#i would give them a longer full name but I’m not sure what Miguel and Gabi’s full names are so we’re just going with the simplest form | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crowfootwrites · 4 years ago

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Bruises | Part II [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Part II of the Nestor two-shot. This part is significantly longer than the first part, but we get to see Nestor takin' care of business, so. Also, there's a Marcus cameo.

Warnings: implied violence; gun usage; language | Words: 1,861

Part I of Bruises

Two days later, you’re back at work, opting for a floral catsuit to keep your bruising covered. Your sides, back, and thighs are starting to look pretty gnarly.

Nestor had indeed taken you to the hospital and stayed with you while doctors performed a series of ultrasounds and CT scans to check for any internal hemorrhaging; he was on the phone for a while and you could hear snippets of angry conversation, likely with Miguel or Marcus about finding the guy that did this. When you were given the all-clear, Nestor had taken you home, insisting on you taking it easy. He had made dinner and curled up with you on the couch, trying to avoid jostling you at all costs. When the two of you had finally made your way to bed, his fingers gently caressed you and he pressed soft kisses against the deep violet bruises blooming across your torso. You saw the quick flash of heartbreak in his eyes at seeing you hurt, and you had curled against him, falling asleep safely in his arms.

It’s a Tuesday and it’s early, so the club is still fairly slow. You’re bartending tonight, thankfully, glad to have a large slab of wood between you and everyone else. You’re not sure what progress Nestor has made on finding the guy, but you still have your job, so you count your blessings and don’t ask questions.

Another blessing: the other bartender for the evening arrives, and it’s an intimidating-looking girl you’ve worked with a few times named Morgan. All but the most confident (or the stupidest) patrons find her pin-straight black hair, severe makeup, and perma-frown a little daunting. No one ever fucks with Morgan and you’re glad to have her beside you for the night.

Things start to pick up around 11 and suddenly, it’s busy, even for a Tuesday. Morgan leans over to remind you about the drink special your boss is promoting, and you groan internally, knowing the tips are the only thing making it worth your while. You and Morgan make a good team, supplying drinks at a breakneck pace while club lights flash around you, obscuring most of what’s happening past the first row of patrons at the bar.

You’re throwing together a Jack & Coke when you hear it. The voice sends panic jolting down your spine as it requests a Budweiser. You stare at your trembling hands, a lime wedge clutched between your fingers.

You force your eyes upward and it’s him. The same slicked back brown hair, the same oily smile, even the same leather jacket. Your eyes widen and he looks back at you with a calculating gaze. Your immediate reaction is a desire to run. But as soon as the thought appears you dismiss it. The club is packed, and it would be easy for him to try something in the middle of a throng of people. No, the safest place for you is behind the bar, where other people can keep their eyes on you.

You force a smile that you’re sure comes out as more of a grimace.

“Sure thing,” you tell him, the pitch of your voice just a little too high. You hand the Jack & Coke to its owner, managing to spill a little on your shaking hands, then head over to the cooler for the beer.

You can feel his eyes on you and your stomach turns, bile burning in your throat. In the dark corner of the bar, shielded partially from view by Morgan, you can feel yourself breaking down. Your eyes flash around you in a panic. Everything and everyone feel too far away. You don’t see the bouncer by the door, and there’s no escape route that doesn’t take you past the man staring at you from the end of the bar.

You’re not sure what to do so you call the person you trust the most.

Nestor answers on the first ring. “Amor?” His voice is, understandably, apprehensive.

A whimper steals through your lips before you can get the words out. “He’s here.”

“Are you inside?” Nestor’s tone has lost all sense of worry. His words are clipped, business-like, and you know this isn’t going to end well.

“Yeah, I’m working the bar with Morgan,” you mumble, dropping your head into your hands as Morgan looks over at you with concern.

“Stay behind the bar,” he commands. “If he tries anything, break a bottle, get a paring knife. Whatever you gotta do, mi amor. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

The line goes dead and you take a couple deep breaths, glad that, despite what’s about to happen, Nestor is coming. You grab the Budweiser out of the cooler, pop the cap and plunk it on the bar top in front of him, not meeting his eyes.

“How’s your night going, babydoll?” The words slither out of his mouth deviously and you swallow around the knot in your throat. Your eyes glance to digital clock beside the register. Thirteen minutes to go.

“Busy,” you grind out through gritted teeth. You move to the middle of the bar to help a waiting customer, and the man’s eyes follow you as you make drinks. He doesn’t leave the bar. He sits and leers and you wonder if he thinks that he’s going to follow you out again at the end of the night. As if you wouldn’t have learned your lesson? Good thing he won’t be here ‘til closing, you think, as your eyes flicker obsessively to the clock, counting down the minutes until Nestor arrives.

Nestor, apparently, makes very good time when he’s angry, because you see him come through the door of the club with two minutes to spare. An audible sigh of relief passes your lips as his eyes find yours over the crowd and he makes his way to the bar. You bite your lip as your gaze lands on Marcus talking to the bouncer who has returned to his post. The bouncer, the same one who was working the night you were attacked, glances at you, then nods to Marcus. Marcus disappears into the crowd behind Nestor. You can’t help the tightening in your chest. This is going to be bad.

You come to stand in front of the man so Nestor knows who to see about their little assault problem. The man, still unaware of Nestor and Marcus’ approach behind him, winks nauseatingly at you and just as he reaches over the bar for your wrist, a firm hand clenches around his forearm and pulls back. The man jerks back on the bar stool and spins to face two vicious looking men in suits.

The man sputters, trying to yank his arm free, but Nestor has no intention of letting him go. “Who the fuck are you?” the man yells. You glance at Nestor’s hold on the man’s arm, his knuckles turning white as his grip intensifies.

Marcus paces around to the other side of the man’s stool, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “We hear you like to hit women,” he says nonchalantly, bringing his mouth close to the man’s ear. His one free arm flies up, trying to hit Marcus, but Marcus was expecting it. He grabs it and yanks it behind the man’s back. Marcus steps back just slightly, drawing out his gun, keeping it low so as not to alarm the crowd. You see the added length of a silencer on the end of it as Marcus shoves it into the man’s side and you step forward.

“Not in here, please,” you beg, and Marcus smiles at you benevolently.

“Mija, what do you take me for? I would never,” he says, and you cock an eyebrow, knowing full well he would.

Between the two of them, Nestor and Marcus hustle the man outside as he yells frantically over the crowd. He can’t really be heard over the music, and no one appears to notice, likely assuming security was removing him. They take him to the back, towards the back door of the club that leads into the alley where he attacked you. The heavy door slams shut with a note of finality, and you try to put it out of your mind. It’s out of your hands anyway. It was out of your hands the minute you told Nestor about it.

You see Morgan looking over at you as you try to get back to work, willing your hands to be steady. She seems to know better than ask, though, and you’re grateful for that. Thirty minutes later, Nestor comes back in through the front door of the club, nodding at the bouncer as he passes. The crowd has thinned out and the bar is considerably less busy. Nestor makes his way over and you run out from behind it to wrap yourself around him in a hug. The fingers on your right hand find their way to their usual spot around one of Nestor’s braids and you give it an affectionate tug. It’s slight, but you feel him sink into your embrace, seemingly as relieved as you. You pull back and scan him from head to toe, your heart racing. He appears unscathed, but you do notice the tiniest drop of blood on his dress shoe and point it out to him. He frowns and grabs a cocktail napkin off the bar and leans to down to rub it off, as you release a tired chuckle. He crumples the napkin and puts it in his pocket, then caresses your cheek, tucking you against his body.

“He won’t be bothering you anymore,” he murmurs.

You sigh, partly relieved, partly concerned for Nestor. “¿Lo mataste?” you ask hesitantly, not sure if you’re ready for the answer.

Nestor pulls away to look at you dubiously, as though he can read you like a book. “You really want to know?”

“I feel like I need to,” you say with a shrug, but your grip remains tight on Nestor.

A hard look passes briefly over his eyes before he gazes back down at you with a lopsided smile. “We made sure he won’t be touching anything he’s not supposed to anymore.”

Your face contorts as you wonder what they did with the fingers, but you opt not to ask.

“And he’s not gonna come back?” you ask, your voice small. You’re sure Nestor can feel your heartbeat clamoring against his chest.

“Not unless he wants to die,” Nestor whispers soothingly, and you let out a heavy exhale. “And I talked to Jimmy at the door. He gets anywhere near this place, they call me or Marcus.”

Tears sting your eyes, and you sniff as you pull Nestor tighter against you. “Thank you,” you mumble into his lapel. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, what now?” you ask, unsure what a person does after they dismember someone in the darkened parking lot of a club.

Nestor pressed a kiss against your forehead, and you could feel his lips curling into smirk against your skin. He pulled away and met your eyes with a shrug. “Now we go home.”

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc #mayans fanfic

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years ago

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Locura Mia <3

Remember when Betty clarified everything to Mario and Armando about Nicolas role in Terra Moda and general manager?

She let them know that though Nicolas did manage Terra Moda that he didn't do anything without her say and that she was still the legal representative of Terra Moda.

One: that sets aside the fear of Betty giving too much responsibilities to Nicolas for the sake of him noticing her as she clears the air that she is the one with the last say.

Two: that Nicolas has Betty blinded.

This is both Mario's and Armando's worry, they talked about it at the cocktail the night before and Betty goes to clear the air so they aren't worried or distrusting of them.

However they still decide to enact the sinister plan.

When Armando realizes that Betty potentially cares for him as more than her boss its when the guilt of hurting sets in but when he hears Betty speaking on the phone with Nicolas he decides that he will make Betty fall in love with him.

Now, I want to make it clear that Armando is not in love with Betty. He's confused about his feelings. As well that Armando is worried about Eco Moda, the future of it, and his. That's why he agrees to do that.

Later that night when Betty returns to the meeting room after having spoken to Nicolas she tells them that because she's staying to work that he{Nic] will be going to talk and deal with the lawyer and Armando gets mad at her but she explains why it's important that they do that and Mario agrees.

Then Armando tells Betty to bring him the entire bottle of whisky and she asks if he's well and that he's drinking too much which he tells her to bring it to him.

When she leaves the room Armando tells Mario that she's no longer listening to him or obeying him.

This again proves again that Armando isn't solely worried about the company as now his subconscious is the one leading as he now worries that Nicolas is taking Betty from him.

I do believe that Armando would have fallen in love with Betty regardless of Eco Moda and Terra Moda.

What we have seen so far(before Nicolas was introduced as the love interest of Betty) was Armando slowly building a friendship with Betty as he was also developing feelings for her but all of a sudden these small moments of him just simply liking to spend time with Betty at the office and letting his guard down and letting her into his personal life come crashing into a wall of realization that he isn't ready to face and when he is being forced to face it he decides to deny it. Had it not happened like that I do think he would have ended up falling in love with her in the long run.

As a writer you have to think of all the possibilities that can happen. A scene you write has different alternative endings and you always go with the best one that pushes the story and the intensity forward.

So when watching the romance begin I often wonder what could have been of that scene and where that could have lead the story. When his original secretary quit because she fell in love with him the girls told Betty that Armando was never even aware of it and that he didn't even pay attention to her, it is a fact that Armando doesn't like getting involved with the employee's of Eco Moda so we can assume that it was true. After all when Bertha mentioned that Mariana had foretold that she'd quite her job Armando didn't even look fazed by it. He had no micro expressions or reaction to that. It was as if it wasn't important to him that she quit or why.

She wasn't important to him and she didn't really matter at all as he tells Betty that if she were to leave Eco Moda he would miss her.

Armando is hella drunk here. His eyes are droopy, he can't stand straight at times and he looks like he wants to run out of there.

Betty despite her feelings is trying to keep everything professional. When Armando tells her that they should cheer for something Betty cheer's for Eco Moda, now here Armando is acting. He isn't really talking with the heart.

I often talk about Armando but I am honestly so excited to finally start talking about Betty and her complexities because this romance isn't just from Armando's perspective but Betty's too and she deserves to be talked about more.

From previous episodes we know Betty had a relationship with a guy named Miguel. We know this because when Roman asked her to go out with them for the night as a joke Betty mentioned it after her Don Hermes didn't let her go and later that night after she got stood up she wrote in her diary something that personally moved me a lot.

"When will someone give me the opportunity to give them my love?"

Most times when we're watching a romantic drama or reading one we get this trope of the main character wanting to be loved themselves. They're searching for someone to love them because they've got this idea that love is meant on what others can give you. Armando is like that. He bases love on what others can give you, just like his parents and Marcela is the exact same way however real love isn't like that at all. That's being selfish.

Real love is wanting to give yourself without expecting anything in return and that's how we see Betty show her love towards Armando but the reason why it moved me so much to hear Betty say that is because she wasn't looking for someone to love her but instead she wanted to give her love, she wanted someone to give her the chance to give all the love she knew she could give to them. Betty, our sweet and kind Betty wasn't looking to be selfish in love.

However because of the fact that she did once love someone, she gave her love to someone who didn't appreciate it and just used her Betty is traumatized. It wasn't just heartbreak that she dealt with but she dealt with a humiliation that broke down her self-esteem more, ruined her self worth and killed her.

Though Betty knows she's "ugly" to people and that because of that no man will ever notice her, she believed that her love, the love she could give, would make someone love her. She believes that real love isn't based on physical attraction but rather a deep rooted spiritual connection with someone. Betty has a very beautiful understanding of love.

So it isn't just because her parents raised her to be a decent human with morals that she is keeping things professional but as a defense mechanism.

She is keeping herself away so she won't suffer again but her emotions start to win over after Armando asks her to dance.

She leans her head closer to him, not resting it on his shoulder, and we hear her inner monologue of "I can't believe it." in a hopeful and shocked tone while Armando's inner monologue is the same words his tone is disgusted.

He is disgusted to be so close to Betty, that he is dancing with an "ugly"(I always put quotation marks when I refer to Betty as ugly because she is very gorgeous to me!) woman.

When they return to the table Betty, as a concerned employee but also someone who is secretly in love with her boss respectfully tells Armando to forgive her for not minding her business but that he's drinking too much and he has to drive.

Notice the shift in tone from Armando's voice. Before he asked Betty to dance and they were talking Armando's tone was superficial. It was manipulative but this time it's careless and he's annoyed.

Again here you can notice in the same scene that shift as he lies to Betty and tells her "I'm enjoying my drinking" he shifts to look at her so they can talk better and his emotions give way here as he says "or what is it? What's your problem, Betty?" his facial expression switches to anger as he asks her in an accusing tone "or what am I so boring?"

Betty quickly tells him no "It's not that."

"Then explain it to me. Since Calderon left all you've wanted is for us to not drink, to not dance, to not do this or that. Beatriz, tell me, am I boring guy?"

I recalled Armando talking to Marcela once(when they were going to decide whether they got married though the church or court) and he told her "It's not about me. Are you sure you want to be married to me for life? I'm a really boring guy and you know that."

Here we can tell the difference in how Armando views these two women. While with Marcela he doesn't care that he's a boring guy, he does care that Betty doesn't think of him that way.

You can argue that Armando is drunk therefore he doesn't know what he's saying but he's manipulative by nature. He can do that sober or drunk and we saw that already in the scene before he asked Betty to dance. Besides have you ever heard the saying that toddlers and drunks have one thing in common and it's that they both can piss their pants but speak the truth.

Armando is a lot more drunk than he was at the start of the night with just him and Betty.

Once again Betty reassures Armando and in a loving voice tells him No , but that she understand he is worried for the company, marcela and that he is in a place unusual for him and with company he's not used to.

Really pay attention to Armando's tone. It constantly shifts from being natural to being forced. You can pick up when he is lying and being manipulative to it being honest.

Before I continue this I want to bring a detail I've noticed that came full circle the night of the museum.

Betty often tells Armando not to explain things, that she understands him. Armando however, unlike with Marcela who he just gaslights and manipulates, with Betty he constantly wants to explain things and talk them through, but Betty telling him that he understand him holds a lot of weight in their conversations because she truly does.

Armando takes in a deep breath, squints his eyes at her, before he speaks. He's thinking of what to say to her and trying to figure her out because unlike all the other women who Armando has been with(it's not because of what he said that he didn't know how to seduce an ugly woman) Betty isn't responding to any of his advances. She continues to keep things professional and behaves like a concerned employee so naturally Armando is confused and trying to figure a way to make things work.

He agrees with her about the first thing she said but disagrees about him not being in a place he'd enjoy that he's having a good time and all of that was said in a natural tone but when he leans closer and whispers drunklike "and as for the company." He widens his eyes and tells her "I love it."

Betty's eyes grow wide and she looks at him and then around. She looks surprised but also scared.

She tells him that she thinks he should drink slower or mix his drink with water and he chuckles at that.

"You're not coordinating with what you're saying."

"What? How am I not coordinating with what I'm saying?" He has a smirk on his face and turns to look at her, making eye contact he tells her "'cause I tell you Beatriz" he switches from openly speaking to now whispering as he finishes off by saying "I enjoying being with you." he says looking around the room. This represents the actual dilema he is facing. We know he does like spending time with Betty, especially in the previous days so we know that's true but notice how he was able to talk so openly before until he had to admit that he likes spending time with her. He whispered it to her and looked around the room. He knows he's somewhere that none of his friends or people in his social circle would be in so he isn't paranoid that they'll catch him. It symbolizes his inner battle. He's embarrassed to be seen with a woman like Betty, so he denies to care for her, however he admits he enjoys her company.

Now Armando lets his guard down, you can tell that he isn't as tense however still feeling nervous, he touches his upper lip and leans forward on the table "I'mma tell you something you know." he chuckles and points to Betty's drink "there with you blackberry juice" he chuckles, he finds it endearing, he touches his lips for a micro second often seen as a sign of nervousness. He's nervous to confess this to Betty or even to say it outloud.

Betty is starting at him freaked out and girl I WOULD TOO.

"See when you started working for me, if they would've fired you then I wouldn't have cared or been affected by it but now if you left I wouldn't be able to bare being without you."the haws theme song starts to play and he crazily looks around him. He really doesn't want anyone to hear him say these things because he is embarrassed to feel this way!

Betty's expression doesn't change. She's like a deer hit with headlights.

"But it's just a matter of custom. I'm sure if I left Eco Moda and I left everything organized for the new assistant they'll accomplish-" she's interrupted by an angry Armando.

As Betty was telling him this he took a drink and then started to rub his eyebrow; self soothing.

"Nonononono! I'm not talking about another assistant. " he hisses at her. "I'm saying that you," He chuckles nervously and swiftly covers his face, smiles and says "this is incredible." he fidgets with rubbing his forehead and his tone of voice is what lets us know he is being truthful to Betty. Here Armando is nervous to confess this, not only because he is confessing it to Betty but because now he has to accept it and no longer deny that he does care about Betty. He is being vulnerable.

Do you remember when you'd talk to your crush in middle school how you'd get, especially when the conversation shifted to talking about who you liked?

Armando's behavior reminds me of that.

The literal translation of what he tells her butchers the meaning as Armando tells her "Yo estoy diciendo, es increible esto, pero usted me haria falta, me haria falta como mujer."

"What I'm saying is that you, i can't believe this, is incredible, but I would feel the absence of you, the absence of you as a woman." his tone is very truthful. It isn't like before where it shifted from lying, manipulation and being somewhat truthful. Now it's coming form the heart and we later get more examples of this.

"Um sir please don't continue drinking anymore."

"Why? Why not? I need to drink, see." He drinks from his whisky. "You know why?" he shivers, slightly coughs because of it and shakes his head. "You know why I need to drink? Because I need to, I need to get out what, get out what I have inside of me about what I feel for you." Betty again is looking at him like a deer with headlights. "This is serious don't look at me like me shocked eyes. I'm going to tell you." He slurs. "Since I found out that you have a boyfriend right-"

"But I don't have a boyfriend."

"well, well, whatever, whatever he is, I don't care." He starts to angirly point his finger on the table and with a tone that matches continues "since I found out that guy Nicolas Mora exists I began to feel like bad." He's hunched forward, leaning towards the table and then turning to Betty, his face is very expressive as he shows that what is saying is hard for him to say because it pains him "like this wimper inside of me, I felt like a discomfort that I didn't like and I reflected, I started to think." He begins to act out him reflecting. "Reflecting. Armando, what's going on with you? and I discovered that I'm jealous, I'm jealous of Nicolas Mora." his eyes are wide and lips pursed, showing that he is stressed or holding back emotion.

"Sir don't joke."Betty's voice is shaky, she looks like she's got her heart in her throat as she is leaning far from him. She is afraid of what he is telling her and on guard.

"Do I look like a clown to you?" Betty shakes her head "No right? I don't play with that, Betty. I don't play with that."

Notice the shift in his tone again. It went from being his natural voice, albit drunk and slurred but still his natural tone, to now again being raspy, it's the best way I can discribe his tone which he has whenever he is being manipulative towards anyone. Armando grabs his glass to drink from it which shows us that now he no longer is being honest.

The next sequence is Armando trying to seduce Betty. She explained that she's got nothing going on with Nicolas and tries to excuse herself but Armando tells her to stay and that she isn't going anywhere.

This is him using his power of position to keep Betty in a situation she wants to run from. It is wrong. We know this and so does the writer as we get the Jaws theme song and a creepy smile from Armando. This is intended to be this way and not to be mistaken as something romantic.

He leans in closer and tells her "You fascinate me." Betty reacts to him being so close and leans forward and puckers her lips and they kiss. Armando's reaction is him being grossed out by it.

For the comedic effect Betty opens her eyes and then faints.

What do we get from this?

Armando is a piece of ish!

Now that that's out of the way.

We see Betty struggle with what's going on. She really is scared of what Armando is doing and saying because she doesn't want to have her hopes up and she's afraid of what it entitles. She doesn't want to get hurt.

Armando as always is all over the place. One moment he is angry, the next annoyed, then grossed out, and then he is being vulnerable, honest and baring his bones and then he is being manipulative. I am personally exhausted, imagine him?

Betty wakes up and apologizes, tells him she doesn't know what what's going on and that she crossed the line. She gets up and leaves and Armando goes after her.

See unlike the women of the past, the models or whatever, Betty isn't reacting like he expects her to. She isn't flirting, fawning, getting closer to him. She is in her seat silent while he speaks, telling him to stop drinking, that he doesn't know what he's saying.

Betty runs out of that place and once outside she touches her lips and thinks to herself "He kissed me, he kissed me."

I already mentioned how someone else wrote a post about Armando and the reason he doesn't date women outside of his social circle and here, now, in this scene he is going against that. He is doing the very thing that he lectured Mario about.

He used his position of power to keep Betty there. We get a scene of Armando sitting at the table with his head down and his fist clasped together, unlike with Mario who did that to show power, Armando's body language allows us to see that he is doing it to self-sooth.

