#mr cartel himself

[nachov]

the only thing good about the cartel is that they paid for my top surgery

[purplelupins]

Salvador

|Better Call Saul|

Part I Part II

Lalo Salamanca/Fem!reader

Word count: 16k

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

Warnings: slow burn, age gap, manipulation, intimidation, violence (see note), smut (p in v), fingering, degradation and praise, edging, pet names (niña, niñita, princesita, Cariño, Ratoncito) Spanish (have a translator ready), papi kink, Lalo kinda comes with his own warnings, I’m not an electrician or doctor

MINORS DNI I AM NOT GOING TO ASK AGAIN

Notes: this part contains detailed violence (domestic violence, gun shots, talking about death), and smut.

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Lalo sat in his car watching that laundry facility like it was a ticking time bomb. Indeed it was his time bomb and he would be there when it went off. It was only a matter of time before he confirmed his theory. He knew that crisp Mr. Fring was hiding something fantastical behind his trustworthy, efficient methods. And when that moment came, and the bomb exploded…Lalo would bask in the heat of its flames on his cheeks-

The obnoxious ringing of his phone snapped his focus in half. The little screen sat illuminated as it continued on its insistent noise. Lalo stared at it, and was about yo snap it shut, and fling it into the back seat until he saw the number; his eye twitched.

He knew exactly who it was.

They hadn’t called him during watch hours for months.

The older man calmly answered it, and held it to his ear, and waited.

It wasn’t a full minute that had passed when Lalo hung up the phone, and was peeling out of his watchpoint fast enough to leave two black tire marks.

There was no doubt that he could have simply told his uncle’s men to deal with it; to dismiss whatever was transpiring and move on, not caring if you were alright or what you were going through.

Then he could have moved on with monitoring the facility.

Easy.

But there was something that ignited inside Lalo when his tio’s guy recounted what had happened. He knew he shouldn’t give a rats ass about going there himself- that was why he had those men there. Lalo could feel that awareness eat at him as he sped through the city, but he crushed it down. There were very few thoughts in his head as he drove, and questioning why he was doing what he was doing, and psychoanalyzing himself was not one of them. He never questioned himself, not really; he just…did.

Lalo pulled in outside your shitty building, and didn’t wait for the men to speak as they joined him on the sidewalk. He took a look up at your window, and felt his left hand twitch when he saw the dim light.

“No entres hasta que yo te lo diga, ¿entendido?” He rumbled, not taking his eyes off the window as he turned and began striding up to the building. The men stayed behind, just as he said. Lalo reached into the back of his jeans with one hand and into his pock with the other, pulling out his pistol and silencer. The metal pieces rolled together easily in his hands; just as seamlessly as he hid his gun, and smiled charmingly at an old lady as she held the door open for him as she took her little dog out for a pee. It was so dark she didn’t see how dead his eyes were. How his soul was leaving them with each passing second.

Lalo began planning his next few moves depending on what was occurring inside your apartment. Were you a plant from another cartel and this was your handler? Were you law enforcement undercover? The older man simultaneously thought over each possibility.

He took the flight of stairs up to your floor, and quieted his footsteps as soon as his eyes fell upon your door. Lalo had stood there once before weeks ago, gun in hand just as it was now…but he had left after just a moment. Killing you wasn’t worth it.

Once he was outside your apartment, he leaned in, and listened.

There was a raised voice inside. An angry one at that too. And a cry.

Lalo didn’t dwell on what it was saying or who it might be; he raised his foot and kicked right next to the lock on the door. It burst open. The older man took three strides inside as the door bounced off the wall as he surveyed and took in the scene before him. His eyes flicked from detail to detail rapidly, piecing everything together in seconds.

The lamp you used was kicked over and partially broken- only the lightbulb was intact, and partially at that. In the low light, he could still see that you were curled up against a wall; broken objects, scuff marks and blood around you and behind you. You were sobbing…shaking. Your hands were over head, arms in front of your knees…bruised and bloody.

There was indeed a man there, just as Hector’s men had said. He was standing over you with his back to the door, words spewing from his mouth at you. His shadow ate your little form up.

The man had begun to turn towards Lalo as he walked into the apartment, but his fate was sealed as soon as Lalo saw his bloody knuckles.

Your blood.

Lalo didn’t stop to ask any questions or make a snark comment before he emptied his gun’s clip into the man’s body. The bullets shredded his flesh, spattering blood as the metal existed his back. Lalo didn’t lower his gun until the man began to crumble to the floor, and he watched despondently as blood started pooling around him. It began to fill each little crack and groove in the wooden floor.

There was a beat of silence following the last shot before Lalo pulled his phone from his pocket.

It only rang once.

“Hecho.” He muttered, then hung up.

Then as he slipped his phone back into his pocket…he saw you.

Actually saw you.

Lalo let his gaze wander over your shaking form. You resembled more of a stray animal than a young woman covered in blood. Your knuckles were white from how tightly your were holding your head. He watched the man’s blood that had spattered onto you mix with your own from the wounds he had inflicted. Then, once the noise faded away, and there was no movement, you began to unfurl. Your arms came down jerkily, and you tentatively rose your head up to see what had happened; you eyes were wide, and puffy. Cheeks flushed against your blanched skin.

His hand twitched.

Your dazed eyes slowly refocused. It took a moment before you followed the edge of the pool of blood to the body now laying on the floor; limp and cold. Lalo could visibly see the scene in front of you settle in your mind while you unclamped your legs from your chest. You slowly got to your knees, eyes still trained on the body, and sat there. The older man didn’t move an inch as he watched you; he was fascinated. He realized this must have been your first time seeing a dead body.

He felt honoured.

You didn’t cry, or scream, or cower in fear. You just looked.

It was as if you were in a trance as you finally rose to your feet; your eyes void of any emotion, mouth in a plain line. Indifferent. Analytical.

Lalo might have been a man of many words, but as you took a few difficult steps towards the body, the older man chose to observe you silently.

For the first time since your door had been slammed in your face that evening, your eyes weren’t hazy. You walked to the edge of the pool of blood, and stared down at the body. He looked so human…so much less of a devil than he had when he was alive. This man who had been nothing but a living nightmare for you was…gone. In a matter of three seconds, he was completely gone.

You didn’t know how he had found you… or why. You tried to remember the moment you had first seen him, but he had some so much damage to you over your relationship that you couldn’t recall your first date. Couldn’t recall a lot in fact.

You took another step forward and stood in the blood of your ex-boyfriend. Then as the warm liquid slipped between your toes, something in you completely snapped. Broke.

You were flooded with the first memory you had of blood. You had scraped you knee and someone kissed it better…told you it would be alright and to keep playing. You remembered how smiling used to be so easy and not an invitation for people to think you were soft or easy. You remembered that girl who grew up and saw the best in people. Who had her likes and dislikes and didn’t base her personality on whatever someone wanted to see. You remembered her. And you remembered how he erased her. How he told her that he would keep her safe, but he betrayed that trust at every turn with a perfect lie or justification to draw her back in.

The blood surrounded your feet. Your eyes slowly sharpened, and without another thought, you rose your leg up and delivered a form kick to your ex’s limp side, shoving him a foot across the floor.

He looked so small now…so insignificant…and you felt the fear you had of him melt away, and hate take its place. Resentment, frustration, sadness…it all flooded in.

So you kicked him again.

You still hadn’t fully registered Lalo’s presence, and he was content with staying a part of the background as you began to show him this hidden part of you. Vicious. Vindictive. The parts of him that only the very unlucky saw- it was spectacular to see them mirrored back to him.

You were ruthless.

You kicked the body again, and again and again until he was shoved a few feet from where he had fallen, and there was a streak of blood in his wake. Tears began to stream down your cheeks and your skin felt as if it was burning. It was overwhelming as you beat him with every bit of energy you had left.

A pressure began to build in your chest, and you half wondered if you were going to throw up or pass out from how much you were feeling all at once, but then words formed on your tongue and you let them out.

“You SON OF A BITCH, YOU FUCKING RUINED ME.” Your broken cry filled the apartment, and Lalo’s eye twitched slightly at your raised voice. You were letting go. You were in a frenzy; overtaken by everything you never let yourself say or feel, “I don’t even know WHO THE FUCK I AM ANYMORE! YOU’RE BETTER DEAD YOU ROTTING FUCKER-“ you kicked and stomped and kicked again and again, even when your feet hurt. A snap sounded through the apartment but you were too far gone to realize it was his ribs snapping and caving in.

Blind rage had overtaken you. You couldn’t think as you continued your assault.

You didn’t see Lalo move- too focused on the body under you to notice him until a pair of strong hands grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from the body- bloody footprints on the floor from where you staggered back.

“Okay, I think you got him.” Lalo laughed as he hauled you away.

But your adrenaline was still raging through in you. Regardless of his thick arms locked around you, you started squirming in his hold. Anger fuelled you and you fought to try and get back to the body. Needing to hurt him as much as he hurt you, but Lalo secured his arms around you better, and hoisted you away from your living room and into your small kitchen.

But still, you couldn’t think. All you knew was that someone was stopping you from getting back at the person who had destroyed you. It didn’t matter that it was Lalo Salamanca who was doing it, you didn’t even know it was him; he was just arms and a voice and you needed him to let you go.

Without thinking, you spun in his tight hold and hit him.

A smack right on his cheek.

Then all at once, you saw him.

The sting on the palm of your hand seemed to wake you up, and as Lalo dropped his arms to his sides, you saw exactly who had fired that gun…who had picked you up…who you had hit.

His grey curl hung over his forehead, and his mouth sat in a line under his neat moustache.

You might have been horribly startled by his stony face…but it was his eyes that made you keep from asking for forgiveness.

They were black, and they glittered in the low light.

But they weren’t furious.

There was a moment of silence that stretched for far longer that you knew how to measure; he was processing you. You and the smack.

“Again.”

You blinked, having not been sure if you had heard him correctly or if he had even spoken or if you had imagined it all. And evidently you weren’t functioning fast enough for Lalo’s liking.

The older man broke into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he stared you down, “Okay, how about I put on his shirt and we play pretend-“

Smack.

You hit him again.

He smiled a little wider, “There she goes c’mon.” He goaded you.

So you did.

Smack.

Then it was like a dam broke. You started beating on him. You jabbed and punched and shoved and slapped his chest, and arms, and stomach. You hit him like your life depended on it. You hit him until your arms hurt more than your heart.

And the entire time, he didn’t move an inch; the man was sturdy enough that you weren’t doing any real damage to him. Even when four men he had called walked into the apartment and began breaking the body down, he didn’t say a word. He shot them a look that was more terrifying than a loaded gun to the balls, but that was it. He let you have your moment. And it was likely for the best- watching a man get sawed into pieces and bagged up was not an easy sight to behold.

It was only when he decided the men were taking too long that he slowly retrieved his gun from the back of his jeans and calmly pointed it at them without taking his eyes off you. They scampered out within minutes; just a drying puddle of blood left behind.

You didn’t even know how you were still moving your arms anymore. It was pure adrenaline fuelling you. Slowly your mind began to go hazy and dim…the extreme emotions slowly leaving you.

Then, you felt your arms stop responding as your wrists were restrained. You blinked and looked up from where you had been targeting, and were met with those onyx eyes.

They were locked on you- following your every twitch and move.

“Enough.”

His voice was a rumble that made your head light.

There was no smile on Lalo’s face, no mirth. He was focused and you couldn’t bring yourself to even breathe properly lest it make you move too much. A drop of dread fell from the base of your skull down to your toes and settled into the soles of your feet. You felt cold.

Then, the older man took a single step forward that made you stumble a little but you only looked away from him for a moment as you recovered. He took another, propelling you with him as he backed you against the wall between your livingroom and your kitchen. Your skin suddenly felt far too warm, and it tingled like pins and needles.

Lalo weighed your soul; his heavy gaze had you in shackles and you were helpless to try and get away from it. You had yet to see this amount of intensity from the man, and you were certain that he was preparing to end you. That he would take that pistol back out and fire a new hole into your head.

But the longer you stood there, the calmer you got- much to your surprise. You were still on edge, but your breathing came easier, and you let your gaze flick between his eyes, to the lines on his face, to his brows, his moustache, and that grey streak. Lalo pressed against you and the wall dug into your back but still you didn’t move. You let him invade your space and breathe your air, in fact you almost found yourself drawing him a little closer; pulling the wrists he held towards yourself. And to your surprise, you felt him push back, making your chest tight with how much pressure was on it with his weight. You could feel his breathing against you; every inhale and exhale.

His scent intoxicated you, as did his warmth. It made you forget how afraid you were, and lulled you. You could feel your heart just about beat out of your chest. However despite your sense of calm, you wouldn’t help but feel as if he was just a very cunning predatory making sure his prey wasn’t afraid before he pounced; making sure the meat wasn’t spoiled.

But then, a charming smile took over his face, and just like that, it was as if nothing had happened.

“Look what a mess you are! Let’s get you all cleaned, eh?” He chirped and stepped away from you.

You had jumped when he spoke, and felt yourself cool down almost instantly. Perhaps it was something akin to Stockholm syndrome but you felt yourself missing his chest crushing yours.

“Remind me to not get on your bad side,” he said in a jaunty laugh, “Man, you sure know how to knock a guy around. Damn.” Lalo touched his chest where you had been hitting, but didn’t stop smiling. His hands left you, and he began navigating through your apartment easily, like he had been there before. The older man hummed an old tune as he entered your washroom, and began looking through the cupboards; you were about to wonder what he was doing as your brain played catch-up, but you remembered him saying he was going to clean you up…whatever that meant.

Everything still felt so surreal to you. You stared down at your hands, and the flecks of blood there, wondering if any of it had even happened or if you were having a dream. It wasn’t until you blinked a few times and focused on breathing that you remembered that you were still in your less then modest sleep clothes. You looked around for something to cover yourself a little better, but you missed your opportunity when Lalo came striding back to you, perfectly comfortable in the space like it was a Sunday afternoon in his own home.

“Okaay…” he said to himself as he put down the supplies he had grabbed. Just as you looked at the materials, he wordlessly hoisted you up onto your kitchen counter. You gasped a little, but he seemed unbothered as he ignored your squirming and stood between your knees. You watched his large hand grab a wetted cloth and start wiping away at your skin; you were covered in blood and sweat. The older man cleaned you carefully and meticulously; he tutted the split skin and the harsh bruises forming, shaking his head at particularly bad ones. He gave you a scolding look when you nervously held your shirt down when he tried to lift it to inspect your ribs- tilting his head and pursing his mouth as if to chastise you.

So you let him. He was gentlemanly enough to only raise it to look at your torso…making sure nothing was broken. Lucky for you, nothing was. Bruised, yes, but not broken. Regardless of your luck, you forced yourself to ignore how warm his calloused hands were when they pressed down on your ribs. Oddly gentle. Comforting.

Once he deemed you clean enough, Lalo began dragging cotton pads soaked in peroxide over your cuts; he shushed you when the chemical stung too much.

Everything seemed so calm. There was no screaming, no sirens or things being thrown. It was late…and it was quiet. It was just you and him in your small kitchen; it was as if he had blocked out what you had done just a half hour earlier- beating and shoving at him like he was a punching bag.

You found yourself watching him carefully, half expecting him to break the act and snap your ankle as he inspected it, or spit in your face and hold a gun to your temple. But he didn’t even show a slight sign of ill intent. He just continued to bandage you.

There was no doubt in you that you were in deep debt to the Salamancas now. And while you were fairly naive to it, you knew that such a thing was practically a death sentence. Lalo had killed for you whether you wanted him to or not. He had saved you. There was no coming back from that.

Regardless of the weight settling on your shoulders, there was a calmness you felt as his warmth radiated into you from standing so close to you. You could feel his breath on your skin and all you could smell was him; smoke and some kind of spice, and a little tequila or whiskey. It was in his clothes and his skin. Everywhere. His touch was like a brand- scorching your skin.

There was a gash on your arm from where your ex had come at you with a knife; Lalo cleaned the blood away, and pressed down to see how deep it was. You jerked at the pain, but he tsked you and his large hand gripped you tighter, “Ah ah, hold still.” He murmured.

Your eyes flickered over his face, and you worried the inside of your lip, “S-sorry.” You said softly.

A simple but not altogether peaceful silence filled the space as another few minutes passed as he wrapped your arm. The only noise that ended it was the phone in his pocket ringing. You jumped at the sound, while Lalo merely blinked and pulled the device out and held it to his ear as he checked over your face.

The older man brought a hand up to your chin, and tilted your head side to side while inspecting you. You let him, moving your head as he wished.

“Buen.” He rumbled, and you held his gaze, intimidating as it was. Then, he pulled the phone away and snapped it shut before slipping it back into his pocket.

Lalo squinted at a mark on your cheek, and grabbed the cloth again to wipe it.

“Moron beat the shit outta you…” he remarked almost to himself.

You nodded, and smiled a tiny bitter smile as he signed and tossed the closed into the sink; wrappers from bandages and blots of blood on the counter.

