#like i was allowed access to the same shit mostly. not a free man still but yknow

[bombz-n-bluntz]

Man when I came back from talon i was desperate to officially be part of overwatch

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

[angelasscribbles]

Who Said Anything About Divorce (A Bad Romance AU)

Series: What If

Original Series: Bad Romance

More: Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for chapter: Riley x Liam (mostly)

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Lemons

Word Count: 2,475

A/N: @dcbbw asked WHAT IF Bad Romance Liam divorced Riley. I said I don't know if they would ever actually stay apart forever. We talked about it and what follows is what came out.

A/N2: In this version, Liam never offered to tear up the marriage contract (so Riley never agreed to marry him of her own free will), Drake is far more confident about his place in her life (see the Rewrite of Repercussions.) These things combined would leave Liam the one feeling less than confident about his place in her life and continue the toxic dynamic between them that we saw in chapter one of Bad Romance.

My other stuff: Master List.

“God damn it, Riley! The terms of the contract are clear! You will be in my bed tonight!”

“Oh, well, we’ll see about that!”

“What does that even mean?” Liam was beyond frustrated. While Riley generally complied with the terms of the amended contract, there was very little he could do about it when she didn’t.

Noncompliance was grounds to terminate the contract, something he wasn’t prepared to do. Not yet anyway. But all she did was push.

“I have been in our rooms five out the last six nights, Liam!” She stomped her foot. He bit down his lip. He still found her anger arousing.

“The contract clearly says six nights a week, Riley and you weren’t here Monday night.”

“Because I wasn’t home! I was in Portavira dealing with shit and you know it!”

It was a point of contention between them and not for the first time. The contract stated that they would sleep in the same room six nights out of every week anytime they were both under the same roof. The problem arose when she was absent for one or more days out of that week.

Riley insisted she should still be allowed one night per week while she was home to spend the night elsewhere. Elsewhere meaning Drake’s room. Liam was insistent that her nights away from home counted as her night away and the balance should be spent in their shared quarters. Drake had been with her in Portavira, he’d already spent a night with her. This was just her trying to exploit a loophole so she could spend more time with Drake.

Fucking Drake. She already spent almost every day with him. All day, every day, he was there, by her side. As head of her security detail. A valid, socially acceptable reason for him to be there. It rankled. Liam had tried to talk Riley out of making him head of the queen’s guard, but of fucking course she hadn’t listened.

She’d tricked him in the negotiations. He had stalled at the provision allowing her to have full control over her own staff, but even in their argument, she’d never mentioned Drake’s name and he hadn’t seen it coming.

“I have control over my own staff.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if I want to hire Maxwell Beaumont as an advisor, I can. You won’t interfere with decisions that pertain to my personal staff.”

“Riley,” his voice was tight, “You ask too much, you go too far.”

“Agree to all of it and I’ll pick a wedding date.”

She’d known that was one of his biggest sticking points. She’d also known that throwing out the offer of a wedding date would break his resolve. Because as much as he had hated the idea of Max having twenty-four seven access to her, he’d never seen Max as a real threat and was willing to tolerate it in exchange for getting an actual date locked in. So, he had crumbled, like she’d known he would.

She had known damn good and well that if he’d had an inkling about her plans for Drake, he would have never agreed to that stipulation. And the only reason he hadn’t thought it through was that he’d been distracted worrying about the wrong man. She’d done it on purpose, he knew it. She’d thrown Max out there to argue about as a brilliant bit of misdirection.

That was the thing about her. She was ingenious and devious and trying to stay a step ahead of her was almost impossible. It frustrated and annoyed him. It aggravated and enraged him. But it also challenged and excited him in a way that he was sure he shouldn’t like, but he did. It certainly kept life interesting.

A frustrated whine escaped his lips as he pulled his suit jacket on, “I have to go, I have a council meeting in ten minutes. You will be in this room tonight when I get back, or there will be consequences.”

“Ohhh, consequences!” She mocked him.

He clamped his lips together and ignored her.

That evening….

Liam returned to an empty room. He had the palace searched, but she wasn’t in it.

Fifty two miles away, Riley's phone lit up.

He stared at his phone in disbelief.

Fuck this. He was done. This was too much, too far. Did she not realize that he had other options? He could be with literally any woman he wanted.

He only wanted her.

He could divorce her ass and replace her, in a heartbeat. Women would be lining up to take her place.

No one else belonged by his side.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that pooled in the corners. Tears borne of anger and frustration, not sadness. He was angry, he was furious, he would show her what she was missing.

A week later…..

Liam sat reading the afternoon news with glee.

“King Liam escorted socialite Jasmine Dior to the Green Apple Gala. The queen hasn’t been at the palace in a week. Is there trouble in paradise?”

He vibrated with satisfaction as his phone notification dinged.

In the living room at Valtoria, Riley had just smashed a vase and ran all the servants out. She furiously typed into her phone.

All of his good mood had evaporated. She stopped responding to his texts and wouldn’t answer his calls. Fuck. Perhaps Jasmine had been a miscalculation. What the hell was she going to do?

Five days later….

“Your Majesty, is everything ok?” The maid looked terrified.

The king looked up with a glower, “I said get out!”

The woman yelped and ducked as a heavy leaded crystal tumbler whizzed past her head. She ran out of the room. He was in a mood. She warned the rest of the staff to steer clear.

He scrolled angrily through his phone. The headlines were bad enough.

“Queen steps out with young viscount, eight years her junior!”

“Queen spotted out in public with one of Cordonia’s hottest young bachelors.”

“Is Queen Riley smitten with the viscount of Dramerly?”

“Queen Riley was spotted on the arm of Viscount Blake Remington for the third night in a row!”

But the pictures were worse. There far too many of them, they were far too close in most of them. The young viscount looked far too enamored of his wife in all of them.

Weren’t Max and Drake and Rashad enough for her? No, she was punishing him for Jasmine, and he should have seen it coming.

“Fuck! Goddamn it!” He sent everything from the desk tumbling to the floor.

He pulled out his phone and started texting.

Well, fuck. While he was letting her jerk him around over fucking Blake Remington, Drake was solidifying his place by her side. It was the marriage contract negotiations all over again. She had him tied up in knots worrying about the wrong man. Again.

He knew what he had to do.

Two days later….

Drake opened the door at Valtoria to find Liam standing there, hands clasped in front of him, his best diplomatic smile pasted on his face. Drake’s eyes went behind Liam to Bastien, struggling with far more suitcases than one man could possibly carry. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What are you doing here?”

“Joining my wife, what does it look like?” Liam pushed past Drake and into the entry hall, “Where is she?”

“I’m not sure she wants to see you.”

“I’m not interested in your opinion, Drake.”

“It’s not an opinion, it’s-“

“Liam!” Max squealed as he threw himself into the king’s arms.

“Max.” Liam felt some of his annoyance leave him as he returned his lover’s embrace. “Where is she?”

“Oh! Come on, I’ll take you!” Max grabbed Liam’s hand and drug him through the estate leaving Drake standing in the entryway shaking his head.

Max ushered Liam into Riley’s study. She looked up from her desk and an expression of victory mingled with a savage satisfaction flashed through her eyes as she regarded him. He noted the slight dimpling at the corners of her mouth that gave away the smile she was repressing, and vindication spooled through him. He had been right. Blake Remington had been a ploy, a strategy to compel him to her side. She wanted a reaction out of him. She liked it when he got jealous and possessive, when he had to remind her of who she belonged to.

“Get out, Max.” Liam didn’t bother to look behind him as he stalked toward the desk, loosening his tie.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but-“

“Shut up.” He said it calmly, quietly, but there was nothing calm about the storm raging in his eyes as he bent, grasped her by the arm and pulled her unceremoniously from her chair.

She tipped her head back with a defiant smirk, “What are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

Without releasing her arm, he spun so that they traded positions. He sat in the chair she had just vacated and pulled her down so that she was laying across his lap. He shoved her short skit up and yanked her panties down, ripping them from her body.

“This.” He told her as he brought his hand down to smack the bare skin of her voluptuous bottom. His erection sprang to life as the thwack reverberated throughout the room and his palm made contact with the smooth, silky skin of her plump, rounded ass.

An outraged yelp issued out of her as a satisfying red blotch spread across her cheeks. He delivered several more quick smacks, her squirming and wriggling only serving to push his desire higher as her body rubbed against him.

He stood abruptly, his arms pulling her up the only thing stopping her from toppling to the floor as she slid out of his lap.  

She whirled on him in fury, delivering a resounding slap to his face. The sharp sting of her palm on his cheek sent white hot desire shooting through him.

Her fists began pummeling his chest. Her face was red, she cursed him soundly. He felt his desire coil even tighter. Her anger still ignited a rapacious hunger in him. Two weeks of absence stoked his need even higher.

He reached for her and jerked her body forward, crashing his lips into hers. She stiffened, the blows raining down on him stopped. He pressed himself closer and she melted into him. The tension left her body, her lips parted allowing his tongue access. A hand tangled in his hair as a leg looped around his waist.  

His hands traveled across her body, fingers pressing into her ass, palms squeezing her breasts, fingers pinching at her nipples. His mouth followed suit, tongue and lips caressing her, gliding over her jaw, her neck, her chest.

He pulled the clothes from her body without regard for the delicate material. Let it rip. He didn’t care.  

When she was naked, he spun her around and bent her over the desk. He unzipped his pants and stroked himself with one hand while the other gathered a handful of her hair. He leaned over, his torso pressing against her back and put his mouth to her ear, “Say please.”

“Fuck you!” She spat at him, but she made no effort to move out from under him.

He tightened his grip on her hair as he teased her entrance, running the tip around the outside of it. “You have to say it.”

One hand curled into a fist and pounded the top of the desk as she pushed herself up toward him with a frustrated whine.

He pulled back.

“Goddamn it! Just fucking do it!” She demanded. “Please!”

That was all it took. He slammed himself into her and set a brutal pace. His fingers slipped between her legs to circle her clit. She couldn’t decide between pressing herself into his hand or pushing herself back to deepen his thrusts.

His fingers twirled and danced at her core until she exploded, hot liquid squirting out and covering his dick.

“Jesus, Riley, fuck!” He followed right behind her. He shoved himself into her as deep as he could go as he erupted inside her, wave after wave of pleasure cresting through him.

As he pulled out and stepped away, she turned and sat up to yell at him, “This doesn’t change a goddamned thing!”

Liam smiled at her as he adjusted things and pulled his zipper up, “Tell yourself whatever you want my queen, you’re mine and we both fucking know it.”

The next few days followed a predictable pattern. She raged at him, she ignored him, she provoked him, she let him throw her up against the wall or over a desk and fuck the attitude out of her.

The staff scattered whenever they were in the same room together, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of their explosive fights.

Max tried to play peacemaker and Drake made snarky comments to throw fuel on the fire.

Finally, even Drake had enough. It wasn’t amusing anymore; it was annoying and disruptive and stupid. “Jesus fucking Christ! Why don’t you two just get the divorce already?”

Liam and Riley froze. Both heads turned to stare at him then back to stare at each other.

“Who said anything about divorce?” Riley asked.

“Yeah, what are you talking about, man?” Liam shot him an annoyed look.

Drake’s head swung back and forth between them, “What am I talking about? The two of you at each other’s throats! All you’ve done since you got here is fucking fight!”

“What’s your point?” Liam asked him disdainfully.

“Both of you have been running around with other people in public, the press is having a fucking field day! You’re destroying your public imagine and for what? You’re not required to stay married. Just get the fucking divorce already!”

“We’re not getting divorced,” Liam scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, that’s not entirely up to you, is it?” Drake rocked back on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets, victory positively radiating off him, “If she wants to be together and work this shit out, what the hell are we all doing here? Riley should be at the palace, but she’s not, is she?”

Riley and Liam locked gazes again. For the space of three heartbeats, no one moved, no one spoke.

“I’ll have the car brought around.” Liam said.

“I’ll go pack my stuff.” She replied.

They both turned to leave the room, Riley heading upstairs to pack, Liam heading out to the front hallway to locate Bastien and have the car brought around.

Drake’s mouth fell open, “But-“

Liam slapped him on the back of the shoulders on his way out, “Thanks, buddy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

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Bad Romance:

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[tenskittens]

Not Enough - Part III.

Part 3

Warnings: Smut, threesome, john x ten x y/n, ass play, john x ten sex, fingering, dominance, cum (everywhere, ew), angst.

Words: 2.8k.

Read part 1 & part 2 first!

It’s been a week since you contemplated changing things in your relationship. As of now, nothing has changed. In fact, things have been sort of chaotic in the NCIT house this past week - you’ve been mostly hanging out with Jaehyun working on a coding assignment you were set over the summer. Ten went away for a couple of days - he said he just wanted to spend more time with his other close friends in the WayV house, who you were all pretty close with, but you suspect he also needed a bit of time away from you and Johnny. And Johnny - well, he’d been pretty distant too, and that hurt the most. You usually spend your rare moments of free time hanging out with him, snuggling on the sofa snacking on popcorn and crisps, having a low-key smoke and binging FRIENDS or comedy movies. This week, though, he hasn’t been here as much for you - in fact, you’ve probably spent more time with Jae, even Doyoung and possibly even Jaemin and the other freshers, than you have with Johnny or Ten.

“Ah, shit, watch it! Fucking arsehole” you yell as you walk directly into your boyfriend and drop your freshly-popped corn all over the floor. “The fuck, y/n, it was an accident. Chill.”

Johnny looks at you with genuine hurt, and you’re sort of embarrassed by the way you snapped. You didn’t want him to know that you weren’t feeling great about the whole ‘being abandoned for the whole week to stress about your work with Jae whilst your boyfriend and best friend fuck of and have fun’ situation.

You are pissed off. But you remember what you’re wearing - the little pair of shorts that perfectly hug your arse, and your hair tied back just how Johnny loves it. So you bend down to scramble and pick up the popcorn from the floor, ignoring Johnny but moving yourself in such a way that you’d gain his attention. Johnny watches you from his distance, and your plan begins to work - he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you bent over on the kitchen floor. Your silence was only turning him on more - he had no idea what to say, and felt at your mercy in that very moment - an unusual feeling for someone who was the dominant one in most scenarios. You stand back up after scraping together most of the popcorn. You stand slowly, looking Johnny up and down as you do, pausing to focus on how the veins in his arms have started to show - a tell-tale sign that he must be horny for you, despite not talking to you all week.

“So?” you ask him, a stubborn and demanding tone in your voice. You’re still pissed off - he literally hasn’t spoken to you about anything, leaving you in the dark about what the plan was and forcing you to seek comfort in Jae because he wasn’t there to hang out while you’d been stressed. Anyway, fuck all of that, you think to yourself. You firmly place the popcorn tub onto the countertop next to you and cock your head slightly, looking at Johnny’s face this time, but avoiding eye contact.

“So, are you going to like… tell me what’s going on?” you ask, frustrated now, trying to hide your emotional vulnerability by holding yourself in a powerful stance, sitting into your hip and casually leaning back into the countertop. You know you look fit, and Johnny knows it, too.

He sighs, now too turned on to even play his little game of piss y/n enough to get her to start the conversation first. He practically launches himself on you, keeping you pressed against the counter top and using his knee to hold your torso firmly in place. He locks his hand into yours and holds it firmly, too. You’re suddenly well and truly held down by John Suh, at his complete mercy and most-definitely not able to escape from his grasp.

“Y/n, Ten’s in my room literally right now. We’ve been waiting for you to break the silence because we thought you were the one mad with us. We thought you didn’t want to talk to us, so, we just sort of left you some space... for a bit...”. His voice is low, frustrated and tense.

Why was he being like this? He sounds genuinely annoyed, yet he’s acting like he wants to fuck me right here? And why’s he being so touchy?

“John, I’m literally pissed that you’ve been ignoring me. How are we never on the same page?”

Johnny doesn’t even reply, and you don’t really care. Stood over you, he’s one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid eyes on - you never fail to forget this. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, textured and dark, complimenting the deep brown colour of his irises. His muscle tee reveals his broad shoulders, dressed in a bold, dark tattoo on one side. Nothing about Johnny Suh screams “innocence”. He is dark, intense, experienced, and always ready to show you a good time.

“What I mean, y/n, is that Ten’s waiting for me in my room”.

Oh.

“No problem, Johnny, I’ll be alright down here” you tell him, your voice tight, wondering whether this was an invitation to follow him, or a request for him to leave.

“No, y/n. Come on”. Johnny’s eyes are dark and serious, as they so often are when he’s turned on. You’re suddenly hyper aware that you’re in

a communal space - Jae could easily be slumped in the corner of the room, listening to the tension between you two as he so-often was - but you still don’t want to make nice with Johnny, so you shake him off you and somewhat stomp your way to his room, the man following you closely and quickly.

You barge open his door, pushing your weight onto it, and sitting in a leather armchair, leaning out of the window, is Ten. Shirtless. Oh shit, he’s hot.

“Oh, y/n, sorry fuck- hi” Ten sputters, reaching for something to cover himself up and eventually just wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Baby, you still up for trying this?” Johnny asks. Both you and Ten respond quietly and quickly with a tentative “yes”. .

“Hah, I was talking to Ten, but sure y/n I know you’re okay with it”, responds Johnny sassily, walking past you towards Ten. “Hot”, he assesses, looking at Ten just as he’d looked at you earlier.

Knowing that Johnny was checking him out like that turned Ten on, his cock growing harder under his lazy cargo pants. He hadn’t long been at the gym with Jae and Haechan, and the post work-out effect had left him slightly tired but, visually, incredibly attractive. His abs were tight and defined, even as he was leant over the window frame.

“Heard Ten was really good at fingering when he was dating that girl in first year. Not to make this weird or anything”.

Neither you nor Ten replies to this. So like, does Ten actually want this? I don’t get it, you think to yourself. And, honestly, you don’t know that Ten is only really doing this for Johnny. In the moment, he seems pretty damn into you. He stands tall, despite being the same height as you, shirtless with his hair slightly wet from just having showered, carrying the scent of sandalwood and sweet floral undertones. He moves towards you, and your heart pounds, your hands trembling slightly as you become hot and wet for him... Confidently, the man sits on the edge of the bed, a slightly playful and teasing smile spreading across his lips, and he pulls you by your arm so you end up falling next to him. You’re surprised by the sudden action, causing your heart to race faster.

“Mm, he’s right, you know, I’m pretty fucking good in bed” Ten teases you. You and Ten locked eyes as he placed his hand around your waist and pulled you close to him. He wasn’t sure about this, but he felt a compelling urge to kiss you. Ten feels Johnny place his hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and it gives him the confidence he needs to lean in, chasing for your sweet, tender lips.

As Ten’s lips meet yours, you feel your heart murmuring, beating like it never has before. You take his kiss deep - although it feels sexual and intense, as opposed to passionate and loving. His tongue is greedy, chasing for yours and playing with your lips with gentle nips every so often. Johnny stands behind Ten, softly playing with his long hair, almost reassuring him. You feel Ten move his hands from your waist down to your thigh.

“Well, aren’t you two both such needy and horny, little things” Johnny teases, his voice dark and dominant. “Ten, honey, you know you don’t have to fuck her tonight, but she seems to want more than just a sweet kiss from you”.

Disappointing. Of course you didn’t expect that Ten would actually go all the way with you - although he has been with many girls in the past, you guess he just doesn’t actually enjoy that. But you can feel his fingers dancing up your thigh, altering their pressure as they skip across your crotch, brushing with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers and making their way to your opposite thigh. He is so careful and coordinated with his touch, different to Johnny - more thought-out, almost. Johnny bends down closer to Ten and kisses the back of his neck, whispering to him with a firm tone; “Ten, you need to be rough with her, she’s a dirty slut. You need to rip her panties off and fill her with your fingers and -”. You stop listening to Johnny’s instructions, becoming distracted by your growing wetness, pulsating as you feel the blood rush through your body. All you can feel is how Ten pushes you down onto your back, moving on top of you so he has full access to your delicate, glistening folds. As he does so, Johnny follows, teasing Ten’s upper thighs but not yet removing his cargo pants. “Ten, pleaasee” you beg, slightly moaning when you feel his slightly cold hands work at the button of your trousers, pulling them down awkwardly. You arch your back at the cold, slightly ticklish sensation. The arching is enough to grab Johnny’s attention - “damn, babygirl you’re sensitive tonight, does our slut need more attention?”. You whine in frustration, arching your back again to allow ten to remove your trousers all the way. As Ten does so, Johnny leans over him from behind and grabs his pants and pulls them down - he’s commando, so Johnny immediately grabs his hard, throbbing cock, releasing a moan from the man who is largely preoccupied with you, teasing your clit at a constant, steady pace. Johnny slowly pumps up and down Ten’s cock. “Listen, sweet baby, I want you to make y/n come all over us. I’m going to do to you what I want you to do to her - follow my lead, and you’ll make her come”. You heard that part - fuck, i just want to come, you think to yourself.

Johnny cocks his head. “Sound okay, babies?” he asks you both, receiving two half-confident moans in response. He’s definitely in charge of you both.

Johnny tightens his grip on Ten, prompting him to slip two fingers immediately inside of you, taking you deep without a second thought. It was intense, but so necessary. You respond with a sharp intake of breath, once again arching your back. When Johnny speeds up his movements around Ten’s pulsating member, Ten quickens his pace with you. He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a rushed pace, desperate to bring you to orgasm. Ten was genuinely horny, enjoying playing with you and chasing your upcoming orgasm, and although he had some limits, this wasn’t beyond his boundaries. He was so incredibly attracted to you. Your little, desperate breaths quicken, becoming deeper and longer as Johnny tightens his grip further, slowing down on Ten’s cock, and Ten responds in the same manner. He begins to slowly, but deeply, insert his fingers inside of you, pushing deep and steadily against your G spot.

“She’s actually so beautiful” Ten mutters quietly and breathlessly. Johnny responds, once again quickening his pace on Ten’s cock, planting kisses along his shoulders. This encourages Ten to quicken his pace, using the “come here” motion to hit your g-spot successfully with every repetition he makes. “And she’s such a slut” Ten adds, as you now whine quietly, high-pitched moans leaving you every time he hits your g-spot. He places his lips on yours, swallowing your moans with his deep, warm kiss. His lips are sweet and slightly swollen, making them gentle and exciting enough to continue kissing him, despite how close you were to your oblivion, and how distracting Ten’s fingers were. Johnny finally releases Ten after edging him for way too long - but doesn’t let Ten come just yet. Ten takes this as his cue to focus purely on you, tipping you over the edge. You’re moaning deliriously as Ten slips in a third finger and, with his other hand, wraps around your ass, playing with your sensitive skin around the entrance. Ten’s very good at this - he presses a thumb against your ass, gently but with enough pressure to change the sensation deep inside of you. You feel your pussy tightening, grabbing onto Ten’s slender fingers as he continues desperately chasing your orgasm, waiting patiently for his own. But Johnny is becoming fed up of waiting, so he drops his own pants and presents his cock in front of your mouth. “Work for your orgasm. Be my cumslut” Johnny demands strictly. You take his cock as deep as you can, feeling your pussy tighten as Ten drives you closer to orgasm. You suck Johnny deep and hard, using your tongue how you know he likes it. The sight of Johnny’s cock, dripping and filling your mouth, drives Ten insane. He isn’t even being pleasured, but he, too, feels so close to his orgasm, dripping presum from his tip. You’re still panting and moaning into Johnny’s cock when you finally reach your orgasm. Ten reaches one hand from your ass to Johnny’s, again pressing his finger into Johnny enough to send him over the edge. He explodes into your mouth, causing you to gag and splutter as you immediately come over Ten’s fingers. Your eyes stream with tears as the intensity of your orgasm sweeps through your body, weakening you head-to-toe.

“Y/n, you’re not finished, baby” says Johnny, standing. “Y/n, suck Ten’s cock while I fuck him good”, he tells you. And you do exactly what he says. Johnny is so gentle with Ten - so tender and loving. You can see now, despite your mouth being stuffed with Ten’s dripping, pulsating cock, that the love between these two is different. It’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s inherently sexual but yet so nurturing and tender. What you have with Johnny is fun - but you know you were friends first, friends now, and will always be friends. But you also know that this might be the last time you fuck John Suh as your boyfriend, and you didn’t even actually end up fucking him. The thought saddens you, but it passes quickly as you continue to pleasure Ten whilst sat on your knees. It doesn’t take long before you release him, and he lets his come spill out over your swollen breasts. Just a few moments later, Johnny follows, adding his cum to the sticky mess dripping on you. Johnny leans over you to kiss Ten - and in this kiss, there is so much love. You realise that he has chosen Ten in his moment of vulnerability, not you. But lying there, barely awake and covered in their come, you don’t mind. Ten flashes you a sexy smile as he kisses your belly, covered in Johnny’s come. Johnny pleasures your nipples, cleaning them up with his swollen lips before leaning down to kiss you, and moving back to kiss Ten, forcing him to taste his own mess. “Okok”, you say quickly. “I’m going to wash up in the bathroom”.

Your back is aching, you’re covered in come, and your whole body is weak and trembling from the intensity of working so hard for these two men. And Johnny was right - Ten was very good in bed. But you expected nothing less of the man who is good at everything.

Within 15 minutes, the three of you were asleep in the bed together. And within a few hours, you woke up, noticed how Ten wrapped his leg over Johnny’s, and how Johnny held his arm out for you to lean into. Feeling disgusting and tired, your heart sort of aching, you decided to slip back into your own room. You know you have to leave.

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I didn’t go into full angst detail about the end of the *situation*. There will be a short follow-up sequel, mostly just angst, that will deal with the end of the relationship, just so this story doesn’t end up with no proper resolution. I hope you enjoyed how the situation unfolded, but more importantly - I hope you enjoyed the smut. I’ll be releasing follow-ups set in the NCIT frat house in the future, so please follow and interact!

~tenskittens~

[liddolwhynot2000]

Unprecedented Reactions: Part 2

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Summary: He likes you, scratch that, he's more then half way in love with you. And if you keep this up, he's not sure he can control himself and keep these feeling bottled up for much longer.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: Romance, longing, Soldier!Reader, Levi deserves happiness

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Please read part 1 to understand this better => Unprecedented Reactions

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Growing up in the underground, Levi had learned a very different way to navigate life then normal people did. If you stole a loaf of bread and got caught, you got beat up and starved. If you pick pocketed and didn't get much, you should have picked your target better. If you played nice and thought for anyone but yourself, be prepared to be used and discarded.

When Kenny had left him to fend for himself, Levi had survived on his own just fine. In order to not get caught stealing food, he ran faster. To pick pocket well, his sharp eyes picked out whose pockets had more in them. He didn't make any friends, didn't let anyone join him, so there was never any need to worry about getting stabbed in the back.

Until he met Farlan.

Farlan had been an exception to all his rules, an addition to his life that he hadn't anticipated. Levi had been nervous of course, and not very trusting at the start. But the man had won him over, and secured a soft spot that Levi didn't think his heart even had.

Farlan had not just been his friend, but his brother. The man he only had to look at to ask for a solution to their problems, the man who made jokes that had him hiding smiles, who didn't hesitate a second in defending him from everyone in that hell hole.

He had accepted their brotherhood, feeling a little anxious, but mostly at peace with his decision. And then he had met Isabel.

Sweet, kind Isabel. She had just been a starved, homeless kid when he had found her. His heart hadn't been able to accept the idea of just leaving her there, of walking past her and ignoring her like he forced himself to with all the others. Farlan had only smiled at him when he brought her home and had given her some bread. It had been his way of saying he agreed with Levi's decision.

Since then, they had been a trio. They'd wreak havoc in the underground together, working hard to sustain themselves. Levi, knowing his superior strength, took up more work. He didn't mind it, feeling more safe ensuring their well being with his own hands.

It eventually became a pattern, of leaving it all to him. Sometimes it made him feel pressured, most of the time he pressured them to keep it up. He was too nervous, too scared that he would lose his self made family if he didn't protect them.

His worries hadn't been for nothing, his fears of losing them hadn't been unfounded. Unfortunately, his own actions had been the root cause of it.

If only he hadn't insisted that they believe in him. If only he had kept them close and hadn't gone off on his own. Farlan would be alive right now, and so would Isabel. Had Levi not pushed them to pick, his family would be safe and sound, with him.

Instead, here he was, lying in bed, covered in blankets, and unable to to do anything but mourn.

He would never be the same again, for he would never have his family back. All the positive emotions he had accessed in the years of being with them, had died, leaving behind a shell of a man.

It was like the candle lighting up the room had been shut off by wind. One strong breeze cut off the entire light source, leaving all the darkness in the room what it needed to thrive and spread. Levi didn't think that candle could ever be lit up again, that he could ever experience care for another human being again.

It felt like his heart had been effectively killed.

And that's when he heard the door open.

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He heard you put down the tray, but could tell you hadn't immediately left after. You were still there, staring at him perhaps. Probably ridiculing him for his depression, like he could tell everyone else was.

It ignited a fury in him, an anger he had felt leave his body once he had butchered that titan to pieces. He suddenly wanted to be violent, to destroy everything that crossed his path. Anything that could serve as outlet for his grief. Just as he thought to get out of the blankets and confront whoever had dared to enter his room-he heard the door shut.

Levi sits up, frowning. His hair is all over the place and his uniform direly needed to be cleaned. But he didn't care, he wanted to know why you had dared to enter his room. What gave you the right. He didn't care that you had come to give him food, he just wanted to pick a fight.

Throwing the covers off of him, he ignored the voice in his head that chimed at him to clean his shit up. But he would do that later. Right now, his hands were itching to unleash violence on something. Or rather, someone.

He followed you out, noting that you were a female. His stealth abilities were top notch-a novice like you couldn't even hope to notice him, walking along like nothing was happening.

You paused, and Levi stopped short, thinking he had been found out. He didn't bother to hide himself, after all, he was here to face you. His eyebrows furrowed as he distinctly heard a few male voices chattering.

‘H-Hey did you see that midget from the underground?’

