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cobrakaisb · 3 years

Note

hi bestie! i’ve had this idea for a while, but i haven’t seen it. can you do like a head cannon of what miguel, robby, and eli/hawk would be like as an older brother? it can be totally based off what you think :) thank you <3

of course! sorry it took me a while but i needed to to be perfect. i also added two bonus boys at the end (hope you don’t mind). little note: i wrote this with a fem reader in mind because of the mentions of periods.

Having the Cobra Kai boys as older brothers

miguel:

you and miguel are so close

the age difference does not affect him at all

he is very protective of you before cobra kai

but once he joins cobra kai that over protectiveness 📈📈📈

let’s just say that this kid is bothering you

miguel definitely notices and scares them off

you act annoyed about it, but you’re highkey grateful that he did that

“my brother is the all valley champ so back the fuck off”

you were so excited for him at the all valley

you wore one of his cobra kai shirts and everything

miguel is so supportive of whatever extra curricular you do

karate? yes he stans, theater? you bet he’s at all your shows, dance? you know he’s bringing you some flowers, another sport? he’s at every game cheering for you

miguel knows about periods, and he has no shame in buying you tampons/pads

“hey y/n, i noticed you were running low so i got you some more” 🥺🥺

you wear his hoodies all the time

they are very big on you, but very comfy

you help him with sam

“i punched her in the face” “what why?”

“y/n what do you think about this?” “it looks great miguel. sam will love it”

when he dates tory you're a little on edge about it

“miguel, weren’t you like trying to win sam back two days ago?” “i like tory now” “okayy”

johnny loves you as much as he loves miguel

y’all hang out together

his friends are your friends and vice versa

your friends definitely think that miguel is cute but “eww that’s my brother”

when miguel is in the coma you blame johnny

“he showed mercy because of you! you did this!”

but then you cry into his chest

when miguel wakes up you’re at school

you don’t find out until after school when carmen picks you up

you hug him so tight, rambling about how much you love him

“i love you too y/n now get off me”

you can’t keep up with his love life

“y/n i’m with sam again” “what?”

overall your bond is amazing and you couldn’t ask for a better brother

robby:

you and robby both live with your mother (because we aren’t basic here)

you’re the odd one out (your mom does drugs and robby sells them)

“you got caught with molly? i thought you and sara were hooking up?” “the drug y/n”

when robby starts being friends with those punk kids, the two of you start to drift

you actually go to school, unlike him

“just skip y/n” “no robby”

it isn’t until he gets back on track because of daniel that you two start getting close again

“i’m gonna get back on track y/n i promise” and you believe him

you go to the skatepark with him

he skates while you read or draw or skate (whatever you’re into tbh)

when you’re on your period robby will buy you stuff, but he doesn’t like to

he feels so awkward about it

“um are these the right ones?” “yes thank you”

robby gives the best hugs (idk why he just does)

i feel like robby is also really good at reading emotions

like he knows when you’ve had a bad day at school or when you’re stressed about something

he also knows how to cheer you up :)))

“i know you did not just eat cereal with water???” “and what about it?”

when your mom comes back after being gone for days robby pulls you behind him

because he really doesn’t want you to be exposed to that

you cry into robby’s chest once she leaves

“why can’t she just be our mom?”

when daniel asks robby to move in with him he denies

but quickly explains that he can’t leave you

daniel tells robby that you can come too

“thanks for helping my brother mr.larusso, i really appreciate it”

you definitely walk in on robby and sam making out at some point

“hey robby- oh my god i’m so sorry” slaps hand over eyes and immediately leaves the room

when robby pushes miguel off the balcony it's the first time you’re genuinely scared of him

you visit him in jail, but it takes awhile for you to go

“i’m sorry y/n” “i know robby”

you just understand each other

when robby joins cobra kai he tries to get you in too

you agree to one lesson, and know it’s not for you

you have many arguments about this

“he’s brainwashing you!” “he knows what’s best for me, for us!”

robby feels so betrayed when he finds out you’re staying with johnny

the two of you definitely drift after that, but you find your way back to each other, you always do

eli/hawk:

okay so before he flips the script you defend eli, no matter what

you cry with him about the bullies and definitely try to fight kyler more than once

you wear his sweaters (fight me on it)

you encourage him to do karate

when he flips the script you’re very happy for him he finally feels confident in himself and you love that for him

now the roles are reversed

hawk protects you now

no one even dares to look at you because they are scared of him

i feel like he has a tattoo for you, whether that's your name or your favorite flower idk but he gets one for you

“um wow okay we’re doing that now” “do you like it or not?” “yeah but i wasn’t expecting it”

sometimes he’ll let you pick his hair color “how about purple” “maybe” 😉

he definitely flirts with your friends “hello ladies!” “hi hawk!” “get out!”

you’re the only one that is allowed to call him eli

“eli i need ten dollars?” “for what?” “a snack” *hands over the money*

“eli can i have your sweatshirt? i’m cold” “yeah take it”

“i can’t, me and eli are going to the movies today”

one day you’re sitting with him and his minions (you refuse to call them friends) at lunch

“so eli” -one of the cobra kais “shut the fuck up! you can’t call him that!” -you

hawk has a proud brother moment

anything that you do hawk is like “fuck yeah that’s my sibling!”

his friends are not allowed to look at you, talk to you, have a crush on you, or even think about you

“woah dude she’s hot” “that’s my fucking sister! stay away from her!”

“eli who’s your friend-” “NO!”

as eli he will buy you period products but is very shy about it

as hawk he will not be caught dead in that isle of cvs

“eli i need them!” “i don’t care! i’ll drive you there and you can run in and get them”

when hawk breaks demetri’s arm you don't speak to him for weeks

you confront him about his new behavior

“this is who i am!” “no it’s not! you’re not my brother!”

you’re crying and then storm off to your room

that breaks him

is highkey the start of his redemption

when he’s at the fight at the larusso house, and he sees demetri about to get his arm broken, he thinks of your words: “you're not my brother!”

literally motivates him to fix things

you see hawk and demitri and just know that your brother is back

you hug him so tight

“you were right y/n. i’m sorry” “of course i was. i’m always right” “gee thanks” “love you”

bonus demetri:

he is a nerd, you are a nerd

the two of you watch star wars, marvel, harry potter, etc. together

“daddy anakin” “please shut the fuck up”

you want to punch him in the face because he is so sarcastic

it gets on your nerves

bust out laughing when johnny makes fun of his pi shirt

“stop laughing” “if it’s funny i'm gonna laugh”

even though you’re a nerd you’re cool

like you have a lot of friends in your grade

“demetri if i don’t talk to you at the halloween party that’s why” gestures to his costume

listen to his rants about how eli’s changed

you try to give him advice, but it doesn’t work out

so proud of him when he joins miyagi-do

“i'm glad you’re stepping out of your comfort zone”

demetri tries to get you to join miyagi-do

if you do join great more sibling bonding

if you don’t join no biggie y’all are still besties

y’all go to the comic book store together

its sibling bonding time

you threaten to fight hawk after the laser tag thing

“hey asshole you leave my brother alone!”

you sign his cast first

you definitely write some inside joke that only the two of you understand

you see him kissing yas and do a whole 🤮

“so you dating yas?” “idk why” “just checking”

very obvious about your distaste for her

when him and hawk become friends again you’re very wary

“he broke your arm” “he apologized” “he broke your arm!!!”

eventually you and hawk are on semi decent terms

“demetri forgave you and that’s fine but i’m still not over it”

your relationship = the perfect mix of love and teasing

bonus bonus king bert 🙌🏻:

you are older than him by like a year

but you’re still besties for life

you’re very proud of him when he joins cobra kai

“im joining a karate dojo” “period pop off”

you always ruffle his hair

cheer for him at the all valley

“yeah bert!”

but also like you can’t watch

when he gets eliminated you cringe

he’s sad about it

“i just wanted to impress you” “im very impressed bert, you did great”

your opinion matters so much to him

he’s such a small cinnamon roll 🥺🥺

seeing him with the older cobra kai boys makes you soft

“y/n i’m going out with hawk and miguel can you drive me?”

bert admires you a lot, like you are his hero

y’all are the best sibling duo and that’s on period

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #miguel diaz #miguel diaz x reader #miguel diaz cobra kai #hawk cobra kai #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk x reader #robby keene #robby keene x reader #robby keene cobra kai #demetri #demetri x reader #king bert #bert x reader

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laurelleghuleh · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, one-shot

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.7k

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧: Ao3, Wattpad

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: post-time skip, aged-up characters, implied/referenced sex, sensitive topics(?)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is a kind of “interactive” one-shot. At some point, you’ll find the link for the playlist I’ve created for the story. It’s not mandatory, of course. The songs are mentioned and their lyrics are quoted anyways.

I tried to keep the reader as gender-neutral as possible, I hope it works.

To be honest, I wrote the first half of this one-shot at 3 am after a very deep conversation with a friend of mine about struggling with self-love as “young adults”. It wasn’t meant to be public but I felt like sharing it. I hope this will help or at least cheer you up as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Lastly, italics when Daichi sings/for the lyrics and English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

Thanks for reading this, Laurelle.

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

Taxes, laundry, rent, bills, grocery shopping, bank accounts, job interviews. These were just some of the things whose thought alone made you already shiver. Adulthood and the multiple responsibilities that had come with it scared the shit out of you, at times it completely fucked up your sleep schedule, and put your sanity at stake, but at least you weren’t alone in this. At least, you had Daichi.

You two had faced college together, one at each other’s side, and now you were again together in that new chapter of your life called adulthood.

By then, you two had been living in that little, yet cozy apartment for a few months. The Karasuno team had lent you a hand by making the move less hard, unpacking boxes and decorating the empty shelves with an unnecessary amount of frames, random objects, and souvenirs from their trips. All of this as Daichi was training at your hometown’s Police Department and as you were trying to find your place in the world, between part-time jobs and “real” job interviews.

The new routine was dull, draining, at times even overwhelming. The closer you were getting to make your dream life come true, the more your daily life felt like a nightmare. The more you felt tired, unmotivated, ultimately empty. And you couldn't help but wonder if that was really worth it anymore.

You started to slowly give up on your hobbies and passions, to spend your free time on the new couch, just spacing out, and to eventually forget about yourself. You didn’t want to sound too pathetic but life seemed to have lost its flavor. At that point, it just tasted like disinfectants and instant noodles.

Those fucking instant noodles … You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror that evening. None of your planned outfits for that night fitted anymore, none, and at the sudden realization, that familiar smell of instant noodles rose inside your nostrils. But instant noodles weren’t really the point. Your outfits not fitting anymore wasn’t the point either. That you in that mirror was the point. That stranger. That empty shell.

The familiar boomy sound of keys twisting inside the front door’s lock, a click, and Daichi was finally home.

“I’m baaack” You heard him say - almost yell - and then saw him coming inside the kitchen to greet you.

“May I have a kiss?” He shyly asked, placing his hand on the small of your back, drawing little circles to get your attention.

“Sure,” You turned your head for a quick, soft peck on his lips, then got back to your chore.

“Still in your PJs, babe?” He commented, his voice small, clearly weakened by his long, draining day at work.

By that time, you were supposed to be ready to head out, but something in the process went wrong. On the other side of the city, a nice restaurant - highly suggested by Michimiya sometime before - was waiting for you and Daichi to arrive in twenty minutes.

“Yeah… I have to finish cooking these for tomorrow before we head out…” You murmured as your words fell down to the pot beneath you.

That wasn’t a lie, but in all fairness, you were only trying to avoid the truth. Little did you know you were about to experience what living with a future detective really meant.

Besides his professional deformation, when it came to you, Daichi never failed to sense when something was off. Even just from a slight change of your tone. He was so used to your voice that the most insignificant variation of its sound seemed to conceal a tiny, secret message only for him to decipher.

Anyways, you kept looking down, your mind somewhere else, your eyes still lost in the little fog coming from the pot. You still didn’t dare to look at him, which was rather unusual. Strange. Kind of suspicious.

Daichi rocked his head in your direction, trying to find other tangible clues for that particular case he wasn’t expecting to face once at home. Yet nothing was really out of place, except that gloomy aura all around you. Therefore, he decided to just play it cool for the moment and let you be.

Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The only thing that really mattered was that night to be perfect for both of you.

It wasn’t a special occasion or else, just Daichi’s first free evening after a whole month of night shifts. And in addition to that, that dinner had been meticulously planned the previous week. Nothing could have ruined it. Nothing.

Yeah, he was just being paranoid, for sure. Nothing to worry about.

Daichi moved away from you and walked towards the front door again. Then, he plugged his phone on the little speaker at the entrance and played the playlist you two loved to blast whenever you were at home, cleaning the house, or just swinging from a room to another.

And that was when everything got even more suspicious in Daichi’s perspective.

The first song came on (“Come Through and Chill” by Miguel, J.Cole, Salaam Remi ), the little bass drums slowly filling the room, vibrating from wall to wall, gradually reaching your feet through that old wooden pavement. And yet, you stayed completely still.

Suspicious .

“Everything ok?” He casually asked you from a distance, putting the phone back down on top of the speaker.

“Yeah, good, good. You?” You mumbled, trying to hide your words under the rhythm.

Even more suspicious .

It wasn’t only your voice, but your posture, your face, just your aura that seemed so… Different. Even though you two hadn’t been living together for long at that point, he could simply tell what looked ordinary and what not. You knew each other and dated since college, which at that point meant years of studying the other up close, not only as partners but firstly - and mainly - as friends. Two best friends always looking out for one another. Those had been years of sincere trust and affection.

Funny thing was that neither of you could imagine that a casual encounter in a cafè would have taken that turn. But Suga knew. And Asahi too. Everybody knew, except you two.

One morning, the vending machine of your department was out of order, and that was just the tenth curveball of that day. It’s not even thirty past eight and I already want to go back to sleep , you sighed, walking outside the campus, looking for a cafè or something.

As fate would have it, the tiny, little-known coffee shop you found right behind the corner was Asahi’s workplace, which brought both Suga and Daichi to have their breakfast there every single morning.

Your first time there, your order was mistaken with Daichi’s, one thing led to another, and after a while, you two started hanging out frequently. Then even more consistently. Then no Asahi or Suga around. No coffee shop. Study sessions at his place. Then at your place. A movie night that actually looked and felt like a proper date. And eventually, that friendship blossomed into something else, something pretty serious.

You didn’t even realize when or how that happened, it just felt right. You two didn’t even have a real “date” for when your relationship had begun. For the sake of simplicity, you both used to count from your first kiss, both aware that whatever you two shared had started even before that, even that morning in that tiny, little-known coffee shop.

That was the type of love that comes easily, without warning, silently tiptoeing into your life.

Back in your apartment, once freed from his jacket, Daichi made again his appearance at your side, now wearing a playful look and about to hit his favorite line of the lyrics. He almost made you startle.

“Hello, stranger… It's been a minute since we last kicked it” He sang and swung around you, positioning himself right behind you to wrap you in a warm hug. Then, gingerly nestling his head in the curve of your neck, he breathed against your skin, “Now that I’m home, I’m all good… ”

Bear hugs were Daichi’s thing and also your not-so-secret Achilles’ heel, for sure. So, you just leaned in his embrace and welcomed his familiar, calming scent. But still, you didn’t have the courage to face him.

Very, very suspicious .

Your oddly detached behaviors made his brow pinch and his mind wander as he left soft pecks all over your jaw and neck. No reaction , Daichi thought, taking mental notes of your actions.

At that point, he gave you one last, gentle kiss, this time on your shoulder, right where the hem of your shirt met your skin, and then silently made a step back. Daichi’s first thought was to temporarily let you be. A quick shower and a change of clothes were very much needed after that long day. He thought he still got time to unravel your mood.

Still focused on the pot, you heard him tell you, before disappearing in your bedroom, “I’ve been thinking about tonight all day, love. I literally can’t wait to try this restaurant!”

You felt a knot in your stomach.

Why was it so hard for you to simply tell him? To simply put into words how you felt? You knew he would have understood, you knew how sensitive Daichi was, especially when it came to you. But to look so needy, so lost in his eyes made you feel just weak. Not vulnerable, not emotional, just a weak person in need. And the last thing you wanted was to look or feel like a burden to Daichi. You knew how stressed and overworked he was. That was a pretty tough period for you both and you felt like you had no right to complain. Daichi never did, and all you wanted was to be as strong as he was.

It didn’t take much for Daichi to be ready, all cleaned up and dressed for the occasion. Nothing too elegant or pretentious, he was a very casual type of guy even when it came to clothes, but that was still your night. A little more effort won’t hurt , he thought as he picked his outfit, preferring a classic, white, button-up shirt to his favorite sweater - his safe choice whenever he didn’t know what to wear.

He just wanted to look good that night, to look good for your eyes only.

Right when “Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee started, Daichi’s unmistakable cologne stood above the food’s thick smell coming from the pot. You immediately turned around.

He looked handsome, as always. The view made your belly twitch again.

“Hey hon, remember that time we went to see Spiderman with Suga, Asahi, and Kyoko?” He started to speak, crossing the room with slow strides in your direction.

“You fell in love with this song on the spot. Oh my god, I think you blasted it in the car at least ten times on our way back...” He said wrapping his arms around your waist again, making you turn and trying to initiate a slow dance with you.

“I know you’re scared of the unknown, you don’t wanna be alone” He sang, “I know I always come and go,” The lyrics hitting way too close to home, “But it’s out of my control”

At that point, he held you tight, roaming his big, callous hands all over your back as he glanced at the pot from above your shoulder.