I imagine that he is processing everything but mostly feeling guilty for what he is doing. Guilty for taking advantage of Betty and following through with the plan to seduce her and then it hits him that he kissed her. He touches his lips over and over again, it doesn't seem like he's wiping his lips as he gently rubs them and repeats that he kissed her. His brows furrow and instead of having a face of disgust he shows to have a face of confusion because now he is left with the feelings that that kiss produced and left in him. As well as him realizing what he is capable of doing.

Again, Armando is aware that Betty isn't society's standard of Beauty and aware that she isn't want he imagined in his perfect woman body wise, so he is grossed out by the idea of having something physical with her because of his obsession with perfection. This doesn't mean he is grossed out by her, just the idea of her, if that makes sense.

Which I know it's hard to understand, muchless explain right now but I am tired and hungry so I will leave y'all off here.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

'Til next time :)

Ps again ignore my typos.

#analysis of ysblf #armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty ysblf #betty la fea #betty #yo soy betty la fea #betty pinzón solano

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thesolotomyhan · 4 years ago

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Narcos México/Narcos: Dating them would include: (6/7)

real quickly mis amores! I know everyone on this fandom is in love with this king, the man, the myth, and the legend Pacho mf Herrera, so I tried my best to keep gender neutral -I know I’m really bad at that, im sorry! :( I might’ve slipped up on the NSFW part, forgive me, but I hope I did alright, enjoy! :))

Also, I want to thank the lovely queen @cheriehyuck for giving me inspiration on this, sorry to bother you💖 I luv u💫

Tags: @fandomnerd16 , @visintaes , @sheeshgivemeabreak

Warnings: NSFW!

dating Pacho would be so passionate and so full of intense love, it makes my heart hurt

Su vida no está completa sin ti :(

You can’t convince me otherwise that he’s a softy for his partner, he’s able to let his guard down-

Whenever you’re not with him, he can be the most serious mf there is, he’ll be constantly clenching his jaw and carrying a scowl on his face,,,

But, when you are with him, he’s smiling nonstop with the biggest fucking heart eyes -he’s whipped , no one can make him feel that way other than you-

There is never a dull moment with him,, he’s always making you laugh with the things he’ll whisper into your ear

Can you imagine him doing this shit in front of Miguel Angel tho?

Like the way he’ll hug you and whisper to you as he stares down Miguel, who’s already scared shitless with your appearances

It only makes Felix sweat even more when he sees you laugh as Pacho smiles down at you and back to Miguel, -

He always has his hands resting on your waist as he walks around with you with the smugest look on his face,,,

God, he doesn’t even have to introduce you to anyone because they already know who you are, like they’re already getting up to kiss your cheek and welcome you both- the power*

He’s so soft for you, anything you need or want, he’s doing it for you with the smallest smile, no questions asked

Like, you’ll both be at a party and then you’ll mention that you want a drink from the bar and he’s getting up so fast, he almost knocks over the whole fucking table to get you your drink

I can see Chepe roasting the shit out of Pacho for that, like

“Hijueputa, Pacho, con calma, no se va ir la cantina”

Then like Gilberto’s wise ass is cutting in like,

“Chepe, pues, son pajaritos enamorados, dejenlos, tu ya pasaste por eso”

He would get so much shit for the things he’s willing to do for you, but if it makes you happy, then you best believe he’ll do it again.

And honestly the Cali cartel live for seeing how you just have to snap your fingers and Pacho’s already moving,

God, they listen like chismosos when you talk about your and Pacho’s relationship, they’re invested, -

Pacho is a fashion icon ™,,, so you best believe he has the best, top of the line outfits for you, :))

Taking you out for dates is one of his favorite things to do honestly,,

He’s making sure you enjoy everything he has to offer and is always surprising you with the most elegant gifts and surprises porque el amor de su vida se lo merece

God, can you imagine him bringing live musica to your dates so he can dance with you,

“Bailamos, mi amor?” -the way he’ll smile at you as he extends his hand out to you is everything

Speaking of,,, dancing dates! :D

At all hours of the day, he’s always down to take you dancing

You two are the shining stars at parties/clubs because wow- the way your bodies just turn into one with your perfect moves -

You’ll have everyone drooling at just how phenomenal you both look together, especially with the way you both look at each other, like it’s only the two of you in the room-

Pacho loves taking you on luxurious vacations, he’s all about that,, nothing beats the feeling of just getting you all to himself on a beautiful landscape, far away from Cali and business,

*Protective Pacho*,, holy shit would he take your security seriously

If someone even looks at you wrong, he’s not letting them breathe for another second longer

I can’t even imagine how protective he gets after Gilberto’s daughters wedding incident

The world fucking stops as he walks up to your crying form,,

The way he’ll cradle your head into his neck and hug you-

“No llores, mi vida, estamos bien” - literally shaking in anger that someone almost hurt you and took you from him-

ok can you imagine the way you’ll try to stay up for him when he’s away for dirty business, making sure he came home in one piece,,

The preocupacion he has when he sees you’re still awake, “amor, que haces todavía despierta/o?”

Fuck, the way you’ll both hold eachother has me shaking,- you’ll be holding his face, making sure he isn’t hurt

As he has his hands resting on top of yours

“Estoy bien, amor” -let me go sob

But the times you accidentally do fall asleep, he’ll come up to you and softly kiss your forehead as he carefully settles in beside you- I can’t

Pacho buying you a home for the both of you-

Idk, he just wants to express how he never wants to live without you, he wants to come home to you everyday,, 🥺

I definitely see him just spacing off when he watches you, like when you’re getting ready for bed and he’s already waiting for you to come to lay next to him,,,

You feel him staring as you look over your shoulder and smile at him,,, again the softness

“Te vez magnifica/o”

The small smile he has as he pulls you on top of him- i need to stop

NSFW:

Helmer ‘Pacho’ Herrera, a fucking sex icon, here we go

I have so many scenarios, so bear with me,,

He’s not one to ever turn down a blowjob, like, wow, you his innocent flower, choking on his cock, is a sight that will never leave his memory,,

To be honest, I can see him relaxing out on the balcony or something, with a drink in his hand,, breathing out a content sigh as he looks down at you, gagging on him as he slowly thrusts into your mouth-

Moving your hair out of your face as he smirks at you,,

“Eso, mi amor, asi me gusta que estes” -ok

The eye contact is what’s making me weak, your watery eyes locking with his dilated ones as his thrusts become more rough,,,-

GOD, does this man make sex so fucking passionate

Like, you’ll be desperately trying to take his clothes off, as he just laughs and continues to kiss you, not bothering to take your clothes off yet,,

I just know he’s taking his damn time when he gets you on the bed,slowly taking off your clothes, caressing your whole body, making you lose all your patience as your practically begging him to just fuck you, tears of frustration coming out when he stops your hips from moving,,

“Dime cuanto me necesitas, mi vida, y ya te lo meto” I-

He’s not doing anything until he has you babbling and whimpering about how much you need him-

The way he’ll harshly grip your hip as he brings your leg to wrap around his waist and places his hand around your throat when he pushes into you-

ok so I don’t see Pacho as a “love making” type, nope, I see him going in rough with no time to adjust, the lust is just too overpowering

He has you whining from how fast but so good his rough pace is making you feel-

“No que me necesitabas? No hagas eso, no llores, te estoy cuidando, mi amor”

as he’s reaching in between your bodies to stimulate you even more- oh god

He’ll get lost in the feeling of you moaning his name and leaving marks on his back as he mercilessly pounds into you

Fuck, or the way he’ll pull you by your hair when you bite down on his shoulder,, as he hastily kisses you, drowning out your moans-

Another thing that really gets him going is when he grabs both of your hands and holds them above your head with one on his hands as he pounds you into the bed-

The way you’ll arch into him because you just need to feel more of him,,

Riding Pacho- h o ly shit,,

he loves seeing how you’ll try to urgently get yourself off on top of him,

he’ll let you do all the work as he sits there and caresses your body, smirking at how your bounces become more desperate

the chuckle he lets out when your movements falter and begin to grind your hips on his instead as you grip his hand like an anchor

“pensé que dijiste que podrías aguantar, sigue adelante, amor, sé que puedes "

As he pulls your body closer and drags his thumb to stimulate your clit,,, he’ll thrust up into you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself -wow

This man has no vergüenza , he’s fucking you out in the patio or balcony where he just knows at any minute his servants can see you,, someone kick me out

He’s had you wear only his fancy shirts at times because he lives and breathes for the sight of that,,,

I’m sorry, but he gets rock hard when he sees you walking around in his things-

Ok, so you all know that scene when he called Miguel about his cocaine shipment being ready as he revved up his motorcycle- hot

Can you imagine, instead of that, this mf would call Miguel in the middle of having you screaming his name absurdly loud-

He would have his fingers inside of you as he stares at how your trying to silently thrash on his bed, gripping his wrist, as he just talks normally to Miguel about how his 70 tons are ready,,,

He’ll curl his fingers just to have you scream his name as he lightly chuckles-

the uncomfortness from Miguel’s end has Pacho smugly saying,

"¿qué ?, vos nunca tuviste a alguien gritando tu nombre por el placer que le das, Miguelito?” -ok

Morning Sex is thinggg

Like, it’s the best way to start the morning with you moaning out his name with the view of the hacienda through the ‘window’

You two were already naked from last night, so why not take advantage of that,,

god, can you imagine the both of you laying on your sides, facing the window, where you can barely see your reflection,,

he’s resting your leg on his inner elbow, slowly thrusting from behind you, kissing your neck,,

“Buenos dias amor, como dormistes? Hm”

His hand is traveling between your legs to help get you off quicker

he just admires how your moaning out his name, letting your head fall back on him,,

- he’ll be gradually picking up the speed of his thrusts and hand as he forces you to look at him, wanting to see how you fall apart- i need help

#narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico imagines #narcos imagine #pacho herrera x reader #pacho herrera #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #narcos

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 18

I’ll be switching point of views for this one so buckle your seat belts. I just hope I do the character’s justice because it’s been a minute since I watched the show. Also going to be changing the perspective because... My writing makes no sense and it probably never will.

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

“I'm saying we need a new plan, because next time, one of us is going to be too hurt to heal.” Derek led Scott and I into the subway car in the middle of the abandoned depot. The unfortunate reality is that Jackson was no longer Jackson, and we only had one option left.

Scott sighed, “Ugh, I get it. We can't save Jackson.”

Derek sat down on one of the seats, “We can't seem to kill him, either. I've seen a lot of things, Scott. I've never seen anything like this. Every new moon's just gonna make him stronger.” He said grimly.

“But how do we stop him?”

“I don't know. I don't even know if we can.” He shrugged, sounding defeated. I could imagine how he felt, powerful but so helpless.

“Maybe we should just let the Argents handle it...” He suggested.

“I don’t know if they could help.” I crossed my arms over my chest, “Chris filled him with lead and it didn’t stop him. I don’t think they could handle it either.”

“I'm the one who turned him. It's my fault.” Derek let his head hang.

“That’s not true.” I looked at him sternly.

“You didn't turn him into this! I mean, this happened because of something in his past, right?” Scott asked.

Derek scoffed, “That's a legend in a book. It's not that simple.”

“What do you mean? What aren't you telling me?”

“Why do you think I'm always keeping something from you?” He looked up at Scott.

“Because you always are keeping something from me!”

“Well, maybe I do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“Doesn't being part of your pack mean no more secrets?”

Derek sighed, looking down at his hands, “Go home, Scott. Sleep. Heal. Make sure your friends are safe... 'Cause the full moon's coming, and with the way things are going, I've got a feeling it's gonna be a rough one.” Scott left with a huff, leaving Derek and I alone.

“Der...” I said softly, running my fingers through his dark hair. He closed his eyes, humming softly.

“You can’t blame yourself, you could have never imagined what could have happened.”

“I thought there was something wrong with my bite.” His voice was barely audible, “Something wrong with me.”

“No, no, no.” Kneeling down, I cupped his cheeks in my hands, “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“You have to say that. I’m your mate.”

I only cringed a little at his use of the word “mate” unironically, “That’s not true. I give you criticism at any chance I get. But that’s mostly because you keep turning kids into soldiers.”

“I guess you’re right.” His lips turned up slightly, “You’re like my conscience, but a lot better looking than this mug.” He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. Grinning, I kissed his nose and stood up.

“I gotta get home, make sure everyone’s alright. I’ll see you later.” I winked, making my way out of the depot.

I got home late, but not any later than the usual lately. As soon as I closed the door, I saw Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. He was pouring whiskey into a glass, probably wasn’t his wish. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in a while. Walking quietly, I placed my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He looked up at me slowly, blinking his pale green eyes at me.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, (Your Mom’s Name).” He said, “(Y/N) is so distant and she won’t talk to me anymore.” I was told once or twice that I resembled my mother, but in his drunkenness, he must have thought I was her.

“I mean, hell... She was dating someone for months and she didn’t even tell me. Sure, he was a person of interest... But he was also her friend.”

Smiling softly, I guided him to a standing position, “No, Noah, she’s just going through a lot right now. She’s still learning and growing. And you’re doing the best job you can and she loves you for it.” I helped him to his room and into bed.

“Goodnight, (Y/M/N).” He yawned, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Noah.” I said, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath and went down the hall to Stiles’ room. He was sleeping away in the most ridiculous position possible, having fought off a kanima and saving his friend from death. I was just happy to see him there, alive and breathing.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I whispered, closing his door all the way.

It was the night of the full moon and my body was already feeling the effects of it. But since my self training/ anger management was doing well, Derek gave a hesitant okay for working with Scott’s Scooby Gang to keep a look out at Lydia’s birthday party. Derek and I had the betas in the railway car in the depot. He was looking through his family’s chest again.

“What is that?” Isaac asked, looking quizzically at the symbol on the box.

“It’s a triskele.” Boyd said, “The spirals mean different things: past, present, future; mother, father, child.”

“Do you know what it means to me?” Derek asked.

“Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“That’s right. It’s a spiral, it reminds us that we can rise to one.”

“And fall to another.” I finished. It was one of the few things I remembered word for word from the research we did back when Derek was cousin Miguel.

“Betas can become Alpha, but Alphas can fall to Betas, or even Omegas.” Derek said, continuing to look through the box.

“Like Scott?” Isaac asked.

“Scott’s with us.”

“Really?” Isaac’s voice held just a touch of sarcasm, “Then where is he now?”

“They’re looking for Jackson.” He looked pointedly at me, then back to the group, “Don’t worry, they’re not gonna have it easy either. None of us will. There’s a price you pay for this kind of power. You get the ability to heal” He handed a leather belt connected to a chain to Isaac, “But tonight, you’re gonna want to kill anything you can find.”

“Good thing I had my period last week then.” Erica chuckled. Derek pulled a metal crown from the box, there were screws turned inwards towards where someone’s head would be.

“Well, this one's for you.” Erica’s face immediately changed. Beeping made me look down at my phone.

Stiles:

2006 Swim Team - Lahey was the Coach.

“That’s my cue to leave.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and backed out of the open door, heading out into the open depot.

“Wait.” Derek called after me, catching me before leaving out the door in my car that was finally back from the shop.

“Yes?” I sing-songed, turning around to face him.

“I wanted to give you something.” He said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “You have something from Stiles but you should have something from me. Something that means... More.” From his pocket he produced a silver ring, it had a twisted band towards the top with a triskele cut out of the metal.

I started down at the ring in shock, “Is... Is this a proposal?” His eyes widened.

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I mean, not yet. This... This is a promise. For both of us. You uh, could wear it on your ring finger if you want though-That is if you want it-” I silenced his babbling with my lips.

“I love it.” I smiled, taking the ring and sliding it on my left ring finger. It fit surprisingly, “Thank you.”

“Tonight... I’m probably going to get hurt. Just try to block it out as much as you can.”

“Sounds good. I love you.” I cupped his cheek.

“I love you.” He smiled. My hand slipped from his cheek and I made my way out of the depot.

I parked outside of Lydia’s house and I was actually able to park in her driveway. From what I remember, Lydia’s parties, especially her birthday parties, were supposed to be insane and packed. Yet, I could only see Roscoe. Which meant that Stiles was finally invited. Good for him. I knocked on the front door and waited, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets.

The door opened, revealing Lydia who was vaguely confused by my being at her door. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Sarah?”

“(Y/N).” I corrected her.

“Oh. Well, come in.” She opened the door further, revealing the tray of pink cocktails in her hand, “Have a drink.” I grabbed a pink drink from the tray and cheered it towards her as I went inside, going straight to the back where Scott, Stiles and Allison were sitting on the deck of the pool.

“Is this... everyone?” I asked, sitting besides Stiles in a lawn chair.

"Maybe it's just early?" Scott said, not believing it himself.

Stiles said grimly, "Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job."

"Well, we have to do something because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks..." Allison said.

"She's completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years." Scott pointed out.

"I prefer to think of it as I haven't been on her radar." Stiles said in an offended tone.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I patted his shoulder.

Scott sighed, “We don't owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” Allison crossed her arms over her chest.

“Normal?”

She shrugged, “She wouldn't be the "town whackjob" if it wasn't for us.”

Scott nodded, “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here...”

I pulled out my phone, “I could pull some strings with some people from my year.” I found the group text I had gotten from when I had been abducted, typing in Lydia’s address and the promise of a party and booze.

“Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.” Stiles said, looking down at his phone. He was looking through his contacts, finding: Drag Queen from Jungle.

“Who?” She asked.

“I met them the other night... Let's just say, they know how to party.” He sent off the text then looked over at me.

“What is that?” He asked, motioning with his phone to my left hand.

“A ring. You know what those are, right?” I sipped my drink.

Stiles’ jaw clenched, looking towards the sidewalk, “You gonna marry him.”

“It’s not an engagement ring, it’s a promise ring.”

“Whatever.” He got up, walking inside. I avoided Scott and Allison’s awkward gaze and just took a large gulp of my drink.

In the next ten minutes, the amount of people who showed up was pretty astounding. Town whack job or not, promise people booze and they will come. Walking through the crowd, I saw people that I used to hang around with. A lot of people gave their condolences, lots of staring, sad smiles, but that’s how it was.

“A little jumpy are we, Jackson?” I took a sip out of my drink.

While walking through it hit me - shitty, over priced cologne. And possibly, a terrible attitude. And lizard. I turned quickly and saw Jackson. He was startled by my sudden movement.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then looked away, “I don’t have to explain myself to someone who makes minimum wage.”

"I would watch my back if I were you, (Y/L/N). Full moon makes me feel a certain way." I chuckled and looked down, craning my neck back up to flash him my red eyes.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not a disgusting lizard thing right now, but I could care less that you are trying to intimidate me. You don’t even know why you came here tonight, do you? You’re certainly not here for Lydia.”

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, “You don’t know why you’re here. So that means...” The puppeteer was here, “Good talk, gotta go.” As I walked quickly, trying to find Scott or Stiles, I found Matt getting a drink from Lydia, but he really wasn’t looking at Lydia. He had his eyes trained on Allison and the way he wasn’t looking at her reminded me of the night Michael took me. I didn’t like Allison at the best of times considering she shot me and all, but this was too much to ignore. As I walked towards Matt I was halted, like my feet didn’t want to move from what I saw. Derek was standing by himself near the outside of the house. I walked up to him quickly.

“Derek, what are you doing here? Where are the others?” They couldn’t have transformed then transformed back by now, there was no way.

“There’s been something I’ve been thinking about.” He swirled the drink in his hand, the same drink everyone else had, “You have a habit of making people miserable or getting them killed.”

“Excuse me?” I squinted at me, swallowing thickly. My throat felt dry and was it getting hotter?

“Think about it. Your parents think you’re too weak to keep your secret so they take your life from you, taking you from me. You’re the reason your parents are dead. You got Michael killed.” He stepped forward and with every step, I took one back, “I’m just wondering when it’s my turn to die or even Stiles.”

“Derek, I-” My eyes were watering.

“How about I kill Stiles for you? Save some blood for your hands. Or,” He chuckled, “Would you rather do it yourself.” He started to walk back towards the party. I grabbed his arm to stop him when he abruptly turned.

“You know what, I’ll just let you kill me. You can handle the rest on your own.” He grabbed my wrist and jerked it, my claws flicking out. I tried to pull my wrist away but his grip was too strong.

“No, stop!” I screamed as he slashed my claws across his throat, blood spraying across my face. Suddenly, Derek and blood were gone. All the party goers were going about their business, I was the only one who had seen Derek use my own hands to kill him. I looked over my hand and made sure the blood had been imagined. My eyes were then brought to the pink drink in my hand. This had to be the reason... Lydia spiked the drinks, but with what? I couldn’t even remember how many of these I had. To make matters worse, my stomach got super queasy-

I turned to the bushes and threw up everything that I had eaten that day. If I didn’t feel great, it was worse now. I got a few disgusted looks but that was the least of my problems. I dumped my drink in the bushes and started to stumble forward, looking to find Scott or Stiles. Thinking about it now, my mouth was starting to get itchy which was possibly the worst possible feeling to add onto everything else. I went into the house and upstairs, finding Matt groaning on the floor and Allison rushing passed me.

“Matt?” I asked, helping him off the ground, “What happened to you?” Once on his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Allison happened. She put me flat on my ass.” Probably with good reason.

He squinted at me, “Are you alright?” I shook my head.

“Not really. You got gum or something, that drink left the worst taste in my mouth.”

“No,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a white pill bottle, “But I have some pain meds.”

“That’ll work.” I took the bottle then looked behind me, grabbing a water bottle out of someone’s hands.

“Hey!” The person glared. I glared right back, “Not the time, freshman.” This seemed to scare him enough for the kid to walk away. I opened the bottle and popped the blue capsule in my mouth and chased it with what was not water but actually vodka.

“Jesus!” I spat to the side, “What is wrong with people?” I looked at the bottle, realizing that it had no label.

“Hey, what was that? Tylenol? Ibuprofen?”

Matt smiled, “Mistletoe actually.” I blinked at him, my heart dropping into my stomach.

“What?”

“Mistletoe.” He chuckled, “That’s supposed to knock you guys out, right?” I took a step back and hit the doorframe, already feeling the effects of the poison in my system.

“Using Jackson to kill my murderers is good, but I need protection. You protected me once. From Lahey. And you’re gonna protect me again, whether you like it or not.”

SCOTT

Scott pushed through the crowd, asking anyone who would listen if they had seen Lydia. The drinks she had made had been spiked to create hallucinations. We had to find out why. She spiked the punch with wolfsbane petals which seemed to cause Stiles and Allison to hallucinate too.

Outside, Stiles ran up to Scott, “Hey, I can't find her. And dude? Anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out.” They watched two people cannonball into Lydia’s pool with all their clothes on.

“...I can see that.”

“What the hell do we do?”

“I don't know, but we gotta-”

“I can't swim!” Both their heads turned. Matt was being carried by three people, he was flailing and panicking, “No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't-I can't-” The partiers didn’t listen, throwing him into the pool. He went under immediately. And to their surprise, Jackson and (Y/N) ran to the poolside and both pulled him out.

Once on the pool deck, (Y/N) got Matt on his side, helping him cough up any water he swallowed. They both helped him to stand. Everyone was staring at that point.