Levi tensed, having a good idea of where this was going. He couldn't help noticing the way you had done the same.

'Yeah. You see the nerve he has, locking himself up in that room like he’s actually mourning. That fucker didn’t even join for the cause.'

He frowned, so what if he hadn't joined the suicidal corps for their cause. Isabel and Farlan had been alive, just like any other person. They had loved and cared for him, and he had done the same for them. Only ungrateful surface dwellers would think he had no right to mourn his friends.

It made his fist clench. You were the furthest thing from his mind now, these men would be the fight he needed ot sate his blood lust.

'Let’s.. Let’s teach that midget a lesson. I bet he’s putting it on. He’s just scum from the underground, he doesn’t even belong here.’

Levi was long accustomed to being called words like that. He fucking hoped they would approach him to 'teach a lesson.' As they all decided they would 'counsel' him on the death of his friends, Levi wanted to laugh. The underground and the surface really did have the same type of scum on it.

Their voices got louder as they approached, and Levi prpeared himself to kick their asses to hell and back-

--Only for you to grab one of the mens arms and smash him against the wall.

Confused, he kept himself out of sight, watching as you took on all three of them. He couldn't understand why you were doing this. Were you like him, frustrated and needing a way to let loose? It made sense, those drunk ass men were good target practice. But he couldn't help feeling that there was more to this.

'Have a little compassion you jerks! He just lost his friends!'

You were defending him? Him? The scum of the underground? Against your precious cormades? Levi could feel the fight in him dying out, being replaced by emotions he had thought that he would never feel again.

'If anyone of you dares to approach him, I swear I'll get the Commander on your asses!'

You were holding one of them in a choke hold, confident that they couldn't overwhelm you.

Levi was in awe of you, watching you lecture and beat up the men that planned on attacking him. The last time someone had defended him like this was Farl-

His breath seized, and he closed his eyes, feeling an abundance of emotions he just couldn't identify. He couldn't word them out, not today.

But he knew he felt grateful to you.

Once he was sure you wouldn't get hurt, he went back to his room. He took the soup and the bread from the tray you had left, and began to eat, allowing himself to not think about anything.

Unbeknownst to him, the candle flickered back on.

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He takes note of you after that, his eyes seeking you out whenever you were in vicinity. He's accepted his role in the corps, his responsibility as a soldier, but he can't help gravitating towards you.

You remind him of Farlan, but it's different. Farlan had wanted to be his friend, but you? You came to his defense, solely out of the kindness of your heart. You want nothing in exchange.

You don't boast about it, don't flaunt it, not to him or anyone else. If Levi hadn't seen you defend him with his own eyes, he would have never found out about it. Those men don't even look in his direction, not after what you did to them.

He feels curious about you, and allows himself to keep you in his radar.

He settles into his job well, climbing the ranks quicker then he thought he would. But Levi is quick to realise why--there just aren't enough people in the Corps. They need him, and if it means having to put aside their reservations about his origins, then so be it.

It makes his day a little better to watch Erwin sweat over keeping him around. He doesn't plan to leave, but it's nice getting a little special treatment. Especially all the free tea he gets.

He doesn't know how to approach you, and even if he did, he has no idea of what to say. Should he tell you he knows what you did? Thank you for it?

He's not used to making friends, so he doesn't know how to be friends with you. Rather, he contends himself with watching you from afar, keeping an eye out for you just in case.

You're a strong, capable soldier, and it brings him a little relief to know that. As his time in the survey Corps piles up, Levi notices how easily some of his comrades get slaughtered. How helpless he is to stop it all.

He selfishly celebrates your safe return from each expedition in his mind.

He can't help noticing you, how kind you are. You put everyone around you at ease, making jokes. He remembers the first time you talked to him, how flustered he had felt afterwards.

'Levi I'm beginning to think the walls were built to protect the titans from you. Not us from them.'

Everyone had laughed, and Levi had felt heat creep up his cheeks at it. It had launched an entire debacle of comrades lauding his strength, one he hadn't been able to shut down. Everyone had been too drunk to be scared of him, and he had been too lost in his thoughts about you to be terrifying enough.

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His following interactions with you are cordial and meaningful at the same time. Ranging from drinking tea together, to practicing with your gear at the same time.

Even though he can't quite explain it, he finds himself making exceptions for you. You're not that good at cleaning, just average, but he doesn't have the heart to scold you for it like with everyone else. He finds himself turning a blind eye to it, blaming your mess on others and letting you off the hook.

It doesn't make much sense on his part, but it happens without him even planning it. There's just something about you that makes him automatically nicer. Levi doesn't question it much, instead opting to simply follow his gut instincts without regrets.

He's too tired of having to think on the battle field, feeling exhausted in his efforts to keep everyone alive. Being around you has a powerful effect on him- for just being your vicinity makes him feel at peace.

Maybe it's because he just misses his friends, and has latched on to you. Or maybe he's too worried about the others still judging his background, thus making him cling to you, the only person he knows doesn't give a damn.

Or maybe it's just that he's very much interested in you- and it's so foreign that he can tell it's not just friendship.

Friendship was when he wanted to help Farlan not die carrying crates that are too heavy for him. He's sure it's not him snatching them away before you even look at them.

Friendship is being okay with his friends talking to other people, not feeling possessive about the low lives who flirt with you. It's certainly not imagining different ways to teach them how to keep their hands to themselves.

Friendship should be being okay with the bare minimum physical affection, not day dreaming being wrapped up in your arms, wondering about how soft they would feel.

He's got a good idea of what he's feeling, but he doesn't have enough nerve to verbalise it. Doesn't have the required courage needed to look you in the eye and say it.

He needs a push, and not the literal one Hange tries to give him everytime she catches him staring at you. He knows he should at least admit what he feels about you in his own mind, but he just can't.

Until he does.

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Ever since he's accepted his position in the survey corps, Levi has made it mission to give it his all. Every order is carried out swiftly, every action is conducted with purpose. He's devoted himself to his job-- no one could link the brash underground thug to the man he is now.

And he likes it that way.

The job isn't easy, of course, especially with all the losses incurred on every expedition. He feels grief for every life lost outside the walls, inwardly chastising himself for not being there, even though he knows its out of his hands.

His hands itch with the urge to do something for his fallen cormades, who gave up their lives to help them succeed. Their young, bright expressions flash in mind, because he was fond of them. He wonders what he can do to honour them, and comes up with two methods.

One, he begins to take their wings of freedom insignia off their dead bodies, keeping them safe and sound for their loved ones. To him, it's proof that they were alive.

Two, he starts making them special graves. It's a laborious task, especially on his own, but he wants to do it. He has to do it, if only to give himself and everyone a way to talk to them, to tell them that they're remembered, even in their deaths.

It's one day he's in the midst of his self assigned mission that you stumble upon him.

He notices you from the corner of his eye, wondering what you think of what's upto. He pretends not to notice the smile you flash his way, knowing that it'll be harder to hold back his blush if he dwells on you too long.

You walk away, and he finds himself slightly dissapointed. He figured you'd at least try to talk to him a little, but shoves his thoughts aside. However he finds himself pleasantly surprised when you return just a few moments later, with a shovel in your hand.

As you flash him a grin and begin to dig as well, he barely manages to take his eyes off of you. Returning to his own task, he finally admits it to himself.

He likes you, scratch that, he's more then half way in love with you. And if you keep this up, he's not sure he can control himself and keep these feeling bottled up for much longer.

He's not sure he can stay away from you for much longer, and a part of him is aching for that time to come.

Now that's he's admitted it to himself, he wonders if he can admit it you.

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The most notable moment he has with you is, unfortunately, when he saves you from a titan. He had hoped that he would never have to see you in this situation, but when has he ever gotten what he hopes for?

He manages to save you in the nick of time, and he's sure he's going to have nightmares about it. You almost falling into a titans mouth, your expression frozen in terror. It's something he'll remember in his darkest moments, a scene right out of his worst fears.

He can't bring himself to keep his distance after saving you, wanting to ensure that you're not injured in anyway. He knows his grip is more delicate then usual, his eyes are more worried then expressionless. But he can't help it.

You mean more to Levi then you think, more then he can even comprehend himself.

He's a little giddy, like a cadet with a crush on his senior, when he finds out your horse isn't there. It means you have to ride on his horse with him, the idea of which makes him feel shy and a little more excited then it should.

You fall asleep on the way back, your head resting on his chest. He doesn't have the heart to wake you up, to the point he sneaks you past everyone in the formation and gently lays you down in the cart. He covers you with his cloak and eyes your peaceful expression, heart sorely wishing for things he's never known he wanted.

There's an urge to brush the strands of hair on your face, he tries to resist it at first but ultimately gives in. His hands are stiff, and he's alert, worried you might wake up. But the moment he manages to brush them aside, he hurriedly moves away from you.

His heart is beating too fast, and he doesn't know how to calm it down.

He's doesn't think he even wants to.

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Dream do come true-especially in Levi's case. He's dreamt of all of his friends dying, and life has served accordingly. Every worst case scenerio that has ever invaded his mind, has the tendency to be brought to life.

It stings really, the injustice of it all. But he knows better then to complain-like always, he makes peace with the situation, and moves on. He refuses to look back and cry, knowing he'll end up in drowning in regrets if he does. He braces himself for the future--likely to be a very dark and bleak one.

He never, in hold widest dreams, expected one of his deeply desired dreams to come true.

He's been digging deep inside himself, trying to find the needed courage to approach you with romantic intentions. To let you know his hearts desires. But so far he's achieved nothing.

So when you approach him one night, eyes unable to look into his own, he's on the edge. He overthinks, expects you to reject him. You probably noticed him pathetically staring at you, and no doubt decided that he needs to be put in his place. He knows he deserves it, after all, what right does a man like him have to even think about someone as pure as you?

He braces himself to be brutally turned down, what he doesn't expect is the words that tumble out of your mouth.

'I.. I'm in l-love with you.'

The words are stuttered, with a red blush spread across your cheeks. He stares at you for a few seconds, mentally commanding your eyes to meet his. When they don't, he takes action with such confidence that he surprises himself.

His hands move to grasp your wrists, and he pulls you closer to him. He rests his forehead against yours, finally managing to get you to look him in the eyes.

Levi smiles, a sight that only you would have the pleasure of seeing for the rest of your life. He chuckles a little, moving even closer to you.

Dreams really do come true in his case. Sometimes, even the good ones.

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A/N: Ta dah! Heyooo here's the part 2! I hope y'all enjoyed this. My asks are open so ask awayyy. Till next time 💕

[reelwriter19]

A Better Man

Pairings: Erik Stevens X Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Implied smut, cursing

Word Count: 3241

“Sssshhh...Erik you have to stop yelling.” You pleaded with your husband as you struggled to get his oversized drunken frame through the front door.

Slurring every word, “Y/N, I DON’T CARE! These colonizers know who’s buildin’ this is!”

You shook your head and couldn’t help but smirk as Erik kicked his boots off and planted himself on the floor in the hallway like a toddler. It was LATE and you were exhausted, but you gave him a pass on this f**k boi behavior because his 35th birthday was in a few days and even though he’d never admit it, that number was messing with his head. So when the owner of the lounge called you personally to come pick him up at 1:45AM, you threw on a sweater, grabbed your keys and ran out the door.

Erik looked up from his stooper just in time to catch you undoing your bra in annoyance. “YES!!! My girls need to be free!”

“Wow…..goodnight Mr. Stevens.” Shaking your head as you walked away, he seemed to find his sea legs long enough to scurry after you, wrapping his arms around your middle and slowly creeping his hands up to ‘the girls’.

“Come on ma, let me hit. You know I sleep better after.”

His touch in this moment was making you weak, but as you turned your head to permit him a kiss, you were hit with a heavy dose of reality. Erik hadn’t drunk this heavily in a while, and the evidence of it was seeping through his pores and breath in the worst way. You turned to face him, now keeping him at arm's length.

“UGH...nigga let you hit?! I love you, but the last time we tried to have sex when you were this drunk, you fell asleep in me, during said process. Uh huh...nope, not tonight. The girls will be all yours tomorrow.”

The next morning you awoke to find Erik still fully clothed, knocked and snoring on the chaise lounge in your walk-in closet. He still smelled, but you were grateful for the fact that he wasn’t too drunk to remember how you felt about outside clothes on the bed. You kissed him on his forehead, got dressed and started making calls. You were throwing him a birthday party that night at the house. You had to confirm food drop offs with the caterers, pick up some balloons and grab one final gift to surprise him with the next day. His training made him really hard to surprise, but you knew he wouldn’t be expecting this.

You heard the shower turn off as you walked back into the house from your excursion. “Erik!” You hollered putting bags and what seemed like 100 balloons in a corner, making your way upstairs to the bedroom.  “Kia and Shuri will be here in a few hours to help me set up. I’m gonna need you out of here soo…”

Your words trailed off as your ebony Adonis emerged from the bathroom, towel low on his hips, scars glistening on his chest. He knew his power over you and now you were the one intoxicated. He raised an eyebrow as he slinked over to you ever so slowly, you, still frozen, allowing him access to begin undressing you without much of a fight.

“You were sayin’ somethin’?”

“Baby...I have so much to get done for the party.”

“I remember you saying that these right here were all...mine...today.” He started to pepper kisses across your chest and conveniently dropped his towel to the floor. Every task on your list quickly faded into the background. He was the soon to be birthday boy afterall. Who were you to deny him this gift?

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The house was filled with laughter and music. You sat on Erik’s lap with his arm wrapped snug around your waist as he and some of his boys laughed about stories from their days at MIT. You knew the majority of the people there, Erik always kept a tight circle. But there was one guy, Malik, from his days in foster care that he recently reconnected with that hadn’t made your acquaintance. He was mostly quiet throughout the night, sometimes too quiet, but you chalked that up to how he was raised. Knowing what your husband went through, bouncing from house to house, no one really caring if he lived or died, you always had a soft spot for the people he bonded with during those years, and Malik was one of them.

T’Challa walked over to the rowdy bunch in his usual stoic way, hiding something behind his back. Nakia stood next to him, beaming from ear to ear.

“Pardon me Y/N, gentlemen, but N’Jadaka, I have something that might interest you.” He revealed a black velvet cigar box with the word “Daka” embroidered on the top in gold. It was rare to shock this man, it was even more rare for T’Challa to pull a reaction from Erik that wasn’t sarcastic or flippant.

“Yooooo, T! You wild out man!”

Turning to you as Erik stood up, “Is that a good thing?”

Before you could reply, Shuri belted out a laugh from across the room and said, “Oh brotha! That’s a VERY good thing!”

Erik hugged T’Challa, which was enough to bring a tear to your eye, as the men clamoured for access to a cigar as they walked out on the balcony to light one and commemorate the occasion.

You and Nakia locked arms and laughed at the group as they ran outside as if hiding a porno tape from their mothers.

Turning to her, “Should I ask where you got those?”

“Let’s just say, they once belonged to a very bad man with many items that needed to be confiscated for...archiving. And now they have been gifted to a better man to celebrate his life and the passage of time.”

“Riiight. Well thank you, for everything. I really appreciate you guys. He’s been so down lately. I couldn’t have done this without your help. I’m gonna go get the cake ready while they’re out there.”

Walking towards the kitchen, you noticed Shuri trying to hide behind a few other guests that were deep in conversation in the dining room. Pausing, you didn’t even have to walk her way to know what she was up to.

“Shuri! Put that drink down right now!”

“Awww, Y/N come on! I thought we were cool. I just want a taste of this good American stuff.”

“Girl, your mother will kill me! Put it down and go find the candles for the cake.”

She stomped over to you and you grabbed her in a tight hug.

“You’re no fun, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

You walked into the kitchen dancing and singing to yourself. “Tell Me” by Groove Theory was now playing through the speakers Erik insisted you guys have installed when you first brought the place. A few of the guests trickled out of the room as Erik’s friend Malik followed you in.

“Tell me if you want me to, give you all my time. I wanna make it GOOD FOR YOUUU!!!!”

You grabbed some plates and napkins from the cabinet and turned mid groove to find Malik standing a little too close. He was taller than your husband but his facial features were no comparison. Let’s be real, not many faces could compare.

“Oh my bad. I didn’t mean to scare you...I was just lookin’ for a garbage. Y’all recycle?”

“Yep, uuh, right there by the door.”

“Cool cool.” Walking over to discard his beer bottle, he turned back around and extended a hand to you. “Malik.”

Switching the plates to your left hand, you extended yours to shake his. “I know. Erik told me about you. He said you guys were like brothers growing up.”

“Yeah, that’s my dawg.” Licking his lips and taking you in a little too intensely, he continued his thought. “We always liked to share things when we were comin’ up.”

You snatched your hand back as Shuri walked in with the candles in hand, dancing to herself.

“Y/N, you have to make me a playlist of these songs for the lab!”

“I will, I promise.”

You walked towards her, grateful to your God and Bast that Shuri’s timing was so impeccable. As you handed her the other items and took the cake from the counter, Malik touched your butt and quickly left the kitchen.

Did he just grab my ASS?!

No, no, he didn’t, he couldn’t!

That nigga just grabbed by ASS!!

You stormed out of the kitchen ready to raise hell, but as soon as you did, a smiling Erik black man jogged towards you and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You good babe?”

Hands on his chest, gazing in to his bright eyes full of happiness and peace for the first time in a while, there was no way you could ruin this night.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie I’m ok. I was just looking for the candles that’s all. You ready for your cake?”

Nestling his face in your neck as he replied, leaving a wet kiss. “As long as I can have the rest of my dessert later.”

You giggled as his facial hair grazed your skin and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. You hoped that Malik was somewhere watching, being reminded of who the hell your man was and the imminent danger his life was in if he EVER decided to touch you again.

-------

“Aight aight, enough of this terrible singing...blow out the candles man!” One of Erik’s college friends yelled, causing everyone to erupt in laughter. Erik obliged and everyone cheered. He found his way right back to you, engulfing you in his embrace from behind.

“I wanna thank y’all for coming tonight, for real. To have everyone I care about in the same room celebrating me, it’s just, yeah…...I especially wanna thank my princess, my QUEEN who pulled this off without breaking a sweat. I love you, Y/N.”

Turning to face your man, you couldn’t stop cheesing, caressing his dimpled cheeks as he pecked your lips repeatedly.

“Damn, I guess this is what happens when a nigga gets old. Got me all emotional and shit! Shuri, turn that music back up!”

-------

The house had finally cleared of most guests, finally allowing you to put your fuzzy slippers on. You were saying your final goodbyes to T’Challa, Nakia, Shuri.

“Are you sure you don’t need Shuri to help you stay and clean up?” T joked as they walked towards the door.

“Haha! No it’s ok, really. There’s not much more to do. Thank you again. You really made his night.”

“It was our pleasure, Y/N.”

“Make sure you stop by before you head back to Wakanda.”

You closed the door and the newfound silence of your apartment caused you to immediately flash back to that moment in the kitchen with Malik. You had to make sure it got dealt with, but not tonight.

You walked out on the balcony to take in the night air. The life of a hostess was not easy and fatigue was hitting you like a ton of bricks. Out of nowhere, a massive hand smacked you on the butt, scaring the crap out of you. You turned to see it was Erik and not the filth who had violated your space earlier.

“Why you so jumpy girl?”

Attempting to gather yourself quickly and avoid his gaze, you brushed past him and went back into the living room. But as always, he was hot on your heels.

“I’m not E, damn! You just...I thought you were upstairs.”

“You only call me E when you’re annoyed at something or pissed at me, so what’s up?”

“Nothing ERIK, nothing. You’re just always on your sleath shit moving around this house and I wasn’t ready. I’m just tired, baby, that’s all.” Walking towards the steps, you prayed that was enough to hold him off for a bit.

“I’m gonna go change clothes. I left the cake on the counter if you want another slice. Cuz I know you want another slice.”

Whew! Home free, at least for now. You knew your nightly routine would at least give you some time away from him to think. Of course you’d tell him, eventually, but you knew Erik’s past too well to pretend that you weren’t fearful of what he’d do. You’d never be able to erase the sound of the guy's jaw breaking because he put his hands on you at the club when you first started dating. Or the time he threatened your old boss's life and family for overworking his ‘princess’ when you started having panic attacks because of your job. You weren’t at all scared of him, but you were scared of how this news would set him back.

You emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and wearing Erik’s shirt, to find him perched on the corner of your enormous bed, cake in hand and staring at you. You playfully walked towards him planting yourself in between his legs.

“Can I have a piece?”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ll just go get my own.”

“I ate it all before I came upstairs.”

“You better be lying.”

He wasn’t budging and you could tell his patience was starting to wane.

“Fine! Since you refuse to drop this.” You hesitated, backing away from him, bracing yourself for impact, but quickly decided to go another route. You walked to the closet and grabbed a small gift wrapped box from where you kept your extra tampons. He joked with you once that he’d be willing to buy them for you, but after that, you were on your own.

“I made us reservations for tomorrow night. I was going to give this to you then, but you’re so impatient.”

You handed over the box with a huge smile on your face, the giddiness now starting to set in.

Erik looked down at the box and back towards you, rubbing your thigh slowly.

“Well, open, open!”

He chuckled, finding your sudden excitement amusing. “Oh I’m the impatient one?”

He finally opened the box and pulled out a black dog tag necklace with the word ‘Baba’ inscribed on one side and a fingerprint on the other. Erik stared at the necklace in awe. When he finally looked up, he had tears in his eyes, which always made you full on cry.

“Happy Birthday! I’m pregnant. This is your father's fingerprint. I had Nakia do some digging to…”

Before you could get another word out, Erik’s lips were attached to yours. He lifted you off your feet bridal style and placed you on the bed as if moving too fast would break you. Erik made love to you as if it were the first time. Covering every inch of your body with attention to make sure you knew how appreciative he was of the best gift he could have ever asked for.

-------

You laid on your husband's chest, tracing his scars while his fingers made lazy circles along your stomach.

“How long have you known?”

“A few weeks.”

“Damn, I must’ve really been out of it.”

You smiled because him admitting it meant he was finally back.

“E…” You sat up, gathering the sheet around yourself to face him.

“What’s up?”

“Is it hot in here? Wow, i’m sweating.” You jumped up suddenly wrapped in the sheet to go open the window. Now pacing…Erik sat up fully and gave you a minute to process whatever the hell you refused to spit out from earlier.

“Y/N, talk to me.”

“Ok, Erik, listen. Before I tell you anything, I want you to remember that you’re about to be a father. And before I needed you but now it’s your family that needs you. You hear the difference there? We’re a family. And I have a doctors appointment tomorrow afternoon so now that you know I want you to come so you can meet the doctor and get used to…”

In his usual sleath-like manor, Erik had hoped out of bed to stop you from pacing. Once you finally turned around, you were face to chest with him. He lightly grabbed your chin and raised an inquisitive brow. You took a deep breath and finally blurted it out! By the time you finished recounting the story, Erik’s jaw was locked and his body frozen. At this point, you were sitting on the edge of the bed because, exhaustion.

“....I didn’t say anything earlier because you were so happy. Baby I hadn’t heard your laugh in such a long time. I also know how close the two of you used to be. I’m so sorry.”

Hearing that brought your husband back out of his daze. He knelt in front of you making sure your eyes were locked with his.

“Y/N, listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me? You’re my whole world..” Touching your stomach, “Tonight you’ve managed to make that world even better. That nigga violated my trust and made you feel less than in your own body, in our house...f**k no.”

Erik was eerily calm. The man you knew would’ve been dressed at the part of the story with the handshake and in front of Malik’s house with you on speaker by the time you said, “...touched by ass.”

Instead, with a kiss to your forehead, he made the choice to lay back down. “It’s all good baby, let’s get some sleep.”

-------

The next day you awoke to an empty bed. You got dressed quickly and headed downstairs to find Erik in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Good morning beautiful.”

This was always one of your favorite sights. You stood behind him, wrapping him in a hug while he plated the cheese eggs and breathed him in.

“It’s your birthday Erik. I should be cooking for you.”

“Please...besides your doctor called and had to push your appointment up by an hour so eat up quick! I don’t wanna be late.”

You watched him run upstairs, still wondering who the hell this new guy was and what he did with Erik “the colonizers can kiss mine” Stevens.

He came back down, keys in hand, dog tag on next to his father's ring, sneakers and glasses on. Damn you loved when he wore those glasses. That’s probably how you got pregnant in the first place.

“You ready?”

“Yeah…” You put your plate in the dishwasher and grabbed your bag, walking towards the hallway with him.

“Baby? About our conversation last night. You’re not gonna do anything crazy are you?”

“Oh, you mean Malk?”

“Yes, Erik, that’s what I'm talking about”

“It’s already handled.”

“Erik...what did you do?! Didn’t we discuss this? FAMILY. BABY. Us NEEDING you to not get locked up or worse.”

“Relax, Y/N. I didn’t do anything personally.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, but he wasn’t quite done. “...let’s just say no one will see him anywhere, EVER...AGAIN.”

“E! You can’t just go offing people at every whim, even if you do hire someone else to take care of it for you. That’s not what I meant.”

“Baby steps, ma. Baby steps.”

[janiedean]

Antis are in the r*dfem cult too and it's sad how almost half of an entire generation of young queer people got recruited into that

I mean... the problem is that they infiltrated a lot of spaces when they should have been shut off since the beginning and I really just hope people wake up to how toxic and generally shit they are at some point never mind that they're nowhere near progressive, but the fact that it happened is bad and the thing is that... basically anti-ism and terfism have an entire list of shit in common starting with wanting people to conform to whatever they think is the correct way of thinking, being antikink, being anti sexwork, othering anyone who tells them they're wrong, discouraging critical thinking and mostly wanting to police what people are allowed to like or not, and like that's why all those dumbass posts that were around ages ago like 'ah op was a terf so I'm cp-ing from them so that they don't get traffic' were like the most fucking stupid thing in existence

because like sorry if I go into a rant here but point is: you can't steal stuff from a terf and presume to repost it as an opinion you share because guess what you're still sharing a rdfem opinion which is most likely not harmless - what is going to cp posts from terfs saying all men are a scum of the earth going to accomplish? it's a shit rdfem opinion that you should criticize because it comes from that side of the fence, and it's not like you can say 'ah I disagree with rdfems about trans women/trans people/being gender critical but they're right on everything else' because just that means that automatically they're cutting out of the list of ppl they care of everyone that's not a rich cis(het) mostly white woman and I put (het) in the brackets because then they preach political lesbianism and go around saying wanting to be with men is being brainwashed by the patriarchy and like... that's not a thing you can pick and choose. it's shit thinking. it's like that time I argued with one who said that going back to separate gender schools would be super feminist bc apparently girls performed better in a same gender environment and boys performed worse so it would bridge the gap in society and like

that just shows you don't know how a sexist society works bc if society is sexist it doesn't matter if a woman is more competent than a man I mean didn't the 2016 us election teach ppl anything

separated genders schools means that you don't interact with ppl of the opposite gender your age regularly every day until you're 18 and like... not to be that person but if you don't have friends of the opposite gender then how are you gonna interact with the opposite gender when you're in university? like... all these people say men should be more understanding of women but how can they if they don't talk to any that are not related to them?

where do you send trans ppl in this scenario?

what about lgbt people in general surrounded by possibly homophobic/transphobic classmates?

also those schools tend to be private in general so what if someone can't afford it?

like basically such a thing only favors (in theory) girls who are well-off, not lgbt and I dare say not non-good looking bc I can swear an all-girls school if you don't conform to whatever's the ideal is not the place you wanna spend thirteen years of your life, but hey that's feminist! because we said so! and it sounded good! yeah no, it's not feminist it's like dumbass 50s rhetoric dressed to sound feminist and it's the same for all terf crap - like you can scream that you don't like surrogacy how much you want and it's a thing that should be discussed/regulated, but someone telling me surrogacy is a travesty bc 'motherhood is a fundamental part of femininity' which is what terfs say about it means implying that if you're not a mother you're not a full woman and that if you want to be a surrogate you shouldn't which in one go negates body autonomy (bc surrogacy is also that if someone chooses to do it out of their own free will) and says that any woman who can't have children or doesn't want to isn't a whole woman, which... they might think it's a clever way to say trans women aren't women, except it cuts off each single cis woman who's sterile, every single cis woman who like doesn't want to have kids and on top of that sounds like victorian age bullshit bc what the fuck we spend the entire 20th century making the point that having children was a choice and a woman wasn't useless if she didn't have any and in 2021 we're sprouting this? like fuck that, and let's not even go into the antikink stuff because saying that if you like something in bed then the patriarchy influenced you OR it means you're not okay or whatever then it turns into whatever crap antis say about ppl being sick in the head for writing kink which is like not anything that makes any sense whatsoever and guess what you get sucked in like that and then you turn into the kind of idiot who agrees with trump/the american right wingers that you should have guards at public bathrooms to make sure trans ppl don't access the one of their gender and like.... sure, as a woman I feel so much more threatened by a trans woman using the stall next to me than by idk a guard feeling me up to make sure I'm a cis woman before I can use the bathroom, suuureeee /sarcasm

tldr: terfism is backwards right wing ideology dressed up as feminism and that people fell for it like this is a disgrace but I'm nowhere near suprised that terfs ended up recruiting antis or that antis ended up being terfs, bc it's the same kind of bullshit thinking and if you don't wonder why you're sharing the ideas of someone whose ideas you technically loathe then good luck not getting sucked in into cults like that :/

[madlilsongbird]

Watching The Amazing Spidernan movies so that I’m all caught up before No Way Home. Will add my thoughts as I have them. Note I am not some big Spider-Man fan nor have I read the comics so if my thoughts sound kinda stupid they probably are.

First movie:

That’s a good trick with the broom. Making a mental note as we speak.

Actually seeing Peter say goodbye to his parents is horrible and I would like to never experience it again

SALLY FIELD IS AUNT MAY?! Why does this one have the good cast? (not good as in better but good as in more well known)

The sexual tension in “good morning flash…good morning Peter” (this is a joke I’m not shipping him with his bully)

Jesus roid rage much?