“I used to love him…” you whispered, “Turned out to be a real piece of work…” you smiled again, just briefly, in spite of the pain and shock, “He hated life…and life hated him back…” you were just rambling and thinking out loud, but Lalo listened. Perhaps you were boring him a little, but he was curious about exactly who he was dealing with.

You remembered something then, “Did you know he hated Mexican food? Claimed paprika was spicy.”

Lalo gasped and widened his eyes comically. “No! Estoy jodidamente contento de que esté muerto entonces…” he shook his head.

You snorted and laughed dryly, nodding your head.

Then, after a moment, you looked over at the drying blood on the floor. You flinched at the memory of him forcing his way into your home…how horrifying it was to see him so suddenly. But the longer you looked, the less you felt. In you peripheral, you could see Lalo crumpling the bandage wrappers in his hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

Lalo looked up at you then, and followed your gaze, but you spoke again before he could reply.

“I-…I think I would have done the same, you know.”

This made him pause for a moment.

“If I- if I found someone threatening you or Hector…and I had a gun…I would have done the same.” You knew they weren’t the words of a completely sane person but you said them anyways.

Lalo laughed, “Big talk for a mouse!” He smiled wolfishly.

You stared back at him. “I mean it.”

You realized that you really did mean it. You knew that somehow you were so far gone that you would let blood get on your hands for them. But somehow that didn’t scare you.

The older man shifted and leaned forward between your knees again- bracing himself on his hands as he placed them on either side of you. He was invading your space again, but you held firm. There was no room left in you for fear. You were exhausted and aching.

“You trying to tell me little ratoncito would kill for a Salamanca?” He had an amused smile on his face, but you noted his emotionless eyes- like he was daring you to take back what you said.

A part of you was telling you to- to say you didn’t mean it and tell him you wouldn’t tell anyone what had transpired there that night. But that part of you was stupid, and you were not stupid. Not that stupid. You knew that was a one way ticket to an early grave, so you nodded your weary head.

“Don’t know how good of a shot I am but it’s the thought that counts right?” Your mouth quirked up a little at your horrible joke. You supposed it was a stress reaction to cope.

And Lalo laughed. A single bark of a laugh. “I am so glad you’re funny ninita.” He wagged his finger at you. His face had been so firm as you explained yourself, that now seeing him smile set you a little at ease. The older man pulled away from breathing your air and walked to the sink to wash his hands,“Now what are we going to do about this?” He asked casually.

His question was simple, but it made your heart thump hard. “About?” You asked.

Lalo looked brightly at you as he dried his hands. “You want to say thank you to me, sì?”

You stared at him and you knew there was only one answer. “Of course.” You said.

Lalo smiled. “Esa es mi chica.”

He grabbed one of the two chairs from your small table, and turned it around for him to sit. He spread his knees and leaned forward onto them as he weighed your existence with those brown eyes of his. There was only the faint tapping of water dripping from the faucet as Lalo regarded you- still sat on your kitchen counter. Bruised and battered. Alive thanks to him.

“That cute stunt you pulled at Los Pollos Hermanos…can you do it again?” He asked, lacing his fingers together in front of him. The picture of ease and calm.

“Yes.” You didn’t miss a beat. You had come to terms with the fact that you would do what you did again if need be a while ago.

“Bigger?” He asked.

Your stomach twisted a little. The idea made you nervous, but you knew you could do it.

“Yes.” You answered.

Lalo smiled again and wagged a finger at you. “Ratoncito loco, lo juro...”

You didn’t return the smile, but your face softened. “I’ve been called worse.” You mused, then looked back down at your hand and the blue bruises turning to purple.

The older man didn’t say anything, but he watched you while you fiddled with a bandage and absentmindedly swung your feet slightly.

He looked at you properly in the dim light of your simple apartment. You weren’t frail per se, but you had a certain exhaustion to you that scratched an itch in Lalo’s mind. A tiredness of the world you knew, of the people around you, of who you had become. Yet in spite of that, there was a firecracker inside you waiting to burst into flame; you had a bite to you, even if it was small. Lalo could work with that.

The blood wasn’t as difficult to get out of your floor as you thought it would be.

Your landlady thankfully didn’t put up too much of an argument when you told her you were leaving and breaking your tenancy. You had a feeling it wasn’t just her being nice.

The motel room you were now living out of wasn’t horrible. The extra couple hundreds Lalo had given you when he told you where to stay helped too. Sure the commute to work was a little longer but it wasn’t like you had a choice.

Your eyes were a little more glazed over at work now. You wondered how much longer you would be there. That night, Lalo had given you a date and time and location for your repayment, and now you were counting down the days. It was only a few, but time seemed to pass so quickly and so slowly simultaneously.

Your instructions were fairly simple, in theory. Make the buildings power short circuit if Lalo didn’t call you by 11:42pm. Following that and your escape, you were to go to new motel, and lay low for a few days until you got more instructions.

That or you assumed someone would show up to clean you up as a lose end.

He didn’t tell you why he give you such a specific time, but you assumed there was some kind of shift change over for security at 11:45pm, and wanted those three minutes to carry out some kind of plan B.

Which was why your knee bounced as you see as t in your car across from some massive laundry facility. As you waited, you scanned over the blueprints to the building that you had managed to get from city hall. Evidently a forced smile had been enough to get the clerk to hand it over, and a pouty lip and claiming to be a stressed collage student with a paper due to let you take it home. Once upon a time you would have wanted to wretch at the thought of having done that, but somehow you found yourself…indifferent. Like a part of your anxiety died that night with your ex.

The service road was dim, and your pulse was working double time.

You checked your watch. It read 11:25pm.

A part of you wondered exactly what was set to happen inside that building, but you assumed it could mean your death if you asked. Somewhere in your gut you knew it was an attempt to destroy that man from Los Pollos…it couldn’t be a coincidence that Lalo had asked you to do exactly what you had done again for someone else when he had been so pleased with seeing that restaurant crumble.

So you gathered what you needed and shoved it into a small pouch, said a prayer, and got out of your car. You knew it was a 50/50 chance of Lalo calling you to stop you, but you needed to be ready. If you were only halfway there when he called it might be a big enough mistake that would cost him his life.

It was a fairly quick trip to the building, albeit a stressful one. The fence surrounding the warehouse was thankfully not electrified, though it was still very uncomfortable to scale. A day previously you had managed to find a low point that would be easier to get back over when you were escaping too.

As you waiter for the rotation of guards to get to their blind point, you leapt up and rolled yourself over the top of the metal fence, landing with a fairly ungrateful thud and a cloud of dust that was thankfully covered by the darkness.

You crouched low, and held onto the strap of your pouch. There were men everywhere watching, but you were small and unassuming in the shadows. You hoped you could channel that inner mouse that Lalo claimed you had, though it was a long shot. With another breath, you pulled your medical mask up over your face’s lower half as you sped from one shadow to another. It was an odd atmosphere there- you felt as if you were walking into Area 51. It was deserted and eerie aside from the security. You might have not been to a laundry processing warehouse before but you sure as shit were certain that this level of security was odd.

You clung to the side of the building; your heart in your ears. Time was on your side for once, as you checked your watch again, and noted that you still had 7 minutes before you potentially had to clip and cross and overload the building’s wiring. Perhaps you spoke a little soon though as you had begun to go a little too fast towards the back of the building and missed getting spotted by a man by a centimetre. The toes of your shoes stuck out of the thin shadow that concealed you, but evidently they weren’t enough to draw the attention of the guard. You thanked god for the emergency ladder beside you for partially hiding you too.

You found the back entrance and worked your way along to find the main control panel. Shadows moved out of the corner of your eye, making your mind play tricks on you, and you felt chills run up and down your spine; then you found it. The panel came into view, and you checked the area around you once more as you opened your bag. There were three thick locks over the latches that opened the door, and you sighed as you looked at them. Your metal tools felt very cold in your hands.

There was no going back now.

You slipped your picking tools inside the first lock, began pressuring the mechanisms inside of the lock. You were still rusty, but your life was on the line, so you didn’t have room for a botched job. After a few minutes, you felt the device click and pop open- relief filled you. It was short lived though when you remembered that you had a maximum of 5 minutes before the next rotation of guards began their way to you.

The thought of getting caught made your hands shake, but not as much as the thought of the Salamancas coming after you. You worked at the next lock and focused on sleeping in a dry motel that night instead of your body being tossed into a shallow grave or left in the desert like some insignificant roadkill.

The second lock popped open after a few moments, and you checked your watch.

11:40pm.

As the time grew closer to when you might need to blow this building's circuits, you felt an odd clarity come over you- tinkering away at the last lock. You might have been in danger. You might have been caught up in a cartel. You might have been alone. You might have been a witness to a murder.

But you weren’t afraid. Disturbed by your possible fate, perhaps, but not afraid. You were exhausted of being afraid all the time.

The lock popped open, and you stared at it calmly.

You have a job to do.

The metal door opened with a screech, and you enhaled deeply when you saw the massive circuit-board and hundreds of fuses, and wires wrapped and bound together. You were certain your ex was calling you a hypocrite from his place Hell.

You checked your watch again.

11:42pm.

You sucked in another breath, and stared at your shaking hands like it might help to stop the tremors. It didn’t.

The silence was heavy around you, and you stood in it for another second before your little alarm went off.

"Okay..." You whispered to yourself. Your mask made your breath feel moist and hot. Your hands took purchase on your wire cutters and pliers, and you stared at some weak points. You wanted the fuses to blow on their own, so you started with flipping off and switches with wires connected that you wanted to clip or mess with. Lights shut off around you, but there was enough for you to see what you were doing as you reworked some of the wire positions, and clipped and tugged. Then once you were satisfied, you took a deep breath and turned every single switch on. For any building, it was t advised for every power-drawer to be on at once if unnecessary…for good reason. There was a low hum that began to emit from the panel. The tampered fuses and wiring forcing more and more strain on other areas so they would start tripping.

A spark startled you. Then another. Then another. You watched the entire panel start to malfunction. Then, there were shouts of panic around the building as a power grid shut off in the lot, which you took that as your cue to run.

With your pliers and white cutters in your bag, you shut the panel door and locked it back up in record time. Then, you faced the fence, and ran.

You didn't care that the lights were shutting down all around you. All you knew was you had instructions, and you were certainly going to follow them. You came to the edge of the front of the building and paused in the shadows as groups of men scattered around the dusty lot. Your heart was racing in your chest, but you could see your car just beyond the light, and you expected some kind of relief to wash over you but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a deep pit forming in your stomach.

Lalo hadnt called you.

Of course you hoped that it was simply because his plan went accordingly and having the cover of darkness and chaos was what he needed and...not that it was because he had been shot and bled out before he could call you. The idea that he might have met the fate that you had dreaded for yourself suddenly made you-

Ring ring ring

You froze.

The quiet ring tone made you scramble to answer your phone before it attracted attention. You pulled it from your jacket and wrenched your mask down to breathe when you saw the number.

His.

The same number he had put on a piece of paper for you a month ago.

A million and a half thoughts went through your head as you stared down at the little screen, but the only one you could focus on was the possibility that Lalo was in trouble. That he needed you.

You hit answer, and held the phone to your ear. "Hello?" You whispered, pressing yourself against the side of the building.

There was a strained breath on the other end. "You busy, princesita?"

You couldn’t breathe. He wasnt supposed to call you. That was never a part of any plan he told you.

"No." You managed to get out, eyes unfocused as you tried to remember the blueprints of the building.

"Mind giving me a hand?" He asked just as carefree as he always was, but you knew better. There was a tightness to his voice. He was hurt. Badly too, if he was calling you.

"Wh-where are you?" You asked, already searching for your flashlight in your bag as another few light grids shut off around you.

"You’re- mierda...You’re gonna come in through the main door, okay? Th-through the door with the window... At the end- ah...end of those washers and shit, theres gonna be a door behind one..." He coughed, and you heard him suck in a breath.

You nodded frantically to yourself as you recalled the drawing of the building. Seems that Chicken man was up bro more than just a restaurant. "Okay, okay I- I remember where that is. I’m coming just- just dont die!" You said in a rush.

"Klah! Me? Never." You heard him say, but you were already flipping the phone shut. Lights were flickering like mad as you began inching around to the front of the building, and your eyes began playing tricks on you as they strained to function in the changing a brightness.

To your luck, the front was almost devoid of security as they all ran to the back or inside. You heard radios going off and yells and orders being barked out, but somehow no one saw you.

You crept along the blue facility until you made it to the door. It sat open, and you didn’t waste any time as you slipped inside past the massive bins.

You were alone. For now.

You clicked on your flashlight and you were indeed surrounded by massive industrial washers. It was admittedly overwhelming, but you forced your brain to focus. You looked at each end of the main walkway of the processing room just as Lalo had told you to, and you noticed that a washer at one end was off kilter. You didn’t have time yo weigh the pros and cons of choosing to investigate it, but when you went to run, the sound of footsteps halted you. You clicked off your flashlight.

"The hell is going on in there- this shits supposed to be secure..." You heard a ma n say, and a grumble from another man. You looked around and ducked behind one of the washers; evidently just in time too as the men passed by you just several feet away.

“Where the hell is Mike?” One asked.

You let out a relieved breath when they didn’t turn around or stop to check on your heavy breathing, but it caught in your throat when you saw the guns in their belts glint in the little light. The very real situation that you had just ran into settled into your mind. That you were in the middle of a very messy cartel issue. Something that even Lalo hadn’t meant for you to get mixed in.

You waited until they left, and it grew quiet again before you flicked your light on again, and made a break for the washer. You hoped to god that you weren't too late in your search.

The amount of sound from your feet was too loud, but you didn’t dare stop. You hoped no one would care in the chaos you had created. The sound of other footsteps began to echo around you and you felt a weight on your chest like you were running from a loaded gun but you didn’t look back.

When you were just feet away, you saw the edge of a hidden door. You internally rejoiced, but it was short-lived when you remembered a man might be dying. You whipped around the corner of it, and followed the route of the stairs down. You didn’t have time to consider you might be going the wrong way, so you clamoured down as fast and quietly as you humanly could. Your feet were surprisingly soundless as you inched along the catwalks and flashed your light here and there along the scaffolding.

*What the hell is this place...*

Your heart was in your throat. You could smell dirt and machinery-

You stopped. A sound caught your ears, and you listened for it again. There- a wheeze.

"S-Señor Lalo?" You whispered, creeping down the steps, flashing your light across the expansive space.

You continued down, down, down until you were at the second to last flight of stairs when you jumped and almost fell back. Your flashlight caught a sight that chilled you.

"Eh…Hola niñita, fancy seeing you here!"

Just a couple feet down from you sat the very man who had called you. Your blood went cold when you saw Lalo laying there on the stairs with blood seeping out of his side and neck where he was pressing down.

"L-Lalo-" You whispered, rooted to the spot. Not even the sight of your ex shot dead had rendered you so motionless.

"Not to rush you princesa, but I’ve felt better." He forced out, glancing down at his side that was getting more saturated with blood by the second.

Your senses suddenly went into hyperdrive, and you almost jumped down the couple steps to crouch at his side. You placed your flashlight into the crook of your neck and held it there with your cheek as you pulled his hand from his jugular. A little relief filled you when you noted that the artery wasn’t hit and the bullet just skimmed him.

"Okay, you’re okay." You muttered to him, "Lets get you up."

You were so focused as you started positioning yourself for some leverage that you missed the fact that his eyes hadn't left you. Then he sighed and waved you off.

"Need...the camera..." He rumbled and pointed down.

You stared at him in confusion then followed his finger and held your light again to follow the beam.

Sure enough, 20 feet below you in the dirt was a camcorder.

You nodded silently, not even considering the possibility of arguing, and leapt over him before clamouring down the stairs. Your feet hit dirt and you looked around frantically for the device. The metal caught the light of your flashlight, and as you sped over to it, tried to ignore the various trails of blood in the soil. You grasped the camera and slipped it into your pouch along side your other supplies as you scaled the stairs, light jumping with every step.

As you came back to his side, you wordlessly gripped Lalo’s hand and elbow, and gingerly began to help him stand; you had expected him to wince or protest, but all you heard was him groan a little and wave you off like a fly.

"Shit shot..." He rumbled.

You looked at him as you ignored his gesture, and guided him up, "Wh-"

"Chicken Man he was a shit fucking shot...could’ve at least killed me. Now look at me…" He shook his head like he was more disappointed than distressed.

You huffed out a stressed laugh and looked back at him, then swore under your breath.

"What? I look that bad?" He joked.

You shook your head and moved your flashlight to your mouth and your pressed your free hand to his neck as it continued to gush. He was paler and paler by the second.

"Step." You muttered, again you ignored any of his attempts to be independent, and together you began your ascent up the narrow metal stairs.

His pace was determined and you briefly wondered if he was human as he seemed to ignore his wounds. Your steps fell into sync, and you were thankful for the silence between you as you tried to figure out what the hell you were going to do. As you reached the top of the stairs, you mentally began to map out the building in your head in relation to where you were. You couldn't just walk out the front door, and you couldn’t use the back exit either; no doubt there were men stationed at every exit…

You hesitated slightly just inside hidden door, and thought for a moment. You could hear voices outside, and footsteps...the place was crawling with people. With guns.