“...What are you looking at?” Matt barked at the gawking crowd. Jackson took the time to make his exit. (Y/N) walked towards Scott and Stiles, Matt close behind her.

“Move.” She growled, flashing her bright red eyes. The two parted, letting (Y/N) and Matt through. Immediately after, a siren cut through the air.

“COPS ARE HERE!” Someone in the crowd shouted, causing the party goers to scatter. Scott and Stiles followed the ground out and onto the street. Scott looked down the street and saw them. Matt was standing in front of his car, dripping wet and seething with rage. Jackson in his kanima form was in front of him on all fours and (Y/N) stood at his right, claws out and fangs bared. He’d been under their noses for so long but now that they know, that meant they were in danger, all of them.

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

Read Part 19 here!

Who needs a point a view when you’re under mind control, ammi right?

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

Note

I know it's been said before buy I just have to say I know the whole demetri and yasmine plot was just so that all the gay undertones of the rivalry and obsession and tension between Demtri and hawk could be easily overlooked

Lololol Anon you’re not even WRONG

Once they yeeted Moon out of the picture the writers were like “Oh shit, better No Homo it again!!!”

I guess in the writer’s (very feeble) defense, they DID set it up kinda, by having Demetri be like “Wow!!! I’d love to have Yasmine spit in my face!!!” and then very atrociously trying to hit on her at the beach party. But I thought his sorta-crush on her was just supposed to be like...comic relief??? Like “haha look at this nerdy guy being hot for this sexy popular chick he’ll never, ever get, isn’t it good memes???” I mean, him coming on to her at the party and just FAILING at every level was so incredibly funny BECAUSE of how much someone like her was just...never going to go for a dude like that in a million years. Like I thought that was the whole joke??? And Cobra Kai seems a bit more realism-leaning than some teen shows in how the teenagers actually act, so I figured from that angle it was gonna be the trope of “nerdy guy into hot popular bitchy girl” set up...but then, Reality Ensues, and she’s not only not remotely interested, but mildly to moderately disgusted at the idea. And that’s the comedy of it.

So yeah, after Season 1, I thought we were done with that whole arc, and it was literally just like...a joke “love” subplot to balance out the more serious relationship difficulties Miguel was having at the time. But now...Yasmine’s back, I guess??? And she apparently did a full 180 and is sorta nice now and went through a bunch of Character Development offscreen, none of which we got to see? So I GUESS her and Demetri were hinted to eventually become a thing, just like...very, very poorly. And in “hints” I assumed we were in no way meant to take seriously at all.

But yeah, the Yasmine/Demetri thing DOES seem kinda thrown in last-minute, given how finished that arc felt back in s1. And we only ever really get to see Yasmine when she’s interacting with Demetri, so it really feels like she was only brought back to be his love interest, which like...VERY weird flex, Cobra Kai writers, but okay :/

It IS incredibly sus how much time and energy Hawk and Demetri devote to their rivalry in particular, rather than like...idk, moving on with their lives??? Just ignoring each other and doing their own things, now that they are officially no longer bros and are in different friend circles, etc etc? Like they go OUT OF THEIR WAY to fuck with each other when they could just like...chill and move on. Like Demetri, a socially-awkward dude with limited people skills, works up the balls to get onstage and roast Hawk in front of an entire partyful of peers. Hawk SEARCHES THROUGH AN ENTIRE SCHOOL to hunt down Demetri at the school fight. Hawk goes up to Demetri on the first damn day back at school just to GLARE at him ominously (which I also just realized is RIGHT after some freshman girls give Demetri moony looks as they pass--jealous much???) Later on, Hawk coulda ignored Demetri and finished eating lunch with his Cool New Friends, but instead he goes out of his damn way to bust Demetri’s project and then come over and roast him about it. Demetri then eagerly goes over and reciprocates said roasting and spends that entire fucking soccer game tryna screw with Hawk in particular. They fricken almost IMMEDIATELY go for each other in the Golf N Stuff fight, IIRC. Really, they devote more time and energy to each other and their Rivalry™️ than either does to like...any other character? Like are Eli’s thoughts 90% “what’s the next thing I can do to fuck with Demetri?” Are Demetri’s thoughts 90% “what’s the next thing I can do to fuck with Eli?” Because like...I just don’t think obsessing over another man that much, even in a negative context...is very straight XD

There’s also the fact that their arcs are WAY more intertwined with each other’s than ANY girl either of them dates or interacts with. I mean ffs, Moon dumped Hawk BECAUSE of how he treated Demetri--even Hawk’s supposed Straight Romantic Subplot™️ ties directly back into Demetri! And the only reason Demetri joins Miyagi-Do at ALL and doesn’t just like...fade into the background in Season 2 is to show HAWK SPECIFICALLY that he can “fight back.” And later we have DEMETRI being the one to make Hawk realize he’s gone too far with Cobra Kai (i.e. his guilt after breaking Demetri’s arm) and ultimately being the catalyst that makes Hawk SWITCH SIDES! I honestly think every major point of development for both characters directly involves the other in some way--you could even argue Eli initially becomes “Hawk” in part because Demetri quits Cobra Kai, and isn’t around to stick up for him anymore--so he has to find another way to protect himself from bullying. Even their sense of “dojo rivalry” is mostly just about each other--Hawk’s animosity toward Miyagi-Do lowkey seems to stem almost entirely from Demetri in particular joining it and “betraying” him, while Demetri’s animosity toward Cobra Kai basically entirely comes from Cobra Kai taking Eli away from him. I literally like...cannot think of a single thing in either of their developments that doesn’t tie into the other in a major way.

Like to put it plainly, Moon and Yasmine feel like a single step in each of the boys’ character journeys--a single turning point to spur them in a certain direction. But Demetri and Hawk just...ARE each other’s character journeys. They’re not a step for the other to discover something about themself or get pushed in a certain direction--they just ARE the entire arc for each other, if that makes any sense. Like you could argue BOTH Demetri and Eli/Hawk’s arcs like 90% center on how to navigate their relationship when Eli gains confidence and their interests diverge and they no longer need each other the way they used to. Like??? Name ONE aspect of either of their arcs that doesn’t tie directly into their undying gay love friendship in some way??? It’s INCREDIBLY integral to both their stories and is just...SO much more compelling to watch than either of them making out with hot girls at parties or in the hallway. And them repairing their relationship and/or evolving it as needed, realizing that they love each other too much to let one another go, even if they’re both somewhat different after everything??? And realizing it’s a romantic kinda undying love they’re feeling, because really, what good reason is there for it NOT to be??? We HAVE enough male characters in media already with strictly platonic/brotherly friendships, why not just let two male characters with a compelling story, a strong prior friendship, and REALLY good romantic chemistry just like...be gay??? It feels natural, it’s a good ending to their arc, it feels narratively satisfying in a “Finally having the ‘will they or won’t they’ couple get together” kinda way...why not do it??? It makes ALL the damn sense and would be incredibly thematically interesting and SATISFYING, but y’all writers are COWARDS DAMMIT

Just gonna make that crack ship from Season 1 canon so we can prove that Demetri isn’t gay, no sir??? No Homo my guy??? We can only have one (1) LGBT character per television show, or the “traditional values” viewers will come for us???

Pre Season 3 I honest to god was hoping that part of Demetri’s arc, if he ran into Yasmine again, would be him realizing that he could honestly do better than someone that bitchy and vile, and having enough self-respect to just...lose interest in someone who’s going to push him around, act like he’s beneath her, and talk smack about his friends the second she thinks they’re “lame.” Maybe it isn’t too late though, and we’ll see this in Season 4? Here’s to hoping, because I am going to THROW HANDS if this fricken pairing is ENDGAME endgame. Like...what even do these people have in common, besides getting wedgies??? Do they even have like...any of the same interests??? At all??? How are they going to build a lasting relationship off of...both having gotten a wedgie? And being mean to people sometimes, I guess?

Like, sure. Let them date for a bit--they’re horny teens, they’re prone to jumping into relationships for not exactly the most deep and meaningful reasons. Physical attraction, teenage horniness, and raging hormones are no joke. So sure, I can see them having a fling solely because they both think the other’s hot. But you wanna tell me they’d LAST??? No SIR, I must inform you I Do Not Buy it.

(Tfw you meant to do a short ask making memes about what a crackship Demetri/Yasmine was in Season 1 and you ended up having WAY too much to say about All The Things and now it’s 3 am and you’re typing like a madman. I probably cycled back across the same 5 points like 5 times each because it’s late and I’m not thinking straight, I apologize.)

#hawk x demetri #demetri x eli #binary boyfriends #hawkmeat #demetri x hawk #eli x demetri #elimetri #demetri cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk #yasmine cobra kai #moon cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai season 1 #cobra kai season 2 #cobra kai season 3 #my askbox

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probably-writing-x · 5 years ago

Text

Knocked off guard.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by @isthatmaryanna : the other one is with aron where he is like super stressed on the filming of season 4 and he ends up bumping the female reader on the set, she apologizes and he got very mad and stuff like that just because he is stressed, and then he finds out she’s new to the cast and is chris new love interest and he starts to get a crush of her and gets jealous when she’s filming scenes with christian till one day he kisses her when they are recording (Wrote this with Samuel instead of Christian so that it matches season 4🤍)

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You’d never known nerves like this until today, they’d been basically eating away at you since you’d first woken up and they hadn’t ceased yet. You were terrified of the impression you’d make on your first proper day of filming for Élite and even more terrified of all of the things that could go wrong. You’d made sure to wake up early enough and try to get onto set within enough time but already found yourself rushing to catch up with the hectic schedule.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as you try to find your way back to where they’d told you to meet for your first call to makeup and hair.

You’re so busy trying to make sense of the timetable they’d given you that you don’t notice anybody else around you. Only stopping when you knock into one of them abruptly.

“Fuck!” They exclaim as the drink in their hand spills all down their outfit.

You recognised the clothes instantly as the Las Encinas uniform and realise painfully that you’d just made a first impression on one of your cast mates by knocking into them.

“I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going-“

“Clearly!” The boy scoffs, trying to pat down the wet patch now covering the front of his crisp white shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stop as you glance up and recognise him as Arón, who played Ander in the show.

“I’m going to be late,” He rolls his eyes, “Just please try and keep your eyes ahead of you next time.”

With that, he takes off in the opposite direction as you try to regain composure and continue in the direction you’d been previously heading towards.

You reach hair and makeup and it relaxes you when the team are genuinely nice to you for the whole time. They ask you about your new role as Samuels love interest and you chat to them about everything they felt you should know about working on the show.

“No I don’t think we need to-“ A new voice speaks as the door opens and two guys walk in to have their hair and makeup done, “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You stand up and recognise the boy as Omar, who played his same name character on the show, “Yeah, no, I don’t think we have. I’m (Y/n), I’m playing Savannah.”

“Yes! I completely forgot you were starting today!” Omar exclaims, “Well, I’m Omar, and this is Arón.”

You glance to the boy that had entered with him and notice him instantly as the boy you’d knocked into earlier. His eyes fall to his feet to avoid eye contact as he instead turns to sit down in one of the chairs to get his hair done.

“Dont worry about him,” Omar rolls his eyes, squeezing the boy’s shoulder, “Someone’s being a little grumpy today. Anyway, tell me about yourself. Have you done much acting before?”

Just like that, the impression you’d made on the cast so far seems to clearly improve. You chat to Omar and get up to the stage where it feels as though you’ve known each other for a lot longer than a matter of minutes.

“When are your first scenes?” Omar asks you, “I’ll walk you down to set if you like.”

“I think I have to be there in ten minutes, that would be great thank you!”

He agrees and the two of you head out to start walking towards where you’d first be filming for the day.

- - - - - -

You’re introduced to Itzan who was going to be your main love interest in the show. It’s a relief when he’s genuinely lovely to you and makes it easy to feel natural around him.

“I wouldn’t worry, this place is full of second chances,” Itzan shakes his head as he speaks Samuels line, “All of us here, we’re on at least our fifth chance.”

“Maybe I won’t do so bad then,” You smile, “Thank you, by the way.”

He readjusts his grip on his bag strap and nods bashfully to you, “It was nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

The director yells cut and somehow you find yourself finishing your first full scene of the day. It had gone a lot more smoothly than you’d expected. Especially having started the day by spilling hot coffee over one of your cast mates.

“Omar and Miguel to set for next scene,” One of the crew calls, you think they introduced themselves earlier but it was already becoming overwhelming to remember all of these new people.

You take your seat on one of the black canvas chairs and prepare to watch the scene unfold in which Guzmán and Omar share a heart to heart about Nadia, where Guzmán confesses everything he regrets about what happened between them and what he would’ve done if he’d have had another chance with her before she left. You’re soon joined by someone beside you in the next seat and glance over to recognise Arón on your right hand side.

“So, you’re the new cast member,” He comments, twisting open his water bottle, “You didn’t introduce yourself earlier.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” You return, shifting a little in the chair beneath you.

He scoffs, “I was too busy being late and covered in coffee.”

“I did apologise,” You defend, still slightly nervous despite your hope of appearing somewhat confident.

“And I was stressed.”

The conversation falls flat and you let the silence remain as you watch the scene unfold.

- - - - - -

Over the next couple of days, you’re starting to get settled into the motions of things. You’re starting to remember everyone’s names and the crew have been complimenting you on some of your scenes. Itzan was a good screen partner to have, always making you laugh and giving you tips whenever he felt like you were uncertain.

You’re walking through the different sets when you stumble upon Arón in one of the rooms. Nobody was filming at the moment so you found yourself slightly bemused as you watch him flop face down onto the bed beneath him that was normally used as a bedroom in the show.

“You know the cameras aren’t rolling?” You comment, unsure as to why you bother speaking anyway, “Or did you just need to practise that scene?”

He turns his head and looks in your direction. The two of you had spoken very minimally over the past days as he’d clearly continued that stressed attitude ever since you first met. You’d gotten to the point where you simply treated it as him being completely rude. Even if you didn’t want to accept that.

“I just needed some peace,” He mumbles, shuffling on the duvet of the bed as his arms fall at either of his sides.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you,” You comment bashfully, going to walk away.

“How have you been finding it so far?”

It surprises you. Of course it does. Up until now you’d assumed that he simply just didn’t like you. Perhaps not.

“It’s been good, everyone’s been really friendly,” You smile, “And I think my scenes have been going well.”

“Yeah, they won’t stop telling us how great you are,” He scoffs, “Seems like you’ve made a good first impression.”

“Well, on most people.”

He’s silent this time.

“I should go,” You say, not wanting to say anything more that might ruin the nicest moment you’ve shared with him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. I’ve just been a little stressed,” Arón admits, “I’m not really sure how to approach my storylines this season and I guess I’m just letting it get to me too much.”

“What do you mean?” You walk into the room and take a seat on the bed beside him as he shifts to sit up.

“I’ve always had such intense storylines, theres always something bad going on. But, this time, Anders actually happy - him and Omar are doing well for the first time in forever. I’m not really used to it,” He shakes his head, “Sorry, you don’t need to hear my acting problems.”

“Well, I guess I’m not the best person to give advice,” You start cautiously yet again, “But I would say that you should use exactly that. Anders not going to be used to it either, he’s never had that time where he’s simply been happy so he’d probably feel exactly the way that you do about having to act that story. Use that.”

He stays silent and you’re certain you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s probably useless bu-“

“No, no, that makes sense,” He interjects, “Thank you.”

“Well, I should go, I asked Itzan if he’d run lines with me,” You explain, “See you later.”

“Yeah, bye (Y/n).”

- - - - - -

The next day, you’re filming your first kiss with Samuel. It sounded silly but you’d never been so nervous to film a scene - it would be the first time where you had to show that sort of affection on camera and it felt intimidating to say the least.

You’d been nervous all morning, for something so annoyingly simple.

You’re hurrying down towards your trailer when you knock into someone on the way.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your water pours down you.

As irony would have it, it’s Arón stood in front of you.

“Looks like karma circled back round,” He smirks at the sight.

“Not now Arón,” You mutter, dashing off before he can say anything more.

It was harsh, you knew it was deep down. But you were so caught up in your own stress that you couldn’t really think of anything beyond that. You carried on towards your trailer and prayed they’d left you a spare uniform to change into if need be.

It’s ten minutes later when there’s a knock at your door and Arón is stood on the other side.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I should’ve been looking where I was going,” He comments, you’re too pressured to notice how he seemed slightly nervous.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” You rush to say as you search for the right script amongst your stuff.

“Are you okay?” He frowns, “You seem a little-“

“Stressed?” You finish for him as you turn around, his appearance relaxing you a little, “I’m sorry, I’ve just got my first kiss scene with Itzan today and I’m really nervous about it.”

He laughs gently, “Why? Do you like him or something?”

“What?” You scoff, “Of course I don’t. I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Okay...” Arón starts, “Well, wouldnt your character be nervous too? Maybe you should take your own advice and use that.”

You smirk at his attempts at helping, “Well, this is a real role reversal!”

He steps inside from where he’d been waiting in the doorway and smirks, “Or... you could just practise.”

“Practise?” You cock a brow, “What? Ask Itzan to kiss me before the cameras roll?”

Without any further introduction, Arón takes a stride forward until he’s close enough for you to understand his real intention. He leans in only ninety percent of the way, waiting for your approval to seal the last ten percent. When you do, his eyes flutter shut and his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You mumble against his lips as he pulls away.

“We all need ways of coping with stress,” He smirks a little, “Is that so bad?”

You laugh and try to fight against the bold blush on your cheeks.

“And you have nothing to worry about. You’re a much better kisser than Omar.”

“Well, I was coming to get (Y/n) to set but looks like I’ve seen and heard much more than I needed to,” Omar raises his brows from where he stood at your door, “I’ll tell them you’ll be a little late. Close your fucking door next time!” He laughs and walks off.

“Any less stressed?” Arón cocks a brow at you.

“Maybe let’s try that again.”

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christineeej94 · 5 years ago

Text

Neighbors ❤

Arón Piper x Reader

a/n: I appreciate all the likes i got for my first attempt and now I want to write another one, a little bit longer and more interesting. I hope you guys gonna like it and I wait for your requests. Kisses 🌻

Content: The reader is moving to Spain, she meets Aron by chance because they live in the same block. They are starting to see each other very often and after a few weeks they become a couple.

Warnings: bad writing and some inappropriate language.

Word count: 1732

♠♠♠♠♠

When I decided that I want to move to Spain I don't know what was on my mind. It was a radical decision and now I'm in new apartment who has a beautiful view of Madrid's streets. I like to seat here, drink a cup of coffee, read a book or just admire the breathtaking view.

I admit that this city is so mesmerizing and full of life, but I'm alone, I live my family in Italy and come here to find something. I leaved everything, my home, my family and my job at the gallery to find something now, an adventure. I'm looking for inspiration for my paintings and I think here I can find it. Today I want to spend my time on streets with my camera and take pictures of people, animals or whatever I consider that deserve to be painted. I dressed with a colorful dress and some sandals. I pinned my hair in a pony tail and I take anything I need for this walk. I locked my apartment and I start going down the stairs. When I went outside the bright sun blinded me for a few seconds so I put some sunglasses and start walking to nowhere. Today is a great day to get some inspiration and the locals are already on streets and at the local markets. I photographed some kids eating ice cream, an old couple reading a newspaper on a bench and a lady at the flower shop. Walking down to the historical center I seen three guys at a table and they were drinking a coffee. I wanted to photograph this state but the sunlight blocked my view. They look so handsome and very masculine. I took courage and come closer to them table.

A blonde guy, a boy with black hair and another one with brown curly hair are looking curiously at me when I got in front of them.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N) and I'm a professional photographer and also a painter. May I take some photos of you?" “I promise it will be quick” They are looking at me like I am a crazy lady. Maybe I’m but that’s another story.

They smiled at me and starting to talk to each other in Spanish. I didn't understand a word and now I realize that maybe they didn't understand me in the first place.

“First, I’m Miguel” the blonde one present himself. “He is Itzan and he is Arón” Miguel pointed first the black hair guy who smiled at me, then the curly boy who looks so good.

"Nice to meet you." I smiled. "Can I start?"

They approve and I ask them if they can be natural like I was not there. The boys are really born to be models because the final result was amazing. After I finished i give them my contact data if they want the photos. Miguel and Itzan were very excited and I talked with they a little. They explained me that they are actors and it is very regular for them to be photographed. That beautiful guy, Arón, didn't talk at all and he was already gone after a we finished. I was happy that I met these nice guys and I ensured them that if they need something, they can call me.

When I have arrived home, it was already dark outside. I made a bowl of instant noodles and I stayed on my balcony, watching the light and enjoying my diner. I googled for the three boys I met today and I’m surprised and shock because they are famous. All of them are acting in this series called “ ÉLITE”. I start watching the first episode when load voices and extremely load music are coming from my neighbor above me. It’s half past the midnight so it’s late for a party, especially in the middle of the week. I put a hoodie on my summary pajamas and I walked up the stairs to my neighbor’s door. I hit hard the black door and after a few minutes a tall boy with curly black hair was sitting in front of me with a beer in his hand, smirking at me.

“Can I help you, princesa?” I don’t say anything because I didn’t understand what he’s saying.

“You are shy? Come in, the party is already started” He speaks in English this time and he drags me inside. “I’m Jorge by the way”

“I’m your neighbor, (Y/N)” I finally speak and we enter in a room full of people who are dancing and drinking. “Sweetheart, I don’t live here, I’m just a guest” he explains and I want to leave, I’m not welcome here and I don’t know who own this apartment.

“Hey, Jorge, who is she” a familiar voice is heard from behind I turn around. Miguel is sitting in front of me with people I don’t know, but I recognize some faces from the “ÉLITE” first episode. Miguel looks surprised to see me there. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” He is happy to see me and I’m also happy to see him. He hugged me and present me to the group. “But seriously, what are you doing here?” “I live in the apartment below.” “I didn’t know you are living here, Miguel, I apologize for the inconvenience” He looks confused for a second. “I’m not living here, Arón is” he explained. “Stay, we are gonna have so much fun.” I looked down to myself and I've seen a very messy outfit which is not appropriate for this kind of party.

“Hey, is that the girl from the coffee shop?” “¡Ai, que hermosa!” Arón screams from the terrace and he’s walking like a zombie to us.

“I apologize for him, he was drinking too much, you know, he got his heart broke.” Miguel support Aron and the curly head boy is sending me kisses. “Maybe I should go home, is pretty late.” “Nice too meet you guys.” I greeted the group of people and I go home.

All night I couldn't sleep, I only see Arón face in my mind and I can´t stop thinking of him. His beautiful eyes and his smile are so stunning. I don't know him at all but he seems a nice person and I would like to know him. But he is a star and I'm just an ordinary girl. I started my day terribly, I'm tired and I don't feel like getting out of bed too soon. Yesterday I received an email about a job at a fashion magazine and today I’ve to be there at 12 p.m. At half past 11 I was sitting in front of elevator. When I entered Arón was inside looking in his pone. First he didn’t notice me so I decide to greet him.