“That looks delicious, babe. Can’t wait to eat it tomorrow. I just know it tastes as good as it looks…”

There he was again, being all supportive and loving no matter what. So damn cheesy, he could have made someone sick. But not you.

You weren’t much of a chef yourself and you knew it, but you tried your best. And Daichi appreciated it a lot. He was so proud of you, always so blindly proud. He was undoubtedly a better chef than you were, but he still left you space to experiment and try out new things.

You never thought you could enjoy cooking that much, but probably Daichi being a foodie played a role in that. A foodie, well, possibly the biggest foodie you knew. The thought alone of food could make him insane, let’s say slightly irrational like he wasn’t functioning normally.

That was at the beginning when you both had all the time in the world to even plan a food competition and invite all your friends over to eat and vote for your plates. In the beginning, when that apartment’s walls were still white and bare, when the only furniture you owned was an old red couch and several boxes with all your things still packed inside. In the beginning, when there were way fewer things to care about in your daily routine.

“It’s ready, I guess. I should turn off the stove… ” You mumbled against his chest, then turned around still sweetly trapped in his embrace.

“Then you’re left in the dust… mhmhIdon’trememberthewordsmm” He kept singing behind your back, “ You’re the sunflower, I think your love would be too-”

When the little flame disappeared under the pot, a sharp sigh accidentally left your mouth.

“Daichi…” You breathed, squeezing his right hand still gently pressed on your belly.

Daichi .

You rarely called him by his first name. You’d usually go with “love” or “babe” or whatever sweet name came into your mind at that specific moment. Daichi . “Daichi” was something like a safeword, a code for “I’m dead serious right now”, “Your mum is calling” or, like this time, “Something is wrong”.

At that signal, the Karasuno’s former captain knew exactly what to do as if a ball had just flown past an invisible volleyball net right in front of him. That was just the confirmation he needed to make his move.

Living together, making a long-term relationship works, sticking together regardless, all of these for you both were based on the little things you started to learn about one another. Most of the time failing but never giving up on the other person. And this, this was one of those “little things”.

Daichi .

Wordlessly, he went straight to his phone and turned down the music at its lowest, the songs just a light, almost unperceivable background. You turned in his direction, watching him attentively, in silence, until he beckoned you to follow him.

You did as told and walked with him towards the living room, where he guided you to sit on the couch, your right hand gently secured in his.

He sat down on his heels, right in front of you, and waited, waited for you to say something, giving you all the time you needed to process your thoughts.

Minutes passed, the music still softly playing in the background.

Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me

You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

Tell me what I'm waitin' for

I know it's hard but we need each other

(“SUGAR” by BROCKHAMPTON)

When you lifted your gaze to meet his sweet eyes, like two big, dark chocolate nuggets, you still didn’t know what to say. Automatically, his lips parted to catch your attention.

“Love,” His voice so tender it literally broke your heart to keep that facade any longer.

Your lips puckered, your nostrils widened, your eyes got unexpectedly watery until the first of many tears started to run down your face. When your head fell forwards, hiding between your hands, Daichi immediately got you. His arms circled your frame, welcoming you against his chest as you kept weeping noisily.

Daichi stayed silent, his head pressed against your shoulder, moving in sync with each of your sobs.

“Let it out, babe, don’t hold it back.”

At those words, your weeps only seemed to get worse to the point you didn’t know anymore why you were crying in the first place. Maybe you just needed to let it out, to rest, and let yourself get lost in Daichi’s embrace. His warmth felt like home and it was so comforting that after a while you finally cooled down. Nothing was wrong anymore, you were safe and sound.

“When you’re ready, I’m here to listen.” He whispered.

You nodded against his skin, then drew back, revealing your puffed and reddish face. He immediately stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Once back, he kneeled again in front of you and handed you tissues and a glass of water.

“Thanks,” You murmured and then blew your nose.

Daichi just stared at you, his eyes wandering all over your figure as you shrugged and sighed. You opened your mouth only to close it a second later. You didn’t even know where to start. Your bottom lip quivered, you felt like you’re about to cry again.

“What’s going on, love?” His voice small and tender.

You sighed again and gave a quick look to the clock behind him. It was almost time to leave. Actually, at that point, you were already late. Your eyes found his again and a thought occurred to you. He looked so happy until a moment before, singing and dancing, all dressed up, ready to leave and try that restaurant. But now there he was, all worried for you, down on his knees, not caring if that position was messing and creasing his shirt.

“It’s really nothing. Just had a bad day. I should go get-” You tried to stand up, but Daichi’s hands stopped you right there, pinning you down again.

“Are you sure, that’s just it?”

You couldn’t physically bring yourself to lie to Daichi. Not even for the smallest things. Not even for a white lie.

“To be honest, I don’t really feel like going out tonight…”

His eyebrows twitched. First clue unlocked.

“That’s fine. Let me just give them a call-”

“No, no. There’s no need. We should go anyway. It’s really nothing.”

Daichi was never really fond of you being difficult, he’d rather prefer you being straightforward. But sometimes, your pride overtook you. Nevertheless, that was not the right time to point out you were being too stubborn, so he just reassured you, saying,

“Listen, it’s up to you, babe. Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

Daichi was always so kind. From time to time, you even believed he was way too good for you. Too good, it’s almost unfair , you thought.

“Really, it’s nothing… I’ve been thinking about tonight all day too. I couldn’t wait to finally spend some time with you…”

He giggled, your sweet tone instantly reassured him, “You know we can always stay at home and just watch a movie, right? Just tell me if you don’t feel like going out and I’ll call the restaurant right away.”

“Well, it’s not that… I… I…” You sighed. You really were being too difficult that time. “To be honest, I don’t know what-” Your voice cracked, “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daichi leaned closer and kissed your forehead, then stood up and grabbed his phone. From a distance you clearly heard him talk to someone, apologizing and saying something else you didn’t quite catch. The restaurant , you thought. You instantly walked towards him and tried to oppose, but Daichi politely hushed you and just hung up.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“Cause it seems like you can’t decide right now. The restaurant can wait, really, but whatever is going on with you cannot. And now, if you want to tell me more about it I’m here, if not I’ll just let you be, or if-”

You grabbed his hands, stopping him. Your head swung from side to side as you collected your thoughts.

“It’s just that… I don’t know where to start.” You said and plopped yourself down on the couch.

He softly asked you when that started, if you remembered what little event had possibly triggered your current mood, and suddenly the right words found their way out of your mouth.

It had just been one of those everything-goes-wrong kinds of days, no rest, and too many things to do that eventually you found yourself already in front of the closet without even realizing it. Your eyes were drained and unfocused after all those hours in front of your laptop, working, sending emails, and stuff like that. Your stomach was aching and bloating after eating the previous night’s leftovers. Your legs were sore. Your mind was blank, empty, and at the same time also full of imprecise thoughts about work, what you needed to do before heading out, the dinner, the clothes, that mirror right in front of you.

You described to him this confused overwhelming sensation you had been experiencing for the previous months and all along Daichi was carefully listening to you, nodding and humming. From time to time he tried to comfort you, saying that it was quite understandable since you both started a new, complicated chapter of your lives since there were so many things to be settled and done, etc. He even apologized if he had accidentally neglected you in some way. He was so stressed and focused on work, he barely noticed what was going on with you. But you didn’t seem to listen to his words. Every single time you just replied with the same anxious thoughts you had already said before.

At some point, Daichi interrupted you, saying, “Babe, look at me and be honest,” then grabbed your hands and looked straight into your still reddish eyes, “Do you want me to listen … Or do you want some advice ?”

That was a thing Daichi had learned with time, not only from you but also from his experience as a captain. Sometimes people just need to vent, some other times to be taken by the hand and helped, but there are also other times when people may even need both.

You sighed. “Both I guess?”

He hummed and kept listening at other incoherent stuff you mumbled next about yourself, your image, your perception of yourself, “And that damn outfit! I’ve been thinking about it all day! It was my only option and it didn’t work! I looked terrible, I could barely stand my reflection in the mirror… Why do I have to feel so miserable about a damn outfit?! And then I put my PJ back on and I thought I looked like a fucking cartoon! I wanted to hide under a blanket and just disappear… I must sound delusional right now…”

New clues unlocked.

“No, absolutely, you’re not delusional, love. But... Let me ask you this. What is really bothering you? How you look or how you feel ?”

You tilted your head and pondered his question. At that moment you realized you had never thought about it that way before. How I look or how I feel… , you kept thinking for a while.

However, you still weren’t able to unravel that truth, therefore you just kept rumbling about those stupid clothes not fitting you anymore for another solid couple of minutes.

Daichi chuckled.

“That just means you need to do more shopping, babe,” He pointed out and leaned in to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle as his kisses alternated with random names of your favorite shops where you two could have gone to the next day to buy something. But eventually, you lightly pushed him away, not because you really wanted to but... Something wasn’t still quite right and you didn’t know what it was. That made you feel ultimately uneasy.

Daichi drew back on his heels, his hands still on your sides, sweetly caressing your hips. He stayed there and just contemplated you as your mind spun around and other vague thoughts piled up in your head.

“So, is there something else?” He softly asked.

“I guess so… It’s not about the clothes. I think it’s me. I look so different and I feel so different, I can barely recognize myself.”

“Love, you have so many things to do, I know it’s hard to find time for you to eat clean or be active. Maybe I should propose less pizza and stuff—”

“No, no, babe, it’s not you... I just feel awful about myself.”

“You feel , but you’re definitely not. I guarantee you that.” Daichi immediately comforted you.

“You know the saying, love is blind…” You tried to joke around.

“It sure is. I could love you with my eyes closed, but even with my eyes wide open, I can’t see anything wrong with you.”

Daichi’s love confessions were sappy at their core, but his voice was always so direct and honest they always sounded like facts. And they never failed to catch you off guard. Daichi used to be shy and awkward in the beginning of your relationship. He was constantly blushing hard and messing with his sentences whenever it came to talk to you. However, with time, his affection and ways started to be so sincere and straightforward you didn’t even know how to contradict him or how to even say anything back.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes…” His tone suddenly painted with melancholy, “Then you could see how beautiful you are, how precious, how…” He felt it too. He felt he was getting too emotional, so he tried to take the edge off, coming back to his goofy side. “No, no. Rewind. You might end up dumping me. Nah nah, not gonna happen!” He muffled, hiding his head against your belly, curling up with his torso over your lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You loved him so much.

“Jokes aside,” He said, lifting his head and looking up at you. “Tell me, babe, is this really such a big deal? Because if it bothers you to this point, you should think about it more carefully... Can I help you in some way?”

“Honestly, I-I don’t know how you could help me,” You confessed, “I feel like I’m not taking care of myself, but I also lack motivation to actually do something about it. It’s a dog chasing its own tail, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it… Well, I could encourage you, first. But then I could also help you and try to do things with you, like…” He thought about it for a couple of seconds. “What if I call Tanaka? He's a personal trainer but he also knows a lot about nutrition. He may suggest something delicious but fast and healthy for us to cook. It could be beneficial for both of us. We have been literally eating our stress away recently. You know what, I feel bloated too…” Daichi added and then proceeded to touch his tummy.

You lightly pushed him again and started to shower him with compliments. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that Daichi could ever possibly be insecure about himself. He was… Daichi. He was just perfect.

He smirked at your reaction and got closer to shut your mouth with a sudden, deep kiss.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, just an inch away from your lips.

“Sure, what is it?” You said almost laughing. A secret?

“Ok, look at my pants,” Daichi said, drawing back until he stood up, right in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m looking at them and they look really good on you-” You started to say and tried to make him spin around to point out how good he looked in those dark pants. That was actually your favorite pair, you loved the way they highlighted his muscular legs, how- But he stopped you right there.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok, thanks, but have you noticed that I’m not wearing any belt? And actually haven’t worn one in a while?”

You frowned. Where is he getting at?

“And you know why? I don’t really need one anymore. These pants stay up regardless,” Daichi confessed, giggling, “What I mean is… Look, you still like how they fit me. I still like how they fit me. I just know that you would like them even in another size. I would like them as well.”

You just stared at him, quietly pondering his words.

“Anyways, the pants are not the real point. These are just pants. Those things that didn’t fit you aren’t the real point either. You see what I’m trying to tell you?”

You did. You got what he meant, but you were still doubting yourself somehow. Because, in your mind, not fitting your old clothes was just the result of something that slipped out of your hands as you struggled to take care of anything else, except yourself. It wasn’t about your weight or the clothes, it was about losing track of yourself in the process.

“You think I’m perfect while I may, well, I am certainly not. Same goes for you. None of us is perfect, never been, never will. We are just us,” He got closer and sweetly brushed your hair behind your ears, “But for me, in my eyes, you are. And apparently, I’m too in yours. And that’s all that matters.”

Again, just straight facts.

Also, whenever he gave you one of his motivational speeches, he really looked like a captain. You could vividly picture the scene in your head, his teammates carefully listening to him, hanging off his words, right before an important match or even just a regular training session.

“I know it’s extremely cheesy to hear, but it’s also the truth. You’re perfect just the way you are and you’ll always be to me…” His voice small as he kneeled again in front of you. “Even now. Even if you feel lost. The you you’re looking for is still there, it’s not going anywhere. You just need some time and patience to find yourself again.”

You immediately cupped his face, about to tell him something, but before you could spell a single word, he whispered,

“But… But if this is a problem, something you want to change or improve, something you need some help with, then let’s do it, let’s do it together. No. Better. Let’s do it right now!”

Daichi immediately stood up and ran back to the kitchen, where you used to keep your little notebook. Once back, armed with a pen and unmovable willpower, he sat down again and opened the agenda on your lap. Going through your schedule, he noticed how packed it was, pages and pages filled with appointments and notes, but that didn’t scare him.

“Mmm… So, here’s the plan. Our lunch breaks on Monday and Friday look pretty long. We could… Meet at the park. You know, the one right after the supermarket, down the street-”

You nodded, showing him you were following him.

“We could jog a little and then eat something together! That way we’d see each other, have some fun and do something good for our health too… I know jogging doesn’t actually sound much fun, but I swear we’ll have a good time, babe. What do you think?”

Your lips curled upwards into a soft, little half-moon. You couldn’t say no to that.

“Sounds like a plan…” You simply commented.

He looked relieved and then added, “Also, remember that lunch at my mum’s next Sunday? Why don’t we just skip it and go somewhere fancy, like a spa-”

“But we promised-” You tried to object.

“Babe, I know, I know, but we can go some other time. She’ll understand.”

“Okay…”

“It’ll be beneficial for both of us, for real. To be honest, I think I’m this close to a breakdown too,” He laughed.

“You’re right, we should definitely go… You know, I was also thinking about joining some sort of club. I feel like I don't have a hobby or a passion anymore. It’s always work, work, work, the apartment, work, work, work. I feel so… Arid? Mentally. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah… Me too, I was thinking the same exact thing this morning actually… Maybe I should join a volleyball team again. Nothing serious but like a team to play with, just once in a while-”

Your eyes widened, “Oh God! Yes! Absolutely! You should definitely do that, love!”

Daichi nervously chuckled. He wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic and energetic reaction from you, not after having seen you so blue and distant since he had come back home.

You loved seeing him playing volleyball. You still remembered vividly the times you used to sneak a peek at his practice and matches during college. The first time you saw him playing, all sweat and absorbed in the game, you did a double-take. He looked so hot.

“Alrighty, I’ll definitely think about it… Don’t worry, love, we’ll figure something out.”

“As we always did…” You added, shyly smiling at him.

That situation made you wonder. Life could be hard at times, but if you had the right people around you to rely on, to fight with, or simply talk to, it didn’t seem like that tough anymore.

“Yeah…” He smiled back and instinctively leaned forward to hug you tightly as you welcomed his frame against your chest.

After a few silent minutes, you muffled against his shoulder, “Thank you… I don’t even know how to tell you how thankful I am right now… ”

And in all fairness, there wasn’t much else to add.

“You could start by being less hard on yourself, love,” Daichi said, still pressed against you, “You’re doing so great…”

“You’re way too good to me.” You murmured back, your voice slightly above a whisper.

At your words, he brushed his head from side to side against your shoulder, silently disagreeing with your affirmation. He was just as good to you as you deserved.

Right at that moment, “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar and H.E.R. came on and Daichi thought that there couldn't have been a better time than that for that specific song to start.

He drew back from your hug and guided you to stand up with him, then walked backward to reach the center of the living room, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Siri, turn up the volume!” He ordered his phone to do as he took you in his arms.

You simply stared at him and followed his actions, like a puppet under his spell. His arms welcomed your figure and your fingers locked, your two bodies perfectly molded one against the other as you slow-danced to the rhythm, allowing yourself to utterly enjoy that moment.

A strange feeling warmed your belly, like an overwhelming wave of happiness was overtaking all your senses. Your mouth instinctively opened to shower Daichi with random compliments, words of gratitude, and all sorts of sweet nothings. He loved to be praised by you but after a while he tried to playfully hush you, holding you even tighter and whispered next to your ear a line of that song that seemed to be written right for you. Better, right for him to sing it for you.

“I just wanna see how beautiful you are, you know that I see it, I know you're a star. Where you go I follow, no matter how far. If life is a movie, oh you're the best part…”

The music eventually faded and an hour later you and Daichi were once again in your bed, curled up in your sheets, as you leafed through Netflix’s catalog, fruitlessly. In the end, you just end up cuddling and ultimately dozing off. Nothing special had happened that night, but you felt so restored, at peace, as if everything was completely fine again.