Your mind worked overtime and while you couldn't think of a perfect solution, you had one that would hopefuly end with the least amount of bullets in you. Without another thought, you flicked off your light and looked at Lalo as darkness engulfed you. Just like you, he didnt say a word. He knew you were thinking- keeping your word that you would effectively put yourself in harms way for him.

You stuck your head out briefly to see how clean the path was, and once you were satisfied, you sucked in a breath and looked back at the older man by your side. He nodded down at you as best he could and the two of you took a step out into the laundry facility.

You both crept along one of the washers, and glanced out at the room. A person came around the corner of one of the machines, flashlight in hand and you quickly moved the two of you back. Lalo hissed at the quick movement, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough. The footsteps came and went, as did a few others along with shouting. You chanced a glance out again, and this time, you went for it.

"Cmon." You whispered.

Lalo let you take his arm, and you guided him along the machines to a service hall where it was less exposed. You could hear people running , and tires screeching outside and orders being barked out, but all you could do was focus on letting your eyes adjust to the darkness and making sure you didn’t trip or take a wrong turn. Once you were halfway down the hall, a door opened at the other end, and you felt bile rise in your throat. You acted on instict and pressed Lalo into the nearest open door and held your breath. You couldn’t see him clearly, but you could feel Lalo’s warm chest rising and falling against you. You watched the flashlight of the person bob around out in the hall beyond the door and prayed that the person wouldn’t look in the doorway.

Your muscles seazed up as you waited and held your breath...then the person was gone. You breathed out and quickly grabbed the older man and began the last leg of the journey. You shouldered open the door at the end, and sure enough, there was an exit up to the roof. You looked around vaguly at the dark room and noted that there were no windows, and turned your light back on.

"You first Señor." You said and nodded to the ladder. Lalo stared at you, hard.

Then he nodded, and began hoisting himself up the ladder. You shone your light up for him to see where he was going and waited until he was at the top before following behind him quickly. At the top, you wrenched the small door open and almost fell out onto the roof. You looked around, and appreciated that there was a little light from neighbouring warehouses illuminating the outside. You whipped your head around and began looking for the ladder down like you had hid behind when you blew the fuze box. Sure enough, across the roof, you saw the first few steps and you nodded towards it for Lalo to see. The two of you took off and kept low. You could see cars exiting and entering the gate and you swore under your breath. So much for a clear path.

"How bad a shape are you in, Señor?" You muttered to him.

Lalo smiled out a hoarse laugh and scanned with you. "Should see the other guy.” He replied, and you looked over at him. He shot you a wink and you felt your eye twitch.

You sighed, and nodded and pointed to where you had managed to get over the fence, "Theres a low part in the fence there...we might get seen, but...I think we'll at least be able to get away." It looked so far away now, especially since you were on another part of the roof.

Lalo nodded and started towards the ladder before you could even check that the coast was clear.

You tried to halt him, "Wait-"

But he already took your hand and dragged you down with him over the rungs of the latter, almost completely foregoing them. You scrambled down after him, and landed beside him just in time for a flashlight to shine over the roof.

As you stood there together, you saw Lalo sway for a moment, then recover with steely eyes as if nothing had happened. You knew he wasn’t doing well, but you had a feeling he would die before he showed any sign of weakness…hell you were certain he would die with a smile on his face if he could.

The two of you stayed low for a moment as you scanned the lot, and it seemed as if you both came to the same conclusion: there was no way you could wait for a perfect moment.

“I’m ready when you are Señor.” You whispered almost reassuringly up to him, then glanced down at his neck that still had a stream of blood coming from it, albeit small. You still didn’t know how he was running around with two bullet wounds.

Lalo remained still for a second as another guard ran past the two of you, then reached into the back of his belt, under his jacket. He produced a gun- the same one you had seen him use that night when he…

“You know how to shoot one of these?” He asked as he pressed it into your palm. You stared down at it. It was heavier than you though it would be.

“I- I know the general idea.” You said, holding it in your hand.

Lalo pressed his hand back to his bleeding side and groaned slightly. “Two hands. One to aim one to steady, okay? Point and shoot. Easy.” He nodded when you had it right. “Vamos.” He rumbled, and began your break from the safety of the shadows.

Having the gun in your hand made you feel both vulnerable and dangerous simultaneously. You scanned as you ran, and just when you began to hope you didn’t have to fire the weapon, you saw a man round the corner of the building just behind you, and you stopped running without a second thought. You aimed, and you shot.

The gun’s recoil made you jump and you watched as the man fell and a spurt of blood came from his back as the bullet winged him.

You heard Lalo bark out a single laugh, “Mi niñita loca…a natural!”

Your ears were ringing. Your feet moved you toward him as you tore your eyes from the groaning man on the ground, and kept your steady pace towards the fence. It came quicker than you thought, though you gathered that the fact that you were still reeling from having just shot a man had something to do with it.

“You first Señor.” You rushed out as you both came to a stop; managing to turn the safety on the gun before stuffing the gun into your pouch.

Lalo didn’t argue, though he did fix you with an intense stare before he pulled himself up the bars with more ease than you thought possible, especially considering his injury. You wondered what it would take to slow him down…

He landed with a thud and a cloud of dust on the other side.

“Vamos, niñita.” He said, beckoning you over with both hands.

You nodded and sucked in a breath and jumped up to grab the top of the fence, and let the adrenaline do the rest of the work. You pulled yourself up and as you situated yourself to jump down, you felt something whizz past your head. Things went quiet and your ears rang. You whipped your head and looked behind you; sure enough, there where two men approaching you with their guns raised. You blinked, then you jumped. Lalos hands were on your waist to guide you down, but all you could see was his paling complexion.

Another few shots were fired, hitting the fence.

You brain kicked back into gear just enough to grab his hand and run to your car with Lalo. You wrench open the door the door for him then ran to the drivers side as another bullet was fired.

You pulled your keys out and forced your hands to cooperate for a moment as you started it up and hit the gas without hesitation. A few more shots were fired behind you, but you peeled out of there before they could do any damage.

It wasn’t until you had been driving for five minutes, taking twists and turns that would get you several speeding and hazardous driving tickets if you were caught, that you finally looked over at the man beside you. He was pressing against his neck and side, and you flickered your gaze over him.

“Y-you’re bleeding-“ you said. It was a dumb thing to say, but it was all you could get out. “I…I need to- we need to get you somewhere…I can’t- no no hospital…do you know anyone? I- I can probably stitch your neck but…”your voice cracked.

“You have to calm down, Jesus Christ… I’m the one dying here.” He rasped.

Your panicking self turned to him sharply and you made a split second decision. “You’re not going to die.”

You turned the car around far too harshly and sped off into the city. You needed more civilization. More people. Being alone would kill the both of you.

You drove to the motel you had booked ahead of time to lay low in after that night, and as you pulled to a stop outside, your hands began to shake uncontrollably. The breaths you took came shakily too.

You didn’t even see the rare look of pride on Lalo’s face- you had done good. He was impressed.

But all you could do was succumb to your adrenaline and panic as they mixed. “You lost so much blood…g-god I should have found you faster, I’m sorry…I gotta get you inside- I have a kit in the trunk, I-I can patch you up-“

You were cut off when Lalo reached over to you with his good arm, and gripped the back of your head and yanked you over the middle console and kissed you. Everything stopped. Your breathing, your words, your heart, your brain, time…everything. You could taste him as his warm tongue flicked against yours when you gasped. It was fast and hard, but you were left stunned as he pulled away. Lalo stared at you, and just as he had hoped, you reset.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“O-okay…” you whispered, eyes refocusing. “Let’s get you inside.” You were on auto pilot as you opened your door and grabbed the first aid kit from the back and the bag you had packed when you left your apartment almost a week ago. As you were about to cross over to the motel, you stopped Lalo quickly and began buttoning up his jacket for a little extra coverage of his bloodstains. Lalo regarded you calmly and carefully, a tiny grin pulling at his mouth.

“I loved this jacket…” he rumbled, regarding the stain forming, “Really comfortable, y’know?”

Once you were satisfied, you led him to the room you had booked, and took out the key they had given you two days ago.

You turned the key and swung the door open before helping the man in and sitting him down and kicking the door shut. You dumped your things down and crouched as you began unbuttoning his jacket. The red stain confronted you again when you pushed the fabric off his broad shoulders. You stared at it, then you heard him tut you.

“Se agradecería un poco de entusiasmo.” He was aloof, but his words were beginning to slur. He wasn’t doing well.

You jumped and snapped back to yourself as you began to frantically undo his dress-shirt.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” You muttered, though you weren’t sure if it was for him or for yourself.

His nice shirt came apart, all sticky from the blood, and you were faced with his soaked skin, and angry wound. Your head went light.

You remembered patching your ex up one night after a bar fight…but nothing that bad. It had been a cut from a pocket knife, not two bullet wounds.

There was no time for you to fall apart though. You were going to make this right even if it was the last thing you did.

You ran to the bathroom and filled the motel ice bucket with warm water and a glass with cold. When you came back, Lalo was forcing himself to stay awake- eyelids heavy. You grabbed every towel you could, and knelt at his feet again.

“Ey, there she is…” he rumbled.

You felt your lips pull into a nervous grin as if trying to see his humour.

“You’re gonna be okay…I’m- I’m gonna fix this-…” Your voice was unsteady though you tried your best to stay calm for him.

You dipped one of the towels into warm water and began dabbing away the blood by his side as best as you could; your stomach flipped at the sight of his torn flesh, but you weren’t about to pass out or back down.

“L-lay back, here.” You grabbed a few pillows and guided him to lay down, and as you went back to wiping his neck and side clean, you watched him try to say lucid. He did a profound job of keeping his breathing steady and you had a brief wonder of how many times he had been shot or worse. You brought a towel to his side and pressed down. Then you felt a surge of panic when you realized you hadn’t given him anything for the pain. “Shit! I’m- I’m sorry you- I didn’t give you anything.” You wrenched the kit open and shakily looked for anything that might help him. You found a small bottle of Tylenol, and though you weren’t certain how effective it would be, you grabbed two and the clean glass of water.

“Open.” You forced out, and placed the pills on his tongue and held the glass to his lips. Your hands shook and you spilled a little, but you focused on remaining calm.

You set the water down once he swallowed and took another towel, then went to his neck where you wiped more blood away. It was just a gash, but needed stitches. You felt your heart beat in your throat, and you wanted so badly to break down, but you couldn’t. You rifled through the kit and found the sutures, a new needle pack and the holder and forceps, and set them on the bed. You wiped the area again, and took a shuttered breath.

“Hey…”

You felt tears well in your eyes.

“Niñita.” Came his voice again.

You blinked and grabbed the needle pack and ripped it open with your teeth. The needle fell into your hand, and you took another breath.

“Y/n.”

You jumped and looked up. Lalo was staring right at you, eyelids heavy.

“You need to stay calm.” He rumbled, “Can’t let me get fucked up, sì?”

You sobbed out a laugh.

“You’re horrible.” You whispered, and sniffled.

“Everybody loves me.” He smiled dazed.

You took a few more breaths and thought of something that made you sober quickly. You thought of what Hector would have done to you if he found out you let his favourite nephew die.

With that in mind, you knelt beside him on the bed; you wiped and dried the wound on his neck again quickly, and pushed his flesh back together to start stitching

“Easy there tiger.” He groaned.

You sighed and brought the threaded needle to his skin, and you pushed in. The feeling of the needle going through his skin made your stomach churn.

His eye twitched, but he didn’t move as you slowly stitched him up. You hoped to god that you weren’t making this worse than it was already was, and thanked god that you had seen several medical shows on late night television years ago…

You finished the wound, and you sighed in relief as you tied a knot for the remaining thread. It wasn’t perfect, but the wound was holding together and he was barely bleeding anymore.

You cleaned the surrounding area one more time, and looked at your patient. He was staring at nothing, but he was awake. You wanted to stop and check on him, but you knew time was not something you had plenty of. With that in mind, you shuffled gingerly down the mattress to the other bullet hole, and cleaned away the entrance wound. There was no way you were going to try and remove a bullet. Certainly you had seen it done in movies but you were not about to do it to a man on deaths door, not when it meant it could cause him to bleed out. You replaced the towel that had become sodden with blood, and pressed down on the crisp white fabric. A warm blot of blood began to seep through and you felt your heart sink down into your ankles.

You were horrified that you had to sniffle a little, tears threatening to well up. You watched his face carefully; he was unbelievably strong willed. He practically refused to lose consciousness. His skin was pale and his eyes were heavy yet still he was awake and watching you from his propped up perch.

“I know a guy…” he rumbled. Suddenly.

You jumped and looked at him, surprised that he spoke. “Tell me how to reach him.” You said, already reaching for his jacket to find his phone.

“Second to last number…he’ll know who it is…” He might have been lacking blood, but Lalo still managed to sound just as confident and aloof as always.

You scrolled down and found the number, and pressed it without another thought. It rang twice before a man answered it.

“Where?” Came the voice.

You wanted to double check that he knew who you were calling for…but you had a feeling this man wasn’t just some guy who forgot who Lalo Salamanca was.

You gave him the address, simple and concise. He didn’t say thank you, or double check, and somehow you found that comforting. You snapped the phone shut, and placed it back in his pocket.

“He’s coming…it…its going to be okay…” you whispered. You wondered how many times that phone had been used to take a life with a simple order.

You looked down at the towel on his side, and lifted it gently to check the bleeding. It was still coming. You grabbed one of the spare pillows and wordlessly began unbuckling Lalo’s belt.

“I know you wanna help there princesita, but I don’t think right now is the best time for a bl-“

You ripped the belt from the loops and pressed the pillow to his side, making him groan and shut his mouth fast. It wasn’t perfect, but you managed to get the belt under his back and around his waist and over the pillow to fasten it to his side, tight. The pressure would help the bleeding better than your hands, and you leaned back once you got it tight enough.

You heart rate had slowed, and now seeing him a little more repaired, you looked at him properly. His eyes were closed, and it didn’t hit you for a moment that him being lax could be a horrible thing. Then your blood went cold.

You shot up out of your seat beside him and leaned over his chest.

"L...Lalo?" You whispered.

Nothing.

You feel lightheaded. You pressed your ear to his chest, and his heartbeat was faint. The tips of your fingers felt cold.

"Lalo!" Your voice broke, but again, there was no response.

Your eyes began to well with tears, and you broke.

"You motherfucker I'm neck deep in this shit, and I cant get myself out without you!" You cried out and slapped his thick chest.

You stared at his face for a moment, dread filling you.

Then, the corner of his mouth tugged.

“Awh, you mean it?” Came his low voice, his eyes still closed.

You felt your hands tingle as the urge to slap him filled you. It was like he could feel it. Lalo smirked slightly.

“C’mon I know you want to…what just because I’m half dead you’re going soft?” He goaded you.

You clenched your jaw and sighed. His mouth tugged again, though his eyes remained closed. Eventually his face went lax, and his breathing became even and slow. You called his name once more, but when he didn’t answer you gathered he was sleeping. You hoped against hope that the guy you had called would be there soon, but you supposed only time would tell.

In his dazed slumber, Lalo murmured a name or two…and you found yourself getting dizzy with sleep the longer you watched him.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, your head was down on the bed in your arms- just where you had been as you watched over him.

You looked up, and and stilled when you saw those large, glittering black eyes staring back at you, fully awake and very alive.

“Ahh she awakens.” He rasped.

You sat up and rubbed your head, taking him in.

He was sat, clean and reclined on the bed. There was a neat bandage over his side, and a smaller one over his neck, along with a couple brown bags where he kept reaching and eating from on the side table

“What…” you tried to say. You had expected to be awoken by the man knocking to get in the room, so how in the hell had he gotten in-

“Hm? Other guy took too long…called in a favour. Didn’t feel like dying yet.” He said as he pulled out a water from one of the bags for you. He dangled it in front of your face.

“I-oh…thank you.” You slowly took the water, and drank from it. You couldn’t remember when you last had water.

“Chicken man thinks he got me…we’ll stay here for a while…” Lalo rumbled.

You nodded, “I- I have the room booked for another two nights…um- I can see if I can get another one for you…if you want some priva-“

“Nah.” He dismissed you. But he said it with that easy grin of his as he looked at the shitty motel room service brochure. There was a warm silence to the room as you sat there with him. You sipped at your water, and slowly stood up, wincing at your back.

Lalo was flipping through one of the brochures of Albuquerque and chuckling every so often. Evidently he thought the touristic sights were amusing. It all seemed so surreal again, just like that night in your apartment as he patched you up.

Then, as you stood there in a daze, you. Suddenly realised how disgusting you felt. Blood and sweat and dirt was caked to you. You quietly went to the washroom and splashed some cold water on your face. You looked a mess. With Lalo more stable, you walked outside and grabbed the bag you had, and went back to the washroom to shower. You bagged up the clothes you had worn, and climbed inside the stall. The warm water washed over you, and you felt tears run down your face as the stress broke out of you. You sobbed quietly into your hand, and let the blood and dirt drain away.

