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deathsbestgirl · 10 months

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so. when i was a kid, and schools decided to try & scare kids away from cigarettes. and they talked about all the things that happen to your body, the way it causes cancer and what cancer looks like...i went home and started stealing my dad's cigarettes & lighters. i did it a lot. and one day my mom found the stash of them hidden in my room. she sat me down and asked why i had them. i told her i didn't want dad to die and she told me dad wasn't going to die. but i think i held onto that fear, it never went away.

and then it happened. he had stage four throat cancer.

before his diagnosis, he was having trouble swallowing for months. eating took him hours. he wasn't taking it seriously, insisting he was fine. my mom & i were on his case for what felt like ages.

when he finally went to the doctor, she gave him antibiotics, obviously that didn't do anything to help. the second time, my mom went with him and he went to an oncologist.

i had a trip planned with my friend, i told her my dad's had cancer & i didn't know if i could go (we were taking a very long road trip back to where she lived). she was great, but my parents insisted i go. so i did.

i called everyday, and my dad was in the hospital the entire time i was gone. when i got back home, my mom & sister told me that he needed to be intubated, at some point he flatlined but he was stable now.

the tumor in his throat was cutting of his airway when they got him to the hospital. i don't remember what he was going to the hospital for, but it was a shock.

at this time, i was still pretty sick myself. and that week i came back home was the worst i ever felt. but it was different. i can't explain to you the panic i was feeling. we were at the hospital everyday for hours. i was making us food & bringing it with us and forcing my mom & sister to eat something. everyday. i couldn't stay in the room when the doctors came in. and eventually it was more than panic and "feelings of doom" — i was so physically ill. i remember going to cvs to get medicine, and everyone in the store getting out of my way & cut the line because i looked like death. i mean a literal walking corpse. i was *grey*

it turned out to be iron or copper poisoning. as soon as i got my period, i was perfectly fine. i'll never know which because i couldn't get to the doctor in time for blood work. (i stopped taking medications & chinese herbs & supplements i was on and i never had this problem again but. this is the second time i almost died)

my mom was so mad at me for leaving the hospital room. it was one of the first days i was back & we were at the hospital. i think they might have had to remove part of the tumor, as much as they could. and then he started treatment.

before he could, he had to have his teeth pulled & dentures made. he had already lost so much weight, and with chemo & radiation, he only lost more. my dad was never a big eater, or rather, he didn't really care. he ate what was put in front of him (he has nine siblings) and always finished our leftovers the rest of us ignored. but...eating became a struggle for him for a different reason. the man never ate anything sweet. maybe a coffee cake when he was drinking his black coffee. suddenly he craves sugar, because it was the only thing that didn't taste bland or terrible.

the longer treatment went on, the weaker he got. i can't tell you how many times i had to pick him up off the floor. (once, i was napping downstairs and he had to bang on the floor to get my attention. we got him a little siren thing after that, because he couldn't yell loud enough if we weren't close by, and banging wasn't always the best option.) or how i had to take the emergency break off his car so he could go somewhere. or once, he was determined to mow the lawn but he couldn't start the lawnmower, but neither could i (the thing was a dinosaur). i was suddenly bigger than my dad.

he had to have a feeding tube eventually, because he kept aspirating. i had to hide all of the alcohol in the house. he had stoped smoking cigarettes, but he was vaping. his fucking oncologist told him it was okay. i guess this was earlier on when they first came out.

the wound around his feeding tube just. never healed. we took him to the hospital a few times because of it.

i can't remember what happened, but one night we had to call an ambulance. my mom & i followed them to the hospital after we grabbed a few things. my aunt & cousin beat us to the hospital. and when we got there, before we found them, there was some confusion with the ambulances. and they mistakenly told us that he was septic. but it wasn't him, it was another man. and as they were wheeling him in we were so confused. the man actually looked so much like my dad, it was scary. but then someone said his name and we were like no. i looked at him again and was like. oh my god mom that's not him. he has no beard. and that's when my cousin popped her head out and told us where my dad was.

it was one of those things we had to laugh at and my poor dad had no idea what was going on.

whenever my dad was in the hospital, my mom & i would go to the bar with my aunt, uncle & cousin. tbone, the bartender & friend of the family, would send us home with a huge to go cup of our drink of choice. he never charged us correctly. i can't explain what a lifeline they all were. (it was the only time my mom & i would drink after my dad was sick & couldn't.)

there was a time he wasn't sleeping, like he'd be awake for days? one day i went out into the kitchen, and my dad was acting a little crazy. i think this was early on. he had spilled coffee everywhere but he wasn't cleaning it up. which was all very weird, as in i don't think i'd ever seen him spill anything. and he was a clean & neat man. i have no idea what he was fussing about, but i told him i would clean it up and he got so annoyed at me, because he was going to clean it up. but i waited at least ten minutes and he didn't.

after that, my mom got his doctor to give him something for anxiety. xanax, and he could only take half and it would knock him out for hours. it helped him so much though. finally getting sleep made him a brand new person.

early on, i think after that first hospital stay, they gave us an oxygen tank & cpr equipment. teaching us how to use it...but my sister & i we're lifeguards. we knew. and he did have to use the oxygen tank. there was one night there was a power outage, and when you have someone on oxygen in the home, you need to call the power company to alert them. they're supposed to give you priority. i can't even remember how this oxygen tank work, but i guess it needed electricity. i can't even picture the thing anymore, and so much is a blur. but it was not a fun experience. we were on edge.

and my dad. god he was such a goofy, quiet guy. unless you got him talking and he could TALK. he was very unlike himself. grumpy & quiet in a different way. bored out of his mind. he wasn't worried that night like we were.

there was another day, he was going to an appointment on his own. i don't remember what it was for. but it wasn't supposed to take long and he was gone for hours. he didn't have a cell phone, never felt like he needed one. he had tried to go to the medical supply store after his appointment, but he didn't know where it was. but instead of going home, he just kept driving up & down the road it was on. so me and my mom and half the family were driving around looking for him. my mom & i on the phone, and i finally spotted his car and he pulled into the shop rite parking lot. he was so angry & frustrated. all of this was really scary, it was completely unlike him. i think this was another reason for the xanax, and a cell phone. (for the longest time i kept the few texts we had sent each other. eventually lost them when i got a new phone.)

he did go into remission eventually, the chemo & radiation worked...but he never regained the muscles in his throat. he was going to physical therapy (or whatever therapy) to learn to swallow again and there wasn't improvement. the doctors said he physically wouldn't be able to eat or drink again.

and then one day, after i had just gotten back from a trip to boston, i was at work. my sister left college because she couldn't stand being 7 hours away when he was sick. they had a very special relationship i wish i could describe. and suddenly, i get a call from tracey, my mom's friend from work and it was her son i was working with. she told me to leave & get home right away. of course it was like 5pm and a 20 minute drive took at least 30. my aunt kathleen, who i had no idea was even in town, also called me. and i could hear in her voice exactly what was wrong. i don't even know who called me first. i remember texting the group chat with my friends that something was really wrong, i couldn't say it but i knew. through all of it, i had never gotten a phone call like that.

i get home and there's an ambulance outside. my aunt kathleen & aunt joanne are there. my sister is in my downstairs apartment. he had a blood clot in his throat that burst. my sister was alone with him. she had to call 911 & do cpr until the ambulance arrived, and they couldn't save him. it was his half birthday.

i can't describe what i feel for my sister. she wouldn't talk about it and she still hasn't. i had to stop my mom from looking at my dad. i don't think she could have handled it.

i've talked about how i don't remember that week very well. but what i do remember is needing to get his chair out of the house. it's where he was sitting when it happened, and we only got it so he could have an easier time standing.

not too long after...my now wife moved in with us. and then my nanny had to move in and my mom gave me & renata the master bedroom. she couldn't stand being in there anymore. she redid the bathroom & we painted, and she took the smallest bedroom.

after my nanny passed, and the pandemic hit. she took a trip down to cape may with my sister and she came home with a trailer at a campground. she lived down there the entire summer until october. and then she decided she wasn't coming back. she bought a house.

for a few years, we rented the house from my mom until she had to sell it. now it's gone. i haven't felt too sad about it, but i do now.

when it was happening, the only people i talked to about it were renata (wife) and ryn & james (my best friends). more recently, it's been easier to talk about him. it's been 4.5 years. and i have the best friends i've ever had. it's good to remember him and feel a connection to him.

remembering this wasn't easy but i think about it a lot. he never really complained, so he never told us what it was like for him. but how it was during it all isn't how i remember him. i remember him before, from when i was little & the tickle fights. the time i threw a tantrum because i wanted to stay home with him instead of going to school. going with him to the bookstore he worked in (all the books we had without covers) the stories he'd tell me about when i was a baby.m (he taught me to climb out of my crib, i'd pull the cabinet doors off & he's put them back on and i'd do it again) what a weirdo he was calculating his gas mileage. how he didn't vote consistently until i started making him. all the sci-fi shows he watched & that we would watch together. when he wouldn't tell me what the word orgasm meant & just kept laughing at me. the way he would take his sweet time making his coffee christmas morning while my sister was vibrating & waiting for him to sit down. how he only ever wore jeans, even in the ocean. how he walked around the house in his boots. how he hated getting new shoes because they were never the same. the way he always gave me & my sister something for valentine's day. when i needed a cortisone shot in my jaw & he took me and didn't make me go back to school after because i was miserable. the way he danced. he loved 30s, 40s & 50s music. he didn't understand how we could listen to the same songs over & over, but he watched the same things over & over. his love of horror. how he taken (mini series) with my sister. the last picture with all of his siblings. the picture of him & my mom when he's wearing a lime green shirt. him mowing the lawn with the bandana rapped our his head. the way i wore bandanas because i wanted to be like him. the greenhouse we used to have in the yard. how he used to grow pot on our deck and my mom made him get rid of it when i did dare (finding weed in his drawer but having no idea what it was lol). how he collected all the different quarters and kept half dollars & dollar coins. the photos he carried around with pictures of all the kids in our family. the way i'm "just like him" and what everyone really means is probably autistic lol the story about a gay man hitting on him. the time he was arrested at the shore for open alcohol or whatever and the cop was basically a kid lol the way he would swim out really far in the ocean with me & my mom would be having a heart attack and eventually the lifeguards would yell at us to come back in. the way he went on the rollercoasters with my sister bc i didn't like them. the way he barely used crutches for a day after his knee surgery. i think about my uncle kevin telling me how much he loved me & my sister & my mom.

#personal #happy thanksgiving lol #cancer

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casspurrjoybell-26 · 5 months

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💖Sweet Revenge💖 - Chapter 6

*Warning Adult Content*

Blake Welling

Dr. Patreski reassures me yet again that there's nothing wrong with my memory.

"The helmet protected your head, Blake, thank goodness. If you don't remember someone from high school, it's probably because they didn't make much of an impression on you. Nothing more."

I believe her but the way Aaron looks at me, I'm pretty sure I made some sort of an impression on him.

It's weird to think that I could've had such an impact on someone and not even know they existed.

He's not back yet when my appointment ends, so I cross the street and get a coffee at a little bistro with a hip, urban vibe.

Aaron texts me that he's a few minutes away, so I get him one too, though I don't know what he likes.

I have a feeling if I wait to ask him he'll just say he doesn't want anything.

While I wait, I have an idea and call my sister, Tara.

"Hey, bro," she answers.

"What's up?"

I tell her about my truck and then about Aaron.

"Do you remember him?" I ask.

"He said he's twenty-six, so you would've been in the same grade, right?"

"Blake, that was a big school. I didn't know everyone."

"Yeah but you were popular."

"That means everyone knew me... or wanted to. If this kid wasn't a jock or a bad boy, I wouldn't have noticed him."

"Do you still have the year-book? Maybe you can look him up."

"Fine. I'll have to dig it out of the attic though. I'll do it later and call you back."

"Thanks. Text me if you find anything... this is driving me nuts."

She hangs up and a minute or so later, Aaron lets me know he's arrived.

I was hoping he'd come in but I'm guessing he wants to get back to Ashville and his store as soon as possible.

He has a business to run and... I realize with a little thrill of excitement... so do I.

My shop's 'Grand Opening' is in a week and I have a lot to do.

In the car, I hand Aaron his coffee.

"I didn't know what you like, so I guessed," I say.

He takes a sip and makes a face.

"You guessed wrong," he says.

"What is this?"

"It's a mocha."

"You think just because I make chocolates for a living I like everything sweet?"

"I guess I did, yeah," I admit.