Shut your blinds! I don’t know who would be looking in your window at this exact moment but close them anyway!

First careful, you never know who is watching what you search (when did I become this person)

Second…curt connors is ableist.

Poor Rodrigo Guevara

Oh internalised ableism. And that is the only comment I will make going forward because my disabilities do not include limb difference and I dont want to overstep.

Stop following the man, you are not subtle…wait wtf how’d he do that?!

This is where he gets his powers right?

Okay but when would 5 men make that much of a fuss over a woman that only 1 of them seems to know?

Same. (This is in reference to smashing the alarm clock)

Oh my god is it really necessary to show all the different kinds of spider bites.

Actually just going back to the internalised ableism thing…he is allowed to feel whatever type of way about his own disability that is his right. But insinuating that all disabled people are weak and wanting to breed out the weakness is eugenics and just kinda gross. THIS is the final comment I will make on the matter.

No but seriously he is way more aggressive than regular teen boy aggressive so either he’s on something or he’s overcompensating for something

The way he looks at him doe (again all jokes am not shipping flash and Peter)

Why is this so awkward? And not like teens navigating a crush awkward just genuinely awkward. I feel no chemistry between them.

I like the song, it’s an interesting choice for this scene but I like it.

Stop does uncle Ben die now? Like I know uncle Ben dies at some point but I was really kinda hoping he just wouldn’t in this iteration. I was going for a ninth doctor moment “just this once everybody lives”

MOTHERFUCKER

God Sally is incredible

Don’t show me moments of Flash being human I might accidentally start shipping them for real and that simply can’t happen.

Oooh he’s a fashion designer

I just really enjoy how he takes the piss out of his victims? Arrests?

Is Gwen aware that the school nurse can’t cure everything? Both legally and just like generally doesn’t have the knowledge to cure everything. She suggests going to the nurse a lot.

This family gives me bad vibes

This is a long movie…it’s not even half way through

Well that’s one way to tell her

NOT GEORGE FOYET!

I think with what I remember of SpiderTobey and what I know of SpiderTom, Andrews Spider-Man is definitely better with the people he’s rescuing. Smoother, good bedside manner.

His sons name is Jack. Why does that make me angry?

So he’s just not gonna rescue the other people hanging off the bridge?

It’s almost poetic that the son of the man tried to stop him the first time will be the one to stop him now

Now how is he getting enough power in the sewer

No means no Peter

Does she die in this one or the next one? I don’t imagine her dying will help captain stacey see him as a good guy

Stan 🥺

This movie is exhausting and I don’t know if I mean that in a good way or a bad way.

MoThEr HuBbArD aRe YoU sErIoUs

He managed to get three whole words out and you didn’t think to ease up on the trigger a little to hear what those words might be?

She’s very clever and I will be sad to see her go

That wasn’t her scream. Or it was but from a different take.

Foyet about to be coming in clutch

I’m going to cry.

He’s so ugly. Some lizards are really cute but lizard + human, kinda gross looking.

Well shit. I didn’t know that happened. I guess what I said about him being upset with Peter about Gwen is irrelevant. Unless it isn’t, like if you believe in the afterlife, imagine how pissed he’s gonna be when Gwen arrives.

He finally got the eggs 🥺

As someone who’s boyfriend at the time didn’t go to her fathers funeral I feel ya Gwen. I mean I don’t care now but at the time it sucked.

Dr Connors was just in a silly goofy mood. He seems to show genuine care for the boy (this is mostly sarcasm).

Second movie

Oh we’re going back to peters dad.

How do they have access to a private jet?

Miss Honey is badass

Ngl I’m actually quite relieved they both died before the plane crashed. Stil devastating though.

Okay so this is first up on the list of potential mystery villains in No Way Home…he looks like a tool.

HeLLo PeDeStRiAnS

He really just let Spider-Man put his hand on his tongue. Sir do you know where his hand has been? Not to mention just in general the feeling of spandex on your tongue. I feel ill.

No respect for the proper care of plutonium.

Please don’t ever say “come to daddy” again 😂

I’m kinda sad Jamie Fox becomes a villain, his character seems kinda sweet so far from the 2 seconds I’ve seen of him

You mean to tell me he missed his girlfriend’s fathers funeral AND her valedictorian speech?!

Stan x2 🥺

Because you can’t lose me you’re going to lose me? 😂

I love her jacket

Why are they still pretending like she doesn’t know?

I may have spoken to soon about Max

See I would be speeding up daddy’s death if he told me he’d passed down a genetic disease and just decided not to tell me.

Friendship.

Okay max is still a little bit nutty but you gotta feel bad for the guy. He must’ve been so scared.

Don’t smile that’s not cute, if he was a regular boy you’d file a restraining order.

Oh I see Spider-Man is gonna fight him which will make him turn and become the “bad guy” whether he will actually be a bad guy is still unknown.

This scene is actually kinda just making me angry (the time square scene)

Cops suck man. Peter was talking him down just fine.

Did nobody teach these people not to touch metal when there’s electricity about.

Interesting that I didn’t pick up any chemistry from them in the first movie weren’t they an actual couple for a while?

Another good song with an interesting placement

I’m sorry did the caller ID not say Mary Parker? How was it Harry on the phone?

Run Gwen!

This version of Harry is kinda creepy I’m sure the actor is swell but the character is terrifying. Original version Harry was swell whereas the actor is…

“Maybe everyone has a part of themselves they hide” gives him the eye

This movies shorter or at least it feels shorter

An excellent show of what happens when you tell a rich daddy’s boy no for the first time.

This makes me very sad. She’s so excited for the possibility of Oxford.

As much as Harry disturbs me, I want him to burn his entire team.

His daddy really did love him!

I think it’s mostly his eyes, his behaviour can be explained by trauma (why I find Harry creepy)

Okay most of his behaviour. The taking joy in killing people that’s just him being nutty and not a trauma response.

This is fucked up. And where is Peter? he is off chasing a girl who has broken up with him twice now.

PLANES NEED THE POWER!

I really like SpiderAndrew, the movies are fine but as a character I thoroughly enjoy him

Sorcerers apprentice who?

Captain Stacy can’t blame him! She’s clearly stubborn as hell and her own free woman

I quite literally stopped breathing (in reference to the almost plane crash)

Is this why they made it Gwen and not MJ so that he could kill her and be an actual bad guy? From my little knowledge of the comics and what I’ve seen from the movies Harry would never hurt MJ so it had to be someone else important to Peter but not super important to him for him to a real bad guy

I like that Harry actually looks like a goblin.

What was the disease he’s supposed to have?

This poor family. I know I said they gave me bad vibes in the first movie but nobody deserves this.

He looks less like a tool with his suit on…but only slightly less

Baby you better get back behind that baracade!

Nobody talk to me I’m very emotional. This child looks very much like a magical mix of all 3 of my brothers put together and seeing him stand there so brave but so scared is doing something to me.

Final thoughts:

So I think SpiderAndrew might be a close second favourite for me. I like the relationships of the original the most, the comedy of the mcu version the most but this one was like a nice in between. Im a little disappointed there won’t be a third not cos I think I would have enjoyed it just cos the original had 3 movies, the mcu version will have at least 3 movies and this one is left out with 2. Don’t think I would have loved Shailene Woodley as MJ though so I dunno. I think the only thing I would have wanted from a third movie is to know who fedora guy is…and for Peter and May to acknowledge that they both know that he is Spider-Man. Apart from that it was fine and I now feel fully prepared for No Way Home.

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: The pace is ~slowly picking up for these two😌 I didn’t allow any pining yet but it shall come soon and I hope you like the mild softness in this part😏 I hope you like this one, and as always thank you so much for any feedback!

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: a hint of angst, slow roast burn?, a crumb of Tender™

You roll your neck and shoulders, trying to relieve some of the aches from the day. As of late, you’ve been sedentary at work, and it’s starting to have an effect on your muscles. You look across the desk at Steve, who’s been in the same boat. This new management is really starting to get on your last nerve. Lately they've been restricting the amount of time you're in the field. Before anything makes it to your desk, it has to first collect dust on the ambassador’s, then the colonel’s, then Messina’s. They’ve claimed all this funneling of information is for “efficiency”—you’re not entirely sure they know what the word means. By the time any intel makes it into your hands, it may as well have never been reported at all. You can imagine the laughs this system has given Escobar as he continues to be a free man from one day to the next.

Steve puts out his cigarette and meets your tired eyes. “You good for the day?” he asks, the same exhaustion in his own voice.

“I’m going to try to get ahead on some of tomorrow’s bullshit before I head out,” you say with a sigh. “Can you take some of Peña’s stuff to him if you get home first? I’ll bring the rest after.”

He nods and stands up, tucking his gun behind his back before grabbing the files and heading out. Your desk lamp is the only thing lighting up the space as you work quickly to get the files sorted. You’re the last one here, but you’re nearly as alone as you are during the day, with only your thoughts and the messy stack of papers keeping you company. 

~

“That’s all we had for today,” you say, dropping the heavy stack of files onto the marble countertop. The large red stamp that says “CLASSIFIED” across the top of each folder is deceiving in its urgency; it’s more than likely just another pile of useless leads that Escobar’s already one step ahead of. But it has to be sorted through nonetheless, much to Javier’s annoyance—another long night of mindless paperwork awaits.

Javier’s off his crutches and back to work now, but only to an extent. He’s still unable to walk fully without a limp, and is currently assigned to working from home unless absolutely necessary—though he’s convinced that this is less about his safety and more about preventing him from going on another undisclosed mission. He’s only been back at the embassy a handful of times since getting shot, but if he can’t be involved in the action out on the field he may as well stay in his own place and let you and Murphy deal with the assholes that hover over everything you do.

He skims the stack of documents before looking up at you. “This is all?” he jeers sarcastically, raising his brows. 

“Hey, you didn’t have to deal with the shit that Steve and I had to look over today,” you remark. “Consider yourself lucky.”

Yeah. Another fucking wasted day. Real lucky, he thinks, huffing quietly as he flips the first folder open.

He observes silently as your eyes dart to the medication bottle on the counter, then to the kitchen. You carry the same tension in your posture every time you come over here—always making sure things are in their place, even off-duty. He almost rolls his eyes, but unconsciously stops himself before you turn back to him.

You don’t say anything, but he knows you’re just itching to mention the excess bottles of liquor, or the lack of any real food on his shelves. He’s been taking his meds and cleaning his wound like he’s supposed to, if only so you would leave him the hell alone about it. Or maybe you were starting to get to him, more than he thought—and certainly more than he’s allowed.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask, tapping your fingers on the counter. It’s all become routine now—you ask if he needs anything, he replies that he’s a functional adult again and therefore should just be left alone. The usual. Though he’s recently noticed you don’t fidget with your hands or the fabric of your clothes as much anymore, for a reason he doesn’t know—why he’s caught on to this, he doesn’t know either. 

Javier shakes his head, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one.

“Well, then...I’ll leave you to it,” you continue. He watches as you leave his apartment for what has to be the thirtieth time, quietly locking the door behind you—as if he can’t do it himself—the familiar sound of metal clicking into place followed by your footsteps fading away.

~

As you drop off today's documents, you wonder if Peña notices the slight change in your voice, the growing darkness under your eyes. Steve certainly had. “You look like hell,” he'd told you at the office today. Truthfully, you’re just tired. Tired of running in circles and chasing someone who might as well be a ghost; a ghost that leaves chaos in its wake and haunts you at night. Tired of bosses who don't seem to have a sense of urgency about any of it. So you probably do look a bit rough. But you’re too preoccupied to care. 

“Murphy told me it was a long day,” Javier comments, breaking your momentary reverie. You look up at him. 

It's been longer than that.

He takes a sip from his glass and gestures up and down at you with his free hand. Your hair’s a mess and your blouse is untucked and unbuttoned all the way, revealing the tank top you’re wearing underneath. “Have you, uh, slept recently?” he asks with a smirk on his face, his tone laced with teasing. You’re not in the mood for it.

“I don't want to fucking hear it, Peña.” You say it in such a way that it wipes the grin off his face. 

If he’s bothered by your remark, he makes no indication of it. Instead of responding, he leans against the counter, waiting for you to continue.

“Work was work, but the ambassador gave us hell,” you explain, abruptly slamming today’s files down on the counter. “I don’t know what anybody’s problem is anymore—do they want to catch these bastards or not?”

Javier meets your eyes, speculating when the last time you actually got some rest was, if you slept as restlessly as he did. He quickly pushes the thought away—why should he be concerned? But he nods anyways, knowing the feeling well.

“I have access to better CIs than the bullshit we're given,” he remarks. “You're the one who won’t get on board.” 

Your mouth twitches, and you can't resist. “Another informant? Jesus, Peña, doesn’t your leg hurt?”

He glowers at you. "Not that kind of informant," he quips, muttering under his breath.

“Anyways, I don’t know what’s worse, mindless paperwork, or busting our asses while trying not to get killed out there,” you say under your breath, mostly to yourself.

A brief silence passes. “I know,” he finally says with resignation. He rubs the area over his brow bone, seeming to contemplate what else to say. “I know how those assholes are,” he adds, and you’re surprised that it sounds genuine.

The lack of a sarcastic response is unexpected. It’s almost as if a silent but mutual understanding has materialized between you, and you’re not quite sure how to feel about it. For now, at least, it’s a somewhat nice change.

Your lips curve into a reluctant smile. “But I have to deal with those assholes, and you, too,” eliciting an eye roll and soft chuckle from him.

Another few ticks of the clock go by before you both turn to the stack of documents. Peña sighs.

You don’t know what overcomes you when you speak again. “I can help you go through it...if you want,” you offer with a shrug, though it sounds like a question.

He looks at you, a brow raised. “Why?”

You want to answer but you’re not too sure yourself. “The faster we can get this shit done, the sooner we can get back on the field.” Just this once, you think. If Peña’s thrown off by your suggestion, he doesn’t let it show.

Without another word, you each take half of the pile and get to work.

~

There are many things you’ve never noticed about Peña’s apartment before—you ponder this as you sit on his couch, leaning over the coffee table perusing today’s documents. You’ve been here too many times now, but have never paid attention to the smaller things. The frames that line his wall don’t contain photos of other people, but of a few dogs; presumably his, but it makes you wonder if he’s not close enough to anyone to have a picture of them. There’s a lot of books stashed away on some shelves, covered in dust but worn as though they were once well-loved. A month ago you would’ve thought the only books Peña read were those titled How to Be an Asshole 101. But most of all, you realize his apartment is just about as empty as your own; minimal decor and just the essentials. The years have gone by here in Colombia, but you have never bothered to make the place feel more like home. A job is a job. Things may change by the minute when you’re DEA, but somehow the days are all exactly the same. A heavy conscience is all that fills your empty apartment, and that’s more than enough clutter for you. 

You snap out of it when he comes out of the bathroom, having just changed his bandages. The bullet wound has mostly resolved—that's what he tells you, anyways. But he still walks with the limp, and you can tell he hates it; you know he’s not someone who can sit still and do nothing for such long periods of time. Fortunately—or not—he can do some work at home. Somehow you’ve found yourself staying over more often to help get the work done; much more than the one-time occasion you'd convinced yourself it would be. At first it’s just a few spare evenings, quiet nights that would have been dull anyways; a few extra hours after work here and there, slowly making a dent in the piles of busy work you’re given. Steve comes over occasionally, but he actually has someone to go home to so it’s never for too long.

Several times you argue over the correct method to go about hunting down a new lead—conventional versus methodical, straight-forward versus roundabout. You bite the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t agree and he groans with exasperation. But how much of it actually matters? you wonder. At the end of the day, Escobar still walks free. The last time you were on the field together, La Quica slipped from your fingers, and then some.

At some point, you attempt to explain your thought process; the reasoning, the logic. It’s not the first time you’ve tried to, but for some reason, Javier listens. Really listens. And, even stranger to him, he starts to understand. His world doesn’t turn and he won’t change his mind anytime soon, but he slowly figures you out. And somehow, the few hours you spend in his flat have slowly turned into longer evenings that go well past midnight. 

It takes you longer, but down the line you unwittingly start to understand him, too; not a lot, and not completely by any means. But for the first time since working with him, you no longer have this urge to shoot daggers with your eyes when you look at him.

Tonight looks to be another one of those long nights. You rest your chin on your hand, watching as Peña plots out a map of the city, narrowing down the potential hideouts of Escobar’s men. These late nights are getting to you, and you let out a big yawn without noticing. He stops mid-sentence and meets your eyes, and for a second you think you see a hint of amusement; it’s quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression.

You take a moment to stretch your arms and back, and Peña gets up to walk over to the kitchen. You decide to move to the floor for a change, crossing your legs on the cold, hard tile. He comes back with two glasses and a bottle of liquor he didn’t even have to read the label on before grabbing.

“Drink?” he asks, setting the glasses down and joining you on the floor.

You nod and push your hair out of your face, taking a glass as he pours the clear liquid into it.

“Do you think we can find them?” you suddenly ask, swirling the drink around. “Any of them?”

He looks surprised by your question; not because it’s a strange one but because it’s not something that’s ever discussed. Plans are put into place, actions are taken, orders are followed. “We’ll get him”, is the only thing spoken, a motto repeated in the face of defeat. “One way or another.” For a long time you’ve all been running on autopilot, simply chasing down one chance after another. More losses than wins, yet everyone refuses to back down. It’s the sort of thing that starts to wear a person down when they’ve been doing it long enough.

He must be lost in the same train of thought, taking a few seconds longer to realize you’re waiting for an answer.

“I wouldn’t stay here if I didn’t,” is all he says, raising his glass.

It’s nearly the same thing you tell yourself, especially on nights when it’s harder to sleep. You purse your lips and nod, turning your attention back to the files at hand.

~

Javier turns out the lights and pulls himself under the covers, letting out a heavy sigh as he runs his hands over his face. He needs this damn leg to heal itself soon—every day he’s not on the field is another day he can’t go after those assholes. He considers contacting one of his CIs again, but for a second he feels a sensation he can’t explain. Doubt? It’s not guilt—he can’t feel something that’s already made a home in the back of his mind. It’s fleeting, gone before he can think anymore of it. He thinks of you and wonders if it's the same things that keep you up, because it’s obvious that something does. When he finally lets himself close his eyes, he realizes he’s thought of you too often for his own liking. In his defense, you have been at his place more frequently. But so has Murphy, to some extent, and it’s not like he’s been thinking of him in his free time.

He groans and rolls over onto his good leg’s side and moves into the middle of his empty bed,  waiting for the images that fill his thoughts every night to lull him into another restless slumber.

~

You’d come over straight after work tonight, not bothering to drop your stuff off at your own place first. 

Recently the higher-ups passed a new lead into your hands—a good lead, and a usable one, for once. Finally having something interesting to follow, you’ve spent many more hours poring over the details. 

You haven’t even so much as looked up from the pictures on the table for at least an hour. Javier blinks the dryness out of his eyes as he leans back and massages the back of his neck, tempted to have another smoke. The clock reads 2:03. It’s later than he thought.

He stands up, putting the papers down on the table. “I’ll be back. Gotta change this dressing again,” he says quietly.

Somewhere between the complete silence and the sound of Peña shuffling around in his bedroom, you toss your pen down and lean back against the couch. Your back aches and the back of the couch is cool and comfortable. You uncross your legs, trying to relax for just a minute.

It's a while before Javier walks back out into the living room, about to say something when he sees you leaning against the side of the couch with your eyes shut. You’re holding your hands close to your body, as though you didn’t mean to let yourself get comfortable. He initially resists the urge to smile at the sight, but lets out a chuckle when it becomes obvious you won’t catch him. He debates waking you up, assuming you’d rather not stay overnight at his place. But after a few moments he decides against it, turning to go back to his room.

You’ll just be grumpy if he wakes you up. Best to save himself the trouble of dealing with it. Javier tells himself this as he pulls a spare blanket from the closet, then limps back out towards the couch. He gently shakes the thin blanket out and drapes it over you. It smells faintly of mothballs, but it’s clean and serves its function—his other guests usually share his blanket. He’s about to go back to his room when the loud roar of the AC suddenly brings a cool breeze into the room. He looks at you again, readjusting the blanket and pulling it up over your shoulders.

He pauses before turning off the lamp beside the table, his gaze lingering on you. You haven’t moved; it must’ve been a longer day than you let on. You’ve still got those tired lines under your eyes, but when you’re not nagging at him, you almost look peaceful. It’s such a marked disparity from the world outside that, just for a moment, he feels a bit at ease himself.

When he sees you like this, Javier decides that maybe you’re not so bad after all.

~

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[tanakavox]

Look into the mutiverse chapter 4

Thanks again to ExiledDarkness for writing the charcters reaction for this chapter. Please go check out his stuff. And if your wondering where Qrow came from, We forgot to add a scene for Qrow and didn't feel like going back.

This chapter is based of the Youtuber SomecallmeJohnny and his review of Super Mario 64. I had to cut it short because my laptod was acting up again and google docs was acting wonky, parts of the fic getting erased. Rest assure for the Somecallmejohnny fans, I won't just do his reviews. I have plans to do Super gaming bros reaction as well. And for those who don't know Johnny, go check him! Enjoy the reaction.

The screen lights up again and shows Jaune wearing a cap and hoodie and sitting on a bright red couch. He had a bit of stubble on his face and he was currently holding a controller in his hand as he turned on a device known as the N64.

"Oh? Jaune looks good with stubble." Blake comments. Everyone looks at Jaune and then back to the one on the screen. They all nodded in agreement.

"It's a go time! Super Mario 64!" He said in a high pitched voice with a bad accent.

The Jaune on the screen sighed seemingly tired. "Lady and Gents welcome back to the Super Mario marathon, And just like with Ocarina of time, this is a game that haunted me during the N64 lifetime. Jaune looked the the N64 sitting on his dresser and continued. "It was like the console itself was actively mocking me like: "Hey Jauney? How about you ditch that playstation and try me out instead?" The blonde's eyes lit up in anger. "Well I didn't have a job in 1996 you sensitive prick!" Jaune snapped at the console.

Everyone blinked at the sudden anger. Ruby turned towards JNPR and asked, "Are you okay Jaune?"

Jaune, still frozen from the sudden burst of anger from his other self, snaps back to reality and nods at the question. "Yeah, I think I understand what's happening here. But I'll stay quiet until I know for sure."

Jaune turned toward the screen and went on like nothing happened. "Last time I gave Mario attention, I was focused on what made the Italian "Plumber—"" He said with quotation marks. "—the video game icon he is today. Now we're gonna do it again only in 3d."

Jaune turned to his audience and smiled. "You guys ready for another Super Mario marathon?"

"Aha!" Jaune says as he slammed his closed fist on his hand. "This is me doing video games!"

Ren paused at hearing this information. "Then that explains the sudden burst of anger then." Nora and Jaune nod while the rest of the audience looks on confusedly.

RWBY look at each other before Yang hesitantly asks, "So why did he get so angry?"

Jaune laughs before scratching the back of his head. "I like video games but I hate it when I can't progress further into the game. Sometimes I get really into it, I guess."

"Here we go, Super Mario 64, the 64 being figureded to the console and not the 64 game in the series, Mario's first 3d game, and a launch title for the N64. It was highly praised and hailed as the 3d version of what Super Mario bros on the NES did for platemors at the time, Mario 64 did the same. But I came into the 64 train late, So I don't have what you call: Super Mario 64 memories. In fact my first 3d Mario game was the next game we'll be looking at: Super Mario Sunshine on the GameCube. Jaune's expression darkened as he smiled hurmlousy. "But that can wait. Oh it can wait." The tone of his voice was bitter and venomous.

Everyone laughed now knowing the context of Jaune's anger towards video games.

"Alright booting the game up and the first thing you see is Mario's head. You know to really hammer in that this is Mario's first 3d adventure. You can even fuck around with the face a bit but it doesn't really effect the game it's just there for fun.

We're also greeted by Mario's new voice, provided by Charles Margent. Shockingly this isn't his debut as the Jumpman, that was in Mario Fundamental, a Pc game released a year before. Pretty sure no one heard of it before someone did a document on it.

"This idea of a floating Mario head, perhaps more infamously in Mario teaches typing two. A floating deformed head pop on the screen.

"Hey? Are you ready for Mario type?" It asked.

"Mother of God." Jaune deadpan in horror.

"Despite the new voice, Mario doesn't speak much. It's mostly hiyas woohoos throughout the game. And he only speaks a full phase when he completes a goal or he falls asleep on the job. It shows the red clad mario on the ground sleeping.

"Ha spatgai, Ha ravioli." The plumber mutters in his sleep.

Nora drools over the names of food. They sound pretty good right now.

"Charles as Mario is so absorbed into my head I can't imagine anyone else doing the role. It's not like the acting is amazing or anything, he's been voicing Mario for nearly 20 years at this point. If Charles stepped out of the role for any reason, the next guy would just try to simulate Charles' voice.

"It's weird that way," Ren piped up, "No matter what happens people are going to remember the original no matter how much the new one tries to be the old one.

"Hear hear ninja boy" Qrow cheered a bit and took a swig of his beer.

"Okay nearly forgot that I was looking at a video game, Sorry about that. Well let's look at that plot shall we?"

"I'm curious to hear about the kind of story this game might have," Ozpin said as he crosses his legs.

"Boswer kidnaps Princess Peach, Mario must go save her, now that didn't take long now did it?"

Ozpin blinked and sat back in his seat, a bit disappointed.

"I'll let it slide this time since they probably wanted to keep it safe for the first game in 3d. Hell, the menu theme is the main theme for the series."

Qrow snorts. "Fair enough. I guess you can't expect these guys to be that ballsy."

The entire game is set in Peach's castle. Boswer has taken the power star, which I believe gives the castle power? Jaune shrugged. I dunno what they do, it's not really explain and getting more powerstar allows you to get into more levels, and that's the name of the game here. Bowser had set up routine courses in painting.

"The courses tend to varies but nothing here gets too crazy like other Mario games. It's not until late game you go to more odd place like in a clocktower or riding rainbow.

"The game's openness is the first thing you'll take note of in Mario 64. You can start a mission with a hint on what to do,but there is nothing stopping you from just doing a different mission and grabbing the star despite not being the mission you clicked on.

There are a handful of expectations like racing against against Koopa the quick who not gonna show up unless you chose his mission, but most of the time you can go at it on your own pace. Eh, I didn't wanna fight King Bo-mb yet, I want free the chain chomp and get the star there. I could take down King twop, or I could do a well place jump and get this unrelated power star. And that's where a lot of Mario's replay value comes in, not just getting the power star but how you get them.

"Oh, this game sounds fun! I should get it if we ever get out of here." Nora exclaimed.

"With what money Nora?" Jaune asked. Nora looked at Jaune with a wide smile. "No." Jaune deadpan. Nora pouted at his response and turned to Ren with a wide smile.

"No Nora. And do not ask Weiss either." Ren said with his eyes still on the screen and Nora pouted again.

Peach's castle acts as a hub world, the place you're exploring and using to get to other stages to get more power stars. But in order to duke it out with Bowser, you need to get a certain amount of power stars to access the level. As a guy who doesn't care for hub worlds I don't mind Peach's castle. The levels aren't too far apart and there are things you can do in the castle that can help you increase your star count. Like a secret race track that gives you two stars if you're fast enough, or an underwater level that contains an easy to get star. It challenges you in a way that makes it still feel like a Mario game.

"It sounds pretty easy at first glance, but I can understand how annoying it can become if you mess up at least once or twice." Jaune says. Ruby, Nora, and even Ren nod in agreement.

The biggest change to the formula was the jump to 3d, like with Ocarina of Time. He still has to break boxes, stomp on enemies, the works but this game gave the man a few extra moves to go along with the change to 3d. The analog stick is used to move Mario, the further you tilled it the faster he moves, instead of the run button we knew from the past game. Mario still has the jumps he's famous for, but pressing the jump button can allow Mario to reach the heights he's never seen until this game without a power up. He can crouch and crawl but I've only used this a total of once. But you standstill and jump you can do a backflip, and if you crouch and run you can do a long jump which I love using so much and because you can do some real fancy shit with it, and it makes Mario move faster to boot. If you snap the anlong back and jump he can do a somersault and if you jump towards a wall, Mario can wall jump as well.

Nora makes a face at the detailed review. "All these moves and stuff sound annoying. Why can't games be as simple like they are now?!"

Ren sighs and begins to explain but Qrow cuts in. "It's because of games like these were like test models that you get to play the good quality games you have now. I remember playing Soaring Ninja back when he was literally unplayable and useless. Now look at him!"

Ruby and Yang gasp, Soaring Ninja was unplayable?

"I wouldn't be surprised if this move came from the gameboy version of Donkey kong. That remake has a fucklord of levels and a handstand jump for Mario. He still takes damage if he falls too far, so he's just a pale imitation. Jaune had Mario wall jump a wall to prove a point. "The Mario I know could fall from any height and take no dam-" Jaune cut himself off his eyes widening when he heard Mario grunt in pain and his health go down a bit. "WHAT THE FUCK! He took damage from a large height! Mario! What's the meaning of this?" He asked in bewilderment, looking at the floating Mario head from earlier."

"Oh nice computer you have here. Can I have it?" the Mario head asked

"No!" Jaune exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes widened at the scene. Ozpin checked his mug with scrutiny to see if he was still drinking the right drink. Looked normal enough.

"Peach's castle has 120 power stars in the castle, but you only need 70 of them to beat the game." Jaune had a strained smile on his face as he continued. But where the fun in just getting 70 power star and beating the game that way, it not like getting all the star is that time com- for fuck sakes yes it is!"

"Let's just get one thing clear, I fucking depise the 100 coin misson. It's as simple as it sounds, grab 100 coins and then grab the star that appears over your head. Lather rinse repeat, for all 15 courses. In a game that usually has you go to once place and grab the star, collecting these coins brings the game to grueling crawl. Mario 64 doesn't have a checkpoint system. It doesn't bother me much. The levels are usually small and with Mario's new moves getting the Power star is not only comartable, it's also pretty fucking fun. And then their these." That venomous tone from before came back. The screen showcased the blue coins that have appeared throughout most of the video so far.

