on 11/2/24, with each round lasting for a day, people are welcome to vote for which plural / system they like best!

All of the characters were chosen by the mod, and peer-reviewed by their partner!! And as a general note: some of these characters are simply coded to be plural, not necessarily canonically. However, there is evidence for a majority of these as to why they're here!!

Please do not start syscourse in the tags or in the comments. That is the one thing I ask.

*Arthur / John and Phosphophyllite / Lapis Lazuli do not have images. The former is on purpose due to lack of official art, but the latter is not. Just ignore it!!

And now, without further ado.... MAY THE BEST PLURAL WIN!!

Matchup list below the cut for easier access:

LEFT SIDE:

Yuji Itadori / Ryomen Sukuna (Jujutsu Kaisen) vs. Princess Luna / Nightmare Moon (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Yukito Tsukishiro / Yue (Cardcaptor Sakura) vs. Mafuyu Asahina (Project Sekai)

Oz / Jack Vessalius (Pandora Hearts) vs. Shinta Ruri (Ranger Reject)

Shinobu Sensui (YuYu Hakusho) vs. Amu Hinamori (Shugo Chara!)

Unknown Patient (Evillious Chronicles) vs. Near [Nate River] (Death Note)

Nicole / Jessica Sanders (NBC's Heroes) vs. Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy VII)

Arthur Lester / John Doe (Malevolent) vs. Josef / Cartaphilus (Mahoutsukai no Yome)

Nobara / Koyuki Ibaragi (Gakuen Alice) vs. Echo / Noise Baskerville (Pandora Hearts)

Uendo Toneido (Ace Attorney) vs. Yugi Mutou (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Zetsu (Naruto) vs. Toko Fukawa / Genocider Syo (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc)

Daisuke Niwa / Dark Mousy (D.N.Angel) vs. Mikoto / John Kayano (MILGRAM)

Alice Baskerville / Intention of the Abyss (Pandora Hearts) vs. Homura Akemi (Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica)

Lucy / Nyu (Elfen Lied) vs. Klein Sieben (RWBY)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) vs. V / Johnny (Cyberpunk 2077)

Satoshi Hiwatari / Krad (D.N.Angel) vs. Phosphophyllite / Lapis Lazuli (Houseki no Kuni)

Letty / Rick (Alicemare) vs. Fraulein Bibliotheca / Chiquita (Irodoru Sekai no Namari Hime)

RIGHT SIDE:

Sora / Roxas / Ventus (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Alfendi Layton (Professor Layton)

Aquamarine Hoshino (Oshi no Ko) vs. Neopolitan / Trivia Vanille (RWBY)

Ayin (Lobotomy Corporation) vs. Momoka Nishizawa (Keroro Gunsou)

Greed / Ling Yao (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood) vs. Aventurine (Honkai: Star Rail)

Owen / Kizu (Mahoutsukai no Yakusoku) vs. Hitsugi Kurone / NEGI (Ensemble Stars!!)

Charles / Scarlett Eyeler (Hello Charlotte) vs. Iruma Suzuki (Mairimashita! Iruma-kun)

Korekiyo Shinguuji (Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony) vs. Soul Eater Evans (Soul Eater)

Hatsuharu Sohma (Fruits Basket) vs. Alisa Ilinichina Amiella (God Eater)

Tomie Kawakami (Tomie) vs. Chise Hatori (Mahoutsukai no Yome)

Hantengu (Kimetsu no Yaiba) vs. Faust (Limbus Company)

Ken Kaneki / Sasaki Haise (Tokyo Ghoul) vs. Ghost Quartz / Cairngorm (Houseki no Kuni)

Harvey Dent / Two-Face (DC) vs. Furina de Fontaine (Genshin Impact)

Vinegar Doppio / Diavolo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind) vs. Jin Bubaigawara [Twice] (My Hero Academia)

Yogi (Karneval) vs. Marc Spector / Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Charlotte Wiltshire (Hello Charlotte) vs. Layla (Genshin Impact)

Shu Itsuki / Mademoiselle (Ensemble Stars!) vs. Seele Vollerei (Honkai: Impact 3rd)

[stardustjie]

[spoilers for babel by rf kung]

i could spend hours talking about this book in its entirety and im choosing to talk about letty instead. i think she isnt a bad person because she conciously chooses to hurt other people, we could argue she isnt responsible for the people im charge of the country, but she still choses to profit from an injustice system. a system that not only hurts those who she claims to care about, but hurts her and because she profits from that system can only see the way she is oppressed by it. what makes her character tragic is how she betrays the people who lightened her personal curse — loneliness.

because victoire herself tells us letty has always been lonely and we, as readers, can see the complexity of her character. she is a woman oppressed by the misogyny of her time who, despite her talent, had to witness her brother wasting her dreams. her father never loved her and she was destined to just be a wife if she didn’t write to her brother's teachers. in a way, letty is easy to empathize with. the irony is that she was finally loved and decided to throw it away because she wasnt able to see farther than her pedistal.

the truth is that it would have been easier if letty were just evil, if she decided to betray her friends because she just hates how they are her peers or whatever evil reason one could have, but she isnt like that. she chose to help her friends even when it wasnt in her best interest, she stayed when they told her they understood if she didn’t. letty loved her friends, for a time. until she had to challenge her beliefs and then she chose what was more important. she isnt evil, she is so much worse than that. she is a lonely little girl who could have been better, but wasnt. its just another story of failed potential, in a way.

(note: i wrote this at 2am and im not sure if it makes sense. dont hate me)

[sinclairthedesperate]

((Starting this RP scene early because ignoring the passage of time makes these Tumblr RPs way easier hujdflk))

~ @heavensentofficial

Mornings at the temple always started early. Between the Liturgy of Hours at a quarter to five, private prayer at a quarter past five, morning prayer after that and then finally breakfast, Lettie was usually quite exhausted by the time she got free time, it was necessary to take a nap, at least for an hour or two. The semi-frequent interruptions of her sleep didn't really help matters, but that was neither here nor there.

It was only after a quick nap and getting the essential polite greetings of the day that made all seem as usual out of the way that she could get dressed and head out. It wasn't like nobody knew where she was headed. The conversation had been quite public and no one had gotten in her way. She was an adult, she could make her own choices.

Still, it somehow felt like sneaking around whenever she left without permission. She'd even gone out of her way to pick out a hat to cover up her ears and horns and a dress long enough to mostly hide the woolen legs before leaving, as if she were incognito.

By eleven, she was at the cafe as promised, seated near the window and hoping Sinclair would recognise her, despite her efforts not to be immediately recognised. At least her summer haircut was growing out by now, reaching past her shoulders already. As she waited, she sipped at a vanilla milkshake and hummed to herself, eyes pointed out toward the street.

The bus rumbled to a halt and Sinclair eagerly hopped off, her white bag slung over her shoulder. Her outfit of choice was a miniskirt that showed off her long legs and a baby pink top that accentuated her figure. She made quick strides towards the cafe, excitement bubbling in her chest. Thankfully, Moxie was out with Alex and they had just paid off Bailey, so the twins had some extra money to spend. Sinclair couldn't wait to spoil her so called “best friend”.

As soon as she spotted Lettie at her usual table, Sinclair's face lit up with a wide smile. She gave an enthusiastic wave before practically bounding inside and nearly causing Lettie to topple out of her chair with the force of her hug.

"Oh my gosh, I've missed you so much!" Sinclair exclaimed, still squeezing Lettie tightly in her arms, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. The familiar scent of coffee and baked goods filled the air as she finally let go.

[steveshcrringtons]

send ⭐️ + an oc and i’ll list the 5 people they love the most.

Sienna

This one is slightly easier as Sienna isn’t a fan of most people 😂

1. Letty Turner ( @eddiemunscns )

2. Roy (obviously but also once they finally get out of their enemies era)

3. Her brother Andy

4. Jamie (once she finally forgives him for breaking Letty’s heart and warms up to him)

5. Isaac McAdoo (this is such an odd pairing to everyone but they’re literally besties)

[lettielowenstein]

As a child― hell, as an adult, even― Lettie had admired Terry with something that she can only ever think of as its own sort of reverence; as Lettie got older and her childhood interests either passed or deepened, as her own inherent melancholy imprinted itself firmly onto her bones, she came to appreciate her aunt's presence in her life more and more by the day. It was a testament to that fondness― to the knowledge that Terry would always make a space for her if she needed it― that made Terry perhaps the easiest person in her life to keep contact with.

Asher and Damian were close seconds and Micah only just behind, though even that was a more recent development that had required significant effort on Lettie's part; she lost time so easily she sometimes imagined her ADHD as an hourglass that only held so much sand before every plan she had could be cast away the second the final grain hit the pile.