It wasn’t long, but it was enough to help you settle back into your body.

Once you were finished, you dried your hair and put on some clean clothes; you forgot how wonderful it felt to be scrubbed clean. Your head felt a little light, but clear.

When you came out, Lalo was staring out the front window, and slipping a new, clean shirt onto one arm. You watched his back flex and the thick muscles ripple, and you were suddenly hit with the memory of of his lips pressing against yours in the car-

“You’re a little crazy, you know that?” He rumbled as he turned around, and begun buttoning his floral shirt.

You blinked and dragged your stare away from his chest.

“I’m- I’m sorry?” You asked, not fully understanding him. Was he referring to you running through firing bullets for him?

“You said you wished you had a family like the Salamancas. Anyone who says that must be crazy.” He smiled and said it with a laugh, but neither reached his eyes.

You didn’t smile, and didn’t move. Not even when he reached and grabbed his gun off the night stand as he stalked towards you.

“Said you’d take a bullet if you needed to…hm?” He taunted you, standing between you and the door.

You felt a drop of water you had missed run down the back of your neck.

“I haven’t achieved a lot in my life, Señor…but I like to think that I saved your life last night…and while I don’t think you’re a good person, I do know you have a lot of people who would miss you.” You looked from the barrel of the gun to his eyes, “You can shoot me, Señor Lalo…I did something good last night…and I can die with that on my consciousness. If I die with your family knowing I did something in their favour, I’ll be satisfied.” You swallowed and looked back at him. A sense of calm came over you, “Just…please make sure Hector is never seated beside Thomas Lee…they hate each other.” You added with a tiny smile at the memory of having to separate their wheelchairs more than once.

Lalo’s heavy gaze was locked on you, and your eyes flickered over him; his chest was rising and falling quickly. Very unlike the Lalo you knew. He was always so calm…eerily so.

“Come closer I don’t want to miss.” He rumbled.

You took the few steps that were between you, and stood at the edge of his outstretched arm, just an inch from the gun.

You raised your gaze to meet his, firm and ready to meet your end. But you saw something in Lalo that you had only seen once before- that night he had emptied a magazine into your ex- it was a hunger. A glimpse of an animal inside him.

You both stood there for a moment, barely blinking as you stared at one another. The air was thick and warm as the scorching sun heated everything under it outside. You watched his mouth twitch, and his glittering eyes flickered over your face as you remained still. He was thinking…fast.

You had proved yourself to him whether you meant to or not. Proved that you were willing and loyal. That you were quick and nurturing.

You were nuts.

And he liked that.

Then, Lalo brought his arm down and threw the gun onto the table behind him. The movement made you flinch slightly, but you still didn’t move. You weren’t about to be weak in front of him. You watched the older man take the two strides that separated you, and you felt his warm hands slip along your jaw to tilt your head back before you felt his lips on yours. They were warm, and he tasted of something sweet and smoky; his moustache tickled your lip, and you mewled softly into his mouth as you leaned up to move your lips with his urgent kiss. It was vicious, and messy. Lalo swept his tongue over your lips and you opened them without hesitation. A low hum rumbled in his chest, as he tasted you. You laid your hands on his chest, and he tore from your mouth for a moment to speak against your lips, still pecking and licking into your mouth.

“You want to be one of us? A little mouse of a Salamanca?” He rumbled, kissing you again.

You whimpered and nodded as best at you could, “Yes!”

He smirked against your lips and bit at your bottom one as he pulled you closer, “You’ll do what it takes?” Lalo began backing you up, and your legs hit the bed, making you fall back.

“Anything-“ you mumbled breathlessly as he descended upon you, his strong frame caged you in as he leaned down to kiss your jaw down to your neck where he bit and sucked ruthlessly.

“Again.” He rasped against your skin.

“Anything!” You whined, weaving your fingers into his greying hair.

“You’re mine you understand that?” Lalo pulled away and stared right at you; the sight of him so close, and his scent invading every one of your senses had your head go fuzzy. You were his.

“Y-yes papi.” You said without thinking as need took over you.

Lalo’s brow fell, and his face suddenly went serious- you felt worry prickle at you. But then he sat up and on his knees, and began unbuttoning his crisp shirt. “Say that again, Cariño.”

You stared at his fingers as his shirt came apart and you saw his bandage.

“Yes papi.” You repeated yourself.

He groaned satisfactorily deep in his chest, and slipped his shirt off his shoulders and leaned down to to grip the top of your skirt and dragged it down your legs, grinning at your panties. You bashfully went to close your knees but he smiled and tutted you, “No no no, mi princesita, open up for papi…a little more.” He ran a finger down your thigh and flicked it to make a point as you parted them.

He leaned back and reached down to run a finger down your covered slit and barked out an amused little playful laugh when he felt how soaked the material was, watching as the fabric clung to your lips.

“Dulce coñito…”he rumbled.

You may not have been fluent in Spanish, but you knew exactly what he said.

“All for me?” Lalo replaced his finger with his thumb and began rubbing up and down steadily, then stopping to circle around your clit.

You nodded, then he pressed down on your clit gently, and a whimper escaped you.

“Ooh I think she likes that.” He smiled wolfishly down at you. There was nothing you could do to hide your warming cheeks- you were practically glowing as he touched you. This man had just been bleeding on you on the verge of death, and here he was teasing you to near tears.

The man took in every twitch of your thighs, and gasp, storing every bit of information into that calculating brain of his. And you let him. You didn’t hide when you didn’t like something and certainly not when he was driving you crazy. He huffed in annoyance when he couldn’t feel all of your skin against him, and he nearly tore your shirt off of you, and bit and mouthed at the sports bra you had on.

Lalo leaned over you, and devoured your mouth as he finally slipped a long, thick finger inside you. You moaned into the kiss and he chuckled in return.

“Tan sensible, princesita…” he rumbled, and very slowly began to pump in and out of you; the movements matching the pace of his tongue licking into your mouth.

His other hand came up to the nape of your neck where he clenched his fist into your hair and stroked your neck with his thumb. You could feel yourself start to twitch and your muscles grew tighter as he patiently built your orgasm like he was entitled to it. Gently stroking your g-spot and teasing your sensitive clit as it swelled under the pad of his thumb. But then every time you felt yourself start to reach your climax, he would slow, and back off. You whined pitifully into his mouth and he hummed and chuckled.

“Tan impaciente, do I need to teach you manners?” He purred against your mouth.

You shook your head frantically and bit the inside of your lip.

He hummed again, and you felt the vibrations against you. “No…you’re a good girl, eh? Una niña tan buena para mí…” he kissed your temple, and the gesture made your head spin as you keened into his hand.

“Please…” you whispered, and melted when he kissed your nose, continuing his slow pace.

“Look at you…so domesticated like a little dog. Como una pequeña mascota…” he purred.

You blushed, and flicked your eyes away in shame…was he taunting you? Did he think so little of you?

“Ah ah…I like when you look at me, niñita…” he tutted you, and put pressure on your jaw with his thumb as he still cradled your head. You felt his finger pull from you and you suppressed a mewl.

“You’d kill for me. You’d kill for your papi hm?” He goaded you.

You never thought you would say yes to something like that…but you knew that when you fired his gun at that man, you were ready for the bullet to be fatal.

“Yes…” you murmured.

He smiled wolfishly down at you, “Estás loca, niñita.”

Lalo leaned up and away from you, and hissed for a moment. You sat up with him and followed his gaze down to the bandage on his side.

“Are you alright?” You asked quietly, reaching out to touch the area lightly. Lalo snatched your hand and brought it up to his mouth were he sucked one of your fingers into his mouth; your lips parted at the sensation, and with your body so on edge, it only added to the fire inside you.

Then he looked back down and scoffed. “Shit shot.”

You smiled a small smile, then leaned up onto your knees in front of him and watched him closely as you pressed a kiss to his chest. You could feel his heart beating under his skin, and you felt a strange privilege to feel it. You kissed him again, then followed a small trail down to where the bandage was. You looked up at him again; he was watching you intently, his breathing heavy as his thick chest heaved. You held his gaze, and dared to press a kiss right over his wound.

“Mierda…” he rumbled, then you were being wrenched from him and your back hit the bed again. Lalo was almost panting and he opened his belt and pulled it from its loops before throwing it onto the bed beside you. You could only watch as he worked his pants open, not taking his eyes off of you for a second.

You felt pinned to the spot under him, and you grew weak under his heavy, scorching gaze.

“Yours.” You whispered, and spread your legs wider for him. You didn’t know what drew you to say it…but there was a part of you that was so resigned to this man that you couldn’t even think coherently anymore.

Lalo didn’t even stutter his movements as he shucked his pants off. You stared up at him, partially appreciating that you weren’t the only one nude…but somehow you felt even more intimidated with him having nothing on. He was a strong, powerful man. There was no hiding it. A thick, strong chest and tummy, broad shoulders, thick thighs that you had seen pull at his trousers just like his arms strained his shirts.

You felt tiny.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it as he descended on you. Lalo took each of your wrists in his hands, and pinned you there. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock lay on your stomach between you as he nestled between your thighs.

The tip leaked onto your tummy, and you squirmed against his hold on your wrists as you tried to touch him or hold onto him for dear life, but he kept you there- so vulnerable. Lalo transferred one of your wrists to his other hand and he use his free one to grope down your body, and return to your slick cunt; he slipped a finger inside you again, checking to see that you were still soaked, and he chuckled. You knew you were an even bigger mess than when he had initially teased you.

“Creo que estás goteando.” He chuckled and pulled away from you to glance down as he pulled his fingers from you- a thick line of slick between his fingers and he pulled them apart.

You flushed. Lalo hummed in satisfaction. He had you in the palm of his hand. Literally.

He took his wet hand and worked it over the tip of his cock, and you almost whined at the slick sound. You had gotten an eye-full of his cock when he had stood at the foot of the bed, and you knew he was massive. You could feel him pull his hips away from you as he moved the fat tip down to run it through your folds. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, Lalo released your wrists and leaned back on his heels to watch himself rub the head over your clit then down the length of your slit, and back up. He rubbed it right over your sensitive bud and you bit your lip to keep from whining.

“C’mon ninita don’t be shy- I know the moustache is a bit much but I promise I’m a really nice guy.” He teased you, then surprised you by dipping the tip inside you. Just a little.

But it was enough to make you lose composure and moan pathetically.

“Ahh there she goes- see? Knew you’d warm up to me.” Lalo’s rough voice filled your ears and you moaned again when he slipped in a little further, one hand still gripping the base of his shaft and the other now on your hip in a bruising grip.

You stared up at him helplessly, hands weaved into the sheet below you.

“Precioso…” he purred almost to himself.

The endearment had you flush even more, and he started to catch onto the correlation. His face no longer held any amusement, but instead a ravenous focus sat handsomely in the deep lines of his skin.

He pulled the tip out again, then pushed in further until it popped inside you completely- a small bulge there at your entrance. Your breathing came heavily and you leaned up a little to watch.

Lalo pulled out of you again, then slipped inside you a little more…so slow and so patient. You felt as if you might melt into the bed or combust as he fucked himself into you, gently stretching you open to fit his girth. Your body welcomed him, albeit nervously as your muscles clenched every so often. But he would ease you with gentle coos and lean down to you to kiss your nose. “That’s it…there you go, princesita, you can take papi…all the way.”

You thought you might die when he was in far enough to stroke against your gspot. You could feel yourself tighten impossibly more around him, and he huffed out an amused laugh as your body threatened to force him out. Lalo pulled from your heat again, watching as your sensitive flesh clung to him, and the round bump that formed in your tummy where his cock was nestled inside you; then his gaze was on yours and he snapped his fingers to ensure your attention. You refocused your eyes and stared up at him.

“Eyes on me.” He murmured.

You nodded, and stared at his glittering black eyes as they bore into yours. Then, he began slipping himself back inside you…so slowly. You could already feel the extreme sensations starting to ripple through you, and as you watched the older man, it was like he knew even before you that you were on the precipice of your orgasm. You almost started to plead with him as he patiently eased the thick shaft into you, the weight of it dragging against every sensitive spot inside you until his hips met yours, and his thick tummy ground against your clit…and you saw stars.

“Cum on papi,cariño…” he purred, “Cum all over me.” He kissed your top lip.

And you let go.

An unrestrained whine tore from your throat as your legs shook and your cunt clenched down on him like a vice. Lalo could feel the sudden rush of your cum over his cock and he continued to grind into you as you rode it out. You didn’t know when, but you felt his warm hands over yours; his fingers locked with yours. Your fingers dug into his knuckles, and your back arched up off the mattress as he patiently fucked you through your orgasm, shallowly pulling out then grinding back inside you.

You could barely hear or see. Everything was cloudy and ringing around you as the extreme pleasure ebbed away and your body went lax.

“There she is.” Lalo grinned, and kissed you. His tongue parted your lips and you wrenched your hands from his and wrapped them around his neck, but you flinched when you touched his bandage there.

Lalo hummed and put your arms back around his neck, “Rip them open ninita, c’mon.” He grinned down at you, and started thrusting into you. There was an obscene sound that came from between you thanks to your powerful orgasm and your cheeks warmed.

“Woah!” He smiled and pushed into you, humming at the feeling of your slick warmth hugging around him. Lalo sighed and leaned over you fullly now, bracing himself on his strong forearms. He sighed, and the air fanned over your face.

“Dios te sientes bien.” The older man purred, and kissed down your neck to your shoulder where he nipped at the skin as he increased his pace. Your body began to bounce under him.

Lalo slipped his hand back under the nape of your neck and held you still as he sucked at your skin and bit down possessively. You whimpered and squirmed but his iron grip held you there. As he slowly released you, he licked at your skin and kissed along your collar. His chest heaved against yours and he returned to your mouth and engulfed your lips again; you parted them without thinking now, and let his warm tongue stroke yours.

Then, he pulled away slowly and stared down at you scorchingly. “Open that pretty mouth.” He gasped.

You parted your lips, and Lalo spat onto your waiting tongue, then leaned back down and kissed you again, hard. You moaned down his throat and he groaned in return. A startling need for eachother had seeded itself in both of you.

He had you so distracted with his mouth that you barely noticed as he started rutting into you until his kiss slowed. Lalo hunkered over you, almost folding you in half and he stared hammering into you fast. There was nothing but the sound of his flesh plaping against yours in the warm motel room, and while you were sensitive, you didn’t want it to stop. In fact, you could feel your sensitive cunt start to tighten around him again, and you were helpless to stop it or even tell him, though he seemed very well aware as he grinned down at you.

“That’s it- that’s it.” He purred, and you let him use you as he needed. His soft tummy impacted your clit with each thrust and you could only babble with need. “I’m- I’m- la- f-f-fu- I’m-“ you couldn’t even get a word out at your second orgasm hit you like a train, and Lalo chuckled low in his chest as he felt you cum for him.

You gripped around him tight, and Lalo groaned low at the sensation. He thrusted a few more times, each one more sloppy and harder than the last until he pushed into you all the way, squishing his tip up against your cervix and let his weight down onto you as he came deep inside you. You rolled your hips with him as he slowed his pace and ground against you. Lalo hummed and panted into your neck, and you held him tight against your body as his thick cum filled you up. You could feel your tummy warm up as he emptied into you, rope after hot rope he coated your insides until some of the sticky liquid leaked out the sides where his cock plugged you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you were terrified that he might have ripped his stitches, but in that moment you didn’t dare say a word. You knew he’d wave you off.

The older man slowly stilled, and stayed inside you comfortably. His heat was comforting, and you clung to his back and stroked his hair gently. Lalo very slowly leaned up off of you, kissing along your collar to your cheeks, and rolled to the side so he wouldn’t crush you. Then, he shuffled something over to you, and lifted your butt up. It was a pillow.

When you looked at him as he raised your hips up, he only sent you a wink.

You couldn’t form a sentence, so you just laid there for a moment before you felt his arm come around your head and pull you into his side. You curled in there, and rested your head on his chest. Your heart beat wracked your entire body- everything pulsed. You couldn’t move. And Lalo noticed how immobile you were.

“What? A mans never made you cum before?” He chuckled. But when you were silent, he looked at you properly. “No…really? That little prick never made a little thing like you cum?” He pushed and you wished the earth would swallow you up.

“No…” you managed to force out.

“God…we have a lot of catching up to do then!”

You stared at him in horror as your body was still recovering from what he had just done to you. And he laughed. “I’m joking- now come here and kiss me. I almost died yesterday y’know.”

You huffed, and leaned up to press a gentler kiss to his mouth. Then leaned back down. You couldn’t even hold your head up.

He kissed your hair, and ran his hand up and down your arm. “Mi pequeña loca.” Lalo purred.

“Mi viejo loco.” You mumbled, and Lalo sat up and away from you enough to look down at you.

You looked at him sheepishly.

“Mocosa.” He smiled, and you returned it.