"Aw it's one of those games! The type that needs you to waste your time actually going through all of what the game has planned for you before you get to the final boss! What a rip off!" Qrow exclaims, tossing his hands in the air. Jaune agrees, crossing his arms and trying not to join in on the rage.

"No amount of looking of cute puppies. can cotain the amount of rage i have when I fuck up these mission with a impeferct jump or when a enemey hits me from behind. It's not always a painful process, but sucks so hard cause the coins are either place so far part or because they're so goddamn scarce! "Gotta kill those enemies before the coins blink away and scatter when they spawn. These blue coins are 5 regular coin a piece but you gotta get them before they blink away and you only got one shot! Was there area I didnt search, an enemy I skipped, I did I fuck up somewhere since I only have 64 coins after look around what feels like for fucking ever?!

"And try not get the last coin in a dangerous area or impossible to backtrack to. The star will always appear right above Mario's head, so make sure it's a safe locati-GODDAMN!"

The star had appeared in a caged area that Mario couldn't reach.

Everyone laughed at the other Jaune's misery. The Arf viewing the screen feels relieved that he himself isn't on the receiving end. Or was he?

"Couldn't just tell the star to come to you Mario?" Jaune asked the Mario head on his computer.

"When a moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore!" Mario began to sing and Jaune facepalm when he didn't get answered. "When an eel lunges out…

"UNGAI?!" Jaune jumping up. A eel appeared and let out a roar and Jaune wasn't in his chair anymore, It being left spinning by how fast he booked it.

"That's amore!" Mario finished singing and chuckled. Get it? Amore eel? I said funny.

"Fuck you!" Jaune said from somewhere in the house.

All the immature audience members fell out of their seats in laughter while the more mature chuckled at the scene.

At the end of the day, I really shouldn't be going for all the Power star, and that's more of a technical issue, but I'm gonna bitch anyway. But despite the age, this game is still a treat to play even today. This has been Somecallmejohnny, and you guys have a Good Day.

Nora stretches and yawns. "Well, that was a nice one. Funny too! I wonder what's next?"

The end

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Lost in the Floods

To read before:  Present tense & Missing & So it begins & Level Two 

Oliver didn’t have time to look for a free parking lot, so he just stopped the car right in front of the SCPD precinct. The three officers that had gathered in front of the front entrance were looking in his direction, frowning slightly as it wasn’t actually allowed to stop a car here. The oldest of the officers already took a step towards the car, probably intending to tell the driver that it wasn’t allowed. As soon as he noticed that it was Oliver getting out of the car, he stepped back though.

“Your honor.”

Your honor. Oliver would never really get used to being called like that. He wasn’t honorable, not if you looked back into his past, so he shouldn’t be called that. It was tradition though, and he felt bad for correcting people about it.

The man nodded his head in greeting when Oliver hurried up the stairs to the doors. Oliver remembered him from the day of the earthquake that had hit Starling City a couple of days ago. Just like Oliver, Officer Timothy had been driving around the Glades to help the people that were in need the most. Together, they had found a dozen of dead bodies and helped at least twice as many people out of the wreckage they had been buried underneath.

“Officer Timothy.”

The officer seemed almost surprised that Oliver remembered his name. He probably wasn’t used that the mayor remembered the name of a simple officer. With Oliver, that was different though. He was good at remembering names and faces. He would forever do his best at remembering the people that were fighting on the frontline. They were the ones worth remembering, not the people that were sitting comfortably behind their desks while others were risking their lives.

As soon as Oliver had crossed the doorstep, he saw Dominic. He was standing at the counter, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his pants. Some colleague, a young guy that Oliver didn’t think he had ever met, a rookie maybe, was talking to him, but Oliver could see in Dominic’s face that he wasn’t really listening. He just let that colleague talk to him while he was waiting for Oliver, sparing the energy it would cost him to tell that guy to go away. There was no energy to waste. It was all needed to find Felicity.

It took a moment until Nick noticed that Oliver was there. Once he did, he brushed his colleague off with a quick excuse that Oliver didn’t understand. Patting him on the shoulder, he brushed past him and took a couple of steps towards Oliver. Instead of approaching him, he nodded towards one of the long hallways though.

Although it wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone here that Dominic was Felicity’s half-brother, they all tried not to make it too obvious. Oliver knew how important Nick’s career was to him. He loved his job, and he wanted to earn his position. It was why he hadn’t been mad when Oliver and Quentin had chosen not to make him Quentin’s successor in the office. He had known that he wasn’t ready, and he hadn’t wanted the position in charge just because of trust he had only really earned by being Felicity’s brother.

Oliver followed Nick into one of the interrogation rooms. He didn’t doubt him about it thought. They were on the same side. Felicity was the only real family Nick had after his mother had been killed by a former friend.

As soon as the door was closed behind Nick, Oliver turned around to his brother-in-law. He had a lot of reason to distrust that man’s agency as there had been a time not that long ago when he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Felicity or their family. He had wanted to live free of the blood ties his father had put on him by father not only him but Felicity too.

Despite the little time they had had to get to know each other, Oliver knew that Dominic regretted that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Felicity at first. Just like Oliver, he had been through some trauma of his own and, just like Felicity, he didn’t have the best opinion of his father. The combination of both had driven him to travel the world alone, chasing something he didn’t know what it was. Not anymore.

“There has been a raid downstairs after some shops have been robbed,” Dominic told him with lowered voice, “and one of the officers noticed an old caravan parking downstairs in the alley. A team went down. They thought that it belonged to the gang they got busted. Instead, they found Tockman.”

A caravan sounded a lot like where Tockman would set up his control center. He could move it to wherever he wanted, so he could easily be close to where he was playing his game. Although his access to tech probably allowed him to hack into the traffic surveillance and other things, but it wasn’t the same as really being present to where the chaos he had created was spreading and destroying people.

Why had he let himself be arrested though?

Oliver knew that it couldn’t be an accident that Tockman had been arrested. With his knowledge of tech, he knew how to make himself invisible, and he knew how to always keep an eye on everything that was happening around. There was something suspicious about the fact that he seemed to have missed the raid that was going on just a couple of feet away.

“I want to interrogate him.”

Maybe if it was someone else that he was talking to, Oliver would say he wanted to talk to Tockman or maybe question him. With Nick, he knew that wasn’t necessary though. He understood exactly what Oliver intended to do and if the expression in his eyes was any indication, he was feeling the same way.

“I already did that.”

Oliver formed his hands to tight fists next to his body. The nails of his fingers were digging into the palms of his hands. He was sure it was leaving red marks on her skin and maybe even thing scratches. His spine straightened, and his jaw tensed to an almost painful point.

He needed to see Tockman, and he needed to make him tell him where he had buried Felicity alive before it was too late. Only a little more of four hours were left, so there was no time to waste. He would make him tell him, even if he had to beat it out of him.

“Then I will do it again.”

Oliver’s voice was dark and sharp. He looked at Nick urgently, wanting him to understand that he wasn’t going to play the bad cop. Even though he was wearing jeans and a Henley, he would meet Tockman as the Green Arrow. He would make him talk with the skills he had learned on the island, in Hong Kong and Russia. He feared the consequences of letting Tockman get away with this more than he feared his punishment.

Why didn’t Nick understand how far Oliver was willing to go?

“Oliver.” Nick’s voice was incredibly low but all the more dangerous now, a low growl even. “I already did that.”

Only now Oliver realized how full of anger Nick’s eyes really were. There was a fire burning inside of them, one that was meant to burn down everything and everyone that got in his way. Oliver knew that expression exactly. He had seen it in his eyes too when he had looked into the mirror the last time.

Nick had put his hands on his hips when he had started speaking. Olive hadn’t noticed it before, but he caught sight of the bruised knuckles of Dominic’s hands now. His skin was cut at several spots, dried blood covering the bruises. More dried blood was spread all over his hands, but Oliver was sure that it wasn’t his.

When Oliver met Nick’s eyes this time, he knew that Nick had really done everything he could. He had wanted to know where Felicity was, and he had done everything possible to make it happen. Although it went against everything he believed in as a cop, he had used to physical violence to get that piece of information out of Tockman. He had broken all the rules there were, endangering every chance at a career he had to save Felicity because she was his family and he loved her.

“What did he say?” Oliver asked intently. “What did Tockman say?”

“Nothing.”

Oliver frowned. “Nothing? Really nothing at all?”

Nick shrugged his shoulders, his hands still on his hips. He looked exhausted and tired. Oliver knew why. It really was exhausting, beating people up, whether they were good or bad guys. The human body wasn’t necessarily made for beating the shit out of people. Still, it was nice that it allowed them to do it nonetheless.

“He said that we – all of us really, but you the most – deserved it.”

Not surprising. Tockman was blaming them or at least Felicity for not getting a chance at saying goodbye to his sister. He had risked everything for her, trying to save her from sure death by a terrible disease. He was looking for someone to blame. Since the universe – for cursing his sister with that disease – or his own actions – as none of this would have happened without his crimes – were too difficult for him to blame, he went for Oliver and Felicity. They had been responsible that the judge had been able to put him behind bars.

There was something in Nick’s face, something that told Oliver that there was more to this. He had said more, but Nick wasn’t sure if he should share it.

“What else did he say?”

Oliver could see the split second that Nick wondered if he really should tell him. He probably knew Oliver well enough by now to know that sometimes it was better to tell important things to him to someone close to him – Felicity or John mostly – first, so they could help Oliver deal with it. There was nobody here but them though, so he couldn’t call for help. He had to give this piece of information he was holding to Oliver or otherwise Oliver would beat him up. It didn’t matter that he was Oliver’s brother-in-law. If he knew something that he knew but that he refused to share, Oliver would make him tell it.

“He said the countdown didn’t matter anymore.”

Oliver pressed his teeth together tightly and sucked in a deep breath. A thousand thoughts were rushing through his brain. It could be a good thing, and it could be a bad or maybe even the worst thing. If the countdown didn’t matter anymore, Felicity could already be dead.

“He said Felicity was as good as dead.”

Oliver felt his heart drop into his stomach. Everything inside of him hurt at the thought that Felicity’s heart whose beat he had always liked to listen to as it has calmed him down enough to find some peaceful sleep. He had less likely been haunted by nightmares when he had fallen asleep with Felicity’s heartbeat in his ear.

What father would he be without her? Could he even be a father? He had barely been ready to take the job when she had told him that she was pregnant with Emmy. He had only managed to find himself into the role because had had her with him, telling him what to do and what instincts to ignore. Was he even human if he lost her?

There had been a time that Felicity had believed he was dead. She had lived through long hours of thinking she was never going to see him again and their kids were never going to see them again. She had needed to tell William that he was dead. She had prepared for telling their little ones that they were never going to see him again. It had broken her to a point that even finding him alive hadn’t been enough to repair her.

If Felicity really died, Oliver knew that he was damaged beyond repair. He would hold on for his kids as long as he had to. As soon as he realized that his kids were old enough and ready to live without his hep, he would join Felicity wherever he was. He wasn’t sure if he believed in an afterlife, and he wasn’t sure that he was going to get a chance at going to heaven where Felicity was certainly waiting for him, but he would use the chance if it was his only one. Felicity’s belief in a righteous and forgiving death just had to be enough for both of them right now.

Felicity wasn’t dead though. It was crazy, but Oliver could feel it deep inside of him. Deep in his heart, he knew that Felicity wasn’t dead yet. Maybe it was only his wishful thinking or his inability to accept this possibility, but he refused to believe that she was dead already. He still got a chance. He had to believe that.

“We need to find Felicity.”

Nick nodded his head. “I know.”

Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out some keys and lifted them in front of Oliver’s eyes. They dangled from his fingers, right in Oliver’s reach, but Oliver didn’t know how they could possibly help them. Unless those were the keys to where Felicity was hidden, what should he do with those?

“I made sure that nobody will look at the caravan for now,” Nick explained, “making it the last priority of the Crime Scene Unit.”

Oliver grabbed the keys, looking at them resting in the palm of his hand. Nick was overstepping the borders of the laws once more. He was risking his promising career once more because he wanted to find and save Felicity as much as Oliver did.

“There have to be traces there,” he continued intently, “and maybe we can’t see them, but Bruce will make them visible. We are playing against time now more than ever. We have to find her, whatever it takes.”

Oliver nodded his head, forming his hand to a tight fist around the keys. He knew Nick was right. It was them against time now. Whether it made things better or worse now, Oliver wasn’t sure.

Either way, Nick was right. They had to find Felicity, whatever it took.

 → → → → →

 “Did you talk to that bastard?”

Oliver wasn’t surprised that Bruce was the first to approach him as soon as he stepped into the bunker. His eyes were dark and just as angry as Dominic’s had been and as Oliver certainly still was. Everything about his body language screamed that he was willing to go how ever far he had to if it meant saving Felicity.

“No.” Oliver shook his head. “His attorney was present, and Captain McHall didn’t let anyone talk to him.”

While Oliver had been in the caravan, looking for anything suspicious or anything that could help them, he had called Bruce. Given his experience and skills, Oliver had been sure that he had some ideas where to look and what to look for too. Besides, Bruce needed something to do too. Oliver knew that since Felicity never got tired telling him that they are quite alike.

Bruce had asked him whether he had had a chance at talking to Tockman, so Oliver had told him what Nick had said. Although Bruce knew what Nick was capable of, it simply hadn’t been enough for him. He had wanted Oliver to try again and try harder than Nick had before him. Despite the bruises Oliver had seen on Nick’s knuckles, he had let Bruce’s words infect him.

Once he had gathered the stuff that he had thought could be useful and put it to his car, he had stepped into the precinct once more. He had looked for Dominic, but he hadn’t been able to find him. Instead, McKenna had stepped towards him and taken him aside. She had told him that she knew something was going on although she didn’t know what it was. Since Tockman’s attorney had already been there, she hadn’t been able to give him access to him, and she had doubted that it would be a good idea anyway.

Of course Oliver knew that McKenna had been right. If he had seen Tockman, Oliver wasn’t sure if he hadn’t crossed some boundary that he would have been unable to come back from. If they found Felicity alive – and Oliver needed to be optimistic that they would – he needed to be able to look her in the eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could do that when he tortured Tockman.

“Give me the boots.”

Oliver was surprised that Bruce just dropped the subject like that. He had expected him to go at him for that because Oliver was sure that Bruce wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. He wouldn’t have cared.

“Do you think you can use the analysis of the earth in the profile to find Felicity?”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, already sitting back behind the microscope. “Possibly.”

Although he didn’t say it, Oliver knew that Bruce was mad at him. Bruce was too focused on doing his job and using his tech skills to find Felicity, but he was angry deep down nonetheless. Once this was over, he was certainly hold it against Oliver.

Sitting back against the edge of the desk, Oliver reached out his hand for the tablet that was the only connection he currently had to Felicity. His thumb was already hovering over the button to see Felicity. Instead of pressing it, he clutched the tablet to his chest and held it like the precious treasure it was to him.

As much as Oliver would love to see Felicity and talk to her just to see that she was alright, he didn’t want to come to her with bad news. She had to feel bad enough down there as it was. He wanted to offer at least a glimpse of hope. Right now, he couldn’t do that because it really wasn’t looking good.

When Bruce got up, Oliver frowned.

“Found anything yet?”

“Not really.” Bruce put the sample into a test tube and put it to one of the machines in Felicity’s working area. Pressing a couple of buttons, he got the machine going, turned around and crossed his arms in front of his chest while his eyes locked with Oliver’s. “But maybe a more professional analysis can help us.”

Oliver nodded his head. Analyses like that weren’t exactly Bruce’s strength. They had never been Felicity’s strength either. Years back, they had used to send those things into a laboratory. Given how long it could take and how fast-going their business was, Felicity had set up her own laboratory here. Thanks to Barry, it was mostly working on its own though.

Looking at Bruce more thoroughly, Oliver realized that the other man was looking at him intently and with his eyes dark.

“What?”

It was a stupid question to ask, but Oliver couldn’t help himself. Being defensive seemed smarted to him than to go into offense. Because of how similar he and Bruce were, they understood each other quite well, but they also were bound to bump heads rather sooner than later. They just shared the same impatient and hot temper. It was destined to get difficult between them.

“Why didn’t you just tell Hall to shut the fuck up about things she knew nothing about and go to Tockman and beat the crap out of him until he finally said something?”

“Nick already beat the crap out of him, and it didn’t help at all.”

It didn’t seem to be enough of an answer to Bruce. His eyes glinted, and he pressed his lips together. He was in for a fight. Oliver could see it. He wouldn’t back away from a fight. A good physical fight could clear his head better than anything else. Maybe it would offer him some new perspective on all of this.

“And you thought you couldn’t do better than Nick?”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. Bruce’s jaw tensed even more, and he straightened his spine. He really looked like he was readying himself for a fight too.

“Nick is Felicity’s brother, and I don’t doubt that he is on our side,” Bruce added eventually, “but he is a cop nonetheless. I am sure that his moral boundaries are a lot higher than yours or mine.”

Oliver doubted that, but he didn’t say a word. He just kept looking at Bruce with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his jaws clenched tightly.

“You should have gone at him and make him talk.”

Maybe a couple of weeks ago, Oliver would have agreed. Now, he wasn’t that sure anymore. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to do whatever it took to save her. It wasn’t even the consequences he himself would have to take. It was the consequences his family would have to take that made him doubt that it was the right choice.

If he tortured Tockman until he talked, Oliver wasn’t sure that he could let him stay alive. If he killed Tockman, it was certainly going to get him into prison for some long years though. Felicity and the kids would have to live without him. They would have to protect themselves without him which was difficult, at least when it came to Green Arrow’s enemies. They might have to go into witness protection.

A cold shiver ran down the length of Oliver’s spine when he remembered that this was exactly what Felicity had dreamed of during her Vertigo induced hallucination. Even when losing Felicity was the alternative, this really wasn’t a small price to pay.

Oliver glanced at the countdown. They were down to a little less than two and a half hours. It was bad, really bad. They didn’t have the slightest idea where to go to or where to look for Felicity. They didn’t even have any traces other than the things he had gathered from the caravan, but it didn’t mean that they could find out anything within the next 150 minutes.

If Tockman’s stuff wasn’t going to help them finding her, he would go to the precinct once more and punch the words out of him. He wouldn’t shy away from it, but he wanted to look Felicity in the eyes and tell her that they had done everything they could before he had crossed the limits of law like that and risked everything they had built.

“Felicity tortured that Human Target guy that impersonated you during your supposed death.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Oliver felt his muscles tensing once more. He knew how terrible his supposed death had been on Felicity, so he knew how terrible her death would be for him. He wouldn’t make it through it, not without losing everything he was and everything he believed in.

“And she suffered a lot after that.”

“You are wrong.” Bruce’s voice was tense. “She never regretted that. She always said it was a necessary mean, something that just had to be done to find you and bring you back home.”

“Yes, she said that,” Oliver agreed, “but you weren’t the one that had to held her when she was screaming and crying at night because she heard Chance’s screams of horrors echoing through her dreams.”

The time after he had come back from the dead had been hard on all of them. He and Felicity had had a lot of things to go through. Oliver had tried processing the hours of thinking that he was never get to see Felicity or his kids ever again. He had needed to get through the thoughts of all the chances he had missed and all the thoughts that had stayed unfinished. Felicity had needed to get through the grief that had been so real for her even though it had been almost unnecessary looking back. She had needed to work through her anger with the team for refusing to help her. The trauma his death and her own actions in the light of her supposed loss. They had started therapy to help them with it, and they were still going there. Once this was over, they’d probably go more often again.

“I would have gladly held her if it soothes you.”

Of course he would have. He had been into Felicity for a long time. Usually, Bruce was good at pretending that he believed Felicity was in good hands with Oliver. He had probably talked himself into believing that Felicity wasn’t only happy but really better off without him.

Those thoughts seemed to be forgotten though. Now, he believed that her life could be a lot happier and probably safer if she was with him. He wanted a chance at proving that he was better than Oliver was.

Bruce’s eyes took him in derogatorily. His gaze moved up and down Oliver’s body. His lips were pursed, and is nasal wings were blown wide. No matter how much he was rolling his shoulders, trying to make them relax, his arms and hands tensed. Oliver didn’t miss it.

“Maybe I should tell Felicity how you refused to do whatever it takes to find her when she was willing to give her soul to the devil if necessary. There was nothing she would have shied away from.”

“It still won’t make her love you if that is what you hope for.”

“Who says she is not already in love with me and just holding onto you and your pathetic, little picture-perfect family-thing you are trying to put up? I mean you son wants to study somewhere far away, and Felicity’s death it certainly going to break the rest of your family apart. She is the glue. You can never hold a family together.”

Oliver pushed his chin forward, looking at Bruce challengingly. He wanted to give Bruce a chance at taking it back. He understood that he was angry and scared. Oliver was angry and scared too. If he didn’t take this back, Oliver was going to punch the words out of him. He loved his family and even if Felicity’s death broke him – just the thought of it did already – he wouldn’t let it break his family. He didn’t know how, but he wouldn’t let it happen.

Instead of taking it back, Bruce just grinned. It was the grin of a bully that new exactly that it had hit a sore spot. He knew that he had finally said the one thing that would make Oliver bust a nut. Only thoughts of his family ever managed to do that.

“You really want me to beat the shit out of you, don’t you?”

Bruce grunted. “Like you could possibly do that. You are just as halfhearted as a vigilante as you are in everything else.”

Loosening his arms in front of his chest, Oliver pulled at the sleeves of his Henley, pulling them up his arms. He didn’t want them in the way if he broke Bruce’s nose and every other bone in his face. After her hadn’t been able to let off steam on Tockman, maybe Bruce was a good replacement. After all, he had done everything to deserve this.

“We will see.”

Bruce’s grin widened. He took off the jacket of his suit and let it drop to the floor carelessly. He opened his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

“Gladly.”

With that, the two men approached each other – fists balled and ready to fight.

 → → → → →

 She was running out of songs to sing. Her voice would certainly thank her as it had given up hours – or was it days or maybe just minutes? – ago already.

As a mother of five kids and a dog that loved to use his loud barking to make sure everyone got how frustrated he was then he didn’t get enough food or attention, Felicity had always known how to appreciate silence. Sometimes, when she had been at work particularly early, she had just sat behind her desk and enjoyed the silence.

Now, the silence was deafening and terrifying. She’d give everything to be woken up by the noises of roadworks right under her window for the rest of her life. She was never going to ask the kids to turn down the volume of the TV again. She was never going to complain about Hawk barking for several minutes straight because he didn’t get his way. She was going to enjoy even the most annoying noise.

Closing her eyes, Felicity took some deep breaths. As much as she tried to relax, it became increasingly difficult to stay hopeful and be relaxed.

Everything in her body ached. She was sure that ulcers were going to grow on her skin if she was lying like this much longer, unable to move. Then again, who knew how much longer she was going to be in here? How much longer was she going to survive in here?

Felicity tried to push that thought away. She couldn’t think like that. It was only going to suck away even more of her energy and make it incredibly hard to keep holding on for longer. She felt like she was going crazy already, but she couldn’t allow herself to go crazy. She needed to stay strong and focused. She needed to believe that she was going to be alright.

Oliver would find her. He had found her before, and he would always find her. She didn’t doubt that he would find her because he was Oliver, and Oliver wouldn’t give up. Ever.

When Felicity felt tears burning in her eyes, she quickly squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in another deep breath.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered to herself, “don’t cry, don’t cry.”

She repeated the words again and again. It wasn’t that she believed that crying was a weakness nobody should see. It was quite the opposite, and she knew how important the relief was that came with crying and letting out your sadness. If she cried now, Felicity just wasn’t sure if she ever found the ability to stop again.

It was better to spare her tears for when she had been saved. She could be crying in Oliver’s arms, pressing herself as close to him as possible while he was holding her. He would comfort her, making it at least a little bit easier for her. She wouldn’t feel this alone and this desperate when he was with her.

Still trying to hold on to the thin thread of self-control she had, Felicity felt a single tear on her cheek. She lifted her hand and brushed it away quickly. Before she had put her hand back to the ground of the coffin next to her hip, another tear dropped onto her other cheek.

It wasn’t until several drops landed on her cleavage that Felicity finally got that something was wrong here. She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were dry. The water had to come from somewhere else, but where?

Felicity looked around although she knew it was stupid. Since she had woken up, her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness at all. There wasn’t anything for her to see or at least there wasn’t anything she could see.

More and more drops of water covered her. While it had been solely on her face and cleavage at first, it soon covered all of her body and part of the ground she was lying on. Something wasn’t wrong here.

A thousand thoughts were rushing through Felicity’s head. She wondered if the time was running up and this was Tockman’s way of making sure that things ended in time. She had watched that new series with Stana Katic. Felicity couldn’t remember the name, but she did remember that the protagonist had been held captive for years until, eventually, her husband had gotten a call with her location. He had had a little time to find her alive. The glass case she had been held captive in had felt with water in the meantime.

Was this what was happening to her too now? Was her coffin filled with water until she drowned in here? Was this going to happen to her now too?

Thrumming her fists against the ceiling of the coffin, Felicity screamed from the top of her lungs. She tried to kick her feet against it too, but she could barely lift them off ground. It only frustrated her more.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut once more. With every other of her senses deafened, she was almost sure that she could smell rain, but she wasn’t sure. Her senses had betrayed her before already. She had heard things that weren’t there just because she had wanted to hear them.

“Focus.” Felicity took a deep breath and released the air through her nose slowly. “Focus.”

Once her heartbeat had calmed down a little, she took in another deep breath through her nose. The smell was still there.

“Focus harder.”

Felicity imagined the smells of all the good food Oliver was going to make for her when she came back from this nightmare.  Her memory was so vivid that it felt like it was real. She could almost taste the food on her tongue.

Again, Felicity took in a deep breath through her nose. The smell was definitely still there, so maybe she had been wrong. Maybe, for once, this was real.

“Oliver, I think-“

Felicity stopped, remembering that Oliver couldn’t hear her. He could only hear her when he was the one reaching out for her. Since he knew that the light hurt on her skin, he was probably doing his best not to contact her too often. As long as their time wasn’t running up, he probably thought that she was somewhat safe where she was.

He wouldn’t check on her until he had news or time was running up, and he needed her advice too much to resist the urge to see her.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut once more and started praying. She prayed that Oliver would contact her – whether it was for good news or bad news. He just needed to contact her, so she could tell him what was happening here.

“Oliver, please.”

 → → → → →

 Oliver had already lunged out his fist, about to punch Bruce until he took back every single one of the words he had said before. Bruce had held his face out for Oliver’s fist, ready to be punched. Right before his fist could hit his face, the alarming sound from the computers made him stop.

“What is that?”

“The analysis of the ground came back with some conspicuity.”

Bruce shot Oliver another brief glance. Although their eyes locked for barely longer than a second, Oliver realized something his angers had made him miss before. Bruce had wanted to be hit. He had provoked this on purpose, probably thinking that getting hit was going to distract him from the pain of fearing that Felicity was dead.

Just like Oliver had hoped punching Bruce was going to help him with the same thing.

Although both of them needed the feeling of being alive again, the need to save Felicity and find her alive was more important. It was all they really wanted, all they really needed.

With large and quick steps, Bruce hurried over to the desk. His fingers danced over the keyboard of Felicity’s computers to call up the results of the analysis and specify these results. The frown that formed on his forehead told Oliver that there was something that might either help them or lead them in the wrong direction. Either way, there were some traces to follow which meant that there was something to do for them. They didn’t have to let out their frustration on each other.

“What is it?”

Oliver stepped closer to Bruce, looking over his shoulder. Whatever was displayed on the monitor, Oliver didn’t get it though. Felicity had her own system of having results displayed. Bruce probably got it as he and Felicity were thinking alike, but Oliver had no idea.

“There are some particles in the samples we took that can only be found in ten locations around here.” Bruce didn’t even look at Oliver, continuing to work his way through more and more data that he called up. “If we can narrow this down, maybe we will find Felicity.”

Ten locations. They had six active members of the team available right now, including Bruce. Thea wasn’t an option. They could call in Quentin though, and McKenna was certainly going to help too if Oliver told her what had happened. That meant they only needed two people more. Maybe with Barry’s help they could do this. As a speedster, he was easily going to be here in seconds, and he could bring help with him.

“You should tell Felicity.”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows, surprised about Bruce’s suggestion. So far, he had done his best to prevent Oliver from looking at Felicity or talking to her too much, reminding him of the pain she was going through. If he thought that this was a good occasion to contact her, it had to be. It also meant that they were close to find her which was something Oliver couldn’t estimate objectively anymore.

Not wasting a second, Oliver grabbed the tablet and pushed the button to finally see Felicity again. He wasn’t sure when they had spent this much time apart, never mind when they hadn’t gotten a chance at looking or speaking to one another. He couldn’t wait to see her again and hear her voice. He needed to know that she was okay and-

“Felicity?”

The moment he saw he face with her eyes screwed shut and a frantic whisper coming from her lips, Oliver knew something was wrong. He knew Felicity’s face too well to miss that that there was something going on. His heart skipped a beat, panic spreading in every cell of his body.

“Felicity, are you alright?”

A sob of relief fell from Felicity’s lips. Her gaze moved from right to left and back again like she was looking for him. Oliver wished that he was there with her, so he could hold her and make her focus on him and only him.

“I am here,” he whispered to her soothingly, “I am here, and I will be with you soon.”

“Oliver, it’s raining.”

“What?” Oliver frowned, now quite getting what exactly she was talking about. “What-“

“It’s raining, and it’s leaking.”

“What’s leaking?”

“The coffin.” Felicity took in a breath that told Oliver how nervous she was. “The water is gathering in here.”