She blinks the thought away― resolves to do a bit better when it comes to keeping up with the important people in her life― and listens patiently as Terry speaks, her head tilted just so in her aunt's direction, as if willing herself to process things just a bit more quickly; it's not always easy― every person in their family seems to either hold a stoicism in them that's genuinely impressive or speaks so quickly Lettie half feels like she's trying to process a conversation like it's an Olympic sport that practice has made just a bit easier.

"Shrikes?" She scrunches her nose― tries to picture the bird in her mind's eye, realizes she knows the name because of a Hozier song and snorts a laugh before she nods. "Those are the little guys who like, impale their prey on spikes and stuff, right? Like, if Vlad the Impaler was a tiny bird?" Her eyebrows rise to punctuate the question― as insane a question as it is, now that she's taken all of three seconds to realize what she's said and shrugs― it's not the most off-the-wall statement she's ever made and she doubts Terry will give her grief for it but it doesn't stymie the amusement sparking in her chest.

"Please ignore that that's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever said in my entire life, okay? I'm already trying to forget that I said it," she jokes, reaching back to fumble blindly with her backpack― retrieving her sketchbook with a new enthusiasm, a sudden urge to fill a few pages with studies of any birds they manage to find.

Her attention shifts back to Terry in a split second, head tilting to one side― puppy-like and endlessly curious, "I don't think so? I'd love to hear it, though― you always have interesting stories." Bias, she thinks, but it isn't one she wants to cast away or anything of the sort. She loves all of her family fiercely in her own quiet way― wishes she could be better about the... volume of it, she supposes― wishes it got easier to be more open about it but she's trying, in her own stilted way, to be better about it and if it starts with a relative she feels immense comfort around, well, that has to count for something, doesn't it?

The Lowensteins had always emoted sturdily and quietly. A product, perhaps, of living amid so much noise that they’d learned to be small in kind. Even the gestures in which they’d communicated their affection were small: texts here and there, a rare phone call, a few parting gifts—mugs, slippers, new bedsheets—that could fit into a compartment of a small suitcase on the chances someone within their ilk had chosen to move away or to say goodbye. Practical, tangible, measurable.

It was a grammar of love best suited for those who could parse through a thousand disparate pieces and to assemble the weight of the structure themselves, and only then, to assign meaning. 

Terry had gradually come to accept it, and more so in these later years, after Papa’s death. Case in point: they’d begun making use of their younger brother’s tongue-in-cheek gift of fluffy capybara slip-ons in their cabin. ‘You hate rodents, right, Terry? You’re gonna see so much of them in those woods,’ Ezra had said in that usual joking way of his, obscuring the sentimentality of the gesture, ‘so these capybara slippers are exposure therapy if you think about it.’ Flawed logic aside, there was no clear use for it, not when they’d diligently cleaned and polished the cabin’s hardwood floors every week, and, sans slippers, a rather satisfying creak followed one’s steps as they walked. The slippers themselves were decidedly impractical, but it was the intention that mattered most. 

“Migration patterns. Or the annual cycle of migratory birds,” Terry corrected, mildly, “and the best season to explore birds is still during the spring migration, though there are some interesting species in the summertime.”

Terry’s offer to hike had been a similar gesture. In truth, they were more inclined to go to the woods alone, and the Forest Lake trail in summer was proving to be inconsistent, sudden showers one hour and sweltering heat the next. And, months after the spring migration, there were few rare bird species that scoured through the Midwest’s riverlands. But it was the intention that mattered most—a gesture to invite their niece into the space they’d made for themselves, even as she was so eager to move away. 

The topic of birds, of course, was undertaken with a severity typically reserved for an academic interest. Fun birds?  They could certainly try to pick out their favorites. “Right now, it’s—black-bellied whistling-ducks, cerulean warblers, loggerhead shrikes. The last one might be a bit difficult to find, because they mostly perch in open country. So that would entail a road trip instead of a trail hike,” they hummed as they stacked another blueprint tube into the shelf, “I think you might like shrikes, Lettie. They’re very small, intimidating creatures. Did you know they are called butcherbirds? Very fitting for us, no?”

Though when it came to those more morbid thoughts, Terry digressed that Micah would be the better companion—and shifted gears about a moment later. “But I might have seen a cerulean warbler in my hike some weeks past.” They recalled the blue songbird, with its cerulean neck band and its white, almost cloud-like, breast. It almost resembled a patch of sky amid the green forest canopy. Taking another blueprint tube from the box, Terry continued, “they’ve got a rapid, buzzy song about them. Staccato-like.” Another hum in thought. “I wonder if it’s worth the trip…”

Their line of thought was disrupted, though, by Lettie making a familiar quip, and the comparison elicited a few chuckles out of them. “I can see it. I suppose now that I’m retired, I’ve resolved to suck the marrow out of life. Thoreau Lowenstein feels a bit too on the nose, though,” they slid in another tube to the shelf, “I should finish this box first, and then we can go.” The box was all but empty now, anyway, save for a few more tubes, all fairly identical from each other, like little logs of timber, save for the one clad in a deep leather case.

“Oh!” They exclaimed as a memory stirred, pulling them decades into the past, “Did I ever tell you the story about my first building?”

[scribbuluswrites]

The Choice

It’s Friday. And... I’m ready to pretend I’ll get a day off! I’ve got a mountain of chores and the longest practice exam to get through.

As always, thank you for coming along on this journey with me. We’re getting closer to the end now! All of your comments, reblogs, and general interactions mean so much to me. These things keep your local writer writing. :)

Coco opened and closed cabinets in his kitchen. Letti had an annoying habit of leaving any and all food containers empty in the pantry. She didn’t replace things or put them on the list. 

He finally found a box with cereal still in it, but then he noticed the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. Coco heaved a sigh, starting to write another angry post-it to leave her. It wouldn’t help, but he still felt like he was accomplishing something. 

He gave up on breakfast and got ready for his shift at the yard. Between the lack of tidiness in his apartment, and Kat’s business trip, Coco had been in a bad mood for nearly a week. 

“Damn, still no sunshine at casa de Coco?” EZ asked, grinning at the dark frown on Coco’s face as he shrugged on his work shirt. 

“Hey Prospect, why don’t you wash my bike?” Coco replied, hurling his keys at the younger Reyes. EZ caught them with a snort, shaking his head at Coco. 

“Coco,” Bishop’s voice chimed in. Coco closed his eyes, reminding himself not to throw attitude at the President. 

“‘Sup, Pres?” he asked, turning to face him. 

“I know you’re supposed to be here all day, but I need you on a run with Angel.”

Normally Coco would jump at the chance to take a ride instead of working at the scrap yard, but he wasn’t sure he could handle an extended period of time with Angel. He’d gotten a little less hostile, but Coco could still tell that he was Angel’s least favourite Mayan.

Coco opened his mouth to mention that, but Bishop cut him off. “I don’t give a shit about your personal issues. I need you to make a delivery to Oakland,” Bishop explained, giving Coco a look that made the younger man want to shrink back. Bishop might be a lot shorter, but he was definitely more muscular and definitely able to kick Coco’s ass. 

Aside from that, he owed Bishop his respect. Coco was loyal to the patch regardless of feelings or drama. 

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed, nodding. “Think I could stay an extra day? My girl’s in San Francisco for another two weeks.” 

“You good with that?” Bishop asked, talking to Angel as he joined them. Coco moved to the side, watching as Angel stepped up beside him. 

He could see the argument in Angel’s eyes, but he didn’t mention it, instead gesturing to his little brother. “It’s fine. We’ll take Prospect along since he’s got parole paperwork to pick up in Stockton. I’ll ride out there with him, and Coco can stay in SanFran. We’ll catch up the next day and ride back.” 

Bishop nodded. “Just keep your heads down. We don’t need anyone knowing we’re riding through, alright?” 

Coco and Angel both nodded. They glanced at each other as Bishop walked away, making a silent agreement to let their issues go for now. Club business came first. 

Angel told EZ they were heading out, giving him all the pertinent details. The Prospect didn’t ask any questions, packing up bedrolls and guns for their trip. As the lowest person in the pecking order, he was the one left to get things ready.

The ride up went smoothly. They didn’t encounter any trouble or other bikers, so they decided to take a break just after the halfway point. Coco was starving, and he definitely wouldn’t complain about stopping for lunch. 

“So you actually got papers to pick up?” Coco asked, stuffing his face with a fast food burger. It was easier to put EZ on the spot rather than trying to ask Angel any questions. 

EZ glanced over at Angel, clearly wanting to tell Coco something. It felt like there was something they were hiding. 

Coco looking at each of them, grunting in annoyance. “All that shit with Adelita, and you still ain’t trust me with this?” 

Angel sighed, knowing his brother was right. He motioned for EZ to start talking. The main friction between them was dead now, and Angel didn’t see a real point to keep Coco out now.

“How much do you know about Happy Lowman?” EZ started, wondering what Katarina might have told him. 

“The Son?” Coco asked, pressing for the Reyes brothers to be the first to share information. 