"What do you have?" he asks.

"Uh... just a black coffee."

"I'll have that," he trades our cups in the holders.

"But... I already drank half of it," I say, a little off-balance.

"Let me go back and get you another."

"Nope. This is fine."

He takes a swig, makes another face and starts the car.

I don't know what to make of him.

~♡~

On the drive back I try to make conversation but after the fourth attempt dies a lonely death in the silence, I give up.

When we get back, I thank him again for the ride and try once more to give him money for gas but he doesn't even let me finish my sentence before he drives off and parks further down the street, leaving the spaces in front of his shop open for customers.

It seems he's determined to dislike me and if that's the case there's little I can do about it.

It's a shame though because he's God-damn gorgeous, I'm pretty sure we have shared inclinations and I really want to kiss him.

The whole ride I kept stealing glances at his profile, especially the soft curve of his lips.

They're a pale, rose-petal pink and I wondered if his mouth tastes like candy.

After thinking about it too much started to give me a hard-on, I made myself look out the window instead and think about global warming and other sad shit until it went away.

Later, after I've had my truck towed to the local garage and received the estimate for the repairs, I think it might be scared off for good.

Despite what I told my Mom, her worries aren't unfounded.

A lot of small businesses fail in the first year or two and there's nothing like unexpected expenses to knock you off your feet.

I spend the rest of the day putting together the remainder of the display racks and doing mental calculations, shifting numbers around in my head and trying to figure out how to minimize the impact of over $2,000 in engine repairs because of course it couldn't be something simple and cheap, right?

I'm folding up the last of the cardboard and other packing materials and getting ready to call it a day when a rap on the window makes me look up.

Aaron's standing outside, dressed in his work clothes... including that adorable apron... and waving something at me with a frown.

"You left this in my car," he says and holds out my wallet.

"Must've fallen out of your pants," he adds, cocking a brow at me.

I cough.

"Thanks. I'll need that when I pay the mechanic his blood money tomorrow," I say, taking it.

"That bad, huh?"

I nod.

"Cracked engine block."

"What's that?" he asks, frowning.

"It's bad," I say.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Well, goodnight then," he starts to turn and before I can stop myself I reach out and catch his arm.

"Hey... wait. Let me show you my shop. I mean, there's nothing in it yet but I'll give you an idea. You like bikes?"

He stares at me, blue eyes wide and ringed with white, black brows high.

"No. Not really," he says, kind of quietly.

"But um... sure, show me around."

I let him go, suddenly worried I did something wrong again and lead him inside.

"The bikes'll all be up along the walls and some over there on the floor," I point.

"On the other side I'll have all the accessories and then finally the back room is where I'll do the repairs."

It's actually a very quick tour.

He nods and expresses interest but it's clearly feigned.

I slump a little under the weight of my failed efforts.

I don't know why I want him to like me so much... maybe it's as shallow a reason as that I find him attractive... but I just can't let him go without one more try.

"Hey, Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

He turns towards me and looks up.

I intend to say something about not being the same guy I was in high school or some shit but instead, my eyes go straight his mouth again and I lean in to kiss him.

He steps away.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking slightly wild.

My heart starts to race.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I thought you were..."

"What, gay?" he scoffs.

"Yes, I'm gay and no, that does not mean you can kiss me just because you want to."

He turns on his heel and starts to walk away but then he stops and turns back.

"Why do you want to, anyway?" he asks, as he squints at me.

I hold my hands out and shrug helplessly.

"I like you," I say.

"I'm attracted to you and I swear if we knew each other in high school, I don't remember you but I'd really really like to get to know you now."

He stares at me for a long minute and I can almost hear my heartbeat it's so quiet.

"Fine," he says at last.

"You can ask me out."

A little flicker of hope leaps in my chest.

"Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?" I ask.

"No."

I try again.

"Will you have dinner with me this weekend?"

He thinks.

"Alright but I get to pick where."

I blink and smile in surprise.

"Sure, that's fine."

The corner of his mouth is twitching but it's fifty-fifty whether he's fighting a smile or a frown.

Then he breaks eye contact and looks away.

"I better go. See you later."

"Okay. See... you."

He's already gone.

I lean against the wall and let out a relieved sigh.

He's a little intense but I'm glad he's giving me a chance to prove I'm not some ass-hole high school kid anymore.

My cell-phone rings and I answer it when I see my sister's number.

"Tara. Hey," I say.

"Hiya Blake."

At the same time, we say 'Guess what?' and both laugh.

"You first," I tell her.

"I called around to some of my old friends and I found out who that guy is... Aaron Keene."

"Yeah? Who is he?"

She has a tendency to drag stuff out, especially when she thinks it's juicy.

"You remember how the first year we were here, that Spring there were all those extra classes everyone had to attend about suicide and bullying and shit?"

"Not really. I was pretty busy with track that year."

"Well, anyway... he's the reason. He's that little gay kid who tried to kill himself on Valentine's Day."

"What? I don't remember that. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, apparently he tried to give candy to his crush and he got beat up for it. Then he jumped off a bridge or something. Don't you remember?"

I don't.

I don't remember anything even close to that but I do remember receiving a box of homemade chocolates from a sweet, nerdy little sophomore with asthma and because he wasn't around at the time and all my jock friends were, I'd done something awful.

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brokenjere · 2 years

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seventeen going under (j.f) (part 8)

seventeen going under (j.f)

AN: hey guys! I added a tag list for this fic, so if you wanna be added leave a comment on the most recent chapter or send me an inbox to be added! Thanks for enjoying💖

synopsis: Taylor’s in town, Conrad forgets Belly’s birthday, a mean game of chicken, and a long awaited kiss and run

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck - the 1975 fallingforyou

catch up here

I stayed home while Jeremiah went to get Taylor from the bus stop with Belly. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Taylor and any chance to avoid her was taken even if it meant she was shamelessly flirting with Jeremiah and I wasn’t around to gauge his reaction. But his reaction wasn’t my business. I made that very clear.

I went into town to get groceries with my parents and watched as they acted like a newlywed couple picking out staples for their new home. I lagged behind like a puppy with too short of legs to keep up. Dad picked up something too sugary and Mom scolded him to put it back and when she wasn’t looking, he tossed it in the cart anyway and gave me a thumbs up.

At home, I helped mom make a lemon loaf for Belly’s birthday. It was one of the only things she knew how to bake well and made it every year for her. As it cooled down on the counter, I added one candle right in the middle. Happy birthday, Bells.

My phone went off in my back pocket and I pulled it out to see a text from Jeremiah:

We’re going swimming in 10. Be there :)

I didn’t reply and put my phone back in my pocket. “I’m gonna go next door, okay?” I called up to my mom who was upstairs in her bedroom. She yelled back, “okay!” And I went out the back door. I didn’t really care to go swimming, but I had my suit on underneath my clothes anyway. It was a written rule that when in Cousins, you always had to have a suit.

I was still reeling from my talk with Jeremiah and took my time walking through the backyard. It all just felt too heavy for me to carry right now. I don't even know how I'll feel once I see him.

Jeremiah, Steven, Belly, and Taylor were all in the pool already when I snuck through our bushes. Belly saw me first, waving me down and calling out my name. I smiled and called out, “Happy sweet sixteen!” Steven and Jeremiah were hanging off the edge of the other side of the pool, talking to themselves. Jeremiah looked at me when Belly called my name and he smiled. Really smiled. Like nothing had happened, which I guess for Jeremiah, things were easy to let go of.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, checking out what I was wearing. I shook my head but kicked off my flip-flops so I could sit on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water.

“Why not?” She swam over to me as I sat down, the water hitting just below my knees. She held herself up on the pavement with her arms and she was getting water all over the place but I didn’t mind.

I looked out at the pool where Jeremiah and Steven were talking when I arrived. They were now both staring at me instead of engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. I looked down at Belly instead. “Not in the mood. What are you guys doing?”

“I think we should play chicken,” Taylor said as she waded in the pool, a big grin on her face. Belly smiled and agreed, swimming back over to her friend. I kicked my feet in the water as the four of them decided who was gonna be whose partner and Jeremiah kept stealing looks over at me and I kept dodging them.

Belly got up on Jeremiah’s shoulders and Taylor got up on Steven’s and as they pushed at each other in the water, I watched as Jeremiah gripped Belly’s thighs. The way her legs hugged his upper chest and how, if she wanted to, she could run her fingers through his hair without even having to try. I was jealous of her in that moment. That she was that close to him. That her skin was touching his.

“What are they doing?” I heard Conrad speak behind me. Somehow, he snuck in the backyard when I wasn’t paying attention and he was with Nicole.

“Chicken,” I told him. He laughed a little and went to sit down next to me when Belly called out for Nicole. During the whole deb ball process, her and Nicole had kind of become close, I noticed. She had become close with all the girls, I think. Slowly. Without me noticing.

“Aren’t you guys a little too old to be playing chicken?” Nicole asked, laughing through her words. I saw Belly’s face drop and Conrad stiffened next to me as he dropped his feet in the water. His calf was touching mine under the warm pool water.

“It was Taylor’s idea,” Belly said.

There was an awkward pause and then Jeremiah broke the silence, “wanna play water volleyball?” Before anyone answered, he threw Belly off his shoulders behind him and into the pool and everyone laughed and it was no longer awkward. Always the comedic relief.

“Kind of rude of her,” I mumbled, only Conrad could hear. Nicole was taking off her shoes and setting her stuff down and Conrad glanced over his shoulder to make sure she didn’t hear. I didn’t care.

“That was kind of rude.”

“She can’t hear me.”

“So what,” he hissed. I looked at him and his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked more serious than I thought he would have and I recoiled into my body for a moment.

“Since when don’t you side with your friends?” I asked as Nicole sat down next to Conrad, smiling because she had no idea what we were talking about or that it was about her.

“Side with his friends about what?” Nicole asked. She wrapped her arm around Conrad’s shoulders and leaned into him, smiling. He smiled down at her and shook his head and we both said “nothing” at the same time. “Oh, okay," she mumbled, brushing it off.

I looked back out at the pool. The net was now set up and they had started playing their game and Conrad and Nicole engaged in small talk next to me but I tried not to evesdrop. I envied the time it was just the five of us. Me, Belly, Conrad, Steven, and Jeremiah. There was no Taylor crashing our party and Nicole would not be soaking up Conrad’s attention and it would have been me on Jeremiah’s shoulders.

When we were younger, before all the hard stuff happened, chicken was one of our favorite things to play. Belly would go up on Conrad’s shoulders and I’d get up on Jeremiah’s and our hands would be really slippery and we would laugh too hard until our stomach cramped and I’d fall off of Jeremiah’s shoulders before he was able to catch me.

Belly always described Conrad’s shoulders as a safe place to be. She said that Jeremiah felt too wobbly like she would fall and crash at any second but to me, Jeremiah was the most stable of them all. His were the ones I wanted to lean on.

I stood up and started to pull down my shorts but Conrad caught my wrists frantically when he noticed. “What the hell are you doing?” He scolded, looking around at everyone. No one was looking except for Nicole, who was peeking at us but trying to look like she wasn’t.

“I have a swimsuit on underneath,” I informed him, still trying to pull down my shorts but resisting from his grip. He looked over at everyone in the water, then back up at me, and released his grip. “What the hell is your issue?” I chuckled, taking my shorts off.

Conrad shook his head and rang out his fingers with his hand. I took off my shirt and tossed myself in the pool. I felt Conrad staring at me the entire time I swam over to Jeremiah and Steven. “YN! Finally,” Jeremiah laughed, reaching out to me. I put my hands in his and he pulled me the rest of the way. I let my body glide through the water until it crashed into his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around me and I couldn’t help but lean into him like he was an old blanket.

“You gonna be on my team?” He asked into my now wet hair and I nodded. He twisted his fingers into my hair as he hugged me tight and that’s how I knew we will always be okay.

I walked into Belly’s bedroom, towel drying my hair, as she and Taylor gushed on her bed about her birthday presents. I dropped the lemon loaf off in the kitchen as we ran through Susannah’s house trailing water behind us all. Susannah and Laurel yelled as we booked it up the stairs, the boys going left toward Conrad and Jeremiah’s rooms and the girls going right toward Belly’s.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Belly asked, inspecting each of the pearls between her fingers.

It was a gorgeous pearl necklace. “Susannah gave it to me.”

“You got to wear that tonight,” Taylor grabbed it from Belly’s hand and held it up to Belly’s neck where it would sit right above her collarbone. The white contrasted her skintone perfectly.