“Hey.” my voice sound like a strangled cat. “Oh, hey there, (Y/N) right?” I approve and I’m looking in other direction. He intimidates me with his presence. “I’m sorry for last night, I wasn’t myself.” “It’s alright, I’m used with parties and load people” I said and we get out of elevator. “Where are you going now?” “I'm going to an interview for a job at Cosmopolitan Spain and I am pretty late.”

“Let me drop you, it’s on my way.” I accepted because I was late. In the car he asks me so much questions and we figured out that we have many things in common. “Come with me at a barbeque this weekend, it will be fun and I gonna present you to my friends” He said when he dropped me at the Cosmopolitan offices. “Sure, why not.” I blushed when he winked and smirked at me. "See ya, hermosa." "And good luck."

After two hours I was already home. I slept all day and I woke up when my phone started ringing.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” “I’m calling you from Cosmopolitan offices, congratulations, you got the job, you can start on Monday.”

I was excited when I heard the news. I can’t believe I got the job. I spend the rest of the night dancing and watching my new favorite show.

After 3 weeks

I open the door to let my best friend to come in. Arón puts the chips and the beers on the coffee table and sits comfortable on the couch. It's Friday so it's the "Euphoria night". We started together this series and he loves it. I don't like it that much but I adore to spend time with him. Arón it was a good friend for me from the beginning. He is teaching me Spanish and I made a lot of friends here thanks to him. We start know each other very well, but he doesn't know that I like him so bad. We flirt a lot but it’s more like a joke.

“I don’t like that guy, Nate” I commented and he laughed. “It’s a bad guy, (Y/N), you don’t like bad guys?” He smirks at me and I rolled my eyes. “I like you” He takes it like a joke and start laughing. “Pero soy un mal cabrón” he looks at me inappropriately and he smiles suggestively. I love when he is talking in Spanish. “You are such a playboy.” “Of course, that’s my middle name” He shows me his middle finger and I hit him softly in his left arm.

After a few hours we are sitting on my balcony admiring the sunset. I start to love Spain so much and I love the boy next to me who is smoking the fourth cigarette in the past 30 minutes. He observes that I stare at him and he smiles. “I know I’m beautiful, stop looking at me like that.” “Sorry.”

“But I don’t outdo you” he takes me in his arms and start singing his lyrics from ‘Vicio’. “What are you doing?” I laugh and he giggles. “I’m singing for my future girlfriend” He answers and I blush. My heart stops beating for a couple of seconds. “What?” I mumbling. He stopped and raised my face. “You are the most beautiful person I ever seen, you are kind and you are so talented” “And I like you like a crazy man” I can’t stop smiling after his declaration. “Do you want to be my crazy woman?” “Of course, mi amor” I answer and we kiss softly.

#aron piper #aron piper imagine #elite imagine #elite #acting #photos #madrid #spain

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 5 years ago

Text

She's A What?

Gif credit @angels-reyes

My first Miguel imagine. Hope you all enjoy

Requested from wattpad.

(Mayans/Sons of Anarchy crossover. Jax is still alive)

Happy Reading Dollies

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

You were currently hanging out with the sons, Jax called you up asking if you wanted to hang with the guys, play a little pool or just talk. Of course you were up for it. You loved hanging out with them.

"I'm going to beat your ass". You swore as you lines your stick up, it smashed with the white ball and knocked your two last balls into the corner pocket.

"Boo ya bitch". You laughed as Jax sulked. He was a sore loser and you loved it.

"You cheated, your finger was over the line".

"Finger? Line? We aren't playing basketball but I could probably beat your ass in that too". Jax stuck out his tongue.

It was all fun and games until Juice came running in, pulling Jax aside. You were confused but it had to be important.

"Shit. Okay call the others and get them here now".

"Sorry Darlin, got to cut our game short".

"Is everything okay"? You asked putting the stick on the table.

"Um not really".

"Anything I can help with"?

"You know how to track people down"?

"No I cant do that. Why"?

"Alvarez, he's one of our partners and he's gone missing".

"Oh shit. Listen I got to go". You hugged Jax and ran out the club house door. Leaving Jax with a very confused mind.

Getting in your car and dashing off your mind raced. Who would want to kidnap him? The only person you knew that could answer it was Miguel. Your boyfriend. That's right you were dating a cartel guy, friends with the Sons and is Marcus Alvarez daughter but no one knew any of this. You kept Miguel a secret. Your father didnt want people to know that you were his for your safety and the Sons everyone knew them good or bad.

Arriving at Miguels you raced inside you found him on the phone with Nestor. He looked worried.

"Okay, you let me know what's going on". He says back and hangs up.

"Hey sweetie, I'm busy right now".

"Marcus Alvarez is missing".

"I knew that but how did you"? He eyed you.

"You have to find him, please".

"I have my best men out searching. They should give me a update before to long".

"Miguel you dont understand. You have to find him. He's all I have left". Tears started running down your face as you told him. Yeah the secret was out and he's probably angry at you for not telling him but all you wanted was your father back.

"Your father? Your lover? What is he to you Y/N"?

"My father".

"But your name"?

"He gave me my grandmother's maiden name as my last name to protect me from his life".

"How did you know that he was missing"? Miguel asked sternly.

"I heard it from Jackson Teller. I was there and I heard him".

"You were with that biker scum"?

"He's not scum. He's a dear friend that I've known longer than you. I grew up with him. My father just didn't know about our friendship".

"You're just full of lies".

"It doesnt matter. I need your help finding him".

Miguel sighed. Nodding his head. "Okay, I'm going to find him. But once he's found, you're telling me everything".

"I will. Thank you".

While Miguel called around and kept in contact with Nestor. You paced his floor, you were so worried that your father won't make it out alive. He was all you have left, your mom left because she couldn't handle the life anymore.

"Y/N"? Miguel pulled you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, did you find him"?

"We have a lead but we have to get on it now before the Sons get to him". He said grabbing his jacket.

"I don't care who finds him just that he's safe".

"Stay here and I'll bring him to you".

"No, I'm going with you". You walked to to the door, he gave you a stern look.

"I'm trying to protect you, stay here".

"Whatever you say". You rolled your eyes. You weren't listening to him. You watched as he disappeared down the driveway and sprinted to your car. You drove as fast as you could behind him with out getting seen.

Miguel went down a dirt road that had an abandon old factory mill where they produced corn. Driving up slowly you saw through the trees that Miguel and Nestor were there so were the Sons. Jax and Miguel looked as if they were having words. You scoffed and parked your car, creeping through the woods.

"We found him first". You heard one of the Sons say like it was a competition. They were playing with your father's life.

You walked up to them and stood there with your arms crossed and you hip popped out.

"I thought I told you to stay out of this"? You heard Miguel say.

"What the fuck are you talking about"? Jax wondered.

"It doesnt matter if I'm here or not. Where is my father"?

"Father"? Jax blinked making sure he heard you right.

"Do I have to go in there and get him? You two seem like your occupied arguing like little children".

"Happy and Tig went inside".

"A few of my guys went in too". Nestor spoke up from the back.

"Great". You said sarcastically.

"Jax"! You heard Happys deep voice boom through the building. For a shy guy he was loud when he needs to be.

"Oh god, daddy". You pushed everyone out of the way getting to him. He was bruised, bloody and was cut up.

"Are you okay"? You asked helping him to the back of Miguels SUV.

"I'm fine, just a scratch". He winched as he moved to sit down

"What are you doing here"?

"You were missing, where did you think I would be"?

"Safe, away from here".

"I told her to stay put and I would bring you to her". Miguel piped in. Making Marcus and Jax look at him. Then Marcus looked at Jax.

"Thanks fellas".

"No problem, can't have our partner be killed". Jax chuckled.

"Am I the only one that wants to know how Y/N knows Miguel"? Tig asked making everyone nod their head.

"Um, we're dating". Their jaws dropped.

"I'm also good friends with the Sons".

"Marcus Alvarez is my father". "I'm a Alvarez".

"Holy shit". Jax said shocked.

"There I told you now let's get you to a hospital". You helped your dad off the back and walked him through the woods to your car. Miguel and Jax looked like they were about to have a show down right there.

You didn't need this right now and left.

"You picked a good one, I guess". You father said on the way.

"At least he's not a white boy biker". You giggled as he let out a hurtful laugh holding his ribs.

After your father was released from the hospital he sat down with Miguel and talked about what he wanted in life with you. He said the whole thing, marriage, kids. Your father was pleased, he could take care of you, protect you and make sure you stayed out of trouble. Now Jax on the other hand went all big bro on him but he was okay just okay with him until he could prove himself. Which he did when it came to finding the guys that kidnapped the Marcus Alvarez.

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo fanfic #mayans mc imagine #mayans imagine #sons of anarchy #marcus alvarez #mayans/soa crossover imagine #happys crazy queen22 #jax teller

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paytonfischer · 5 years ago

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BLACK OUT EVENT LOCATION: THE MEN’S RESTROOM

Featured: @ckrongold, Payton, @mrjames-saint & @themiguelfuentes

Mentioned: @jennifcrkrongold , @akrongold , Marissa Diaz & @joshuakrongold

PAYTON: With the limited light source, Payton was unsure if the others had noticed them yet. But at the suggestion of a gun, he nodded his hand, holding it out towards Christopher. "Give it here." And as he spoke, he saw the approach of another, their features caught in the shadows. "Get the fuck back." Side stepping in front of Christopher, he gritted his teeth ready for just about everything. "Maybe it's a good time to get off the phone now, bro." Glancing over his shoulder towards him, he lifted a brow. "I'm sure your Aunt would understand."

CHRISTOPHER: Pausing for a beat, he thought about it. Out of anyone, Payton was best and most equipped to be holding the firearm, even if it meant leaving his own self defenseless. Christopher eventually pulled out the gun he had toted all night long, placing it in Payton's hand. At that point, he cared for discretion no longer; it was best if the Devils knew that they weren't blind and unprepared. Noting the sudden charged energy, Chris quickly clicked the call off, standing behind Payton, looking over his shoulder with tense features. "Don't you lot even try." he snarled, directing his focus onto the two other men in the unfortunate room with them.

JAMES: James stood next to Miguel, while he was concerned about the bleeding, he was much more worried about the gun in Paytons hands. Funny how earlier the three had be joking at the bar and now they were here. His gaze flicked to Miguel, knowing his was armed before his eyes landed on Christopher. He heard words spoken on the phone, 'he can have her'. In an instant he was pushing forward. "Tough words from the man hiding behind someone else." He said, his tone mocking him. "You must be scared then, pussy."

MIGUEL: He could feel the warm liquid trickling down his neck, threatening to soak his shirt. His weight was completely held up by the metal stall, fully aware he wouldn't be able to pull a trigger in that moment. Letting his gaze fall on James, he simply shook his head. Miguel couldn't prevent his head snapping in the direction of the mans words, the pain from his wound threatening to intensify. Watching the man move forward, Miguel made the effort to stand in front of James. His hand found the opposite wall, his balance completely off track. "Not here. Not now."

PAYTON: Naturally, it all somehow came down to a girl as Payton sighed and cocked the gun. This room was much too small for this much testosterone, and heated levels. “I said get back." The words were repeated, taking a step forward towards James. "Whoever she is, she ain't worth a bullet hole, buddy." Never taking his gaze off the two in front of him, he kept the weapon near his side. "Plus Chris is more a lover than a fighter, so let's quit with the nicknames." Was he trying to lighten the mood in a dire situation? Of course he was, but as his finger hovered over the trigger, he realized that something wasn't right. It seemed the gun was jammed, probably from Christopher's original fall, which meant they were down a weapon. However the other two didn't need to know that.

CHRISTOPHER: His ears rang at James' cocky tone. "Fuck you, Saint." The audacity of the other man was astounding, and did nothing but make Christopher want to punch him in the face. "After you took my sister as your date, you're lusting after Marissa?" Add this revelation to his already bad night considering Marissa' s betrayal, and the fact that the other Devil guy with Marissa moments before was there as well, the Krongold male was beyond ready to let his frustrations out. Every fibre of his being was itching to have a go. He was only being held at bay by Payton's physical blocking, and the fact that the room could give and kill them all. Hence, the curled up fist by his side, as he shot icy glares at the other two. "You Devils are going to regret this."

JAMES: James' lip curled into a snarl as he heard how the other used his name, but it was his use of Marissa's name that pushed him. "You don't get to say her fucking name, ever again." He shoved his phone into Miguel's hands, if he couldn't pull a trigger then he could hold the fucking flashlight. Chris' words sounded like the words of a child, someone who'd never had to fight his own battles before and James was ready to show him what regret really was. It took a few short steps to shove Payton and his jammed gun aside, hearing him crash into something without bothering to see where he fell. One hand grabbed the collar of Chris' shirt, his other pulled back before his fist connected with the side of the others face, his full strength behind it.

MIGUEL: Fumbling to take ahold of the phone, there was no stopping James' fury. Fully aware of what his fist were capable of, Miguel stood to the side. "What are you, a fucking child?" His form managed to adjust against the now crumbling tile, pointing the flashlight in the direction of the pair. As far as he knew, they weren't involved in making a building collapse. He knew the moment Chris mentioned Marissa, it was over. It was a line that Miguel knew not to cross with the man, even as a simple joke. He knew what James was capable of, especially when his buttons are pushed. Letting his tongue click against the roof of his mouth, he watched as James' grabbed ahold of Chris. "Bad fucking choice, little Prince."

PAYTON: This was some shit as he stumbled back, falling to his ass as he glared towards the others. James had been cocky, acting even while Payton had a gun in his hand, which meant he didn’t care. Which was a whole lot more dangerous than someone with something to lose in his book. “Shit,” Pressing his palms into the dirty ground, he heaved himself up, the gun still in his grasp. "--get off him.” If he couldn’t shoot it, he might as well as use it as a weapon. Stumbling forward, he used the wall as leverage. "Could we stop with the fuckin' nicknames?" God, his head hurt. Everything hurt but his gaze was set on Christopher, determined to help his friend in any possible.

CHRISTOPHER: Everything went to hell real fast. Yanked by James, Chris felt the force hit him, impairing him; his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. With one hand grasping and clawing at James' curled fist by the fabric of his dress shirt, he immediately retaliated with a defensive punch to the other's face. He hated violence, but this was the only language their enemies spoke in. "Fuck you!" he bellowed, blood and spit flying as he delivered another blow, unwilling to be bested by this Devil.

PAYTON: Making his way towards the two males, he lifted the gun, swinging it towards the back of James head. Using the blunt end to knock the balance off of the Devil, his fist now twisting into Jame's shirt.

JAMES: The punches from Chris felt like nothing, James spent his time with real fighters not spoiled kids who thought they could step in like a big man. He could hear his blood roaring in his ear and while he saw Chris' lips moved there was no sound as he pulled his fist back, landing another blow, then another, and another. His fist was raised for another when he felt something hit his head, releasing his grip on Chris' shirt with a growl. He turned on the spot, his rage blinded him as he swung, his fist connecting with Paytons nose.

MIGUEL: The male watched as James' unleashed the anger, the anger he felt was evident from the blood forming on Christopher's face. Holding the phone up, he let the light flash overhead as James continued to lay blows. A slow nod came from Miguel as Chris attempted to withdraw from the man, unaware of the background James has. His gaze flickered as Payton moved towards James, the gun reaching to send one blow to the back of his head. Letting his free hand reach behind his back, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol. A shaky hand raised the gun, the nose of the pistol pointed at Payton; but threatened to shift towards a tangled James and Chris. "Do we want to play this game?"

PAYTON: There was a crunch and immediate blood flow from his nose, followed by a few curse words. “Come on, fuck.” This time as he lunged forward, he brought the shard of glass with him. If the other guy wanted to shoot him, he was gonna do it, it wouldn't stop Payton from doing his job. But as he was ready to deliver it into his side, but before he could have the chance, the door busted open, revealing a swarm of cops and paramedics. However, Payton didn’t care, not when his hands were still on Christopher and so he swung his arm, pushing the shard into the other’s shoulder before shoving his full weight into him and knocking him down.

CHRISTOPHER: Chris could taste the blood on his lips, certain that his face was messed up, no thanks to James' doing. But the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn't let him back down just yet. It was, however, the pointed pistol at them that caused him to pause the fury that fueled him, giving him a split-second to decide. If he was gonna die in a men's restroom in the hands of a Devil, then Lord help him, he was gonna go down fighting. Just when Chris has accepted his fate, the door burst open, disrupting the flames of tension within the room. That is, as Payton drove the glass of shard right into James. On his feet with whatever energy he could muster, Chris forcibly pulled Payton back, untangling him from the other man. But the damage was done.

JAMES: The sight of Chris' blood made James smirk, he'd told Jen if it came down to a fight with her brother he could take him, and he was right. The sound of the door bursting made him turn, automatically lifting his hands away from the fight. Then the shard of glass stabbed into his shoulder. He let out a pained yell, falling to his knees as his hand gripped his arm just under where the glass now penetrated his shoulder. His gaze landed on Payton and Chris, his eyes dark. "This is far from over you Royal pieces of shit." He said, spitting at their feet.

MIGUEL: Miguel couldn't help but chuckle as James' fist connected with Payton's nose, causing a rush of blood to trail down his face. Even two versus one, James was more than capable of taking them on. The gun wavered between the two, watching as the fight continued to unfold. Suddenly, the door began to break open; a rush of officers pointing flashlights. Letting the phone drop, Miguel shifted the gun backwards; tucking it back into his waistband. His legs threatened to give out as Payton rushed forward; a shard of glass piercing into James' shoulder. Letting his attention turn to the pair of Royals, he couldn't help but spit in their direction. "We'll see you around, boys."

PAYTON: Glancing towards Christopher, he allowed himself to be pulled back as the officers rushed in. "Shit." He muttered out of breath, wiping the crimson stains on his palms against his pants. "Are you alright?" That was all that mattered as he panted, staring towards the other male, completely ignoring Miguel's comment.

CHRISTOPHER: Collapsing backwards, he let the exhaustion give way. Never mind his bloody, beat up face; Christopher surrendered from the ordeal, allowing the officers and the paramedics to take control of the scene. "I'm fine." he panted, continuously keeping his heated gaze locked onto the two Devils. Even as the two left, spitting at them like the barbarians they were, there remained the rage and wanting to throttle them by their necks. Once gone, only then did he realise the damage the two of them suffered. Looking at the state he and Payton were now in, Chris was left with a conclusion: "We're in trouble now, Payton."

--fin.

#interactions . { and he spoke as if every word was a prayer }#rivalsofnewyork: blackourevent

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seeaddywrite · 5 years ago

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6. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.” animal kingdom with deran x adrian plz!

this is probably not what you wanted, & far longer than anyone expected, but! here it is! haha. Thanks for the prompt! :) aaand this is my first fic with these guys after binging the entire series last week, so if i’m way off-base, let me know!

Adrian Dolan was born with an honest face and a charming smile, and thanks to his family’s association with Janine ‘Smurf’ Cody, he learned how to put them to use at a young age. The babysitters his mom hired before she took off always raved about how cute and well-behaved he was, never noticing the stash of cookies and toys he’d collected and stored beneath his bed. He remembers beaming toothily at the older lady who owned the corner market as he walked out of her store with pockets full of stolen candy, and the way she only chuckled and told the customer she was checking out what a great kid he was.

Adrian also remembers, vaguely, grinning up at a uniformed officer from the heat-baked sidewalk outside his family’s shitty apartment in Oceanside while his father jumped out the back window and ran for his freedom – remembers how the officer had blinked and held out a hand for Adrian’s, and called after him when the ten-year-old boy ran instead of accepting the offer. He’d gone straight to Smurf’s, of course. It’d been drilled into his head at an age far younger than ten that when Dad needed to lay low, he went to the Cody house and trusted the people there to protect him.

As a teenager, Adrian used his honest face to stand lookout for Deran and Craig more times than he could remember. Those memories are a blur of questions and frowning officers, of sun in his eyes and adrenaline flooding his system until it felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. He remembers Deran dragging him into an alley and kissing him senseless after they got away with stealing a sports car on fucking camera, and the way Deran whispered over and over again how incredible Adrian was into his skin while they had sex for the first time just ten feet from the police station where they were questioned.

He got older, and he got more independent. Adrian turned surfing into a career for himself, used the natural talent his father had encouraged and made himself something on the circuit. The Codys remained part of his life, Deran more than anyone – and Adrian knows that he was a damned idiot, letting them impact his entire life in such a way. Renting from Smurf, taking off with Deran, letting himself get beaten and terrorized and treated like shit in the name of staying with the one man he’d ever loved. But even through all of that, Adrian kept coming back, kept leaning on Deran and his reputation when he had to in order to keep himself safe from the thugs in Oceanside who knew exactly where Adrian came from.

After all that, it’s no wonder keeping secrets from Deran is so fucking hard, now that they’re in a good place and living the life Adrian’s always wanted together. They share space and breath and secrets, and keeping the fact that he’s working with the DEA from the man he loves is a lot like trying to digest acid. From the outside, no one can tell – but inwardly, Adrian’s being eaten alive. He can lie with the best of them, and switches through masks and cons as needed, but it’s never been that way with Deran.

Adrian’s always prided himself on being the only person in the other man’s life that gives everything to him straight, no bullshit, and trusts that he’ll be okay anyway. This drastic change in their dynamic makes everything seem off-balance and wrong, and Adrian knows that Deran feels it, too. He’s asked, point blank, what’s going on with Adrian, and the fact that even Craig is asking questions tells him that his house of cards is going to come tumbling down in a spectacular way at any moment.

So, in a way, it’s not surprising when Deran awakens with a jolt in the middle of the night to find a stranger in a ski mask pointing a gun at him. He swallows, the sound audible in the otherwise silent milieu of the bedroom he shares with Deran, and takes a precious second of the mere moments he’s got left to thank whatever God might be listening that the other man is gone tonight, working a job with his brothers in Santa Monica.

“Get dressed,” the man tells him, his voice a low, menacing rumble that starts Adrian’s heart pounding at doubletime. He feels light-headed with panic, can barely suck enough air through his mouth to inflate his lungs as the barrel of the gun is waved nearer his head, but Adrian follows the order, moving mechanically as he yanks a pair of too-long jeans over his legs. They’re Deran’s, he realizes belatedly, but it’s too late to change now – and there’s something poetic about the idea of dying in his lover’s clothes. Like they’re connected, somehow, even when that’s the last thing Adrian should want. Deran can’t be connected to anyone’s murder, not even Adrian’s, not without serious consequences.

“Down the stairs, out the door, and into the car,” Adrian’s abductor orders, his thin lips moving in the slit of the ski mask. Adrian nods once, silent, and begins to move – only to freeze when something cold and solid meets one of his kidneys. “You pissed off the wrong guys, kid. All we asked you to do was carry a fucking bag. How hard is that?”