“He and Kat were together,” Angel said bluntly, scoffing at the look EZ shot him. “Look, you told her she had to tell him. If she hadn’t yet, that's on her, bro.” 

Coco nodded slowly. “She said you broke into his house. Didn’t say why, though.” He took a drink of his soda, watching the silent conversation the brothers had in front of him. 

“That was my idea,” EZ admitted. “He killed my mom. I was trying to figure out why, but things didn’t really go to plan.” 

“Yeah, your bitch fuckin’ stabbed me,” Angel interjected. Coco reached across the table, grabbing the front of his shirt. Angel cocked his fist back, but EZ got between them. 

Coco let go, but he stayed tense. “Look, motherfucker, that’s my old lady, and you owe her respect. I don’t give a fuck what you think about it or her. Don’t talk about her like that again,” he snapped, his eyes fiery as he stared Angel down. 

“Damn, bro, ok,” Angel nodded, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He didn’t look very apologetic, but Coco could tell that he was trying to accept it. “She protected the man who murdered my mom. It’s just hard to get past,” he admitted, relaxing his shoulders. 

“She also told us who pointed him that way,” EZ countered. “Kat told us who was behind it, and she convinced Happy to get us some paperwork on it. He left a ledger for us in Charming.” 

Coco nodded, realising why they were trying to keep this so secret from the club. There were two big reasons why they wouldn’t want the Mayans finding out. Either they knew the trouble it would cause to insinuate that Katarina knew a Son that well and was willing to share information, or the cartel were the ones aiming the gun at EZ’s family. 

EZ leaned forward, knowing what Coco must be thinking. “Kat sort of stumbled on the information in her own way. She made it really clear that nothing came directly from Happy. I guess she got caught between him and the cartel, and…” he paused, letting Coco fill in the rest. 

“And she figured it out because she’s Kat,” he said, piecing together her scars and Angel’s story she wouldn’t tell. 

Coco was tired of talking about this. He was glad they’d let him in on what they were up to, but he just didn’t like chatting about her past. 

“She’s got my back now, so you better watch out, Angelita,” he joked, chuckling at the look on Angel’s face. 

“Fuck, bro. She’s terrifying,” he admitted, ignoring his brother’s laughter. 

“Speak of the devil,” Coco grinned, holding up his phone, Kat’s name on the screen. “Hey, querida. I got a surprise for you,” he said, answering the phone. He got up and walked a few paces away, not wanting them to hear his entire conversation. 

EZ and Angel watched him as he paced a little, a smile on his face the entire time he was on the phone. Angel shook his head in disbelief, shocked to see Coco of all people going gooey like this. 

“Oh, man. Coco’s got it bad,” EZ teased, giving Coco shit almost as soon as he got back to the table. 

“She owns you, bro,” Angel added. 

“Fuck yeah, she does,” Coco replied, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t even ashamed,” he laughed. “I’m tryna get her to move in. Just gotta wear her down.” 

Angel made a whipcrack noise, bumping EZ’s shoulder. Coco raised an eyebrow, and EZ immediately held his hands up. He knew Coco was not embarrassed about his sex life, and he would not hesitate to give some very graphic details. 

“Don’t tell us about it,” he said quickly, looking at his watch. “We better get back on the road.” 

“Yeah, we don’t want Coco to upset his Dom by being late,” Angel sniped, tossing his arm around Coco’s neck as they walked back to their bikes. 

After their drop off, Coco split off from the group, heading west to San Francisco. Katarina had given him the address for her hotel, and Coco was trying his best to remember the directions he’d looked up earlier. 

He breathed in the sea air as he drove along the coast for a bit, the hotels and restaurants becoming steadily nicer as he went. Small chains and motels gave way to big, glass skyscrapers as he turned inland again, heading downtown. 

“Jesus,” Coco breathed, looking up at the massive tower of the Four Seasons. Kat had told him just to park his motorcycle in front of the hotel and let the valet take care of it. They didn’t allow guests in the garage.

He walked into the lobby, looking around for Katarina. The elevators required keys to get to the higher floors, and she was staying right at the top. The people working behind the check-in desk eyed him suspiciously as he waited, his kutte and boots definitely sticking out.

“Help, there’s a hoodlum in the lobby,” Katarina said, her happy voice pulling Coco away from the chandelier he’d been studying. There was a wide smile on her face as she skipped across the lobby, tossing her arms around his neck. 

Coco kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks. He held her tightly against him, dipping her a little as his lips tasted her. Kat was practically breathless as he finally pulled back, grinning at her dreamy expression. He’d started to associate that with the rare occasions when he could leave her speechless. 

“Food?” she asked, blinking as Coco tilted his head to look at her. “Dinner,” she corrected, clearing her throat. “Would you like to get dinner at the hotel restaurant?” Katarina was mildly embarrassed that it had taken three attempts to get such a simple question out. 

“Nah,” he replied, grinning brightly. “Room service, dulce,” he suggested, running his hands down her back. Coco brushed his nose against hers, his hands grabbing her ass. 

Someone behind the desk cleared their throat, and Katarina stepped back, pulling Coco’s hand away and linking their fingers. She led him over to the elevators. She inserted her keycard once they stepped in, pressing the button for the 46th floor. 

Coco thought about trying to fool around in the elevator, but it moved considerably faster than he’d expected. He hadn’t been in many tall buildings like this, and the sensation was a little disorienting. His ears popped as they zoomed up, and he leaned against the back wall for a second. 

He followed after her to a room marked Presidential Suite, his jaw dropping as Kat opened the door. He’d never seen anything like this before. 

“Shit, this place is…” he trailed off, walking over to the terrace he’d just noticed. 

“It’s pretty ridiculous,” Kat agreed, following him out into the cool night air. 

“You can afford this?” he asked, his eyes poring over the view. The Golden Gate bridge was partially hidden in the clouds, but he could still see it and the bay beyond. “I mean, I knew your business did well, but this is kinda a whole different level.” 

“God, no. I definitely couldn’t afford this place,” Kat explained, shaking her head with a laugh. “Remember I told you I was going to talk to a company about partnering? They asked me to stay another week after the conference and come out to see their whole operation. That’s who’s footing the bill for all of this.” 

Coco’s eyes were huge as he looked over at her. “Damn, they must really want you to move up here.” 

“I think they do,” she admitted, nodding. “It’s actually a really interesting company. They’ve got some cutting edge stuff.” 

Coco felt a pit in his stomach as he realised Kat wanted to take the job. He wanted her to take an opportunity like this, but he hated the idea of her living so far away. A long distance relationship was out of the question for him. 

“You gonna take it?” he asked, worried about her response. Kat shrugged. 

“No. I mean, I don’t know…” she trailed off, leaning against the\ balcony railing. “I definitely wasn’t going to give them an answer without talking to you.” 

“Talkin’ to me?” he echoed, stepping up to stand next to her. 

Kat grinned at him. “Coco, we’re in a relationship. I’m not going to move without talking to you first.” 

“You didn’t want to move in yet, so I wasn’t sure where we stood,” he confessed, swallowing. Katarina reached over to take his hand, pulling him over to the little couch outside. “Why does it feel like we’re about to ‘talk’?” he asked, using air quotes. 

“Because we are,” Kat replied, still holding onto his hand as they sat next to each other. “I want this. I really do, but I have to be honest with you. This job would be incredible. It would further my business in a way I can’t even imagine, and it would get me completely away from the cartel. That would be great for both of us,” she explained, feeling Coco start to shut down. 

“I don’t want some long distance bullshit,” he muttered, shaking his head. He saw Kat nodding out of the corner of his eye. “The club is my family, querida. I can’t walk away from that.” 

“I know,” she admitted. “I got a little swept up in all of this,” she grinned softly, gesturing to the city around them. “I’ll tell them it’s a no,” Kat said, knowing it was a no for right now, not forever. Things changed, businesses expanded. 

“Wait, you’re gonna turn all this down? For me?” he asked, his head snapping up as he heard her. 

“For us, yeah. Besides, they want more control than I want to give up.” Kat wondered why Coco was still quiet. His eyes flicked over her face, but he somehow didn’t look totally convinced. Katarina let go of his hand, moving to cup his cheek. “I love you, Coco. I’m not going to walk away from that.” 

Coco looked startled, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. It was then Katarina realised she hadn’t told him that yet. She’d let him know she was present, but she hadn’t told him those three little words. 

Kat knew how much they meant; how keeping them away could leave someone unsure and unconvinced that it was long-term. No matter how much else you said, those words were more. She realised she was acting just like Happy had, and it was the last time she’d let a parallel like that happen. 

Tags: @gemini0410 @scuzmunkie @woahitslucyylu @chibsytelford @withmyteeth

(my taglist is so far out of date. If you’d like to be added or dropped, please let me know!)