Since Oliver had put his phone on speaker, Bruce had been able to hear everything Felicity had said. From the moment he had heard that it was raining, he had worked on trying to narrow down the number of locations.

“I think I have got her,” he said, not looking at Oliver, “because there is rain in only one of those ten locations rights now.”

They had her. They might actually have her!

“There are heavy rains,” he continued, his voice lowered to make sure Felicity didn’t hear him, “and we might be too late.”

Oliver didn’t want to think about that. For the first time, they had a real hint at where Felicity was. There was no way that he was going to take that hope away from him – or Felicity for that matter.

“We have some traces,” he told her, “we have some traces, and we are on your way to you already. I will be there. Just hold on some more minutes, and I will be there. I promise.”

He promised, and there was no way he was going to break that promise.

* * *

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[feuillytheflorist]

the tomgreg coffee shop au i gave up on

i had good intentions but i’ll never finish this so i’m sharing it here. the unfinished coffee shop au that runs parallel to early season one where greg works at a fancy coffee shop instead of waystar (@@van1lla-v1lla1n & anybody else feel free to take any of this and put it in ur own shit! or pretend u never saw it)

The coffee shop downtown was full of uptight business men and women.

They came off Wall Street, out of the offices downtown and in the Financial District, and ordered either black coffee or fancy lattes and espressos-- it was a tossup, usually, Greg had found, though he and his co workers kept a running tab in the back of the orders.

(Greg didn’t know why they couldn’t make black coffee in their offices, but he supposed if you made a lot of money, five bucks for a large coffee didn’t matter.)

Most of them ordered while on the phone. One time a stern looking woman in a grey suit had been firing someone while she ordered a peppermint tea, a combination Greg laughed about afterwards.

He supposed it was good that they weren’t a chain cafe. Those places probably got the <i>really</i> angry people, who threw coffee back at you if it was wrong. The worst that had ever happened on one of Greg’s shifts was a middle aged man had taken a sip of his drink, made direct eye contact with Greg, and said it was the wrong drink, only for Greg to confirm that it wasn’t even his in the first place.

But hey, he wasn’t complaining. The place paid well enough, he got free coffee on his days off, and during the working hours, the clientele was mostly tourists and families.

Greg liked it most when the kids came in and he always somehow managed to have a screwed up cookie or some other snack that they were just going to throw away anyway. It made the kids smile, and the particularly hassled parents were usually thankful.

It was a break from the suits anyway.

Greg knew the regulars easily. He worked almost the same hours every week. Knew that the CFO of that accounting firm three blocks away was a tall blonde woman named Samantha who ordered an Americano every time unless she was especially stressed, because then she ordered tea and heaped sugar into it. One of the big name traders-- Greg didn’t know much else, was an older man named Matthew who was the only one who orderer hot chocolate all year round.

This man was new.

In general, it was fun to point out the customers you thought were attractive. He was sure it was a common occurrence, across countless coffee shops, in countless cities worldwide. Dani, the college student who worked Thursday morning with Greg thought that the daughter who sometimes came in with her banker father was cute, while Thomas, Greg’s Monday afternoon co worker had a thing for the red haired girl who studied there Monday mornings.

“So,” Dani leaned against the counter while Greg made the new man’s drink-- Tom, was the name he had given, and the name that was turning around in his head, “Are like, white collar forty year olds your type?”

“What?” She smiled, and twisted a braid around her finger, “Mr. Wall Street over there, in the fucking suspenders.” “Oh,” Greg frowned and topped off the latte. He wouldn’t have pinned Tom as a latte drinker, and he wondered if this was a regular drink for him, “What?”

She rolled her eyes, “He’s hot I guess, in a Dad kind of way.” “Hated that a little bit,” he put the lid on the cup, and returned to the counter. Tom looked up from his phone, where he’d been furiously texting for the past several minutes, “Here you go.” “Thanks,” he took the cup and then took a sip. Greg noticed this was common. They always took a sip before leaving the counter. Greg was <i>pretty</i> sure it was so they’d have easy access back in case it was wrong. Rich people were always eager to find something to complain about,

Greg smiled-- customer service smile, as Thomas called it, “you’re welcome. Come back soon.” Tom smiled back, a tight smile that people always gave them in response. He heard Dani laugh behind him, and when he turned she was looking at him, arms crossed. “Pathetic. Are you going to sleep with him?” “<i>What?</i>”

She laughed again, and returned to the register. Greg shrugged, and returned to the back, where he was supposed to be taking stock before the lunchtime rush really started.

In general, dating was off the table. Greg’s life was way too precarious to think about letting another person in to it, and besides, fantasizing about a customer you saw once and would possibly never see again was a fun thing to do occasionally, but was a waste of time. And <i>sure</i> he had thought Tom was attractive, but he thought plenty of people were attractive, this one was just obvious to Dani who happened to be watching him. It’d be fun to think about him when he walked in, but in general, unrealistic.

Greg put the thoughts of Tom the executive at the unknown location out of his mind, and focused on not losing track of his counting.

***

Evidently lattes were Tom’s thing because that’s what he stuck with whenever he came in.

“Suspenders is here for you,” Dani said, a week later, “He says you’re the only one that can make his fucking coffee. You better take care of this before I flip.” “Oh,” Greg frowned, “Uh, sure. You want to finish this order.” She nodded, “Anything to get away from him. He’s fucking annoying.” Greg shrugged, and went out front, where Tom was waiting at the cash register. Thankfully there wasn’t a line behind him that he was holding up-- people did that all the time and Greg was pretty sure it was eventually going to cause a riot.

“There you are, talented Mr. Greg,” he smiled, “You know I came here on Friday and you were absent? My latte was not as good.” “Oh yeah I’m off on Fridays,” Greg said, typing in the order. He didn’t bother waiting for Tom to actually tell him. He’d memorized it at this point, “Would you like anything else?” Tom shook his head, “No.”

“Four fifty,” Greg said, more out of habit than anything else, and Tom handed over his card. That was something else white collar people always did. Put everything on their card. Greg had only recently been allowed to use his card again, after it had been overdrawn for… several months, “It’ll be ready in five or so.” “I know,” Tom smiled tightly, “I’ve been up all fucking night. How much caffeine is in lattes, do you know?”

“Uh no,” Greg reached for a cup, “But like, if you want, I can add an extra shot of espresso. On the house.” “Would you?” “Sure,” Greg smiled, “You look pretty tired.” “My uh, future father in law is ill,” he said, “It’s been kind of a hectic time. I only just started a new job in addition to that.” “Oh I’m sorry to hear that, about your father in law,” Greg said. He felt a jab of <i>something</i> at the mention of a father in law, but shoved it away. It was unsurprising, and he had no Goddamn right to be anything about it. But it was like when you found out a celebrity you had a crush on was engaged. There hadn’t been any hope to begin with, but the part of you that liked to dream big was still upset at the loss, “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Thanks,” Tom smiled tightly, and the conversation fell quiet. Greg went to make the drink. Tom returned to his phone.

***

“I’m going to need the biggest size you’ve got,” Tom said, before Greg could even open his mouth to ask how his morning was going, “I’m in deep, deep shit.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Greg replied. He didn’t understand the world of economics and business very well, but that couldn’t be very good regardless. He was pretty sure Tom worked in an office, not on Wall Street, but he still didn’t know what company he worked for. Tom kept his personal information vague and infrequent.

“Yeah,” Tom ran a hand over his face, “Yeah.”

“Like, do you know what you’re gonna do?” Greg asked, ringing up the order.

“Not a fucking clue,” Tom frowned, “It’s bad.”

“Is your father in law feeling better?” Greg asked. He knew it was risky topic. Maybe the man had fucking died, and it would just make things worse.

“Uh huh,” Tom said absentmindedly.

“Yeah my great uncle was sick for a little bit,” Greg said. His mother had called to tell him such, but he’d already seen the news, “But like, we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” Tom squinted at him, like he was trying to figure out why, exactly, Greg had said that. And in reality, Greg wasn’t sure why. Sometimes he just said things.

“Right,” Tom said, “Coffee?” “Oh sorry. One second.”

*** “You finally came out for drinks!” Thomas exclaimed when Greg slinked over to the bar. Greg liked Thomas because he didn’t put up with shit from any of the customers. He was in law school uptown, and came from California originally and Greg thought he was nice, if a little intense. That was probably the lawyer side of him.

“Yeah I finally paid off my credit card debt so,” Greg shouted back. It was a loud bar, the floor was a little sticky under his feet, and he felt exceptionally large all of the sudden, the crowd pressing against him from almost every direction.

Dani laughed, and slapped his shoulder, “Greg’s just sad because his executive boyfriend is getting married.” “What?” Henrietta, Dani’s roommate who worked at the diner a block away from the coffee shop called back, “Greg you have an executive boyfriend?” “No like,” he shook his head. It was too hard to hear in here, and he knew Dani was just joking, but he didn’t want that kind of false information getting out, “He’s a regular at the shop. Dani thinks I think he’s hot.” “He is kind of hot,” Thomas said, “I mean, objectively.” “He’s engaged,” Dani explained, shaking her head dramatically, “It’s not meant to be.” “You could be his mistress,” Thomas offered. The bartender brought over drinks and Greg took whatever they’d ordered for him, “I bet rich people treat their mistresses, like, really well.” “Mm,” Dani nodded, “I bet so.” “Yeah maybe,” he took a long sip. It burned a little, but anything to get out of talking about this.”

*** On Saturdays, Greg didn’t work until the afternoon. A cursory glance at Twitter the next morning told him two things.

The first was that Tom worked for Waystar, his Uncle Logan’s company. He knew all about Waystar because his grandfather hated it with the passion of a thousand suns-- that’s how Greg saw it anyway. He knew this because several articles had been published about the RECNY Ball, which Tom attended with his fiancée, Shiv.

That was the second thing Greg found out. Tom was engaged to his cousin. They weren’t first cousins. Greg wasn’t much into genealogy, but it was like a cousin removed or something. They’d never been close growing up. His mother kept them on the Christmas card list, but Greg hadn’t seen any of the Roys in several years. Even when he’d come to New York City, they ran in such different social circles that they hadn’t seen each other.

Much to his mother’s disappointment. She still thought he’d somehow be able to secure a job at Waystar with his half Roy bloodline, but he’d hardly had the opportunity.

And now there was this. It was really six degrees of fucking seperation wasn’t it?

***

Greg drove up to Canada for Thanksgiving. His Grandfather had agreed to go to Logan’s for the holiday. Much to everyone’s surprise, Greg was sure. His mother had informed him Marcia said he could go. Greg thought that was bound to be a fun revelation for all involved.

“Cousin uh, Craig,” Logan had said, motioning vaguely to Greg standing next to his Grandfather. Ewan frowned.

“It’s <i>Greg</i> isn’t it?” Shiv said, “Cousin Greg?” “Uh yeah,” Greg replied. A cursory glance said Tom wasn’t there, not yet at least. He wondered where he was, then decided he shouldn’t be wondering it.

“We’re glad to have you,” Marcia-- actually he assumed it was Marcia, they’d never met-- said. Her accent was French maybe, he thought, “Both of you.”

“Well no shit,” Tom said, when he arrived, an hour or so later, “Cousin Greg is my barista.” “Really?” Shiv said, looking between the two of them, “Greg’s the one that makes you those lattes?” “Small fucking world,” Tom smiled, and clapped Greg on the shoulder, “Family huh?”

“Ha yeah.”

***

There was a week Tom didn’t show up at all. Dani called him Romeo and lamented over a love that was never meant to be. Greg laughed, told her she didn’t know the half of it.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Come away with me

Commission for @cancerjournalsfortwentysmthings ! I’m so sorry this took so long, it’s past 5k words now. I hope it’s worth the wait!

If you would like to commission me, my info is in my about page!

CW: ableism, psychological abuse

~

The alcohol burned, but not as bad as the tears in his eyes.

Charles wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore; something about love, something about loneliness, something about fearing death. All he knew was that finally, someone was listening to him.

Erik sat beside him quietly, listening, watching Charles. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol at all that night. He hadn’t been at the reunion, either. The class reunion—where everyone had brought their partners, or kids, or both, or stories of their adult dating. Charles hadn’t dated in six years. He had never married. He was falling behind and that frightened him.

“I’m gonna die alone,” he sobbed, “I’m gonna die alone and everyone is going to pity me and n-no one will care.”

Erik touched his shoulder softly. “That’s not true,” he said firmly. “Raven and I will care. Your students will care. Your son will care. And we won’t pity you just because you don’t have a partner.”

“I’m almost forty, Erik!” Charles burst out, looking at him and almost sobbing again. “No one will want me when I’m old!”

“Forty isn’t old,” Erik replied sharply. “You’re being an alarmist, Charles.” He paused, frowning in the way that meant he was thinking hard. Then he said, a little more gently, “Hey. You’re gonna have summer break from university, right? Why don’t you go somewhere nice? Like an actual vacation, not just shutting yourself away in your apartment for three months straight.”

“I… I don’t know where I would go,” Charles said, a little startled at how much the idea intrigued him. Just… get away. Hide somewhere safe. Maybe not for longer than two weeks, but definitely for a long time. It would have to be somewhere accessible; he couldn’t travel without his chair. That narrowed things down considerably.

“I’ll look for something,” Erik said firmly, and ran his fingers through Charles’ hair. “Just try to get through the last week of classes. You’ll be okay.”

Charles had no reason to believe Erik about being okay, but if Erik helped him look for something, Erik would find it. He was just wonderful like that.

Charles swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright,” he whispered.

~

The hangover was worse than he’d had in years. Charles grimaced and reached blindly for the glass of water he always left on his nightstand, and… encountered nothing. Fuck. He probably forgot after Erik left. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around his room, eyes still blurred from sleep.

Everything was perfectly in place. Everything was normal. Except for the fact that Erik was sitting in his armchair, slouched and  with his head propped on his hand, fast asleep.

Charles stared at him for a long moment. He rarely got to anymore. They were both busy, or with friends, or Erik would notice and Charles would have to think of a lie quickly. Erik was extremely handsome and Charles hardly ever got to admire that for long.

It wasn’t just his looks, though; he always denied it, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, mostly from laughing; the lines around his mouth, some from smiling, most from his default grim state; and when he slept, his expressions were so free. Right now, he was having a nice dream—his brow was relaxed and his mouth curled up at the corners and his jaw was unclenched.

Charles felt the usual urge to touch him, perhaps kiss him. They hadn’t kissed since they were twenty-three, though. They’d moved on from such childish feelings.

Erik looked so peaceful. Charles wanted to cry.

Instead of crying, though, Charles got to work wiggling his way towards his chair. He still wasn’t the best at getting out of bed in the morning, but that hardly mattered; he’d been living alone for twenty years, he didn’t need to get up perfectly.

Erik woke up as soon as Charles got his feet placed right on the rest and straightened to grab his wheels. The taller man rubbed his eyes and grunted, “What time is it?”

“Six in the morning,” Charles replied. “Ah. Shouldn’t you have gone home?”

Erik shook his head. “No one waiting, might as well stay where I’m useful,” he answered. There was no pain in his tone or face, but Charles’ throat still caught. The divorce had been painful for everyone, but most of all for Erik and Magda. Charles had never gotten the full story of why they had broken up when they had been so very in love, and he didn’t really want to; it wasn’t his place to pry.

So instead, he said, “Right. Well… I’m going to get ready for work.”

Erik’s eyebrows snapped together. “You look like shit,” he said sharply. “How are you going to work with a hangover that bad?”

“It’s not the worst I’ve had,” Charles replied, fidgeting a little in embarrassment. “I can work.”

Erik continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed, inspecting his face. Then Erik stood, and said, “Fine. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Alright,” Charles said, a little weakly.

A shower was taken, a toilet was used, and Charles brushed his teeth before wheeling out of the bathroom and heading for the kitchen. The headache was worse, so bad he almost couldn’t see. Ah, well, he’d gone through studying for his PhD with worse pain. It wasn’t that bad.

Except then he vomited all over his knees and feet and sat in the middle of the hall, stunned, unable to drag his brain out of misery to realize what had happened.

“Ah, fuck,” Erik muttered, hurrying towards him. “Right, you’re not going to work.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Charles, please shut up.”

So Charles did.

Somehow, Charles ended up tucked in on the couch with water, aspirin, and toast at the ready. He was rather bewildered about why Erik was doing this for him. It grated on his nerves, being fussed at like an invalid, but… Erik’s attention was nice. Charles liked it.

The day passed slowly, but calmly. Charles napped a lot. Erik seemed content to shove glasses of water into his hands and read Charles’ books. Lunch and dinner were simple, but much tastier than anything Charles could cook for himself.

Around 8PM, Erik sat on the footstool beside Charles and shoved his laptop into Charles’ hands. “Found a place,” he said. “It’s pretty remote, and the lease is for three months, no shorter, but it’s accessible and has a great view.”

“Thank you,” Charles said, looking through the pictures. They were… honestly quite beautiful. The house itself was a bit small, but it had two bedrooms, a full bathroom with plumbing, a generator for electricity, a mostly modern kitchen, and a fireplace. The amenities listed said that deliveries of basic needs arrived every Saturday. There was a small town only about twenty minutes away, but the “road” was cobblestone, and Charles did not fancy traversing that more than once.

It had a lovely garden, too, and access to a private beach. It was perfect for hiding from the world.

Charles pursed his lips, thinking. He really did want to hide… but did he want that because the idea of being alone was nice, or because he was bitter? Did he want to go here to rest, or to make people feel bad and contact him out of obligation? Did it really matter? He wanted to hide. He wanted to cry alone, in a place where no one would hear. He wanted a change a scene.

He wanted to get away from Erik.

That thought was… nasty. Selfish. But it was true. Charles’ gut clenched, but he forced himself to look up at Erik, smile, and say, “It truly is lovely. Thank you for finding it.”

Erik nodded, looking satisfied, and stood. “Book it for two people,” he said firmly. “I’ll come with you.”

Alarm thrilled through Charles. “You don’t have to, really, you don’t—”

“I want to.”

Charles shut his mouth, stunned. Erik just picked up his laptop and set it on the coffee table. “It’s late,” Erik noted, frowning at the clock. “Are you tired?”

“Not really,” Charles answered softly.

“Alright. I’m going to bed.” Erik took a step towards Charles, stopped short, frowned, then shrugged and walked away, to the guest room.

Charles sat very still on the couch for a long time.

~

Erik insisted on carrying their bags, which was exasperating to no end, but, well, at least Charles didn’t have to use that cheap bag he’d bought to hang on the back of his chair.

There was a bit of trouble when the airport pretended they didn’t have his requirements on file, and then the flight attendant told Charles he wasn’t allowed to sit in the disabled seats because they were close to the door. Erik snarled and the flight attendant backed down. Charles was pissed enough to not care.

The plane ride was rather long, but Charles passed the time by reading some research papers that he had downloaded to his laptop as PDFs. They were engrossing enough that he didn’t even notice that when the snack cart came around, the flight attendant gave him a juice box and a bag of goldfish crackers, instead of asking what he would prefer. When he did notice, it was too late to complain, so he scowled and kept reading, ignoring the juice and crackers.

The next thing to do after they exited the plane, reclaimed Charles’ chair, and swept past the annoyed looks of the other passengers, was to find somewhere to sleep. Erik had engaged a night at a motel near the middle of the large town, and thankfully, it was on the ground floor.

As they prepared for sleep, Charles remembered something, and smiled.

“What are you laughing at?” Erik asked irritably as he set a cup of water on the side of the nightstand closest to Charles.

“Oh—I wasn’t laughing,” Charles assured him. “I was just remembering that roadtrip we took about fifteen years ago. Remember how we went to the coast in Washington state and the motel had the exact same wallpaper, only with shag rugs hung all over to hide the water damage?”

Erik snorted and shook his head. “And then the ceiling in the bathroom broke and you got knocked down by a naked, soapy grandma. I remember.”

“At least they gave us our money back.”

“Yeah, after she and her husband threatened to sue the motel and you mentioned that you had a family attorney who was good with lawsuits.”

“What can I say, I was pissed.”

Erik smirked, and opened his mouth to say something, and then decided not to. His frown returned. “We should sleep,” he said abruptly, and flopped on his bed. “Good night, Charles.”

Charles, flabbergasted, stared at him for a moment, then said, “Good night, Erik.”

~

The house was even more delightful up close. Charles was charmed immediately, and the realtor handed over the keys with a big smile.

The first day was unpacking and settling in. The sun was sinking, gilding the ocean waves with gold and turning the shadows of the water purple and green. It was beautiful sight. Charles spent half an hour just looking out the window at the sea, entranced.

A snort brought him back to his body, and he turned to see Erik looking at him with a wryly amused expression. “What?” Charles asked.

“I haven’t seen you that engrossed in just looking at something in ten years,” Erik replied. “You usually have something in your hands, or you’re reading.”

Charles blushed and ran his hand through his hair. “I haven’t really had a chance to just look at something, without having to do anything else,” he admitted. “This is… nice.”

Erik’s face made a strange expression, and he swallowed hard. “Good,” he said gruffly, and turned back to making dinner from the provisions they’d brought.

Quiet and darkness swathed the island not too long after dinner. Charles got into the rather lumpy mattress and let the sounds of the ocean and the wind draw him into that empty space he so often had trouble getting to. This really was nice. He sighed contentedly and fell asleep gently, easily.

~

The next morning, he woke up to pale golden sunshine and the smell of pancakes.

He yawned, sat up, and looked around blearily. He hadn’t noticed last night, but the walls were painted in swirls of blue—shades of paint that were so similar in saturation and tone that it was hard to pick out without such bright light. Charles smiled, oddly cheered by this. Small, beautiful details.

For some reason he thought of Erik’s eyes, shifting shades of blue and grey.

He shook his head and got out of bed, wheeling himself out to the large room that had no walls between kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. Erik was making pancakes and frying sausage patties, humming to himself and not realizing Charles was there. Charles watched him for a moment, his chest aching with the shivering joy of being near Erik and the dread of what might happen if he told Erik about his love. It would be terrible to say anything. But he wasn’t sure he could survive such close quarters without letting it slip.

He would just have to try, then.

Charles cleared his throat, and Erik jumped and spun. “Damn it, Charles, make noise or something,” Erik snapped, scowling hard. “How many pancakes do you want?”

Charles smiled. “Three is enough, thank you.”

Breakfast was nice, and Charles listened to Erik’s humming with a smile. He’d forgotten that Erik hummed his favorite songs when he was happy with his food. He recognized all the tunes, though; it hadn’t been that long since they’d been roommates.

Ten years. Charles’ smile faded, and he stuffed another piece of pancake in his mouth. Ten years of steadily drifting apart. He didn’t even know why Erik had come when Charles had called, the night of the reunion. They hadn’t spoken in six months.

But here they were. On vacation together, like when they were young and stupid and impulsive. Charles wondered if this would end horribly, or if they could still be friends. The corners of his mouth turned down, and he sipped his grape juice with no sense of enjoyment.

“Hmph,” Erik said, swallowing his last mouthful. “You better not be making any stupid decisions.”

“How would you know if I was making any decisions?” Charles objected, lifting his head to glower at Erik.

Erik pointed his fork at Charles and replied, “You always make that face when you’re torn about something. And the face you’re making right now is exactly how you look every time I call you out.” Erik’s mouth began to curl up at the corners, and his eyes crinkled a little. “And now you’re embarrassed,” he taunted. “Don’t lie.”

Charles covered his face with his hands, cheeks burning, and Erik laughed.

The whole day was like that. They went down to the beach after lunch, and Erik started loudly singing the British national anthem and cackled when Charles threw a seashell at him. Then Charles started singing “Part Of Your World” from The Little Mermaid, and Erik lunged and pinched his cheeks, stretching them out so he couldn’t sing properly, and then Charles was laughing too.

Going back inside, Erik folded a paper airplane and they played that game they made up in university: whoever had the plane had to make up the most ridiculous fact they could, and then when the other person had the plane they had to refute the fact in the most obnoxious way possible. They spent several hours doing that, throwing the plane across the room and having a stupid debate about penguin social structures. They were both smiling by the time night fell.

The next day dawned grey and chilly. Charles got out a book, and then pulled out another and offered it to Erik.

“Here,” he said, “I know you were interested in this one.”

Erik blinked at him, then accepted the book. “I haven’t read this journal in eight years,” he said slowly, beginning to frown. “It’s university exclusive.”

“Exactly. I, ah, borrowed that one when no one was looking, because...” Charles trailed off, looking up at Erik’s frown. “Do you not want to read it?” he asked, beginning to feel tight with anxiety.

Erik looked up at him, apparently surprised. “I do want to,” he said. “I just—don’t know how you remembered.”

Charles shrugged, blushing. “I’ve never met anyone else so interested in the same journals as me,” he said uncomfortably. “It stuck with me, is all.”

Erik was silent for a moment. Then he reached out and bopped the top of Charles’ head with the journal, just like he did when they were younger. “Alright,” he said, and sat on the couch next to Charles.

The first week passed easily; Charles found that close contact with Erik reawakened, not just his romantic nature, but all the memories of the things that made them friends. All of Erik’s charming habits, all of his annoying actions, it reminded Charles of how they had dealt with each other in the past. Instead of endless compromise, there were arguments that never ended, but were not painful or infuriating. Instead of listening to silence because they hated each other’s music, they annoyed each other endlessly by blasting their songs on the other’s phone through Bluetooth. Erik tackled Charles into the couch cushions and put him in a headlock for playing Depeche Mode.

Instead of surface pleasantries, they would sit up until 1AM talking about all the things they could never tell anyone else. Instead of bitterly complaining about the world, they talked about all the beauty they’d seen in the past few years.

Charles went to bed every night strangely content, and woke up every morning ready to begin another day of calm, and quiet, and companionship.

The problems started when Raven called him.

They were in the middle of the Plane Game, arguing about the shape and size of the average plesiosaur’s testicles, when Charles’ phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, perked up, and answered immediately. “Raven! Hello!”

“Charles, it’s been a week,” she snapped irritably. “When are you coming home?”

Charles blinked, surprised. “I’m not sure,” he lied. “A very long while yet, I suppose. Why, is something wrong?”

“Yes, you were supposed to come to Kurt’s recital.”

Guilt bit Charles’ stomach—but so did irritation. “I was not aware I was invited to any recitals,” he said calmly. “Is it the same venue where the stage director asked me if I wanted a lollipop?”

“Well—yes, but that shouldn’t matter. Kurt wants you to come.”

Charles thought for a moment. He did love his nephew, and loved being part of his life—but he knew exactly what would happen. If he were there, Raven and Azazel would dump Kurt in his lap, ask him to watch the boy, and then wander off and not come back for an hour or two. Charles may love his nephew, but he was not capable of catching a child that fast in a public area with other adults around. If Charles went to the recital, Azazel would make cruel jokes and when Charles got upset, Raven would be mad at her brother, not her husband. If he went to the recital, he would not be comfortable or happy, no matter how well Kurt did.

“Please tell Kurt I’m sorry,” Charles said, “But I won’t be available. Thank you for telling me, though.”

“Ugh, you are so selfish, Charles! Tell me when you get back.” And Raven hung up.

Charles lowered his phone into his lap and stared at it for a moment.

“What happened?” Erik asked.

“She wants me to go to Kurt’s recital,” Charles answered without looking up. “I do hope it goes well, and I know Kurt will be spectacular, but… I don’t know. I don’t exactly like being called a cripple and when I say something Raven gets mad at me.”

“Who calls you that?” Erik demanded sharply. Charles looked up, startled, to see actual anger on Erik’s face.

“Azazel,” he replied. “He started doing it about a week after I came home from the hospital. That’s why Raven stopped helping me; she said Azazel had told her that I needed to learn independence.”

Erik’s frown deepened further. “That fucking asshole,” he growled, and grabbed his own phone.

“Erik, wait, you don’t have to—”

“Hush.”

So Charles put his face in his hands and listened in horror as Erik called Azazel and chewed him out. Apparently Azazel kept trying to justify himself, because Erik kept shutting him down. Erik was right, of course. But he didn’t have to do that.

When Erik hung up, Charles kept his face hidden. There were tears in his eyes and he felt utterly ashamed. He shouldn’t have said anything. He really shouldn’t have. Now Azazel and Raven were going to be pissed at Charles again, and Erik, and it was going to be horrible. Maybe it was a good thing they wouldn’t be back for three months.

“He did deserve that,” Erik said grumpily.

“You could have waited,” Charles croaked. “Now he’s going to tell Raven, who will call me again to yell at me for lying, and then they will both be pissed at us for even thinking that they’re wrong.”

“No they—”

Charles’ phone rang again.

He swallowed hard, took a breath, and answered. Before he could say anything, Raven said, “Fuck you, Charles. Never come near me or my family again.” And then she hung up.

Charles did not attempt to stop the tears as his hand lowered again. There was no point. There was only Erik to see. And Erik wouldn’t tell. He had promised years ago, and Charles believed him. He wouldn’t tell anyone that Charles had cried.

“I’m sorry.”

Charles turned his head to look at Erik. He was too depressed to be startled. Erik had never apologized for losing his temper on Charles’ behalf, so this was new; but Charles didn’t really care. “Sorry for what?” he asked.

Erik pressed his lips together tightly, then answered, “I’m sorry for not listening to you. You were right, I didn’t think it through. I won’t do it again.”

Charles nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Thank you, Erik.”

After a moment, Erik stood, walked over, sat beside Charles, and hugged him. Just like he used to before they broke up. Charles relaxed almost immediately. He remembered this. He remembered what it meant. He was grateful for it.

~

Over the next two weeks, Charles had to field calls from students, fellow teachers, and even his physical therapist, all of them worried about him. No one would say why. Several of them asked if he was safe, and he always said yes with a puzzled frown. Of course he was safe. He was with Erik.