Adrian doesn’t answer. What would he say? That it’d been harder than he expected? That it wasn’t his fault? None of that is true, and Adrian doesn’t want to make himself a liar this close to the end, just in case all those sermons his mom had dragged him to as a kid weren’t bullshit. Besides, he’d known when he accepted the smuggling gig that it could backfire on him – smuggling drugs was stupid, especially with no real plan or forethought. But the money, the need to feel on equal footing with Deran, was a siren’s call, and he’d succumbed. But Adrian had grown up as an honorary Cody, and so he knows better than anyone that life’s short as the weakest link… and even shorter as a rat.

He doesn’t know why they’re bothering to take him somewhere else to kill him. Maybe they know who Deran is and don’t want to risk being connected to a murder in his house, or maybe they want to torture him first, in retaliation for the information he’s given the Feds. It doesn’t matter; Adrian’s not brave enough to tell them ‘no,’ to make them shoot him here, and even if he was, he wouldn’t. Not when that would mean Deran coming home to his corpse. Adrian might be naive in thinking it would affect him to find that – if he had to guess, Adrian would hazard that Deran’s seen dead bodies before. But they’re together, have been for such a long time … surely it would matter? He’s not stupid enough to think Deran loves him – he’s pretty sure Deran doesn’t know how to love, not really. Not with his family. But he has to mean something to the man, or he wouldn’t be sharing his bed and home with him.

“Miguel! Sabes quien es el dueño de esta casa?”

Adrian frowns, the presence of a second person surprising him. The other man is somewhere beyond the bedroom – the kitchen, maybe? – and sounds alarmed, but that’s all he can tell with his rudimentary Spanish skills. “Callate! Just go start the car!” Miguel calls back, the volume and proximity making Adrian’s ears ring. He’s shoved forward, out into the kitchen, where the second masked man is staring down at the bills strewn over the counter, waiting on J to help Deran with his budgeting. The bills. With Deran Cody’s name on them.

Hope sparks in Adrian’s chest, desperate and impossible to ignore. Maybe these guys didn’t know who owned this house – and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to convince them not to kill him. The Cody name is infamous in Oceanside, after all, and Adrian knows Deran would be obligated to retaliate against a home invasion even if he didn’t give a shit about Adrian, which isn’t the case.

“What’s the matter?” Adrian asks, hoping the tremulous quality of his voice will be mistaken for breathlessness after being forced to move so quickly. “Didn’t realize you were fucking with one of the Cody’s people?” Smurf didn’t have a lot of morals – or any, actually – but she did take care of the people in her properties, and always had. It’s self-serving, ultimately, since it’s how she maintains loyalty and her position on top of the criminal underbelly of the city, but it’s still true. And all of the people who run in her circles know it. “Didn’t notice you were dragging me out of Deran’s bed?”

The man hauls back and strikes him in the side with the butt of the gun, and pain erupts in the wake of the hit, but Adrian doesn’t cry out. He’s been hit before, plenty of times, and his captor isn’t nearly as strong as some of the guys who have taken issue with the way he lives his life. Adrian stares, trying to imagine what Deran would do or say in this situation – but comes up empty. Deran would never be stupid enough to get into this situation in the first place, and there’s no good in pretending otherwise. Adrian isn’t Deran. He’s not nearly as good at brute force and intimidation, and if he tries to be, it might get him killed that much faster.

“I wonder what he’ll do to you,” Adrian muses, once he’s gotten his breath back. “He and Craig are pretty tight, and I know he likes to use his bare fists, but Deran’s pretty smooth with a baseball bat. And God, you should see him with a gun in his hands. It shouldn’t be hot, I know, but –”

This time, his captor uses his fist, and he might be a little stronger than Adrian thought. His eye swells almost immediately, and the way his chest throbs with every breath he takes tells him that he’s probably got a busted rib now, too. As Adrian recovers, slumped against the kitchen wall with blood trickling from his busted nose and two guns trained on him, the men toss rapid Spanish back and forth, the anxiety in their body language escalating quickly before they both relax. They’ve got a plan, then – Adrian lets his eyes drift closed and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in for a quick death.

********

The room they tie him up in is small – Adrian would guess it’s a closet, except for the narrow window to his left and up near the ceiling. His hands are bound behind the chair with twine that digs into the skin of his wrists, and if he moves too much, blood starts to pool, warm and sticky, in his palms. His ankles are likewise bound, one to each leg of the wooden chair he sits in, and there’s no way out of that, not for him.

He’s there for what must be hours; it’s hard to track time in the tiny room, and he’s pretty sure he fades in and out of consciousness a few times, because the light through the window seems different every time he remembers to look for it. He wonders why he’s still alive, from time to time – they’ve kidnapped him, there’s no point in keeping him alive. Deran and his family will come for them either way, and at least they’d only have to hide from the Codys if they fulfilled their obligation to the gang who’d sent them in the first place.

At some point, Miguel charges into the small room, mask still in place, and shoves a cell phone to his face. Adrian blinks, trying to figure out what’s going on, but Deran’s voice is tinny and familiar in his ear, and that’s all he needs to know.

“Adrian? Adrian! Are you there?”

He clears his throat, trying to ignore the embarrassing lump building there at just the sound of Deran’s familiar fury. “Hey,” he says, and finds his voice hoarse. “I’m – yeah, I’m here.” He doesn’t know what to say, or why they’re allowing him to talk to Deran, but he’s not stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I messed up, Deran,” he manages finally, his breath turning ragged. “Fuck, I messed up so bad, and -”

“Where are you?” Deran cuts him off, the words harsh and implacable. He’s in work mode, now; Adrian can tell it by his tone even without seeing the cold, thoughtful expression on his face. “Tell me where you are, and we’ll come get you.” The royal ‘we’ where the Codys are concerned isn’t surprising, but the rush of relief that Adrian feels to know they’re all involved is. He’s never known the Cody’s to fail in their end goal when they’re all working together, and if they’re all coming to get him – well, he might live through the night after all.

“I don’t know,” Adrian says, the words a croak in his sore throat. Fuck, how long has it been since he’s had something to drink? “I don’t know, Deran, I -”

“Adrian, listen to me.” Again, Deran interrupts, stopping him from an embarrassing emotional display. Miguel is listening, watching him with beady black eyes through his ski mask, leaning in close enough to hold the phone that Adrian can smell the beer on his breath, and Adrian doesn’t want to break down in front of him. “I’m coming to get you. Everything’s gonna be fine – but you gotta keep your head, all right? This is just one giant, scary fucking wave trying to drown you, but you always come out on top, right? Breathe. Trust me – I got this, okay? I got you. Always. So tell me you’re with me, and get the jackass back on the phone. I’ll get a location from him.”

I got you.

The words are the closest Deran’s gotten to ‘I love you,’ at least in the sense that Adrian understands love. Deran’s begged him to stay with him, tried to manipulate him with tears and begging, but this is something different – this is an exchange of trust. This is Deran, coming for Adrian when he’s fucked up and put them all in danger. This is Deran being reassuring and supportive, and Adrian is so overcome that he barely manages a coherent response.

“I trust you,” he says, because he’s not saying anything else with Miguel’s rancid breath in his face. He’ll save those words for later, when he can be sure, when he can look in Deran’s eyes and see the truth there, when he’s come clean and knows that Deran can accept the shit he’s done.

Because his words are true. Adrian trusts Deran, and because he does, he knows he has time to wait for the perfect moment.

*******

Adrian makes an effort to stay aware after Miguel disappears with the phone, already arranging a dollar amount and a meeting time for the exchange to happen. He sounds smug, like he really thinks this has all worked out in his favor - and hell, maybe it has. Adrian has no idea what’s going to happen next, if this will be the end of his association with the smugglers or not, but he can’t think about the future just yet. He’s stuck on the lack of circulation in his hands, on the ache in his side – and on the fact that Deran is going to see it all when he shows up, and he’s damned sure to have questions. There’s no way Adrian will be able to hide the fact that he’s been talking to the Feds, now, and –

All panicked thoughts flee as soon as the fighting starts outside. Adrian would’ve had to have been deaf to miss the thuds and clatters, the smack of fist on skin. He recognizes Craig’s laugh and Pope’s irritated reminder to watch his fucking back– god, that guy enjoyed brawling way more than could possibly be healthy. J is as quiet as always, but Adrian catches him telling someone to, “Go get him, dumbass!” in a particularly exasperated voice.

And then Deran is there, illuminated in the suddenly-opened doorway. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt, the kind that bougie idiots wear under suit jackets, and it’s torn in a couple of places and spattered in brown-red stains that Adrian hopes very much belongs to someone else, but his black slacks and shoes are unmarked, which either means he wasn’t involved in much of the fight, or that it was a fairly easy one.

“Deran,” Adrian breathes, raising his battered face to get a better look at the other man, who seems to be frozen in the doorway. “Is it – is everyone –”

Finally, like the sound of Adrian’s voice had broken whatever spell was keeping him frozen, Deran surges forward and drops to a crouch at his side. Adrian moves his head to look at him, taking in the way his hair has fallen out of the attempted ponytail and the sweat dripping from his brow even as Deran slices through the twine binding his wrists with a knife he’d pulled from the back of his waistband. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and Adrian wonders what his wrists look like to evoke a reaction. Judging by the fact that he can’t feel his fingers, he decides he doesn’t want to know. His ankles are freed next, but Adrian doesn’t notice – the silence from Deran is starting to freak him out, and he’s already pretty fucking shaky. Would it be too much to ask for a little reassurance? Or a kiss – or even just a fucking touch?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What hurts?” Deran’s standing over him, and it takes a moment to register that there’s a tear making its way down Adrian’s cheek. Fucking damn it. “Adrian, talk to me, man, what’s -”

Adrian shakes his head, because he’s not admitting that he’s crying because Deran’s acting coldly toward him – but he’s not willing to lie, either, not when lies are what got him into this mess in the first place.

There’s a quiet moment, broken only by the sound of someone begging in the living room for someone else to stop – Pope, if the sound of Craig’s reminders not to kill anyone are any indication – and then, finally, Deran cups Adrian’s chin in one calloused palm, making him look up with care. After an instant of shock at the contact, Adrian pushes his cheek into the touch, noting with some incredulity that Deran’s hand is shaking.

“I need you to tell me that you’re ok, man,” he says, and Adrian’s brows lift at the urgency in the statement. “I need to tell me that you’re okay, and I need you to mean it, because if you’re not, I’m going back out there to kill those motherfuckers.” There’s a dark sincerity to the words, and though Adrian knows Deran is not a killer by nature, he will follow through on that promise if Adrian gives him a reason to. It’s a heady sort of power, and Adrian has no idea what to do with it. As much as he wants this problem to disappear, those guys are grunts – they’re not the real problem, and really, they’re just stupid. Killing them won’t help anything. It won’t make Adrian sleep better at night.

But it settles him a little, to know that Deran means it. That might make him a sadistic son of a bitch, but Adrian doesn’t care. Acts of violence and stacks of cash are the best ways that Deran – and his entire fucking family, really – know how to show affection, and Adrian is fluent in the Cody language.

“I’m okay,” Adrian says, and he leans forward, into Deran’s chest to press a clumsy kiss against the side of his neck. Blood smears over his white shirt, but Deran just wraps an arm around him and holds Adrian there, gently enough that his ribs don’t protest, and tightly enough that his need for skin-to-skin is almost satisfied. The itch won’t go away until he’s had the chance to get rid of the stupid shirt Deran’s wearing, but it’s enough for now, when the rest of the Cody brothers are in the other room. “Don’t kill them. It’s not really them that’s the problem.”

Deran pushes sweat-lank hair from Adrian’s forehead with one hand. “This have to do with whatever’s had you acting so weird, lately?”

Adrian nods reluctantly. “I fucked up,” he admits, biting at his lower lip until he remembers that his face aches, and more movement is not the way to help it. “I needed money, and I hate taking yours, so I –”

“Not tonight,” Deran says with a weary sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Adrian can read the frustration in the tension of his back and the roughness of the gesture, but when he helps Adrian to his feet, his touch is careful. “Let’s just get you to Mexico. We’ve got a doc there who can fix you up, and we’ll – go from there.”

They’re two steps from the door to the closet when Deran stops abruptly and pulls Adrian in against his chest. The latter winces as his ribs protest, but he’s happy to accept the searing kiss that he’s given. His fingers are still numb, but he wraps his arms around Deran anyway, clinging to his solid strength and familiarity as the world shifts and rocks around him. He’s never been part of the criminal part of Deran’s life before. He’s heard the plans, he’s been an alibi – but this, this is different, and he knows that there’s no going back. His surfing career is over. There’s no fallback plan, no way out, but it’s hard to panic when Deran’s mouth is hot against his own, almost bruising in the intensity of the kiss.

Deran’s not walking away. Deran came for him.

And Adrian’s damn well going to show up for him in return. So he holds him as best he can, shows him that he’s alive, that his heart is still beating, until they’re both ready to leave that room and face the music.

#my fic #animal kingdom tnt #deran/adrian #i can't decide if i like this or not #??

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whattimeisitintokyo · 5 years ago

Text

Somos Familia Ch 36: The Prodigal Son (Part 1)

The Prodigal Son (Part 1)

The following year passed without much turmoil coming to the Rivera's, much to everyone's relief. Ernesto had been buried in a grand mausoleum taking up a good chunk of Santa Cecilia's cemetery, and Imelda was sure he would have approved the size and stature of it very much. It was nearly buried in flowers and cards from his adoring fans on the day of his funeral, as well as the next year when Dia de Muertos came and his death and memory were officially honored for the holiday.

Imelda had taken Miguel to the mausoleum as well as Coco and her own little family, so they could pay respect to their fallen godfather. Héctor had come as well, but he remained silent during the whole visit and was the first one to leave.

Imelda couldn't blame him. For months he had been tormented with vivid nightmares of the night Ernesto had been gruesomely killed, forcing Imelda to wake him up as he had laid in bed groaning and crying in his sleep, trapped in his dreams.

It took a while before Héctor was able to finally sleep through the night, and a little while longer before both he and she were ready to finally become intimate with one another again. In many ways it was so much like their first time all those years ago when they were teenagers, scared and embarrassed but so in love, only now they were so much older and burdened by the many curveballs life had thrown at them.

However, after shy kissing had given way to the passionate lovemaking they had both been craving for years, Héctor had laid back in the bed with his wife in his arms, both slick with sweat and panting, and grinned.

"You've… still got it."

And more joy had soon followed. Not long after Héctor had returned home Coco had discovered that she was pregnant again. Julio was over the moon and kissed his wife with such passion and Rosita squealed and hugged them both with bone-crushing intensity. Victoria pleaded with her parents that she wanted a sister, not a brother since Miguel was more than enough, and Coco was smacked with a melancholy sense of nostalgia. She had demanded the same thing when she was younger, and she did get a sister. Only to lose her later in life.

Luckily Victoria's wish was granted, and in the late summer Elena was born. A much rounder baby than Victoria had been, she looked like the perfect mixture of both her parents, and from day one she had latched on to every member of the family with unconditional love. And, ay, what a loud baby! Her cries would shake the walls. If it had been some other time in life Héctor would have said that little Elena would have been a great singer that could have projected her voice all throughout Carnegie Hall.

But he never did.

Because ever since the night that Ernesto had died there had been no music in the Rivera's house.

Héctor shied away from Mariachi Plaza from the day he set foot back into Santa Cecilia. The only times he listened to the radio were to hear about news and sports. He poured his time and energy into other business ventures that had nothing to do with music, but had greatly reaped multiple benefits for his family and jobs for many other people: hotels, restaurants, a canning company that specialized in pork products, and schools that were scattered across Oaxaca.

Meanwhile his white calavera guitar, a present lovingly gifted to him by his wife on his birthday all those years ago, was tucked away in a closet, hidden away by hung clothes and slowly gathering dust.

But he was more than ever invested in spending his free time with his family, having missed them so much while he was away. Watching Miguel and Victoria develop their personalities, senses of humor and discover their own interests as they made their way out of their toddler years was always a treat. And Elena was so different from both of them even as a baby, so full of personality already, and she never failed to make Héctor laugh until his sides hurt.

There was one vital piece missing: Matty.

His last letters had come at the beginning of the year, after he had been shipped off from Africa to aid the troops in Anzio, Italy. And for a while all was well. He had complained a little of being stuck there as weather had bogged down the troops' advancement further inland, but other than that he was in high spirits. He talked more about his friend Martín, how he had spent most of his time scouting the area and putting up barbed wire, boring stuff really. All was well.

That was three months ago.

Before that he was managing a letter every week to allay their fears for his safety. From February to April there was absolutely nothing, and the family was frantic. Imelda sent several demanding telegraphs to the United States, not truly understanding who was exactly in charge of these things but desperate to reach anyone who could explain what was happening to her son. Héctor was sick with worry, nearly tearing his hair out in fear and nightmares consuming him once again.

And just when they were reaching the absolute peak of their terror of their son's safety, close to hopping on the first plane to Italy, damn the dangers it would pose to them… a telegram was delivered to them. An army telegram. With shaking hands Héctor took it from the delivery boy, not breathing as he read it. And his insides were flooded with the most enormous rush of relief that he had ever felt in his life as he read aloud:

To Héctor Rivera, Santa Cecilia Oaxaca, Mexico

Papá, I am so sorry it took me so long to write you. I have been injured and have been officially discharged. As soon as I am able to I will make it back home to you and our family.

Mateo Rivera

There had been a rush of emotions as the words registered to the whole family, and Héctor was too overwhelmed to really remember much of what happened then. There was screaming, shouts and laughter, and Héctor was faintly aware that he had managed to lift Rosita off the ground to spin her around and plant a huge kiss on her. And then Miguel had managed to grab his attention with a ride grin of his own.

"Matty is coming home, Papá?"

"Yes!" Héctor had cried as he twirled his little boy in a huge circle. "Your brother is coming home!"

It had taken a little while longer for him to actually get there, however. A whole month to be exact. But they had kept in touch through quick telegrams, and one evening there was a phone call and his parents were finally able to hear his voice. He had made it to Juarez and would be taking a train all the way to Santa Cecilia.

"No, no! A train is too long and strenuous mijo! I'll wire you some money to take a plane."

"Ay… It'll be too… difficult to use a plane Papá. I'll be fine on a train, don't worry."

And so that's were he and Imelda were two days later as the train pulled into the station, Miguel being held by Imelda, as they watched the passengers slowly exit. As more and more people poured out and the train became seemingly empty, Héctor felt that ever present pang of worry forming in his stomach. Did Matty miss the train? Had something happened? How could something happen now, after escaping the hellfire of war only to have bad luck fall on him before he even made it home?! That's all Héctor had these days: Just bad, rotten luck! How would he be even able to find him-

"Mamá! Papá!" Miguel screeched out as he wriggled in Imelda's grasp and pointed towards the rear railcar. "There he is! There he is!"

Héctor followed to where Miguel pointed at and… there he was.

Matty slowly made his way down the steps of the railcar as carefully as possible, being supported by an unknown woman and leaning heavily on two crutches, his face scrunched up and strained. Once he set foot on solid ground did he let himself relax with a great heaving sigh, and Héctor could see what the last two years of war had done to his boy.

Matty was only twenty-one years old. He looked thirty-one. His hair, which he usually kept slicked back and out of his face, was now much longer and hung disheveled over his forehead and was sticking behind his glasses. His face was covered in a scratchy stubble that was almost formed into an actual beard. And Dios, he was so thin! Even from a distance he could see his arms trembling to hold himself up on his crutches. His boy needed his help!

"Mateo!"

With a short start, Matty jerked his head up and peered throughout the bustling crowd in search of the voice that had called out his name. As soon as their eyes locked, all of the weariness on his face melted away and Matty's face cracked into the biggest smile that Héctor had ever seen him make. With renewed vigor he started making his way over to them on his crutches, slowly building up speed towards his family.

"Papá! Papá!"

Héctor wasn't going to wait for him. He wasn't going to let his son painfully hobble towards them. He would come to him instead. With several quick strides Héctor met Matty in the middle of Santa Cecilia station with a joyful whoop and crushed him into the biggest hug he could give him, the biggest hug he had been wanting to give him for the last two years now. And then Héctor did the one thing Matty had begged him to never do again ever since he was seven years old:

He grabbed his son on both sides of his face and peppered rapid-fire kisses on his cheeks.

"AGH-NO! Papá! Pap-pppt!" Matty tried to squirm out of Héctor's vice-like grip, his face squished into comical distortions and his glasses knocked askew. "Papá, stop -mmph! Papá, prr frr-vrrr!"

With one last loud smooch, Héctor crushed Matty to his chest again and cradled his head tightly. "Matty! Mi hijo! Mi niño precioso!" He held his son even closer, refamiliarizing himself with the feel of his child in his arms. His warmth, his scent, his solid presence. His son was back in his arms, alive and whole, just like he had promised two years ago in this very spot. His son had come home. "Matty… I'm never letting you go again."

"…Please let me go." Matty wheezed out. "Shot… hurts!"

"Ay!" Héctor quickly released Matty from his death grip and propped him upright. "I'm so sorry, mijo. I'm just… so happy to see you!"

Getting his breath back, Matty smiled faintly at his father. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you too." Glancing over Héctor's shoulder he practically melted at the sight of his mother. "Mamá…"

"Mateo!' Imelda sobbed and pulled him into an equally joyous, but much less painful, one armed hug with Miguel joining in happily. "Ay Matty, I was so worried! Are you in pain? Do you need to sit down? You're so skinny!"

"I'm fine Mamá, gracias." Matty smiled warmly. "If anything, sitting for so long on the train hurt more than standing now. Miguel! Look how big you are! You're practically a man!"

"I missed you Matty. I almost forgot what your voice sounds like!" Miguel said, not noticing the way Matty's smiled dimmed a little and a flinch of pain creased his brow. "Did you get shot?" Miguel asked with innocent curiosity. "Did it hurt?"

"Miguel!" Imelda hissed.

"It's alright Mamá." Matty said tiredly. "We'll talk about that later, okay gordito? I just want to look at you all right now, I missed you sooooo…"Matty trailed off as he was finally able to drink in his family's appearance , and when he finally settled on Héctor his eyes widened and his voice trailed off in shock. "Papá!"

Héctor smiled lovingly at his son, not noticing his mild horror. "Yes, Matty?"

"Y-… Your hair…"

"Ah yes, I'm styling it now." Héctor chuckled as he raked his fingers through the slicked back bangs. "I'm too old for that messy, boyish look. It suits me, no?"

"Not that!" Matty said in exasperation. "Papá, your hair is gray! Really really gray!"

Héctor huffed and patted his hair down with a pout. Yes, it was true that his hair over the last year had grown… a touch lighter. 'Stress' his doctor had told him. Fine, he could live with that. He didn't need to be reminded of it though! "It's slate, not gray. Besides, I'm an old man. Of course my hair would lose it's color over time."

"Not this much when you're only forty-three!"

"Oh come on, I think it makes me looked distinguished."

"You look like you got hit in the head with flour!"