[whosscruffylooking]

Promotion (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

oh geez...this is my first time ever publishing my writing, especially a reader insert. a little cheat sheet: any time the writing is in bold and is italicized, it’s the readers inner monologue (aka my thought process while writing 🤪)

Warnings: None. Angst? Maybe? And then some fluff at the end.

Words: 1.4k

“Although Freud said happiness is composed of love and work, reality often forces us to choose love or work.” -Letty Cottin Pogrebin

Perhaps it was the speed at which his heel was tapping against the floor of his office, the pale color of his knuckles as his grip tightened around his pen, or the way he anxiously kept running his hands through his hair.

God, I'd love to run my hands through his hair. Now is not the time.

For the past twenty minutes, you've found yourself captivated by your boss's troubled appearance. Aaron Hotchner is notorious for being stoic and virtually unreadable. He once stared down the barrel of George Foyet's gun and boasted that he wasn't afraid of him. But here he was, visibly distraught, and all you want to is run to his aid. That's all you've wanted to do for the past three years that you've been a profiler with the BAU.

In all fairness, Aaron was a very closed-off man. He rarely brought his work home with him and never brought his home life to work. Somehow though, you've managed to break that barrier. Even if only slightly. You'd been there for him in his darkest hours, refusing to let him push you away because you knew that if you'd allowed that, he'd suppress himself to death.

Much to your surprise, he didn't put up much of a fight. Instead, he opened himself and his home up to you. He let himself be vulnerable, and he let you help him explore the dark inner workings of his mind. You did so without trepidation, and slowly, you found yourself falling in love with him. You knew the feelings weren't reciprocated, though. At least, you told yourself that. In some twisted way, you'd reasoned that if you refused to acknowledge that he may feel the same, it would make it easier to deny yourself the ability to love your superior. It's wrong. Unprofessional. It could only end in disaster.

Yet, here you are, timidly knocking on the door to his office. Your heart is beating out of your chest, your hands clammy, your teeth drawing blood from your bottom lip.

"Come in," his husky voice mumbles.

Opening the door, you make your way to the chair across from him at his desk. You cross your legs and anxiously pick at the skin around your nails. He looks up from his paperwork, his bloodshot eyes meeting yours, "Can I help you?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, "I can tell somethings wrong, Hotch. You finished your reports an hour ago, and for the past twenty minutes, you've been staring at the same piece of paper, agonizing over it. I haven't seen you like this since-"

Since the divorce papers.

You shake your head, choosing to gloss over that thought, "Is everything okay?"

Silence pierces the air. A pit forms in your stomach. A glossy haze clouds Aaron's eyes, and a small gasp escapes your lips as you notice it.

"Aaron? Aaron, what's the matter? What's on the paper?"

"It's my letter of recommendation for you. You've been chosen as a candidate for the Counterintelligence Division."

You freeze and stare at him with wide eyes. Unable to gather your thoughts or formulate the right words, or any comments for that matter, you sit in silence with him.

Wait. His eyes were watering. Why would he be tearing up?

He's the Unit Chief; his job is to lead his team and hopefully mentor them into a position where they can advance when fit. In fact, he told you after your first year with the unit that he could see you achieving the goal of progressing to Counterintelligence and eventually to FITF.

Is he not happy for me? Proud of me? Of course, he is. He's always wanted me to succeed. This couldn't possibly be because...oh. Me too, Aaron. Me too.

You take a deep breath. Someone has to break the silence...again.

"When would I find out whether or not I got the promotion?"

"First, you would go through a series of interviews and tests before solidifying your position. My recommendation is merely to give my stamp of approval for your transfer."

You let out a stumbled scoff, "Right. You are just giving me your permission to leave. And that's what you want? For me to leave?"

He furrows his brow, "That's not what I meant. You know that."

"Do I, Aaron?"

The honorable and upright team leader reluctantly turns the piece of paper around, pointing out the empty signature line.

"This is what I've been agonizing over. I'm torn y/n because, on the one hand, all I want is for you to live your life with no regrets. To achieve all that you've worked so hard for. And on the other hand, all I want is for you to stay here with me..." he stutters, "With us. The team."

Did SSA Aaron Hotchner just say he wants me to stay with him?

A pink hue paints his cheeks, and you feel yours heat up to match his. You're in disbelief. In one night, it's as if all of the things you've ever wanted have come to fruition, and yet you realize that you can't successfully have them all. Being in Counterintelligence would take you away from your home, your family, the man you're in love with. But if you stay with the BAU, you can only imagine the repression of dating your supervisor; Strauss would not make your life and job easy. You need to make a choice.

Tears sting your eyes, and you can feel your heart yearn for the man sitting across from you.

"Aaron, can I do something wholly unprofessional and beyond all sound reason?"

Aaron narrows his eyes, trying to read exactly what your motives are; his posture straightens as he recognizes your shared longing. He quickly nods and stands up. You mirror his actions and meet him halfway.

Whoa. He's tall. Very tall. And his face is very close to mine.

With bated breath, you gaze into each other's eyes as if asking for permission one last time. It's now or never. As if in complete synchronization, you both lean into one another, claiming each other's lips. He gasps softly, earning a slight chuckle from you. Your entire body tingles, and his hands find their way around your waist, squeezing your hips softy.

He's good at this. Too good. I'm not complaining though.

It's as if his lips are a paintbrush and yours are his canvas. You should pull away, but you're being held captive by his touch. It's as if you both have been starved for year's and your hunger is finally being satisfied. Nothing could taint this moment.

Except...lungs. Stupid, lungs gasping for air.

Forced to separate yourself from him, you touch your forehead to his, determined not to break all contact.

His smile glistens as a small laugh escapes his lips, "You have terrible timing. I had finally convinced myself to sign the document."

You adamantly shake your head, "No. No, I don't want you to sign it. I want to stay. Stay here with the team. I want to stay here with you."

He clears his throat, his voice hoarse, "This job opportunity is too good to pass up y/n."

"No, Aaron Hotchner, you are too good to pass up," you say, pressing your palms to his chest and peering into his beautiful chestnut eyes.

"Well then," he pushes a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, "Looks like I get to boss you around for a little while longer." A devilish smirk spreads across his face.

"Not too fast. I do have an idea of something else you could sign for me."

"And what's that?"

"A check for a raise?"

A hearty laugh echoes from his chest through his office, "I'm gonna kiss you again instead."

"Oh yeah?" You smile, lacing your fingers around his neck.

"Oh yeah." He encloses his lips on yours once more.

It's in that moment when his scent is filling your lungs, his touch imprinting on your skin, and his lips leaving you addicted and craving more that you realize you made the right choice.

No job or promotion could ever give you the feeling you have right now in Aaron's arms. You have never felt more alive than you do exploring your love for Aaron. The best promotion is going from being on the outside of his life to being the one that fills his heart.

[twistnet]

coco cruz dating a younger so would include

WARNINGS ─ gn!reader + general fluff

first, coco is hesitant to go into any kind of relationship, seeing as any that he’s had in the past have always gonna up in smoke. he boils this down to that anything he touches is just going to rot away and die

second, based on the the first note, he’s cautious that with dating someone younger than him. someone who hasn’t quite yet experienced the world and he doesn’t want to fuck them up. so many things in his life just scream at him that he’s never going to amount to something and all the horrible shit that happened to him will end up being pushed onto you.

third, he’s got kids. specifically, one who’s almost an adult and has quite a say in his life. he’s definitely not going to go around dating someone who’s only a couple years older than letty, cause that’s just fucked up to him [ for reference, coco’s actor, richard cabral is 37 ] i would say that he’s probably going to steer away from anyone younger than 10 years his junior. anything lower is just too close to comfort

if you somehow manage to worm your way in this man’s heart, he will, in the end, pursue a relationship with you. that, and nothing is sexier than someone willing to fight for you

the relationship will progress slowly, coco trying to get use the the fact the one) he’s dating someone and two) that someone is a little younger than him. this is something new to him, and he doesn’t really want to fuck it up completely or make a total fool out of himself. so just give him some time to get adjusted

he does keep the aspect of your relationship a secret until he feels like he can say something about it. this is another part of him that just wants to make sure you are in this for the long run and aren’t going to leave him in the end.

that, and he can’t stand the possible teasing he is going to get from his brothers once he announces the relationship with you and they found out you’re younger than him. and the longer he can put that off is good in his book.