“What else did you get?” I asked her as I sat down on the bed, bunching the wet towel up and putting it in my lap. She beamed and reached over her bed to her nightstand, opening the drawer, and pulling out a small box.

“This is from Jeremiah,” she said, handing it over. I took the box from her and opened it. A car keychain. “Because he’s been teaching me how to drive,” she explained as she dangled the charm bracelet that rested on her wrist. I knew the bracelet. I knew Susannah got it for her a long time ago but I didn’t know he was teaching her how to drive. When did he have the time?

“He’s teaching you to drive?” I asked, glancing up at her but then concentrating back down at the charm. It was silver and perfect and I ran my finger over it gently.

“Yeah, he let me drive to get muffins one morning and I drove to go get Taylor.”

I nodded and closed the box, handing it back to her. I don’t know why the bottom of my stomach feels like it’s on fire. A burning rage that made its way up my small intestines and through my chest making me feel like I wanted to vomit. “What did Connie get you?” I changed the subject.

Belly looked down at her lap with the box in it and shrugged. Her hair fell into her face. “He said he forgot.”

“What?”

“He forgot,” she spoke louder, looking up at me. Her eyes were soft and sad like now she was finally really feeling the feelings of him forgetting. Conrad forgot? I couldn’t imagine him forgetting. The entire month of June, every year, he asked about Belly’s gift. Always wanting to get the perfect one. He was good at that: finding the perfect thing to make you feel all the feelings.

“How could he have forgotten?” I asked quietly, almost more to myself than to Belly. Taylor clapped her hands and said, “who cares! He’s a dick anyway. Jeremiah and Steven mentioned Nicole’s having a party later. We’re gonna go, right?”

I started to protest but Taylor held up her hand to stop me. “It’s Belly’s birthday. You wanna go Bells?” Belly looked between me and Taylor and quite frankly, I didn’t care if we went or not. Not really. Like Taylor said, it was Belly’s birthday. Hesitantly, she agreed.

“After the dinner Susannah made, okay?” Belly conditioned. Taylor nodded eagerly and I excused myself to head home and get changed and showered for dinner but Jeremiah stopped me on my way down the hallway.

“Hey, where are you going?” He was hanging halfway out of his bedroom, his bicep holding him off the doorframe. I could see his muscles, focusing on them before I even knew what was happening. He had a small smile on his face, his hair messily laying over his eyes and he was happy. Happy to see me. Happy I was there.

“I was gonna go home and change and stuff. Just refresh before dinner, you know?” He nodded and held out his hand, his door swinging open, inviting me to take it. I did. “What?”

“Come downstairs with me. We’ll watch a movie and hang out.” I hesitated to reply, looking away from him momentarily. He tugged on my hand a little bit and eventually, a smile grew on my face unwillingly and I nodded. “Okay, hold on,” he said as he went back into his room. My palm felt cold now that it didn’t have his in it. He grabbed some clothes out of his dresser and handed them to me. “Change into these. They’re dry,” he looked me up and down, “and clean.”

“My clothes are clean!” My voice cracked and I looked down at the t-shirt and jean shorts I was wearing that were clean this morning when I put them on, but now the shirt had wet spots where my boobs touched from my wet swimsuit and my shorts were wrinkly, riding up my thighs and giving me a wedgie. Wet, damp swimsuit underneath it all.

“Change,” he demanded with a laugh, pushing me into his room and shutting the door as he waited out in the hallway. I loved his room. Both this one and the one in Boston. Being in here was like getting a hug from him. Enveloped by his scent, consumed in his energy. I would drown in it forever if he asked. I exchanged my clothes and wet suit for his warm, baggy t-shirt and cloth shorts that were both too large for me. I tightened the strings on the shorts so they wouldn’t fall off and I bunched my clothes together in a pile next to his dirty laundry.

“I’ll grab my stuff before I leave, okay?” I told him as I exited the room. His eyes slid over my body, taking in how homeless I look, probably, but he smiled.

“Are you naked under those?” I scrunched my nose up. Partly in distaste for the comment and partly to give my face something to do other than produce a bright pink hue on my cheeks.

“Well I’m not wearing my wet bikini, that’s for sure.” Jeremiah bit his lip but it happened so quickly that I think it might have been an accident. He shook his head and then took my hand to lead me down to the living room.

Jeremiah flipped all the lights off, closed all the curtains, and piled a bunch of blankets and pillows on the couch. I moved the giant ottoman to the couch, creating a bed for the two of us. This was how we always did movie nights. “Do we have snacks?” I asked.

Jeremiah scoffed, holding his hand to his chest. “Do we have snacks? Would it be the Fisher house without snacks?” He trotted to the kitchen, pulling bags of chips and two bottles of sodas out of the fridge. I threw myself on the couch, wrapping myself up in the blanket. Jeremiah was next to me within seconds, handing me my Diet Coke and a bag of Sun Chips. I took them greedily and did a happy dance, making Jeremiah laugh.

“What movie are we watching?” I asked. Jeremiah flipped through the channels on his TV, eventually landing on On Demand. It was something my mom would be offended by if she heard me call old school, but in the age of Netflix and streaming, On Demand was old school but it was our tradition.

Jeremiah eventually found Napoleon Dynamite, a usual for us that we hadn’t watched in a long time. It was one of our favorites. I snuggled into the pillows and opened my bag of chips. “Can I have one?” Jeremiah pouted, eyeing up my bag.

“You gave them to me,” I said, furrowing my brows. He shrugged and tried to reach for my chips but I swatted his hand away. He laughed and tried again until we were in a full on wrestling match over the garden salsa. His hands were attacking my hips, tickling my sides until I was hiccuping from laughing so much and I was pushing him away and off of me but he pinned me down.

His fingers were interlaced with mine and he held my hands down above my head. His face was only inches away from mine and I bet he could taste the chips in the air between us which made me feel self-conscious. I swam in the blue of his eyes and he searched mine. My heart was pounding so fast I wondered if he could hear it. I wondered if he could feel it. “Jere-” I breathed but then he was kissing me. His lips were on mine and I was kissing him back. I couldn’t help it. His lips were soft and sweet and he tasted like Jeremiah, my Jeremiah.

He ripped himself off of me when a voice cleared its throat from behind us. Jeremiah sat up, his hands no longer connected to mine. He was sitting on his legs on the ottoman in front of me, looking behind me toward the kitchen. “Conrad, you scared the hell out of me,” Jeremiah laughed.

Conrad.

I sat up and looked behind me. Conrad stood there with his hands in his hoodie pocket and stared at us. He didn’t speak, just looked between me and his brother. His fucking brother. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Conrad,” I said. His eyes snapped to mine and suddenly, I was alone on an island. Water rushed over my body as it washed up on the shore.

I frantically started to grab my phone, shooting up off the couch. I could hear Jeremiah calling my name, but it was like it was off in the distance. He was a sailor, just him and his boat off in the ocean calling me out to sea. “I gotta go home,” I said, pushing past Conrad and out the door.

The summer air hit me like a brick. It was humid out, the sun beating down on the pavement. I didn’t even realize I wasn’t wearing shoes. “YN!” It wasn’t Jeremiah. He didn’t come after me. Did I want him to? I think so.

Conrad caught up to me, stepping in front of me to stop me from going further. “What?” I choked out. Conrad glanced back at the house. I almost did, too. To see if maybe he was standing on the porch watching us. Letting his big brother pick up all the broken pieces. Jeremiah was good at that.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, dipping his head low to match mine. I bit my lip and tried to look away but he used his fingers to guide my chin so that I was forced to read his face. His concern, sadness, and pain. It was all right there being served up on a silver platter. So unlike him.

“I don’t know,” I lied. “I just have to change, okay? Susannah will be home soon to start dinner, right?” Conrad shrugged. “I just have to go.”

“Are you going to be at Nicole’s party?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. We’re all going to go. For Belly’s birthday.”

“You forgot,” I whispered. I don’t know if that really even mattered at this moment. It wasn’t my birthday. He wasn’t mine to scold. He wasn’t anybody’s and neither was I. “You didn’t get her anything.”

Conrad looked stunned. His face changed from concern to irritation but only briefly. “I-”

“You never forget. She deserves an apology.” I stepped around him and ran to my house. My feet slapped the pavement but I didn’t feel the pain of the heat or the rocks beneath my feet. I didn’t feel it until I was in the comfort of my own bedroom. Until I was sobbing into my pillow.

Taglist:

@things-that-make-sa-happy @marajillana

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher fan fic #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher imagine #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #reader insert

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bansept · 2 years

Note

Ichihime

15. The king has declared there shall be chocolate for everyone !

Fluffy with Kazui

plzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Aaaaand the second one! Thank you for waiting fjdnsnf

Hopefully it will bring you happiness, because I really liked writing it

---

"Mom, you think we can play a little bit?"

Orihime kept her eyes on the bun that was raising in the oven, the fluffy cushion seemingly alright for her to leave it out of her sight before turning around to smile at her son.

He was holding his little hands together, lips pushed into a small pout as his eyes begged for mischievous attention. Kazui really looked like her when he was asking for a favor.

"Did you do your homework?" She asked, passing a gentle hand in his hair, and the boy nodded happily, popping a sheet of paper from his back, proving dutifully that he could play now.

"Okay then, go see Papa, he's going to play with you, I need to finish this."

Kazui trotted to the dinner table, where Ichigo was staring with suspicion at his computer screen. He gave the boy a big smile when he felt his hand on his arm, and scooped him up on his knees to tickle him. Orihime felt like melting watching their son chuckle in happiness, turning around to ask him to play with him, indicating his room. Ichigo feigned ignorance while raising his brows, already putting his job on the side to please Kazui.

"Mama said we could play! Come, let's go play with the dinosaurs, you can be the big triceratops, I'll be the diplodocus. And we can go on a trip to the bathroom because there are lots of fish, and liopleurodons too!"

His father laughed at his enthusiasm, raising from his seat, and closing his laptop to put Kazui back on the wooden floor, letting the 6-year-old lead the way.

"Alright, you go, I'm going to steal some treats from the kitchen..." Kazui had rushed, almost disappeared at the first word, allowing Ichigo to not so sneakily walk up to a jar of freshly baked financiers. Orihime tapped his hand with a mitten, giving him a playful glare.

"He didn't hear you but I did." She scolded, a smile forming to reach her eyes, and he did the same, pulling his tongue at her.

"You were supposed to be absorbed in the making of that experimental bun of yours, just pretend you didn't hear me."

"Oooh, sorry, yes, of course, eat all of the pastries, so that I really will know who sneaks behind my back between you and Kazui." Orihime tapped his chest lightly, eyes shining with mirth, seeing Ichigo roll his eyes.

"Oh yes, you are the only one in the house to not eat pastries, that is well known." Ichigo inched closer, pecking her cheek teasingly as his hand dipped into the jar. Orihime let him kiss her, her smile turning soft. She hugged him close, feeling his hard body meet hers, a hand gently rubbing her back in silence.

"You seemed annoyed earlier, everything okay?" She asked, her chin cropping on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead.

"Just some correction that didn't make sense. Don't know how some people can say they're translators if they can't even write properly in English. And since I have to correct them, it's a bit annoying."

Orihime hummed in understanding, separating their bodies so she could take a pastry as well. While it was different from Ichigo's job, it was still a bother when working in a chain to have to deal with a mistake from someone else. She could recall a day at the bakery where an order was almost entirely finished, only to find out the very first part of the process had been mixed and messed up. She had to deal with it, and could still remember the long talk she had to have with her apprentice.

"Well, do you want anything special for tonight?"

"You mean, in bed?"

"No, I meant with Kazui. At the table, to eat."

"Oh, well, um... The chocolate we got from Chad, when he went to Mexico? It looked like a really good one. And Kazui will be happy to have some."

Orihime stared at the closet, trying to remember where she placed the gift from their shared friend before nodding enthusiastically.

"Sure, no problem. I heard we can use the chocolate to make some hot chocolate!"

Ichigo grimaced, knowing very well their son would go banana over having sweet before going to bed, but hey, once in a while, it wouldn't hurt them. Orihime marched to Kazui's bedroom, watching him play very seriously with a... what was the name again? Diplodocus? With a dinosaur in his hand.

"Honey, the King has declared there shall be chocolate for everyone tonight!" She intoned with a grand voice, arms raised in victory, Kazui's eyes widening with joy.

Soon, his favorite plushy accompanied him to dinner, and Ichigo gave his wife a ravenous grin, impatient to have some time with her as well. With the chocolate.