"Now wait just a minute-"

"Ahem… Um, Matthew?"

A soft, accented voice broke Héctor away from the banter with his son and his brow furrowed in confusion. Matthew?

Turning towards the voice Héctor and Imelda saw a woman standing a few feet away from them, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. By her outfit Héctor was able to recognize her as the same woman who had helped Matty down from the train, but looking at her now he could see that she was… different. In fact, she stood out like a sore thumb against the numerous people bustling through the train station, some even stopping to gawk at her.

She was very pretty, that was for sure. She wore a dusky blue traveling suit, complete with a small matching hat, and dainty white lace gloves. Her brown hair was curled into several tight ringlets that framed her thin face and her large eyes were that faintest blue that Héctor had ever seen. And her skin was very, very pale. This woman… was not Mexican.

Matty held out a hand towards the girl for her to take, which she did with a soft and dimpled smile. And when Héctor turned to look at Matty he saw a look cross his face that looked alarmingly familiar.

It was clear to everyone that Matty was the spitting image of his father, albeit a more scholarly version. But their mannerisms were completely different. While Héctor was dreamy and expressive, Matty was stern and reserved. Aside from looks he and his son were as different as night and day. But the look on his son's face was eerily similar to a look he once saw on himself when he glanced in a mirror. A dopey, gob-smacked smile and drooping eyes that made him look like he was drunk. And this look only happened when he was staring at Imelda.

Love-drunk.

Ay, Dios mio…

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Matty spoke in English as he took her hand and drew her closer to his family. "I got so caught up with my family I almost forgot to introduce you, but let me do that now. Wanda, this is my father Héctor, my mother Imelda, and my little brother Miguel."

Switching back to Spanish, Matty held the woman close to his side and addressed his parents with a wide grin. "Papá, Mamá, this is Wanda Mae Neely. She is… a very good friend of mine."

"Mamá." Miguel whispered loudly into Imelda's ear. "Why is she so light? Is she a ghost?" Imelda jerked him sharply in her arms with a harsh shush, but Miguel continued to stare at the woman with intense awe, mouthing 'La Llorona'.

Wanda bowed her head a little and did a slight curtsey. "Gusto en con-o-cer-lo, Señor y Señora Rivera. And you too-ah, I mean-… Ee yee tu, Miguel. No, that's not- Y Tam-bien?... Usted?"

Héctor smiled warmly as the poor girl's face started to turn bright red with embarrassment. "It's alright, Miss Neely. You can speak English when you're around us, no need to fret. Right Imelda?"

Turning towards his wife, he couldn't help but smirk as Imelda was looking at the girl with a guarded, yet still wary expression. Then she looked between Wanda and her son with growing apprehension and Héctor felt his smiling widening. Not a nice feeling, is it Imelda? To see that your son has found another woman in his life. Oh ho ho, how the tables have turned.

But seeing his son look at her with such a softness that he had never seen before made Héctor both happy and extremely relieved. Dios knows that Matty deserved it. "Any friend of our son's is a friend of ours." He said.

"How do you know my son?" Imelda asked pointedly. While it was true Imelda's fluency in English wasn't as strong as Héctor's and one could believe that she was just asking in the most basic way, Héctor knew her enough to know that she was purposely sniffing out any abnormalities in this relationship that she could pounce on.

Wanda seemed to catch on to the slight hostility and blushed even harder. "Oh, well… I was a nurse stationed in Texas before I joined the war effort. I had to process the recruits before they were sent off, but I couldn't speak Spanish so I found Matthew- er, Mateo- and he became my unofficial translator. Then by chance we were both stationed in Africa together, so we got to know each other more after that."

Now that was strange. In all the letters that Matty had sent him over the years not once did he mention a girl as sweet as Wanda. Mostly they were talks of his travels, the friends he had made, complaining about weather and food, as well as dealing with a shrill and demanding harpy of a woman who exploited him for her own needs-

Oh!

"This is the harpy?!" Héctor exclaimed as he pointed at Wanda.

In English.

Matty's face lost all color in an instant and he made a painful choking noise before glancing frantically at Wanda, who for her part was smirking with a raised brow. "N-no! Wanda that's not-! Papá, what are you doing?!"

"Dios mio, Matty. When you were complaining so much about that nurse in your letters I always imagined an old, spiteful crone. Not this beautiful señorita standing before us."

"That's not true! I-… I specifically said that she was pretty…"

Wanda giggled softly and rubbed Matty's shoulder as it was now his face that was turning bright red. "That's alright Mister Rivera. We didn't start off on the right foot. And trust me, I've called him much worse things."

Héctor nodded with a chuckle and Imelda hummed in slight approval, a slight smile twitching her lips. Alright, this girl was good.

Looking down at the wheelchair still being pushed by Wanda, Imelda said, "Mateo, maybe you should sit in the wheelchair now. We'll wheel you to the car."

"What? No I don't need to…" Suddenly Matty let out a gasp and turned towards Wanda, horrified. "Martín!"

"Oh, hell!" Wanda cursed, quickly turning around and made her way back to railcar, nearly plowing through the crowds of people in her haste. "Lo si-en-to! Lo si-ento!"

"Matty, what's going on?" Héctor asked.

"Ah-… I have… one more friend coming with us. With all the excitement I keep forgetting everyone, it seems." Matty chuckled nervously. "It's kinda why I didn't want to take a plane. But I've written about him a lot, it's my friend Martín!"

"Some friend!" A loud voice shot out from the crowd. "You and Wanda left me literally hanging on the doorway! Gangway pendejos, make room! And be careful Wanda, you're dealing with precious cargo here y'know!"

Wanda huffed out a sigh as she pushed the wheelchair with Martín in it. "I can't understand you when you speak Spanish, Martín."

"Well you'll have ample time to learn it with Rivera." Martín said with a sniff, brightening when he saw Matty with his parents. "Speaking of! Señor Rivera! It is an honor and a privilege to meet you! I have been waiting two years to personally shake your hand! My name is Martín Reyes!"

Héctor stared at the young man seated in the wheelchair. Martín had a very stocky build, but he could tell that most of his muscle mass had already wasted away a little with his uniform fitting him loosely. His hair had been primped and poofed into an impressive pompadour, and he had a gleaming wide smile. Cleanshaven and smelling strongly of cologne, Héctor could tell that Martín had groomed himself as best as he could to make a good first impression.

But he couldn't detract his attention away from the fact that the poor boy's left leg from above the knee was completely gone, the pant leg tied into a tight knot at the end. Miguel was already staring at it with wide eyes, with Imelda quickly whispering in his ear and making him nod his head in agreement.

Héctor's heart sank for the boy, but he smiled and grasped his hand firmly. "It a pleasure to meet you Martín, and we all thank you for your services. Matty wrote about you a little in his letters, I'm glad he found a friend in such a trying situation."

"No, I'm glad he befriended me!" Martín said with a laugh. "If he weren't there to save my hide back in Italy I would have lost more than my leg, that's for sure! I am hoping, however, that I'll get some Rivera Shoes at half off though!"

Héctor and Imelda stared at Matty in astonishment. "You saved his life? Oh, Mateo… You're a hero?"

"Well, he saved me after-" Matty started, but his words caught in his throat and he gazed towards the ground, emotionless. "We'll talk about it later. Si?"

Imelda stared at Matty for a minute, before nodding and turning back to Martín. "Still, after all of that, you must be glad to be home, Señor Reyes."

Martín shrugged. "Actually, I'm from Texas, Señora Rivera. My parents immigrated there before I was born. I've always wanted to come Mexico to find my roots, though ever since I've met Rive-uh, Mateo- I've found a… new reason to want to come here."

The way that Martín's face seemed to soften at that last statement drew Héctor's attention back to him. And the way he kept covertly sneaking peeks at the people passing by made it clear that he was looking for someone in the crowds. Someone specific.

"Where is Coco?" Matty asked, causing Martín to perk up at the question. "I'd thought she'd be here too."

Imelda smiled. "Oh, she would have! She's just as excited and relieved that you're finally home, however… the baby woke up from her nap a little too early, so she had to stay behind."

Matty's face split into an ecstatic grin at the news. "A new baby! Really?! Wanda, I have a new niece!"

Héctor nodded. "Elena. She is such a fireball, you're going to love her. The cutest little gordita ever!"

"Gracias a Dios for that!" Imelda laughed. "I'm tired of having flaco family members. It's about time someone in this family has some meat on their bones. Speaking of which, Coco and Rosita are cooking dinner for tonight. Is there anything special you want them to make?"

"Everything."

Startled, Imelda blinked at her son and shook her head. "I'm sorry?"

With an increasingly manic glint in his eye, Matty smiled widely. "I have been eating K-rations, 24-hour rations, minute meals and oatmeal for the last two years. The most exotic spice I've had across my tongue has been pinche salt, and if I see another can of tinned meat I'm going to chuck it into the sewage where it belongs. So I want everything that you have ever made me since the day I was born, covered in cheese, swimming in mole sauce, and smothered in peppers. And I want seconds. And I want thirds. I-want-to-EAT….."

Héctor and Imelda stared wide-eyed as Matty smiled maniacally, a thin stream of drool creeping out of the side of his mouth. Holding Miguel close to her, Imelda laughed nervously and turned to walk away. "Ha… Well, I'm always glad when my children want to eat… J-just… wait here while we pull the car around."

As they walked quickly away, Héctor whispered, "I guess now wouldn't be a good time to bring up the Papá Rivera Canning Company…"

Waiting for the couple to return for them, no one noticed the trio left behind conversing with each other in English.

"Ay, she's not here." Martín whined as he subconsciously gripped the thigh of his bad leg. "I thought she might be hear to greet us, but…"

Matty patted Martín on the shoulder comfortingly. "Relax, amigo. You heard Mamá. She's staying behind to cook dinner."

"That's right." Wanda said. "Just half an hour more and you'll finally get to meet your armada."

"... What? Oh, no it's amada, sweetheart."

"What did I say?"

Pulling out a wrinkled, worn out foto from his breast pocket, Martín looked at it lovingly. The beautiful image giving him much needed strength, just like it had done for the whole time he had been fighting in the war, he nodded. "You're right. I've waited two long years to meet her. A half hour won't hurt."

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

When they arrived at the Rivera house it was surprisingly Oscar and Felipe who had greeted them first, their shouts alerting everyone else that they were there. Matty was delighted that his uncles had come all the way from Guadalajara just to see him, and the twins gasped in mock offense.

"Not see our own sobrino?!"

"After he's been gone for two years-"

"-fighting in a hellish warzone-"

"-on the other side of the world?!"

"You wound us, Matty"

Matty ducked his head sheepishly. "Si, you're right. I'm sorry I worried you all."

"Also, we have soooome shoe designs we wanted you to look at first." Felipe said as he whipped out an inch-thick folder crammed with dozens of wrinkled blueprints. "Get your opinion first before Imelda immediately vetoes them."

"Ay, tios, that can wait until later!" Coco said, Julio and Victoria trailing behind her while she carried a squirming baby in her arms. "Bienvenido a casa, hermanito!"

Matty hugged his sister warmly, letting her kiss his cheek, and turned his attention to the baby with a small coo. Elena glared at him, a stranger, with as much vigor as a nine-month old could muster. She looked him up and down, trying to gage who this scruffy man was and what he was doing here. When her Mamá gently told her that this was her Tio Mateo, her family, the change was instantaneous. Soon Elena was beaming a four-toothed grin as she reached out for this new member of her beloved family, which Matty was all too happy reciprocate as he took her and held her close. Everyone laughed and aawed as the baby pressed a sloppy kiss on his nose and then tried to tear the glasses from his face. He had officially passed the test.

Both Coco and Rosita were ecstatic to meet and get to know Wanda, who had already been nearly crushed twice by a Rosita hug, and told her they would need to teach her everything they knew if she wanted to learn how to cook for Matty. While the ladies had retreated back into the kitchen to retrieve the plates of food, the men chatted out in the courtyard as they set the table. Facundo went on and on about how he would plan a grand celebration in honor of Matty's return home later that week.

"You served in the American army for two years, saved countless lives, and were gravely injured in battle and they're not even going to give you a medal?! Not to mention they didn't even inform your poor family that you were hurt in the first place! Well if they won't honor your sacrifices, niño, then you'll be damned sure that I will immortalize you in Santa Cecilia history!"

Oscar and Felipe shared their numerous shoe ideas to Matty, not noticing the way the poor boy's eyes were glazing over as they droned on.

"See along the sole? Well instead of stitches-"

"-how about just a zipper all around?"

"You can mix and match your shoes-"

"-to your heart's content!"

Blinking numbly at that, Matty scratched the stubble of his chin. "Uh… zippers aren't very sturdy compared to stitches. Also wouldn't they scrape your feet every step? Oh! I think Martín asking me to come over! Excuse me!" Walking over to Martín and Héctor on his crutches, he leant down and hissed at Martín. "What happened to the signal?! You were supposed to save me from them ten minutes ago!"

"I can't take it anymore, Rivera!" Martín groaned out, his face straining red and sweat beading his forehead. "I've been dreaming of this moment for two years! I've waited long enough, fought through hell and painful agony to get here, just to see her! I have to act now! Seize my moment!"

Héctor winced at the words and fought down the sour, painful feeling that he always felt when he heard them. Dios, how he hated that catchphrase. With a shake of his head, he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Her!" Martín exclaimed and thrust his hands out at the kitchen. "Mi diosa!"

That made Héctor blink in surprise and confusion. "Diosa?"

Turning towards the kitchen he saw Coco come out with two bowls of food to place them on the table, and with a deep glare he turned his attention back to the love-sick Martín as he gawked at her like she was a piece of meat. Are you kidding me?

Fishing a pick out of his jacket, Martín started to fluff up his pompadour to an even more ridiculous height as his eyes never left Coco. "Forgive me, Señor. Your son told me that was what you called your wife, but I cannot think of a better way of expressing how truly mesmerizing she is! Words fail me in the presence of her beauty!" With a final flick to his hair he looked up at Matty with a nervous grin. "How do I look?"

Matty raised an eyebrow. "Like an electrified rooster."

"Perfecto! Now give me your crutches."

"What?"

"Your crutches! How am I supposed to swagger in this wheelchair, give me your pinche crutches!"

"Alright alright! Dios…"

"Now wait a minute, chamacos!" Héctor called out, but he was entirely ignored as the two young men clumsily tried both to raise Martín out of the wheelchair and switch off with the crutches. Soon though Martín was standing on his one good leg with a triumphant smile and winked at Matty.

"Watch closely, Rivera. I'll show you how to get a girl." He said as he slowly hobbled towards the kitchen.

Matty rolled his eyes as he leaned heavily onto the wheelchair. "I've already got a girl, but whatever."

"Mateo!" Héctor hissed as he leaned into his son's face. "He does know that your sister is married, doesn't he?!"

"Huh? Si, he knows."

Héctor was flabbergasted. "And still you're going to let him make a fool out himself in front of the whole family?! I won't stand for-"

"Shh shh shhh…" Matty pressed a finger in front of his father's face, then pointed towards the action about to take place. "Just watch, old man."

And so, with bated breath and a clenched gut, Héctor watched as Martín slowly and nervously made his way over to Coco. Ay, this was not going to end well! Soon Martín was right in front of Coco, to the side of Coco, past Coco-

Wait…

"Disculpe señorita?" Martín asked softly and with such heartwarming sincerity. "You are Rosita Magallanes, si?"

Rosita looked up from where she was putting the last plates of food on the table, and her eyes widened as she saw Matty's handsome friend gazing at her with the softest smile no man had ever given her before. She had seen him when Matty had arrived and had even chatted about him to Coco and Mamá Imelda. 'That poor man, how awful to be hurt that badly!' But now, seeing him standing upright she could see how tall he would be if fate hadn't been so unkind to him. And how wide his shoulders were. And how long and fluffy his eyelashes were. Feeling her face warming up to an alarming degree, she nodded. "Si… And you're Martín… From Matty's letters."

Martín chuckled at that. "Oh! I'm glad you know about me. Because… He's told me a lot about you. I mean, because I wanted him to tell me-Ay, see, umm…" With a fumbling hand Mateo reached into his pocket and pulled out the worn foto and handed it to her. "You see, two years ago Riv- erm, Mateo- received a shipment of boots from his mother, and this was with it."

Rosita took the photo, and he eyes widened. It was the picture she had taken with Miguel and Mamá Imelda after they had crafted Matty a pair of combat boots, to serve as a reminder to him that his family loved him and were waiting for him to return home safe and sound. Only the portion of Miguel and Mamá Imelda had been cut off and discarded. Leaving only her. "Oh…"

"I kept stealing it from Mateo so much that he ended up just giving me this piece." Martín said with a shrug. "And I can honestly say that… this picture has gotten me through some very dark times these past two years. Or maybe not the picture but… just hoping for the opportunity to maybe get to see you, and-… I'm sorry for being so forward, I don't mean to scare you or upset you, but… I didn't want to have to go through all that hell, pain and loss without telling you that if it helped keep you safe even a little… Then it was worth it."

Rosita clutched the foto to her chest with a choked squeak and blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. The two of them gazed at each other for a few moments, both smiling softly. Coco and Imelda stared at the two, completely surprised but exchanging excited smiles at each other. Wanda couldn't follow the conversation, but she could read the mood and nodded and winked over at Matty. Héctor stared like he had been slapped upside the head at the unexpected turn of events, ripped right out of a romance movie that reeked of so much cheese he was sure Ernesto would have killed to have read lines like that. He turned to look at Matty, who just grinned from ear to ear and shrugged.

Getting over his nerves somewhat, Martín continued on. "I must admit, I find myself a stranger in this new town, miles away from my home. But I would love nothing more than to have you as my company during my stay, Señorita Magallanes."

No. NO! That had to be from a movie!

"O-of course!" Rosita squealed as she shoved Coco's plate and glass roughly to the side to clear the space, ignoring her friend's offended protest as her tea was spilled everywhere. "You can sit by me tonight!"

Dinner carried on throughout the night, several toasts flung out to celebrate Matty's return, to Matty's health, Martín's health, to Mexico, and many others. Everyone talked animatedly throughout, with Matty stopping to translate every now and again for Wanda. The poor girl was a little overwhelmed by the spice of some of the food, but thoroughly enjoyed the tamales and the flan that came for dessert. Julio kept shooting worried looks towards his sister and this strange man who was apparently sweeping her off her feet, despite having only one himself. A subject that little Miguel couldn't hold off asking about any longer, but luckily Martín was fine with talking about.

"Did getting your leg blowed up hurt?" Miguel asked, wincing as Imelda poked him with a fingernail.

"Ay, honestly niño I don't remember much from when it happened." Martín said. "When you go through that much pain your brain sometimes turns off and you forget about it. It was the recovery part that was the worst, that was when it hurt. Sometimes I can still feel my leg like it's still there. Sometimes it feels like it itches!"

"Really?!"

"Si! But the food they gave me while I recovered, ay, you'd think they were trying to kill me rather than heal me!" Turning towards Rosita with a syrupy smile, he gushed, "Of course, if I had any of your dear Rosita's cooking then I would have probably regrown a whole new leg by now."

Rosita giggled and blushed harder. "You flatterer. But by all means please have some more!"

By the time dinner was finished and little Elena was put to bed, all the adults were quietly conversing while Miguel and Victoria played in the courtyard. Julio tried get his father to notice that his daughter was clearly being entranced by this weird soldier, but Facundo seemed blissfully unaware and was content that Rosita had simply made a new friend. Matty had his arm slung around Wanda's shoulder as she snuggled up to his, and Oscar and Felipe went over the shoe ideas that Matty had personally voted in favor for with Imelda. Si, hermana, a shrug counts as a yes!

Somehow the conversation had come around to mention dogs and Matty slapped at his forehead. "Dios mio, I can't believe I forgot! Where's Dante? Dante! Come here boy!"

The talking fizzled to a halt as all the adults glanced at each other sadly while Matty whistled and clapped for the dog to come. Not being able to let this go on for much longer Héctor stood up and walked over to his son, placing his hand on his shoulder to stop his calling. "Mijo…"

Matty stopped at the tone of his father's voice, turning to him with his smile lightly faltering. "…What? What is it? Did something happen to Dante?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Héctor groaned, "Well, see… the thing is… Dante-"

"ARF ARF!"

"Dante!"

Within a spilt second Héctor was knocked off his feet as a blur of tanned gray shot out from under him. He fell with a startled yelp as a hairless dog leapt up onto Matty's legs and frantically licked all over his face, knocking his glasses to the side of his head. Matty laughed happily as he tried to push the dog off of him and Héctor sat up with a groan covered in dirt.

"Aw Dante! I'm so happy to see you! Did you miss me, boy?!" He turned the dog's wrinkled face towards his girl. "Wanda, look! It's my dog, Dante! I told you about him, remember?"

Wanda stared at the dog, gritting a tight smile as her eyebrow twitched. "Yes… I didn't know he'd be so… leathery."

Héctor blinked at the scene before him, feeling like his brain was fizzling and popping inside his head. No. That wasn't him. Dante was dead! He had been gone for as long as Matty was! It had to be another dog, just another pelón dog that just happened to be as extremely attached to Matty as Dante had been. But then the dog looked at him, with those same distant eyes that pointed in different directions, and with that same vacant grin. Even the tongue was ridiculously long like Dante's had been.

But no! It was impossible!

"M-Matty… That can't-"

"He looks great Papá! He looks just like when he was younger! What have you been feeding him?!" Matty exclaimed as he peered into the dog's eyes. "You even got his cataracts fixed! Gracias! This calls for a celebration! C'mon boy!"

As Matty hurried as fast as he could with two crutches and an overly-hyped dog yapping at his heels, Héctor sat in the dirt pondering what exactly was going on that night.

Bursting into his room, making a quick side glance at Leti's bed still made up to perfection, Matty pulled out his suitcase and flung it onto the bed. Popping it open and pulling back the various items of clothes and toiletries, his hard trumpet case came into view and he pulled it out. Retrieving the beautiful golden trumpet inside, he grinned at his distorted refection in the brass. "Time for some music!"

"No."

Flinching at the voice, Matty turned to see Imelda standing in the doorway, a solemn expression on her face. Puzzled, he placed the trumpet down and made his way over to her. "Mamá?... What's wrong?"

"Your father… We… don't listen to music, not anymore."

This made Matty slightly gasp. Turning to look back at his trumpet he saw Dante's head laying gently over the instrument, the dog whining sadly as he nuzzled the metal. Matty paused for a few moments as he tried to figure all of this out, but honestly it just didn't make sense. Papá didn't listen to music? How could that be possible? Music was one of the first things that came to mind when he thought about his father. Music was what built their family's foundation. Music wasn't just in Héctor Rivera, it was Héctor Rivera!

"I don't understand?"

With a deep sigh, Imelda walked further into the room. "Sit down mijo. There are some things that I need to tell you."

#somos familia #Hector Rivera #mama coco #mama imelda #pixar coco #coco pixar #coco fanfiction #Abuelita is finally here!