however, meeting his brother’s is probably one of the most welcoming interactions you’ve probably ever done in your lifetime. all of his brother’s and their respective significant others were more than welcoming, more so after finding out that you and coco had been dating for about six months before he finally told them about you. it meant that you were someone he was serious about

of course, coco was still teased later on, when one of the wives had managed to get you to join them in a round of pool and all you heard was laughter and just good times and paid no mind to coco as he was having fun. you felt bad later when he told you that he had gotten teased about dating you. but he wasn’t bothered by it. by now, he was use to it

however, the big step was meeting his daughter, letty. you had always respected the boundary coco had set at the beginning of the relationship. you couldn’t stay the night, as letty was living with him. so you never ended up meeting letty as all of your dates where places outside of the home

letty knew of you and had been itching to meet you ever since her dad had started dating again. but she also pestered the shit out of him every time he brought you up and also said something like, “ well i wouldn’t know, i’ve never met them” queue coco’s glare

meeting letty was probably easier than originally thought, most likely because you worried yourself to death as this was his kid and in your eyes, she had all the say in if this relationship went further. coco could stop seeing you, he couldn’t stop seeing his own daughter, at least not again.

letty took to you like a bee to a flower, instantly asking you all sorts of questions, more about you than about your relationship with her dad. she truly wanted to get to know you and see what you were really like

it warmed coco’s heart to see that letty had taken to you so easily and watching the two of you hit it off really cemented the relationship. more so, when letty came to him a week later and said she was going to the mall. when he asked who she was going with, she told him that you were taking her [ after hearing from you how much he dreaded going, but went because letty asked him to ] and she jumped at the chance to get some true fashion advice

overall, the relationship is one that takes time, and if you are willing to take the time to commit, coco is willing to make the relationship work for the two of you

[breanime]

Replaceable

(A Crime Family AU Drabble)

Though he'd never say it outloud, Miguel knew the truth: he was entirely dependent on Eve. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t function without her or anything, it was just that she made every single thing in his life easier, more enjoyable, brighter. It was just...

...he was in love with her.

The revelation wasn’t new to Miguel, of course. Though he kept his feelings for his best friend close to the vest, he knew that he loved her. He’d known for years. But he also knew that she was too good for him (for anyone, really), so he kept his feelings to himself and just enjoyed having her around.

Until he kind of fired her.

“Miguel,” Eve had sighed, her delicate hands on her ample hips, “I thought we talked about this; there’s an easier way to balance those accounts.”

“I like doing it this way,” Miguel had said back, not looking up from his files. He’d been in a mood that day; there was too much to do and not enough time to do it. He’d felt like he was being pulled in ten different directions, and he was starting to crack under the pressure--a clear loss in his eyes. So he had no patience for his assistant’s advice.

“I know you do,” she went on, “but I’m telling you, there’s a better way. If you just take the first column and open a new Excel sheet--”

“--I’m doing it the way I’ve always done it,” he’d said, his tone brisk, “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, sensing his souring mood and having no patience for it, “Well, while you do that, do you want me to call the Italians?”

He looked up then, his eyebrows furrowed, pen stilled in his hand. “Why would you need to call the Italians?”

“Because it’s the third week of the month, and they still haven’t paid their dues from last month,” she reminded him.

Miguel cursed internally. He was supposed to keep track of that; he was supposed to handle that. “I’ll do it.”

“I don’t mind,” she said brightly, shrugging a shoulder as she turned to go to her desk, giving him a nice view of her incredibly distracting ass, “You have a lot on your plate so--”

“I said I’ll do it,” he ground out, annoyed with himself for forgetting in the first place, and slightly turned on by Eve even though she hadn’t even done anything--she just had that effect on him. 

She turned, a perfectly arched eyebrow raised at the tone in his voice. “Miguel,” she said carefully, “You have a pile of forms in front of you, a mountain of files, and you still need to approve the new secretary’s PTO time, plus you have to resubmit the letter of intent to the adoption agency for Angel. Let me do this one thing.”

“I don’t need you to do it,” he said, knowing full and damn well he did need her to do it, “And I don’t need you to list my agenda to me, I already know,” he went on, “What I need is for you to do your damn job and stop worrying about mine.” 

He saw the flash of irritation in her eyes then, and he knew he was pushing it. “Excuse me?” She said slowly, giving him one last chance to backpedal.

Which of course, he didn’t take.

“You’ve forgotten your role here,” he bit out, “You’re my assistant, not my partner. You get coffee and make appointments and do the busy work I don’t have the time or care to do. I’m in charge here, and you? You’re replaceable.”

There had been a silence then, thick and heavy, as the two of them stared at each other, both of their hearts pounding. Finally, she spoke.

“Fuck you, Miguel.”

And then she was gone.

That had been three days ago, and everything in Miguel’s life had gone to shit since then. Spooky had talked to him, told him to “be a man” and admit he was wrong. Coco and Didi weren’t speaking to him at all. Rio spoke to him and called him “an entitled ass”, and Angel added that he was a “douchebag”, so there was that. But Miguel was a proud man, and he wasn’t ready to admit that he was, in fact, an entitled ass and a douchebag, even though he missed Eve.

He missed her professionally: her wit, her charm, the way she could read him and provide whatever he needed, whether he verbalized his need or not. But more than that, he missed her. He missed seeing her everyday, he missed the smell of her perfume, the sound of her laughter, that knowing smile she would give him...

...He missed his best friend. He missed the woman he loved.

So he drank and stewed in his office, the blinds drawn and calls going unanswered. Miguel was prepared to spend the rest of the night there when a tiny knock caught his attention. 

Letty cracked the door open slowly, her dark pigtails swinging as she peeked around the door. Miguel sat up, sliding his drink behind a stack of papers. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s up? Did your Daddy fall asleep during storytime again?”

“No,” she answered, coming into the office and climbing into his lap, looking up at him with those big eyes of hers, “Tio Miguel, will Ms. Eve be here soon? She was helping me with my numbers, and we’re almost to a hundred!”

Miguel felt his heart break then. God, Eve was such an integral part of his life, his grand-niece was asking about her, and... 

...he needed her. Now.

Miguel drove to Eve’s house--he’d made one quick stop--and pulled into her driveway with his heart pounding. He had a key to her place, just like she had a key to his, but he didn’t use it. Instead he knocked, giving her the option to ignore him because, honestly... It was what he deserved.

But she proved, once again, that she was a better person than he was, and she opened the door.

And Miguel’s knees went weak at the sight of her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, needing to get the words out, “I’m so sorry, I was being a dick, and an ass, and a douchebag, and I was taking shit out on you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m helpless without you, I’m useless without you. And I don’t just mean at work--I mean in every way possible. Being around you makes me a better man, Eve. It does. It always has. Besides the kids, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I don’t deserve you. I know I don’t, but dammit, I want you,” his eyes were boring into hers, and he could feel his chest tightening the more he spoke, “I want you so bad, Eve. I want to show you how much you mean to me, how much I adore you, because I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I’m sorry that I spoke to you like that, and I’m sorry I acted like that, I never should have--”

She interrupted him with a kiss.

Miguel had spent countless hours fantasizing about kissing Eve, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. She was perfect; her plump lips against his, her body so close to his, the flowers bunched up between them. He didn’t know how, but they ended up against the wall, lips and tongues colliding, and he was getting painfully hard.

She pulled back, and both of them laughed, breathing heavily.

“I love you too,” she said before kissing him again.

Miguel spent the night with Eve, showing her how much he adored her with every touch, every kiss, and every caress. She was a masterpiece, and he was beyond grateful to have the privilege of being able to hold her. He watched her sleep, and in the morning, she woke him up with a kiss.

Later (much later), when the two of them walked into his home together, Miguel with a huge grin on his face and Eve with a noticeable limp, the kids noticed immediately.

“FINALLY!” Didi yelled, throwing her hands up in excitement.

“Yo, I knew this would happen!” Spooky added, grinning over at the laughing couple. 

“That make-up sex is a whole ‘nother level, ain’t it?” Rio smirked.

“Look at that grin,” Coco pointed at Miguel, “Have some shame,Tio! You dirty slut!”

“Aw, man,” Angel groaned, “Eve, mi amor, what about us? You traded down, girl!”

Miguel rolled his eyes, kissing Eve on the cheek. “Coffee, my love?” He asked softly.

She smiled up at him, and it was only because of his immature audience that Miguel didn’t swoon. “Yes please.”

Miguel went to make the coffee, smiling as his niece and nephews continued to hound him. He heard Letty upstairs yell “What’s all that noise?!”, and he laughed. 

He had his family and the woman he loved, and he had never been happier.

*******************************************************************************************

Please please PLEASE let me know what you think! It got longer than I had expected it too, but I’m happy with it. Let me know if you liked it or not, and if you’d be interested in me writing any other little blurbs for the Crime Family AU! Thanks guys! I’m gonna go eat some pomegranates now, lol

[omnivorousshipper]

De aged Fic Part 5

Part 4

Hattie scowled down at her phone when it rang loudly, interrupting the silence she had cultivated inside her apartment. It had been a difficult last few days, consisting of her having to eliminate several targets

She had finally arrived home, ate a simple meal and fell into bed intending to sleep for at least ten hours. But then her damn phone rang

Not recognizing the number, she had been tempted to not answer, but she knew he bosses would use burner phones

Answering, she growled

"Shaw."