When you woke up the morning after, Daichi was already gone. You were used to this too. No night shifts meant early shifts. But this also had its perks, like the tiny heart-shaped post-it notes he liked to leave in the bathroom for you to read them as you washed your face or brushed your teeth. The breakfast? Ready on the kitchen counter, another post-it note on top of it. And then another one, on the front door, “I can’t wait to see you at lunch <3”

At noon, you two met up at the park as planned. A little warm-up under Daichi’s careful instructions and then you were ready to start. Just a casual jog, nothing too demanding, as you enjoyed the fresh air and the good company of that day.

During the whole run, Daichi kept encouraging you like a real captain and a loyal partner would do, saying that you were doing great, that you looked very good in those leggings, that you were half done at that point, and then that you could do it, you were almost at the end at that point.

“The last lap, babe! We’re almost done!” Daichi shouted, turned his head in your direction, and gave you a wide, shining smile.

“I-I think I’m done for today…” You panted as you struggled to keep up with his pace.

“Six more minutes and we’re done! C’mon! Don’t give up!” He incited but you soon waved the white flag, signaling him your surrender.

Daichi halted and got closer to you. A strange, gloomy aura suddenly spread all around him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face right when he whispered, an inch away from your sweaty face,

“Quitters don’t get their prize, you know that?”

Your breath almost failed you, when you told him, “Yeah, yeah, you can eat my lunch, I don’t want it anymore…”

But apparently, Daichi had another prize in his mind, another type of meal .

“Mmmh, that’s not the reward I was planning to give you…” His voice sounded dangerously seductive for the location you two were at the moment. Your eyes widened at the sudden realization.

His hands slowly roamed from your hands to your shoulders, then cupped your cheeks. His tone got back to normal when he playfully squeezed your face and said, “Six minutes!”

Six minutes passed and the jog was finally over. A little picnic at the park, a quick shower together at home, and then you were good to go. Your afternoon’s tasks awaited you.

That evening Tanaka and Kyoko joined you for dinner. They were both more than happy to give you some advice, to recommend easy and healthy recipes, and to see how the apartment had changed since their last visit.

Later that night, you and Daichi were again in your bed, tired but definitely satisfied. Your back was pressed against his broad chest, your body secured in his warm embrace, your thoughts were quiet, both your body and mind at peace.

You had worked, you had jogged, you had had some fun with Daichi at the park, you had also found some time to finish that book you had forgotten on your desk. Well, actually, Daichi had been texting you during the whole afternoon to remind you to take some breaks from time to time, to have a snack or read something. The dinner with Tanaka and Kyoko had cheered you up more than planned and that full, yet satisfying day was finally over.

You were still lost in your thoughts when you felt Daichi snuggle up, holding you even tighter than before. His left arm was wrapped around your figure while the right one was on top of yours, his fingers gently rubbing your hand, then your wrist and forearm, drawing imaginary patterns all over your skin. As he got closer, ultimately closing that tiny gap between you two, his head found the crook of your neck and gently nestled in it. Then he asked you, his voice hoarse with weariness,

“So? About the jog, did you like it?”

“Weeeell, let’s say that I liked it but mainly because we did it together.” You confessed, “Would I do it alone? I don’t know… Maybe?”

“Fair enough,” He replied and placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder, his fingers still loosely tracing your arm. Then there was silence, the room was from time to time filled only with the muffled sound of those soft pecks he kept on leaving on your skin.

“You know,” Daichi whispered at some point, between a kiss and another, “Jogging is not the only option…” He paused to clear his throat, “There are other types of activities that we could do…” Another kiss, his breath warm against your neck, his tone husky with desire when he added, “That we could do indoor…”

#daichi x you #daichi x reader #daichi headcanon #daichi sawamura #daddy daichi #haikyuu oneshot #one shot #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #spotify #i wrote this at 3am #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #fluff

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

LIGHT IT UP

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Anon asked: What about rough sex with Nestor in Miguel’s house? He makes you stay quiet and fucks you in the bathroom because he couldn’t wait to get you homeee ahhhh i love nestor

Word Count: 1.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Taking a last look in the mirror, turning on the high-heels, you sigh. You're pretty nervous 'cause finally Nestor is gonna introduce you to his boss, and also his best friend, Miguel. You want to make a good impression and you're not sure about the dress you chose, but you don't have time to change your outfit. So, going downstairs with shaky hands, you find your boyfriend waiting for you at the hall. He looks at you from top to down. Hundred times. You're doubting.

“What? Is that bad?” You ask with trembling voice.

Looking down and moving the skirt, you raise your gaze at him. The golden and sparkle dress is falling on you like a cascade with a pronounced neckline and bare back, with your long and curly hair place on it. You know it was a bad idea dressing something like that, but guessing that being Miguel's birthday the assistant should be ‘important’ people. Nestor doesn't say anything, till you're about to talk.

“You're fuckin' stunning”. He says walking towards you, holding and lifting one of your hand to make you go a full turn. “You're fuckin' beautiful, baby”.

His words makes you smile, leaning closer to kiss him softly. Offering you an arm, and taking it, he guides you to the car opening you the door. Even if he does what he does, when you two are together his attitude changes completely. You have seen him working, more or less, escorting Miguel's wife or his mother, and he looks so serious that sometimes surprises you when he laughs watching some tv-show with you lying on the sofa.

Placing one hand on your leg, Nestor drives to the luxurious house of the boss Cartel, knowing the road by heart. Some music is playing in the car, trying to focus your mind on the lyrics, so you don't think about Miguel believing you're not enough for his brother.

“He will loves you”. He says, staring at you for a second. “And if he doesn't do, I love you and that's all it matters”.

You nod biting your inner lip, before licking it feeling somewhat relaxed, putting a hand on his nape to leave some caresses. You love him too, since the first moment you met. And your parents do too. They're delighted with Nestor.

Some minutes after, you finally arrive to the house, decorated according to the celebration, with a lot of people reunited at the entrance next to their own cars. Porsche, Maserati, BMW (...). God, you're enjoying the views as the good mechanic you are. It's like if you were a child on a candy store. Your boyfriend parks next to a black Cadillac, walking faster to your door so he can helps you to go out of it. Then he guides you to the front door, being greeted by some men, recognizing them as politician. Shit, your legs are shaking.

“Brother!” Miguel walks towards you, hugging him and palming his back very lively.

“Are you already drunk, Mikey?” He laughs loud, infesting the older.

“No, not yet!” He shakes his head before turning to you. “Man, you won the lottery or something like, ah? Miguel Galindo, a pleasure”.

The boss Cartel holds your hand, pressing his lips on the back.

“Finally we meet”. He says then.

“Yeah, ahm... (Y/N), a pleasure too. Nestor talks a lot about you”. You reply with a kindly smile on your lips.

“I hope only good things”.

“I actually told her you're a pain in the ass”.

“My father used to say the same, but here I am!” He laughs. And you're sure he's a little drunk. “Let's have a drink. I'm gonna introduce you to my lovely wife”.

You nod whilst Nestor tangles your fingers with yours, leaving a kiss on your cheek. It isn't that bad as you thought. Till a blonde woman hugs your man so dearly that makes you feel jealous. Just a little.

“Hi! I'm Emily!” Now, you feel stupid when she hugs you too so happy to meet you. “So you're the one who stole Nestor' heart... I understand him”.

“Yes, more or less”. You chuckles, supporting your temple against his shoulder for a second.

“She's my wife”. Miguel says then, giving her a gently kiss.

“Come with me, it's kinda boring when they talk about business, even if they're not working”. Poisoned words covered by a friendly smile.

The woman grabs your hand, saying ‘bye’ with the other whilst she walks towards the swimming pool outside, having a seat on the garden sofa. Your gaze is traveling all around the place, really surprised about how huge the house is. You're sure you could get lost inside it. Miguel's wife serves you a glass of red wine, offering it with a smile.

“I was lookin' forward to meet you”. She says then.

“Yeah, me too. Nestor talks about you sometimes and I think we're similar”.

“Right? I told him!” You can't help but laugh cheering with both wines.

“It's good to have someone with I can complain about him”. Emily nods and laugh again because of your words.

“Yes... I feel you. Sometimes Miguel drives me crazy and not in the way I would enjoy it”. She says rolling his eyes and rubbing his forearm. “By the way, your dress is amazing. Where did you buy it?”

“Oh, ahm... My mom did it. It's her job”. You answer looking down for a second, before have a sip of the wine. “Don't you... think is ‘too much’? I was nervous about meeting ‘Nestor brother’”.

“What? Oh, no, no. It's perfect. And about my husband, you don't have to worry about. He gives an impression that it really is not”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You're not sure how much time has passed by, nor how much wine you have drunk talking with Emily between laughs and complainings, when both men going outside have a seat next to you two.

“Having fun, uh?” Miguel asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep”. You nod, looking at your boyfriend with a goofy smile.

“I need to talk' you”. He whispers on your ear, making feel nervous from nowhere. He looks serious and it's not a good omen.

So, leaving your glass on the table and getting up holding his arm, you say goodbye for a few minutes. Crossing the big door to inside, you walk through the assistants worried and thinking that maybe Miguel said something about you. Now, you're about to cry making your own guesses in silence. Going upstairs, Nestor opens the door of a bathroom letting you come in.

“It's... everything ok? I'm sorry if I said som—”.

Before you're allowed to finish the sentence, he kisses you. You breathe heavy surrounding his neck with both arms, while he pushes you to the counter lifting you on.

“You scared me, asshole...” You grumble against his mouth.

“Yea', I know, it was kinda fun...” He laughs raising the skirt of your dress, nailing his hands tightly on your skin, touring your thighs till he finds the waistband of your panties.

“Nestor, they will hear us”. You try to say, with your hands moving faster to unzip the black pants of the suit.

“That's the game, babe. You have to be silent”. You know you can't. Not with him. Your boyfriend knows every weak point of your body, and how to push you to the sky. “Shit... It's 'cause you look so fuckin' hot I can't control myself”.

His lips travel to your neck, biting and sucking your skin being careful to not draw any bruise on it. You know how passionate he can be sometimes, and you always enjoy it, but you're ashamed of thinking that someone could hear you. He doesn't care. Not at all. And he's pretty hard when he spreads your legs to place his body into them.

“Let's see if you can be silent”. Nestor says challenging you with his gaze, pounding you with all his strength.

You're faster, covering your mouth with a hand and closing hard your eyes, containing a loud moan. You wrap his waist with both legs, pushing him deeper hitting your wetness once and again with the same pressure.

“Shit, babe... I love your pussy... It's so fuckin' tight, so fuckin' damp, my love...”. He gasps on your ear, drowning there his own growls.

“It's all yours, papi”. You say then, looking for his lips to sink your tongue between them till you find his.

It's a easy way to drown your moans and your curses, with every stroke making you squirm on his arms. The kiss goes filthy and rampant, heating your whole body and bristling your skin. You love him. So much. And even if sex it's not more important than that, he makes you feel you're in heaven with every hit rubbing your clit. The only thing you expect is that he doesn't ruin your outfit or it's gonna be even more embarrassing.

“Fuc'me harder, Nestor...” You beg almost huffing, knowing that you're close.

Wrapping tightly your legs and pushing him into you when he pounds you, drowning all your moans with your face sink on his neck, your boyfriend takes it as a command. He doesn't stop and he's not gonna do it till make you cum on his hard cock, making him feel proud to please you.

“My baby girl...” He groans chuckling, biting his neck softly as you can keep silent when you hear some steps outside walking closer.

You have to cover your mouth at the exact moment your body find the ecstasy, with his name stuck in your lips. It feels amazing. You kiss him, silencing some sobs of pleasure before he pull himself out, complaining about it.

“Kneel, my love”. He asks you, helping you to go down as he wants.

With a naughty smile on your face and letting him place his hands on your head, you leave a long lick with the toe of your tongue all over his cock, covered by your own taste. He pushes it into your mouth, groaning because of your warm breath wrapping his hardness. Nestor sets the pace, fucking your mouth with his head tilted back slightly. He thrusts your throat, keeping his glans pressing it for a second, before continue hitting it.

“You're like a fuckin' fantasy, holy fuck...” He mutters as he can, trying not to talk loud.

He fills your mouth without expecting, with a soft contained growl whilst you swallow without him asking for it. Your tongue runs all over his size, enjoying every gesture of his face, when he can't handle anything else. Nestor helps you to get up, before clean yourself and getting your clothes well on. He kisses you again more dearly, with his fingers caressing your back so lovely that makes you sigh.

“'Am not gonna do it now, but... wanna know what Mikey said 'bout you?” He asks then, from nowhere interrupting the needy kiss. You're not sure if you want to know it. “That I should marry you”.

Your heart stops for a second, pursing your lips because of the surprise.

“Would you like, uh? I mean, I'm not proposing you. Not now. That should be more special, than do it after fucking you in my boss' bathroom”. You laugh in silence, shaking your head full of lively.

“Yes, I would like”. You answers then, putting his tie on and smoothing the shirt with both hands.

“‘K, I'll keep it in mind”.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva imagine

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

Vacation.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by @nxtrogers : heyy i love your writings, and i wanted to request an Aron Piper imagine, where the elite cast and (including the reader being a member of the cast) going to a vacation and Aron and the reader have feelings for each other and they start dating after the vacation. i thought it would be cute :) hope you have a nice day!!

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

“Oh honey no chance, I called this room first!” Danna defends as she pushes Omar out of the way of one of the rooms.

“Called it? Are we kids?” Omar laughs, wheeling his suitcase to the next spare room.

“Can we please just dump our bags and head down to the beach? The surfings meant to be great today,” Miguel calls from downstairs.

You’d been here for all of an hour and things were already hectic. As celebration for ending season three, and as goodbye to Danna and Ester, you and all of the rest of the cast had decided to come on holiday together for the week. You’d hired out a house just about big enough for all of you, with a huge pool and a view of the beach.

“Is this room still free?” You stick your head round the doorframe and see the empty room with a perfect view of the beach through the balcony.

“Yeah, I think so, I’ve taken this one,” Arón comments as he leans at the doorframe beside your room.

“Then please try not to snore every night, I need at least some sleep,” You smirk, heading inside and dumping your bag on the bed, “What’s the plan, are we heading to the beach?”

“I don’t think Miguel will have it any other way,” Arón jokes, “Meet you in five?”

You agree and split off into your rooms to change, finding your first swimsuit of the week. You grabbed a pair of shorts to go with it and some flip flops, pulling your sunglasses into your hair to keep the hair away from your face. It was a relief to have some time off from work, especially with the whole cast, and it felt like a good way of you all being together again before people started to leave. However, there was one person in particular who’d been your strongest reason for wanting to come on this holiday this week.

Rightly so, in five minutes, you are all leaving the house and heading down to the beach. Miguel’s already got a surfboard hired as him and Itzan head out into the sea. The rest of you find spots on the sand and make the most of the last few hours of sun.

“Can you put some on my back please?” You ask Arón as he sits down beside you, reaching out the sunscreen bottle in his direction.

“Yeah... sure... I can,” He fumbles a little, taking the bottle from you and squeezing some into his hand.

“You can use some if you need to,” You comment, pulling your hair out of the way as he applies the cream, “Wouldn’t want you to burn.”

He laughs, “I’ll take my chances.”

You try not to grow goosebumps under his touch as his hands are running over your exposed skin and try not to let your breath hitch in your throat.

“Ugh, stop with the flirting you two,” Omar waves a hand at the pair of you.

Arón snaps away instantly, handing back the bottle and pulling his sunglasses back over his eyes like he was trying to hide his face a little more.

“Come on (Y/n), you said you wanted to try and surf,” Miguel comes jogging back over, “You can use Itzan’s board.”

You let him pull you up as you both head down to the sea and he starts attempting to teach you the basics. You’re oblivious to how Arón watches you, smiling when you first fall off. How he watches you throw your head back and laugh when Miguel starts to lose patience. How you end up just splashing him with the water and trying again. He watches every move you make, so carefree and dismissive of everyone else around you.

“God, could you stare anymore?” Omar nudges him, “You like (Y/n)?”

Arón looks at him and shakes his head, “It’s never going to happen.”

“You’d be surprised,” Omar smirks, “Trust me.”

Arón looks back up over to you and sees you looking back. You offer him a bright smile and wave wildly. He finds himself chuckling as he offers you a small wave back, smiling at how much your extroverted nature constrasted him.

- - - - - -

The following evening, you’ve somehow managed to set up the fire outside the house and you’re all huddled around the pit as the sun has set and the cool sea breeze becomes more prominent.

“I’m gonna miss this guys,” Danna sighs as she sits back down on her spot on the couch.

“Me too,” Ester smiles, wrapping an arm around her, “It feels so weird to be leaving already.”

“To Élite!” Álvaro raises his beer bottle to the centre of the circle.

You all cheer and raise your glasses, leaning forward to connect them all in the middle. When you lean back into your chair, you shift your head to rest it on Arón’s shoulder. It doesn’t seem like a big gesture, maybe influenced slightly by your sleepy head. He looks down at you and smiles, somewhere along the way wrapping an arm around you to hold him close to you.

The night draws on until you’re all parting to go to your separate rooms, all having a few more drinks than you’d intended to have after only having a chilled night at the house. As Danna leaves with Omar, it’s just you and Arón left outside. The wind has got colder, though still relatively mild, and you’re now huddled under a blanket, still wrapped in Arón‘s arms.

“Do you want to head inside?” You ask him tiredly, stifling a yawn as you shift under the blanket.

“Let’s stay here,” He mumbles, shifting a couple of the pillows so they can make a makeshift bed, “The stars are too good to miss.”

You hum in agreement and let him guide you to lay on the couch with him, his body keeping you warm against the night.

“Do you know all the constellations too?” You question, shuffling so you could follow his eyeline up to the sky.