#bleach #ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime kurosaki #kazui kurosaki #ichihime headcanon #ichihime writing

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beachy--head · 2 years

Note

All this is making me think, if u want u should write a scene after the baby kicking when they finally talk and Jackson apologizes for the custody fight thing, for treating her like an inferior doctor, and it comes out the restraining order was because she was scared and didn’t trust the Avery’s because she heard Catherine. He can apologize for that too. Lots of apologizes w both and talking and more baby kicking. I also don’t think he’d want to leave her after the kicks either.

(second part of the prompt) For the baby kick thing I just sent, I also meant.. April is tired from a long day, and Jackson would want to get her home if she’ll let him. And she was also scared because she thought something was wrong, but he realizes that happened after they argued about stealing her patient. And he had no clue. he wants to help now, needs to help, and ask her please let him help

___

This baby can kick.

He's not a sap (his divorce seems to have hardened him way beyond measure), but these are maybe the best four words in all of the English language. The sensation of their child kicking against his palm is enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he spends the next ten minutes in a silent dialogue with the little one, trying to convey all the love he already feels for them. He could easily stand here all night, with his family, but April yawns and he suddenly feels selfish. She's pregnant, and she shouldn't stand in a parking lot for hours just to appease her ex-husband.

She gives him a tired, tentative smile, and before he can remember the restraining order, he blurts out "Can I drive you home?"

April widens his eyes and he shakes his head. "Sorry, I forgot, it's okay, I'll let you–"

"No, I'm so sorry about the restraining order, Jackson. It was really stupid. I was scared, and I overheard your mother, and the lawyer said so many things about you getting full custody, and I panicked. I should have gone to talk to you," but I don't know how to talk to you anymore, she adds in her head.

"I'm sorry too, about my mom. And well, I was an ass, too. I was just so lost and angry and I didn't know what to do, and..."

"And you kept remembering what happened last time?"

He nods, because she's the only person who can understand. It's a shame they're not good at communicating, because things are always easier when they just talk and find out they feel the same, they just express it in very different ways.

It's only later, when he drops her off and makes sure she's settled in their former appartment, finding excuses to stay, that he gathers the courage to ask if he can touch her belly, touch her again, because he's still unsettled and he needs to know their baby is fine. She lets him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she opens up, telling him about how scared she was. How she thought the kicks meant that there was something wrong with this one too, and that this time it would be all her fault for not doing the necessary exams sooner. How relieved she was when Arizona did an ultrasound, how their little baby is already perfect. How she knew that she should talk to him and not fight, because their baby didn't deserve this. How she already felt like an inadequate mom, because I need to know I'm able to protect that child (and he wants to tell her she did everything to protect their brother too, but he doesn't, not wanting to interrupt her).

He doesn't say a word, but each sentence breaks his heart a little bit more. Because she was suffering and he had not clue, and he should have been there. He should have been there to freak out with her and rush her to OB for a scan, he should have been relieved with her, and what did he do instead? Cause her more stress and anguish that what she was already feeling, complicating an already complicated situation? Like he told her earlier, he doesn't like the guy he's turning into.

"I want to be better at this. To be here for the little one, be here for you. If you'll let me."

Her heart bursts, and she closes her eyes. The kick she feels (the baby seems to like their father's voice), that he feels too against his hand, is like a anchor, centering her, and for a minute, she can almost believe everything is going to be alright.

#drabble #japril #april kepner #jackson avery #ask

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

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

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

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

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? On the table?”

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

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

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

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

“Why do you say that?”

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

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

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

“Maybe he got out?”

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

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

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to get up and eat something.”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s my phone?”

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

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

“What did he want?”

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

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

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

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

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

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

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

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

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

“I have to tell you something.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

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

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

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

“What happened to your hand?”

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

“Cut it on a shovel.”

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

“...okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Aiden--”

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

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

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

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

“I lied to you.”

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

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

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

“Fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No—"

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

“Angel—“

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

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

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

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

“I’m not doing this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

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

“What do you need?”

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

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

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

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

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

“I know how this stuff works—”

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

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you?”

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

“Put it back.”

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

“Put it back, please.”

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

“He looks so much like his father.”

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

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

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is this the answer?”

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

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

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

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

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aiden?”

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

“How long was he in Chino?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nine!”

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

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

“Shit—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to stay at home.”

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

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

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

series taglist: @angelreyesgirl89 @holl2712 @relaxing-najee @thedeviltohisangel @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @amorestevens @witching-hour @seize-the-droid @rosieposie0624 @sesamepancakes @est1887 @queenbeered @ticosas @blessedboo @helli4nthus @katjusja @melanicia @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @moneteguiza

mayans taglist: @lilacyennefer @pedropcl @holl2712 @rae-gar-targaryen @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @henrycavill19 @silverstarsandsuns @chellybear98 @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @noz4a2 @wiccanmetallicrose @crxssourbones @kimljn @starrynite7114 @richonne4life @themarkblues @mariaxliliana @thelovelyleo23 @hail-horror-queen @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @losolvidad0s @helli4nthus @babaohhhriley @futureleo1678 @whatupitshuff @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @minnicelli @sillygoose6969 @capnsaveahoe @leahnicole1219 @crashbarbie @cyka1312 @zoovent @lakamaa12 @keithseabrook27 @vir-tually @awkwardtayler @rawrlittlepanda-95 @irenne-stans @pearlkitten33 @ezs-baby-angels-whore @sesamepancakes @toni9 @vannabanana1995 @queenbeered @shawty-fenty @kaystacks17 @thesandbeneathmytoes @anactualcaseofthetruth @star017 @cant-decide-at-this-moment @cocotheclown @watsonwise @ilovebey2018 @oscars-wifeyyy @rosieposie0624 @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @jjwriter23 @briskywalker @peoniarose @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @partypoison00 @making-starsdance @claytoncardenasbabymama @myakai13

#lost one of tommy's scenes and retyped it off memory #so hopefully it's good lol #but let me know what you think?#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #lover of mine

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wastelandcth · 3 years

Text

In the Mountains - cth

summary: who would've thought hiking with the boys would have ended up being so eventful? as the fifth member of 5sos with a crush on a certain bass player, you’re about to find out.

author’s notes: thanks to @calumspupils for sending this request in! I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist || request

You didn't really know how you'd gotten to this point in your life. How you had ended up in a band with four people you'd give the world to, it all still seemed like a fever dream. Most mornings you'd wake up either on a tour bus or in a hotel room miles from home wondering if this was your real-life and it wasn't until you were sat at breakfast with your bandmates that you realized how grateful you were for the twists and turns that had led to your crazy life.

Some days you'd play shows and feel like you were on top of the world, rocking out on stage with your best friends. Some nights the views from the airplanes you'd grown used to being on took your breath away for so long you were afraid you'd actually imagined it all. That all the cameras flashing and fans screaming out lyrics you'd written with the four guys on stage next to you were a figment of your imagination and you'd wake up one day to find it all gone.

"Hey, I know you don't love hiking but...I'm sure we'll make it fun," Calum's voice rang out in the car, bringing you back to the moment at present, "And I'll be there to tell you all the jokes and point out cool rocks," he said with a wink.

Calum Hood. You'd turned your head to face him, the California sun was hitting his skin and making him glow. His bright smile adorning his face as the sunglasses he was wearing slid down his nose to reveal those brown eyes you'd fallen for. His soft voice and gentle teasing bringing warmth to your stomach that always seem to linger whenever you two were alone. It was something that you thought you'd kept to yourself, a little secret, but the comments online only left you a blushing mess.

If you were being honest, you'd been in love with Calum since the first months you'd spent with the band, getting to know each other and making sure you'd be a good fit into the group. those weeks had been filled with outings together where all five of you would spend hours on end telling stories about growing up and then laughing over how the internet blew up when they introduced you to their fanbase. But those few weeks were also spent trying your best to not make a fool of yourself in front of Calum, who seemed to always be at the right place whenever you stumbled or when your voice would crack while you were practicing alone.

You two had clicked instantly, both stuck to each other's hip as you took on the world. You'd write together, spending hours on a couch drafting out possible songs and humming along to tracks that had potential in matching the band's sound. You'd even become neighbors at one point when you'd first moved into the city to be closer for band work. He'd helped you move into the apartment next to his and you'd spent many weekends at each other's place, laughing over the awkward silences when you'd both caught each other glancing for a few seconds too long.

So you were in love with your bandmate, your best friend, with Calum Hood. How bad could it be?

Apparently, very bad. You and Calum had never been the subtle type and although you both pretty much knew there was more than friendship between you two, no one made a move to make it more. Ashton had asked you once when you two had gone out for lunch after a studio session.

"I just can't understand why you two haven't already gotten over it and got together. You'd thought about it, he's thought about it. Just do it," Ashton huffed, shaking his head as he watched you tense up and shake your head.

"The band is what's important, Ash. We can't let our feelings get in the way of fucking up what all five of us have created. He knows that and I do too," you'd replied, laughing quietly as Ashton only shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.

But Ashton was always one to try and make others happy in his own special way. And that's how you found yourself in the car with Calum on the way out of the city for a hike you were less than excited about. You knew Ashton was up to something when he'd texted the group saying that you and Calum would have to drive to the trail together since you wouldn't fit in his car with Luke, Mike, and their partners. As a form of payback, you'd purposefully told Calum to pick you up thirty minutes after the original time to make sure you were the last ones to get there because there was nothing more than Ashton hated than being late. And that's how you found yourself driving out of the city with Calum, lost in your own head over how beautiful he looked.

"Mhm, you always make things fun," you chuckled and winked back at him, "We're gonna need it especially now that we're late and Ashton will definitely kill us."

The hike had gone surprisingly good considering three of you were not the most athletics and Luke and Michael had constantly been racing seeing who could go the farthest faster. Ashton had tried his best to keep everyone on track until you and Calum had teased him about being the mom friend as he'd set up his phone on a rock to shoot an update video for fans to let them know about the band had been up to. It had all been going according to plan until you moved closer to Calum and twisted your ankle, ending up on the floor staring up at the blue sky.

"Oh my god, I'm going to die. Just leave me here to die because I'm not making it," you cried out, "This is the end of me!"

In a matter of seconds since your back had hit the ground, four familiar faces hovered above you, one of them looking more concerned than the others. The pain shot through your spine and down your leg, your eyes closing as you tried to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. Soon enough you found yourself being lifted up from the ground and a warm body pressed against your back. You could hear all the guys fighting over what to do, which meant your ankle wasn't twisted backward since none of them had screamed or puked their guts out. Their voices all mumbled into one as you breathed through the pain and it wasn't until Calum's warm breath was hitting your ear that you felt yourself take a deep breath in and open your eyes.

"I'm gonna stay here with you until Ash and the others can get a ranger to bring a car or something like that, okay?" he mumbled softly, his hand rubbing at your back as he helped you sit back against a rock.

"Please don't let my leg fall off, I need it to run on stage and to kick Michael when he steals my food," you whined.

"That's not gonna happen, okay? I think you just twisted it and it's all going to be okay, sweet girl," Calum mumbled and kissed your forehead, "Promise."

The sun was still high in the sky by the time you started thinking Ashton had left you both in the desert. You'd both been sitting on the ground together, watching as your ankle grew and grew in size as the time passed by. The pain had dulled and your head was resting on his shoulder when your brain had started to think of the worst.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you were Australian. Us Aussies are known for our athleticism," Calum chuckled as he nudged your side with his elbow, "It's a well-known fact."

"I can do a better Australian accent than all four of you," you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you smacked his thigh, "And I can outrun pretty much all of you except Ash."

"Except right now."

"Calum Hood, I swear if you don't stop making fun of me-"

"What? Are you gonna hit me again? I dare you-"

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the heat of the sun beaming down on you both. Or maybe the fact that you were thirsty since Michael had taken the only backpack with water with him before you two realized it but Calum's lips looked very nice and it took no self-restraint for you to lean in and stop him mid-sentence.

"Maybe you should twist your ankle more often, huh?" Calum chuckled as you both pulled away, "Or bully you more often."

"Shut up and kiss me again, idiot," you laughed and pulled him back in for another kiss.

"Who knew all I had to do was get you two alone on a hiking trail for you to finally kiss, huh?" Ashton's chuckled made you both pull away, making you both look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh shut up, I'm never going on a hike with any of you again," you huffed and gratefully took the park ranger’s hand as he helped you on to what looked like a golf car.