Lalo enjoyed seeing you like that. Relaxed. Flushed. Sweaty. Fucked out, blissed out, swollen lipped, hair a mess. All for him.

He sighed after a moment, and smacked your hip. “I’m gonna eat you if we don’t get some fucking food.”

You nodded. “What do you have in mind? Fried chicken?” You quipped.

Lalo did a double take, and stared at you dead serious, then burst into laughter. “I knew you were funny.”

You smiled a little and toyed with a little hair on his arm. “How much longer are you going to be here…in Albuquerque?” You mumbled.

“Eh…we’ll stay here a little longer. Keep an eye on my tio…then after that? Think you deserve some real food.” He smiled.

Your brows furrowed and you pulled away to look at him.

“You said you’ve never been to Mexico right?” He said, tracking your eyes.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Entonces está decidido...after that…I think we could use a Uh…mouth cleanser?” He squinted.

Your heart throbbed still his use of “we”.

“Pallet cleanser?” You offered and he snapped his finger and pointed at you. You smiled.

“Yes! That. Tired of this shit city…you know, I hear Germany is nice.” And he grinned.

He knew he had you.

He embodied the chaos you had grown used to, but portrayed it so calmly. He made you feel safe, and made that little girl you thought you had lost inside you sing. Whatever it was that the two of you shared, you were drawn to it like moths to a flame.

And you knew it.

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

[sketches4mysw33theart]

Whisky Kisses and Chocolate Dreams 

Synopsis: You are trying to enjoy a quiet night to yourself when a certain Mr Willy Wonka stumbles home from a night out ‘testing chocolate ingredients.’  

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: Google Translated phrases (please let me know if these are wrong!)  

(I’m lowkey annoyed that Wonka didn’t speak other languages in the movie, because of course Gene Wilder did and it would make sense for young Wonka to as well considering he’s just come back from his travels, so you better believe I’m sticking it in here)  

Beyond the happily ever after, the takedown of the fearsome cartel, the rearrangement of the corrupt police force, the arrest of the despicable wash house owners, Noodle’s family reunion, and the return home of the scrubbers, there was you and Willy. Through everything.  

You accidentally stumbled across him on the first day he attempted to sell his chocolate in the Galleries Gourmet and, as his chocolate plan grew, continued to bump into him in the most unexpected of places. From the moment your eyes met, and a sweet smile rose on his face, the smile he glowed with as he watched the chocolate cartel fly away, sent Noodle home to her mother, toured the ruins of the castle that would become his cosmic axis, you and Willy were thick as thieves.  

Since then, Willy had been busy building his mini-empire, including his refurbished shop in the Galleries Gourmet (which had quickly become one of the most popular retailers in the city) and the opening of his brand-new factory, but never busy enough to neglect you. Because he took you with him, into his factory, into his living quarters, initially as Chief Operations Officer, regular taste tester, roommate and partner in crime, and eventually into the most freeing relationship you had ever had the pleasure of stumbling into.   

Willy’s friends visited, of course, and very often, especially Noodle. However, it was Miss Benz who Willy was out with one night when you were allowing yourself time to relax with a cup of hot chocolate and the latest funny papers.   

It was late, but not too late, and you were sat in the armchair in your bedroom. It had been your idea to keep separate bedrooms even after your relationship with the chocolatier had blossomed, tentatively suggested over an early breakfast, but Willy was eager to nod and agree. He worked a very strange schedule, sometimes sleeping in late and others bursting awake at the first sign of dawn, and often not slipping back between the sheets until the world was shadowed in darkness. Despite this, when your schedules matched up, neither would oppose the other sneaking into their room at night. 

In your room that night, the fire was roaring in the hearth, battling the oncoming autumn chill, and you were enjoying the stillness of the end of a busy day. Willy had gone out early afternoon, and you glanced towards the clock languidly, not particularly worried. Willy may have been prone to getting himself into tight spots, but you had no doubt that Miss Benz would stand for none of it.  

Still, you did wonder where they may be. It wasn’t unusual for Willy to disappear for hours and then show back up as though it had only been a few minutes, babbling about a new idea or the source of a new inspiration. But these were usually solitary adventures – he enjoyed devoting all his time to his friends when they were in town.   

Before your twinge of worry could teeter and threaten to overspill into a pool of anxiety, you heard the distinct sound of the front door clicking shut below. He was always extra quiet when coming home after dark. He never wanted to wake you.  

Not that this seemed particularly important to him on this night. Because, not ten seconds after the front door shut, there was a mighty bang like metal hitting wood, some unintelligible mumbled words, heavy footsteps, and finally a soft knock on your door.   

Before you could respond, your door flew open, and in flashes of purple and brown, a familiar body stumbled into your room, exclaiming your name. You were faced with Mr Willy Wonka, swaying slightly on his feet with his arms wide open. “Hello, my love!”   

He looked dishevelled, his coat crinkled, hair a mess beneath his slightly dented top hat and shirt tails hanging out over his trousers. Heaven only knew what had happened to his waistcoat.   

You watched him with your eyebrows raised as he took off his hat, patted down his curls, and turned on his heels around your room.   

“Hm, where did the coat rack go?” He mumbled to himself. You did not have a coat rack. He looked at you, biting down on your lip to stop from laughing at the state of him, and a dawn of realisation rose on his face. “Oh well, I suppose this will do.”  

He stumbled over to you and placed the hat, at an angle, on your head, adjusted it slightly, and then patted the top with a smile. Once he was satisfied, he turned and fell unceremoniously face down on your bed. That laughing smile grew unrestrained on your face as you plucked the hat from your head and put it carefully on the table beside you. “Willy?” You questioned, and he looked over at you with glazed-over eyes and a dopey grin.   

“Mmm?”  

“What are you doing?”  

“Having a lie-down.”  

“This is my room,” you said, humorously.   

“Then why are you sitting there like a goose?” He rolled over onto his back so he could look at you properly as he patted the empty side of the bed.  

You were quick to cast the paper you were engrossed in only a second ago to the side and slink into his open arms. But, getting up close to him allowed you a sudden realisation before you could settle down.  

“Willy, have... have you been drinking?!” You asked, unable to hold back your laugh as you noticed the scent of alcohol tingling your nostrils, the dreamy mist of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers.   

“No,” he responded quickly, defensively. “Miss Benz and I have been testing chocolate ingredients.”  

“Oh, and what were these ingredients?”  

He opened his mouth, then hesitated before replying, looking beyond you in thought. “Well, we started with rum for these incredible bottle-shaped Rum Babas I want to experiment with, there was quite a bit of that to taste, then we tried some liqueurs, lots of flavours, the cherry tasted just divine, a glass or two of champagne for truffles, and then we sampled some whisky for fudge. And then, I... well, then I was here. Come closer, I missed you.”  

He held you tightly, pulling you into his sweat-sheened skin until your nose brushed against the tautness of his neck. With this closeness, Willy took the opportunity to press a dozen soft, quick kisses to random planes of skin on your face, across your nose and cheeks and forehead and hurriedly closed eyelids. You could smell the overwhelming scent of whisky lingering on his breath as his lips stumbled across your face, but he pressed them to your own before you could comment.  

His kiss tasted interesting, a cocktail of numerous alcohols and, of course, chocolate, but his lips were as soft and gentle as they always were. You hoped that would never change.   

“Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he started mumbling as he pulled away, staring at you with wild eyes. “Mon amour, amore mio, meu amor, qīn’ài de, meine geleite – hm, wait, that’s not right. Meine.... Ah, meine geliebte.” Although the numerous ways of breathing a new lease of life into the sweet name he had for you tickled you pink, giggles bubbled up in your throat and tumbled from your lips as unrestrained as the whisky flowing on your lover's breath. He looked at you with a bemused expression that was hurriedly offset by a beaming smile. “Why are you laughing?! I’m expressing my love!”  

You didn’t bother to even try and stop the laughs escaping your body, but you did fight through them to make your excuses. “I know, I know, but... nevermind.” You dragged the heel of your hand over one of your eyes before looking at him earnestly, genuinely. “I love you.”  

He glowed at your words, lit up and grinning like a child at the foot of a Christmas tree. “I love you too,” he returned the sentiment with quiet vigour, stroking two trembling fingers against the protruding bone of your cheek.  

However, the moment was somewhat spoiled by the obnoxious yawn he released, barely covered by the hand that wasn’t touching your skin.  

“Come on,” you said, nudging him slightly until you could peel up your coverlet, “let’s go to bed.” He was eager to fall under the covers and pulled you closer instantly, so the bedspread fluttered down around you of its own accord.  

Held tight in his arms, you felt the softness of Willy’s lips whisper at your hairline, an everlasting goodnight kiss. Before you could press a kiss to his neck in return, he was already beginning to snore.   

[mrsparrasblog]

i don't wanna rush you or anything cuz u should take ur time. Just wanted to let you know that we NEED more Rudy and Alejandro content😭. Rudy is criminally underrated 🥲 like an obsessed Rudy crushing on mc? My heart-

Hey sorry that it took a bit to answer.��� I love Rudy with all my heart💓 He is so underrated 💓and have many drafts of him, but I never had something where he was like obsessed , but I tried my best if you don't like it Im sorry :(, you didn't say if you wanted smut so I just wrote it without smut. I was half asleep writing this ngl😭

Anyways here 💓☀️🦋

Sweet as Cinnamon

Rodolfo was never one to fall for just a pretty face; he wasn’t shallow; he needed more. He always had that picture of the future Mrs. Parra in his mind. She needed to be soft, cute, romantic, and tolerant of everything. She needed to be a safe space from all the demons in Las Almas which haunted him.

When he turned 35, he almost gave up on his dream, too many failed attempts at dating. There were the ones who dated him to get closer to Alejandro, the ones who couldn’t handle him being a Sergeant Major, and then the ones who were too much involved with the cartel business.

And then one day he met you. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but it was almost as close. The way you carried yourself, your charisma, the way you laughed, and the way your eyes sparkled, you were perfect for him.

He didn’t want to do anything more than approach you and ask you out on a cute date, but this time he couldn’t fail, not with his lifelong dream. So he made the only rational choice and became your shadow, trying to find out everything about you while constantly nagging Alejandro about how perfect you were.

"You know you could always talk to her," Alejandro suggested, not seeing the bigger picture Rodolfo saw. It needed to be perfect; you needed to want him before he made attempts; it should be natural. So he found out everything about you: the way you liked your coffee, your favorite book (which he bought and read to have something to talk to you about), your favorite film, favorite food, and even your workplace. It wasn’t a surprise for him that a sweet thing like you owned a bakery; everything was freshly baked by you, and it tasted like absolute heaven to him.

When he watched you through the window, he imagined you staying in your kitchen, him wrapping his arms around you while you baked for him and your kids - it would be perfect. And you would never even come across the cartel; you were a delicate flower that needed to be protected and cherished, and who would do the job better than him?

The hard part was getting the men away from you who also wanted you. Of course, he knew you were a sight that would make every man weak in his knees, but you were already his, and the other men needed to understand that.

Some people underestimated him, thinking he was too short and not as muscular as Alejandro, but when the Sergeant Major stood at the poor men's door with a sinister grin and a firearm, telling them to never speak to his wife again, they listened. It made your love life absolutely miserable, but he was a good man; he only did this for you, and you would appreciate it at the end of the day when you finally could sleep in his arms, protected from the whole world.

After a year of preparation, he finally did it. He walked inside your bakery himself; the faint smell of cinnamon and fresh strawberries lingered everywhere; it was perfect. Of course, he knew your baked goods tasted good; Alejandro always brought him some, but he never went in himself. And the perfect girl you were, you were immune to Alejandro's flirting, one problem less.

"Hello, sir, how can I help you today?" you smiled at him, and his world stopped. You were even prettier from this perspective, flour on your face and that sweet little red apron. He wanted to marry you instantly, just carry you away and tie the knot, but he was a patient man, and right now, this was what he needed to be.

"Just some cinnamon rolls," and so it went on for weeks. Rudy became fast your favorite customer; he was always nice to you, funny, and left a good tip, like an extremely generous tip for just some cinnamon rolls. And if you were true to yourself, he was incredibly handsome, making you always blush like a girl with her first crush. Unfortunately, you thought he wasn’t interested in you. You always tried to flirt, but he never flirted back, or maybe he was just too obvious to realize it.

On Valentine's Day, you stayed the whole night away, baking red velvet heart cinnamon rolls just for him, a new creation, plus he would get a little heart on his cappuccino, which you tried to master for weeks.

He couldn’t contain himself when he saw this; he knew you were smitten, how you blushed and interacted around him. God, you were as obsessed as he was, but he needed to wait; he had his perfect plan.

He gave you his number just in case; Las Almas was never safe, and just so he could sleep calmly, knowing you’re safe, he said.

And surprisingly, a few weeks later, after you closed your little bakery, a man followed you on the way home. At first, you thought it was just imagination, but when you walked five times around the block and he was still there, you knew. So you did the only thing your mind comprehended: you called Rudy.

"Rudy, I'm being followed," you sobbed into the speaker while your feet practically ran.

Luckily, Rodolfo was there, shoving the guy away. If only you had known how he thanked his friend Fernando for scaring you a bit - he didn’t like this, but it was necessary. He wasn’t a bad guy; he saw himself as a determined man who would do anything for his future love.

If it were possible, your eyes would have turned into big cartoon hearts; god, he was perfect. Maybe you should try the first step, even if it's embarrassing, maybe he doesn’t like you.

"Thank you, Rudy."

"Don’t mention it, mi corazon." You blushed at this pet name, looking at him with your big doe eyes.

"Rudy, do you maybe want to stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back?" And how could he say no to this opportunity? Well, he had your words already planned, but it still made something with him.

"Of course."

"Rudy?"

"Mhm?"

"You know, I thought about maybe we could-“ You stopped, feeling incredibly stupid. Rudy was perfect; how could he want someone like you, a normal person? But for him, you were everything but normal; you were perfect the way you were, the missing piece to his life.

"What can we do?"

"You know, get to know each other better," you mumbled beneath your breath, looking at the ground.

His calloused fingers pulled your chin up, forcing you to look into his beautiful eyes as his lips softly fell on yours. It felt like fireworks; if you thought you were kissed before - you weren’t, this was new, exciting, and perfect like in a Disney movie. "Like this, mi corazon?"

"Mhm, I like this way to get to know you."

"You don’t know how long I waited for this," he admitted, looking into your eyes as if you were the only thing keeping him alive; you were everything.

"I waited longer," you admitted, and he thought, if only you had known, how long he wanted you and chased after you, the things he did for you. And the only thing on your mind was if he only would have known how long you looked at him when he was still watching you from outside the bakery.

[ashlynredonovitch]

Saw you're looking for requests 😁 i haven't seen the wonka movie yet tbh but the gif of him covered in chocolate lives in my head rent free and I'd love to see wonka x fem!reader where they're friends and both have a crush on each other. she's helping him clean up from chocolate incident and it turns into some silly fluff and one of them accidentally says "i love you" and they finally confess :)

Thank you so much for the request, and don’t worry about the double-send it’s completely okay! I hope this is what you envisioned!

Warnings: none it’s just cute

Chocolate Towel

Willy, who’s covered in some brown, thick, substance. Assumingly chocolate knowing the trio of unliked chocolatiers. You start your way over to him as Noodle skips over to Abacus for a hug. You take notice that she’s covered in the same thing.

“Y/n,” Willy almost yells once he notices your presence,excusing himself from the family he was talking to. He wraps his arms around your waist as you reciprocate his hug.

“Hi, Willy,” you giggle lightly, taking in the chocolate scent, cause now it’s definitely chocolate, “what did they do to you? You’re so sticky.”

Willy’s brows furrowed at your worried expression as he took a glance at your appearance as well, making sure you were alright, “well, I’m fine now, they tried to drown Noodle and I in chocolate, but the little orange man saved us.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You questioned, backing up out of the hug. No way the little orange man was real.

“Yeah, we were being lifted by thousands of gallons of chocolate, we both took a breath, and then the next thing I knew I heard Noodle and I gasping for air and the tank was lowering,” Willy said, as he looked at your now even more worried expression, “it was scary, though, I swore that last breath I took was it. That I’d never see light again, that I’d never see you again.”

“Oh, Willy.” You muttered, throwing your arms back around him, simply taking in his presence, as you feel his arms squeeze tighter around you, his face in your neck, “I was so worried.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Willy apologized as you leant against each other.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Wonka, you almost died. I’m very glad you didn’t though.” You teased as Willy let his face contort to a smile at the name, “come on, we have to clean you up.”

You take Willy’s hand as you lead him down towards the dock, where you take off the hand towel from your waistband, to dip it in the lake water below the stairs.

“Y’know, y/n, this is where the Cartel sent me off on the boat,” Willy explained as you wrung out the excess water, convenient that you had a towel on you, the one perk of you being trapped in a laundry, he supposed.

“You did tell me that,” you dabbed the now wet towel along his face, clearing some of the chocolate, avoiding looking into his eyes.

Willy watched in amusement as you kept dipping the towel in the water because of its small size against the rather thick layers of chocolate on him, “I appreciate your effort, thank you.”