“I have no idea but those ones look like a fork,” He points upwards with his one free arm.

“A fork? Is that the scientific name?” You laugh, letting him find your hand to guide it up to the sky to show you some more stars.

“Those ones look a bit like a dick,” He chuckles, maybe a little bolder than normal thanks to the beer in his system.

“For fucks sake Arón,” You giggle, letting his hand hold yours there even now the stars seemed absent.

His fingertips slowly move, breaking away from yours before trickling down your arm slowly, creating unmissable goosebumps in their shadow. You hum contentedly and find yourself struggling to keep your eyes open any longer, falling asleep easily against his chest.

- - - - - -

It’s a couple of days later when you all decide to head out to a club for the night - making the most of not having to worry about the hangover the following morning. You get dressed up and all head out just before midnight, heading down to where you’d rented out the top floor of a local bar.

You’re only one drink in when you find yourself already on the dance floor. Mina pulls you over instantly and you’re dancing with her to whatever song comes on, swaying your hips to the music.

“Honey he’s been looking at you all night,” Mina comments, leaning in close to speak to you, “He’s head over heels.”

“Oh come on, no he hasn’t,” You roll your eyes, glancing over your shoulder at Arón.

In fact, she was right, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He smirks when he sees you looking in his direction and he raises his glass to you. You laugh and dance over to him, reaching out your hands.

“Come on Piper, on the dance floor,” You encourage, pulling his hands.

“If you insist,” He laughs, catching up with you and placing his hands on your hips as you turn around.

Sure, you’re dancing a little more intentionally than friends should do. It’s obvious you’re flirting. But when he returns the same energy, it’s impossible to stop.

The guys all nudge each other and look in your direction, noticing how caught up in each other you were. They’d known it for a long time, maybe even before you did. You two just worked together. If it was you being the only one to remember his coffee order, or him bringing you breakfast to set in the morning. The two of you falling asleep on the couch in your trailer, and looking far too peaceful for anyone to want to wake you. Maybe it was the way he spoke about you in interviews - telling people he’d found someone incredible, like you were already his.

All you knew was, with his hands on your waist, you couldn’t care less about anyone around you. Arón has the strange ability to get you completely wrapped up in him. And you weren’t complaining.

- - - - - -

As the day arrives for you to leave, it’s you and Arón that are the last ones to get out of your rooms. You haul your suitcase out and fix your sunglasses onto your head.

“Thanks for not snoring too much,” You smile at him as he steps out of his room too.

“Can’t say the same for you,” He jokes, setting his smaller suitcase down, “Need some help with your bag?”

“No, I’ve got it,” You shake your head, “I’ve had fun this week.”

He smirks, “Yeah, me too.”

Both of you were well aware that you were only talking about each other.

“You know, I’m glad we got to spend some time together. Without being at work, that is,” He continues, scratching the back of his neck.

“Me too,” You return, “Maybe we should do this again some time.”

He chuckles, “Are you asking me out (Y/n)?”

“I wouldn’t object,” You raise your hands in defence, “Come on, they’re probably waiting for us.”

You go to try and lift your suitcase but Arón is quick to place a hand over yours.

“Maybe next time I can actually learn what the stars are called,” He smirks, his words close to your lips.

You laugh a little but it’s cut off by him dipping his head in to meet yours and press a kiss to your lips.

“Guys I swear to god I’ll drag you downstairs myself if I have to!” Miguel yells from downstairs and both of you are quick to pull away from each other.

Arón grins and takes your suitcase for you, “We better not leave them waiting any longer.”

“They’ll definitely kill us,” You joke, leaning up to kiss his cheek once again, close to the corner of his lips, before pulling away and leading the way downstairs.

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glitterblazercalum · 4 years

Note

OKAY this one made me laugh so “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” whoever u want xoxo bella ps i did steal that sign off from you thanks love

well, it’s been a Long Time since you sent this. I started off writing something completely different that somehow took an angsty turn so here’s a piece of princess diaries!sos instead:

On his way up to the 42nd floor of the Waldorf-Astoria, Michael reminisces about how much he used to love Thursday afternoons. He’d had the apartment to himself until at least seven in the evening, so he’d been free to play video games, completely undisturbed, right from the minute he got home from school.

Today, after school, he’d hurried into a town car, fumbled his way through changing into a more ‘princely’ outfit, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, rushed through as much homework as he could get done on the drive over to Grandmère’s hotel, and hadn’t even had time to grab a snack in between. The last one could probably be remedied fairly easily, if he was willing to subject himself to the ridiculous canapés room service always sent up when he called to request “snacks.”

The royalty lessons, or whatever Grandmère had taken to calling them, were, without a doubt, the bane of Michael’s existence. Today’s was supposedly being handled by Pytor, Duke of Some Tiny Piece of Land, and Michael couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than get off of the elevator.

At least with Grandmère, there was a sense of ease throughout the lesson, the ability to laugh at themselves. Grandmère had grown up like a normal person, so she understood where Michael was coming from.

Pytor, on the other hand, was the most ridiculous person Michael had ever met and he’d clearly been raised as a royal; there was a sense of superiority and entitlement that lingered in the air around him almost as much as his god-awful cologne did.

That same cologne is the first thing to greet him as soon as he finally musters the strength to step into the lavish suite that Grandmère is currently calling home. Calum immediately wanders off, apparently deciding that his role as a bodyguard need not apply any longer. He’s not wrong, considering how much security is milling around outside the suite and hotel, but Michael resents the lack of solidarity anyways.

“Ah, Miguel! Wonderful of you to finally join us!” Pytor trills, sweeping into the room in a billow of floral-patterned silk.

“It’s Michael. Genovians speak French, so it’d be Michael there, too.”

Pytor waves a hand around and replies, “You say potato, I say potato.”

“You just said it the same way both times. You’re literally proving my point.”

Pytor narrows his eyes at him and asks, “Weren’t you told to stop wearing those glasses?”

“I don’t remember anyone saying anything along those lines, actually. Maybe the cologne fumes are making you hallucinate?”

As Pytor indignantly draws himself up to respond, Grandmère’s voice echoes from down the hall, “Boys, get on with the lesson!”

With no shortage of barely concealed glee, Pytor says, “Today, we’ll be covering the art of charm. Charisma, as it’s often referred to, in association with my name. Flirtation. And perhaps… even seduction.”

He decides to ignore Calum’s cackling from the next room over and says, “Oh, hell no. If this gets anywhere near seduction, I’m abdicating and calling the authorities on you. I’m sure someone’ll find some fraud charges somewhere in your past. ”

Pytor clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You Americans are overly concerned with the law.”

“Just get on with the lesson.”

Calum strolls back into the living room and smirks, “You know, I think I’ll stay and watch this one.” Michael contemplates smashing himself over the head with the physics textbook in his backpack.

“So, Miguel —”

“Not my name.”

“Putain, fine, have it your way. Michael, I’m going to use a — how you say… pick-up line on you.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a question. I will use the pick-up line, and you will respond as charmingly as you can, not that I expect much before I teach you my ways.”

“Calum, aren’t you supposed to protect me from danger? This is seriously endangering my emotional wellbeing,” Michael pleads.

“My contract only covers physical danger. Emotional threats are beyond my paygrade.”

“Fuck you.”

“You sure about that? Thought you liked that guy As—”

Michael slaps his hands over Calum’s mouth and yells, “Pytor, just get on with it already!”

Pytor’s expression somehow shifts to be even more sleazy than usual and, in a perfect American accent, he drawls, “Hey, baby, are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see.”

Internally, Michael is screaming loud enough to wake the dead, but he refuses to let Pytor know that he’s already gotten to him. “No, I’m from New York. Looks like we have nothing in common, bye!”

Pytor is utterly unfazed and immediately fires off another one, “Hey, baby, are you from outer space? Because you’re out of this world.”

“We literally just established that I’m from New York. Are you not even paying attention to what I’m saying? This is a terrible way to get someone to go on a date with you.”

This time, there’s a tiny bit of irritation in Pytor’s voice when he says, “I thought ‘happiness’ started with ‘h’ but it looks like mine starts with ‘u’.”

“Have you ever been tested for dyslexia? Many people go their whole lives without knowing they have it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Michael, just flirt back. I’d like to get out of here before the sun rises tomorrow,” Calum interjects.

Michael just flips him off in response. Grandmère conveniently happens to be walking by at that moment and gives him a disapproving shake of her head.

Pytor continues with, “I’m not an electrician, but I can light up your life.” Where is he even getting all of these from? There’s no way real people have ever said these with the intention of flirting and succeeded in getting a date.

Michael groans and flops fully onto the sofa, posture be damned. “I’m way too sober for this.”

“You don’t even drink.”

Michael whirls back around to Pytor and demands, “How would you— oh. Shut up, Cal. You don’t know about everything that I do or don’t do.”

“Knowing that is quite literally my job, so. Wrong, again,” Calum replies, looking infuriatingly calm.

“Well, even if I didn’t drink before, the last hour’ll be what drives me to start.”

Pytor claps his hands together and says, “What a wonderful idea! I’ll go get some cocktails from the bar downstairs.”

Before Michael can ask why he needs to go all the way downstairs when there’s a Costco-sized selection within the various rooms of the suite, Pytor has already left.

Michael turns back to Calum and incredulously asks, “D’you think… I actually made him mad? Is that why he’s left?”

Grandmère sticks her head back into the room to say, “You’ll have to teach me that trick, mon chéri. God knows how many times I’ve wished for him to leave but suffered through his presence in the name of decorum.”

Michael shoots her a conspiratorial smile and says, “I bet he’d be even angrier if you let me leave before he comes back.”

Grandmère heaves a long-suffering sigh and decides, “I suppose that’s alright. Though, only for today. And I expect you to arrive exactly on time for Sunday afternoon’s high tea. We’ll be meeting with a baron.”

“Yep, yep, I’ll be here!” he says, dashing around to gather all of his stuff together before she changes her mind. “Bye, Grandmère!

-=-=-=-=-

When he gets home, he still has an hour and a half to play Resident Evil 2 and he feels the joy of Thursday afternoons once more.

#5sos #5sos fandom #5sos fic #crackfic #my writing #prompts #princess diaries but make it 5sos #michael clifford #calum hood #my fic #this is so stupid I'm sorry it exists #also completely forget that helen wrote something similar a while ago so credit to helen for subconsciously inspiring me <3

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venactricisfics · 4 years

Text

Malibu Desert

I hate meetings.

Mayans based Story. Adult Content.

Master List

Chapter Thirteen

I had a little more freedom since the unexpected death of my husband. I was able to drive my own SUV without a Mayan in the passenger’s seat or tailing me. It was nice at first but I started to miss the constant company.

I thought about that as I hang my bag of dry cleaning from the hook in my backseat. I frown seeing the bloodstain on the carpet. Angel’s. I lost my job at the hospital shortly after. I hadn’t accumulated the hours to take off as long as it did to recover. I was better off than most who got laid off. I had millions to fall back on. But I still missed the work.

I pull my SUV to a stop inside the scrap yard and smile as EZ opens the door for me, “Grab that stuff in the back? I'm meeting with the lawyers and need to change.” I had gotten accustomed to having at least one of the Mayans carrying my things for me.

“Sure, Bish is inside,” he responds matching my smile. “I’ll bring this stuff and leave it in the backroom.”

“Thanks,” I leave EZ to gather my stuff and walk up the steps into the clubhouse. Taza greets me with a peck on the cheek before he pulls out my chair. I take a seat my eyes moving from Bishop to Hank and then back again. “What’s wrong?”

“We have a meeting with Galindo tonight,” Bishop says as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“Oh, that’s ok, baby,” I rest my hand on his, “I know we had plans for dinner but we can change them. I’m good with that.”

“I don’t mean we have a meeting,” he motions from himself to the men at the table, “I mean we have a meeting, all of us.” he motions from himself to me. “I don’t want you involved in the shit we do.”

“I’m not afraid of it,” I lock my eyes directly on his, “I never was.”

“This world can get you killed, querida,” he responds.

“The world I came from already tried,” I stated. “It didn’t take. So you can fill your table with all your men and cast a vote or whatever the fuck you all do in there, but don’t sell me short. I’m not scared.”

“There’s shit that I may have to do,” he says, “I don’t want you to see.”

“Nothing that you do would change how I feel about you. I love you,” I respond as I lean forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “And I won’t know what Galindo wants with me or my father’s business until I meet with the lawyers.” I glance down at my watch then back up, "Speaking of I have to get ready for my meeting with them. I'll have a better understanding of what Galindo wants with me."

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror after taming my copper curls into a bun. I didn't feel like me anymore. I was sinched and pulled tight into my suit. I internally wished I didn't enjoy Bishop's cooking quite so much.

I slip my stockinged feet in a pair of red-soled heels. They used to feel perfect on my feet but that was a different me. The one that was broken. The one that was afraid.

I wasn't her anymore, at least not on the inside. We still looked the same even if I had put on a couple pounds.

"How do I look?" I ask as I step back out.

"Tall, " Bishop responds, devouring me with his gaze. I smile standing eye to eye with him. I give his lips a peck.

"I'll be back soon, " I brush my thumb over his lips to remove traces of my lipstick.

"Take the prospect with, " he said. It wasn't a question or even a suggestion. I welcomed the company though. EZ's brain would catch anything I may miss. I give a nod, waiting briefly for EZ to join me as my heels tap against the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

“Driving or following?” I ask as I fidget with my blazer. He takes my keys from me and moments later we pull to a stop outside of the lawyers’ office.

“Ready?” he asks after opening my door for me.

“Too late to turn back now,” I grab my bag and walk with him inside the office. The contrast between us catches several eyes. At least the man had sleeves today.

The lawyer on the other side of the table had dark wavy hair and piercing blue eyes. He attempted to dazzle me with a smile as he stands. “Thank you for meeting us here today,” he says holding his hand out to shake, “Nathan Rosen.” I give his hand a shake and take the card he offered. It was textured and pretentious. He would fit in especially well with the country club princesses I grew up with.

“Nova O’Shay,” I respond and take a seat across from him, “this is my friend, EZ Reyes. He’ll keep us all honest.” EZ stands behind me arms crossed over his chest. I slight smile curves at the corners of my lips seeing Rosen’s reaction.

“I’m here to discuss some of your family’s other business ventures,” he states.

“I know,” I reply, “I didn’t think my uncle was an actual butcher in Belfast.” I listen as he discusses the connection to the IRA and guns. My uncle was an Irish King and my father helped facilitate the gun trade. It was coming clearer. The guns were supplied to the cartel, the Galindo cartel.

“It’s up to you how you want to handle this,” Rosen says, “I can arrange a meeting with the club president that’s currently handling distribution in the US for you.” I notice his glance to EZ and then back to me.

“An MC?” I ask looking back at EZ.

“The Sons of Anarchy,” he replied. Rosen confirms it.

“I can’t meet with them without the Mayans,” I state, “I’m affiliated.”

“Of course,” Rosen says as we stand. “Call me in a few days and we can arrange it.”

“I’ll do that,” I give his hand a shake before walking with EZ back out to my car. Frowning as I look at the time, “I won’t have time to talk with Bishop or the club before we meet with Galindo.”

“I can’t help you in there,” he points to the prospect patch on his chest, “Jaw still stings a little from the first time I gave insight.”

“I can handle it,” I state, “I don’t know Galindo, but I know Bishop. He won’t let anything happen to me.” The lot in the back of the dress factory is lined with bikes and Galindo’s Rolls Royce. I straighten my jacket and smooth my skirt as I climb out of the car. More nervous about this meeting than the last. I knew that this one held dyer consequences if things were to go south. I couldn’t let these men see me tremble. Any of them.

I draw in a breath as we make our way across the factory floor, past the dresses and material into a back room. My heart raced when the door scraped over the concrete floor. I can’t lose it. Not again, not in front of everyone. I muster every ounce of strength I possessed and pull my lips into a smile as my eyes raise from the cold floor to Galindo’s face. He’s bookended by Alverez and the man with the braids.

“You are looking much better than the last time I saw you, Ms. O’Shay,” Miguel Galindo’s voice had charm, he was educated. Polished. Smug.

“Rest does wonders,” I respond maintaining my cool demeanor.

“You should try the Vida Tranquila spa,” he says, “my wife swears by it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I narrow my eyes at the man, “But I don’t think you asked me here to ask about my health and wellbeing. So tell me,” I take a step closer to him, “Mr. Galindo, why should the Irish Kings continue to supply your… organization?”

“To the point,” he pulls his lips into a sort of smile, “I appreciate that. Our families have had a mutually beneficial arrangement for the past several years.”

“Stick with the status quo?” I quirk a brow. I hadn’t had a chance to review anything with Bishop or the others but I couldn’t let this man think that I could be run over. “I have to meet with the club that they’ve been working with to make sure it’s still a good fit. I need to understand exactly how this arrangement works.”

“Of course,” he responds, “talk to the Sons, the Mayans, the Irish Kings and whoever else you need to, then we can meet again. I look forward to furthering our relationship.”

“Presuming that everything goes well,” I extend my hand to shake his, “we’ll meet again soon.” Galindo gives my hand a shake before leaving with his entourage. I let the breath out that I had been holding.

“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Bishop’s voice is harsher than I’ve heard before. At least aimed in my direction.

“I am not a prospect in your club,” I glare at him, “you will not fucking talk to me like I am one.” Fuming I start toward the door.

“She’s heir to the Irish Kings,” EZ interjects.

“She’s what?” Angel asks.

My hand on the doorknob as I speak, “My uncle and my father were rulers of the Irish Republican Army. Kings. The guns you get from that club up North,” I turn back to face them, “are provided to them by the IRA.”