Kurt called him at night once, on Raven’s phone, crying. He said Raven and Azazel were fighting and he was scared. Charles stayed on the phone with him and Erik called Emma to ask her to go over and make sure Kurt was okay. Unexpectedly, Raven wasn’t even annoyed that Kurt had called Charles; instead, she took Kurt to a hotel for the night. Erik and Charles thanked Emma, who told them it was her pleasure and they’d better not expect her to be the go-between.

Charles laid awake for hours after that, caught in a panic attack brought on by memories. He fell asleep around dawn, and slept all the way to noon.

“You alright?” Erik asked, looking worried as Charles picked at his salad.

“Yes,” Charles replied softly. “I’m fine.”

Erik made a face, then said, “It’s nice today. Let’s go to the beach.”

The beach was, indeed, quite pleasant. Charles even smiled at the glittering water, and Erik rolling up his pant legs to test the water and find shells. He snickered a little at Erik’s small yelp of “Cold! Fuck!”

Warm sun, brisk breeze, the scent of the ocean, and the realization that no one could actually come here and guilt or pressure or terrorize him, made him feel better with every breath. He wished he could touch the sand.

Erik walked over and said, “Do you want to feel the water? It’s fucking icy.”

Charles looked up at him, and grinned. “Sure, why not,” he said.

So Erik picked him up in his arms and carried him to the edge of the water, and set him down on the sand. Charles immediately put his hand in the waves and squeaked.

“Told you it was cold,” Erik said smugly, then yelped as Charles rubbed a handful of dry sand in his hair.

They stayed by the water until the light was almost gone, looking out at the ocean and talking about mermaids and sirens and other water-beings. Charles felt suitably relaxed and melancholy to say, “I used to wish Selkies would steal me from the beach when I was little. Even after Raven came. I wanted to disappear from real life. Under the ocean was the only place I could think of where no one would ever find me.”

Erik tightened his arm around Charles’ waist. “Then we wouldn’t have met,” he pointed out softly.

“Well, no. But you could’ve made better friends than me. You were popular because you were you. You would have been just fine without me.”

“Charles, that is not true.” Erik dragged Charles onto his lap, startling another squeak out of him, and grabbed his chin to make him look at Erik. He was scowling, and his eyes may have been shinier than usual. “You’re the one who got me through Shaw’s trial, remember?” he snapped. “You’re the one who helped me get into Oxford. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t trade you for any other friend in the entire goddamn world.”

Charles stared at Erik. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to kiss Erik. He was so close. And he was so supportive.

Instead, Charles rested his head on Erik’s shoulder and said softly, “Thank you. You’re my best friend too.”

“Good.”

They sat in the gathering dark and growing cold, holding on to each other tightly, and didn’t speak for a while. There was so much to say, and yet no words for any of it. Charles closed his eyes and listened to Erik’s heartbeat. It was a good sound.

“We should go back,” Erik sighed, rubbing Charles’ arm.

“Mm,” Charles hummed in reply, not making any movement to pull away.

“We’re both covered in sand.”

“Yes we are.”

“Your chair will be full of sand.”

“I know.”

“I’m starving.”

“Go without me.”

“And leave you alone by the sea after that Selkie stuff? Absolutely not.” Erik stood, cradling Charles in his arms, and returned him to his chair. Charles pouted, until Erik cupped Charles’ cheek in his hand and said sternly, “You don’t get to disappear on me again, Charles. Got it?”

“Got it,” Charles replied, and almost said that Erik looked otherworldly and breathtaking in the light of the seaside moon. Silver tracing his cheeks, glowing in his eyes, glistening in his white-streaked hair… concern and care and worry on his face. It made Charles’ chest ache. Before he could stop himself, he reached up and ran his fingertips down Erik’s jaw.

Then he remembered the situation and snatched his hand back, looking away and clearing his throat.

“We should—go,” Charles stammered, and turned his chair towards the slope up to the house.

The phone calls to “check up on him” declined sharply, and Charles enjoyed the peace. He and Erik spent a lot of time reading, or arguing, or playing chess. Moira video-called Charles to talk about classes next year, and to pass on Emma’s message that Raven and Kurt were staying with Emma for a while. Charles bit his lip, worried, then said, “Thank you, Moira. Please tell Emma I’m grateful, and Raven and Kurt that I love them.”

“Will do, Charles. By the way, did you read the university newsletter? That guest lecturer who talks about overcoming physical disability through optimism is coming by during the first semester. Do you want to come with me and we can ask him questions until he gets angry?”

Charles grinned. “Actually, Moira dear, I would love that.”

Moira laughed. “You are scary sometimes, you know that? Ah well. Anything else we should go over?”

“Not that I can think of. How are your cats?”

A few days later, Erik got a call from Azazel. He took it out to the garden. Charles bit his lip and kept playing with the interesting new fidget Alex had bought for his birthday, trying not to listen. He couldn’t even hear Erik speaking, the walls were too thick, but he thought he heard a raised voice. When Erik slammed the door coming back in, Charles flinched.

“It’s official,” Erik announced, flopping on the chair across from Charles. His face was a mix of satisfied and irritated. “Raven handed him the divorce papers this morning, and he’s blaming me.”

Charles gaped at him.

Erik ran his hand through his hair, mouth twisting in consternation. “He said it was because I—what were his words? Oh, yes, encouraged you to pit Raven against him. I swear I had no fucking clue he was that abusive.”

Charles closed his mouth and swallowed hard, then said softly, “It’s alright. I didn’t either. I thought he was just an asshole.”

Erik snorted. They were both quiet for a moment. Then Erik asked abruptly, “What do you want for dinner? We got a squash with the delivery yesterday.”

“Squash sounds lovely.”

~

On the fifth week of their stay, a storm hit.

It rattled the roof, beat against the windows, shook the earth. The rain sounded less like rain and more like small caliber bullets. The ocean roared and moaned and lightning flashed over it far too often for comfort.

Charles and Erik sat in the pantry, Erik shivering and curled up in Charles’ arms. He hated storms. He once told Charles it was because it reminded him too much of the night those nazi bastards broke into his home and—

Charles pressed his face to Erik’s sweat-spiked hair and hummed a lullaby, over and over, until the storm abated sometime after dawn. Erik still needed a few minutes to collect himself, but by the time the sun was out, shining apologetically, he was calm.

And then he had a panic attack around noon and Charles got on the floor with him and worked through it with him, until Erik was exhausted and trembling, but no longer glassy-eyed and with a clenched jaw. Charles ordered him to go sleep, and Erik did so, squeezing Charles’ shoulder in thanks. Charles chewed his lip worriedly, then shook his head and went to make himself a sandwich.

The next time there was a storm, Charles woke up to Erik crawling under his blankets with him and hiding his face in Charles’ shoulder. Nothing was said about this—but every time the wind picked up around the little house, Erik huddled against Charles, and Charles held him and tried so hard not to kiss him.

~

It was the end of the second month when Charles wheeled out of the bathroom, yawning, to see Erik dancing in the kitchen.

He had headphones on, and was listening his phone, and apparently didn’t care that the eggs were done. He looked a little bit like an elementary school kid trying to dance, except his hips were certainly smooth enough to make Charles blush. But he looked happy, and that was… wonderful. Charles just watched him, and found himself smiling. A silly dance from a silly man. It was adorable.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Of course, then Erik saw him, and almost fell down he was so startled. He ripped off his headphones and barked, “Damn it, Charles, warn me!”

“You had your music on, you wouldn’t have heard me,” Charles shot back. “You’ve gotten better at dancing.”

Erik stared at him, stunned. “Ah… I have?” Erik asked, and there was a current of disbelief and hope in his carefully neutral tone.

Charles smiled and nodded. “I remember the first time we danced around in our dorm, you were drunk and couldn’t stand straight but you were far more enthusiastic than me. You’re much better nowadays.”

“Oh.” Erik looked down at his feet, fidgeting with the headphones. Then he looked up and gave a tiny smile. “Thanks,” he said.

“Of course. Are the eggs burned?”

~

It happened so slowly that Charles didn’t even register it at first. But suddenly, in a spark of clarity, he realized that he and Erik were… growing into each other. It was so natural to sit tucked under Erik’s arm, to share a bed, to let Erik carry him into the ocean so he could feel the waves. And it was so natural to tell dumb jokes until Erik threw a pillow at him, or sing to him softly when he couldn’t sleep, or put on a show or movie that he remembered Erik liking.

Erik wasn’t as broody and quiet anymore. Charles wasn’t as scared.

Erik kissed him on their last day there.

~

It was actually quite disappointing to arrive back in New York and be swallowed up by noise and smells and lights and things moving quickly. Charles held Erik’s hand in the taxi tightly, his heart beating too fast. What would his coworkers think? What would Moira say? What about Raven, would she be angry? Then Charles looked over at Erik, who was watching him with a soft expression, and he felt a little more grounded. It didn’t matter what others thought. Erik loved him, and he loved Erik, and that was the only exchange of emotions that he should worry about on this topic.

Neither of them had said love, of course. But that’s what they had.

After dropping off all of their trunks at Charles’ apartment, Erik did some quite entertaining mouth movements before asking Charles nonchalantly, “So, got a spare room?”

“Don’t even try it,” Charles admonished. “My bed is more comfortable and you know that.”

Erik grinned. “Just wanted you to say it,” he said, and dropped a kiss on Charles’ head. “Nap time?”

Charles wove his fingers with Erik’s and chuckled. “Nap time,” he agreed.

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 3

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I ao3

    The door to his hotel room closed with a hum and a soft click of an automatic lock. This time, he did take the cab, walking back would give him way too much time to really think about what Misty had said. It made Takemura feel like a coward, running away from her like that, but he couldn't help it. If he stayed there any longer, he’d fall apart. Right in front of her, all the pieces he’s been so desperate to hold together for the last few months would disassemble and there’d be nobody to pick him back up.

    Takemura threw the heavy wool coat onto the still pristine bed, the impact creating a small sea of wrinkles on the otherwise perfectly straightened linen. The hotel he chose was no Konpeki Plaza, but it was still far from the sleazy, off the road (and off the radar) motels he had a chance to familiarize himself with during his last stay in Night City. The room, with its generic, yet tasteful decor remained perfectly impersonal, walls devoid of any stains, no blood or other fluids on the dark carpet, fresh towels handcrafted into fantastical shapes neatly tucked on the bed. The only thing that made it feel lived in was a fainting fragrance of cologne, left behind by the previous guest.

    Takemura paced around the room for a few minutes before finally setting himself on the chair in the corner of the room. Whatever he was hoping he’d achieve by going to V’s funeral, he didn’t feel it. The guilt was still there. Just a few months ago he was so convinced that he’d be able to offer her an alternative, one that so few of this world could even dream of having access to, and she declined. He didn’t understand it then, but he did now. Strangely, this realization gave way to a different thought, one that he’d been trying to push as far back into his minds as possible, with little success. It wasn’t only V that Arasaka has failed. For the first time in his life, Takemura almost felt like Arasaka had also failed him.

    He couldn't really blame the company for not having the tech that is yet to be created, or for doctors and scientists who’d only sight and shake their heads. Those six months ago it finally hit him that even Arasaka has its limits, despite their far-fetched attempts to prove otherwise. What he didn’t understand was the way he was so decisively removed from the inner circle of the Arasaka family, transferred to a city almost 700km away from Tokyo, and given a job that he wasn’t suitable to do, his knowledge steaming from experience and practice. After all, he was a soldier, not a clerk. All he wanted was to continue serving, a modest gratification for the lengths he went to in order to uncover Yorinobu’s plot. V would certainly say that he deserved more. Takemura wouldn’t dare, even within the confines of his own mind.

    After a moment of hesitation, he pulled up his comms. It was stupid. Pointless. Above all, it probably wouldn’t even work, but despite all of that, he still found himself selecting V’s number. Before he knew it, a steady melody of an awaiting call rang in his ears. At least the number hasn’t been disconnected. Yet.

    Takemura didn’t know what he was expecting, exactly. There was nobody to pick up the phone anymore, and yet he was hoping that calling V’s number this one time would make up for all the times he didn't. Takemura let out a deep sigh, gestured to end the call and soon was left with an empty screen with basic contact information. And yet, when he now looked at it, it wasn’t empty at all.

    How on Earth didn’t he notice it before? He checked the date again, unable to believe that for all the time he spent staring at this one specific entry of his long contact list, he didn’t notice this aggressively yellow icon, gleaming next to V’s icon on his interface. Was it even possible that he missed it? What was he doing a little over three months ago, anyway?

    He barely remembered, that period of his life little more than a blur. Should he even open it now? Wouldn't it merely be opening old wounds, ones that even time didn’t seem to heal? After all, Takemura doubted there was anything V could say to him that’d push him from the path he found himself walking. There was no turning back, not when he was nearing the end of it, but he still opened the voice message.

    “Hey Takemura, it’s V. Been a while, huh? You must be back home already, bathing in all that Arasaka glory. Is the local cuisine as good as you remembered? I’m still waiting for you to show me that famed real food of yours. Onigiri with...what was it again? Umeboshi? Hope I’m not butchering the nomenclature too much. Anyway, I came back to Night City, moved in with Judy shortly after. I didn’t want to rush things with her, but considering the circumstances, it just felt right. Did I even tell you about her? Met her on the job and we clicked right away. You’d like her, I’m sure.

    I’ve been doing some small jobs, mostly for friends, in between dodging Viktor like the plague, but, uh...there came a time I couldn’t do either anymore. It was Judy who practically dragged me to his clinic and then the whole carousel I’ve been so desperately running away from started rollin’. Scans, meds, all of that, at first it felt like I was back at the Arasaka clinic, except Viktor actually listened to me and gave me some fuckin’ room. He has me on a cocktail of meds that get me through the day, but honestly...I hate seeing that expression on his face every time I come see him. I know he’s tryin’ to hide it, but between you and me, he’s doing a pretty shit job.

    Anyway, enough of me talkin’...I feel that maybe we didn’t end things on the right foot that time at the clinic. I know you wanted what you think was best for me, but you know what? Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.”

    The message ended with a beep and Takemura just sat there, eyes fixed on the ground. And then he played it again. And again.

    Halfway through the third, he heard a knock on the door. One quick scan of the people behind it told him it wasn’t housekeeping, so did the urgency apparent in the way his visitors made the door shake slightly with the impact. He stood up and walked to the door, letting the thick carpet muffle his footsteps. Before opening, he grabbed a gun from his coat and tucked it behind his belt, just to be safe.

    Two men stood at the door, a familiar signature written seemingly all over them. Takemura wouldn’t say he was relieved upon seeing them, though. Not at all.

    “Can I help you with something, gentleman?” he asked, switching to Japanese, just for politeness' sake.

    “You are to come with us.” the shorter one said, eyes obscured by the blue-tinted glasses he wore.

    “That is not possible. My flight leaves soon and I am afraid I will miss it if I take any detours.”

    “Takemura-san,” the man said, a hint of a smile appearing on his otherwise expressionless face. “this is not a request. Arasaka-dono wishes to speak with you and I assure you, you wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

    He was right. Takemura wouldn’t.

    “Alright then, allow me to just grab my…”

    “That isn’t necessary. We will take care of your luggage.”

    Takemura felt his stomach drop, the same uncomfortable feeling one has when walking down the stairs and missing a step. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but instincts were often hard to fool and the man in front of him didn’t inspire any warm feelings in his heart. Not many people working at Arasaka did, but as long as he stayed in line, he felt safe. Only now, when he had crossed it, he felt how thin it truly was. And how much he’s lost his edge.

    Takemura turned back to grab his coat and put it on, but instead of bringing him comfort, the heavy material felt as if it was bringing him down. Something weird seemed to be happening with his optics too, the image glitching every few steps. He wouldn’t show it, though, walking out of the hotel with his head held high and mind racing to come up with various scenarios of how he should proceed.

    The car was parked right next to the main entrance. One of the men opened its door to let him in, but Takemura stopped abruptly, hit with an all too familiar feeling. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of cold sweat covered his brow. Takemura reached out to steady himself on the doorframe and felt one of Arasaka henchmen lean in behind him, the barrel of a gun digging into his ribs and a hand reaching for Takemura’s own weapon, still tucked behind his belt.

    “Quite a kick, right? Now, let’s not make a scene here.”

    “I thought I was to talk with Arasaka-dono.”

    “You will, but first, let us drive to a more suitable place.”

                                                                ***

    Takemura doubted that an abandoned parking lot in North Oaks is a place suitable for anything, especially a conversation, but at this point, he didn’t have much to say on the matter. Before they drove into Westbrook, his interface was completely gone and all he could rely on were his senses, devoid of the advantages implants previously gave him. Takemura could feel cyberwithrawal symptoms setting in, slowly building up into the most unpleasant crescendo. Then again, with the way his night was going, maybe he won’t live long enough to have to suffer through it.

    “What are we doing here?” Takemura asked after they all got out of the car. The driver, too, slightly older than his companions, with a steel hand obscured by a long sleeve of his coat. The place was scarcely lit, only one of the big, industrial lamps still working, providing a shaky, unreliable source of light right where they were standing, the three men next to each other, Takemura facing them from a short distance of maybe three meters.

    The driver stepped forward and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Takemura would surely feel his body tense at the sight if he wasn’t trembling so much at that point. To his surprise, the man didn’t pull out a gun to shoot him with, but a shard. Without any additional explanation, he plugged it in and his hard stare vanished, replaced by a stream of data reflecting on his eyes.

    “Takemura.” the proxy said, unintentionally mimicking Saburo’s voice.

    “Arasaka-dono.” Takemura grit his teeth and bowed to greet the men, fists clenching at his sides to stop his hands from shaking.

    “I am sure you know why you find yourself here. If it is any consolation, it is not only you that can be blamed for your current position. Hanako made a grave mistake asking you to speak to that woman. She planted a seed of doubt into your heart, one that soon grew into a weed and started eating away at your soul. There is a way to remedy that, however. You can still reclaim your honor by finishing what you started in Takamatsu. Right here, right now. There is no need for you to come back to Japan.”

    “Arasaka-dono, I…” Takemura started, but the man raised his hand, silencing him in one gesture.

    “Ishihara here will be your second, should your hand falter. I do not wish for you to suffer.” the proxy turned to the man to his left, the one with the glasses, and gave him a small nod. He stepped forward, revealing a small package he’d been holding, and placed it on the ground in front of Takemura, who immediately knew what it was. He recognized the maroon silk. As he looked back up at the three men, they didn’t move. They simply waited.

    And so Takemura kneeled, eyes fixed on the silk-wrapped sword in front of him. He leaned forward, carefully unwrapping the material until the blade laid bare, waiting for Takemura to grab its handle. Ishihara moved behind him, footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor.

    “You served the Arasaka family well through the years, but even a strong man like you is not immune to change or destructive influence. You surely understand that this is the only way.”

    Takemura did not see it like that. To go on his own terms, reconciled with his mistakes, that was the death he hoped he’d face. This felt like theatrics, a lot of effort put into making him feel like he had a choice where there was none. Takemura allowed his gaze to leave the proxy’s face and look beyond the guards, resting his eyes on the wall so densely covered with graffiti that none of it was legible. A vine crept up the stone, forcing its way into the cracked surface, destroying it even further in its primal pursuit of expansion. Below that, a pair of yellowish, feline eyes gleamed, just outside the circle of light.

    Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.

    “I do.” Takemura turned his head to the side slightly, just enough to see Ishihara standing behind him, his own sword in hand. Will he wait for Takemura to plunge the blade into his abdomen and only then make the cut? Or will he swing the weapon as soon as Takemura reaches for the wakizashi, intent clear enough in that simple gesture? He didn’t know, but Takemura wasn’t in any position to make bets.

    He leaned down and allowed his hand to reach for the wakizashi, still looking to his left. As expected, just as his fingers brushed the wooden handle of the sword, Ishihara swung his own, aiming for Takemura’s neck. The man reacted on instinct, throwing his arm to block the blade while his other hand grabbed the sword in front of him, fingers tightly closing around the handle. Takemura felt Ishihara’s powerful cut slice through skin and muscle, only stopping at the chrome reinforced bone. The blood soaked his sleeve almost instantly, splatters staining both of their faces, but Takemura grit his teeth and turned, blocking and forcefully guiding Ishihara’s blade away from himself, drastically widening the cut as he lunged forward to drive the wakizashi through the Arasaka agent’s chest. It went in with a grisly, wet sound of tearing flesh and bone. Takemura didn’t stop and turned once more, ignoring his opponent's desperate gasps, dragging Ishihara’s already limping body along, shielding himself from incoming bullets.

    The echo of shots rang wide through the empty parking lot as Takemura practically ran forward, pushing the already dead man in front of him with his full body weight. When his opponent realized he’ll have to reload soon, he took a few steps back, a glimpse of fear going through his face as he wrestled with the magazine. What it was he saw in his eyes that scared him so much, Takemura did not know, but seizing the occasion, he retracted the blade from Ishihara’s body, letting it drop onto the ground like a sack of flour, and lunged forward. Just as their bodies met, the other henchmen managed to fire, but only once before his dominant hand was sliced off in one strike, strong enough to sever the tissue and the wires that held it together. The man screamed as he saw his arm fall to the ground, but before the sound had the chance to echo off the ruined walls, it was cut short.

     Takemura could already feel his left arm lose sensation, growing weak and limp with every ounce of blood he kept losing, but it didn’t matter now, nor did the chills or the way his entire body rebelled against being cut off from augmentations so abruptly.

    The proxy didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, still standing those few meters in front of Takemura. He was armed, holster clearly visible at his hip, but he didn’t draw the gun. Takemura turned to face him, adrenaline still rushing through his veins and keeping him upright. Knowing it won’t be for much longer, Takemura made a few steps forward and stopped, weapon still in hand, his other arm hanging uselessly at his side.

    The proxy hummed.

    “An honorable death or a lifetime of shame. It greatly saddens me that you, of all people, chose wrong.”

    And just like that, the conversation was over.

    Takemura didn’t wait until the proxy fully regained awareness of his surroundings. Hardly honorable, but he doubted he could sink any lower and with the state he was in, letting the man come to his senses would almost certainly mean death.

    Cursing under his breath, Takemura went over to the agent’s bodies and patted them down, but didn’t find what he was looking for. He stood back up and turned to the car, feeling his legs grow weaker with every step. He somehow managed to drag himself onto the driver’s seat and lean to the side to open the glove compartment, throwing the bloodied wakizashi onto the passenger's seat. Dark spots obscuring his vision, Takemura was going in blind, frantically searching for the injector with his good hand. The wave of relief he felt when his blood-soaked fingers finally landed on the familiar shape was almost enough to knock him out on its own, but he forced himself to power through. Tearing off the safety lid with his teeth, he stabbed himself in the chest with it and pushed the plug.

    The effect was immediate. Another rush of adrenaline made it feel like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, it’s breathless beating throbbing in his temples, but the darkness creeping up on him disappeared. Takemura knew the effect wouldn’t last long, but he hoped it’d be enough to at least pull up a first aid kit from under the passenger's seat. When Takemura finally managed to rid himself of the coat and the jacket beneath it, he realized the extent of the damage. His arm looked bad. Really bad. If not for all the blood, he’d surely be able to see  bone and wiring, just barely keeping the limb together. His personal link was shredded, that’s for sure. The coagulants he tried using a second before clearly not working the way they were supposed to, Takemura tried bandaging his arm with one hand and somewhat succeeded, if not for the bright, red blood that soaked through the second he finished tying the knot.

    With a trembling hand, Takemura started typing in the address but found himself missing every other letter, too unsteady to hit them right, smearing blood all over the little screen. The autopilot seemed to take the hint, though, and for the first time in his life, Takemura was grateful for the existence of autocorrect. He confirmed the address and clenched his fingers around the wheel. He’ll try driving it for as long as he can, he told himself, but if he passes out on the way at least there’s a chance to roll up at the door of someone who knows what to do with the body.

    Takemura didn’t remember much of the ride, his hand half-heartedly sliding in the steering wheel, smearing the blood on the fine, fair leather. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness, head swimming with every sharp turn the car took. Eyes on the road, he kept telling himself, fingers clenching on the wheel to the point where it was almost painful.

    After what felt like ages, the car pulled up into the familiar alley and stopped, a cheery voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination. Takemura unfastened the seatbelt and almost fell onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding tripping over the edge of the car by grabbing the open door at the last moment to steady himself. He could see people around him, their terrified glances, but no one moved to help him. Those last few meters felt like a lucid, colorful dream. Takemura could hardly walk straight at that point, the world around him akin to a badly cut film. Maneki nekos waving their little, mechanical paws. Scent of incense so sharp it was almost unpleasant. Porcelain set falling to the ground, breaking into hundreds little pieces, impossible to put back together. And a beautiful carpet, no doubt woven by hand, surely only a human could put colors and patterns and threads together so beautifully. Such a waste, he thought before he finally gave in.

    Misty will never get the blood out.

[alottamoney]

Lisa anon again.Thank you for for insightful answer.But - first things first- am I not a seer or what?You saw what happened with the BP debut on weVerse.WV "mistakenly" made a technical error that basically was free promotion of BP's debut .After they apologised saying "oops!" and corrected their "mistake".In short ARMY suddenly had BP in their following tag after they made their debut.They had to go to the BP page to leave manually.This is shaping out to be a very interesting turn of events considering BTS didn't/doesn't need BP for anything,whereas bp benefits all things good from this association.Lisa has been trending non-stop since her "supposed slip up" in JK's vlive.For BTS, Nothing but money can be gained from this association.They are at a stage where they should collaborate with independent Korean artists to not only uphold them,but for self enrichment as well.

To explain about my perceived after-effect of jikook,I have to talk about a key decision that V made,which is corroborated by other members as well(Suga,Jimin). Keeping his worklife and personal life separate.He considers BTS his work life.The friends are in Wooga squad,who were like unicorn to the members.If you go back in time this change came about from Fall 2018.You can see where I am going with this.

When you think about jikook,you think about jimin.I think by now it is general consensus that bighit promoted jikook to heavily promote jimin.I don't know if I can write so much here but I am trying to provide you with the short version.I believe Taekook had disagreements about bts vs them very strongly in 2018 which was about which should they focus on more.Coupled with the fact that now they were quite openly a pair in front of the members and key company people,they were under pressure not to neglect their professional commitment.I had a hunch before that Jungkook struggled with this a lot.He confirmed it for me(supplemented by My Time and his 'all of my life' cover) when he suggested a story "The herdsmen and the weaver",which is a sad love story of two people who fell in love,but due to them neglecting their chores,were banished by the king who allowed them to see each other only once a year.The king wanted to teach them a lesson. I think bunny drowned himself with work to numb the pain.While Taehyung who didn't have as much load as bunny,wanted the opposite.Jikook comes in here because jimin's schedule is almost as full as bunny's.Here,I sincerely believe, jimin exercised some behaviour regarding Taekook's relationship,which Tae didn't like,and later the members would react negatively to it too.Jimin is a strict person regarding his work ethic.Tae is an easy going intuitive person. I think Jimin was opposed to the idea of taekook in BTS's workspace due to his aforementioned work ethic.and don't forget that jikook was ongoing too,which obviously Tae would've preferred would happen with less "intensity" shall we say.I have seen angry Tae during jikook moments and I have also seen Jimin noticing that and smirking.He didn't take it seriously but it's safe to assume that Tae was serious.It's interesting that jikook could converse and have flirty talking and Tae would be fine.But the extreme physical ones would rearrange his face. On the professional front, he was not being heard and recognized which was just a mess.

With the other members it too was easy to see.They started getting irritated with jikook for 1. BTS is not only jikook.But for a time it seemed only they were the bts.The others were just there.Jikook and co. It did not suit with other members. 2. They did not like jimin in taekook situation.I remember around that time Taekook were extremely hot and cold.And from that time(late 2018- early 2019) , vmin never seemed the same.There was a time when in interviews /place where Jikook was happening,RM and Jin would look from Tae to jikook I kid you not.It wasn't about romance.But couples are gonna fight and makeup.That's the rule of the universe.If you are picking sides in fights just remember after a while they are gonna be together and you are going to feel like shit.

Relationships that changed that you cannot deny no matter how much you look at it : 1. Suga-Jimin - Suga had a real softcorner for Jimin.Extreme is the right word.But now it is not like before.Instead Suga became extremely protective of V.

2. Jin- Jimin - I don't know what happened but again Jin has bonded with Tae for some time.Jin has had a great relationship with Jimin but now it's not reflected in their demeanor.

3. Vmin- The biggest change.They are cordial with each other.But they are not bffs no matter how much they preach it.Tae has kept Jimin outside his boundary of personal life for quite some time.They are professional so it is not apparent to the newcomers.But ARMY have seen them grow up.

I struggled with one thing.Why would Jimin not think V's anger was serious being his "bff"?I have a feeling he thought of it as silly.Not going to lie I think other members thought of it too.They couldn't put themselves in V's shoes as 1.They lacked perspective of a male who was attracted to another male. 2.They lacked serious relationship experience in general.From 2019 things changed.You can sense that the members really started giving their relationship respect.I wonder how much of it is because they have started their own serious relationships.Jin is 30,RM Hobi Suga all are way older than Vminkook.Before they used to tease Taekook and thought of them as chaotic duo,but how their attitude towards them has changed!

I also think their personal romantic relationships have taught them Tae's emotion was not a silly matter.Some things you cannot help.They also think of JK as a bit immature at times but professionally he is the mature man with excellent work ethic.I think no matter what JK does, he is soft corner of every hyung.

The members now has solo successes.They are secure.But in 2018 they were suddenly getting superstardom and they weren't ready.Insecurity about their abilities made them wary.Jikook getting the forefront most of the time was not appreciated.Jimin's overly caring attitude towards bts's future also I think pissed the members off.At 30 you want to have a relationship.Someone to go back to.You cannot be like work work all the time just slaving away.Jimin would rather taekook focus on their work more.I know each people can choose how they prioritise but taekook didn't want to abide by it. The members too.I know Jimin encouraged JK about his work a lot but there is a difference between JK and Jimin here.JK wants to be independent from BTS.Not that he doesn't want to be in bts.But he wants to sing,dance the way he wants,not because he is told to.JK is trying very very hard to be independent and establish his singer-songwriter profile and he has done a marvellous job with it.In contrast Jimin focuses on BTS as a whole.The problem is BTS is 7.6 more independent mind than Jimin. Idk what is in the future so lets wait and see.