"H-Hatts?"

Hattie blinked in surprise as a child's voice called out her name. Sitting up, she frowned and a cold shiver went down her spine

"Who is this?" She tried to soften her voice, but knew she still had a harsh note

"Hatts, it's me. Owen."

Hattie went numb

What?!

There was absolutely no way Owen had called her using a wobbly child's voice, on the brink of tears. There was no way he was that crazy

Right?

Took caught up trying to think how ridiculous her brother could be, Hattie didn't respond soon enough and prompting the child to go off on a tangent

"I don't know what's happening, Hatts. I woke up all wet and cold, and these people took me to a scary place. But this nice lady, Letty, gave me her jacket and then took me out for dinner. But then I saw all these weird looking things. I think they're phones? So I stole one and tried calling Deck, but he didn't answer, do you think he doesn't like me anymore? And I tried to call you-"

Finally, the little boy took a deep breath. But before he could keep going, Hattie spoke up

"Owen, where are you right now?"

"At home."

Hattie sighed. At least that made things easier

"Owen, listen to me. I want you to stay there and I'll come and get you. Do not open the door for anyone."

"Okay."

She didn't want to hang up, just in case he did something stupid. No matter what age he was, she knew he was capable of anything

It only took her twenty minutes to arrive at their old home. None of them had lived in it for years, but she knew their mother kept it cleaned for her own personal use and business

When she arrived, she used her own key to open the door and called out

"Owen? It's Hattie!"

She listened closely until soft footsteps came to meet her

Hattie felt as if she was slapped when she spotted him

The little boy barely even came up to her hip he was so small. His hair was shaggy and long, while his clothes looked far too stylish for his age. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes

"Why are you so big?" He whispered in awe

"Because I'm an adult." Hattie said dumbly

"But I'm older than you!" Owen pouted and crossed his arms

Hattie blinked at him and felt a smile tug at her lips

"And you'll grow up to be taller than me. But right now, you're a small fry."

He narrowed his eyes at her, his pout still strong. Hattie met his gaze evenly, but inside, she was freaking out

What the hell was she going to do with a miniature version of her older brother?!

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark? (12) - Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count: 4014

Warnings: Mention of needles, swearing

Author Note: Lots of Peter, Tony, and Pepper. All my favorites. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Next update will be this weekend- after my finals are done hopefully. 

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Your dad has never seen you do a pump change or a sensor change. Honestly all the supplies live in your room so it’s just easier for you to do it there. But after Peter and him finished in the lab on Friday, Pepper asked Peter if he wanted to stick around for dinner, which then turned into him staying to watch a movie with you, Pepper, and Tony. But in the middle of Labyrinth, which is your favorite movie, your sensor fails. “Goddamn it Wallace.” You mutter looking at your phone screen, displaying the replace sensor now message as Chilly Down plays in the background.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks you before speaking to FRIDAY. “FRI- pause the movie.” Sarah and all the swamp creatures, if you can call them that stop moving as your dad’s attention is focused on you. “You high? You low? Tell me what’s happening?” He asks.

“Sensor failed. Like five days early too.” You reach under your shirt and pull off the sensor that isn’t doing anything for your now. But your nails trace over where the sensor had been. “But the only good thing is I can scratch the itch that has been driving me bonkers.” You admit.

“So what do you need?” You dad has turned his hyperfocus on, but this isn’t something you can’t handle.

“I just have to grab the stuff to change it. Give me like five minutes and I can change it while we watch the movie.”

“I’ll grab some more drinks for everyone while we do.” Pepper says with a smile. “And maybe make some more popcorn too.”

Walking into your bedroom, you open the drawer that’s filled with all your supplies. You grab the four things you need: the sensor, alcohol wipes, a Skin Tac wipe, and an over patch. Oh shit! Your transmitter was supposed to last through this last sensor, so you’ll have to replace that one too. Picking everything up in your hands you make your way back down towards the living room. 

“Got enough stuff kiddo?” Your dad asks as you sit back down.

“You should see what it looks like when I have to do a double site change. So much more trash.” You notice Peter has your old sensor in his hand and is turning it over, looking at it from all the angles.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he notices you staring at him. “I just found it interesting.”

“It doesn’t bug me. It’s trash now.” You lift it from his hand and snap out the transmitter. “This comes apart, since normally you reuse the transmitter for three months at a time. But that one bit the dust with the sensor failing.” You explain before motioning towards the box with the new one. 

“And this whole thing reads your sugars?” You nod.

“That wire there gets inserted under the skin into this tissue or something that my lack of science can’t explain. But it reads your fluids or stuff that’s there and reports that data through the transmitter to my pump and to my phone.”

“Do you feel the wire under your skin?” Peter asks.

“Nope. The most I feel from the whole sensor is if I like lay on it wrong, or if I start reacting to the adhesive. Or if I place it in a spot and a door rips it off. That fucking hurts.” You think back to the last time that a door ripped your sensor off and wince slightly.

“Hold on, go back. You react to the adhesive?” Your dad’s voice is suddenly concerned.

“Well I’m allergic to latex and some other adhesives so every now and then I react to the Dexcom adhesive.” You shrug. “That’s why I use these.” You hold up the over patch and the Skin Tac. “They produce barriers and help it stay on long enough.”

“You’re allergic to your medical device and yet you still wear it?” Your dad voices his concern.

“It’s either that or wake up multiple times a night to check my sugars. I’ll take some hives and blisters over that. I like sleeping.” You say with a shrug. Opening the bag that holds the sensor, you lay out all the things that you need for this sensor change. You wipe down your thigh with the alcohol wipe before taking the transmitter out of the box so you can pair it. While it works on pairing, you take the Skin Tac wipe and wipe down the skin so the adhesive can become tacky. While it’s drying, you break off the safety handle off of the sensor. 

“What the fuck kiddo? That needle is like six inches long?” Your dad exclaims, seeing it through the plastic inserter.

“Yeah, it has to be so that it can get deep enough for the sensor to work. But it gets pulled out. I can go in the other room if the needle thing is going to be an issue?” You sometimes forget that other people aren’t as calm around needles as you are after ten years of being a diabetic.

“No it’s fine. Stay where you are. I just thought it was something that you like placed on your skin.”

“But how would the wire get into the tissues?” You ask rhetorically. You pull the papers that are blocking the adhesive and lie it down where you want the sensor to go. You’re not going to say anything to Peter or your dad, because their eyes are already on you, but you actually hate plunging this needle down. Place the sensor in the wrong spot and it hurts badly as it plunges through veins and nerves with no mercy. So instead of showing the fear of hoping you’ve picked a good spot, you take a breath, smile at them and say “Three, two, one,” and slam the needle down. “Motherfucker!” You exclaim as you feel it shoot through a nerve. You pull the needle out and rub at the skin around the sensor. Your dad is by your side in seconds, while Peter jumps up, not sure what is causing you pain, but doesn’t want to be the cause of more pain.

“What can I do, bambina?” Your dad asks. Peter’s arms cross as he watches as one of your eyes scrunches up as you continue to rub the same spot on your thigh. Tony’s arm wraps around you once he knows that he won’t hurt you more.

“Nothing. I picked a shit spot to put it. Hit a nerve.” You explain. You put the transmitter in clicking it in, hearing the double click to be sure. And twist off the end piece of plastic. Lastly you add the overpatch that has roses drawn on it to secure it in place. “I’m good now, I promise.” You look up at your dad, seeing that he doesn’t believe you.

“I hate seeing you in pain.”

“It’s part of diabetes. We deal with a lot of pricks.” You joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” His arms wrap around you and you’re pulled into a crushing hug. “If I could take all the pain for you, I would.” You lean into your dad’s arms. 

“Who’s to say I want you in pain?” 

“It’s my job to protect you kiddo. You’ve had enough pain. If I want to shoulder it, I should be allowed to.” You rub over the overpatch making sure it’s holding as he talks.

“Or neither of us could hurt and we could finish the best movie of all time.” You say as you hit the buttons to start the warm up period.

“What’s your number?” You shrug.

“Takes two hours to warm up. Testing kit is in my room.” Tony reaches for the drawer in the table. “Last I looked I was solid 180s. I’m fine.”

“You start feeling shaky or anything-”

“We’ll both be shocked, but yes I’ll let you know.” You look at Peter. “You going to stand for the rest of the night?” Tony’s just glad he didn’t jump onto the walls or worse the ceiling. That would have blown the whole Spider-Man thing. Instead he stays focused on the feeling of having you in his arms as Chilly Down starts to play again. He’s a little surprised that Labyrinth is your favorite movie, but he’ll take learning anything about you that he can. And this is one of those little moments that Pepper was talking about you sharing with him. So as the puppets dance around the screen, Tony’s arm holds you closer. You don’t even look up as you scoot closer and lean against his shoulder. 