“What are you planning on doing, querida?” Bishop’s voice softer now when he speaks.

“Now,” my eyes fixed on his, “I plan on going back to the clubhouse and taking off this tight as hell suit and these shoes. Maybe have a beer. After that I’m open.”

“Alright,” he says, “I think I can get behind that plan.”

---

I shake my hair loose of the bun and step out of my heals the moment I get into the clubhouse apartment. I turn back toward the door as the knob rattles and Bishop strolls through the door. He doesn’t speak. His hands tangle in my hair and he pulls my face to his. Lips pressing hard against mine as he pushes me against the wall.

“I need you to fuck me, please,” I groan into his lips.

“I know,” he responds The fabric of my skirt tears as he lifts my legs to wrap around his waist. “Fuck you have too many fucking clothes on.” His lips dance over my neck, his hand runs up my stockinged thighs and rips my panties. A second later I hear the sound of his zipper lowering and feel the head of his cock sliding up and down my soaked pussy. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” I whimper, “Fuck me please.” His cock pushes into me, my body driven hard into the wall. “Oh god,” I shudder. I cling tighter to him and he slams into my waiting pussy, again and again, drilling hard and fast into me.

The back of my head knocks against the wall, I barely noticed. He pulls my top-down, releasing my tits. They bounce in sync with the hard thrusting. He leans down taken a hardened nipple in his lips causing me to cry out loud and grind back against him.

Grabbing a handful of my hair pulling my head to the side and sucks on my neck, his stubble rubbing against the tender flesh. He has me pinned so tight to the wall I can’t move. I was totally at his mercy. He squeezed my ass hard as his cock drives into me.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” I cry out loud. His lips smoother out the cries, his tongue tangling with mine. My orgasm building larger until it swept over my body in a ripple. I shook and cried out as his assault on my pussy continued. I squeeze around him and his body tightens. He was on the edge. I moaned milking every drop of cum from him. His head rested on my shoulder and he relaxed for a moment before letting me down and zipped himself up. My cunt was throbbing, my legs shaking as I breathe hard, balancing myself against the wall.

Bishop presses his lips to mine, “Get changed and I’ll see you out there.”

#Mayans MC #mayans #mayansfx #bishop losa #bishop losa x oc #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #mayans mc fanfic #SOA #sons of anarchy

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whattimeisitintokyo · 4 years

Text

Somos Familia Ch 38 Birthday Eve

Tomorrow is my birthday, so now I can relax knowing I got this GD chapter out! Hallelujah!

------

“Hola, Coco.” Miguel said happily, leaning in to give his sister a kiss on the cheek.

Coco smiled as she tilted her head to accept it. “How are you, Miguel?”

“Good, now that school is out.”

“Are you excited about your birthday tomorrow?”

“No.”

With a small sigh Coco shook her head and pointed a thumb to the back of the house. “Well go on to your little club meeting then. I’ll ring Papá and tell him you’re over here. You know how he worries.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“Don’t forget the Cokes!”

“Gracias, Coco!” Miguel grabbed two ice cold bottles out of the refrigerator and raced to Victoria’s bedroom upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

Over the years Coco’s house had become a sort of safe haven for Miguel to spend his free time. Yes, he had friends at school that he could hang out with, but nothing compared to how stress-free, homey and normal Coco’s house was. A spacious yet modest colonial style home built near the town’s border, it was the perfect place where Miguel could relax and actually be himself with no fear of his love of music being discovered by his parents.

Never really understanding his father’s unwavering stand on having no music listened to or played in his vicinity, Miguel was forced to keep his passions to himself until his older sister took pity on him and let him listen to dozens of records from her own private collection. He was also joined by his niece Victoria, and their shared secret hobby had led them to becoming each other’s best friend.

His smile faded as he reached the door when he saw another little girl standing in a huff in front of it, her face blotchy from having been crying, and she threw him a hard glare. With a stomp of her foot, she pointed at the door. “Tío, make her open up!”

“You’re not coming in here, Elena!” Victoria’s angry voice called out from the other side. “Get out of the way so Miguel can get through!”

Elena whined and hopped up and down. “Why does he get to come in and not me?!”

“Because he didn’t feed my tutu to your stupid goat!”

“Diego is not stupid! And I didn’t feed it to him, you just left it out!” Hands on her hips, she smiled smugly. “Besides you deserve it. If Abuelito knew that you were dancing he’d be mad at you. Maybe even hate you!”

Not liking how that line in particular made him feel, as well as not wanting to waste anymore time, Miguel held one of the Cokes out to Elena. “Here Elenita. Have a Coke.”

As her eyes settled on the bottle, Elena gasped in delight and reached for it. “Gracias tío!” Tilting it back and taking three large, refreshing gulps, she sighed in satisfaction. “Ahh, delicio-”

*SLAM!*

“HEY!”

Locking the door behind him as Miguel managed to zip inside, Victoria laughed and leaned against it while Elena kicked and yelled from the other side. She was already clad in her leotard and pointe shoes, but sans tutu of course. She nodded approvingly at Miguel. “Very clever Miguel. I’m impressed.”

Miguel chuckled and set the remaining bottle down. “Not that clever. Now we have to share one.”

“I know what you’re doing in there!” Elena screamed at them. “You’re dancing and playing music! Abuelito hates music! I’m gonna tell on you!”

“That’s only when Abuelito’s around, estupida! Mamá says we can do whatever we want with music as long as he’s not here, so you’re not allowed to tell!” Victoria crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “You’re just jealous because your legs are too short and fat to even walk, let alone try to dance.”

There was a moment of silence, before the sound of quick footfalls flying down the hallway and the piercing cry of “Mamá!” echoing off the walls let them know that they were finally alone. For now.

Miguel pulled his guitar out from underneath Victoria’s wardrobe, smiling reverently and brushing his fingers lightly against the crudely drawn skull on the stock. It was an old thing, the wood worn and splintering slightly along the edges despite how much gold paint he had slathered all over it. Limited artistic abilities aside he was quite pleased with how much he made it to look like Ernesto de la Cruz’s famous golden guitar. He just needed to get a Sharpie or something to draw in the final details. It wasn’t the best guitar in the world, but he was too scared to buy a brand new one. The fear of Papá somehow finding out kept him from doing so.

It could be worse though. It could have been a guitar made from scraps, screws and nails.

“So what do you want me to play?” Miguel asked as he tuned the strings to perfection. “Lago de los Cisnes again? Ooh, or maybe El Cascanueces because it’s almost the holidays. I’ve been working on the Russian dance if you’re up to the challenge.”

There was a time where Miguel wasn’t exactly fond of playing classical ballet songs for Victoria to dance to, considering it boring and her dancing to be prissy and goofy. That was until Victoria angrily challenged him to try it himself. He arrogantly agreed, and his one attempt to stand en pointe resulted in a dislocated big toe and a nail split down the middle. He had to lie to his parents about it too, saying that a horse had stepped on his foot. Now he treated Victoria’s dancing with the awe and pride that it deserved. And the songs were good practice for his plucking anyway.

“Not yet Miguel. First… I have to give you these.” Victoria placed a box in front of him, a small yet pleased smile on her face. “Feliz cumpleaños, Tío.”

With a roll of his eyes, Miguel took the lid off the box. “C’mon, Victoria. Why couldn’t you just wait to give it to me to-… morrow?...”

“Because Abuelito would throw a fit if I gave it to you in front of him.”

“Leather wrist bands!” Miguel cheered happily, throwing the box to the side and slipping the brown leather over his hands. “Just like the ones Tío Nesto used to wear! They actually look like the ones he wore in El Camino a Casa!”

Victoria nodded proudly. “Yep! I worked really hard on them to make it look exact.”

Miguel looked up at her in wonder as he finished fastening the buttons tight. “You made these?”

“Uh huh. I used leftover leather from the old workshop after the museum tour guide finished the shoe demonstration. I’m very good at weaving leather, who would have thought?”

The old workshop, along with the entire Rivera household, had finally run its course. After years of hemming and hawing Héctor had finally conceded that it was time to move into a bigger, safer house for his growing family. Not as flashy as any of Ernesto’s mansions, it was still an enormous complex with enough bedrooms for all the guests that were coming to Miguel’s birthday celebration. With high security walls, a lush garden full of both lovely flowers and fresh vegetables, and a five-car garage with the latest models inside, it was a house that truly showed off the Rivera’s wealth.

The old house had been turned into the Rivera Shoe museum, showcasing it as the origin of Imelda’s business as well as a small monument to the history of the family. There were demonstrations on basic shoe repair with workshops on cutting and sewing leather for tourists to enjoy, a gift shop to buy Rivera souvenirs as well as the usual fittings for their own custom-made shoes that they could order.

That was only during the weekdays. On the weekends it was closed to everyone but the family, and it was also where they would be having Miguel’s birthday party and where the ofrenda would be set up: So Leti could visit her real home.

But over the years the actual holiday came second to Miguel’s birthday. His father put all his time and energy into giving his youngest the best birthday a child could ask for: Mountains of food, games, presents and all his friends at school would come over and have the time of their lives.

Miguel had loved it.

At first.

But as he grew older his father’s exuberance over his birthday became more and more embarrassing. It was his main focus on all the days leading up to it, and on the day of the party he became unbearably chipper and happy. Never mind the fact that Miguel would soon be turning twelve years old. Papá always acted like he was celebrating a five year old’s birthday. And despite the pleas from his friends parents Papá insisted that he celebrate his birthday on the day of, refusing to move it to another day so the families could also celebrate Dia de Muertos. Also since every party had no music for entertainment they became increasingly boring for all who came.

So eventually his friends stopped coming to his birthday parties, and it just became a family get together. Miguel would have rather just not celebrate at all, but Papá wouldn’t let him. He insisted that Miguel celebrate his birthday, but the boy knew by now that it wasn’t for his sake.

Papá needed to celebrate his birthday. To have something joyous to focus on, so as not to think about the daughter he had tragically lost, nor the day that his best friend and brother had been gruesomely ripped away from him. His birthday was a blessing to his father: the one good thing about Dia de Muertos.

And so Miguel endured it. But as he flexed his wrists and admired the exquisite craftsmanship of his sobrina, it made it feel like it would be easier to do so this year.

“Gracias, Victoria. They’re great! I feel just like Tío Nesto now!”

“De nada, Miguel.” Victoria smiled warmly. “And yes, I would like to try the Russian Dance. Your tempo has been poor lately, I’d hate to see if those wrist bands somehow make it worse.”

“Ha! Yeah right, just try to keep up!” Miguel laughed, and broke out with a loud flourish of his guitar.

----

“Well I hope you enjoyed your little nap, Héctor.” Vicente grumbled as he and his supposed boss walked down the streets of Santa Cecilia, both munching on street food. “It’s not like quarterly report meetings are that important to your financial wellbeing as well as the thousands of people who work under you. And the board was even willing to come all the way to Santa Cecilia just so it wouldn’t upset your holiday plans.”

Héctor waved him off. “Ah, Chente, I’m just a figurehead for the company. You’re the one who should care about these things, not me. I’m like the uh… I’m the King George to your Neville Chamberlain!”

“It’s Churchill now.”

“Whatever. The point is you take care of the important stuff while I force a grin and wish the shareholders a happy holidays once a year.” Héctor grumbled, taking a huge bite of a tortilla filled to the brim with garlic, onions and fried chapulines. “Mmm… Oh yeah, last batch of the season is always the best… Besides I caught some of it. Especially when old man Tapia suggested we shut down some of the soup kitchens. Can you believe it?! That viejo looks like he’s never missed a meal in his life! He has no idea what it’s like to starve or do a hard day’s work for your food. Do you know what my first job was ever?”

“Catching grasshoppers when you were four years old.”

“Catching grasshoppers when I was!-… Oh, I told you that one, huh?” Héctor mumbled. “Well no matter. My grandchildren are coming in from America for the celebration tomorrow. They’ll appreciate my stories!”

Vicente smiled. “Ah, I haven’t gotten to see the newest one yet. It’s nice that they get to experience an authentic celebration for Dia de M-”

“Miguel’s birthday!” Héctor cut in quickly, his grin stretching a little wider than normal. “Si, it’s nice they get to see celebrate their tío’s birthday. All kids love parties, right?”

Vicente winced a little, nervously thumbing through the work papers in his hand. “… Right. Still I love this time of year. I remember being so excited to get to stay up all night for the festivals in my hometown when I was little. Helping my Papá decorate the ofrenda, sampling all the dishes my Mamá and my sisters cooked. The stories. I’m sure your grandchildren will love it. It’s always exciting to experience it the first time with your family when you’re little.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Héctor grumbled around a mouthful of tortilla, his earlier mirth gone. Vicente could tell he was trying to shoot down this conversation flat. “My parents dumped me in the orphanage when I was a baby, and the nuns thought Dia de Muertos was too pagan to celebrate. Didn’t really join in on the festivities until I moved out with E-…” Héctor paused, a flicker of pain in his eyes, before he forcefully swallowed down a too dry bite. “Until I had a family of my own.”

“Ay, Dios mio, speaking of families! Sorry Héctor I forgot.” Flicking through the pages he pulled out a couple of sheets. “I had this under miscellaneous since it had nothing to do with this morning’s meeting, but a certain Señor Domingo Cavallero approached me with this last evening while I was in the market.”

Héctor stared at the papers and groaned in disgust as he took them. “Domingo Cavallero? What does he want?”

Ever since the late elder Cavallero had brutally lost his position of the town’s mayor and the source of his embezzlement was taken from him, the whole family’s wealth had been steadily decreasing over the years. So set in their old ways they had kept up their lavish lifestyle until the pooled funds had trickled down into a puddle. What was once a proud and dignified family now lay on the very brink of heading off to the poor house. Héctor remembered quite clearly ever since he was a little boy the way Domingo had sneered in disgust at him every so often when their paths happened to cross. Now the former mayor’s son was coming to him?

“It seems that he and his son Ignacio are trying to build a hotel nearby. A family venture, he said, though it’s clear it’s a desperate attempt to reclaim their past wealth. I’m assuming they’ve scrounged up whatever money they’ve got left over to fund it but it’s not enough. They are humbly asking for a donation from you to make their dream come true… Or, rather, as humble as they are capable. I spent two minutes with the man and his son, and it was two minutes too many.”

“’El Dorado.’” Héctor read the description. “Hmph, very original… ‘A glorious extravaganza that combines superb customer service, gourmet meals delivered right to your room, and an astounding décor guaranteed to amaze and excite every guest.’”

“Sí. They’ve included blueprints and an artist’s rendering of the place to further incite you.”

Flipping to the next page, Héctor’s eyes widened as he looked at the illustrated drawing of what looked like the main lobby: Everything was gold. Gold furniture, gold wallpaper, gold plants. The wet bar, the piano in the lounge. Carpet, drapery, every single item nearly the exact same shade of gold. Not one other color to balance it out, not even a white or a brown. Just gold and gold alone.

“…This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been told Ignacio came up with the theme himself.”

“That’s not saying much. How much are they asking me to contribute?”

“Oh, roughly seventy five percent.”

“Seventy-five?!” Héctor sputtered, folding the sheets in half and flinging them back to Vicente as if holding them anymore would burn his skin. “Why don’t I just pay for the whole damn thing myself?! Anyone with half a brain cell can tell that that… thing… wouldn’t last even half a year. Well, you can tell them that I am simply not interested in putting my time and effort into a lost cause.”

“Wh-?... Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Héctor looked over to see Vicente with his face in his hand in frustration, and grimaced. “What, you think I should pay money for this basura?”

Vicente looked up. “Huh? Oh, no, I agree. It’s an eye sore. I’m sorry Héctor, but something’s just come up. I need to go to the cemetery for a minute, I’ll meet you at the house for lunch. Adios!”

Héctor blinked, just now noticing that they were in front of the town’s cemetery. As he watched Vicente head straight towards Ern-… The biggest mausoleum in the center of it all, he immediately turned heel and walked away as quickly as he could. All he needed to do was wind through some off the path streets, far away from the plaza, and he would be home. It would take longer, but that was okay. All the more time to plan for Miguel’s birthday surprise tomorrow. Héctor smiled, he was so excited to see Miguel’s face light up when he told him the big news. And he would have to thank Chente afterwards, he gave him the idea after all! He couldn’t w-

“Arf!”

“Gyah!”

Looking down Héctor sighed in relief when he just saw Dante, once again, sneak up on him and scare the living daylights out of him. And he wasn’t so sure if it was purely unintentional on the dog’s part either. “Hola Dante. You’re looking… remarkably well these days, especially for a twenty-year-old dog. No arthritis, vision loss, anything?… Sometimes I think you won’t die until you take me with you, the way you keep scaring me.”

Dante yipped again and gently tugged on Héctor’s pants leg, pulling him back towards the road to the plaza, but Héctor shook free of him. “Stop it Dante. If you’re going to the plaza you can bother someone else there. Because I’m not going. Now go on.”

Ignoring the whine of the dog behind him, Héctor made his way home. He had a party to organize, after all. And a surprise.

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

Walking up the path towards the mausoleum, glancing around to see if there was no one else within earshot to hear them, Vicente approached the man standing at the front gate glaring inside. Wrapped up in a thick poncho and wrinkled baggy pants, he held a cigar to the side before bringing it in for a thick puff. His wild sandy brown hair, thin patchy facial hair and piercing golden eyes made him look like he was a dirty vagabond no different from the ones lounging out in the street of the slums. No one would ever be able to tell that he was actually the head of the entire art department for Rivera de la Cruz productions with several prestigious awards to his name.