It was a short trip back to the medical center, where they treated your very swollen ankle with ice while you downed all the water you could get your hands on. But you were grateful that Calum hadn't left your side once, his hand in yours as you squeezed it whenever you'd hit a bump or when the park ranger wrapped your ankle. His hand was still in yours as you both drove back to the city and it never left yours even when you both laid on the couch in his living room that night, drifting off in each other's company for once accepting that maybe, just maybe, this could be more than just stolen glances.

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @myloverboyash @notinthesameguey

#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood x reader #5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos x reader #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #gemma writes

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hot-wiings · 4 years

Text

The One Where Pro-hero!Katsuki Bakugo's Son, Finds Santa Kissing His Mother. Alternatively, The One Where Katsuki's Son Demands His Father Beat Up Santa Claus On Christmas.

Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 12-25-2020

Katsuki quietly hummed to himself as he worked inside the kitchen prepping breakfast. He had some pancakes and sausage on the stovetop, whereas he kept the bacon cooking inside the oven. He had one arm on [Daughter Name], keeping her attached to his hip as he bounced her and flipped food with his other hand. She was only two and still being young she clung to her father for attention, with it being one of his rare days off for the holidays he wasn't going to say no, he was going to devote it to her and his son.

"Bud, can you toast the bagels for me?"

Katsuki briefly moved his attention from the stove to pull the bag of bagels out of the bread cabinet and tossed them onto the counter. Usually, he'd had done it himself but with his daughter on his hip, cooking was already proving to be difficult. His son rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"I like it better when mom cooks. She never makes me do stuff."

"Hey! You should gladly offer yourself up to help her when I'm not around. Your mother is a Saint, that's why she's sleeping in and you're stuck with me. Now toast the f– toast the bagels."

[Son Name] untied the bag and pulled the bagels out begrudgingly. He was defiantly a momma's boy and loved to give Katsuki lip, undoubtedly universal karma for Katsuki being such a demon to his own mother. Katsuki had to smile to himself as he put food on platters and placed it on the table as well as placing his daughter in her height chair before leaving to wake you up for breakfast.

Katsuki never thought this would become his life. He never thought he'd have a son, his own carbon copy of himself, nor did he imagine he'd follow up with baby number two attached to his hip whenever he wasn't out heroing. Beyond that, he never imagined he'd find someone like you, someone who put up with his crap, someone perfect. He never imagined such a picture-perfect domestic life for himself, one where he cooked, fed the children and owned a cat. One where he had a scheduled date night every week and brought flowers home every other Sunday. He wouldn't ever dare change it.

"Baby?"

Katsuki quietly closed the door behind him and walked over to the window so he could open up the curtains and let light in. You groaned and pulled the pillow over your head as the light made contact with you. You pulled the blanket closer to your body, and a smile tugged at Katsuki's lips. He loved moments like this.

"Sweetheart, it's time to wake up."

"No, you're mean. A big meanie."

Katsuki climbed into the bed and cuddled up next to you. He pulled the pillow off of your head and threw it onto the ground on his side so you couldn't reach back for it. You had major bedhead, and he loved that. Years ago you would've forbidden him from seeing you like that, now he found it hot.

"It's Christmas Eve, you need to get up."

"No, leave me alone. It's my day off, go wake the kids up."

"Already awake, and breakfast is on the table. We wanted to let you sleep in, give you a break for once."

Katsuki pushed your hair out of your face and tried to pull the blanket out of your grip as you fought back a smile. He thought he was being really smooth.

"For being a pro-hero you're such a liar. You don't want me to have a break, you were trying to butter me up so we can repeat what we did last night."

"You were the one who was all over Santa last night, don't blame me if I try to get the use out of the Santa suit before I have to give it back to the company."

He was referring to the Santa costume he came home wearing last night. Everyone at his hero agency had to dress up as Santa and do some charity work for a variety of different places such as churches and hospitals. He came straight home afterward and you put it to good use.

"Mm, I don't need Santa when I have you, I guess."

"Geez, aren't you romantic."

"Just let me put some clothes on and I will be right down."

You rolled off the bed and scampered off to your laundry basket to see if you could find some pajamas to clothe your naked body. Katsuki ripped his eyes away from your back, ripped his eyes away from the marks he gave you passionately. He climbed off of the bed and made his way back downstairs to the breakfast table but he passed [Son Name] in the kitchen putting bagels in a toaster.

"Dad, can I talk to you? Man to man."

"What's up, little man?"

"Last night... Last night I saw mommy and Santa kissing."

Katsuki tried to laugh it off as he pulled the orange juice from the fridge and placed it on the table, your son following him hot on his tail as he went.

"Santa only comes on Christmas."

"That's what I thought, but mom said Santa comes before Christmas sometimes to make sure our trees are working, like in 'The Grinch' but for real, and mommy would never lie to me."

"I'm sure it's not what it looked like, Alright? Your mother loves us both very much and she wouldn't do that to us."

It was exactly what it looked like but it wasn't Santa, it was himself in the Santa suit. Katsuki was grasping at straws, trying to explains this to his son and make it look innocent, trying to make you look good without exposing the secret.

"I know mommy wouldn't do that to us! What I really wanted to talk about was how Santa was really mean. He took her into her bedroom and said some really mean things. He yelled stuff at her like 'that's my pussy' and 'give me a baby'. If he wants a cat so bad can't the elves just give him one, I like our cat."

This progressively kept getting worse, and Katsuki was glad that you were still upstairs. Had you heard their conversation you surely would've killed Katsuki.

"Daddy, you need to stop Santa before he tries to steal our cat, I love Gigi! What if he tries taking [Daughter Name], he said he wanted a baby. Or worse, what if he tries stealing mommy from you. You-you need to beat him up when he comes tonight. You need to set Santa straight."

There were so many things Katsuki could've said or done to de-escalate this. He could kindly explain he was in a Santa suit for charity work. He could have lied and said he and you were arguing about getting another cat. He could have been honest and said you both were talking about having another child, but he didn't. [Son name] was begging him with forming tears in his eyes. He was crying out and calling him daddy. He was such a momma's boy, Katsuki hadn't had his son need or want him like this in such a long time. It felt nice, it felt good, so all Katsuki did was nod and agree with his son.

"They don't call me DynaMight for nothing. I'll blow him into next week. Santa won't think about stealing anyone of our family members ever again."

[Son Name] wrapped his arms around Katsuki and he smiled. He tightly grabbed his father, and let his tears fall into Katsuki's shirt as he mumbled out thank you's.

"I can't wait to see you beat up Santa."

In hindsight, Katsuki should've expected that one. How was he supposed to beat up Santa when he was Santa in the first place. Suddenly a horrible idea crossed Katsukis head. It is despicable, and mean. You would've frowned upon it and discouraged it. Once his son let go of him and walked off to sit at the breakfast table, Katsuki walked down the hall to make a phone call to his coworker.

"Key, Kaminari– What do you mean I only call you when I need something?! I'm a good friend you du– Look, do you still have your Santa suit? Come to my house tonight at eleven, in your suit. I promise it's for a good cause."

The clock was slowly ticking away. Every second chasing down the hour and Christmas Eve was well on it's way to becoming Christmas. Supper had finished up, Katsuki even cleared the table and helped you do the dishes. He had cooked, and it was a mutual unspoken agreement between you both that whoever cooked dinner did not have to clean it up after. He didn't even try to sprinkle you with water, he was just sweet and soft for the evening.

"Thanks, Katsuki, you're being so sweet today. Let me sleep in, made breakfast and you helped me clean? God, you're such a keeper."

You threw your drying towel onto the now cleared and clean counter before you made your way to the living room to find some Christmas movie on the tv that was age-appropriate for your children. Katsuki was being sweet, too sweet and it made you suspicious. He was pulling out all the cards and tricks he typically pulls out when you get angry that he'd forgotten something, or came home too late.

After you got settled down on the couch with [Son Name] nestled between your legs on the floor and [Daughter name] cuddling into your right side. Katsuki came over and sat a tray of hot cocoa on the coffee table in front of the couch. Katsuki took a seat at your left side and passed you a mug before wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. You hummed while you sipped from the mug and carefully watched as Katsuki skimmed through the tv channels and put on 'Santa Claus', the one starring Tim Allen, for the kids and you.

He hated that movie. He claimed it was to overwatched. After being put on year after year he wanted a new Christmas movie.

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

Katsuki was taken back by your words. He didn't do anything, at least not yet. He was planning to roast your best friend, but Denki didn't even know it was happening and the only one who could snitch was his son who didn't know it would be Denki.

"You let me sleep in, you made breakfast, you bathed the kids and uhm, me. You cooked and helped clean dinner, now you've brought me cocoa and now you're putting on a movie you hate. So, what did you do?"

To be fair, some of those things Katsuki had planned out into motion before he had even planned to blast Denki into next Tuesday.

"I just wanna cherish you. You're my wife, let me love you."

Katsuki pulled you even closer to his side, nearly making the cocoa in your hands tip over as he placed a tender kiss onto the tip of your head.

"You forgot to get me a present didn't you?"

Your eyes narrowed at Katsuki before he dipped his head own to your ear and whispered hotly.

"I did not forget, you're getting a great present tomorrow morning, and maybe I'll even give you one tonight."

"I'm watching you."

The minutes slid by as you watched the movie together as a family. Everyone once and awhile you give Katsuki a look out of the side of your eye, carefully inspecting him. Soon your son was nodding off at your legs and your daughter was sound asleep in your lap.

"Time for bed."

Your son jumped up, seemingly having excitement from out of nowhere. You carefully picked up your daughter and carried her in your arms as you stood up to carry her to bed. One down, one to go.

"Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas for mommy, okay? I'll be right there to tuck you in."

Your words were rushed and whispered as to not wake your sleeping daughter, but your son frowned and grabbed Katsuki's hand.

"I want daddy to tuck me in tonight."

"Mm, you sure? I'd love to read you a bedtime story."

"I want dad."

You adjusted your daughter on your arms to help even out the weight as you stared down your son and husband.

"If you're both not in bed within half an hour I will take away a Christmas gift."

You walked off upstairs, still suspicious of the males in your family. No way did your son, the momma's boy, just reject your offer. Now you were positive Katsuki was up to something.

Katsuki waited until you were upstairs to text Denki. He was outside, waiting to make noise under the pretense that his son wanted to meet Santa. Denki could be heard outside, doing goodness knows what.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah! I bet it's Santa, are you gonna beat him up dad, are you gonna show him who's boss!?"

Katsuki rolled his sleeves up and looked back at the stairs, just to be sure you were upstairs and not watching them.

"You can bet your butt I am! Your dads the greatest, watch me go kick Santa's butt."

Katsuki marched to the front door and swung it open before making his way to Denki. He walked the way he did on patrol, the way he did when he was on TV, like a man on a mission, a man with a purpose.

"Ho-Ho-Ho!–"

"Ho-Ho-Ho yourself! Heard you wanted to break apart my family, Santa."

Katsuki aimed one of his blasts at Denki. It wasn't large enough to harm him, but it was large enough to hurt.

"Katsuki, what the fuck dude?"

"That was for being mean to my wife and trying to take away our cat."

Katsuki marched closer to Denki and kicked him in the leg, grinning as he heard Denki groan in pain.

"That was for swearing in front of my kid. If I can't do it, neither can you."

"I'm sorry, Jesus Christ."

Katsuki left Denki on the floor as he walked over to the front door and picked his son up. His son clutched on to him tightly, happy his father saved the family. Happy his father wouldn't let Santa take his cat or mother away.

"Thanks, Dad, you're my hero."

"Well, I am the best hero. I'd fight Santa for you any day, just don't tell your mom."

Even though Denki snitched to you the next day, even though you had watched the altercation through the window, you didn't say a word to Katsuki. You didn't reprimand him, or get upset that he hurt Denki. Instead, you watched fondly with a smile from the window. That was the father of your children, your hero, and the guy who held your heart. He was soft and sweet and held the bar for fathers high. He deserved a pass for this one.

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

Text

lamentation | SEVEN

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,000

warnings: fluff. angst. language. not even sure why i warn for angst anymore this whole story is just angsty af

18+!!! minors stay away!

In the following few weeks, you realized two things. One: Peter Parker was definitely not subtle. The other being that you were definitely in way over your head. There was no denying the stupid butterflies in your stomach anymore, or the way you found yourself expecting his touch before it even came.

It seemed as though the two of you were like magnets; a constant tug gravitating the pair of you back to each other with an unstoppable force. If you weren't together, he was on your mind, and like he could sense you thinking of him he'd be quick to reach out in some way or another. Be it appearing at your side, all happy grins and playful eyes, or calling your phone no matter the time with his stupidly adorable stutter--Peter seemed to think of you just as much as you thought of him.