Lisa anon😊

I thought of you when the weverse incident happened. I still stick to my opinion that a Liskook collab will not be well received by the fandoms but if it does happen then I would like to hear less of how shippers are the reason Tae and Jungkook chose not to interact with each other and how BigHit facilitated the awkward co-workers by not showing them in content.

I try not to form any concrete opinions about the BTS dynamics because like I said earlier they don't reveal much and I don't believe what celebrities say in general, they have an image to maintain after all. I do like theorizing even though I call them analysis, I don't consider them true analysis as we don't know or see enough.

I too have noticed Tae being uncomfortable during certain Jikook moments. Another one of the reasons Taekook stand out to me; why care about what your estranged bandmate does and over fanservice, which is scripted, of all things. If I'm not wrong they also rehearse fanservice so it can't be the first time he's seen it unlike the audience unless Jimin is doing impromptu stuff. He could be doing it to tease and genuinely doesn't see the problem, like you said maybe they don't consider it serious because it is different from their own experience with relationships. I don't want to assume anyone had any ulterior motives, I'm sure some of them had reservations about Taekook but not beyond a point-I'm not a fan of the hyungs know/expose Taekook trope. As much drama as Taekook can provide I'm sure they had their own personal problems to deal with.

I think the problem with vminkook and to an extent the rest of BTS is that they started off at the same point of familiarity and Taekook suddenly getting “closer” might also make Jimin and the others feel left out or annoyed. For the same reason, it's possible Jimin doesn't even think he's breeching any boundaries, I don't know if that makes sense. I'm sure and like you also pointed out that most of them seem to have outgrown that.

I admit I haven't paid much attention to Jimin and Yoongi's relationship but everyone I talk to agrees that Yoongi has a soft spot for Jimin and some who have access to Korean side say that Jimin is mostly seen with Jin and Yoongi outside of work and not with Jungkook which is the popular perception. So maybe they were able to move past it. 

I agree about vmin. I never really gave importance to the soulmates/bff narratives. I consider these things part of fanservice and their stage personas much like Tae fanboying over Yoongi and Hobi, Jungkook saying Namjoon is his role model, or even Jungkook saying Tae brought him out of his shell. These might not be outright lies just one-liners that make it easier for fans and for themselves. The interesting thing about vmin is that no one needs much to believe that they're bffs (even vmin shippers seem to ship them as bffs lol) No one cares that they aren't spotted together, no one is out to debunk them because their dynamics changed, and no one is upset even when they interact. Very few popular ships are as non-contentious as vmin. If I had to pick a pair that did "drift apart" then I'd pick vmin (they still seem close all said and done). Pinpointing Jikook as the cause seems too easy. Tae and Jimin seem like people who don't have much in common that could be a reason.

In terms of Tae and Jikook: Apart from the company endorsement which may have inturn promoted Jimin. I don't blame Jimin completely for what Jikook brought about. Jungkook was an equal participant in the early years of Jikook. Again "blame" is a strong word as we don't know the exact status of Taekook's relationship around the time Jikook was being promoted. I don't think Jikook do anything over-the-top, just standard kpop fanservice with the difference being that BTS is hugely popular with an international audience who might not be exposed to this type of fanservice. I don't think Jikook are attracted to each other, nothing they have said or done makes me think otherwise. Tae's discomfort seems to be disproportionate to all the possible reasons we have listed so far and he seems fine when Jungkook does fanservice with other members, he himself seems fine indulging in fanservice. Some say Jungkook isn’t too fond of Taejin fanservice (🤷🏻‍♀️). This seems to be one of those things that can be categorized under Taekook Being Weird lol Maybe we'll find out in a few years.

Lastly, I think Jimin says things the fans want to hear (all of them do). So him "relying" on BTS could just be him pandering to fans and not because of lack of ambition or personal fulfillment.

I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts. You can message me or I can answer without posting your ask if you aren’t comfortable sharing controversial opinions.💜

[1zashreena1]

Angst Fluff Whiplash -14

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  What does an apex predator do after confessing undying love? Princess is about to find out.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Non-descriptive sexytimes, the L word, criminal activities glossed over, relationship building, plus size woman+fit man, Anxiety, This one is all feels and

I Am So NOT Sorry. 

THE TIME HAS COME

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​ ​ @symbiont13​ ​ @nicke0115​ ​​ @bunnykjm​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​ ​ @girlpornparadise​ ​ @mandoplease​ ​ @heresathreebee​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​ ​ @jetiikad​ ​ @joalsglasses​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​ ​ @demoncatstone​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​ ​ @poeedamerons​ ​

"I don't know, Lisa. He won't tell me. Not until this weekend apparently?  We're supposed to go shopping."

"Honestly, I'm scared. I mean, there's the whole how did he get a passport FOR me dilemma. Then the part where he knows I don't like surprises. And he said he was calling my sister!"

"Oh my God, she could tell him anything! Please don't tell him about the Backstreet Boys phase. I'm going to have a panic attack."

"Of course he would tease me about it for eternity!"

"What? Watch what words? What are you talking about?"

"Do not hang up this phone! Do you even love me?!? Lisa? …. Hello?"

You toss your phone down on the bed and heave a huge sigh. Your very own BFF, abandoning you like that. Luckily its your own phone and not the insane cell Diego got you because it bounces off the other side of the bed and smacks into the wall before admitting total defeat to gravity. 

You stand there staring at your open suitcase. Your typical items are in there already. You don't need any toiletries. Or makeup, now. Or bras. Or underwear. Fucking hell, its like I already moved into the penthouse with him. 

… Could I do that? He already basically asked for it. He keeps telling me to quit my job and let him spoil me for real. You wring your hands together while rubbing your lips against each other and being bombarded with intrusive thoughts. Yeah. Until he's done with me and then I have to start all over. At 35. 

But its been almost a year now that you've been seeing Diego. What does that even mean, "seeing" him? You think about how the last few months have been so… easy. He practically lives in New York now, their territory split. He opted to control the East Coast and let his sister deal with the logistical nightmare of receiving the imports. 

He has been a lot looser since then. Faster to laugh, quicker to goof around, less likely to do anything as hard as he used to do. The distance from Alicia has allowed him to really flourish in every aspect. And he's beautiful with it. The laugh lines and the soft brown eyes wreck you every time.

He says he wants to keep you. Take care of you. You finally believe that he loves you. He has made so many improvements in communication. Hell, he read books on how to be with someone on the spectrum. Do you understand it? Hell no. Are you going to take it and run? Fuck yeah dude. I love him and I want to keep him.

And now he wants to take you on a trip. A surprise destination. Out of the country with a mostly legal passport. You don't doubt that you'll be safe with him. Your parents were a little concerned when you told them since they've never even met him. And they saw him on the national news that time he got arrested by the Feds, so that really inspires confidence. 

Your middle sister Lynne and niece Halley accidentally met him that one afternoon about a month back. And they have not shut up about it since. Diego this, Diego that, blah blah blah, paid the restaurant bill in cash, yadda yadda, took us all shopping to a Coach store and then got Halley some crazy new sold out Nikes. Diego had been delighted to be surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls enjoying his spoiling attentions. Just like always, Diego went to the max and charmed them silly.

It was like having an out of body experience to see Diego with them. You couldn't really fault them, he swept you off your feet with no problems.  He was grinning and joking the whole time, making raunchy comments with your sister and encouraging your niece to be assertive (unnecessary according to her soccer coach and the 'Most Aggressive' trophy). He fit right in with them. Afterwards he had asked if that was what it was like to have normal siblings and your heart broke thinking about what his childhood had been like with his sister. 

Which brought you back to the here and now. He had mentioned off hand that he was going to call your sister. Maybe you should text her. She might know something.

Maybe you should just pack your bag and trust him. 

Your Diego Cell chirps and you dive for it on the nightstand. Is he okay? Please don't be hurt.

Its a pic of him. In the shower. With his own hand wrapped around himself. You choke on air and have to sit down. 

I miss you Princess

Holy. Shit. Its been almost a year that you have had unrestricted access to that incredible body and your reaction is still the same. Before you can respond another text arrives:

SOON

The attached pic is just from squinty eyes up.

You burst out laughing at him. You love that he is secretly a nerd about internet stuff. His appearance would never give that away. Time to be ridiculous right back.

Don't make me lick your eyeball 

You are a crazy person laughing to yourself alone in your bedroom.

You are so weird

Yet there you are, lusting after this weirdo

You shoot back.

… Am I the weirdo??

No. Still you.

I would threaten to bite it.. but you would like that

Well now you have to

Oh my God. You're fairly certain you could do anything to this man and he would think it was sexy. Its a novel experience.

Can we eat dinner at home tomorrow? I don't feel like wearing a real bra

You know the answer to that. 

YES. NO MORE BRAS EVER AGAIN. BE FREE

… no panties?🙏🥺

You can see the hopeful puppy dog eyes clearly.

A for effort babe. One of these days you might get your wish lol

...Are you panty free right now?

Wow. He is really trying here.

I'm packing. 

Your pic is a heap of tangled thongs dumped on top of Tiny Murder Panther.

💜🔥😛

He would find that hot. Fucking nympho.

Lemme finish this so I can go straight to the airport tomorrow

Fine. But I am pouting 

You do not doubt that.

Don't care. Still love your stupid face

You cannot believe you just sent that. 

Princess. 

Mi amor.

Diego's good little girl.

You shudder with the praise. You can hear it in his voice, as if he were right here with you.

I love you

Dream of me?

Oh baby, if you only knew. You sigh wistfully.

Always, baby

---------------‐---------

The flight is uneventful, thankfully. Your maxidress with a built-in shelf bra is stupidly comfortable and you actually take a nap. 

The plane has barely come to a stop and you already have on your silly lambswool lined Ugg flip flops. You had argued with Diego about these (Why would flip flops need a warm fuzzy lining??) but he had won by sticking one in your face and ordering you to feel. It didn't take a full second for you to snatch them both from him and cuddle them to your chest. His pleased smile full of dimples was worth all the subsequent teasing.

You slip on one of his previously stolen shirts in a metallic lilac color and roll up the sleeves so you have use of your hands. Bending at the waist, you flip your hair over and fluff it back up from the nap. What was that he had said? Oh yes: Wild and thick, just how I like it. The memory makes you bite your bottom lip and smile.

Bastian is waiting for you on the tarmac. He takes your bag and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. "Hey, sweetie. Nice shirt, is that new?"  His knowing grin is infectious. 

You nuzzle into the collar with a laugh. "Thanks! My boyfriend gave it to me." 

Bastian chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you. "Oh, honey. That is not all he is going to give you." He closes the door while you roll your eyes smirkingly. 

The ride to the penthouse is uneventful. Well, as uneventful as Friday evening rush hour traffic can be in New York. 

Bastian waits until the song is over before lowering the stereo volume. "We're supposed to pick up dinner. Any requests?" He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while you sit at the red light.

You ponder the options. "What kind of a day has he had? Meetings? Tours? Disciplinary action?" You ask Bastian thoughtfully. Sometimes when Diego has a bad day he likes comfort food. Mostly a giant heap of rice and beans next to homemade tortillas, he isn't so picky about the variety of meat.

Bastian glances at you out of the corner of his eye before warily answering, "There was a… termination… at a construction site this afternoon that took longer than expected. That's why he didn't come to get you, he wanted to shower first."

You keep your eyes focused forward to look out of the windshield. "Okay. How about Jalisco's then?" Comfort food it is. 

Bastian nods and adjusts course to obtain those tortillas.

‐--------------------

The instant the elevator doors ding open Diego pops up from the sectional and comes straight at you. Your giant sidestep to let Bastian pass is barely completed before Diego is slipping those big hands under his own pilfered shirt to crush your body to him. Your arms go around his neck like a reflex, like this is their natural resting place. He leans his forehead down onto yours and kisses you so very gently.

"Mmmm. Hi." You murmur softly into his beard. Those bottomless brown eyes look over your entire face before coming back to your own. His smile is huge, those dimples make your pulse trip. He blinks slowly down at you, just like the big cat you nicknamed him after. 

"Princess. How was the trip?" He always asks you this. You still aren't sure if its just culturally specific manners or if he is requesting a review of the flight crew's performance. Either way, your answer is always the same.

You pull him back down so you can cuddle into his neck. "Its better now that I'm here." He rubs his cheek against your own and purrs directly into your ear in response. Your body's reaction is immediate and decisive. You shiver in his arms and your nipples peak to full attention.

Except this time is different. With only a bralette and the dress's shelf bra Diego can clearly feel what just happened in real time. His eyes are comically round as he peers down at your cleavage in pleasant wonder.

"Oh. I like this outfit." His hands rise up your back to crush you further into him. You chuckle and rub your chest on his firm pectoral muscles. He watches hungrily as your compressed decolletage rises higher yet from the added pressure. "New rule to match the bedroom pants bar, no bras in the penthouse. Fucking magnificent, bonita." He licks his lips after making this proclamation.

You throw your head back and laugh joyfully.

‐----------------------

As it always does the weekend passes too quickly. Its already 1:00pm on Saturday when you two finally come down from the bedroom.

Diego is delighted to hear that your time-off request was approved for the trip. You had told him not to worry about it, your boss always kept her word about this stuff. 

That’s when he pulls a ridiculous pith hat out from under the couch. It looks like it came straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon about a big game hunt on the African savannah.  You lose your entire shit and laugh until you do that silent clapping seal move.

Diego keeps repeating, "Wait, stop laughing. Stooooop." But he isn't faring much better. You finally wipe the tears and calm down enough to take it from his limp fingers while he chortles a few last times.

"Baby. What. What the fuck. What fucking is this??" You plunk the hat on your own head and Diego collapses facedown into your lap to gigglesnort uproariously. "Stop. Stop laughing. Stoppit!" You smack the back of his head lightly until he comes up for air.

He closes his eyes and composes himself. You take the opportunity to plop the hat on his head.

"Oh my god, that is so sexy!" You declare in high dramatics. 

He grabs your hands and leans in very close to explain. "You need this hat for our trip." Your eyes narrow in suspicion. "You will wear it for our safari quest…" he pauses for dramatic effect and your lips twitch in suppressed amusement. He leans closer yet and captures your stare. His face is hilarious, you can tell he is biting his cheek to keep from laughing. His eyebrows are drawn down in concentration but his eyes are widened in mock excitement. He sucks in a deep breath to exclaim, "To locate palm trees in the wild!"

He laughs as he puts the hat back on you.

You blink a few times in shock. Palm trees? You're going somewhere with palm trees? A tropical locale. Palm trees. Beaches. SWIMSUITS. Your sudden panic must show on your face because Diego's laughter dies off.

You blink furiously, but its too little too late. The tears burn as they well up in your eyes and spill down over your cheeks.

He reaches out to cup your face. "Princess?" His tone is an even mix of concern and fear. "Bicki? What?"

You shake your head 'no' and throw yourself into him. Diego catches you and hauls you into his lap. You curl up against his chest and sob quietly. He pets over your hair, open handed strokes so his fingers don't tangle in the curls, and soothes your back while you shake. Rubbing his nose against your temple, he kisses your cheek and whispers, "Do you want to write?" His gentle care only makes you worse. "...so that is no." He looks crestfallen. He buries his face in your hair and breathes heavily.

Your tears are slowing and your chest is finally beginning to loosen. "Dieg-" you hiccup, wrapping both hands around his forearm. You wheeze a few times before trying again. "I. I. Where? Where are we g-going?" 

He sighs deeply before answering. "Nowhere. I won't take you somewhere you don't want to go. I should have known better. I-" He snaps his jaw shut so fast that his teeth click together. 

Tilting your head back, you try to catch his eyes. Diego won't look at you. "H-hey, please." You cup his jaw and pull him down to you. He comes, but the motions are stilted. "Look. Please, baby. Let me s-see you."

When he finally meets your eyes it breaks your heart. That chocolate gaze is disappointed, hurt, frustrated even. You wiggle around until you're straddling his lap. He just holds his hands out of the way, not hindering you but certainly not helping either. Standing up on your knees to lean your forehead against his, you reach for his hands and bring them to your chest where you lace your fingers together. 

"Baby. I want that." Your nose rubs against his as you speak. "I want to go everywhere with you. I never thought I would ever get a chance like this. To travel? To go somewhere tropical? To have someone who loves me enough to do this for me?" You're crying again. And so is Diego? A little?? 

He brings your joined hands up to tap your chin. His face is adorably conflicted when he speaks, "You… want to go?" You nod slowly. His eyebrows lower as he tries to make sense of this. "Then why do you cry? Are they, the uh, is that 'happy tears' ?"

Your hands shake in his. "Yeah. Happy tears. I just. I was overwhelmed. I'm sorry." He huffs out a sigh. You continue, "Its almost like the super intense emotions short circuit my responses and I guess my default is panic crying? I don't know."

Diego huffs at you again. "Please stop that. I'm going to have a heart attack." There is a hint of real annoyance in his voice but his lips curl up at the corners. 

You free your right hand to reach up and brush his wet lashes. Why did something this little bring him to tears? "Baby, is everything okay?"

He leans into your hand, then turns to kiss your fingers. You giggle, you can't help it, his beard both tickles and delights you. He smirks at you, "It is now, Princess. You should get dressed so we can go." 

But you're not done here yet. "Where are we going on the trip? A place name, not foliage that may or may not be present."

His Cheshire cat grin is intriguing and mildly worrisome. He gives you one word, "Xcalak." And then watches while you access your mental map and pinpoint the exact location. 

It takes you a moment but you find it with a gasp. "Costa Maya? Like Caribbean-sea side of Mexico??"  He nods and you immediately start in with 20 Questions. "Are there cenotes? Is the water really those unreal colors? Is the food amazing there? Can we see ruins?"

Diego cups your face to stop you. "Whatever you like, little girl." With a kiss to your nose and a smack to your ass he ushers you upstairs to get dressed. 

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

The shopping is less traumatic than normal for you thanks to Diego making enthusiastic innuendo nonstop and feeding you between stores. You find sandals, and flip flops, and little slip-on sneakers. All kinds of flowy maxidresses and flouncy skirts paired with new tank tops in buttery soft fabrics. Cover-ups and kimonos and huge airy loose knit sweaters get rung up with linen pants and shorts you actually feel comfortable wearing.

But swimsuits? A disaster. Everything that fits your hips is way too big for your ribcage. Tankinis big enough to go around your middle are about a foot too wide around your chest. You try some maternity stuff… amazingly there isn't any chest support. That confuses both of you for almost 20 minutes while you discuss it over croissants and various iced beverages (coffee for him and some kind of hot chocolate slushie for you).

Then you look across the street and inspiration hits. One of the stores you order bras from is right there and has bra-sized swimwear in the display window. Diego turns to see what stole your undivided attention from him and slaps his hand down on the table in celebration. 

You aren't sure which one of you is more excited to get into the store. But while you run around exclaiming at all the things that come in your size Diego stands in the doorway and gawks. When you circle back to check on him he just points to one display wall.

There is lacy, frilly, corseted lingerie. In. Your. Size.

He demands one of everything that fits you and isn't red, brown, or yellow. You don't even argue.

The store does alterations and makes very good recommendations. The sales clerk is impressed with Diego's input, she comments that he really does seem to know your body well. You flush with it, glad that he isn't close enough to hear that. You leave with three bags and seven personalized swim outfits under construction. One is ready to wear and you keep reaching into the bag to touch it in wonder. 

Diego notices but just gives you a raised eyebrow. 

"This is the first time I've ever felt good about how I look in swimwear." You confess quietly. 

Diego wraps a massive arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side while you continue down the sidewalk. 

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

Sunday is a mess as you try to make pancakes and Diego tries to remain physically attached to you like an excessively attractive barnacle. The pancakes are either burnt or still batter in the middle. Leftover carnitas and tortillas to the rescue. Diego teases you about the kitchen failure all day because this is the first time he has witnessed such a thing.

You doze on the couch under the pretense of "reading". Diego rotates through his laptop, cell, and the soccer match on ESPN+. 

Until his phone rings. 

You both tense up. Only one person calls him instead of texting. He takes the phone into the office to answer his sister. You wait on the couch to see which Diego you get back: silly tickle fight Diego,  sad puppy dog eyes Diego that requires cuddles, or  angry Diego that needs to fuck you through the nearest horizontal surface. 

The elevator dings and Julio comes in with a tray of coffees. "Ay, Gordita. Buenas tardes. I got you the hibiscus thing you like." He greets you with a big smile, then looks around when he doesn't see Diego on the sectional with you.

Hopping up to help him carry stuff, you point to the office in indication of Diego's location. Julio makes a face, "Hermana perra?" and you simply nod. Julio takes Diego's iced coffee and bites the bullet for you. The door closes softly behind him.

You munch plantain chips and slurp hibiscus lemonade until they come out.  Diego just looks tired when he comes back to you on the couch, coffee in hand. You open your arms in invitation and he plops next to you with a sigh. Cuddly Diego it is.

He doesn't tell you anything and you don't ask. Everyone watches the match mindlessly. Diego snores softly in your lap while you pet his hair.

He rides to the airport with you but you forbid him from coming onto the plane with you. He is already making this harder than it has to be with his big brown eyes and clingy hands.

"Baby." You breathe into his hair while he snuggles into your neck in the backseat of the SUV. "Its only a week. We do this every week." You pet down his bicep and immediately regret it.

"I know." Diego huffs into your skin. "Why don't you just quit? Let me take care of everything." You go through this almost every week now, too. He nuzzles you, the sensation makes you reconsider his proposal. You pull his head up by a fistful of soft hair and look him in the eye. He blinks guilelessly at you.

"Number one: No. Number two: Stoppit." He laughs at your fond exasperation. "Okay. I'm gonna go. You stay on the ground."

"Fine." He whines. "But I am going to send you a dick pic the moment that plane takes off." He crosses his arms as if daring you to tell him no.

You cup his stupidly attractive face in your hands for a kiss. Okay, several kisses and 27 minutes later, you respond, "Send me one every day. Its my favorite dick." His startled laugh makes you feel very pleased with yourself.

He pulls you into his arms again to kiss you one last time. His beard scratches and you sigh into him. Finally that tongue retreats and he rests his forehead on yours. His voice is low and rough, his hands squeeze tight on your hip and thigh, "I love you, Princess."

Will that ever stop hurting? You close your eyes against the burn of tears but smile with happiness. "I love you, Diego." You pop the door handle before you open your eyes to see him watching you, jaw tense. You stick your tongue out and he breaks into a smirk. With a laugh, you slide out of SUV and walk to the plane, determined not to look back.

When you get up the stairs the pilot greets you, but his gaze shifts behind you. Turning around, you see Diego standing outside the SUV, arms crossed and trying to look so not soft. You smile and mouth Bye baby, he gives you a short little wave. You duck into the plane before you can start crying.

The wheels are not, in fact, off the ground when the phone chirps.

‐-----------------------

The trip is a few weeks out and there is some kind of emergency at the San Diego docks the next weekend. So. You don't get your Murder Panther fix. 

And your coworkers notice. They spend all day Monday strolling past your cubicle, straining their necks to see if you're wearing new shoes or some fresh bling. Finally someone has the nerve to ask how your weekend was. 

You find yourself blinking back tears. I miss him so much. This is ridiculous, he just texted you at like six this morning. But its not just the conversation you miss, now is it? You miss that big body crowding you into the corner of the couch. His soft curls under your hands. That beard on literally any inch of your skin. Draping yourself over shoulders wider than your hips and knowing that not only can he take your weight, he likes it.

He says he wants to keep you and you desperately want to keep him. Why do you fear this? Is it just his profession? The risk? Oh god, how do you even go about introducing him to your parents??? Diego can be all kinds of charming but he can be a real asshole, too.

And they know what he is: A criminal.  For your boomer parents he is the living embodiment of Public Enemy Number One. 

Grand Theft. 

Money Laundering.

Arson.

Murder.

International Cocaine Trafficking. 

HE IS A LITERAL DRUG LORD.

You lay your head down on your desk and try to keep it together. 

Your Diego Cell chirps.

Your laughter bubbles up until it comes out of you without your consent. It turns hysterical and you realize you need to leave the office suite. Now. 

In the bathroom you stare down at the phone as it lights up again with another message.

Miss my Princess💔👑

How? How is someone who can do all those illegal things so nauseatingly sweet to me?

And then it hits you. Illegal. You didn't use the word immoral. Illegal. You think back to how everyone you see working directly for him is well into adulthood. No children. There are a few women but they are not being sold by him, they are there by their own free will. And he has never laid a hand on any of them, they're just as comfortable around him as the men are. No sex trafficking.  You saw someone give their resignation last month. The dude walked away with a suitcase of cash for a decade of trustworthy service. Its a better retirement plan than what I have. 

Have you seen him assault people? Yes. You've seen him stab people. Carve off someone's ear because they weren't listening as assigned and it cost the Jimenez Cartel a shipment. You've seen him push an informant down an empty elevator shaft. Choke a man into unconsciousness with his bare hands when you were disrespected. 

And you still love him. Not a single one of those incidents weighs on your conscience. Your morality is a dingy grey 12 year old men's undershirt that you should just throw away but you're definitely going to cut into rags to keep for cleaning when it comes to Diego. 

The cell lights up again.

Mi amor 💞😍🍑🏝✈⏲👙

You don't know what's worse: His excessive and ridiculous usage of emojis or the fact that you understood. 

Look what came

The attached pic is a few pieces of your new swimwear. They look gorgeous, you can't even tell where the alterations were done.

You have to try on all of them. And show me

Of course he wants his own personal show. You feel desire burning low in your belly. Its been a year and not once has he ever shied away from your stomach rolls or hinted at weight loss. He never questions the food you order. And while the two of you have chuckled about shapewear he has never mocked you for using it. Or seemed disappointed when you opted not to wear it. He tosses you around like its nothing and prefers for you to sleep on top of him. Its not that he loves you despite your weight, he loves it as part of you.

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

Its now Thursday and the desk drawer where you keep your purse at work is vibrating. He knows I'm at work. If he calls right back I'll answer him. You try to keep your Diego Cell out of sight at work or you'll never get anything done. Plus your coworkers are always dying to catch a peek of your infamous sugar daddy/boyfriend.

Yeah. Boyfriend. Keep practicing that. It feels good. 

You finish the insurance call and hang up your headset when the vibrating starts again. Your next door cubicle neighbor pops around the divider to advise you to answer that before he comes down here and abducts you.

What deity should I pray to for that??

You snatch Diego Cell and march out to the hall. Poking the green button, you answer the call.

"Baby. You okay?"

"Princess! I… yeah. I'm not hurt."

He sounds odd. There is definitely something going on here.

"What's up? You need me?"

The silence stretches. 

"Yes. Please?"

Diego sounds very uncomfortable. It causes you physical pain.

"Well, you have me. What is it?"

You can hear him swallow and in your mind you picture him looking away, hiding some soft emotion shining in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Here. I am here. I just. I just wanted to hear you."

Something is very wrong with my Murder Panther, you think.

"Babe," your voice is soft, you're trying to ease him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He huffs and you can hear him scrape a hand down over his face. "I know you are at work. And I should not have called. But."

His voice trembles, even over the phone you can hear it. He's afraid.

"Diego. If you need me, then you have me. Tell me, baby." You try to be reassuring but you also really need to know what is wrong.

"I would like to come down there." His declaration is overly formal. You wonder who he is trying to impress. Its certainly not me.

"You… want to come down here instead of me going up there this weekend?"  You're trying to make sense out of any part of this conversation. 

"I…. grrrrrrrrr."  He growls in frustration. Between English being his second language and your sensory processing issues, this is not an uncommon occurrence. He sucks in a deep breath and charges forward in an emotional rush. "I know you're working, but I want to come down there because I miss seeing your face." Before you have a chance to answer he adds, "Pick me up? At the airport, after work? Please, Bicki." His voice cracks at the end and his inhalation is ragged. Your heart implodes. 

"Diego. Baby. Of course. Of course I will. I can be there by six." You have a mental flash of how dirty your bathroom is, all the clothes you have laying around, and the vacuum you haven't touched in over a month. Diego needing me is more important.

"Good. Good. Yes, I. I will text you. When I land." His voice is raspier than ever, low and gravelly. 

"Sure. I'll be there." I'll always be there.

"Okay. You… you should go." You can hear his determination. You can visualize him squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, taking on the Jimenez Cartel persona. 

"Hey." He grunts in acknowledgement. "I love you." You blurt it out before you have a chance to talk yourself round in circles. You can hear voices in the background. 

"And you. You as well." The call ends, but you know.

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

You're sitting in your car at the little regional airport second guessing the coffee you got when the phone chirps. 

Here

Springing out of the car, you wave to the security guard as you trot past. "Hey Jim, I just have to grab someone real quick. That's okay, right?" You wave vaguely back toward your car parked in the fire lane. There are only four security guards who work here and they all know you at this point. 

Jim laughs but waves you on. "Go get 'im, sweetie." Jim must be pushing 90 by now, he doesn't care about traffic laws.

You enter one of the two sets of automatic doors on this entire building and cross through the tiny lobby. There. You can see his dark hair and ridiculous shoulders over a completely unnecessary row of potted plants. He must hear your echoing footsteps because his head whips around in alarm, but his face relaxes into a wide smile. He lengthens his strides to come around the stupid plants, hands automatically reaching out for you.

"Diego." You laugh breathily and fling arms around his neck. He smells so good. 

He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Printhesss." He murmurs into you, slurred because he refuses to remove his mouth from your skin. 

Turning your head to kiss his cheek, you moan shamelessly for him. He surges back upward to capture your lips and kiss you with mild desperation. That devious tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth before curling up behind your top front teeth. 