Especially not the way he was pouting childishly at the painting of Ernesto de la Cruz mounted high above his crypt and his shiny golden guitar.

“Javier, what are you doing back here?” Vicente asked tiredly.

“Just looking at the artistic travesty that has the power to make every true artist unfortunate to lay eyes on it retch in disgust.” Javier blew out a thick cloud of smoke, sneering all the while. “Look at it. Any child with a broken crayon could have made a better likeness of Señor de la Cruz.”

“Javi, how many times must we do this?”

Javier ignored him, continuing bitterly. “The background is such a slash and slop of blurs that it gives true focus on the face. That ugly horrid face that looks nothing like the man himself. Such cold, dead, expressionless eyes. You can feel it sucking your soul out.”

“Javi-”

“And that chin cleft. Is it a cleft, or did a psychopath just cut into him with a rusty knife? Might as well have given him a Glasgow grin while we’re at it.”

“Javi!”

“The person who made this painting should be drawn and quartered in front of the entire artistic community in order to avenge the death of art itself!”

Pinching his nose as he felt the pain of a headache coming, Vicente growled out. “Javier, Javi, mi amor… For the millionth time, and I don’t know why I have to keep saying this… YOU painted it!”

“All the more reason why I’m allowed to critique it.” Javier smiled widely in a way he knew always made his lover’s inside squirm. Seeing him flush slightly Javier drew his attention back to the painting. “I can’t believe I used to think that this was my masterpiece. You’d think I was the one on drugs at the time, not the other way around... Heh, though I was tempted to add a few white sprinkles on there. Ha ha!... But seriously this thing is un pedazo de mierda.”

Vicente sighed. “Look, if it bothers you so much maybe you can retouch it a little? Or we can put in another painting.”

Javier whirled around, eyes blazing fire and cheeks burning red. “And sully the greatest contribution to society I have ever made?! Commissioned by Ernesto de la Cruz himself, Mi obra maestra, mon pièce de résistance?! Are you loco?!”

Vicente stared blankly at him, then turned to leave. “I give up. I’m going to the house for lunch. Stay here and starve or come and eat, I don’t care anymore.”

“Ooh, comida!” Hopping down the stairs and running up next to Vicente, he flicked the head of his burnt off cigar up into the air, not caring when it landed in an offering dish of one of the graves with a clang. “Gonna get me some carnitaaas~…”

Fighting back a smile, Vicente pretended to glare at him. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m hopeless?” Javier chuckled haughtily as he attempted to smooth down his flyaway hair. “No, I’m an artist. I live in the now, paint what’s in my heart, love it and then despise it years down the road. It’s part of the package deal, you’ve known that for a long time. No, you are the one that’s hopeless.”

“Me?”

“Sí, tonto.” Javier said. “This hopeless idea of yours: Getting Héctor Rivera to take his little coddled son under his wing and to pursue music with Rivera de la Cruz Productions. The same man who practically hisses like a cat at the mere sound of even a maraca shaken by a baby? Yes, I do think it’s hopeless. Childish even. A fool’s dream.”

“I think it’s a good idea!” Vicente said grouchily, shoving Javier slightly to the side. “And Héctor has always known that Miguel is nothing like his brother in terms of interests. So, while Mateo works with his mother and follows in her footsteps, literally in their case, heh… then Miguel will follow in his father’s! This will give Miguel an opportunity to branch out on his own and eventually and pursue his musical dreams. Maybe a record producer, or a talent agent. He’ll be surrounded by music. I think it will be a nice birthday present for him from his father. And since it was my idea then technically it’s my present to the boy.”

Javier hummed a little at that, worried. “I don’t know… Are you sure you convinced him properly?”

Vicente huffed. “Please, Javi. If I can convince Pedro Infante to record a cover album of the best of de la Cruz at half his normal pay rate, then I can convince Héctor to let Miguel work in the music industry. Trust me, when this all falls into place, you will be bowing down to me in awe and praise.”

“Ooh, that would be a nice change of pace, eh? Usually it’s the other way around.” Javier smiled widely again, enough to wipe Vicente’s smirk off his reddened face, and was shoved away again with more force.

-------

“Mija, I’m coming in.”

“Is Elena with you?”

“Sí.”

“She’s not allowed in, Mamá! I’ve forbidden her!”

“Too bad, I’m overriding you. Come unlock the door. Now.”

With a loud, drawn out groan Victoria unlocked the door and opened it for her mother to come in. Julio was also with her, holding onto Elena’s tiny hand as the little girl sniffled and glared daggers at her older sister. Victoria stuck her tongue out at her, which Elena paid in kind with a full-blown raspberry. Before a full-blown slap fight could break out Coco flicked both girls on the forehead. “Stop it.”

“She fed my tutu to Diego, Mamá!”

“She called me short and fat!”

“No, I said your legs were-”

“I said stop!” Coco said loudly, and when both girls quieted down she stood over them with her arms crossed. “Now, what do I always say when you two fight over silly things like this?”

The two sisters, still glaring at each other, said through gritted teeth “‘Be nice to your sister, because she’s the only one you’ve got’.”

“That’s right.” Coco said. “You’ll never know how precious she is to you until, somehow, she’s gone for good.”

Both girls immediately looked at their mother with wide eyes before ducking their heads in shame, while Julio gently took his wife’s hand for support. “We’re sorry Mamá.”

Miguel had never known his older sister Leti. Despite all the stories he had heard about her over the years, she was a practical stranger to him. He knew how she had acted with Coco and Matty, but the feeling that he had never had his own relationship with her gave him a weird empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t know how her voice sounded, how she laughed, any of her own special quirks and tics. And yet there was a longing deep within him to know what she was like, so strange to long for something that he never had. He knew, however, that his pain was several times less than the ones who actually knew her.

To break up to sudden tension, Miguel set aside his guitar and grinned. “I guess I’m lucky that my brother and sister are too old to fight with. Older than dirt-OW!”

“I’m not too old to flick you too, gordito.” Coco smirked as Miguel rubbed his stinging forehead. “Now Miguel I know you’re never especially thrilled when it’s your birthday, but I think this year will be different.” Coco said, an excited grin threatening to burst out. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

Before Coco could elaborate, Elena bounced up and down happily and squealed. “I think I know! Tia Rosita is pregnant again, right?!”

Miguel blinked, completely unsurprised. “Oh, is she?”

Julio snorted derisively and crossed his arms. “That’s not a surprise. That’s becoming an annual holiday itself.”

“Julio!” Coco hissed, glaring at her husband. “That’s not true!”

“She's right, Papá.” Victoria smirked. “Osvaldo and Facunito are only nine and a half months apart.”

“Victoria! Both of you!” Coco sighed in exasperation. “No, Rosita is not pregnant!... I think… Well, she might b- I don’t know! That’s not what the surprise is anyway! This is the surprise!”

A pink sheet of paper was thrust into Miguel’s face, and it took a second for him to focus on what was on it. Decorated with black painted skulls and dancing skeletons, the words ‘Dia De Muertos Talent Show’ stood out in big bold letters. Taking it from his sister’s hands, Miguel looked at it in confusion for just a moment before a creeping sense of understanding and hope started to well within. “The talent show? You mean… I get to go see it?”

“No.”

Miguel sputtered. “Wh-?! What gives Coco?!”

“You’re not going to see it hermanito, you’re going to be in it! I signed you up as the first act and you’re going to play in front of the whole town! Now everyone can finally see how talented you truly are!” Coco cried out, smiling widely and grabbing her astonished little brother into a huge bear hug. “Feliz cumpleaños, Miguel!”

Miguel gaped in awe as his sister let him go, looking at the poster, then his guitar on the bed, then to Coco. Slowly a grin formed on his face and he laughed out loud. “Really?! I’m going to play in the talent show?! I can’t believe it!”

“I want to see that!” Victoria added happily. “That’s so exciting!”

“Gracias, Coco! Gracias gracias gracias-”

“No!” Elena shouted, causing everyone to look at her. The poor girl looked both angry and a little afraid as she clutched her mother’s skirt tightly and tugged it frantically. “No he can’t! It’s one thing to play in the house, but in front of people?! Abuelito will be mad for sure!”

Victoria groaned. “Ay Mamá, why did you have to show Miguel’s secret present in front of el lengua larga? She’ll blab for sure.”

“I won’t blab if he doesn’t go!” Elena cried, and hurried over to Miguel’s guitar. Clumsily she lifted it and placed the large instrument behind her back, as if thinking that if it was out of sight then it was out of mind. “Please don’t perform tío! If you go on stage you’ll be hurt or even killed. Just like Ernesto de la Cruz!”

“That was an accident Elenita. It had nothing to do with music.” Miguel said dismissively. “And what’s so bad about wanting to be like Ernesto de la Cruz? We all used to know him, you didn’t. He was the greatest of all time.”

“You want to end up like him too?! Smooshed flat, and the only thing left of you would be a picture on the ofrenda?!”

Miguel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I don’t care if I’m on some stupid ofrenda.”

While everyone else in the room winced at Miguel casual disregard for tradition, Elena gasped so long and hard, her eyes and mouth wide with pure horror, it was almost comical. Turning to look at the guitar in her hands, her brow furrowed, and her face scrunched up in absolute hatred and disgust. Lifting the guitar as high as she could go, and with a warlike cry, the brought it to the ground!

*thunk*

….

*thunk*

Coco sighed. “Elena, what are you doing?”

Straining as hard as she could, Elena brought the guitar down again and again. “Mmph!... Trying to- uuff!... break the- nnyah!... guitar!” She tried and tried again, but the instrument was both too sturdy and too cumbersome to maneuver properly, and she lacked both the strength and the force to damage it even a little. The guitar simply made some light twangy sounds as the strings were slightly squeezed and brushed against, almost as if the instrument was just as annoyed as everyone else by what was happening.

“Stop it Elena. You’re going to scratch it!”

“It’s already scratched Miguel. One more won’t hurt it.”

“Callate…”

Huffing with exertion now and sweating, Elena started to struggle with the large object. “I can do it… Haa… haa… I can do it! Gah! Tío, help.”

“No, I’m not gonna help you smash my guitar!” Miguel yelled angrily, swiping the guitar away from her. “I’m playing in the plaza tomorrow for my birthday. Your Mamá gave it to me as a present, and I’m gonna enjoy it! Period!”

“But-!”

“Elena…” Julio said sternly, getting his daughter’s attention. “You won’t say anything to your Abuelito about this, alright? I know you’re afraid of what he might say, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And he won’t know if you don’t say anything. Claro?”

“But-!”

“You must always listen to your parents. Please don’t ruin this for Miguel, okay?”

Elena looked at her parents, then her sister, Miguel, and back to her parents. As her face reddened more and more and her cheeks puffed up to the point of bursting, she fled the room in tears and ran down the hallway wailing. Coco sighed as he watched her daughter run off then patted Miguel on the back. “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”

“What if she’s right though?” Miguel asked softly, holding the flyer tightly to his chest as if he was afraid that even that could be taken away from him at any second. “What if Papá finds out? Or Mamá? They would never let me go.”

“We won’t let them find out, we promise.” Coco said gently. “Matty, Victoria and I will be there to cheer you on, while Julio will distract them long enough for you to perform.”

“Th-that’s right!” Julio nodded and laughed nervously. “I mean-… I-I can do that! I can… Lie… to my father-in-law and my mo-… It shouldn’t be too hard, right? I can- Sí, I can do that!”

“Sounds like you’ll need all the help you can get, Julio.” A voice suddenly popped up. “And should I be concerned about Elena flailing about on the couch downstairs? She looked like she was starting to turn blue.”

The four turned and smiled to see Wanda standing in the doorway, dressed in a fancy travel suit and holding a suitcase in one hand. Holding onto her other hand was a small boy, smiling shyly and wearing an adorable cowboy outfit complete with tiny Rivera boots. The small ten gallon hat couldn’t hide the dark wavy curls of his hair poking out from underneath and his face was a little dirt smudged. He carried a brightly wrapped birthday present in his other arm and held it out to Miguel. “Happy birthday, Uncle Miguel.”

“Charlie!” Victoria cried out and enveloped the small boy into a big hug, his round face smooshed against her shoulder. “Charlie, mi primo favorito! Oh Charlie, you look so cute! What are you dressed as?”

Charlie smiled sweetly up at Victoria. “The Lone Ranger. I got a plastic gun and bows and arrows in my bag, too. Can we play?”

“We can later.” Miguel said, taking the present from his nephew and knocking on the top of his hardened cowboy hat. “Thank you for the present, Carlos.”

The little boy’s smile faded and he gave an adorable pout. “My name is Charlie.”

“Not here. In Mexico you’re Carlos.”

“Basta, Miguel!” Victoria snapped, and gave Charlie another hug. “Oh, I missed you so much Charlie. You are my most favorite primo ever. So sweet and cute.”

“What about Dahlia?” Miguel asked. “And Margarita? And Anselmo? And Osvaldo, Facunito, and Amapola?”

“I don’t see him every single day of my life, and he doesn’t drive me crazy as soon as he enters the room.” Victoria said. “That’s what makes him my favorite.” Behind her Julio nodded silently in agreement with a shudder, and Coco swatted him with a glare.

“Matthew has already told me the game plan for tomorrow, Miguel.” Wanda said as she placed Charlie’s suitcase full of toys down and began to unpack it for him. “But if this is going to work then Julio, Coco and I should talk about how we’re going to keep your father from guessing what’s happening. Don’t you worry.”

“Gracias, Wanda.” Miguel said, walking over to hug her in gratitude. “Your Spanish has gotten really good by the way.”

Wanda returned the hug and smiled proudly. “Of course it has. That’s what happens after long term exposure, being outrageously intelligent and having the internal drive to learn new things. I mean seriously, did you have any doubts in my ability to learn it?”

“Sí.” “Yes.” “Sorry.” “I, uh-... Sí…”

Wanda huffed irritably at the slight, but brushed it off and bent down to her son to speak in English. “Now you be careful when you play, alright? Your arm is still a little weak, so be extra gentle. No cops and robbers or anything like that, alright?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Oh that’s right!” Victoria said, bending down to look the little boy in the eye. “You broke your arm a few months ago! I was so sorry to hear that. Elena even cried when she heard.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” Miguel asked. “Did it hurt? What happened?”

Gripping his left arm slightly, Charlie grinned as if he was telling a funny joke. “Daddy is the one who broke my arm.”

“WHAT?!”

“Matty broke your arm?!”

As the two children gasped and shouted at what they heard, both Coco and Julio winced as they looked at Wanda with pity. Wanda placed her hands over her mouth and sighed sadly, shaking her head wearily. “Charlie, you weren’t supposed to tell anyone that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Miguel shook his head. “Man, you must have gotten into big trouble if Matty broke your arm-OW!” He rubbed his shoulder where Victoria had socked him hard, but before he could say anything Charlie continued.

“He didn’t mean to.” Charlie said softly. “Mommy says something scared him and he was trying to protect me, but did it too hard. Daddy was very sorry, he cried for a long time. I didn’t know grown-up men cried! My arm was in this itchy cast for a long time and Daddy let me eat ice cream for breakfast every day after that!” Charlie’s smile faded at that, and a slightly nauseous grimace passed over him. “I don’t like ice cream any more…”

“Guys listen.” Wanda said to the two older children in a serious tone. “I don’t want you to let Matthew know that you know about this, all right? It is a very sensitive subject that he feels terrible about, I don’t want him to feel any worse. It’s in the past and we’re moving forward.”

“Is Matty all right?” Miguel asked softly.

“He’s fine.” Wanda said assuredly, holding her son closely. “We’re all going to be fine. Just like tomorrow is going to be fine. Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

-----

Héctor smiled as he held the whining baby high above his head, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his eyes until she dissolved into giggles. Lowering her down he blew loud raspberries onto each cheek until she squealed before giving her a kiss on the forehead. It was such a treat to see his granddaughter Clara again, not having seen her since shortly after her birth. Living in the United States prevented him from seeing her and Charlie regularly, so he relished the opportunity to see and hold her while she was still so small. He was also happy to see that after five months her eyes still had the same lovely shade of blue as her mother’s, his only grandchild to have different colored eyes. As the baby quieted down again, he nodded to his son. “Keep going mijo.”

Matty nodded somberly, downing his cup of coffee and handing it over for Imelda to refill. He nervously fidgeted with the polished knob of his cane, a necessity for his damaged leg, and shook his head with intense remorse.

“It was an old truck backfiring.” Matty said quietly. “It was so loud and sudden, especially on a quiet street. We were just walking to the park, talking amongst ourselves, and then ‘bang!’… Dios, it took just a millisecond. At that moment I wasn’t in Houston anymore, I swear all I could see was smoke and all I could smell was mud and decay and-…I just reacted.”

“The next thing I knew Charlie was underneath me, and he was screaming… I was frozen, just watching my son scream in pain, until Wanda was shouting ‘Get off of him Matt! Get off of him!’… Wanda rode with him in the ambulance, and she took the baby too, because I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t touch him for days, I just felt so sick with what I had done to my little boy. Not even five years old and I had broken his arm. I tackled my son, trying to protect him by reflex, and I broke his pinche arm. Dios, Wanda was holding our newborn daughter at the time, if it had been them that I-!”

“Shh…” Imelda hushed him, rubbing his white knuckled grip on his cane until his fingers loosened. “But you didn’t. They’re both fine, and so is Charlie. They all know that you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Matty nodded shakily, smiling at his mother in thanks. “Yeah… Yeah, I know. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that, but my therapist says that line of thinking is normal for someone with my condition. I’m trying to get better-”

“You’re seeing a shrink?” Héctor asked, his brow furrowing to show his confusion and slight aversion to the very idea. “But why? Everything turned out alright, Charlie’s arm is better. It’s fine.”