You smile as you take the chance to look directly at him, “of course, I’d do anything to help you, Willy. Besides, your chocolate smells better than this anyway,” you confess as he squeezes your arm with the towel, stopping your motions of cleaning him up. With your free hand, you bring it to his once curly hair to try to break apart the matted chocolate covering it.

Willy just leans into the touch as your fingers try to thread through it, his fixed gaze upon your lips, “I love you,” he whispered before his eyes slightly went wide.

You focus your eyes on his as he quickly snaps his up away from your lips, smirking slightly, “Willy-“

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did, just not now, while I’m half-covered in chocolate.” Willy rants as you stare affectionately at him.

“Y/n, what is it?” Willy asks as he brings his right hand up to cup your cheek.

“I-” you started to say, before you saw his eyes glance back down to your lips, “I love you too.”

Willy’s eyes, once again, grew as he looked into your eyes for any glimpse of the truth.

You smile as you put your hand on his, which was still on your cheek, your other hand still in his hair, “I do, I love you Willy Wonka.”

Willy beams as he throws his resting hand in your waist to bring you closer, putting his forehead against yours, “I want to kiss you, y/n,”

You smile as your hand starts to massage his head, putting your other hand over his shoulder, “please.”

Willy wasted no more time as he closed the distance between you, his soft lips covering yours as you leaned into the kiss. Getting even closer as you feel his hand tighten around our waist.

“Willy,” you gasp, pulling away, seeing his now kissed-pink lips, breathing heavily.

“Yeah?” He asks leaning in for a much more simple peck this time, taking one of his hands to tilt your chin up to his. Both of you with rosy stained cheeks.

“I’m glad you didn’t die, but I’m glad you got covered in chocolate,” you whisper with a giggle as Willy holds your chin in his hand.

“Me too, y/n, me too.” Willy says as you lean back in for another passionate kiss.

[jamiewintons]

I haven’t been able to get this ask out of my head, and I’m kind of obsessed with the whole idea, so I decided to write a little bit for it! I’m terrible with writing multi-chapter fics, so I’ll probably just keep writing snippets and one shots from this universe. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

~

You were just about to escape down into the manhole when you heard someone behind you say your name. Fear spread throughout your whole body, freezing you in place. Damn it! You’d been caught, and that meant that the entire plan was probably ruined. Why had you not run faster?

A hand grabbed onto your shoulder, and you felt yourself being spun around. Your eyes widened when you saw who had caught you - it wasn’t a police officer as you had expected, but rather Mr. Fickelgruber. You felt relieved for a moment, but your heart rate quickly spiked again. Oh, this was even worse than being caught by the police! Not only was Fickelgruber a member of the Chocolate Cartel - and therefore an enemy - but you’d noticed the way he looked at you… not like he wanted to destroy you, but almost like he wanted something else. Something sinister.

“There you are, my dear,” Fickelgruber said with a sly smile. He withdrew his hand from your shoulder, studying your facial expression. “No need to look so anxious, darling. I am not going to harm you.”

“M-Mr. Fickelgruber… what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice annoyingly shaky. You wanted to sound tougher than that, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t terrified, regardless of his assurances that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“I came to talk to you,” he told you, stepping a little closer to you. You were forced to step back, leaving you pressed up against the hard, brick wal of the alleyway. “About that debt of yours. You owe quite a large sum to Mrs. Scrubbit, don’t you? Such a large sum that I’m sure you’ll never be able to find the money to pay her what she is due.”

Of course you knew that. You didn’t need to be reminded. You’d been in the service of Mrs. Scrubbit since you were a young girl - even younger than Noodle was now. When you were born, your family was quite well off. You were loved, cared for, you always had food to eat and a nice bed to sleep in. But then one day, you were told that your parents had died. No one ever told you exactly what had happened to them, just that they were gone and they were never coming back. You were supposed to go into the care of some relatives, who would also take care of your inheritance until you came of age… but rather than care for you, they stole your inheritance and dumped you with Mrs. Scrubbit, who you were told was your ‘new guardian’. You were forced to sign a contract… and then put to work in the laundry. You’d long given up hope of ever escaping.

You were silent for a long moment, before the quiet was broken by Mr. Fickelgruber’s voice once again. “Oh, have I struck a nerve, my dear? I do apologise. I didn’t mean to upset you, I simply wanted to ensure that we were on the same page.” You weren’t sure whether you believed him when he said that he didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.

“What about my debt?” you asked, averting your eyes from his face. The way he stared at you was making you nervous. “I already know I’m going to spend the rest of my life in that laundry. I gave up believing I’d find a way out years ago.”

Fickelgruber tutted. “Oh, but what if I told you there was a way for you to get out? And not just you, but all of your friends as well.” Your gaze met his again, and your eyes went wide. “I see that I’ve caught your attention now,” he said with a smirk, sounding utterly pleased with himself.

“Really? All of us could get out?” For the first time in a long time, you felt hope for the future. It was a strange sensation that you almost didn’t recognise, and for a moment, it was as if all of your troubles had melted away. But a great deal of your hope was replaced with dread when you heard Fickelgruber speak again.

“On one condition.” Ah, you should have known. There was no way he was going to offer you a way out without expecting anything in return. He was a businessman after all, and that meant he would want to make a deal.

“I don’t have anything you would want.” You felt your heart drop. Salvation had been so close, only to be ripped away from you mere moments later.

“On the contrary, my dear. You have something that I would like very much.” Fickelgruber’s hand came up to gently brush against your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. Where was he going with this? "You see, I have found myself feeling rather… lonely, as of late. But I’m sure you understand that a man in my position cannot look just anywhere for companionship.

You didn’t know what to say. You’d had absolutely no idea what Fickelgruber was going to say, and never would you have guessed he was going to seriously suggest you marry him in exchange for your freedom and that of your friends. Momentarily speechless, you stared at Fickelgruber blankly, like you were waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. But he simply stared back, and after about a minute, it finally sunk in that he was serious.

"W-what?" you stammered, completely lost for words.

"You heard me, darling," Fickelgruber said with a smirk, not seeming at all deterred by your baffled reaction. "I want you to be my wife. All of your debts will be payed, and you will live in luxury for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound nice?" His hand cupped your cheek, keeping you from looking away from him. Your face grew warm, and you felt a little bit light headed.

"Why would you want to marry me? I’m no one special, I just work in a laundry…"

"Oh, but we both know that isn’t who you always were, don’t we?” Your eyes widened in shock. How could he possibly know…? "I know where you came from, dear. The poor little orphan girl, losing her parents, and then having her inheritance ripped from her by her cruel family. You aren’t like your friends. You’re special. You deserve better than to be slaving away in some filthy laundry. You deserve to wear fine clothes, eat good food…" Fickelgruber’s voice trailed off, but he continued to stare right into your eyes. "You deserve to be cared for, and I can give you that."

What were you to do? You hated working for Mrs. Scrubbit. You were always tired and sore, and dirty… the promise of nice food and new clothes, not to mention a warm bath and a comfortable bed to sleep in… well, it was tempting. When you were a little girl, before you’d given up hope of escaping, you always dreamed of a handsome prince swooping in to save you - just like in the stories your parents read to you before they passed. Mr. Fickelgruber wasn’t exactly a prince - though you had to admit he was handsome - but he was offering you a way out. And not just for you, but for your friends as well…

“So if I say yes, all of the others will be free. You promise?” you asked cautiously, your eyes trained on his face - not that he was giving you much choice to do otherwise - trying to determine whether he was telling you the truth or not.

“Of course, my dear. Simply say the word, and I will send the money straight to Mrs. Scrubbit.” Though you couldn’t be completely sure, it seemed to you that Fickelgruber was telling the truth. Did he really care for you that much that he would pay such exorbitant fees, just to take you as his wife? The thought of someone desiring you so much… it made your stomach flutter. He truly was offering you a good deal…

"Yes, Mr. Fickelgruber. I… I will marry you."

[duckapus]

Bob: Do you ever just touch your face and think "There are bones under my skin"

Bob: Sorry I'm on ketamine.

Shroomy: I wish I had bones.

Karen: I wish I had ketamine.

----

Mario: Your man doesn't have the mental fortitude to caramelize onions.

Bowser: Your man thinks it takes 5-10 minutes to caramelize onions.

SMG4: Who the fuck is caramelizing onions? Did y'all forget apples exist?

Bowser: Do... do you think caramelizing onions means putting caramel on onions!?

Mario: *texting 3 while saying it* Your man thinks caramelizing onions means putting caramel on onions.

----

Olimar: Ah, the great outdoors. A man can really hear himself think out here.

Olimar's thoughts: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!?

Olimar: Well that was a mistake...

----

Cole: *texting the rest of the teen squad* Time sensitive question how flirt boy

Laharl: Throw rocks at he

Ash: Hot dog

Tulip: Kill him

Cole: Thanks guys

----

Cursor: Every talk I have with you people gets more and more absurd.

Crash: You say "you people" like you're not one of us. Well I've got news for you, Cursor. You're already on the Christmas card.

----

Tari, helping decorate the Showgrounds for Halloween: This year I got the bats that are smiling because it's more realistic.

SMG3: Why is that more realistic?

Tari: 'Cause they're happy! It's their favorite holiday, they love it!

----

Francis: Hentai is a perfectly respectable artform.

----

Cursor: Note to self, never share my feelings again.

----

Cursor: *looking dramatically through a window into the distance* There are some things I haven't told you about me, CPU.

CPU: You haven't told me anything about you. I can't remember if I've even seen your personnel file.

----

Saiko: Mario has runed seven christmases and saved four.

----

Andrew: We raised two perfectly functional children.

Tulip: *gestures between herself and Archie* What, you have other kids we don't know about?

----

Captured Anime Cartel member: I ain't talkin'.

Waluigi: Oh, we have ways of making you talk... *dramatically pulls out a large knife... and uses it to cut a cake*

AC member: ...Can I have some?

Wario: Cake is for talkers.

----

Sally, who has been dealing with Bullshit today: I'm a nice person but I'm going to start throwing rocks at people.

----

Rhythmi, getting introduced to the rest of the CCC Programs after Mr. L made her: WOW this place is a freakshow. I don't respect literally any of you people.

Chroma: *whispers to the nearest person* Are we allowed to kill her?

Lydia: *huffs* I wish...

[eros-thanatos89]

meta/thoughts on BCS

Oh, man. I've never posted meta, or just thoughts on shows before, but I'm trying to give myself permission to be as cringe as I want and to ramble on the internet about the fictional things that I think way too much about. So here goes, my first meta post!

I just rewatched BCS S5E3 "The Guy For This" (let's be real: mostly for thirsty reasons, because I wanted to see Lalo and Nacho looking pretty in the garage scene with Saul) and Goddamn, it just smacked me in the face and reminded me what a pivotal episode it is in so many ways.

One of the many recurring themes that I love to see explored so well in both Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul is the many ways that people deal with (or don't) the consequences of their actions, and this episode is just chock full of that, as well as setting up the first steps down the "bad choice road" or the road ahead for so many characters.

In that garage, Saul really steps into Saul as we know him in Breaking Bad. By taking Lalo's money (even if under duress) he's taking the first step into leaving Jimmy behind and becoming the *criminal lawyer* we all love/love to hate. Jimmy's pattern of avoiding the consequences of his actions or uncomfortable emotions like the guilt over Chuck's disgrace and death is running away: by escaping into his scams, and by literally running away from himself, choosing a new identity--he's not Jimmy anymore; he's Saul, so he doesn't have to lug around Jimmy's baggage. And even though he tries to backtrack from this first step onto the bad choice road leading to him becoming "un amigo del cartel", when he tries to suggest that Lalo find another lawyer, it's too late. As Nacho tells him, "When you're in, you're in."

And Nacho would know! Speaking of running away, Nacho has been trying to evade or escape his problems for so long: first by setting up Tuco to avoid having his side hustle with Pryce discovered, and in this episode, trying to convince his Papa to run away with him to Canada. The scene where Manuel confronts Nacho at his house never fails to break my heart. Nacho is so desperate for Manuel to escape with him to a new, safe life, and Manuel is so adamant that Nacho face up to the consequences of his choices. Which ultimately, he has no choice but to do. He has to confront what he's done and give himself up to save his Papa's life, just like Manuel encouraged him to do so long ago. But by giving up his life rather than turning himself in to the police. It's so damn tragic.

And then there's Kim. She's always running away from the poverty and instability of her past by so doggedly pursuing success as a lawyer. I love how this episode highlights her increasing dissatisfaction with Mesa Verde and her yearning to pursue more meaningful pro-bono work so she can use the law to help people like the little, powerless girl she used to be. The confrontation between her and Mr. Acker is stellar. Kim has this rare moment of vulnerability, letting down her walls to share a story of her childhood struggles with Mr. Acker in a genuine attempt to connect with him, only to have him scoff at her and accuse her of making it up to manipulate him. You can tell his tirade about her being ultimately a selfish person who tries to comfort herself with acts of charity really rankles her because it goes so strongly against her sense of self and represents everything it seems she's afraid of becoming, and so much of what she resents about Howard: the entitlement, the sense of ease and privilege, the self-congratulatory charity acts (don't get me wrong, I really like Howard, pompous as he can sometimes be, but I think this is how Kim views him). By the end of the episode, when she escalates Saul toying with a beer bottle on the balcony into throwing them into the parking lot, you can already see her pivoting and taking those first steps down the road that ultimately leads to the plot against Howard, which she justifies to herself in the name of using the Sandpiper money to fund her pro-bono work. And then in the end of the series, she both runs away AND atones for her actions by moving to Florida and living a life literally leeched of all color and joy, and is just doing penance by living a muted, mediocre life.

Domingo's arc in this episode is so crucial, too! Lalo and Nacho recruit Saul to feed him the information to undermine Fring, but when he meets Hank and Steve Gomez in prison, it starts him on the road to transforming from Domingo/Ocho Loco to Krazy 8. Ultimately leaving the cartel (I like to think because of the loss of his friend Nacho) and setting himself up as an independent dealer and even snitching on his own cousin, Emilio; which then leads to his collision with Walt and Jesse.

And the scene with Mike in the bar! The way he's barely holding it together as he tries (not very successfully) to drink away the pain and guilt caused by killing Werner just a few episodes before (S4E9) and is so triggered by the postcard that reminds him of their conversation is so powerful. I just love how he encounters the group of guys who try to intimidate and rob him and he defends himself in this episode, but we later see him intentionally return and seek them out in S5E5 "Dedicado a Max" in an act of self-loathing and roundabout self-harm via taking a beating and not even trying to defend himself.

I'm rambling, but these shows make me litcherally mentally unwell with how fantastically nuanced and textured the writing, acting, visual storytelling, music, everything is! I'm just going to be ruminating on all these many facets of accepting consequences, atoning, and/or running away affects these characters and the arc of both shows and the world they inhabit for the next long while....

[kylejsugarman]

so fucking funny how gus keeps all these important people on retainer, he has bodyguards and reinforcements and cartel doctors at his beck and call, and then he also just has gale, a gay middle-aged man who fought in the war on autism on the side of autism and just minces around his little apartment with his rare plants and haunted antiques presumably paid for by gus himself until gus needs him to come over and look through a microscope. its the relationship equivalent of when mr krabs fired everyone from the krusty krab commercial shoot except for the clown

[seraphtrevs]

AU where Chuck lives long enough to be the one dressing down Jimmy and Kim in their apartment that fateful night…. how does that change things? *Does* it change things?

lol don’t ask why Chuck can go out idk… let’s say he kept working with the Dr and improving? Easier for him to spread his cheer around now<33

Ow my heart! This is a very cursed AU. 😭

For Jimmy...in the immediate aftermath, I actually don't think much changes. His coping mechanism is denial. He chose denial when Chuck died in canon, even though he had played a part in Chuck's decision to kill himself. I think his denial would probably go into overdrive, and he'd become way more self-destructive way more quickly.

But I think it would change things for Kim. If Chuck died instead of Howard, I don't think Kim would have left him. He would be too destroyed, and she would feel too guilty that her thirst for vengeance against Howard caused Jimmy to have to witness his brother being murdered in front of him. I think we might even get a Mrs. Goodman in this timeline, in that Kim would enable Jimmy's full transformation into Saul and become his co-conspirator in real crimes. I think their relationship would really suffer, though, and they would both be miserable. A real hand-in-unlovable-hand situation - the thing Kim was trying to avoid in canon by leaving him.

(Although it's interesting to think about the domino effect of Chuck not dying, because I'm not sure the Ham Scam happens if Chuck is still alive. Even after everything went to shit with Chuck, I still think that Chuck's disapproval put some breaks on Jimmy's worse impulses - obviously not all of them, since he did commit fraud to get Mesa Verde for Kim. But working with the cartel? Getting into shoot-outs? Maybe Jimmy doesn't go down that path if Chuck is still alive.)