The more that you thought of him, the more that you wished you didn't. It was terrifying. You wished that you could pull away again, to push him back out of your heart and lock those iron bars tight once more, but your heart had grown selfish and stubborn. It was as if you were the one locked out anymore; the control over your feelings slipping further and further from your clutches with every toothy smile Peter sent your way.

Like a magnet, he held you in place. Oh, to be held by... You slapped a pillow over your face and screamed, holding it so tightly that your nose ached and you couldn't breath. Peter Parker was like a disease. A stupid, all-consuming, utterly infatuating disease of the mind and the spirit.

You knew that you were wasting time, undoubtedly causing yourself to risk being late for school with every minute that passed as you continued to lay in your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. Already, your mother and father both had knocked at your door on multiple occasions and questioned if you were sick, and now you were regretting saying no. It would have been so easy to avoid him if you'd just played hookie.

But, with midterms in the near future, you knew it wasn't the best idea. The realization had come to you in the night. A moment so insignificant, so mundane, but it had been as if a switch were flipped in your mind. A light was turned on, so to speak, and illuminated all the thoughts and emotions you'd been so tirelessly repressing.

Talking on the phone with Peter was like a drug, and talking on the phone to him at night was a dangerous game. Under the dull light of a crescent moon and the ridiculous teddy-bear night light that was plugged into your wall, a lingering remnant of your sister's presence in the space, your inhibitions were always low. With sleepiness your walls were always lowered, and he'd unknowingly put a fatal crack in the foundation.

You rolled onto your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet through the air like a little kid as you fought back the grin that always seemed to worm its way across your lips when you were talking to him. "So, how do you like Ned and MJ?" Peter asked, and you could almost picture him mirroring your position as you heard the quiet rustle of blankets over the line. A little giggle bubbled out of your mouth at the thought.

What a sight that would be, Peter kicking his legs to and fro like a school girl in love. "They're cool. I kinda like that MJ doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that she thinks I'm weird. I don't--I don't know, it's refreshing I guess. Ned's sweet." you rambled, and it was the truth.

Ned and MJ were easily slipping into the fortress that shielded your heart with every passing day. Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Perhaps that was because they didn't harbor a secret identity with which they risked their lives every single night, or maybe it was just because you'd come to realize that letting people in wasn't so bad. Not everyone was going to die on you.

Michelle Jones really didn't pretend not to think you were weird, not even a little bit. Her blunt and honest nature was a nice change from the quiet stares that seemed to follow your every move; MJ wasn't much for staring. Rather, she boldly told you what she was thinking without any shred of doubt.

And Ned, sweet Ned Leeds, was like a puppy personified. Always happy, always smiling, and always waiting to offer you compliments when you approached. You couldn't remember the last time someone had dared compliment your hair, your smile, or your outfits. Ned made it impossible to feel anything but comfort and joy in his presence, even his awkward nature was endearing.

"I'm glad." Peter hummed, "They really like you. To be honest, though, I kinda like it when it's just us. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to share you."

There was a pang in your chest at his words. Peter had been subtly flirting with you for days now, but this was more direct. He didn't have to come right out and say it for his implications to come across loud and clear, and that magnetic pull grew stronger.

So strong, in fact, that you murmured back, "I like it when it's just us, too."

If you had just kept your mouth shut, maybe he wouldn't have been so bold as to say, "Not gonna let them steal your heart from me, are you?"

The words were right at the tip of your tongue. Your heart was screaming, never! Nobody could ever steal me away from you, Peter! Yet, your mind was racing with a million and one horrible thoughts that made you feel as though your mouth was full of mud.

The silence between yourself and Peter grew thick as it drew on, no words escaping your lead-like lips. The voice in your brain, the one that sounded like your sister yet you knew was not her, was ringing in your ears. How could you ever fall in love, when she never could? How could you give your heart away, when she never had the chance?

You took that chance away from her. You stole it. This thing, whatever the weird force between the two of you was, was all stolen time, stolen opportunities, and stolen lives.

"Good night, (Y/N). I'll see you at school?"

You whispered, "Yes." The line went dead, and you felt cold.

Those simple words from Peter, with meaning and intention that was far from simple, were all it took to send the walls, bars, and barbed wire around your heart crumbling into nothing. With no protection, no barrier between yourself and the dangers of everyone else, your mind was working on overdrive. It would have been so easy to let him in, had that voice remained quiet, and yet you were steadily building those bricks back into place.

Now, all that was left to do was to steal your heart back. When had he managed to take it from you? Had he snuck in during the night, slipping through the strategically placed cracks and weak points he'd created, and stole away with it undetected? Had he taken it that first night, without you ever noticing?

As you finally released the pressure over the pillow on your face, sucking in a shaky breathe and letting all the heavy things crash over you again, tears burned your eyes. You didn't want to push Peter away. You didn't want to be the reason he was hurt, upset, or angry--you weren't ready to be the villain in his story.

"Mom?" you called out, knowing she was lingering close by.

Proving you correct, the door to your bedroom cracked open only seconds later and your mother's worried eyes fell upon your blinking ones. She definitely saw the troubled look on your face, the tears in your eyes, yet she held back from mentioning any of it as she asked, "Are you sick, honey?"

You nodded, the lump in your throat aiding your act as you croaked, "Yes. I don't feel good."

She frowned a little, knowing that you were bending the truth of the matter. Your mother was perceptive, and with the emotion all over your face, it easy for her to know that this wasn't some stomach bug or sore throat. To your relief, though, she resigned, "I'll call you out of school for the day. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Tomorrow, you could be the villain. For today, though, you were content to avoid your troubles and wallow in your self pity. At least this way you had some time to slip back into your stoic, cold demeanor before you had to face him. Time to prepare yourself to be alone again, because you knew that once you pushed Peter Parker away, Ned and MJ would be quick to follow him.

Sleep didn't come for you like you hoped it would. Well, it did, but then you found yourself dreaming of Peter and woke with a start. School had started an hour ago, and already there were a flurry of confused and increasingly alarmed messages from him lighting up your phone screen. Even though you couldn't hold back from reading them, you locked it before you found yourself replying as if on autopilot.

Pete: are you late

Pete: i'm at your locker

Pete: hello?

Pete: i'm going to class... see you there?

Pete: are you okay? you said you'd be here

Pete: at least let me know you're aldkhdkfj

You spent the day in your room, ignoring Peter and ignoring the world. Occasionally your mother would crack open your door to check on you, fussing over feeling your forehead despite the fact that you both knew you didn't have a fever, and tittering little comments about getting rest and staying hydrated. She knew you weren't sick, yet you were grateful she didn't try to pry.

As much as you wanted to tell her all of the things that were on your mind, the reasons that you were upset, you couldn't. You couldn't tell her all of the awful things you were thinking, and see the way her face would contort in anguish over you. You certainly couldn't listen to her telling you that it wasn't your fault, you weren't wrong for liking a boy, and your sister would want you to be happy. Even if you knew, in some deep part of your brain, that it was true.

Pete: got my phone taken in calculus sorry

Pete: I'm at lunch now, are you okay?

Pete: are you sick?

Pete: like... actually sick?

Peter really was relentless. You wondered how long it would take for him to catch onto what you were doing, or if he would at all. Would he understand why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder? Would he understand, and be okay when you pushed him away again?

Pete: I'm in speech now.

Pete: we got the class to work on the speech and you're not here

Pete: not that we could do much anyways since you're so stubborn but still

Pete: okay what is going on

Pete: (Y/N)

Pete: please talk to me

Reading all of his messages kept the ache in your chest alive, stopping the numbness from creeping back in. You wished you could put your phone down, turn it off even, but it was like a cruel an addicting game to read each message as it arrived. You found yourself watching the little three dots as he typed another message eagerly, even if he was far from happy.

When school ended, he called. You let it ring each time, watching his name scroll across your screen over and over again until it ended. Once, twice, three times--he finally stopped calling, not leaving a voicemail.

For awhile, you wondered if that was it. Was he done? Had he caught on? Had he figured you out just as easily as he always seemed to do? Had Peter given up?

Pete: i know what you're doing

Pete: i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable

Pete: we can just be friends if that's what you want

It wasn't what you wanted, and that was the problem. You didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. Well, you didn't want to just be friends with him. You wanted to know what his touch felt like when it was deliberate and welcoming, not the fleeting and curious brushes of his skin on yours. To be held by him, to taste his lips, to hold his heart in your hands like he already held yours--you wanted so much more than friendship with Peter, and that made you a thief and a fraud.

You: that's not what i want

You were weak. A weak, cowardly idiot is what you were, and you threw your phone on your bed with a groan as you realized what you'd done. The voice in your mind whispered insults, taunting you for being so easily broken.

Pete: what do you mean

You: i don't want to be friends with you Peter

Pete: oh

One simple word, and you realized he had taken that in a completely different way than you had meant it. Yet, you didn't correct him. You didn't explain that you meant you didn't want to just be friends. Maybe this was your chance--an easy way to kick him outside your walls without having to see it firsthand.

The chance didn't last long. A quiet knock sounded on your window, and your heart froze in your chest as you tried to sink deeper into your bed. It was the wind, you told yourself, until the knock sounded again and slightly louder. You could see the shadow on your floor out of the corner of your eye, and you buried your face into your pillow to block it out. If you ignored him, he would go away, and this would all be over.

After a few more knocks, it was silent for awhile, and you tempted a look at the floor only to frown at the sight of the shadow missing. He was gone, and you were alone again. Your lip quivered at the thought; what had you done? It was a mistake. This was a mistake.

You didn't want to push him away. You wanted him to hold your heart. You wanted Peter Parker as your friend, as more than a friend, hell, as anything as long as it was with you. But now? Going back on your word and dragging him back in again would be pathetic. He didn't deserve such treatment, especially not from you.

So, you pulled your pillow back over your face and let the tears fall. Your hot breath burned your eyes and made you feel sticky and gross, but you didn't care one bit. It felt cathartic to cry, like returning to a familiar place you'd been skirting around for ages. Crying over Peter was different than crying over your sister; the hurt was different, but one thing was the same: both were all your fault.

"Go away, mom." you whined, barely hearing the sound of your door unlatching over your muffled sniffles. It creaked further open, and you groaned, pressing the pillow harder onto your face, "Mom, please, I just want to be alone."

A throat cleared, and you froze. That wasn't your mother, the voice was deeper. The sound was still too light to be your father's, though, and that left one option that made your blood run cold. He didn't--did he?

He did. Peter pried the pillow out of your hands, all red cheeks and sad eyes as he stared at you in a sullen silence. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, "Why are you pushing me away?"

You blinked at him, too paralyzed by the sight of his fluttering eyelids and pouting lips to speak. It must have been a sight to see you like that, your face red and blotchy, streaked with tears and snot that you'd been too lazy to wipe away. He didn't look away from your eyes, though, gazing into them with an intensity that dared you to look away.

Sensing that you weren't going to speak, he pressed on, "(Y/N), what is going on? I don't--It's okay if you don't like me back, I can deal with that. I want to be your friend, though. I thought you wanted to be mine, too."

Voice scratchy, you muttered, "I don't."

Something changed in him, and suddenly Peter was raking a hand through his hair as he frowned deeply. You wanted to smooth the crease between his brows, but you felt frozen. He was angry; he was angry with you, and he didn't hold back as he snapped, "That's bullshit, and you know it. If you didn't want to be friends, then why did you make that deal? Why did you let me make a complete fool of myself just to get your attention? Why did you let me introduce you to my friends? Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not!" you yelped, sitting up frantically and wiping at your face, finally. "I'm not lying, Pete!"

He threw his head back at the nickname, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way from his lips, nostrils flared. "I don't get you, (Y/N). I don't get you at all." he growled, facing you again with a heavy brow.

You gripped your blankets tightly, bunching them around your waist as you blinked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to just be your friend, Peter!" you burst, "I don't want to just be your friend, and I don't know why. You make me feel all these things that terrify me, but I keep chasing after you and whatever those things are! It was so easy being alone, okay? Then suddenly you came swinging into my life and made everything so--so complicated!"

Your mother's face peered into your room, eyes blown wide in surprise, but the moment you glanced at her she backed away with a bitten smile and you flushed. You didn't get the chance to dwell on the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, though, because Peter sat on the edge of your bed and bit the inside of his cheek, blinking at you with teasing eyes.