“No, Papá, it’s not fine. In fact, it hasn’t been fine for a very long time for me.” Matty said. “Over the years a lot of things have bothered me. Certain smells trigger images in my mind, I can’t stand the sound of fireworks, even low flying planes make me freeze up and panic. I’ve been dealing with it for years by simply avoiding it, like not accompanying my family for Fourth of July picnics or other situations where these triggers might occur. But this last incident made me realize that I can’t avoid the unpredictable.”

Héctor still looked uncertain as Matty spoke, but Imelda nodded encouragingly for him to continue.

“Wanda recommended a therapist from the hospital she works at. He’s good, Papá. He diagnosed me with shell-shock, something that a lot of former soldiers get so it’s not just me. But that's not all. He says my triggers go all the way back to Leti’s death, how it still affects my emotions and my interactions with my family to this day. I’m sure you all already know about that, but I didn’t really see it until he spelled it out for me. That I sometimes hurt them, and you guys, unintentionally. That I’m somewhat, well… emotionally stunted. But he’s been helping me a great deal. I feel like I’m making progress so far.”

“That’s wonderful, mijo.” Imelda said, leaning over to kiss his cheek and grimacing at the scratchiness of it. “Maybe your therapist can convince you to shave as well.”

“I can’t.” Matty laughed, running his fingers down his goatee and grateful for the well-intentioned nagging to lighten the mood. “Last time I did Charlie cried for a whole day; thought I was a stranger instead of his Daddy. I’d hate to do that to Clara as well.”

Héctor cleared his throat uncomfortably, then turned his attention back to the baby in his arms. “Sí, well good for you mijo. If you think that’s what you need then I’m happy for you. And this little girl is happy too. Aren’t you, cileita? Look at Abuelito. Ay, que lindaaa…”

As Héctor babbled and cooed at the baby, he didn’t notice that Matty and Imelda exchanged worried glances at each other. He continued until Matty cleared his own throat to get his attention, and his smile faded when he saw the two of them staring intently at him. “What?”

Standing up and walking with the aid of the cane, Matty reached out an arm and gently took his daughter out of Héctor’s hold. “Um, Papá… What I just told you about my struggles… Didn’t that seem at all, I don’t know… Familiar to you in any way?”

Héctor blinked dumbly at that, starting to not like how Imelda was starting to look sad as she stared at him. “No?”

Matty huffed out a sigh. “Come on, Papá. You must see where I’m coming from: Triggers that upset you, make you angry and in turn upset everyone around you? Avoidance of certain stimuli, to the point of outright banning it? Do you understand?”

“Oh… Oh!” Héctor laughed out, relieved. “Oh, I understand what you’re saying now. The music thing. Listen, it’s just not my kind of thing anymore. I know I owe a great deal to it, that the whole family does, but it’s time to move on. There’s more to our business than music, you know. There’s the hospitals, the schools, the canning factories, and of course the shoe business that you have turned into an empire all by yourself, my clever boy. Did I hear that they’re going to be on almost every athlete’s feet in the Olympics next year?”

“Please don’t change the subject, Papá.” Matty said in exasperation. “It’s not like you don’t care for music anymore Papá. You can’t stand it. You’re afraid of it.”

Héctor smiled, again a little too widely, and patted his son’s shoulder. “You think that- Ay yi yi, such a sweet boy, thinking about your Papá like that. Well you don’t have to worry about me, Matty.”

“Papá, you don’t listen to music. You don’t want anyone to listen to music. You’re avoiding it because it’s a trigger! And the thing about triggers is sometimes you can’t avoid them. If you don’t prepare yourself you could end up hurting yourself or worse: someone you love!”

“I don’t have what you have, Mateo. That, uh-… shell-shock, right? No, I don’t have it. I’m not a soldier, this is completely different.”

“It doesn’t always have to be about fighting in a war Papá.” Matty explained. “It can be caused by a very traumatic event that you witness. And I can’t think of anything more traumatic than watching your best friend-”

“I do not… have… shell shock!” Héctor snapped, pointing a finger to both his son and his wife. “We don’t need music, we’ve gone nine years without it, and we’re fine. I don’t avoid it, I just don’t like it anymore. I’m not like you, alright?! I don’t need help! I don’t need a shrink! I’m not crazy!”

“Héctor!”

At his wife’s hissing voice Héctor stopped his tirade in shock. Clara was crying in her father’s arms, deeply disturbed that the sweet old man who had held her before was now loud and scary. And Matty looked at his father, jaw clenched and eyes downcast. His throat bobbed a few times and Héctor saw his lips tremble a little before he looked up to glare at his father.

“You think… I’m crazy, Papá?”

“No!” Héctor gasped, placing his hands gently on his son. “Oh no, not you mijo, no�� You’re uh… a special case. You have a condition, si? Happens to soldiers all the time, like you said right? If it makes you feel better than I’m all for it! You go to your shrink, and-”

“It’s therapist, Héctor.” Imelda said harshly, glaring at him as she moved to stand next to her son. “Not shrink. You say it like it’s a disease.”

Héctor sagged, not looking either of them in the eye anymore. “Therapist, right…”

Not liking how the fun visit with his son and granddaughter had turned so toxic and claustrophobic so fast, Héctor inched his way out the door to make a hasty retreat. “Listen, I think we need to just forget about this, so I’ll just leave for a while. I’m gonna go to the house- I mean… the museum. Get it all ready for the party tomorrow. That’s why you’re here, right Matty? Gotta make it a special day for your brother! Okay, I’ll see you later!”

As they both watched Héctor race towards the garage in an effort to get as far away and as fast as possible, Matty soothed his daughter back into an easy slumber and mumbled softly. “I’m here for my sister too… Guess he’s avoiding that as well…”

“I’m so sorry, Mateo.” Imelda hugged her son close and rubbed his back. “He didn’t mean to upset you. I know you tried to help, but he needs to want to be helped, claro?”

“He’s only getting worse Mamá.”

Imelda shook her head. “He’s not usually this bad. He has his good days more than his bad. It’s just that this time of year is so hard on him, you understand right? It was a terrible day for all of us, but even more so for your father. It nearly destroyed him.”

“I just wanted to help him. Help all of us… At least I tried.”

“Yes you did. It will be alright, mijo.” She smoothed back his hair and took the sleeping baby from his arms to give her a kiss. “Let’s change the subject, sí? I want to know all about your plans for Helsinki next year! How many pairs of shoes are we talking about?”

Matty smiled softly at his mother, letting her drag him into a boring, yet calming, conversation about shoes once again to soothe the pain of his father’s words. As he and Imelda talked about the Olympics next year, the upcoming winter catalogue, the demand to not smoke in the kitchen, and the vague plans of expanding to include a clothing line in the upcoming future, things seemed to fall back into a relative peace. There was still hurt there in Héctor’s heart, but nothing they couldn’t overcome as a family.

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?

-----

As Victoria put away her pointe shoes into it’s shoe box she looked up to see Miguel staring at the contest poster.

Again.

For probably the billionth time within the last hour.

Her Mamá’s surprise had really put a damper on their little practice session, and soon even Charlie had grown bored with the lack of guitar playing from his tío and had gone off to play with Elena instead. Miguel just sat and stared at the poster with that dumb grin on his face, tracing the letters and illustrations with reverence like he did with all his other de la Cruz memorabilia.

But even if she felt like she didn’t get enough practice in, Victoria found that she didn’t really mind it in the slightest. She could see Miguel already going through the performance in his head, his eyes closing momentarily as if basking in applause that only he could hear. Then he’d continue to look at the poster and the process would repeat.

It was dumb, but Victoria was glad. It was about time Miguel was excited about something for his birthday. She couldn’t wait to see the performance herself. And maybe, hopefully, this would be a stepping stone for her. Maybe she would one day get to perform on stage, maybe even get a real teacher. Share a stage with her ballet idols. It was exciting to think about, but for now she would just be happy for Miguel.

“So, musico…” Victoria hummed, smiling when Miguel dumbly broke free from his trance to look at her. “What are you going to play tomorrow?”

With an excited grin, Miguel looked at the poster again and nodded to himself. Confidently. Assuredly. “Definitely Remember Me!”

Victoria sighed. “Why did I even ask?”

#somos familia #coco fanfiction #miguel rivera #Hector Rivera #mama coco #mama imelda #pixar coco #coco pixar #why did it take so long to write this?#because it was mostly exposition for what's to come #and that always sucks

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madison02me · 5 years

Text

Our Greatest Adventure Yet

A prequel to my other fic, Reunited. Hope you guys like

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524296

Reunited link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453522

Summary: It was a normal day for Eugene. He was hungry and had no money. Well, it looked like it was that time again.

Time for some pickpocketing.

He never thought that it would be the day that he would meet his future parents, let alone them be two guys.

Eugene was hungry. No, hungry wasn't the right word. He was utterly starving. But had already had breakfast at the orphanage, if you could call the slop they serve breakfast. He knew that the staff who worked there tried the hardest they could to feed everyone, but they couldn't make something at least edible?

Not to mention that he had given half of his share of food to one of the younger kids because one of the bigger bullies had stolen his. He would have got it back for the kid if the bully hadn't already scarfed it down like the pig he was, so he gave away half his own and made up an excuse of not being hungry. The look on the little guy's made him feel good inside but it did nothing to quell his growling stomach. Well, looks like it's that time again.

Time to do some pickpocketing.

Eugene got up from his sitting position against the stone wall of the orphanage and let his face break into a small grin. Eugene loved the rush of pickpocketing, he had never been caught, even on his first try. Though it might have had something to do with the fact that the guy was drunk...and asleep but it didn't matter to Eugene. To him, he was living out the life of his Hero Flynn Rider. A dashing swashbuckler who had an abundance of thrilling adventures wherever he went and besides it wasn't like the money was going to be put to waste. He just needed enough to buy an apple or something which was 2 coins at most and if he so happened to grab more than two coins, why not buy some more food for some of the other kids?

Eugene stuck his hands in pockets and walked down an almost hidden alleyway that would lead to the main market place; where there were so many people that going unnoticed was almost too easy. But when he turned a corner he quickly jumped back behind and pressed his body against the cool brick wall, he waited before peeking around the corner to get a better look at what made him jump back, he saw that there were already two men with their backs facing Eugene near the exit of the ally who stood behind some large crates before they quickly ducked them as the sound of people running drew near. He didn't have time to think before he saw some guards running past the ally but one came back and looked down, Eugene hid behind the wall as he held his breath, hoping that the guard would just move on.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a deep voice in an accent he didn't reorganise from around the corner. "Ok, I think they're gone." He heard another voice let out a relieved sigh before speaking. "That was too close..."

"Don't be so dramatic Tulio, we got away and with the gold no less!" The first voice piped up once again.

"Yeah, which we would have more than if you hadn't distracted me."

"What are you talking about? The deal was that I would play and you would gamble, you were the one who got caught with those dice of yours. I was smart enough to put all my earnings in my bag, while you scrambled to get what you could."

"Don't you dare act innocent, you distracted me with those eyes again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. What about my eyes detracts you?~"

"Y-You, you know exactly what they do to me..."

"Well, elaborate Darling, I'm not a mind reader~."

"M-Miguel, Stop. We'll get caught."

"No one can see us, you worry too much."

Eugene was enraptured by the two men's conversation, it went from bickering to flirting almost no time. It was a common occurrence for Eugene to see people flirting, hugging or even kissing in the streets but has never been two men before. Nuns come to the orphanage and talk to all the kids there about what they should do if they wanted to go to heaven, Eugene doesn't actually believe in any of that stuff but he would never tell the Nun's that, but one thing that was always very strongly against was what the Nun's called Homosexuality. It was a wired lecture and lots of the little kids couldn't even say the word but they explained as 'To love a man love another man as they should love a woman is a sin, an abomination, they have the devils blood in them and they are all pure evil'. Eugene wasn't sure if that was true, he always thought that Love was a good thing and it couldn't be wrong no matter what.

The more he thought about it, the more curious he got. So he slowly poked his head around the corner before turning back at almost lightning speed, his face scarlet red. One of the men, who was wearing a red shirt and had golden blond hair was holding the other man, who had dark hair and a blue shirt up against one of the crates, with their arms warped around each other and one of the dark-haired man's legs were loosely wrapped around the blond's waist. They were clearly kissing. Eugene was a little grossed out at first then he thought about the conversation that the men had just had, they mentioned they had Gold, a whole bag of it.

Eugene had no idea where they got the money but they wouldn't notice a few coins missing would they? Sneaking a peek at the two, they were still very preoccupied with each other but another thing caught his attention, a bag that was hanging off the blonde man's shoulder and he could just see a glint of something shiny. 'Jackpot!' Eugene thought in his head.

It wouldn't be too hard to sneak up, get a handful of coins and then sneak away and/or run away. At least that's what Eugene thought.

Eugene then began to creep forward on his tiptoes, keeping an eye on the two men. He smiled a little smugly as he noticed that the two individuals were too invested in each other to notice anything going on around them, he slowly reached up for the bag and grabbed as many of the small coins in his little fist as he could, hoping that the slight clinking noise of the gold wouldn't draw their attention as he pulled his had back gradually.

Eugene thought that he was in the clear, that he had committed the perfect crime, he and the other kids would be eating good tonight!

... That was until he felt a sturdy grip on his wrist.

Eugene squealed in fright and he looked up to see both of the men had stopped and now we're currently standing over him, looking down at him. "What do you think you're doing kid?" The one with intense blue eyes asked as he kept a firm grip on Eugene's wrist.

The coins dropped from Eugene's hand as he felt his face grow hot and his eyes stung as fresh tears weld up in them. Eugene was at a loss of what to do, he had never been caught before. He had overheard what people did to thieves, he heard that they cut their hands off. He tried weakly to pull his arm free but he knew it was no use, he was a goner.

Eugene let out a sob as he pleaded, "Please don't cut my hands off. I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Please, don't hurt me." Eugene cried his little heart out, he was stupid to think that he could steal from these too, he knew it was risky but he tried anyway, now he was going to pay for it.

He was no Flynn Rider, he was just a dumb kid...

"Cut your hands off? That's a little extreme don't you think? Oh come on now, don't cry. We're sorry we scared you." Eugene was more than surprised when he heard the comforting voice and a hand his shoulder. He looked up to see grass-green eyes, full of warmth.

The same man was crouched to Eugene's level, he then reached his other hand up. Eugene flinched back and closed his eyes, expecting a slap to the face but what he got instead was a slightly callused hand brushing the tears from his cheeks When the man pulled his hand back Eugene rubbed his eyes against his wrist to clear his vision and look up at the two men. Now that his vision was clear in the men were right in front of him, he could get a good look at the men who had caught him.

The one in front of him was average height, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair and green eyes. He had a muscular and toned body. He had a beard that seemed to be darker than his blonde hair. His outfit consisted of his a red loose tunic, khaki pants and brown shoes. He looked somewhere between his late 20s or early 30s.

"What's your name kid?" The man who still had a group on Eugene's wrist asked. Eugene then looked the other male up and down.

The other man was tall and slender with blue eyes. He had long, wavy black hair, tied back with a purple ribbon in a low ponytail, and a goatee. He wore a blue collared long-sleeved shirt under a brown vest, green pant's with a black belt with a golden buckle on a black belt, and brown shoes. The man appeared to be in his mid-20s to early 30s.

"U-uh, um... E-Eugene... My name is Eugene." Eugene answered. "Y-your not gonna cut my hands off?"

The black-haired man rolled his eyes, letting go of Eugen's arm and proceeded to talk with his hands. "Kid, that just something the church tell you to get you to behave. No one cuts off hands any more. The worst you will get if your caught stealing is either your killed or you get a beating, it depends on who you steal from and what you steal."

The blond then stood up and swatted the other. "Tulio! Don't tell him that!"

"Well, do you want me to be honest or do you want me to lie to the kid, he needs to learn now or he'll get himself hurt or worse."

"You could have said it a little better, he's just a child."

"So were we when we set off on our own. We were lucky, he might not be.

Eugene again watched the two argue, "Wh-What are your names'?" Eugene wanted to know who these men were and what they planned to do with him.

The two ceased their fighting and once again looked down at him.

"Oh right, well I am Miguel and this is Tulio." The blonde- no, Miguel said as he gestured to himself and then Tulio.

"... Really?" Eugene asked.

"Huh?" Tulio replied. "Yeah, that's our names. What about them?"

"Those names are wired and what up with your voices, why do you guys sound like that?"

"Oh! Well, you see we're from Spain. Ever heard of Spain?" Miguel said as he leaned down slightly. Eugene shook his head, he didn't know much about the world outside of Corona. "Well, in Spain we speak a different language called Spanish, that is why we have these strange accents."

"Our names are Spanish too. Our names are considered common there, to use your names is weird, what kind of name is Eugene anyway?," Tulio followed along with the conversation, only to get another swot from Miguel. "What? Don't tell me it doesn't sound weird to you?"

Eugene wanted to be offended but he didn't like his name that much so he agreed with Tulio.

"No, you're right, it's a dumb name anyway. If I could I'd change it. to something cooler" Eugene said as he stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking some gravel around.

The two men exchanged a look before Tulio let out an almost inaudible sigh and leaned down to Eugene's level, "Well, why don't you?"

At the question, the boy perked his head up. "Huh?"

"If you could have any name, any name at all, what would it be?"

Eugene didn't even need to think. "Flynn Rider!"

Tulio arched an eyebrow, "Flynn Rider? Like the guy in the book?"