I'm also really curious how a confrontation between Lalo and Chuck would go lmao. I mean - probably the same as with Howard, but a part of me thinks that the sheer power of Chuck's orneriness would buy him at least another couple minutes

[flamboyant-king]

The world is a stage and I'm God's favorite clown. The heavens cheer for an encore and I'm revived once more.

I have this one scenario that brings Cain to respect Samson more than just some unpaid "bodyguard." I just can't freaking draw it for the life of me. So, have some stuff I drew and have my intentions/the context under the cut. Bazinga.

Eve catches wind of possible treasures that, of course, attract Cain's attention, so she gives them the coordinates and let's them do their thing. Cain and Samson are lured into a cave where they are ambushed by 30-ish drug cartel members because Mr. Cain just loves money, mischief, and manipulation. Before they could even react, Cain is shot multiple times and collapses to the floor. Samson was shot too, but remains standing looking down at Cain. The men taunt Samson for being a poor bodyguard and shoot at him again. Samson is unfazed as he walks over to one of the stalagmites. The men are at a loss, why does it seem like the bullets do nothing? Samson grabs the tip of the stalagmite and kicks at the base, detaching the thing from the floor. The men are intimidated, realizing what is going to happen next.

It's clubbin' time. *beats you to death* *beats you to death* *beats you death* x30

It's a gosh dang mess. Bludgeoned. Crushed. Impaled. Minced. Just blood all over the place. A normal Thursday afternoon for Samson. And a normal episode of Samson goes Bananas broadcasted on Angel TV.

When it seems they're all dead, Samson calms down. It's quiet now. Except for a quiet moan. How unlikely, someone alive after his rampage? He turns around and is absolutely dumbfounded. Cain's lying on the ground rubbing his head like he's hungover. He pushes himself up and looks around. Bodies strewn about and Samson in the middle of it all covered in blood. All of their blood.

"Cain? You're Alive?"

Cain looks at himself now. He's covered in blood too. His own blood.

"Oh. Haha yeah. You see. I can't die. I'm not allowed to die. GOD WON'T LET ME DIE!"

Cain has his spontaneous old man meltdown while Samson just watches. It's a lot to take in and it's a lot to let out. Cain gasps for air and the angels laugh out loud. Humanity is hilarious. Mortality is amusing.

Samson kneels down in front of Cain, placing a hand on his shoulder, mirroring the gesture of when they first met.

"I know I'm here to protect you, but can I promise you this? With all my strength, not only will I keep you safe, but I will also be the one who kills you."

The angels' laughter stops.

Cain chuckles.

"I hope you do."

And then they kiss. No they don't. But wouldn't that be pretty gay? Nah, they leave the cave and go back to their car that's parked a mile or so deep into the forest.

Samson gets in first. Cain has to make a quick phone call to his dear friend, Eve.

Cain hangs up and sits in the car, as well. It's quiet now.

Then Samson starts snoring.

Unbelievable.

--

You know me, I like to have a bit of drama sprinkled in my shit posting just for continuity and like a basis to go off of.

Eve was one of Cain's blood donation "whores," but Samson is here now, so she's relaxing and just gathering information. She usually cleans up the messes Cain leaves behind. Evidence, bodies, or just looting. (I have an example of a mess she cleans up, but that's backstory I might get to.)

Cain will try any and every method to bring in more money, maybe robbing banks, maybe treasure hunting, maybe working a lemonade stand. OH MY GOD, Jacob and Esau running a lemonade stand for Cain that's freaking so stupid. Cain mostly is a loan shark, but he dabbles in the black market with stolen goods and stolen guts.

Samson has some debt with Cain he is repaying by being his "bodyguard." Sending Bethany to stupid fancy Christian academy is expensive. Assisting Cain on excursions, breaking traps, or helping collect pay from certain folks. Samson and Bethany get to sleep at Cain's hideout, but shhh no one can know where it is. Bethany, why did you bring Lazarus here. Gosh dangit.

The practically immortality comes from Cain's Curse "bestowed" on him by God for killing his brother, Abel. (Of which I do have sketched, but that's a mess Eve will have to clean up too.) No harm can come to Cain and those who harm him get returned to them sevenfold. So, if Cain is stabbed, the person would be wrung like a wet towel and slapped across the asscheeks of an elephant and laid down to be trampled on by said elephant.

That's what I got so far. Have Samson all bloodied up close and personal cause gosh dangit I did good on the blood. Love you guys!

Have a good and cringey freaking day.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Chair

This is it. It is John's wedding day. After tonight, things would change for good. Not that they ever were the same as soon as I came back after my fake death, but society says a wedding makes everything official.

I would never see him wake up and come down from the bedroom upstairs as I play my violin by the window. Never hear his voice around me in this house, never get to laugh at his whimsical typing habit. Never get to find an excuse to invade his personal space.

How would I? He no longer lives here, and he would never visit as often as he was able to when I was planning his wedding.

The thought is unbearable. I exhale and shake my head as I try to think of something else - though Mrs Hudson being here, sitting on John's chair out of all places, and rambling about her married life when no one even asked doesn't help.

"My best friend, Margaret – she was my chief bridesmaid."

I roll my eyes and put my cup and saucer on the side table.

"We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that."

For God's sake, stop rubbing it in! "Aren’t there usually biscuits?" I ask instead.

"I’ve run out."

"Have the shops?" I stand up and glance at the door pointedly. Anything to be away from human contact in any way, shape, or form for a few minutes.

But she continues her sob story anyway. "She cried the whole day, saying, 'Ooh, it’s the end of an era.'"

"I’m sure the shop on the corner is open," I say with a tight smile.

"She was probably right, really."

I close my eyes and wish I could be invisible.

"I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?" She shakes her head. "So sad."

Probably she was in love with you like I am with John. Ever considered that? I obviously don't say it out loud.

Though I've always thought marrying the head of an incredibly famous cartel in America was a rather stupid thing to do on Mrs Hudson's part.

Not that it matters now.

"Anyway, you’ve got things to do." So much filtering I have to do for every damn human interaction. Would rather be alone.

No, that's not quite true: would rather be alone with John, but he doesn't want the same thing. Certainly not. Gotta distract my mind again.

"No, not really. I’ve got plenty of time to -"

"Biscuits," I cut her off. She finally gets up from that chair and walks to the door of the flat.

"I really am going to have a word with your mother."

"You can if you like. She understands very little." Positively nothing about my sentiments.

I close the door on her - John would've given me an earful if he were here (not again!) - and turn around. I let out a sigh and turn to look at the chair Mrs Hudson just emptied.

John's armchair. My John - at least in my mind.

Once upon a time, I'd had a feeling that there was a slight probability that he felt the same way. Clearly, I was proven wrong when I saw him with Mary that night.

Even more so when he continued to be engaged to her, after having forgiven me for faking my death - at least on the surface.

Perhaps it was a miscalculation on my part. He never felt the same and never will. He's in love with Mary.

I can do nothing but be civil with her and respect John's choice.

However, as I stare at John's chair in this flat, I feel as if a piece of John himself is still here with me.

I have to be at the wedding hall in an hour, being the best man of the wedding, so I force myself to not become one with that chair.

I turn around to make my way to my bedroom to get dressed.

Into Battle.

***

Prompt Chair by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @gaylilsherlock @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno @curlyjohnlock @missdeliadili @kettykika78 .

[jazy3]

Wonka (2023) Movie Review

I went to see the new Wonka movie over the weekend and I highly recommend it! First off, it’s a musical! The marketing for the movie here hasn’t been making that clear at all which is a shame because it’s delightful! The movie made me cry and laugh out loud right off the bat. It’s the first movie that’s made me feel like that in a while. If you loved the original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory with Gene Wilder you’ll like this one! It’s got the same vibe and spirit to it and the characters feel like ones you’d find in a Roald Dahl novel. It’s a great movie to take your kids too as well!

SPOILERS AHEAD!

In the film, Willy Wonka is an aspiring magician, inventor, and chocolatier. He arrives in Europe to establish his chocolate shop at the Galeries Gourmet. Armed with nothing but a hatful of dreams, he manages to change the world, one delectable bite at a time. He arrives in Paris and after using up his meager savings is coerced into staying at Mrs. Scrubitt's Boarding House by a man named Bleacher who turns out to be her henchman.

After falling into misfortune, he hatches an escape plan and with the help of his newfound friends finds a way to finally bring his chocolates to the masses and free himself and his friends from captivity and oppression. The movie is designed to be a prequel to the 1971 Classic but set in Paris and depending on your interpretation either pre-dates Wonka’s arrive in England or is set in an alternative timeline or universe.

This movie pulled on my heart strings and made me genuinely cry within the first few minutes. It also made me laugh hysterically! The comedic timing was great, and Hugh Grant as an Oompa Loompa was hilarious! I loved the back story they created for the Oompa Loompas about how they came to work for him and why they’re so loyal. It was way funnier and a lot less offensive than I was anticipating. I was worried they’d create a back story for them that would come across as prejudice and offensive, but they didn't. They found a way to make the interactions between Wonka and Hugh Grant’s character funny without being offensive.

What really makes the movie work is Timothée Chalamet’s performance. It turns out he’s a surprisingly good singer and you definitely buy him as Wonka! He brings the same sort of mischievous spirit and kindness to the role that Wilder did but puts his own spin on it. Calah Lane, the actress who plays Noodle, his main collaborator in the film, was excellent! She’s definitely one to watch! The movie featured Colour Blind Casting similar to how characters in the Shonda Rhimes universe are cast. So think Bridgerton meets Whimsical Musical. Speaking of which, Abigail the giraffe totally stole the show! An excellent addition to be sure!

The supporting cast was fantastic! Jim Carter, best known as the Butler from Downton Abbey plays an Accountant; Rowan Atkison, best known as Mr. Bean, plays a corrupt chocaholic priest, and Mathew Baynton from Horrible Histories plays a chocolate shop owner who’s a member of the city’s chocolate cartel. Fellow Horrible Histories alum Simon Farnaby plays Basil, a bamboozled Zoo security guard, Colin O'Brien from Dear Edward plays a young Willy Wonka, and Sally Hawkins plays his mother.

Kobna Holdbrook-Smith does an excellent job of playing a police officer with a conscience working in a corrupt system overrun by chocoholics! Keegan-Michael Key plays the corrupt and totally inept Chief of Police, and Olivia Coleman rounds out the cast as the despicable Mrs. Scrubitt! Part of the reason the characters feel so authentic to Dahl’s work is because they are based on characters from other stories of his. Paul King, the Director, worked closely with the Dahl Estate, and Dahl’s grandson Luke Kelly served as a Producer. The trio of villains known as the Chocolate Cartel were inspired by Boggis, Bunce, and Bean from the Fantastic Mr. Fox and the character of Mrs. Scrubbit was inspired by Dahl's short story The Landlady.

Some of my favourite lines of the film were:

“Judgement has come in the most unexpected way!”

“It's a ruined castle.”

“That does defy explanation.”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on all those unsolved murders?”

“He doesn’t even work here!”

I thought the movie did a really good job of depicting Parisian culture and how expensive everything is! In real life Paris is beautiful but there are so many things that the movies get wrong about what Paris, France as a whole, and French culture is actually like. In real life, things in Paris are very expensive, you have to be warry of pick pockets, and you have to be careful as many of the people you’ll see have an angle or are trying to get something from you or make money off you. I loved that they found comedic ways to show that while also highlighting just how beautiful and charming the city can be.

I found the back story as to why Wonka hates Slugworth so much and their rivalry really interesting. I wasn’t expecting it and I was pleasantly surprised. The implication from the film, if you take it to be a prequel, is that while Slugworth’s co-conspirators Fickelgruber and Prodnose were finished for good after being exposed he eventually rebuilt his empire which is why the rivalry between himself and Wonka continued. I did find it strange that when they went looking for Noodle’s mom, they just went down the list of people with that name instead of starting with the librarians and book shop clerks in town when they know she was a bookworm based on what Slugworth told them.

I loved the castle building sequence at the end! Although I was a bit disappointed as I thought we were going to see how Wonka expanded his operation to London at the end. FYI there’s a cute little bonus scene soon after the credits start so stick around for that! I loved the epilogue song and them taking the time to tell us that there was going to be bonus content and a post-credits scene right after the bat so you didn’t have to sit and wait for it. If you like musicals and loved the original movie I really recommend this one!

Until next time!

[cavalierious-whim]

Of Handjobs and Geniuses (ScrewTio)

Dr. Ratio finds himself bored at an event and drags Mr. Screwllum to a dark and quiet corner.

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--

“So tell me—just how functional is fully functional?”

 A fool’s question for most but Veritas isn’t a fool, he’s a genius, so he’s allowed this one consideration. 

“Question—”

Insufferable, Veritas thinks, the way this man talks, both in that dull, dry tone and the way he thinks about it long after Screwllum takes his leave. Too polite, too proper, too—

“—is the level of functionality concerning my genitalia important for this specific moment?”

No. Yes. No. It isn’t Veritas who drags his hand down a chest, tracing the hemmed edge of a flimsy tunic. He may have pulled him into a dark corner but it is Screwllum who has the wandering touches, who is far more interested in the lithe shape of his form. 

“I do think that the question is apt when considering any future plans.”

“Future plans? We have barely executed this one, as poorly formed as it is.”

Poorly formed is a kind descriptor—but Screwllum is like that, isn’t he? Too kind when it comes to humanity, endlessly curious about what it is that makes humans tick. There is no plan, only action and reaction. Veritas found this particular space station event rather boring so the natural order of operations was to find a new puzzle to solve.

“Are you complaining?”

“I can only point out the rather ill-timing of your arousal.”

Veritas feels the smirk melt right off of his face. “I would have expected a man as learned as you to be better at dirty talk, but, then again, perhaps I should remind myself that a computer is only that—a computer. Absolute boner killer.” It nearly pains him to say boner, but there are times when a more crass wording is warranted. 

Screwllum’s expression cannot physically change but somehow, ever-so-slightly, Veritas picks up on the change in his demeanor. “Question: If your arousal is… killed—” Veritas snorts at that. “—then I ask for you to explain this.”

Veritas stops laughing when Screwllum’s hand drops to the front of his trousers. His gloved hand sweeps across the tented front, just the barest tease of a touch. This, Screwllum is better at, this soft-handed touch that makes his cock twitch in his clothing. All those thoughts of terrible dirty talk and ill attempts at flirting melt into the shadows that cloak them, and Veritas finds himself bracing against an old cargo container to keep himself upright.

“You aren’t unhandsome, despite being a mechanical windbag.”

“I would question your taste in potential partners—”

“You wouldn’t if you knew me better. Truly, Mr. Screwllum, you’re the most normal of the lot.”

There is a pause. The soft whirring of Screwllum’s inner workings is easily heard when pressed so close together. “And yet you insult—”

“Your dirty talk, yes. Abysmal. Tell me, Mr. Screwllum, have you ever fucked a man?”

Screwllum tilts his head, the tassel of his monocle swinging gently. “Answer: I am, in fact, fully functional in any capacity you so wish, and it may interest you to know that I am not entirely unpracticed.”

There is something funny about the thought of Screwllum sleeping with other people. Not strange—no, Veritas expects it, almost. One cannot observe humanity without considering every inch and corner of humankind. Figuratively and literally. Still. 

“I feel that I should inform you that it is in ill taste to inflate your—”

“You will find that I haven’t inflated anything yet.”

A joke. Veritas finds his mouth curling, annoyingly endeared—but it lasts only a moment before the annoyance settles in. “Your hand,” Veritas murmurs.

“I shall remove it—”

“I didn’t say that.” Were Screwllum a man he’d have a half-lidded gaze—Veritas knows that. However, there is a question that is needling his scholarly brain. “What do you get out of this?”

Another pause. That soft, whirring sound that Veritas finds strangely soothing. “Question—”

“Must you frame every sentence in such a way?” Veritas has no idea if that is a quirk of Screwllum’s programming or merely a preference. 

Screwllum huffs, a soft hiss of laughter that sounds almost foreign. “Dr. Ratio—” Really, he should call him by his name considering the hand that brushes against his cock, but Veritas doesn’t correct him. “—do you think that I am incapable of experiencing pleasure?”

What a curious thought. “Can you?”

“Rebuttal: What is it that you constitute as pleasure?” Screwllum’s knuckles press harder against Veritas’s clothed erection. “Many would assume that a being such as myself would be unable to experience arousal—as you clearly did. But then I must ask: What is pleasure? Is it not merely the act of feeling enjoyment? Satisfaction? These are things that I am well acquainted with, being a genius of many achievements.”

What a dick, thinks Veritas. But, takes one to know one he supposed, and he’s more than willing to admit that he isn’t the kindest man in this galaxy. 

“And does this bring you pleasure? Touching me?” 

“I always enjoy watching my partners come undone. There is… pleasure in that, and it has fueled my indulgences through the years.”

Veritas gives him a too-sweet grin that is mostly sarcastic. “And is this an indulgence?”

“Yes—and do not give me that look. I am incapable of lying.”

That sounds like a lie but it’s a concern for another time. Veritas finds it difficult to think with Screwllum stroking his cock through the thick fabric of his trousers, that gentle brush of his knuckles having turned into a proper squeeze. 