"So, you like me?"

Eyes narrowed, you grumbled, "Are you really going to make me say it, Pete? After all of that?"

A sly grin stretched across his lips, cheeks puffing out adorably and making you bite your own to keep from grinning too. He tutted, raising his ruffled brow as he jabbed, "After everything else today? I think it's the least you could do."

You were screwed. His fingertips barely caressed the backs of your knuckles, and you shakily grabbed them before he pulled away again. "I like you, jerk." you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut as you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

Peter just chuckled, squeezing your hand as you felt your bed shift under his weight. "I don't want to just be your friend, either." his breathe fanned over your cheek, and your eyes snapped open to find his face closer than ever. If you just turned, ever so slightly, his lips would brush your own... He kissed your cheek softly, backing away with a tiny smile that you matched. "I like you a lot. Probably more than like, really."

"That scares me." you whispered, eyes still latched onto his, "Peter, you scare me."

He took a long moment to answer, weighing heavily the words he would utter next, before finally telling you, "You scare me, too, but I think it's worth it."

A gentle tapping at your door crashed through the moment, both of your faces burning a deep red as you turned to face your mother's sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me--"

"Mom!" you wailed, slapping your hands over your face in mortification as she stealthily slipped into your room and dropped a box of condoms onto your dresser before racing away again. "Oh, I can't believe she--Mom! Did you really have to do that?"

Peter was laughing boisterously, head thrown back and eyes shut, though you could tell he was flustered too from the cherry red color that creeped down from his face and under his shirt. As humiliated as you were by your mother's actions, you couldn't help but to feel a little grateful for the interruption. The intensity, the tension in the air, had disappeared with the intrusion, and things felt a little bit lighter again.

You flopped back onto your bed, still pouting over the spectacle, as Peter breathed out, "That's so something Aunt May would have done, too."

At least you weren't alone in the embarrassing family department, you thought to yourself as Peter threw himself down beside you. She meant well, obviously, but did she really think that you and Peter were going to go from admitting you liked each other to ripping each other's clothes off in one night? Well, you were eighteen--maybe she had a bit of a reason to be so hasty.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Peter questioned, and you turned your head to face him, trying to ignore the close proximity of his face to your own. "Liking me?"

You chewed at your lip, listening for that voice in your head that had suddenly gone silent. "Yeah, yeah I do." you responded, and his face split in a blushing smile. You did think it was worth it, because being with him reminded you of all the good feelings you missed out on when he wasn't around. "I just wish we could have been like this before. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm stealing her life."

He grew serious in an instant, eyebrows furrowing as he stated, "I don't." At the sight of your confusion, he continued, "I don't wish we met before. Can you honestly say that you're the same person you were before?"

"No."

He nodded, "Exactly. Stuff like that... It changes you. I would know, remember? You wouldn't be the you that I like, and if Uncle Ben were here maybe I wouldn't be who you like, either."

You had to admit, he had a point. "I guess so." you pondered aloud.

"You're not stealing her life, either, (Y/N). She would have wanted you to be happy, to do all the things she never got to. It took me a long time to stop thinking that way, too, but I did. It wasn't your fault, and you can't miss out on stuff just because of her." Peter advised, and you swallowed down the lump that was growing steadily in your throat, "She didn't give up her life for you to stop living yours."

Fuck, Peter really knew exactly what to say. You, however, were at a loss for words. He said all of the things that you'd needed to hear for so long, so perfectly, and it rocked you to your core. How did he know just what you needed to hear? The answer was simple--because he knew you, and he knew how you were feeling. He knew, because he had lived it.

Changing the subject, you asked, "So, what do we do now?"

You didn't have to explain for him to understand, and he swallowed thickly, "Do you... will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That might be worth it."

He scoffed, "Might be? Forget it, I don't want you to be my--"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Pete!" you cut him off, laughing loudly. "I really, really want to." So, maybe you lied when you said that Peter made things complicated. In fact, Peter made things incredibly easy--and that made it worth it.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony @cherthegoddess @justsomebodyweird

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illyaana · 3 years

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Tags: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate! au, Mafia! au, Pro Hero! Shoto x quirkless mafia leader! reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Cursing, Violence

Synopsis: You are a leader of a mafia that had ties with the League of Villains. You declined a transaction with them and planned to leave the scene. Suddenly, heroes surrounded the area and you were captured. Aizawa, Shinsou and Todoroki interrogated you. In the midst of the interrogation, Shoto finds out that you are his soulmate.

How to identify a soulmate: You can communicate with your soulmate by drawing or writing something on your body.

Thanks to @horseanon--simpforall for having this collab! I usually don't do the whole soulmate trope, but it always was nice to read and it was fun to write! Hope you enjoy this compilation of your first times with Shoto! Yes, I love Shoto very much, thank you. Kettle boy is the best boy. ヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)o

Warning: This fanfic does mention some graphic things (abuse, suicide, death, etc.) so if you aren't comfortable with it, please don't force yourself.

Blood, blood, blood.

That was your nights. Killing off rogue members, bagging their bodies and collecting their quirks for the mafia you are currently leading.

Yes, you heard that right; stealing their quirks.

Thanks to the technological developments the 'company' you owned, Ahnia Technologies, have made throughout the years, you have managed to steal quirks without having a quirk itself.

All thanks to a small gun that fits in your pocket.

The illegal business of stealing and giving quirks to others since the fall of All for One is completely dominated by your mafia now.

And it all happened under a company that 'promised' the betterment of Japan and the world.

To be fair, you did invent some stuff for the safety of the country, but they worked better in collecting data on people, be it heroes, villains or viligantes.

"Persephone, you need to leave now. Shigaraki is waiting for you," said Toga, fiddling with the knife in her hand.

Ah yes, your villain name; Persephone - The bringer of death.

Your name was known throughout the streets of Musutafu, yet no one really knew how you looked like, thanks to the power of makeup. You never covered the scars you've received throughout the years of villainy. The scars you bore are the scars you wear with pride, along with your Haladie sword and your retractable iron hand claws.

That's all they knew. That was Persephone.

After all, who would think the CEO of Ahnia Technologies would be the leader of Diavolos; the strongest mafia in Japan?

No one knew the sweetheart of the science industry, L/N Y/N, was Persephone, and no one will. Those who knew are long gone - be it by God's hands or yours.

You got up from your seat at the bar, thanking Kurogiri for the Whiskey on the rocks.

Walking towards the inner room, you spotted Dabi leaning against the wall, toying with the staples on his face. Beside him stood Hawks, eyes gawking at you, taking mental notes. In the middle of the room sat Shigaraki Tomura. The sky blue-haired man with scars all over his neck paid close attention to your Haladie sword, blood dripping off of each end.

"Killing spree?" He question, a smug tone ringing off of him.

You turned to him, a smile graced your face. "As always."

He got off his chair and walked towards you, raising his gloved hand to you. You snickered when you saw your company's name written on the wristband. So they do have some money.

"Pleasure to meet you again," he said, slowly taking off the prosthetic hand on his face. You took the gloved hand in yours, shaking it slowly.

"I'll just get straight into it; we need some quirks for these Nomus." Soon came gigantic Nomus, their hands swinging as they bumped into places. The ground shook as they slowly walked in. Their purple skin filled with little holes thanks to all the testing the League of Villains did on them.

"Aren't they strong enough?" you questioned, "Besides, I don't believe they have the mental capacity to use quirks that require the orders from the quirk user itself-"

You were cut off by Shigaraki's ungloved hand touching your iron hand claws. "I just asked for quirks, not your opinion." He said, his red eyes staring dead into yours.

You extended your iron claws, every single one going through Shigaraki's hand. Your empty hand withdrew your Haladie sword and aimed it straight at his throat. You began to smirk, looking at his scared expression.

"If you wanted to fuck up the very thing you spent hours on developing on, be my guest. However, don't drag my fucking business with it," You said, venom dripping off your words.

While you stared at your sword, you spotted a small heart engraved on your wrist.

Your soulmate wanted to cheer you up.

You remembered how badly you wanted to meet your soulmate when you were younger. Your parents smiled as you showed the small things your soulmate did. A little drawing of a smile on your wrist, them drawing a flower...

Then you were brought into the family business.

The happy-go-lucky girl you were back then vanished almost instantly.

The training, the killing sprees, the interrogations - it all erased your humanity.

Yet, the need to meet your soulmate always stayed.

Somehow, they always knew when you were having a bad day and knew just how to make it better.

You were already 24. The usual age you meet your soulmate was 18. You wanted to give up so many times, but the small things they did stopped you every time.

You awoke from your daze the instant you felt a temperature change.

You removed the sword from Shigaraki's throat and retraced the iron blades.

"We're never having business transactions ever again, Shigaraki. Not after this buffoonery of a display you've done today. Consider this a warning; mess with me and you'll be in a casket the next day." You said, leaving the room.

But it was too late.

All the Pro Heroes surrounded the area around the bar. An ice wall was built around both Kurogiri and Toga along with Eraserhead cancelling both their quirks.

On instinct, you ejected one of your blades to hit Aizawa on the cheek, forcing him to drop his stare on Kurogiri and Toga. They never did anything bad to you, they were good people.

"Go, don't worry about me!" You screamed at Kurogiri, knowing he'd try to take you with the rest of the League to safety. He needed to protect them, I can protect myself.

He nodded and proceeded to warp to the smaller room, take the rest of the League members and warp away.

You felt the heroes run towards you. You smirked, knowing that you could easily take them down.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp feather around your neck, slowly digging into your skin.

"You aren't escaping, baby bird," Hawks whispered as he removed your gear, leaving you powerless. You soon felt a needle being pushed into your arm, darkness slowly engulfing you.

You woke up in an interrogation room. Your hands were chained to the table in front of you. The mismatched arrangement of the bricks that had chipped through the years reminding you of your years under your father.

That sick man ruined you.

That sick man ruined your family.

That sick man made you the revolting thing you are now; a fucking villain who killed more lives than a bomb.

You began laughing to yourself. You became this to stay away from the dark room he used to shut you in, yet here you are; in another fucking dark room but with chains now!

What the fuck is my life!?

I- I am just so fucked up, aren't I?

At least I killed that son of a bitch.

At least I burned that fucking house.

At least my mom died before she could see me become this - his masterpiece.

You soon began to write on your arm, hoping your soulmate was awake. "Hey, you awake?"

You soon felt a warm sensation on your arm. "Yeah. You good?"

You chuckled. At least they care. "Nope. I fucked up this time, and pretty badly," you began writing on your upper arm, letting the words earlier slowly fade.

"Well, if you want to vent, you know where to write," they replied with a small smiley-face at the end.

"How was yours?" you asked, directing the conversation to something more positive, hopefully.

"It went great! I finally managed to catch something I really wanted to catch for a long time!" they replied, their writing slowly moving diagonally. At least they had a good day.

Your happy trail of thoughts was interrupted when Brainwasher, Eraserhead and Shoto entered the room. The smile you had turned into a scowl when you saw them, especially Brainwasher.

"Wow Aizawa, is today bring your kid to work day?" you said, teasing the Pro Hero. You knew that Shinsou was the worst person to deal with in an interrogation setting. He could easily control you the minute you respond to him.

'Let's just talk to Aizawa and Todoroki then. If I don't respond to Shinsou, I'll be just fine. Oooh - better yet, just keep quiet,' you thought to yourself as the three heroes proceeded to sit down. 'Messing with them would just make my day better, anyway.'

"Mind telling us who you are, Persephone?" Shoto began, trying to be polite.

"So I am Hades' wife. I am the Goddess of Spring, daughter of Demeter. I am also considered the Harbinger of Death," you said, leaving them annoyed. "I guess you all don't like Greek Mythology!" you said, smiling.

They tried to get you to talk, but every single time they pried, you just kept on laughing, slowly pushing their limits. Shinsou tried getting you to talk to him, but you just stared at Shoto and Aizawa, laughing louder and louder.

"I swear to God, what's the fuck is wrong with you?!" Eraserhead screamed, hitting the metal table.

You were waiting for this question. With a smile, you replied, "Everything."

Aizawa saw something in you with that answer; the unresolved anger you had towards someone. He knew if he hit just the right nerve, you'd spill everything.

"Why? Did Daddy fuck you up?" He said, a smug tone lacing his words. You saw Shinsou and Todoroki turn to face Aizawa with a bewildered expression.

You, however, just stared at him blankly. "How did you know?"

You felt numb. This man just sat beside you for a few minutes, yet he already knew how badly you were fucked up by that fucktard.