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idreamofhazeleyes · 5 years ago

Text

Ties in Blood -- Chapter 31

Yet another chapter that took longer than necessary to write and post. Life pushed it to the side. I might do a drabble or two (idk). I’m ... still trying to process my dad’s death (last night), so ... yeah.

@mrswhozeewhatsis @winchestergirl-13 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @percussiongirl2017 @revwinchester @squirrelnotsam @impala-dreamer

Chapter 31

Aaliyah lined up the shot, all too aware of the several pairs of eyes on her. The bar was yet another dive off of a dimly lit highway exit. One of many she’s stopped at after leaving the biker hall. Her hand adjusted its hold on the cue. One of the men coughed with impatience. Aaliyah took the shot and sunk the eight ball. The man she had been playing against sighed. It sounded like one of his buddies had hit the wall in frustration. A corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk as she straightened. Aaliyah rested some of her weight on the pool cue while crossing one foot over the other.

“I do believe that’s game, gentlemen.”

Aaliyah eyed the alcohol embedded men around the pool table while the thought of being jumped passed through her mind. A couple had stepped in closer to Aaliyah as she reached for the pile of money. Part of her wanted the fight the men seemed to hold back from. It would have been a welcome distraction for a moment.

“So you think you can come in, hustle us, and walk out?” one of the men asked.

“Half figured there’d be a fight over something,” Aaliyah countered. “Didn’t figure it’d be over you lot being hustled.”

“We hustle and be hustled; all part of the game,” the man said. “It’s not common for one such as yourself to hustle.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. Another man who decided that she had to prove her place to. She reached over to the pile of money and grabbed it. “Well, sucks to be you lot, huh?”

Aaliyah took a couple steps back from the man as she pocketed the money before turning for the door. The few people that had been loitering near the door now stepped in front of it; baring her exit.

“Give our money back, and we’ll let you go,” the man instructed.

“Or you can stop being a sore loser and let me go.” Aaliyah turned around. “I’d hate to beat you twice in one night.”

She nearly froze when the man charged at her with a yell. Aaliyah caught herself before the man got close to actually tackling her.

His hand grabbed her wrist, preventing her from running.

Aaliyah balled her free hand and swung; making contact with the man’s face. The hit caused him to loosen his hold. Just for a second before he flung her toward a pillar. She hit with a grunt and steadied herself.

The man charged at her.

Aaliyah waited until the last moment to move, hearing the man impact against the pillar. A smile pulled at her mouth when her mind recognized that she was getting the fight she wanted.

Someone grabbed hold of her from behind. A heel slammed down on their toes, releasing her arms. Aaliyah spun and landed two hits to the face before a motion from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

A third man had decided to jump into the fight and managed a solid hit to Aaliyah’s face. It was hard enough to send her back a couple steps before she recovered. A fist went for the man’s stomach before it swung up for a jaw hit.

Another came from Aaliyah’s side and tackled her to the ground. From that angle she recognized her attacker as the first guy who started the fight.

“Y’all know,” she started. “I’m all for a good time.”

The man landed a couple hits to her face.

“But not when the guy and his lackies are trying to beat me to a pulp.”

Aaliyah brought up a knee to the man’s crotch and pushed him off of her as he grabbed the injured area. She caught her balance and waited for the next man to attack. A minute or two passed before her mind caught on to the fact that there was no new attack due to the fact that the crowd and fighters were being held back by several burly bikers. One of them stepped up to Aaliyah and handed her a pile of money.

“We’d like to talk with you,” they said.

Aaliyah accepted the money before she turned her attention to the biker that held a couple inches on her. Either it was the fact one of her eyes might have taken a hit or it took a bit longer for Aaliyah to see that the biker was a woman.

“Thanks for the help, but I’m just gonna take this and be on my way,” Aaliyah told the other woman. She pocketed the money as she started to push through the parting crowd for the door.

She stepped out and sighed as the cool summer night air hit her face. There had to be an easier way to make money while still working cases. It was hard enough proving to other hunters she had every right to hunt along side them; but toss in the assholes in the bar who took being hustled by a woman the wrong way. It was something else.

“Still here, huh?”

It was the biker woman who gave Aaliyah the pool money.

“Just leaving. Gotta get a few hours of sleep before hitting the road.”

“You know, the tough guy act doesn’t suit you,” the woman called after her.

“It suits just fine, thanks,” Aaliyah tossed over a shoulder. “If you excuse me…” she reached her car and opened the door. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

“I know about the Winchesters.”

Aaliyah froze half way into the car. Did they screw up so much in a short time that people knew about them? Or was it something else?

“How they closed the hell gate and dealing with the Yellow Eyed demon,” the woman continued. “And how they got into deep trouble.”

Aaliyah got her balance and slammed the car door in her storm back to the woman. “And what else do you know, huh? Do you know that Dean made a cross roads deal to bring Sam back to life? That he got shredded by a hellhound two weeks ago? No? Thought as much. Now, what do you and your biker gang want with me?”

“Singer reached out to us,” the woman said. “Says he’s worried about you. I don’t blame him after what I saw inside.”

“And he knows what happened.”

“Which is why he’s worried about you. Let us put you up for the night; warm bed and food. And probably a hot shower.”

The possibility of a hot shower seemed to be a good idea, but the motel offered the same thing. Same with the bed. What the motel offered for food was two day old fast food.

“Where are we going?” Aaliyah asked.

“My place. Figured you’d wanna take a break from all the male hormones for a while.”

“How do I know you’re not taking me some place just to kill me?” Part of Aaliyah heard Dean in that question. Maybe the Winchesters taught her more than just how to hunt.

“Miguel would have my head if anything happened to you under my watch,” the woman told her. “Current wounds aside, of course. You’re more than welcome to go back to the motel you’re staying at of course.”

Aaliyah shifted her weight, mentally debating the options. An actual save place to rest up for a night or two or go back to the motel where the guys from the bar could find her and do who knew what to her.

“Lead on.”

***

Aaliyah stared at the well kept house as she pulled up in front of it on the street. She eased out of the car and heard the bike’s engine die. It would take a minute for her to get back in the car and take off down the street. The biker woman would be upset about it, but there was really nothing that could stop Aaliyah from running again. But there was something about how much work the biker group put into trying to get her attention. With a steady breath, she moved away from the car and started up toward the house.

“I never did get your name,” Aaliyah told the woman once within ear shot.

“Senona. Come on in; some of the others want to meet you.”

Aaliyah watched Senona head for the side door before following along. Butterflies started flapping around in her stomach. Of all the things she had faced off since that werewolf back in college, dealing with people when not on a case was one thing she forgot how to handle. She stepped through the door held open by Senona and heard a chorus of laughter from a room.

“Come on in,” Senona invited. “The guys tend to be a bit … loud when they get drunk.”

“And full of pizza.” Aaliyah gestured to the boxes on the stove. “Sounds like a party.”

Another round of laughter came from the other room. Aaliyah looked up from the pizza to see Senona disappearing into that room. Left with little choice, Aaliyah stepped into the room that held a good dozen biker men that all seem to fit the big and burly type cliché.

One by one, the men fell silent and turned their attention to her.

“Guys, Aaliyah,” Senona made the introduction. “She’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

“You know the rules about bringing outsiders to club houses,” one man told Senona. “Especially when they’re not …”

“She’s a hunter,” Senona cut in.

Aaliyah glared at the man when he turned again to her and sized her up. “What proof do you want that I’m a hunter? I’ve got scars from my first werewolf I took out, two different djinn hand prints on my neck, and who knows how many ghosts, demons, and things that go bump in the night.”

“Sounds like you’re playing yourself up,” the man said.

“I wouldn’t play up facing off against a yellow eyed demon who opened up a gate to hell,” Aaliyah said. “Hard not to when I teamed up with a few other people.”

“I heard stories of that,” a second spoke up. “A lot of demons got out from that gate. There weren’t that many hunters on that case. How’d you end up on that?”

“Not sure you’d all wanna hear how I got into hunting.” Aaliyah scanned the drink covered table and picked up an unopened bottle of beer. “It’s a dull tale.” She opened the bottle.

“With your ties to the hell gate, I wanna hear,” The first man said.

“Still not much to tell.” Aaliyah took a drink. “I got a favor called in by someone to help find their father. A mess trying to find a gun that eventually killed the yellow eyed demon. There was a semi that T-boned the car; sending us all to the hospital.”

“I heard about that,” a third chimed in. “How’d you all survive?”

Aaliyah glanced around the room to see a dozen men plus Senona waiting to hear what happened. “We barely did. John and Sam had minor injuries…”

“John? As in Winchester?” one man deeper in the living room asked.

“You never said you teamed up with the Winchesters,” Senona said.

“Now you know why.” Aaliyah put the bottle on the table as she stood. “For once I’d love to be judged on my own work and not be judged or tied to the Winchesters.”

“What makes…”

“Because I’ve had it since I met Ellen,” Aaliyah snapped. “Every hunter that’s known of the Winchesters or came in contact with them judged me against them. Can you blame me for wanting to distance myself from the Winchesters?”

“If half the stories about them are true, you’ve got a tough time a head,” Senona said.

Aaliyah sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You all didn’t believe I was a hunter until I mentioned a name.”

“It’ll take time for others to realize that you’re not completely tied to the Winchesters,” the first man said. “And to be fair, with half of your hunts being with the Winchesters, it’s difficult to separate you from them.”

“Then stop comparing me to them,” Aaliyah yelled. “This was pointless.” She stormed back through the kitchen and out the back door.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed behind her as she was half way down the drive.

“Wait, please,” a voice called after her.

“So you can tell me how much I don’t live up to the Winchesters even more? Not going to happen.”

“You live up to them and more,” the voice answered. “Why do you think the guys in there were questioning how you survived?”

Aaliyah slowed to a stop before she reached the car. There had been various reasons why she survived; the same that the guys had. Sure, there were the odd moments she saw death, but managed to survived.

“Why would they care how I survived?” she asked.

“Not many people last in our line of work,” a new voice answered. “And women tend to have a lower survival rate than men. Can you really blame us for believing you’ve survived this long?”

“I ask you to believe I have. Especially since I’ve been hunting for two years before teaming up with the Winchesters. I met Dean and his father once nearly four years ago.” Aaliyah turned to see Senona and Tom standing in the driveway. “Is this a common belief that I can’t hunt without the Winchesters; or that I can hunt without them and that scares everyone?”

“Some sort of combination of both,” Tom answered. “You’ve gotten so tied up with them, you probably go destructive mode if cut loose. And if you’re not being destructive, you make for an awesome hunter. We …” He looked over to Senona then back to Aaliyah. “Some of us were hoping to help you not be so destructive.”

“You think you can help me not be destructive?” Aaliyah asked, a small chuckle escaped. “You lose your best friend from college in a motel bathroom after having her guts ripped from her abdomen by a wendigo. Your brother may never walk again after going up against a vampire. And who knew what your half siblings are doing right now. So, tell me, Tom. Can you and your friends in there really help me from going destructive?”

Aaliyah gave a little nod when Tom didn’t respond and reached her car.

“We can’t really stop it,” Senona called out. “But we can try and … make it less. Only if you’re willing to accept our help.”

Aaliyah stood there with a hand on the handle, her mind mulling over the offer Senona gave her. It was tempting to be sure, but was she willing to allow this group of burly biker people to take her in and maybe help? Something seeped into her mind to tell her that she couldn’t keep up what she’s done the past month forever. She looked up to Senona and Tom before stepping away from the car.

“I think I need it.”

Aaliyah walked back up to Senona and Tom and walked back into the house.

***

Aaliyah fist bumped the bouncer on her way into the club building, the whining voices of a group of entitled teenagers trailed in after her. A few weeks had passed since she accepted Senona and Tom’s offer, and they’ve helped her ease back from being so destructive. She had pulled back from actively looking for cases and picked up a job waiting tables. Senona had mentioned she had seen a difference in Aaliyah since she started staying with her. Aaliyah told the older woman she hadn’t seen that difference.

“Aaliyah, over here,” Gene called out.

She scanned the room before finding the man at the bar. He had been one of those at the house Senona took her to that night. And one of those who had questioned her ability to be a solo act as a hunter.

“What’s up?”

“Some of us have been talking…”

“Never a good thing to start off a conversation,” Aaliyah commented.

“This is a good thing,” Gene countered. “Some of the guys have been talking, and wanna get you something.”

“Like what? Not sure if I can handle another surprise after that motorcycle class.” Aaliyah eased herself into one of the bar stools. “Not sure when the actual classroom setting is done and we get to the hands on part.”

“Give it time, Kid,” Bear chimed in. “It’s an eight week class and you’re two weeks in.”

Aaliyah stared at the bar counter in the attempt to let the guilt wash over her. It wasn’t Bear’s fault that she hadn’t spoken to Bobby in weeks.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just haven’t heard that nickname in a while. An older hunter I know used to call me that.”

“Go call him. I’d be torn apart with worry if I was him.”

Aaliyah glanced to the couple other men at the bar, who nodded. Sighing, she slid off the bar stool and headed into the kitchen where the landline was and dialed Bobby’s number.

“Singer,” Bobby answered.

“Hey, Bobby,” Aaliyah spoke into the receiver. Part of her swore she heard the older hunter faint or drop his receiver from shock. “I’m okay, Bobby. Meet a rather pushy, but decent people recently.”

“You disappear for two weeks and you decide to call up now? I had people looking everywhere for you. Don’t you know how worried I was about you?”

Aaliyah looked back to the bar and the men sitting there.

“Were these people hunters or bikers?”

“Both. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think I met them. More than once; they’ve … They’ve taken me in. Got me out of hunting.” She turned back away from the view of the bar. “Bobby, they got me an actual paying job. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Take the win, Kid,” Bobby told her. “Go live a life not hunting. You deserve it.”

“After everything that I’ve gone through with and without the boys? Losing Amanda? Nearly losing Xander? Hell, I haven’t heard from Nissa and Leo in six months. That’s what got me in the deep end of hunting. Looking for family.”

Bobby sighed on his end. “I know, Kid. I’ll send feelers out for your siblings. You … try not to do anything stupid.”

Aaliyah gave an amused sound. “Okay, Bobby. If you hear from Sam … Tell him I’m okay.”

“I will. And Aaliyah. You keep in touch.”

“I’ll do my best, Bobby.”

Aaliyah put the receiver back and sighed. Part of her expected the blow up from Bobby, especially after how she just up and left his place. Another part is grateful that the people that she finally allowed inside her little protective bubble had been out looking for her on his behalf.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Bear called out. “Come on. We need to meet the others at the dealership.”

***

Aaliyah inched herself forward up to the line and waited. She cursed how slow the past eight weeks before the final road test. The Saturday had been the picturesque bright sunny morning that would call for a brunch meal at a mom and pop restaurant. Aaliyah hadn’t been able to eat anything more than a banana on the way to the college parking lot with Senona due to nerves.

The instructor signaled Aaliyah to begin.

Starting into a slow roll, she weaved her way through the cones and made a turn before coming to a stop in the formed line. A finger started tapping the gas tank as each student before her took their turn in the next section of the road test. The instructor told Aaliyah what to do for the section while she waited at the line for her turn. She caught the signaled and rolled off the line.

With each passing section, her stomach relaxed and nerves eased up. Aaliyah joined the growing crowd of students that have completed the test. She watched the instructors gather around when the last student joined the group. Aaliyah glanced over to where Senona sat and flashed a thumbs up.

“Ms. Fisher,” one of the instructors said as he approached. “Congratulations.”

Aaliyah accepted the paper and looked it over to find that she had passed the course.

#supernatural fanfic spn angst biker hunters

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fanesavin · 5 years ago

Photo

The Driftwood Prince and Lady Florent share last words and a creature is loose in the castle.

@thatwhichbindsus @ianncardero

Iann paced. He could hear the cries and calls from outside of the Keep. After the funeral, which both placated and incited the commonfolk, the gates of the Keep were now open, to an extent. People were allowed in, Nobles were allowed out. The Inquisition was drawing to a close, the Cloverry on its way to choosing another High Raj. The funeral was perfect, in a way - as was the destruction of the Kesleys, as was even that incredible assassination attempt in the Lower City on the Queen of Dark Woods. People got the burst of excitement (and since it happened in the Lower City it wasn’t too alarming; terrible things happened to poor people all the time), they got the closure they wanted in the might and majesty of Sharma’s funeral. And now they wanted to move on. But the needed the Castle - and the Sunlit Throne in particular - to tell them how they were to move on. Prepare for war, or settle into peace? This middle-state of anxiety could go one way or another. The crown was now removed from the Sunlit Throne itself, and Iann headed to the Great Hall, to look at the empty throne, no longer guarded. There was no more need. It sat there, in a sliver of sun, as if aching for someone to be seated in it. With the boldness of an impatient man, Iann took a step up to the dias, then turned to look out over the Great Hall, if only to understand that vantage point.

“Not quite the same view as the Driftwood throne is it, my Lord?” Ciara asked, approaching him as if she had always been just beside him. Her hair was twisted up - she had been working, until not so long ago. Black dress and black gloves, each befitting her grief as Lady Florent, the little known lady, not as the master of whispers. Her face was fixed as stone, as she looked him over, standing up. He hadn’t been standing much further than this when he had slit the throat of that herald. It had prevented panic, but at what cost? What a fine act it had been too. Cast himself as one of the heroes of the hour. Be interrogated early, when all the pieces were still hidden, rather than later on.

Iann was gazing at the spot on the floor, so near the flagstone of the Forty Isles. The blood from the herald had almost reached it, but not quite. “You know your way around this Castle better than I,” Iann replied with a glance at the Lady, words intending to imply that she was very good at sneaking. “This is no view for me,” he added, casting his gaze back over the Great Hall. He looked to the left of him, which opened up to the ocean. “I get news of my father almost every day, now.” He turned to look to Ciara. “I believe the new Coronation will be swift, once a High Raj is chosen and then we shall all be on our way again, under whatever manner of peace we can take.” Like feeding off meagre scraps, rather than a full belly after a feast. Perhaps it was better that way. “You’ll plan to remain in the Castle, I assume.”

“Does his news concern you?” She asked, sidestepping his comments as easily as she sidestepped bodies. Ciara had her hands clasped before her, her head tilted, watching, her eyes seeking. “Perhaps. Who would you see on the throne, that would give us peace?” She stepped aside, glancing to the sea also, and wondered whether it called his name out loud, or only whispered it in the dead of night. “Wherever I am wanted.”

“No, not wherever you are wanted,” he said with a smile, recalling their last conversation. “You feel most useful here, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a mild realization. As a Prince he had the luxury of feeling wanted, and useful, everywhere he went. He took it for granted that people would want his company (while others detested his presence but had no choice but to accept it). Third daughters of fallen lands didn’t have that advantage, of course. She needed a purpose, whereas he could drift on a whim. “I want who ever the people would find peace and contentment in…” But then Iann frowned when he said it. He’d observed Cassandra’s actions, since the High Raj’s death. Although Iann honestly couldn’t fathom that she was behind Sharma’s demise, he did notice her political manoeuvring towards becoming beloved by the people, ingratiated to the Cloverry. He’d been prepared for that possibility. He’d even been planning to offer Cassandra his ally-ship and support. But then he’d heard news that perhaps Miguel had gotten to Cassandra first. And on top of that, Miguel and Ciara were also seen together, heads bent towards each other. “My father’s news always concerns me. That much should be obvious by now,” Iann said, his voice sounding heavy.

“Where I am wanted is usually where I am useful,” Ciara replied in measured tones. Here, she had evidence. Here, she had the capacity to shape a new era of peace, to help Miguel help people (even if that was to Lord Iann’s loss), to forge trade and bring in a new era of prosperity. Bring her family honour. It was selfish, but also kind. His answer was plain and diplomatic, his face as revealing as a thunderstorm. The thought vexed him, as it did her. “I did not mean to diminish your father’s health,” she said softly, and found herself walking closer once more.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Iann said drily. How much reach did Lady Florent have, exactly? She held secrets, that much he’d known for years, ever since the secret she held for him. How likely was she then to help Miguel do what Iann never would: patricide? His father was ailing and weak, but he’d been a good ruler. If Iann was impatient for the man to die, it was only so Iann could rule properly. But he would wait. He wasn’t sure his younger brother would, especially now that the Inquisition was drawing to a close. Iann grew colder, like a Northern sea. He thought of the Inquisitor, likely longing to return to that predictable, unforgiving cold. “Is there something you need from me, my Lady? I’m at your service.”

“Your observation skills perhaps,” Ciara replied, as he became cold and sharper still. Her bones ached - like everyone else, she was tired. She lay asleep at night with guards watching every corner, and since she had soaked her hands in the blood of lord kesley, she could think of nothing but. “Have I done something to offend you, my lord?”

Iann turned to look at her. “Don’t presume to answer my question with questions of your own, Lady of Florent,” Iann replied. “You wear innocence and naivety like a flimsy veil that does nothing to hide your scars.”

Like all men, he snapped and snarled, a rabid dog baring its teeth in warning. Ciara raised an eyebrow, and did not once shift in the breeze. She could not ask him to mind herself, nor threaten him. She had no armies, no true power. Just the servants in the walls. “Perhaps, but my veils suit you well, do they not?”

There was no snap or snarl to his voice. Iann wasn’t behaving rabidly, nor was he baring any figurative teeth in warning. Why would he need to, when their ranking was so distinct and far apart. The Lady heard what she wanted to hear, to justify her own sense of defense. “Answer my question, what do you want.”

That was an order, and Ciara lowered her head just so in respect, although as with all things, it came with a small edge. “It is no great thing, my lord. One of my servants has a daughter who cleans bedrooms in this castle. Lately, she hasn’t heard from her.” Ciara lowered her voice slightly, as she was about to discuss baser things. “Of course, with this many people in so small a space, it is not so surprising. I wondered if perhaps you knew anyone whose tastes leant that way. But do not let me take more of your time if it does not suit you. You have a great deal on your mind.”

A servant? Iann blinked, not expecting any question to do with a servant. He wasn’t stupid of course; he understood that servants could be just as useful as anything else, when it came to information at least. What he had been, was ignorant. Of course - of course a Lady of this Castle who was held in high esteem by the late High Raj, concerned herself with the business of servants. It all fell into place in Iann’s mind now: servants and secrets. “Why would I know anything of the sort. That is gossip, and I don’t think you need to come to me for that sort of illicit gossip,” Iann stated. He stated again, wording it differently yet again. “Ask me what you want to ask me, Lady.”

“I assume you know a great many things, my lord, of whatever may serve you.” Ciara tilted her head, but as she did, the door to the great hall opened, and one of the Rajisthangard stood, staring at her, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “It appears you’ll have to excuse me, your lordship.” Ciara said, with a tone suitable for any nobility interupted by the commonfolk.

“As you wish,” Iann replied, watching her leave, at the cue of a Rajisthangard who’d clearly come to speak to her.