Veritas leans against the cargo container, legs parting as Screwllum bends closer. It’s weird to have a partner who cannot kiss you, who has no mouth, lips, or eyes to betray emotion, but Screwllum’s hands work perfectly fine, deft as they are when pulling at the opening of Veritas’s trousers. 

“Here?” 

“Are you not the one who pulled me into this corner?” Screwllum seems genuinely unconcerned, and Veritas still does nothing to stop his hand from dipping between fabric and his heated skin. 

Veritas hisses as Screwllum’s wrist brushes the spot just below his navel. “Cold,” he blurts, that metal hand a sudden reminder that Screwllum is not a man—at least not in the traditional sense. 

Thoughts are lost. He’d teased Screwllum about potentially inexperience but Veritas finds himself woefully wrong. Not quite practiced—no; Screwllum’s movements are jerky and odd, but he watches Veritas closely and is a very, very quick learner. The movements of his hand smooth out and he gives Veritas’s cock a stroke from base to tip that leaves him breathless. 

Screwllum’s hand is still cold, even through his glove, but the heat of Veritas’s skin clings to that fine, smooth leather, and the more that Screwllum jerks his cock, the hotter the space in his trousers burns. 

“Question,” says Screwllum then, with the absolute worst timing. “Is this adequate?”

Adequate, he asks. Veritas could punch him but he isn’t in the mood to break his hand, and something tells him that it would only amuse Screwllum further because the question is a damned tease. 

There are two options: he doesn’t answer, proving Screwllum right or he does answer, also proving Screwllum correct. A no-win situation. Screwllum has backed Veritas into a corner with the sort of ease that he hates being impressed by, and normally he’d blame the computer bits and programming, but Screwllum proves himself time and time again that he’s clearly more than a machine. 

Screwllum thumbs over the tip of his cock. “Observation: You’re wet.”

“You’re a fool—”

“And hard,” continues Screwllum, pulling his cock from his trousers properly. It’s dark enough. He’s covered by Screwllum’s form so that those passing by aren’t likely to see. “Good heft. You fit in my palm well enough—”

“Must you narrate?”

“No,” admits Screwllum. Veritas has the distinct thought that he would be smiling had he lips or smirking. “But it annoys you, so I am far more inclined to do so as a result.” He punctuates the thought with another twist of his hand, and Veritas finds himself biting back a moan. 

Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Screwllum leans in too close for something that’s more akin to rivals-with-apparent-benefits. Smells like metal and machine oil, and Veritas finds that he can’t get enough. Another stroke of his cock, this one slow and languid as Screwllum watches the way Veritas reacts as if he’s researching for a paper. Another sweep of his thumb across the tip of Veritas’s cock—and then Veritas is coming, spilling against that damnable leather glove, stunned stupid by his quick and sudden orgasm. 

Screwllum has the decorum to clean him up, politely yanking a handkerchief from his breast pocket to drag it across Veritas’s softening cock. And then he looks, studying his come that rests in his palm. “Observation—”

“I swear to the Aeons, if you comment on my semen—”

Screwllum does not. He offers him a boon by way of laughter instead, a deep sound that sounds far less tinny than the rest of his words. Then he tucks away that handkerchief, and then Veritas’s cock. “This was fun,” he says then, quietly, as he fastens Veritas’s trousers. “About what you said earlier—future plans. I am amenable to another tryst if you so wish, though I would kindly ask that it doesn’t take place in… a corridor. I enjoy sharing dinner first, at least.”

Veritas blinks. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Screwllum steps back and readjusts his glove. “I think not,” he says dryly. “Merely a meal between colleagues, followed by a potential nightcap.” 

“For research purposes, I assume,” finished Veritas, pulling himself upright on wobbling legs. 

“If that is your preferred dynamic.”

Veritas rubs his forehead, too rung out to think about quipping back with a double entendre. Another time. Another—well, that’s the question at hand, isn’t it? “You’re annoying, aren’t you?”

Screwllum tugs his lapels straight and even. “I’ve been called worse, I assure you. Besides, you’ll find that petty insults of such a nature do little to harm me.”

Of course.

“That being said…” Screwllum trails off and clears his throat. “Dinner would be nice. I am surrounded by geniuses, yes, but I rarely share the company of someone so… effortlessly himself.”

Veritas grunts and drags a hand through his hair. “Consider me intrigued enough to oblige. Your phone, please.”

Screwllum seems surprised by how easily he gave in. Veritas ignores it, adding his contact and handing the phone back. “Don’t call. Only text if it’s to set a date. Otherwise, you’ll be left on read, or worse—blocked. My patience is thin and you’re lucky that you’ve held my attention longer than most.”

Screwllum hums and pockets his phone. “Noted.” 

Veritas is about to brush by him when Screwllum reaches out. Metal knuckles brush across his cheekbone, still warmed by the heat of his own skin. 

“Grease,” says Screwllum, dragging his thumb over the spot. “Likely my fault. I apologize.”

Veritas’s heart skips a beat. Oh, no, no, no, this is a mistake—but his bed has been made and it’s time to lie in the sheets. He knocks Screwllum’s hand away and leaves, barely offering him a wave of his hand.

Later, Screwllum sends him a text message thanking him for the company because he is, at his core, an absurd gentleman.

And, against all reason, Veritas chooses to answer.

[aliypop]

If You're Looking For Trouble : Part 1

Word Count: 1,406

Writers Note: This is a limited series requested by @sissylittlefeather

Warning: Language

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: It's 1960 and the battle of the mobs is not a crossfire you want to mess with, with Elvis as the Don of the Memphis Mafia finds himself head-deep in insanity over Cecelia Shanel Valmos Don of the Valmos Cartel

Chapters: 1, 2 (coming soon)

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

@everythingelvispresley

@dreamondina94

@elvismylove04

@pocketfulofpresley

Memphis Tennessee 1960

"You seen the boss lately?" Judy asked as Red shrugged. They were covering for Elvis on an assignment at his Cadilac dealership, Little Tupelo. It was his pride and joy out of all of his covers, "He's still in his meeting." Sonny mentioned as they sighed. It wasn't like Elvis to be late. Besides, he promised Sam Philips he'd be here by 3:30 pm, and it was already 3:28, "Meeting with who?" Judy asked, 

"He didn't say..." 

Beale Street was booming with flashing lights and music, the glitz and glam of sin, a small taste of Vegas, if one could say, but it wasn't enough that Elvis was sitting across from the daughter of one of the most prestigious cartels. "Cecelia..." her entourage of women surrounded her as she glared at him, hazel eyes piercing his soul, "I'm sorry, who's Cecelia... " She turned to look at Rosa and Carlotta as they looked around, 

"Ms. Valmos, you can't buy this dance hall..."

"That's better... Tell me, why can't I..." She leaned in as she laughed, "Cause it was 'sposed to be mine!" rage in his eyes as she grinned, 

"What're you gonna do about it, Presley..." 

"I'm gonna fix you, that's what?" He said behind gritted teeth as she laughed, 

"Fix me...I should have my tailors fix that horrid suit. Who's dressin you, you're underboss Tom." She teased as he banged his fist on the table,

 "Damnit Cecelia! You should know better than to compete with me..." 

"You should know better than to make me a rival..." Looking at her watch as she looked back at him,

 "Why, you little!" a switchblade flew past him, almost grazing his ear. Cecelia was fearless, but Elvis would seek his revenge soon enough. 

"Are you done having a fit, Mr. Presley?"

"I'll show you a fit,"

"Like the one Mr. Philips will have if you don't make it to your little boy toy car lot?"

"How'd you..."

"Please, nothing goes by me except bullets, Mr. Presley..." She smirked as he walked behind her. 

 "Cheryl and Midge will see you out." She looked at him, her dress pressed against her body as her heels clicked on the floor. Elvis wasn't scared, though. He knew what he had to do. He had to make the first move. Elvis had to show her that the Memphis Mafia wasn't scared of a group of women parading intimidation tactics.  

"So, any luck..." Jerry asked as Elvis glared, sitting in his limo as he was silent. He hadn't lost, but when it came to her, he always did. She was always ahead of him, and he needed to know how. "She bought the God damn dance hall!" He growled as Jerry shook his head,

 "Me, Charlie, and Joe will pay our respects to the Paradise Lounge tonight..."

"What's the plan..."

"Watch it go up in flames, I guess." Jerry shrugged, laughing, the game was afoot, and Elvis would win.

Nashville Tennessee 1960

"Are we ready..." Cecelia asked, sitting at her desk as Midge inhaled a sharp breath. Something was usually wrong when she did that. "About tonight, boss..." Midge looked up at her as she turned the radio on, 

"This just in. The beloved cabaret Dance Hall Paradise Lounge found on fire." Cecelia growled, her teeth grinding against each other in anger as she screamed, "FUCKING PRESLEY!" She slammed her hand against the wall as she looked up at Midge,

 "Load my car up..."

"Cece..."

"Fucking load it!" She was in a state of rage, revenge, even. She wanted to get even. And she wanted to do it now, "Are you okay, mi vida?" Carlotta asked as Cecelia laughed, "I'm fine... It's just The Memphis Mob beat me at my own game. I won't have to lie about how the place caught fire." She shrugged as she fixed her dress and makeup,

 "So what are you gonna do..."Rosa asked,

Memphis Tennessee 1960

 A smokey, gas-like smell was lingering down the streets of Memphis as The Memphis Electric Company truck was a blaze along with its building. She knew Elvis loved this place, for it was his first shot. Working secretly with the mob, but he had to learn when you get too close to the sun, you get burned, "That ought to teach him..." Cecelia smirked as she left. But there was one thing that Cecelia didn't know was that news traveled fast in Memphis, and it traveled to Graceland Mansion first, from the maids to the cooks to the boys. 

"E..."

"I know Jerry, I know..." Elvis didn't even look up from his book and his sandwich. He didn't seem phased about it, but he also didn't seem to be at ease either,

 "So..."

"I'll send her a gift..." Jerry laughed. Elvis always had a way with gifts. Sometimes, it was rings to pretty women. and the heads of someone close to his enemies. He couldn't wait to hear about what exactly it was.

"M-Mr Officer... No, no, too cheesy..." Cecelia sighed, fixing her makeup in her compact to look distressed, "Officer!" She practiced again as she took a deep breath. She saw an officer walk towards her as she mustered fake tears, "Officer, come quick! I don't know what happened! But I do hope no one is hurt..." Cecelia said as he looked at her, "It's good people like you who keep this city safe."

"Doing my job, Ms." He nodded as she walked off, 

The next day, Cecelia was at her new Dance Hall as painters and movers came in to gussy it up, 

"Package, Ms. Valmos..." Cheryl said,

"Let me see it, please?" She asked as she saw the box. It was a bit long and light. It wasn't a body. She listened in, and it wasn't a bomb. Tied on top was a pink bow and a rose. As she sat down, she pulled it apart and opened it, Revealing a white Mink fur Coat and a note that read,

I know what you did

EP

"Well..."

"Mr. Mississippi thinks he so tough, huh, with his blue eyes and that smile...We'll see how big he barks." Her laugh was as sinister as her smile, but she meant every word. Elvis knew this would eat her up alive. Besides, she and Gifts didn't get along, not since she and Anthony Rodgers had a mishap rumored that he'd been dumped in the river missing his heart.

"Do you think she got the gift?" Joe asked Elvis, who had finished eating his sandwich, "We'll see..." He said, waiting for her to call. Something about her always intrigued him. Maybe it was because they were born a day apart, Or her body in her dresses and how she carried herself, being she was the only cartel that was run entirely by women, or perhaps it was how she wasn't scared of him but could make him tremble in his loafers, 

"So, how's things going with that girl?"

"Which girl? You know there's several." He laughed, slicking his hair again as Jerry rolled his eyes, 

"One day, you'll settle down."

"Eh, maybe..." He shrugged, "Say you guys up for a movie?" Elvis asked. When they arrived at the theater, there were bullet holes and a coat by the door, 

"I see that's not her taste..."He laughed as Judy and Lamar looked at him in confusion. Jerry only sighed as he knew this would drive him mad, 

"Let me guess..."

"Mhmm..."

"Got it."  

Later that night, Cecelia drove to Memphis in a shiny pink Cadillac with custom seats and a note attached. She knew who sent it. Cecelia knew how to get rid of it. She didn't want his gifts. Cecelia was over those days when people bought her affection with gifts. Cecelia knew now that the world was harsh and the only way to love was to watch it burn. 

When Elvis walked onto the lot, he noticed the car burnt up with "No Thanks..." Written on the hood, "Damn it, Jerry, she's driving me insane!" Elvis growled, walking into his office as Jerry followed,

 "E, what's this about..."

"Jerry, I-I have to get her somehow." Elvis sighed,

"Maybe don't set her shit on fire..." Elvis glared at him, 

"I'll get her a ring..." He smirked, "She can't refuse jewelry."

"Whys that." He took a deep breath as Elvis opened his mouth,

"Don't you know anything, diamonds are a girl's best friend."

[imago1603]

Donald Ressler's whump!list

1.3. "Wujing"  punched and slammed his forehead towards glass, bloody bruises on his forehead.

1.4 "The Stewmaker" punched in the back of his head, restrained

1.5 "The Courier" cut himself on his left forearm to protect his cover

1.6 "Gina Zanetakos" got involved into a fight with Gina in a lift, got punched in a face, been suffocated in a chokehold till unconscious, disoriented afterwards, bruises on his face. Saves everyone by risking his life when drives a car with a 'dirty' bomb inside, jumps out of moving vehicle, in pain. 

1.9 "Anslo Garrick" shot, bleeding out, field care, blood transfusion, unconscious

1.10 "Anslo Garrick Conclusion" slapped, tortured, threatened, recovering in hospital 

1.11 "The Good Samaritan" limping for the wound in his leg

1.12 "The Alchemist" still limping 

1.13 "The Cyprus Agency"  hit by car, pain to his leg for a little while 

1.14 "Madeline Pratt" got in a fight capturing a criminal, got hit in a face couple times, no harm

1.15 "The Judge" was caught off guard while looking for a suspect, probably got hit off screen, no visible damage in the next scene 

1.16 "Mako Tanida" threatened by serial killer, attacked, heart broken, nosed in the car, passed out, several bruises on his face. 

1.18 "Milton Bobbit" shot in the chest but fake scene

2.6 "The Mombasa Cartel" kidnapped, drug problem

2.7 "The Scimitar" sedated, unconscious, hospital, car accident, head wound

2.9 "Luther Braxton" suspended from ceiling by chains around the neck, slowly choked

2.10 "Luther Braxton Conclusion" fought for his life, punched, roughly fallen to the ground, bruises on his throat for had been hanged with a chained noose around his neck

2.12  "The Kenyon Family" involved in car accident, bruises on his forehead, got stuck into the car, captured, tied by his feet and dragged by motorcycle

2.21 "Karakurt" involved into an explosion blast, slammed against a car, bruises on his face 

3.2 "Marvin Gerard" involved into a car incident he provolked, fought, bruise on his forehand 

3.3 "Eli Matchett" fought, punched, bloody bruises on his forebrown and chin

3.11 "Mr. Gregory Devry" fallen from a moving truck against a car windshield, a little dazed

4.7 "Dr. Adrian Shaw" pepper sprayed in the face, stingy eyes, no harm

4.19 "Dr. Bogdan Krilov" struck by a stunning bomb and hit his head against the dresser and passed out, bloody cut on his forehead, tied up drugged and memories manipulated, bruise on his hand where drugs were injected 

5.4 "The Endling" hit by explosion blast and slammed towards the wall, dizzy and ears hissing

5.5 "Ilyas Surkov" hit by explosion blast, flew into the air, surprisingly not harmed 

5.10 "The Informant" got slapped by Presscott, ready to surrender to the police for his crime, saved by Red 

5.12 "The Cook" fought, been hit in a face 

5.14 "Mr. Raleigh Sinclair III" close call, almost got shot, criminal missed

6.18 "The Brockton College Killer" fought, punched

6.19 "Rassvet"  fought, punched, no further damage 

7.8 "The Hawaladar" fought, suffocated in a choke hold, can’t get up, coughing. lost consciousness, headache afterwards 

8.3 "16 Ounces" hit by explosion blast, many bloody cuts and treated in hospital, grimacing

8.19 "Balthazar "Bino" Baker" into a car accident and dizzy, shot and under gunpoint, hunted down, grunting and coughing, bleeding and treated on the field with makeshift equipment, panting and grunting, under gunfire, dizzy, unconscious and pale, carried in arms, surgery on the field, laying unconscious on a table with a cannula at his nose, IV and patch stained of blood, tube into his chest 

8.20 "Godwin Page" laying unconscios in recovery in hospital, septicemia, intubated and unconscious, crisis

8.22 "Konets" still in hospital, weak, in pain, checked himself out before full recovery 

9.7 "Between Sleep and Awake" in pain still suffering from chest wound from season 8, car crash, in hospital, pneumothorax, in hospital in wheelchair, drug use, severely beaten, emotional whump, in grief