Your entire world narrows down to Diego. Chocolate. Tastes like the smoothest Belgian chocolate in existence. He smells perfect, clean but definitively male to you. His silky button-down is smooth under your hands, stretched taut over muscle. Those massive hands gather you closer, molding you to that big, solid body. His beard scratches your face in soft tickles when he alters the angle of the kiss just so.

"Goddamn." A woman's voice exclaiming somewhere behind you catapults you back into the here and now. Which is a dinky little regional airport in rural central Pennsylvania. You know, a very public location in a very prudish area of the country. Fuck.

You pull back and Diego's hands shoot up to the back of your head. Holding you in place, he leans his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. He rumbles softly to you, "Take me home."

You feel so silly seeing Diego in the passenger seat of your Corolla, he just seems so out of place. "You can adjust the seat however, nobody really sits there. I just put it all the way back to make sure you can get in without cracking your head." You sound nervous even to your own ears.

Diego turns to you with a response but his attention is captured by the cup holders in the center console, specifically the Dunkin Donuts styrofoam cup. He points to it, then looks up at you with a slow grin. "Princess. Is this for me?"

You flush but can't stop the embarrassed little smile so you cover it with sass, "Well, it sure as hell ain't for me." You start the car and give Jim a little wave. He winks and gives you two thumbs up. Yeah, I'm aware that you saw that kiss too, old man. Everyone saw that shit.

When Diego reaches for the coffee his fingers brush your hip. The contact burns and you suddenly remember that you have not touched this beautiful man for well over two weeks. Apparently he remembers, too, because he wraps that huge hand around your thigh with rather a lot of force. Right hand slapping down to cover his, your heart rate jumps through the roof. Did I take my blood pressure pill this morning?

"Don't." You choke out.

He rumbles softly next to you, purring with conceited pleasure. "Did my Princess miss Diego?" He asks you with an incredibly pornographic voice. 

"Oh, fuck you." Your answering groan is also obscene. So glad the windows are up.

His hoarse chuckle makes your thighs tremble. "You're Diego's good little girl, you will." He's right and you both know it. You would ride him right here in your own damn car if he demanded it. You have a problem.

He lets you redirect his hand to the coffee with only a little resistance. "Focus." You hiss.

"Me or you?" Diego quips.

"Yes." You declare.

Diego's guffaw is contagious and you don't even try to hold back.

Your apartment always seems like an adequate size until Diego is inside. No, bad Bicki. Do not say it like that. His presence just sort of… lounges about in a vaguely threatening but highly attractive manner. Much like the actual man on your couch. You tried to pick up dinner on the way but he just wanted to 'go home'. You are disgustingly happy that your place feels like home to him.

Diego had flopped on your couch immediately and hasn't moved since. Something is very definitely very wrong. There were bursts of your Murder Panther in the car, but he has been just subdued overall. He had turned your stereo up and smiled faintly, watching you sing along. He had also complained that the stereo in your car sucked (Agreed) and this was unacceptable. You're sure he'll do something ridiculously extravagant to remedy this.

You try to give him the remote, he takes it but doesn't do anything with it. You offer him food, both junk and something home-cooked, all you get is a shrug. You putter around for a while, picking things up and sighing before putting them down somewhere else. His dark eyes watch you, unfathomable. 

Finally you disappear to the bedroom only to return in your pajamas. This he likes, perking up and blinking rapidly. "Okay, I know you brought something softer than those jeans, so get comfy so I can order shitty pizza and cuddle you."

His jaw drops in momentary shock. Then he scoffs, "I do not cu--"

You cut him off, "Yes, you do and yes, you're going to. Up. Now." This has to be hilarious. This short little woman in overly long pants barking orders at the massive man who heads an international drug cartel. Well, its either hilarious or fatal. I'm about to find out.

Diego looks around, as if someone else might secretly be here to witness him be a little bit submissive and moderately soft. He raises his chin in a tiny show of defiance. "Fine. But I am showering first." He glares with this proclamation, daring you to contradict him.

You throw your hands up in the air. Why the fuck would I have a problem with that?? His eyes follow your hands, like a cat when you try to point out a bit of food but all it does is rub your finger. You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Of course that's fine, Diego. You know where everything is, have at it."

You watch his butt as he walks away to the bathroom. 

The pizza actually isn't shitty and Diego eats half of it by himself. When you offer him the cinnamon dessert sticks he shoots you a calculating look. You split the contents, pulling two sticks over to yourself and piling up the rest in front of him. His delighted grin is decidedly not calculated and you lose track of time watching him enjoy dessert.

He's beautiful like this. He wears a soft, silky t-shirt that is tight enough to help you get through the nights you spend alone. His hair is a riot of fluffy curls, free of product and clearly trying to break free of gravity, too. He hasn't shaved for at least a few days and that salt and pepper beard is filling in nicely. His face is unguarded, expression open, those laugh lines and dimples you love make frequent appearances.

After dinner you lay all over each other in some weird we-have-intimacy-issues approximation of cuddling. It works so you don't question it. He has his laptop and you have your tablet and together you have sporadic conversation. Its comfortable. 

Until Diego asks you a seemingly innocuous question that you know is very nefarious:

"What color do you like in cars?"

Your eyes narrow so much that you have trouble seeing. "...Why." Your low tone might be frightening to anyone else.

He looks at you over the laptop screen, brown eyes innocently wide. "Just curious. Your car is green. Do you like any other colors?" He slowly pulls the laptop closer to himself to subtly cover the screen with his bulk. 

"Diego." You slowly put down your tablet and start leaning toward him. He has nowhere to go, propped up in the corner of the chaise end of the sofa. "What. Are. You. Doing." 

"Will you let me take care of you? Just in this one way right now?" He licks his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. Building desperation shows in his eyes and you can't fight that. You don't want to win this.

"Let me see, baby." Your sighed acquiescence has an instantaneous effect. Diego drops the tension from his shoulders and opens an arm to you in invitation. You crawl up him to cuddle into his chest, wedged on your side between all those muscles and the back of the sectional. From here you are stationed directly in front of the laptop screen.

He is looking at cars. 

Armored cars. 

Armored, bulletproof, explosive resistant cars. 

What. The. Fuck.

"Diego, what the fuck is going on?!?" Your apprehensive demand sets him right back on edge. You can feel him go tense underneath you. The laptop gets shoved onto an empty cushion as you throw yourself over him. Tiny hands land on those broad shoulders with extreme force as you use all of your deadweight to trap him. Below you, Diego shakes but you can't tell if its from anger or anxiety because his eyes are scrunched closed tightly. "Tell me why I need a fucking bulletproof car!"

He surges up into your face to match your volume, "She knows! Mi hermana perra knows about you! Alicia found out about us!" You lurch back in shock, but the steel hands on your hips stop you from retreating. His voice is hoarse, louder than you've ever heard him, and its terrifying. Your fear must show because he releases his grip on you like it burns. 

"WHAT?" The ramifications here could truly be lethal. Alicia has already tried to set Diego up to take the fall when they were arrested almost four months ago. You know she has scorned Diego's familiarity with his men in the past, that is why he handpicks them personally. To Alicia, everyone is disposable, even her own brother. Her only loyalty is to herself.

Diego's hands come up in an aborted reach for you. You're still too shocked to move. His face crumbles in agony and he blinks furiously, hands balling into fists. "Everything I have ever wanted she has ensured I never got. She, she manipulates me into destroying everything I touch. I will not let her hurt you! I refuse to allow her to break us, mi amor!!" His volume has steadily escalated until he is yelling. 

He's afraid. He is afraid that he will lose me. The realization emboldens you enough to take his hands in your own, bring them to your chest, and press them close to your heart. You trust that he won't hurt you in his rage. You don't fear him, this dangerous, powerful, ruthless man that you love.

His hands open to slide up your shoulders, curl around your neck, and his thumbs glide over the pulse point under your ears. He brings your face to his own, his expression twisted up with fear and anger and possession and love. 

"You are mine! And I will keep you!"

You realize everything that you have been debating with yourself, all of your pro versus con lists, your stupid little dry erase board covered in sticky notes with your fears, your scribbled timeline of events and possible future predictions, none of it matters. All you care about is the man in your arms. Diego is the most important thing in your life and you can't imagine a life without him. If you had to give up everything to keep him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

Your hands grip tightly around his wrists and you consciously straighten your spine. Expression hardening, your eyes open to meet his anguished gaze.

 "I want black."

The armored 2020 Camry is delivered that Sunday. You thank him for finding something inconspicuous with an upgraded JBL sound system and he compliments your understated color choice of Black Sand Metallic. By the time you drop him off at the airport that evening you've managed to replace the new car smell with something better and you're thankful that the leather seats just wipe clean. Monday morning in the parking lot at work, however, is a literal ordeal.

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

The next two weeks feel like they’re seven months long. You clock out at noon on Thursday to a chorus of your coworkers making vaguely lewd remarks and howling with laughter about your vacation. 'Two whole weeks on a beach in Mexico with an absolutely loaded hottie' is what they've been repeating gleefully all week. 

You turn around and walk backwards to give them finger guns, "Yes," then you reach down to adjust your pants, "And YES." Their squeals are contagious and you're still laughing when you burst out the front doors to drive home. 

You turn the volume waaaay too high in the car so that your teeth vibrate and it feels like you're having heart palpitations. I love this fucking car and I love that man. 

There is a rental Tahoe parked in the grass next to the huge gravel driveway at your farmhouse, but he left the second assigned parking space next to your Corolla open so you can park The Beast (as you have affectionately named your new ride) appropriately while away. When you get out of the car you glance up instinctively, Diego is standing outside your front door on the small third floor balcony laughing. 

"Are you deaf yet, Princess?" He hollers down in amusement. 

You flip him off with the middle finger that wears the gemstone ring he gave you while yelling back, "WHAAAAT??"

His laughter fades as he disappears inside, leaving the door wide open to let out all the cold air. Were you raised in a barn?? Close the door, the electric bill-- You cut off your own thoughts when you suddenly remember that you haven't been paying that electric bill for the last six months. Nevermind.

Before you can start up the stairs, Sara, your first floor neighbor, appears on the porch with their toddler. "Hey stranger!" Sara waves with a big smile and the kid does the same but with some kind of unidentifiable kitchen utensil in hand. "That is your boyfriend, right? He had a key so I didn't think it was your ex but I wanted to make sure. I mean, from what I just saw it is your boyfriend. Also, holy shit, that's your boyfriend?"

If she says the word 'boyfriend' one more time I'm going to spontaneously combust. 

"Uh yeah, definitely not my ex. Sorry, I forget that you guys haven't really seen him before, I meant to tell you he was coming." You can feel your face burning and it isn't from the August sun. Sara fans her own face with a hand while mouthing 'he's hot' like you're somehow unaware. You forge on before she can start gushing aloud. "We're actually leaving on a trip tonight so I'll be gone for the next two weeks."

Now Sara drops the kid and scrambles over to whisper fiercely to you, "Oh my god, seriously? Where are you going? Wait, this is the same guy you've been going to see in New York, right? How long has it been, like a year? Is he taking you on a trip for your anniversary? I don't even know his name. Oh my god, that is so sweet!"

Okay, down girl. You're not sure who you're trying to will into being chill, Sara or yourself. 

"Um, we're going to Mexico. And yeah, he's the guy in New York. It's just a vacation." You don't even touch the relationship questions with a ten foot pole. You glance up but Diego is still inside, Thank fuck. 

Sara hops a little in excitement. "I'm sooo jealous!" She squeals. "You have to take a ton of pictures! I need to see! Oh my god, I bet you guys are such a cute couple!" You nod and start backing away, trying to wave goodbye so you can climb the stairs and then climb Diego. "Ooh ooh, wait, what's his name?" Sara hisses conspiratorially. "Does he speak Mexican? Is he Mexican!?!"

You suddenly remember why you tried to move away from this area. Repeatedly. "Yeah, he's Mexican and yes, he speaks Spanish." You sigh. Sara nods but continues staring at you expectantly. Fine. "His name is Diego."

Sara makes a stupid face like this is a rom-com movie. I cannot take anymore, you must shut the fuck up. "Okay, okay. I won't hold you up. But seriously, we can have a 'pics and wine' girls' night when you come back!" She waves maniacally before snatching up the kid and skipping back inside. 

I can't think of anything I would like less. Oh hell no.

You climb the stairs in record time before she can come back outside and start talking again.

Bastian, Julio, and a third man you don't know are in your living room. You do not care and your vague wave shows it. You can hear Julio's warm 'Gordita!' greeting as you spin around and march to the bedroom.

Diego is standing at your bed, tucking TMP into your small duffel, when you burst through the doorway and continue at full speed directly into him. He laughs breathlessly but holds steady against your weight. "Princess. Are you ready?"

You take overflowing fistfuls of his shirt, bury your face in his chest, suck in a huge lungful of air, and shriek at full volume.

"Uhhh...that is a yes, si?" He mutters uncertainly above you. 

You rear back to look up at him with a smile so wide it hurts.

"Oh good." His hands come to your shoulders while those beautiful brown eyes sparkle. The dimples and laugh lines come out as he absorbs your infectious excitement. Your hands shoot up to his hair to yank him down so you can crash your mouths together with bruising force.

The effect is immediate. He moans loudly and crushes you against him. You dig nails into his neck and you lick your way into his mouth, his hands snake down to your ass to hold tight. Your left leg comes up as you try to wrap it around his hips. With a pained groan he rips those lips off of yours and pulls back. Undeterred, you move on to assaulting his now bared throat, moaning like porn come to life.

"Princess," he gasps, "You have to sto-- uhhh, yes, bonita. Your fucking tongue." You're too busy licking his adam's apple to pay attention to words right now. "Nooo, mi amor, please, lo siento, stopstopstop." You get in one last nip of his collarbone as he pulls your head back via a handful of ringlets. His pupils are blown wide and he's panting hard. You stare longingly at his delectable mouth while making pitiful whines.

"Please, baby, pleeeease. You're all I've thought about for days. I need you!" You try shameless begging, you're certainly not lying. Petting over his shoulders and down that solidly muscled chest, you shudder and try to pull yourself back to him.

He closes his eyes with a grimace. "Flight! Fuck you on the flight!" He croaks, then yanks your hair harder than you like. The pain clears the fog just enough for you to blink back to awareness. You nod jerkily and step back. "Have to leave now to get there before dark." He explains in a rushed huff. You blink as you remember how time works.

"Right. Yeah, right. Okay. Okay." Straightening to attention you yank off the cardigan you wore for the air conditioning at work, leaving you in a tank top and ready to be productive. Focus on not-dick.

Diego shoves your favorite notepad in your face so you can see your packing list and not him. The distraction works. He has checked off every item in each categorized list but left the strike through action for your completion. You lower the notepad until you can make eye contact with him and intensely whisper, "You know I fuckin' love you, right?"  

He laughs so hard he has to sit down on the bed.

You go through every bag, touching each item and crossing it off your list one at a time. He did it. Everything but you.

"You know I don't need TMP, right?"

"Why?" He squints up at you from where he lounges across your bed. 

Your face heats up and you clear your throat. "Well, its, I'm. I have, uh, you. So I don't need anything else." The realization of how true that is in every sense gives both of you pause.

Diego surges upright to cup your face and bonk your foreheads together just a little too hard. You giggle and he huffs. 

"Mi amor…" he sighs for you, eyes closing in pleasure. You 'mmmmm' in response. Then his eyes snap open and he growls an order, "Get changed so we can go!" And punctuates it with a stinging slap to your ass.

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

You spend the flight with your face pressed to the window, vibrating in excitement, except for a brief intermission of seven orgasms in the bathroom.

The unknown third man is Joey, Bastian's boyfriend. Joey is even quieter than Bastian and just as cute. They're not overly demonstrative but clearly comfortable moving around each other. Joey works in "Packaging" and does an admirable job of ignoring his cartel drug lord boss being snuggly. Julio naps. 

The customs agent at the Cancun airport looks you up and down with wide eyes but stamps your passport with no questions. Its a five hour drive to Xcalak but Diego is adamant it can be done in three. You give him an eyebrow question which he dismisses with a vague wave, "They paved the road all the way to the southern border last year."

Uhh, they what now? You understand soon enough. The drive drastically changes outside of Cancun. The scenery is both beautiful and heartbreaking. There are occasional mansions with armed guards, high fences, and SUVs like your own current ride. Mostly though, its shacks and people on foot or riding bicycles, weaving to avoid stray dogs and huge iguanas. Could I handle this as my daily reality?

The first time the road sidles right up to the ocean you have a small meltdown.

 "Is that what I think it is?" Your soft whisper is accompanied by a shaking hand pointing to the left. Diego, crammed into the middle of the backseat between yourself and Julio so you could have an unobstructed view, indicates an order for Bastian to pull over. He reaches across you and pops open your door. You slide out with his hand on your lower back and take about a dozen steps to the lapping water. Diego appears to your right, watching you intently.

 "Its gre-e-e-en!" Your stuttering squeal is accompanied by happy tears and you fling yourself into Diego with joy. He laughs at you, but hugs you back just as tightly.

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

The first week passes in a blur of amazing food, warm green sea, fruity drinks, and shirtless wet Diego. And so many orgasms that you can't keep count. Diego is all over you non-stop, more than he ever has been before (Astonishingly). Its incredible and you feel like the only person in the world. If he's not molesting you then he is at least touching you; keeping you in his lap, holding your hand, cuddling and petting and snuggling like a man obsessed. 

You love it. You love him. You love this life.

On Saturday he lets you lead him through the tiny town, your Spanish improving by leaps and bounds as you try to navigate the streets and alleys and shops. The four years of high school Spanish actually prove useful as you manage to complete a purchase all by yourself. Your playful mock smugness evaporates under the blazing desire in his eyes. 

He drags you back to the casita in a much shorter and more direct route than you took upon earlier departure. You're marched directly to the bed and he puts one massive hand in the middle of your chest to gently push you down onto your back. There is something different about this, something important in his eyes. Your voice is high and soft, "Diego?"

He climbs up between your legs and leans down to kiss you senseless. It goes on forever; soft lips, scratchy beard, silky tongue, and nothing but the taste of Diego. Your moans and sighs are mixed together, there are moments when you can't tell who is making what noise. His hands are shaking as he strokes every inch of newly bared and sunburnt sensitive skin while undressing you. 

It takes repeated attempts, but you finally get him naked, too. The sight never fails to take your breath away. All that soft, and now freshly tanned, skin is like velvet to your touch. You're mesmerized by his muscles flexing and then evening out as he moves above you. He finally gets your linen pants untangled off your left foot and flings them across the room with unnecessary force. Your soft peals of laughter light up his face and it brings tears to your eyes. You reach a hand out to him, "Diego. Baby."

He comes up over you, threading fingers into your hair, kissing you slowly and thoroughly. You can feel him against you, fire hot and mouth wateringly hard, but he makes no move to take you. Your eyes open in hazy confusion as the kiss ends. Diego is watching your face, blinking back tears. 

He is holding your head still, hands like steel. Whatever this is, he needs it. And you want to give him everything he needs. Forever.

You're captured by his eyes, bottomless, soulful, and hungry. His raspy voice is soft and trembling with desire. "I love you, Bicki. I want everything. Forever, Princess?" 

Your chest compresses and your heart implodes. Scalding tears escape when you blink and you're nodding before you even know it. "Yes, Diego. Yes, baby, I'm yours." 

Your back arches off the bed as he comes home and brings you with him.

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

You wake up crushed under Diego. The sun is still up so you might be able to talk him into going out for dinner. You rub your cheek on the huge bicep doubling as your pillow and Diego sighs directly into your ear from where he is spooned up behind you. Oh yeah, we should have done this waaaay sooner.

He nuzzles your neck just to incite squirmy giggles and you don't even fight it. "I have something for you, Princess. Stay here." He pulls away and you whine about the loss of your pillow. His low chuckle burns you alive with want. "Stay like that. Do not move." You obey while you listen to him rummage around behind you.

He comes around to your side of the bed, still completely and unabashedly nude. Hell. Fucking. Yes. You love it. He hands your glasses over and you slide them on to take in the now high definition view of naked Murder Panther. The view disappears as he kneels down next to the bed so you're on eye level. His expression is very peculiar. 

His hands slowly come up to reveal a small box of black velvet. Time slows to a halt as he opens the box and presents it to you. 

Inside is a ring. Gleaming in platinum and sparkling with three tastefully large princess cut diamonds. 

Its an engagement ring.

Diego is proposing. 

He swallows hard and rumbles gruffly, "Now remember, you already said y--"

You cut him off with a shriek. "YES! YESYESYES!!"

In the time it takes him to blink twice with surprise you're on him. Arms around his neck, you throw yourself into his lap. He topples backwards and you ride him to the floor, already bawling hysterically. 

He stares up at you in shock as you nod furiously and cry all over him. "Princess. You… you are certain?" If this were any other time you would be howling with laughter at his huge eyes and lax jaw. 

Your answer is stuttery but determined. "Y-y-yeah. Put it-t-t-t on me already!" 

He laughs in delight at your order and the imperious presentation of your shaking left hand. The ring glides on easily, a perfect fit. It gleams up at you blindingly. After a moment of admiration you lace your fingers with his and sigh at the union. His other hand comes up to roughly brush away your tears. "I know you do not like labels so much… but, you will be my, my married... Person. Thing?" 

You stroke his bearded cheek in return, thumb lingering on that dimple. With a hard gulp you dive in head first. Fuck it.

"Yes, Diego. I will be your wife."

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

The next time you wake it is dark out. You reach for a phone on the nightstand to your left and jump when you find one with a loud crack. Diego pops upright behind you, instantly on high alert. "Princess?" He hisses while covering your body with his own.

You gigglesnort, then meekly answer him, "I forgot about the ring and whacked a phone. Everything's okay, baby."

He sighs so deeply that his breath ruffles your hair. "Jesus fucking christ, woman. You are a menace."  He flops down on top of you and snuggles back into your warmth. 

You reach back with your left hand and grope blindly for his face. He licks your fingers as soon as they're in reach and you stuff them into his mouth as retaliation. He just sucks languidly. 

"Mmmmmm, I'm your menace, baby. And I have to pee." He nips your fingers but rolls over to free you. You slide out of the bed and stretch your arms high while arching your back. Diego groans painfully. "What?"

Diego rises to all fours on the bed while the sheet slithers off of him. "You forget that other people can see without glasses, huh?" You cock your head and realize that you have a shadow.

It's a full moon. And I just stretched naked in front of a sliding glass door. "Oh. Huh. I guess I do forget. Oops. I'll be sure to keep that in mind now." Your seemingly tame answer is directly contradicted by the exaggerated roll of your hips that makes your butt bounce when you walk off. 

"Fucking menace, woman." Diego growls as you push the bathroom door shut with a trill of laughter.

You never do go back to bed but you do wind up on the beach in front of the casita to watch the sunrise. Julio finds you both snuggled together late the next morning, still asleep on the covered daybed under the palms while the rising tide comes ever closer. At least Julio has the decency to cover your bare ass with a beach towel.

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

By the time you think to check your phone gallery you have… 1,792 pictures. WHAT THE FUCK. 

You scroll through the pics, there are a lot you do not remember taking. Was I that drunk or did Diego take some of these? One is a close up of your ass from below wearing a string bikini, I knew I wasn't that drunk. The next pic is Diego asleep on a lounge chair, one arm curled up above his head, muscles glistening in the sun, and swim trunks so low on his hips that it's almost obscene. Immediately following that is the same pic but with your own face photobombing about three inches away from the camera and giving a thumbs up with your left hand so your engagement ring is prominently visible. Oh yeah, I remember that one. 

There are videos, too. The first one is Diego making lewd comments while you twerk in the ocean for about ten seconds. Okay, that's par for the course with us. Next is you successfully backflipping off of Diego's shoulders into the green water to everyone freaking out. Shit, even I'm impressed with myself. After that is video of you gagging through a dish of octopus at some restaurant. Both of you are clearly visible in the shot so Julio must have had the phone. Betrayal. 

There are tens of dozens of the two of you in various poses and outfits, both disgustingly happy and blatantly in love. There's even a role reversal shot of Diego sprawled across your lap, one enormous arm wrapped around your neck and his knees over your own arm while you grimace and he laughs hysterically. The table to your right is covered in empty bottles and mostly finished drinks. An entire subsection depicts you asleep like you have a stalker. You count no less than 29 of you two trying on increasingly ridiculous hats in random stores.

You can't even keep count of all the close ups of a smoldering Murder Panther. You feel no guilt.  Aren't you supposed to be ridiculously attracted to your fiancé??

Fiancé.

You have a fiancé. Your fiancé is Diego. You are engaged to Diego Rafael Jimenez. 

I have to explain this ring to everyone. They'll have questions about him. People will want pictures. How do I explain what he does?? Oh my god, there's no closet here. I have to… find somewhere. And I can't I can't. Its-

Your head jerks upright when something touches your hair. Its Diego. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he has unfurled a sheet over you to block out everything, and he waits there, watching you. Before you realize it your hands are reaching for his shoulders, just the feel of him, warm and solid under your hands, calms you. 

Slowly, his right hand comes up to cover your left. "No closet, Princess." His huge fingers grip yours tightly. You nod a little. He just watches you, eyes guarded. 

"Ask. Go ahead." You mutter. You can tell from his posture that he is uneasy, apprehensive. 

He locks eyes with you and his gaze is intense. He curls all of his fingers around your left ring finger. "Still yes?" 

The fear in his eyes breaks your heart. Your voice is shaky but determined, "No. You can't get rid of me. I'm your problem now, baby."  His expression would make a meeker woman cower in fear, you laugh weakly. 

He settles down on the tile floor in front of you, with the sheet over both of you. Its like four in the afternoon and I am sharing a blanket fort with my cartel boss fiancé while on vacation in Mexico. What even is my life? His elbows are on his knees, chin in hand. He studies you for a minute, you stare right back. He raises one eyebrow and you sigh in capitulation. 

"I don't know how to just be happy. I suck at it."  You shrug but reach for his face. Diego nuzzles into your hand while you stroke your thumb over his beard. 

"Habby isz nawt a berb." He slurs into your palm with a soft kiss.

The epiphany is like a cinder block to the brain. 

He's right. I don't have to 'do' anything. I'm happy right now. I've been happy every time I'm with him. And no one had to exert any effort.

People can define themselves. People can define their relationships. Why can't they define their own normal? I can make my own rules. Especially with someone like Diego as my partner.

His one eyebrow slowly rises as he watches your thoughts play out across your face. "You back?" He asks with a hidden smirk, you know its there from the way his eyes crinkle with laugh lines.

"Yup!" Is your decisive answer. Diego licks your palm. "I got better places you can lick, baby." You answer his smirk with a waggling eyebrow. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of play wrestling and inappropriate noises.

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

You do, in fact, go on a safari. Of sorts. Tours of ruins and jungle and cenotes, lots of side quests because the both of you are easily distracted by pretty colors. You probably added another thousand pictures of various palm trees to your gallery. The hat makes multiple appearances. 

Diego has to ship a crate home to New York because he bought you too many souvenirs. You laugh and tease him when he wants to pick out things for your middle sister and niece, until you hear his logic. 

"They were nice to me." He murmurs with a little half-shrug, "It was like being in a real family for a little bit." He studies the bins of painted shells on display in the little store with way too much focus.

You spend a moment deliberating before you decide to reach out and touch his elbow.

 "Hey," your soft voice brings his gaze your way momentarily before he goes back to ceramic turtle magnets. You take his hand with your own right and rest your left hand on his chest. Diego looks down where your ring glints in the light, then up to your face. "You know you're going to be part of that 'real' family, right?"

Diego's boyish little smile is heartbreakingly adorable. 

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

The flight home is much shorter than you want it to be and you spend most of it asleep on Diego. At one point you wake up to see Bastian and Joey cuddled up together napping. When you look up from where your head is resting in Diego's lap he is already looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"What?" You whisper softly. You stifle a yawn and blink repeatedly. 

Diego strokes one big hand over your hair and grips your jaw firmly. With a huge toothy grin he answers, "Mine." 

"Uh huh. How many times you need me to say yes, baby?" You smirk up at him with an arched brow. He seems to be reveling in hearing you readily admit your commitment to him.

He considers your question carefully while his other hand trails down the front of your body under a blanket. I don't remember having a blanket earlier. Finally, Diego settles on "Every day. At least seven times. Seven is a good number, right Princess?" 

Your body jerks as his fingers press between your thighs with steady determination. Your eyes flick over to Bastian and Joey, still out cold. You make a show of wiggling around to get comfortable, and, surprisingly, that involves spreading your legs. "Yessss." You hiss up at him.

Julio reclines his seat and exaggeratedly covers his face with a new hat. 

Seven is a very good number.

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

Your first day back to work is a circus. You don't think twice about your normal greeting as you enter the office suite. You swipe your badge with your right hand and pop the door, then wave 'hi' to everyone. Like usual. With your left hand. 

There is an excessive amount of squealing that makes you second guess going into a female dominated field. The whole day is a wash because you have a steady stream of people passing through your cubicle. You're glad you had the forethought to curate a photo album of appropriate images to show your coworkers despite Diego's repeated attempts to sneak a dick pic in there somewhere. You most definitely included the glistening swim trunks lounge chair picture. Squealing intensifies.

Everyone comments on the hat and you're forced to tell the story of the hat. How you once told Diego that you wanted to see palm trees, 'But like, in the wild.' And Diego had laughed so hard that he fell off the bed only to pop back up wheezing about a 'Palm Tree Safari' until you smacked him in the face with a pillow. Your coworkers think it is just disgustingly adorable that he never let you live that down. 

Your coworkers have questions:

When is the wedding? 

Where are you having it?

What kind of dress do you want?

What are your colors?

Are you going to do flowers?

What about the cake?

Who is your maid of honor?

How did your family take the news?

What about his family?

Are you going to New York?

Will you take his name?

Oh shit. I forgot about the whole 'wedding' part of this.