Ssssnek wasss cold. Lossst. Confusssed. It’s bifurcated tongue flickered out over the cold stone of the palace floor, trying to capture a familiar scent, if one existed. It found none.

Scared Lords and Ladies shrieked and scuffled away at the sight of the snake slithering down the corridor.

Ssssnek slithered down the edge of the corridor. It’s tan, slim body was nearly five feet long, and even though it blended well with the stones, it was hard to miss such a creature. It sensed warmth ahead, and the vibrations of… prey? The warmth neared, but it was not prey. The humansss feared ssssnek, so they ran. Ssssnek was glad for thisss. For it had been drained of its venom by the woman, and would need time to replenish it’s stores.

Scared Lords and Ladies trampled and shoved one another to get away from the terrifying creature slithering the halls. “Help! Help!” their calls echoed down the corridor as they rushed and panicked shoving one another out of the way to try and get ahead down the narrow corridor.

Unsupervised NPC child was nearly trampled as the crowd of adults ran by. He thought it a game however, and turned to follow. Until he saw the curious creature moving down the corridor.

Fane heard the commotion coming from one of the corridors and frowned, heading in that direction to investigate the disturbance.

Ssssnek curled up slightly, startled at the shrill cries of the humansss as they ran from it. It nearly struck at them, but they did not come back. After a tense moment, ssssnek loosened itself and moved on.

Scared Lords and Ladies didn’t care if they trampled one another, all they cared was getting away from the snake nor did they care about the little child lost amongst the crowd. Some, thinking to get rid of enemies grabbed tunics and yanked them back to the floor to clamber ahead to survive.

Unsupervised NPC child saw the ssssnek. He smiled. His father had a book that showed drawings of them, and the boy had been fascinated since the first time he sat on his father’s knee and learned their names. But his father had never seen a serpent in his whole life. Not a real one. Perhaps he could capture this one and take it to him.

Fane seeing the rush of people coming out of one of the hallways frowned, gesturing for a couple of the guards who followed at his heel to come with him. He let some of the panicking crowds pass until there were less left in the corridor. Only then did he see the child and the ssssnek. “Lad, why don’t you come here,” he called to the child eyeing the reptile warily.

An open door along the corridor took the sssnek’s attention. It lifted it’s head slightly, flicking it’s tongue into the new space. There was warmth here. Warm stonessss… smell of… othersss. It smelled of furwearers. The serpent slid across the threshold, oblivious to the child that was reaching for it.

Unsupervised NPC child wondered why all the grownups were so frightened. He looked back down the corridor at the chaos, glad they had passed him over to run away. They always thought they knew better. But he knew about serpents. Books made you intelligent, after all. That’s what his father said. so intent was he on his quarry, that he did not see the Inquisitor as he reached for the tail of the serpent, who’s attention was on something or someone in the room (who the child also did not see), and wrapped his hand around it…

Scared Lords and Ladies continued to panic and scream into the rest of the castle their cries and wails echoing in their wake.

Fane seeing the child go to reach for the tail of the snake didn’t hesitate, he launched into a sprint stooping to catch the child under the arms and heft him out of the way before he could be bit.

Unsupervised NPC child made a sound of protest as he was snatched up. The serpent jerked it’s tail briefly as the child’s fingers brushed it’s scales, but otherwise did not turn towards him. “My Lord, I nearly had him!” the boy protested. “He was lovely. Did you see him?? And now he’s gone…” The boy sagged. “My father will be so disappointed…”

Ssssnek could feel the vibrations of the still panicking humans. They were timid creatures usually. And if the serpent had been capable of forethought, it might have realized that news of it’s escape would spread like wildfire.

Fane lifted the child out of the way despite his protests, “I know you did lad,” his words were soft but concerned as he drew him away from the serpent “but that there’s a very dangerous beastie.” He glanced at his guards who were eyeing the serpent warily, “don’t just stand there find a way to contain it, a cage or… box or something.” He carried the child down the corridor, “is your father here in the castle lad?”

But being a serpent, it’s only thoughts were of finding somewhere warm to hide, and perhaps a meal of mice. But it could not eat if it was cold. Though the smell of furbearers was strong. It slipped slowly through the room, among crates and tables and baskets, tongue flicking as it followed the scents it had picked up. Soon it had disappeared altogether, into the walls and the crevices of the keep. It would find it’s back out eventually. Perhaps in the night, when things were quiet.

Unsupervised NPC child pouted as he pointed the Lord Savin in the direction of his father and was carried away, serpentless.

#got au #got scene

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toogoodmusic · 5 years ago

Audio

TOO GOOD TUESDAY INTERVIEW: G Flip

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Australian singer, songwriter and all around bad-ass drummer Georgia Flipo better known as G Flip just released her debut album About Us last week. The ten song project chronicles G Flip’s on-and-off again relationship with her current girlfriend. Starting off as a drummer for various other people, G Flip decided to start her own project which began with the release of her debut single, “About You” – a synth and emotional song with big drums incorporated. The song blew up and propelled G Flip’s solo career right off the bat. About Us is just the beginning for this talented artist as she continues an impressive festival circuit inclusive of a fall headlining tour and spot on the Falls Festival line up – which has always been a dream of hers to play. Lucky for Too Good Music, G Flip took some time out of her busy schedule to do an e-mail interview. Check out the full interview below to see how she got her start in music, what draws her to the drums, what the most personal song off the album is and so much more:

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TOO GOOD MUSIC: Starting from the beginning – what’s your earliest memory of music? When did you know you wanted to pursue it as a career?

G FLIP: When I was 3 years old my family went to a Christmas party in the park. There was a local band set up playing some classic tunes on a little stage. I had just been gifted a children's sized play guitar and happened to have it in the car. I asked Dad to go get it from the car for me. He came back with the guitar, gave it to me and I took it without a word and walked directly onto the stage. I stood alongside the band without saying a word to them and strummed away, bopping along to the songs they were playing whilst I pretended to play along with them for every single song. It was my late Poppy's proudest moment of me.

Source: G Flip | Photo Credit: Reuben Moore

TGM: Ha! that’s a great story. So you went from crashing sets on stage to a debut album - congrats on, About Us by the way - it’s been a while since I fell in love with an album...it’s an incredible debut. What’s the meaning behind the name of the album? What can fans expect off this album that is similar or different to previous releases?

GF: Why thank you!! The meaning is quite straightforward actually. Most of the songs were written about my on and off relationship with my girlfriend. I hadn’t seen her in a year back in 2017 and when we caught up she asked me, “Are you still playing drums, who are you playing for now?” And I told her, I’ve decided to go solo I’m no longer drumming for people anymore and I’ve made a heap of tracks in my bedroom studio. She was inquisitive and wanted to hear the tracks, I was very reluctant as every song was about us. So it felt fitting to just call it that, About Us.

TGM: I agree - sounds fitting! Which song on the album are you most excited for fans to hear? Which one was the most personal to release?

GF: I'm super excited for my fans to hear “2 Million.” It’s by far my fave tune on the record. After “About You” blew up, my world expanded from my bedroom to the world and my life started drastically changing. So this song follows a timeline of my life from when I got my first guitar, to (hopefully) buying my first home, to falling in love, getting married, growing old until I pass away and all that’s left is the stories I told on earth through my music. It’s trippy to think that, as songwriters even when we are gone we have left stories behind on earth.

Source: Facebook

TGM: I always think about that quote that goes “You die twice in this life: one time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.” It’s really crazy to think about what we leave behind and can outlive us. In that same vein what song(s) have inspired you the most throughout your career?

GF: There aren't really any particular songs that have inspired me to do what I do, but there’s definitely bands and artists that I have listened to my whole life.

The Rolling Stones, Joan Jett, The Clash, Rancid, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, Usher, Beyonce, Paramore, Florence + the Machine, The Internet, Rihanna, Miguel, D’Angelo, N*E*R*D, Hozier, Bon Iver, Justin Timberlake, Benee, Joji, Stevie Wonder, Kanye West, Blink 182, Elliphant, HAIM, Jamie T, Jeff Buckley, No Doubt, Linkin Park, Dave Brubeck, Bill Evans, Leon Bridges, Dominic Fike, Lizzo, The Teskey Brothers, Frank Ocean, Matt Corby etc.

TGM: Great list. What’s been the best piece of advice – music, life or otherwise – that you’ve gotten?

GF: I once read this quote that said “Create the things you wish existed” it has stuck with me ever since.

Source: G Flip | Photo Credit: Reuben Moore

TGM: That’s a great quote and think a great mindset to have while creating art. Shifting gears a bit, you recently played Lollapalooza in Chicago as well as some additional festivals and have an Australian tour set for the fall. What’s a G Flip show like? What’s your favorite part of taking your music on the road? What’s the most difficult?

GF: There’s a lot of drums and drums solo’s. It’s high energy and when I’m not behind the kit I’ll be running around jumping. Me and my 2 best mates that I play with on stage switch instruments every song, so i'll be on keys, then on bass, guitar, drums or just with the mic.

TGM: Speaking of music festivals, I just saw your story where you posted a video from 2017 explaining how cool it would be to play Falls Festival and you recently announced that you are! What does that mean for you and what do you have planned to make it a special show?

GF: Still pinching myself about this one! Falls has been a festival that growing up my friends always went to. It was a yearly highlight and despite spending almost all of my income on musical equipment, I did finally get to go Falls Festival in 2012. Fast forward 7 years and I'll be playing there and I'm so psyched! That's a cheeky question, I don't want to give anything away! But I do have some fun, high energy additions to the live show You'll have to wait and see.

Source: Facebook

TGM: I’m sure the fans will be ready and I’m sure there will a lot of drums! What is it about drums that you’re so drawn to?

GF: The drums are so fierce, loud and fun. You’re literally hitting things with wooden sticks, what a sick concept.

The amount of groove and rhythm you can create using all your limbs is pretty cool too.

TGM: If you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life who would they be?

GF: This definitely changes every month...

1. The Rolling Stones

2. HAIM

3. Bob Marley

4. Florence + the Machine

5. Frank Ocean

TGM: What does the rest of 2019 look like for you?

GF: I'm psyched to be doing an album tour around Australia in November. I'm playing at Sound On Festival in Perth, Triple J One Night Stand in Lucindale and Spilt Milk Festival in Ballarat and Canberra with some of my favourite bands. As you mentioned I'll be bringing in the new year playing at Falls Festival! So it’s gonna be busy. Hopefully I get a week off somewhere to take the Mrs. somewhere on a getaway too.

TGM: Here’s hoping you get that week off with the Mrs. at some point but enjoy the rest of the year and congrats on the debut album!

Source: Facebook

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A HUGE shout-out to G Flip for taking the time out of her extremely busy schedule to answer some questions with Too Good Music. Keep up with her exciting fall by following along with the below links:

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u2-gibeyourselfahue · 6 years ago

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Who The Fuck Is This?

(If you want to skip the BS, my best guess as to his identity is at the bottom)

While reading The Renaissance At War by Thomas Arnold, I came across a nice piece of artwork depicting part of The Battle of Pavia (1525). Image attribution seems to suggest it came from AKG Endpaper.

Sounds good, let’s have a gander.

Found this after navigating a shit load of redirects. The description is a bit misleading, as one may be led to believe this armored gentleman to be Francis I. The full image (which is apparently part of a multi-piece tapestry set by an artist named Bernard Van Orley) is actually included in Arnold’s book and identifies another as the French king. It’s possible that the individual above (henceforth known as WHOAREYOU) is someone else. Perhaps the ‘Neapolitan Viceroy’? Okay, so who the fuck is that?

Here is another picture from the book, which is a snapshot of the battle. The style reminds me of some of Martin Dougherty’s stuff, which is pretty cool. (Also, please excuse the shitty camera quality)

It’s difficult to see, but all named figures are supposed to be shown in blue, with the exception of ‘De Vasto’ in the middle, who is part of the Imperial forces in red. It seems as though this fellow must be pretty important to be singled out this way.

I’ve another book here, Paolo Giovio by T.C. Price Zimmermann which suggests that De Vasto is a man by the name of Alfonso (whose wife spent time with the eponymous Giovio). Alfonso is related to Francisco Fernando, Marquis of Pescara. This is relevant, because in Michael Edward Mallett and Christine Shaw’s book, The Italian Wars, 1494–1559: War, State and Society in Early Modern Europe, the following is given regarding the Battle of Pavia:

“This has often been presented as a battle commanded by Pescara, and much of the credit for the victory has been given to his planning and his deployment of the arquebusiers. He claimed it was his idea to attack through the park. The contemporary historian Giovio said that Pescara had been given overall command of the army but imperial sources made no mention of this, although Pescara was singled out for praise for his valour and energy. In the field, Bourbon and Lannoy had taken the most honourable positions in command of the cavalry.“ (Mallett and Shaw, 152)

Note that line about Giovio. Zimmermann says something relevant about this:

“Giovio personally interviewed many of the surviving participants, including Francis I, but achieved vividness and clarity by holding for the most part to Pescara’s contemporary account of the battle to Charles V.“ (Zimmermann, 74)

There’s an annotation attached to this:

“On the interviews with Francis I (at Marseilles in 1533 and again at Nice in 1538) see Vita del Pescara (1931), 435. Sir Charles Oman called Giovio’s account of Pavia the most detailed (The Art of War in the Sixteenth Century, 186–206). For Pescara’s letter to Charles V see M. F. Navarrete, M. Salvá, and P. S. deBaranda, eds., Collección de documentos inéditos para la historia España 38 (1861), 408–12?

It’s possible that Pescara held principle command. This link I found (couldn’t find the book it’s based off of, but I like De Re Militari, so I’m willing to believe them) seems to corroborate this somewhat, as it calls Pescara the ‘chief of the emperor's host’

(http://www.deremilitari.org/RESOURCES/SOURCES/pavia.htm

Last part of the annotation:

“For eyewitness sources Giovio also had del Vasto and Giambattista Castaldo, who took Francis I prisoner.”

So, all this to say that De Vasto -might- be WHOAREYOU, while Pescara is running overall command...

...until you get to this:

“Although the d’Avalos were in origin a Spanish family, Pescara himself had been born in Italy, and his title was a Neapolitan one.” (Zimmermann, 76)

Great, does that mean that Pescara is the Neapolitan viceroy (and therefore WHOAREYOU) or is this ‘title’ not necessarily related.

Moreover, there’s also the idea that just because AKG says that the viceroy accepted the surrender, that does not mean it has any bearing to the actual scene of what was going on with Francis. It may have been a broad and not strictly related summary. Hell, who knows what kind of biases and reformats went into the original accounts to begin with. This is starting to feel like an Ouroboros of bullshit.

“The large number of conflicting and often self-serving contemporary accounts makes the battle of Pavia difficult to reconstruct in congruent detail.“ (Zimmermann, 84)

You’re fucking telling me.

Let’s take a break and see if Wikipedia is going to be of any help in the matter.

Where the hell did all these people come from?

Okay, we know some of these people already (mostly Fernando and Alfonso). I took another crappy photo of Arnold’s book which elaborates a bit on Bourbon.

I already mentioned Bourbon in the quote about the cavalry, along with Lannoy. More about the latter is contained here:

“The imperial army was strengthened by the arrival in late December of the new viceroy of Naples, Charles de Lannoy, and Pescara, bringing troops from Naples.” (Mallett and Shaw, 147)

Aha, ‘Viceroy of Naples’. So perhaps Lannoy is our mysterious WHOAREYOU (let’s just assume the AKG image is portraying the viceroy, for my own sanity)

What does his wiki page say?

We’re off to a good start.

Fortunately, we actually do have some sources. Here’s a bit in Correspondence of the Emperor Charles V. and his ambassadors at the courts of England and France : from the original letters in the imperial family archives at Vienna; with a connecting narrative and biographical notices of the Emperor and of some of the most distinguished officers of his army and household; together with the Emperor's itinerary from 1519-1551, the title of which is going to be longer than the actual content:

“CHARLES DE LANNOY VICEROY OF NAPLES TO THE EMPEROR Villa Franca 10th of June 1525? (118)

I think we can do a little better than that.

There’s a reference to this in La corte de Carlos V by José Martínez Millán. I found an archive of it (https://repositorio.uam.es/xmlui/handle/10486/742) so let’s check it out.

Nice, it’s partitioned into a bunch of different pdfs, that’s just fucking wonderful.

The part we care about comes from CAPITULO6, pages 233-234 :

“Por su parte, Charles de Lannoy enviado a Ñapóles, había dejado su lugar al frente de la caballeriza a Cesare Ferramosca.”

Yeah, I don’t really speak Spanish. Let’s just run it through an online translator:

“For his part, Charles de Lannoy sent to Naples, had left his place in front of the stable to Cesare Ferramosca.”

Sent to Naples, eh? I’m pretty sure we can make an argument that Lannoy is indeed the viceroy we’re looking for.

The wiki page of the battle proper also has this to say: “The exact nature of Francis's surrender—in particular, who exactly had taken him prisoner—is uncertain, with a variety of candidates ranging from Alonso Pita da Veiga, Juan de Urbieta and Diego Dávila to Lannoy himself being put forward by various historians.“

WHOAREYOU could be any of these people as well, though Lannoy so far has the best argument for it (Again, for my sanity, let’s just assume the artwork is depicting the viceroy). Unrelatedly, Diego there doesn’t even have a wikipedia page. Here’s a reference to him in Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, Volume 38, page 391, which talks a bit about events that took place after Francis was unhorsed:

The text becomes corrupted when I try to copy this, but the rough translation looks like:

“Then he came to where the king was another Darmas man from Granada called Diego de Avila, who, as the king saw on the ground with such trappings, went to him to surrender the king told him who he was and that he was surrendered to the emperor and asking him If he had given Gaje M, he told him that Diego de Avil was not asked and he gave him the rapier that he had brought with him, and a mitten and decked Diego de Avila worked to get him under the horse And in this there came another man from Galicia. called Pita which helped him to raise and took to the king the badge that of Saut Miguel to the neck it brought in a chain that is the order of the cavalry of France and tie it as those of the emperor the Tuson For this the king offered him to give him six mili duked but he did not want them but bring it to the emperor While the King of France was standing, some arcabuceros soldiers came to the party, who, not conning him, wanted to kill him because they did not believe the They told him that he was the king and without them they could not save his life if Monsignor de la Mota, a great and great friend of the Duke of Borbon, who had walked with him and disarmed him, had not come to that place. saw the contest that there they had...“

More importantly, on page 394 and 395, mention is made of a number of key imperial figures and their interaction with Francis:

It names the Marquis of Pescara, Monsignor de la Mota, the Duke of Bourbon, the Marquis of Vasto, and the Viceroy of Naples.

Now, since the text is FUBAR, it’s difficult for me to pinpoint when this event took place. It’s possible that this took place far later than the initial capture of Francis. That said, it does at least support the idea that Lannoy, at some point, did have an interaction with the king.

Here is another excerpt from page 411-412. If I’m understanding this correctly, this one comes to us courtesy of Pescara himself:

He seems to be talking about specific maneuvers. Of worth to us is the reference to the ‘Viceroy’ and his participation.

The wiki page makes a fuckton of references to Angus Konstam’s Pavia 1525: The Climax of the Italian Wars. Let’s take a quick look.

Of immediate note is this image (as illustrated by Graham Turner):

Aha MK2. This looks familiar. It seems that Konstam and Arnold may have been working off the same sources (probably Oman as the main one, or whatever he was working off of). This would explain why the initial image only contained De Vasto’s name. Here, we see one of the earlier manuevers where De Vasto played a key part in securing Castello Mirabello with his detachment of arquebusiers. Since Arnold’s book was probably providing a broader overview, it only used one moment from the battle.

Later on, we see this unfold:

Bourbon, Pescara, and Georg von Frundsberg (and De Vasto, though he’s not explicitly named) seem to have caught Francis in a bit of a trap. More important than that, however, it that we actually have a map that names all of them. Note Frundsberg’s position. The text states that he was engaging the ‘Black Band’.

The book also goes on to say this:

“In the middle of this carnage the king apparently fought well, until his horse was brought down and he was surrounded by arquebusiers armed with daggers. Lannoy, who by then had returned to the scene, is reputed to have ridden into the fray and rescued the king, defending him at sword point from his own men. French sources disagree, and a number of people claimed the glory of capturing the king. Whatever the situation, Lannoy was on hand to extricate the king and accompany him to the rear, escorted by files of Neapolitan arquebusiers (probably part of De Vasto’s force).” (Konstam, 73)

Even though there’s some dispute here, it’s likely that Lannoy was at least somewhat near the proceedings.

Thus far, I’ve been avoiding the most obvious piece of this puzzle, which is the tapestry itself. After all, despite what may or may not have happened, in some ways, the tapestry tells its own story, as Van Orley may have had specific people in mind when he created it. Or he may have even elevated certain key figures above others, depending on his own preferences.

RIHA journal gives a superb treatment of the tapestry and it’s associated events here: (https://www.riha-journal.org/articles/2014/2014-oct-dec/paredes-battle-of-pavia)

Down at the bottom, we have this tidbit:

“Most of these commanders are portrayed and identified by inscriptions in the tapestries “

I don’t have these inscriptions, but Thomas Campbell talks a bit about the art in Tapestry and the Renaissance Art and Magnificence

“Description of the Drawing: The preparatory drawing for the Surrender of King Francis...illustrates the key episode in the battle and closely anticipates the structure and appearance of the tapestry (fig. 147). The strongly centralized composition, with the three horsemen looking directly out of the scene, is unique within the series, indicating that it was probably the centerpiece of the whole set. Many of the figures are portraits and some can be identified from the woven inscriptions on the tapestry itself. To the left, King Francis I is helped from his dying horse by Count Nicolas von Salm, commander of the German cavalry. He is assisted by La Motte de Noyers, captain of the Bourbon cavalry, who fought on the imperial side, and the count of Monmartin. Farther to the left, under the imperial banner...the imperial commander Charles de Lannoy climbs from his horse” (Campbell, 322)

There we have it.

Given how I cannot seem to locate the inscriptions myself, I’m willing to accept the idea that Lannoy is indeed the one we’re looking for. Later on, Campbell adds this:

“Artist: The tapestries were designed by Bernaert van Orley, court painter to Margaret of Austria and later to Mary of Hungary” (Campbell, 328)

If Van Orley is in the employ of the Hapsburg house, I think it’s safe to assume that, barring some strange circumstances I’m not aware of, he wouldn’t have too much reason to intentionally change events as they had unfolded.

I think by this point, we can make a fairly strong argument that Lannoy was the Neapolitan viceroy, was involved in the battle, and is the figure depicted in Van Orley’s tapestry, meaning he is WHOAREYOU. I’d like to cross reference Oman’s book and also check on Frundberg’s accounts to be safe, which I might do if I revisit this post again.

tl;dr I’m pretty sure it’s Charles de Lannoy

(As an interesting tidbit, Campbell mentions that the tapestry set eventually found its way into Pescara’s possesion, which is a pleasant way of tying everything back to where it started, from my point of view at least)

#pavia #francis i #renaissance

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