As she walks back in from the kitchen, Pepper snaps a picture of you and Tony from behind the couch. The sight of you curled into his arms is something that he will want forever, but this moment, she wants to stay in as well. Seeing Tony as a dad- it makes her love him that much more.

After last night, Peter doesn’t expect to be back at the tower so soon, especially after spending two days in the lab last week with Mr. Stark, but they’re finally making progress on the new webbing solution, and Mr. Stark said “why don’t you come over tomorrow to keep working on it Pete?” And Peter wasn’t going to turn down the chance to work with Mr. Stark, or a chance to get to see you more. But what he wasn’t expecting to see when he entered the tower was you dancing around the kitchen as you cleaned it. Peter was used to doing chores, sure, what teenager wasn’t? But he never would have though Tony Stark one to make his kids clean house to earn their keep. Honestly, he would have thought Tony Stark would have had someone, or even a robot, to clean for him. However you didn’t seem that worried about cleaning. 

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hey Parker. You’re practically living here these days.” You look stunning, even though you’re just in weekend clothing of a tie-dyed shirt with the Mystery Machine printed on it that says Scooby Doo underneath, a pair of jean shorts, and your hair pulled up into a ponytail with a blue scrunchy.

“Your dad and I are trying to finish up a project.”

“Must be important for you to be giving up a Saturday to get it done.” You laugh as you pour some powder cleaner on the counter top before running a sponge over top it. You’re not on the wrong path. The new webbing solution is pretty important. 

“The paparazzi would lose their mind if they knew Y/N Stark spends her Saturdays doing chores like the rest of us peasants.”

“Celebrities, they’re just like us.” You smirk. “Unless you’re planning on grabbing a sponge and joining in, you should probably head on down to the lab.”

“See you later Y/N.” You smile as Peter heads out of the kitchen, letting the music of your playlist take over as you keep cleaning. Focusing on something other than the essay you don’t want to write for your science class is nice. Also it seems like no one has cleaned the kitchen since the fight between your dad and the rogue Avengers. Pulling the burners grates off the stove, you see grease and crumbs that could have been easier to clean had someone wrapped the grease trap with tin foil. So it’s time for some tender loving care and jamming out to Carry On My Wayward Son. 

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter says, not wanting to surprise Tony as he walks into the lab.

“Morning Pete.” Tony takes a sip of the coffee cup to his right as he looks over the numbers on his tablet. “Did you manage to get any sleep last night? Karen said you went patrolling after you left here.”

“I got some sleep.” Peter nods. “Did you? I feel like your whole family has been up since I left last night?”

“We all slept. I think Y/N might still be in bed. She was when I came down here.”

“No, she’s up, working on her chores.” Tony turns from the numbers cranking in front of him, to look at Peter with confusion marking his face.

“She doesn’t have chores.”

“Well she’s upstairs cleaning the kitchen. I just thought she was working on chores, but I guess I guessed wrong.”

“We have people that we can call in. I don’t know why she’s cleaning… You mean like with a sponge and wipes and such?” Tony asks, trying to clarify and Peter nods his head. “She must have her reasons. But I’m not making her do it.”

“I believe you.” Tony turns from the datapad or- as Peter had started calling it since Tony had started tracking Y/N’s blood sugar on it as well- his Dad-apad, 

“How do you feel about working on one of the cars while these numbers crunch? We can’t continue on the aspects to add until they finish crunching.”

“Sure Mr. Stark.”

“You can call me Tony kid.”

“I know Mr. Stark.” Tony rolls his eyes at that.

“FRI, turn on Tony Stark Can Rot.” Peter is confused at the name of the playlist, but the songs that start playing sound somewhat familiar. From what he had seen in his time working in the lab, Tony wasn’t one to name his playlists, but to name one so angrily towards himself seems unlike Tony. But Tony doesn’t seem to think anything of it as he climbs under the side of his Audi and calls out for some tools. Peter hands him the wrench and falls into the habit of working with Tony until Friday calls out a while later.

“Boss, Y/N just asked Miss Potts where the first aid kit is.” Tony goes still. 

“Stay here.” He leaves the lab without more than the two words. 

It was an injury that only you were capable of. How does someone get hurt cleaning? And a paper cut, if you could call it that, on tin foil nonetheless. You didn’t want to bother your dad when he was busy on a project with Peter. Pepper was the easier option since you just don't know where bandages are kept. “FRIDAY can you ask Pepper where we keep a first aid kit?”

A moment later, Pepper is coming down the stairs with one in hand. “We keep a few all over the house. This is from the upstairs bathroom. What did you do?”

“Paper-ish cut.” You should her, removing the paper towel you’re holding over the cut that is bleeding still. “The tin foil attacked me.” You explain as she looks at the small cut.

“Why are we needing first aid kits? No one should be getting hurt.” Your dad’s voice comes from the doorway to the lab and you roll your eyes. Of course FRIDAY had told him. 

“Tattletale.” You mutter as Pepper wraps the bandage around your finger.

“If people are asking for first aid kits, I want to know.” Tony defends himself.

“I cut myself on tin foil. It was stupid. I’m fine.”

“Ok, then do you want to explain what’s with the deep cleaning? Peter literally thought I gave you chores. Which is not something that I would make you do. Plus you know we have people who can be called in to clean right?”

“That such a spoiled right person thing to say, you know that right?” You say with a roll of your eyes. 

“Avoiding the question.”

“Actually I’m avoiding a biology paper. So I figured cleaning would be a good avoidance technique.”

“Next time you’re avoiding SI business, can you take a page out of her book?” Pepper asks Tony in a teasing tone. 

“I build things. It’s productive in it’s own way.”

“You destroy things. That’s different.” Pepper points out. “What’s your biology paper about?” 

“Some life cycle bullshit or something.” You turn back to scrub the counter. “I’ve dealt with enough of it that I don’t want to do it. But my choice is write a paper or build a model and that’s not my go to.” You choose to not explain that it’s literally over the one lifecycle of yours that doesn’t work.

“You have a choice to build something and you went against that? Pep, we need to get her tested to make sure she’s my kid.”

“Tony, she literally acts and looks like you. I don’t need to test her DNA to know she’s yours.” 

“Is everything ok? Someone dying?” Peter’s voice comes.

“No one’s dying. Just my dad overreacting.” You say. “He could have gone back to the lab ages ago.”

“Why don’t you come with?” Tony suggests and both you and Peter look at him in surprise. However only you voice your surprise. Peter is trying to figure out how to hide Spider-Man if you come down to the lab.

“Why?”

“Because there’s plenty of stuff down there to make a- if I say so myself- bitchin’ science project.”

“But I can also just stay up here and write a paper after I avoid it for a few more hours?”

“Which project is it?” Peter asks, trying to figure out who you have for your science this year.

“Never said I was doing the project.”

“No one ever chooses to do the paper when they have the option to do a project instead.”

“There’s always the chance to be the first.”

“But you’ll score higher with a project. At least there’s the chance to anyway, depending on who your teacher is.”

“Shah.”

“Mr. or Mrs.?” Peter asks.

“Why does that make a difference?”

“Because they grade completely differently.” Peter explains. “Mrs does great experiments but is a harsher grader.”

“Well, I have Mr. Shah so what does that mean?”

“It means you better get started on your project. He hates papers.” Peter says with a tight smile.

“Ugh. But writing a paper all about me was going to be a sinch.” Three pairs of eyes fall on you in confusion. “Endocrine system. Explaining how pretending to be one sucks. It was going to be a great paper.”

“Isn’t there a company that’s in the process of trying to make a closed loop system?” Peter asks, which makes you nod hesitantly. “Why not make a project showing the differences between a closed loop system and what you’re currently doing? Explain why a closed loop system would be so much better.”

“Sorry, maybe I’m the only one lost here-” Pepper starts to ask.

“You’re not.” Tony interrupts.

“-But what’s a closed loop system?” Pepper continues.

“It's a system where basically Wallace and Queenie would basically be able to talk to each other. So if I started rising too high Queenie would be able to give me more insulin. Or vice versa, if I go too low, Wallace would tell Queenie and she would stop giving me insulin. It would hopefully prevent me from going too low or too high as often. Or going low enough that I’d need a glucagon again.”

“How far out are they from that being made?” Tony asks.

“Few years at least. The couple companies that are doing this haven’t even made it to human testing yet.”

“I want-” Pepper interrupts him, already knowing where he’s going.

“Tony, no. SI is not-” Tony cuts her off.

“Why not?” Pepper doesn’t have an answer ready and he plows ahead. “It’s for her. And millions of others. I don’t want to see her in the medbay ever again. Not because I had to stab her with a needle due to her sugars being so low she could die. So why can’t we add this to things we’re working on?”

“Well for one thing, we don’t have the technology to do anything diabetes related.”

“Dad, you’re jumping into something you know nothing about.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Wallace and Queenie, what are their companies' names?”