"Yes, Daddy fucked me up. He made me kill people at the age of 5. He didn't let me go to school because he wanted me to only kill for him, nothing else. I may be quirkless, but he knew that I would do just the same - actually more - damage a person with a lousy-ass quirk would."

Their eyes widened when you revealed that you were quirkless.

"What? Shocked that a regular person could kill over 20 Pro Heroes with just a bunch of blades?" You said, feeling a smirk slowly forming your face. "It was fun killing that All Might guy. You could say it was payback. After all, that son of a bitch couldn't protect me when he was living so close to me."

You began to laugh more as you saw they began to form tears.

"Oh, that isn't the worse part. The worse part of it all was the torture I went through. Have you ever imagined your 10-year old self hanging on the wall via chains, chains like these," you shook the handcuffs, "All because you couldn't kill a rabbit. Oh yeah, It was a package deal; chains plus 50 whips! " you ended, lifting up your shirt slightly to show the scars you received from it.

"Luckily my mom died before she could see me become like this. She was an angel. When she was around, Dad was actually a nice guy. The mafia was more of a family. We took care of everyone, finances and all." You stood up from your seat and sat on the table examining their faces.

"And now, I have to kill the people who try to run away, all because the elders force me to." You ended, crying.

These thoughts were a river you kept at bay.

You never wanted anyone besides the elders to know.

You were the leader, the pillar.

If you fall, they fall with you.

"I actually liked All Might as a hero, you know," you said through the tears. "He actually played with me, bought me gifts and treated me like the kid I was supposed to be."

You wiped the tears falling from your eyes.

Todoroki stared at your wrist, seeing what your soulmate wrote.

You chuckled, looking at the heterochromatic eyed man. "It was from my soulmate. I never met them, nor will I ever meet them. I guess they would only know who I truly am." You sniffled.

Shoto started to draw on his left arm a small heart with a distinctive flower in the middle.

Soon you felt your left arm tingle and there it was - the exact same heart with the exact same flower.

You stared at him, his eyes softening. "I wished I saved you earlier, but I'll save you now."

You smiled, looking at his determination. However, it was too late.

You've fallen a bit too deep to be saved now.

"Shoto..." you said, a sad smile gracing your lips, "...you can't. I've killed too many to be just signed off with a pardon or time in jail."

He began tearing. Your heart broke at the sight of him breaking down in front of you.

The cheerful man you knew from the years and years of conversations stood in front of you, willing to do whatever it took to get you in his arms - unchained and free - was sobbing. His cold facade long gone, only covered with grief and sorrow.

You, however, felt a warmth in your heart.

You finally got to meet your soulmate.

You finally are happy.

There and then, you knew what you needed to do.

"I'll tell you everything," you looked at Aizawa, "all the dirt I have on the villains and the vigilantes in Musutafu, I'll tell you."

He stared at you, smiling sadly.

"I'll even tell you who I am. In exchange, give me a full day with Shoto with no surveillance. I promise to not run away or do anything of that sort. I'll even take the death penalty I know that was fixed for me." you ended.

Shoto's anger began to boil. You felt it grow, the temperature in the room rapidly increasing.

Before Shoto could say anything, Aizawa agreed.

Shoto fell back on his chair, his hair now dishevelled - red mixing with white. His tear-streaked face now facing yours, taking in what he believed was your face.

"Shoto, could you please get me a towel? I feel a bit dirty... If possible, could you wet it, too?" You asked Shoto, knowing he needed to leave and get some fresh air. He quickly responded with a nod and went out of the room.

The minute he stepped out of the room, you faced Shinsou.

"I'm giving you full permission, Shinsou. Go ahead and see everything. I don't want to tell Shoto all I know. Let me tell you three who I am, at least," you ended with a chuckle.

You felt yourself relax as Shinsou soon entered your consciousness. It didn't feel painful or numb, like how Midoriya described it to Uraraka and Iida. It was as if someone just entered your room and wanted to see the things in it. Maybe it was because you willingly let him do it...

The feeling you had while he was reading your mind was as if you were with your mom in the small swimming pool she rented when you were a kid.

She gripped on your sides as she taught you how to swim, telling you to let the water be your friend and not oppose it.

It was calming... relaxing...

The minute you felt him leave, you felt the control of your body come back to you.

You saw sadness in Shinsou's eyes when he stared back at you. You just smiled and nodded at him, not knowing what to do.

Soon, Aizawa removed your handcuffs. You immediately stretched your wrists, moving your palms in a circular motion.

Shoto came rushing in with a bowl of water, a cloth and a bar of soap. He placed it in front of you and gave you a kiss on your head, leaving you a blushing mess.

He sat back on his chair and faced you, waiting for you to remove the dirt on your face to see your features better.

"Let's get this out of the way, shall we?" you chuckled, dipping the cloth in the water and slowly rubbing your face. You rubbed your hands with the bar of soap and then proceeded to rub the soap in your hands on your face, feeling your scars. After rinsing the soap off, you faced the three men.

"Hi, I am L/N Y/N, also known as Persephone." You looked at them, enjoying the shocked look on their faces.

You saw him begin to tear again. You instinctively got up and hugged him from the back. You began to rub the tears away, stopping any more from falling from his precious face. He began to relax into your touch, slowly placing the back of his head against your collarbone.

"Shoto," you said, turning your face to face him, "In my hand claw, there is a USB in a compartment right beneath the palm area. It contains everything on Ahnia Technologies. The money, the technology yet to be released along with the data on Diavolos. I'm leaving it to you."

"Don't cry, okay? I only have you for a few more hours, no more crying." You said, giving a kiss on his cheek.

"Help the people in Diavolo. Yes, some of them have done extremely bad things, but it was all because of me and my tyrant father," you clarified. "Help them live better lives, okay?"

You felt him give you a nod and you smiled.

You released yourself from the hug, looking at Aizawa. "I believe I can leave now, right?"

Shoto grabbed you by your wrists and ran out of the building. "I am going to make it the best 23 fucking hours of your life."

And it was.

The few hours you spent with Todoroki had been the best hours of your life.

It didn't feel sappy as the stories the elders used to tell you. It felt comfortable and right just to be with him.

The view of him eating cold soba in front of you, you both singing your lungs out to Paramore, you both relaxing at a book cafe - all of it - it felt just comforting and how a home should feel like.

The best part of it all - he could introduce you to his friends since they didn't know you were Persephone.

You hung out with Midoriya, Iida, Ochako, Tsuyu and Momo for 4 whole hours.

They took half the day off - just because Todoroki met his soulmate.

It kept making you think if you were born in a normal family, would have this been your life?

What if you entered a support class and just so happen to meet Todoroki there?

Would your life be like this? Surrounded by a bunch of friends, protecting Musutafu and being helpful to the world you loved?

You were cut off from your train of thought when Uraraka sat beside you. "You know, whenever you both talked to each other when we were in Yuuei, he used to actually giggle reading at your messages. He really wanted to ask for your number and meet up, but he felt he'd be pushing it a bit too far, so he just waited for you to stumble upon you." She said, beaming.

"We really thought he would never meet you, yet here you are! And he scored, man! A tech CEO? Honey, you have money-" You cut Ochaco with your laughter.

"You know he is way richer than me, right?" You said, wiping the tears of joy.

You were brought back to the conversation Uraraka just had with you.

You should've made the first move.

You knew he wouldn't be the one to make the bold moves.

You should've asked him.

You could've had so many dates with him, yet here you are counting down the hours before you get killed.

You felt two arms wrap around you, making you flinch. "You should really stop thinking too hard, Y/N," Shoto said, pressing on the fold formed on your forehead. "The day is too precious for that."

After saying goodbye to his friends, he drove you to his apartment.

To say it was beautiful is an understatement.

There were so many potted plants that enhanced the small gold accents he placed throughout the small apartment. It was the perfect mix of greens with the feel of a modern-day home.

"For one of the richest Japanese people in the world, you have a very small apartment," you said, chuckling. "It's perfect."

For the rest of the day, you both binged on movies, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

You played with Todoroki's fingers that were wrapped around your waist. His head was directly on the not of your head. He then pressed his nose on your neck, deeply breathing in your scent, humming softly.

This was all you needed.

Him in your arms and you in his.

In his small, quaint apartment, away from everyone else.

Soon, his phone rang. You looked at the caller ID and you already knew what was going to happen.

Your time is up.

It was time for you to leave for good.

You felt his hesitation to pick up the phone, so you did it for him.

"Hello Aizawa, where should Todoroki and I meet you?" you asked, feeling the grip on your waist tighten.

"Okay, noted. We'll be there soon," you said, ending the call.

You felt your back getting warmer thanks to the tears falling from Shoto's eyes. "I'm not letting you go."

You can't cry now.

You need to be strong.

This isn't the time to succumb to the sadness, Y/N.

You turned your back to face your soulmate. You pressed your forehead and placed your hands on his cheeks. "Todo..."

He didn't reply.

He didn't want to.

"Todo..." you whisper again, your voice slightly shaking.

He puts his hands on yours, his sobs turning into sniffles.

You raised his face to face yours, eyeing his lips. Your thumb grazes on his burn, his eyes immediately closing, enjoying the feeling.

Slowly, you placed your lips on his. In an instant, he responded, pressing his lips on yours. Small sparks emitted from that small contact. Each time his lips devoured yours, you melted even more. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could.

Your hands left his cheeks and your arms moved to the back of his neck. You entangled your fingers in his dual-coloured hair, earning a small groan from him.

You soon pulled away. You placed the pad of your thumb on his lip, enjoying the feeling of it.

"Let me talk, okay?" you said. He soon nodded, knowing you wanted to get some things off your chest.

"Thank you for this, Sho. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted in these few hours, and for that, I am eternally grateful," you said, smiling weakly. "...You wanna know something?"

His eyes widened, focusing solely on you.

"The whole day I wondered if I didn't take over the mafia, how would we collide? Back then, I tried running away so many times. What if I managed to do it?" you started.

"I definitely would've tried out for UA for the support classes. I might have passed and entered 1-H. Maybe you needed to touch up your gear and you would've met me. But knowing how thick-headed we both are, we would've not seen the marks on each other's arms," you both laughed.

"We maybe would've crossed paths in the second year. I most probably would have developed a crush on you and maybe after seeing our marks, we would've begun dating." You said, cupping his cheeks. "Maybe we would be even sharing this very apartment."

"But that's not how our lives worked out. I got caught every single time and eventually gave in. I became the leader of Diavolos and I killed all those people, even the very person who gave me a glimpse of life as a normal kid," you began to tear, "I don't want to live like this anymore, Sho."

"I can't live remembering every single person I killed. I can't live carrying that Haladie blade and iron claw and not want to die almost every second. I can't live in this apartment without giving you all of me when you so easily can," you took a minute to calm yourself down, "I don't want to live anymore, Shoto."

Shoto's face darkened. "So, you're planning to leave me here, after - what - 25 years of waiting for you? You can't be this selfish, Y/N."

You knew that this was selfish.

Heck, anyone would know that this is selfish.

"I need to repent for my sins, Shoto. No community work can suffice for all the villainy I've committed," you ended.

The silence that ensued was deafening.

The sniffles that came from the both of you with the sound the fan gave off were the only sounds to come after.

After a few minutes, Shoto spoke. "All my life, I thought meeting your soulmate was something the Devil wished upon you. My father basically drove my mother to insanity and made my own oldest brother become a villain," he began. "I wish I could say the same about ours, but I can't."

"These few hours were the best fucking hours of my life. Every single moment I had with you is forever engraved in my mind, Y/N. You so easily broke my walls, ever since we were small," he gripped on you tighter, "I will always remember your small words to get me moving, how you'd push me to do more, to talk more and become more social."

"I love you, Y/N, but I need to give you away, right?" he said, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. His eyes begged you to deny the last statement, but your mind was already made up.

You nodded your head and pulled him into a hug.

Soon, you both were in his car, driving to where Aizawa asked to meet up.

Once you reached, you followed Aizawa and left Shoto in the room you were in before.

You got on the electric chair, closing your eyes as you felt the wet sponge being placed on your head.

From afar, you could hear Midoriya and Uraraka shouting at Aizawa to stop whatever he was doing, but Shoto stopped them.

You couldn't hear Shoto's answer when they asked why.

WC: 4406.

Ah, my favourite trope; messed up :'). I hope you enjoyed it! Each of the reblogs and likes is helping this blog grow, so thanks for all the support. Until the next fanfic! <3 First time hitting more than 2k word count so 0.0

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