“Why are you going to buy them out?”

“I’m going to see about working with them.”

“Dexcom and Tandem.” You knew there was no stopping him once he was in this mindset. SI was going to be joining the insulin supply game. Especially since Pepper didn’t seem to be trying to stop him either. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do!” Tony’s voice explodes from him. “Iron Man can do a lot of things. But I can’t keep your blood sugar stable. I can’t keep it from dropping too low or rising too high. I can’t do anything but watch when you’re shaking from not enough sugar or look like you’re going to fall asleep during the day after you’ve been up all night from your sugars keeping you awake all hours of the night. I can’t take away the pain when your sensor hits a nerve and I can’t take away all the times you have to plunge a needle into your skin to draw blood sample after blood sample. I can’t stop any of that. But this? Science related stuff. This is something I can do for you. I can put the best technology on the market. I can help make sure that your devices are the best possible things so that you have the least amount of pain possible. That’s what I can do for you since I can’t do anything else for you.” As his voice rips out of him, voicing all the things he’s never felt like he could say to you, you inch closer to him. You’ve only had him in your life for a few months now, but you know what you’ve been told is true. Tony loves you a lot. He takes a breath, trying to calm down from his explosion of words. Your arms wrap around him, breathing in the smell you’ve started to associate with your dad. “Kiddo, I…”

“I love you.” You breathe in the smell of the motor oil from the cars he probably had been working on with Peter, the smell of the cologne that he must only lightly mist on because it only lingers along his shirt, and the smell of what must be an aftershave from the almost minty scent to it. 

“I love you too kiddo. So much.” The words are spoken softly, left on a puff of air into your hair. His own arms wrap around you, getting slightly tangled in your pump tubing, but ignoring it as he holds you close. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Better than Iron Man?” You tease.

“So much better than Iron Man.”

Across the kitchen, Pepper and Peter are watching the interaction. Peter can’t help but whisper the question he can no longer hold back. “Y/N has gone low enough to need a glucagon?” Pepper nods slowly. Peter must have been doing some research about your condition.

“It’s only happened once since she moved in. But it scared him. Worse than anything Iron Man related.”

“From what I was reading, that’s supposed to be a, like, last resort type thing.”

“It was a last resort thing. I wasn’t there when he gave it to her. But from what I heard, she was unconscious, having seizures and very low.”

“Could she have died?” Peter doesn’t want to know the answer, but feels like he needs to know.

“If she had been alone, possibly. But she wasn’t. She was with Steve, Clint, and Natasha, who then called Tony.”

“So this was before…” Peter trails off, knowing that Y/N only knows so much about what happened in Germany. Pepper nods. 

“She hasn’t seen them since. But I know they would do anything for her again. If Tony would let them near her.” Peter nods, knowing from spending time with Tony and you that Tony would let the world burn if it saved you. You are his child. Which made the feelings Peter has for you harder to manage, because Tony would murder Spider-Man before letting his daughter near the superhero.

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway  @iamaunicorn4704  @furiouspockettoad  @daughter-of-stark  @eternalharry  @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 

[crimsonheart01]

I Don’t Wanna Say the Wrong Thing (Coco x OC/Reader

This goes out to @snowyandthewitch​ who consistently puts up with my 4 am ramblings and mini fics and to @juniperjane​ who has the best quips and puns that will have you peeing your pants with laughter and to @thegirlwhowritesfics​ for being that all encompassing supportive friend, no matter how wild I get. 

Tbh these women put up with all of me and I love them for that. 

Word Count: 1,241

Playlist: What If I Told You That I Love You - Alie Gatie

Warnings: Swearing and passion

"It's club business." The statement was an automatic response from Coco but for her, it meant something entirely different. The mug in her hand cluttered into the sink and she turned away from him. Gripping the edge of the counter in front of her, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing.

Coco narrowed his eyes, confused at her reaction. He moved towards her, tucking a hand around her forearm when she shook him off.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He growled, his temper getting the best of him.

They were fine moments ago and now she was acting like he was a pariah.

She swallowed, shaking her head, "No. I'm not doing this again." His anger reflected through her back at him. 

He creased his eyebrows again, "Again? This is the first time we've ever done anything."

The rage shaking in his voice as he alluded to this being the last time they may do anything. She turned to walk away but he grabbed her wrist and tugged her back.

"Let go of me!" She spat, yanking her arm back.

"Puta madre," He swore at her.

She bared her teeth at him, "Fuck you too, Coco."

She shoved him backwards and he grabbed her wrists to stop her. She struggled against him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He demanded. With a harsh yank and tug, she managed to separate herself from him, stumbling backwards and into the kitchenette table.

Tears built in her eyes but she swiped them away before the fell, "I'm not going to spend my life living in the shadow of your club. It's your life, not mine. I won’t be made out to be untrustworthy. Not after everything.”

Coco arched an eyebrow, and retorted, "I never said you were.”

She scoffed, "You didn't have too!" Her voice began to rise as she spoke verbatim, "It's club business. That in itself implies you don't trust me."

Coco fumed for a solid minute, those were the rules. She knew that already. Why was this such an issue all of a sudden? He reeled, ready to yell back at her when it all fell into place for him.

"Happy." He mumbled. Once that realization hit him his fury boiled over. “You don’t want to live in the shadow of my club but I have to live in the shadow of him? I don’t know if you noticed this or not, mamí, but I ain’t him.”

She scoffed, yelling back, “Oh yeah? Then how come it’s club business and not a real fucking explanation?”

Coco stepped up, his head tilted to the left, his face set in anger and pointed a finger into her face. 

“What makes you think you deserve that privilege?”

She lifted her hands and moved to shove him away from her when there was an obvious shuffling behind them.

“Guys,” Leticia’s voice rang out from behind his back.

She let her hands drop down to her sides as Coco’s head whipped around. Letty stared at the two of them, a frown on her face. She didn’t need to say anything more.

“Lo siento, little mama,” She apologized.

They’d clearly woken her up. Letty met her with sad eyes. Letty had been listening. She wished there was a way to make the young woman feel better. But, it seemed this might be the one to end them all.

She ducked around Coco while he was still focused on his daughter. She exhaled as she darted into his bedroom and grabbed her keys and phone from the dresser. She took a minute to close her eyes, spend a few last moments in this room. The place she’d begun to call home.

She turned to leave and was blocked by him leaning on the wall directly across from the bedroom door. She stood in the door frame, watching him.

He was holding a lit cigarette, his arms were crossed and he was staring at the floor. His hair was hanging in the balance, covering most of his face.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She had hoped that they wouldn’t have gotten to this part. She lifted a hand, desperate to feel those silky strands between her fingers. She chewed on her lower lip and inched her hand back to herself.

She walked towards his front door as he followed behind her. She reached for the handle and stared at the peeling panels of the door.

“I love you, Coco.” She said, refusing to turn around and face him, “But I’m not going to compete with the club for you. I understand how important it is to you, and I respect that.”

She turned the handle and pushed through the door before she broke down. She let the screen door slam shut behind her.

Coco’s head snapped up at her confession. Three words. Words that neither of them were willing to speak out loud. He knew how he felt and he knew she knew that but this was her making the ultimate sacrifice. All without her knowing that he reciprocated.

He was out the front door right behind her. Catching the screen before it latched shut. He needed to be sure. He needed to trust that this wasn’t a ploy. A game.

He called to her retreating back, “You love me?”

She stopped abruptly, coming to the realization of what exactly she had said to him. She could back out. It wasn’t too late. It already hurt like hell. Why not fake the mistake. Make it easier for him to forget her.

She glanced over her shoulder, finding him standing there and watching her intently. His was devoid of any judgement. His eyes open and accepting. She let the tears fall down this time. Blurring her vision.

She took a shaky breath in, “Yeah. I do.”

“Fuck.” He swore, low and gruff.

With her forefingers, she wiped away the pooling tears. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. They stared at one another. This was it. This as where he laughed at her. Where he finally showed how naive she’d been.

He licked his lips, “Ay mamí,” The words came out an octave higher than a whisper, “I love you too.”

He didn’t give her a chance to question him. He crossed the distance between them in three long strides and had her face framed with his hands.

“I love you.” He repeated, tilting her chin up towards him.

His eyes searching hers. Willing her to know that this was real. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his, high emotion rushing through her.

He leaned down the rest of the distance and captured her lips with his. She sighed as soon as they connected. Her body falling slack against him. He let one hand drop, wrapping around her back and steadying her.

She reached up, one hand sliding up the back of his neck and delving into the hair there. It was manic. Their need for one another driving them. Their hands pressing hard against each other. She never wanted her arms to feel as empty as they did a moment ago.

With each breath they took, their affirmations coming true. With each break for air, they whispered the truth to one another.

“I’ll tell you everything.” He promised, his chin resting on the crown of her head. Cuddling her into his chest. Vowing in his mind to never let her go.