Eugene was surprised that Tulio knew of his favourite book of all time. "Yeah, him! He's my favourite character of all time! I want to be just like him. I just wish I could read the book myself, I always have to ask someone else to."

"What? You can't read? Haven't your parents taught you how to yet?"

Eugene fell silent and his gaze found the ground refusing to look the dark-haired male in the eye. For a few moments, there was utter stillness, even the sounds of the nearby market couldn't break through the silent ally.

"... You're not out living on the streets are you kid?" Tulio said in a slow but soft tone. Eugene shook his head and pointed at the opposite entrance of the ally.

"No, I live in that orphanage over there. But they don't have the time to teach anyone to read, there just too many."

Miguel, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation suddenly sprang forward, wrapping an arm around Tulio shoulder.

"Tulio could teach you! He taught me how to, so you should be no problem." The blond said with a huge grin on his face, not understanding the impact of the statement he had made.

"Uh, no, no, no! Miguel, we've talked about this. The little voice, remember?" Tulio said as he stepped back, removing Miguel's arm from his shoulder, making frantic hand movements as he talked, "Come on, I know you have one, you just never listen to it. What is it saying right now?

The blonde paused, looked thoughtful for a few moments before speaking, "You're right. We should bond first, you like ice cream, Eugene?"

At the very mention of ice cream, Eugene was willing to accept the wired situation that he had been up into, he had never had ice cream before but he had heard about it from other kids.

"I don't know but I wanna try some!" He didn't know how the treated tasted but he somehow knew that he would love it.

"Miguel, oh dios mio. No podemos tomar este niño por helado, ¡no eran sus padres!" Tulio said as he grabbed onto Miguel sleave, stopping him in his tracks.

Eugene's face melted from exhilarated to deeply confused, he couldn't understand a word that Tulio was saying. This must have been how they talk where they came from.

"Bueno, si no quieres helado, está bien, pero no lo arruines. Puede ser el único regalo que recibirá." Migule fired back as he glanced to Eugene then back to his partner. There was a breaif silence before Tulio let out an annoyed sigh. "Bien, bien... Just stop with the face. Come on kid, let's get this over with."

Eugene watched the man start to walk away before stopping at the exit to the ally before looking both left and right, Tulio was probably looking for any guards that would still be patrolling the area. "It's clear, now come on before we get caught again."

Eugene didn't move a muscle, he just looked up at Miguel, who was staring down at him. "What's the matter? Don't you want any ice cream?"

Eugene was embarrassed about what he was about to ask, "Can I hold your hand?... Please?" Eugene didn't want to get separated from the two men and the market was always super crowded.

Eugene could have sworn that he saw Miguel's eyes well up before he smiled the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Why of course, but I can do better!" Eugene didn't have an opportunity to ask what he meant before he was being swept off of the ground by Miguel's strong hands. He let out a screech of shock that moulded into fits of laughter as he was lifted onto the blond man's shoulders.

Tulio could only watch as his partner lifted the little boy onto his shoulders, his face breaking out into a fond smile as he watched the two. He knew that Miguel had a huge soft spot for children, especially the poor ones since he grew up in that environment. Tulio was not as fond of children as Miguel was but he didn't discourage Miguel's enthusiasm or stop him, he knew that Miguel had always wanted children of his own, sometimes he would spend whole days just talking about what he would do if he and Tulio had one, what they would look like, what he would teach them and who they might grow up to be... But they both knew that could never have one.

Tulio had confessed to Miguel before that he always felt a little guilty for not being able to give him the family he always wanted, Miguel comforted him and told him that he would always be enough for him no matter what, that he was the only family that he needed. It was an incredibly emotional night for both of them, Tulio never forgot his words but he also never failed to notice how Miguel would look at young children with their parents without longing who look in his eye.

Maybe having the little brat around be good for both of them.

"Hey, come on you two! We only have so much daylight left," he called to them "The last one there's a Pendejo!" he yelled to them before he took off running.

"Oh no, you don't!" Miguel called after the taller man as he also took off running after Tulio.

"Yeah! Come on Miguel, let's get him!" Eugene said as he leaned down to the one man's ear. "What's a Pendejo?"

Miguel cringed a little, "Uh, you don't need to know..."

----- Eugene was 100% positive this has been the best day of his life. Tulio was surprisingly fast I knew she was a little disappointed when he found out that he had beaten them to the Ice Cream cart that was parked in the middle of the market but it was OK since Tulio gave him the chance to pick a flavour first. There were so many flavours that Eugene didn't know what to choose before he settled on one named 'Rocky Road'. Miguel chose strawberry and Tulio chose blueberry.

While they were enjoying their frozen treats, Miguel insisted on telling him a story. A story in which he and Tulio were accidentally mistaken for God's in a legendary city made of gold. Eugene was hanging on every word that the blonde said, he had heard of the mythical city of El Dorado but he never thought it was real. He said he wanted to find himself but Tulio told him not to bother, as they had sealed the entrance to keep away greedy people who only wanted to destroy it, Eugene was a bit disappointed that he missed out on an amazing adventure but the way that Miguel told it to him, it was like he was there the whole time.

They also talked about a woman named Chel, how she had helped them get through the situation that they had put themselves into you without being caught and sacrificed by the evil Tzekel-Kan, who also led the greedy people back to his home, thinking they were the gods that he was looking for. They spoke very fondly of Chel, how they were the Three Amigos for almost a year until they came across a great Empire with a young emperor took an interest in her and she took interest in him. The three parted ways after her and the emperor got married, he could tell that they miss her very much and that she means a lot to the two. Eugene wishes he could have met her, been with them on their amazing adventures.

After the story was done, Eugene wanted to know more about the two men. He learnt that the reason the two had been hiding in the ally in the first place, was because they had been caught gambling in the streets with loaded dice, they had performed a fake duel, to distract the crowd while they got close enough away to run and had ducked into the alley to hide.

It was also then that Miguel pulled out a strange instrument that Eugene had never seen before, Miguel called it a mandolin, a very popular instrument in Spain where he came from. He then started to play it, it was like nothing Eugene had ever heard before. It started softly before the tune got more upbeat and he started to dance to his music, Eugene then followed, it took a little convincing but Tulio eventually danced with them as well. He danced differently, it was mostly made up of hand clapping, percussive footwork, intricate hand, arm, and body movements. Eugene tried to follow to Tulio's example but he just ended up tripping on its own feet, he expected the dark-haired man to laugh at him but he just picked him up and showed him the moves; he wasn't perfect but at least he didn't trip up anymore.

It wasn't until he noticed that it was getting dark that he even thought of going back to the orphanage. Eugene didn't want too but he knew that he would get in trouble if he didn't.

"It's getting kind of dark, I should be getting back now..." Eugene said as the three of them walked through the streets of Corona. Eugene could tell by the looks on the two men's faces that they too were apprehensive and disappointed to hear this.

"Yeah, it does seem to be getting kind of late. We'll walk you back, things can get pretty dangerous on the streets at night kid, it's never safe to go alone." Tulio said as he absentmindedly grabbed the young boy's hand, keeping it in a soft but firm grip.

"Did you have fun today?" Miguel asked as he gently ruffled Eugene's hair before grabbing his other hand.

"Oh yeah! Today has been the best day of my life! I don't think anything could make it better, you guys are fun. I wish I could hang out with you guys all the time, you're not like any of the other adults around here. They always look at me either with disgust or like they're sorry for me. I don't want them to feel sorry for me, if they feel so sorry for me why don't they help me or any of the other kids at the orphanage? I just don't understand the world..." Eugene ranted as the three of them strolled down a familiar alleyway.

The two older men stayed quiet while they listened to the child, they understood exactly what he meant.

"I'm sorry son, I wish the world was simpler, I really do. But unfortunately, there's nothing you can do about it, sometimes to make it in this world you have to do things that you don't want to or do things that aren't technically legal." Miguel said softly as he rubbed Eugene's hand with his thumb.

"That's what I and Miguel do have to do, being criminals is no fun, conning people is dangerous and we always have to worry about people finding out that we're together. Plain and simple kid, the world sucks. But if you find people that truly care about you, people that would do anything for you to keep you safe and happy, then the world doesn't seem so bad sometimes." Tulio said in an earnest honest voice as he gripped Eugene's hand a little tighter.

"...I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." It was the only thing that Eugene could think to say as he listened to the wise word of two people beaten down by the world but just kept getting back up because they had each other to lean on.

Eugene hoped that one day he could have a relationship like the two men before him.

The three of them soon stopped at the entrance to the orphanage, none of them made an effort to let go of each other. Miguel was the first one to make a move but he did not let go of the child's hand, he leaned down on one leg and looked Eugene in the eyes.

"Here," Miguel said as he brought up a small leather pouch and held it out to Eugene. "we want you to have this." Eugene and slowly let go of the blonde hand and took the pouch, he didn't even have to look inside of it to know that it was full of coins. "I don't understand, why are you giving this to me?" Eugene asked in a small hesitant tone, this had to be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. Miguel did not answer him, he did not need to answer as he felt Eugene already knew why.

Eugene could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He then felt a hand on his shoulder, you looked up to see to that Tulio had also leaned down, with a gaze full of warmth. "Hey kid, if you really want, I can teach you to read." It was then that Eugene remembered that there was the whole reason that he had gone with the two men in the first place, he had completely forgotten.

"Really? Do you promise?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"I promise next time we meet I'll teach you to read that book. If you promise to bring it to me." Tulio said in a lightly teasing tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. I won't forget I swear!" Eugene said slightly excited, learning to read never really appealed to him before but if he was going to be taught by Tulio then he would be glad to.

"Would you like to see us tomorrow? Same time early morning?" Miguel questioned. Like he even needed to ask.

"Yeah! Can we meet in the alleyway? I'll bring the book and everything." Eugene just couldn't explain why he felt such a connection with these two men that he had known for less than 24-hours.

"Well then, that's settled. We'll see you tomorrow Eugene, sweet dreams." Migule said as he brought the child in for a hug, Eugene didn't hesitate to hug the blond man back. When he let go he quickly turned and hugged Tulio, who hesitated somewhat out of shock before hugging him back.

The hug lasted about a minute before Eugene pulled back and walked up the steps of the orphanage, as he opened the door to walk inside he looked back to find the two men with their arms around each other waving goodbye at him, it made Eugene's heart swell and he waved back at Miguel and Tulio before shutting the door.

#Road To El Dorado #miguel and tulio #miguel #tulio #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled #tangled eugene #tangled crossover #Migulio #Tulio and Miguel

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1989dreamer · 4 years

Text

In Your Little Werewolf Oven

On AO3

Summary: Danny moves to New York City and ends up opening a bakery called Little Werewolf Oven and most of his clientele ends up being supernatural.

As his reputation grows, Danny finds himself overwhelmed, so he advertises a position and gets not one, but two blasts from the past in the form of Derek Hale and his boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski.

Things work out great for Danny because now, not only does he have more time to do the things he wants, but he also meets his future husband through Derek and Stiles.

Life couldn’t be greater, Danny thinks.

Note: Andrew Erickson would be played by Aldis Hodge if on screen.

Main relationship: Danny/Andrew

Background relationship: Derek/Stiles

~ * ~

Danny makes his break with Beacon Hills when he chooses colleges. He graduates high school a semester early and then heads out.

No one even notices that he’s gone.

Well, no one except cousin Miguel who asks if he feels safe, if he thinks he needs help with the supernatural, and if he wants to keep in touch.

Yes, no, and not really.

Derek Hale is simultaneously the kindest and most fearsome person Danny knows. Mostly because there was a rumor floating around school before he left that Derek had killed both his uncle and a junior at the high school, Vernon Boyd, the third. Well, the uncle was still alive, but Boyd wasn’t, so Danny kindly turns down Derek’s offer of protection and then promptly fucks off to the other side of the country, hoping the distance will be enough.

And it is. For seven years. Long enough to get two bachelor’s in science, physiology and computer science, and to accidentally walk into a cooking class and end up in culinary school just so he can open his own bakery.

He is a bona fide business owner now.

He has no one working for him, so he is only open five hours a day and the rest of his time is spent baking.

It is, in a word, exhausting, but it is his work and it makes him happy.

Business is good for about three months, and then some big name celebrity comes through, orders some of his haupia—which he only made because it was easy and he could set it aside once it was done and not worry about it—and raves about it online.

After that, there is no peace.

Danny can’t get anything done aside from baking and making haupia, and he becomes despondent, trudging from one minute to the next, not even enough time or energy to swipe right on his dating app.

Yes. While Danny was in college, he had also taken time to create a new dating app for LGBTQ+ people. He has gone on a few dates using the app, and the experience is far superior to Grindr or just meeting someone at a bar. But now he doesn’t even have time for that.

He is horny and tired and he really needs help.

Well. Online applications are a thing. So, all he has to do is find three minutes to post something. He finds the time the next morning during breakfast, so he types up a job requirement and application and posts it.

By that afternoon, he has sixty-some applicants.

Okay. So it will take more than three minutes this time.

Great.

~ * ~

Three weeks later, Danny still hasn’t sifted through all the applications. He is desperate, yes, but also too busy. It would be nice if he can just point at someone and assign them to work with him.

He has, however, managed to make an update to his app, and has received favorable feedback. So, while he is still unable to take a moment to breathe, at least he has money to hire someone to go through the applications for the bakery.

It’s a selkie named Ryliegh, visiting her cousin who lives in the apartment across the hall from him, and she is fantastic at everything except baking.

Danny feels a little more at ease with her watching his back. His store, while crowded with humans of every shape, size, and color, is also filled to the brim with supernatural beings who like to take pictures with the bakery’s sign, get something to go, and then hang out on the minimal furniture Danny had grudgingly added a few months back to compete with the Starbucks two blocks away from him.

Why he is a supernatural draw, Danny doesn’t know. Could be the sign.

There are very few things Danny has kept from his life in Beacon Hills, but a stage-whispered conversation between Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall made the list, and his bakery is named Little Werewolf Oven.

Anyway. Danny views the supernatural as closeted. They don’t want the world to know they exist because the world would respond negatively. Hell, the first week he’d been open, a hunter had stopped by to ask him about the sign, and Danny had pretended to be obsessed with Jacob from Twilight—not that Taylor Lautner isn’t a hotty-mchotty who Danny had actually crushed on for a quick minute.

After the hunter left, it had taken everything in him to 1) not call Derek Hale to come make sure he was okay (not having Derek’s number helped) and 2) to remain open. What if the hunters came into his bakery all the time? They seemed set in their ways, and he knew it wouldn’t just be the supernatural population that was in danger. He himself might be targeted for “being different.”

Anyway. That hunter hasn’t come back nor has he told his friends about Danny, and so the supernatural and LGBTQ+ populations have claimed him.

And then Danny made haupia and never has peace anyway.

~ * ~

Ryleigh corners him a month after he hired her and slaps a stack of papers into his chest.

“What’s this?” he asks, amused if a little sad that they had reverted to this non-technological way of doing things. It’s so much easier to look at his phone than to read physical texts.

“Reviews,” Ryleigh says. “And an application. I suggest you hire him. He’s perfect.”

“Reviews of what?” Danny flips through the stack quickly. Ah, the bakery. It is now officially on some site that directs tourists around. Great. He is going to be swamped.

Then suddenly, in the middle of the stack is a job application, generic, hand-filled. Pretty script. Neat words. Derek Hale.

Danny drops the papers.

“What?” Ryleigh demands. “What’s wrong?”

“I know this guy.” Danny picks up Derek’s resume. On paper, Derek does sound perfect. And he even has work experience in a bakery. Who knew?

“Is he bad?” Ryleigh asks.

“Not exactly,” Danny replies, still studying Derek’s skills. “In fact, why don’t you give him a call, see if he can make it in for a test run soon.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ryleigh wanders away, phone already on her ear. Danny picks up the rest of the reviews and sticks them in his office for when he, maybe, will have time to read them. Some of them look so sweet.

For now, though, someone’s gotta make more haupia because someone announced, on their social media no less, with about 10,000 followers, that tomorrow is the official day of the week that they will have it.

Well. At least it’s just one day a week. Danny can deal with one day.

~ * ~

Derek Hale returns Ryleigh’s call by the following afternoon, and she patches in Danny so they can talk.

“How soon can you start?” Danny asks, prepared for anything from a week to a month.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Derek asks instead, and Danny can’t believe his good fortune.

“Sure, yeah,” he says, and then realizes he sounds desperate. Well he is, so fuck it. “Okay, Derek, you’re hired. Just bring in your social security card, driver’s license, and a bank account number with routing information so that I can direct deposit your paycheck.”

“Wonderful,” Derek deadpans. “See you tomorrow.”

Ryleigh gives him a thumbs up before she heads out for her night class. She’s taking computer science because she likes designing mobile games. Danny supports her wholeheartedly except he never downloads her apps. He doesn’t need the distraction. He still doesn’t have any time for dates, much less wasting time on his phone.

Derek will be such a relief. Too bad it isn’t tomorrow yet.

Whatever. Sleeves up. Maybe if he gets done before 9:00 pm, he can treat himself to that new Italian fine dining restaurant that opened around the corner from his apartment building.

~ * ~

Derek is already at the bakery by the time Danny rolls in at 6:00 am. The Italian was delicious last night, and Danny’s in a good mood which only gets better when he starts showing Derek the ropes. Derek is easy to train and easy-going. He has a bit of sharp wit that comes out when he’s not guarding it, and Danny feels honored that he gets to see it.

Derek’s smile is quick and easy. Danny doesn’t ever remember seeing it in Beacon Hills.

“So why’d you leave Beacon Hills?” he asks once he’s made up an employee file for Derek, noting that although it’s good, his license is fake. “And how old are you anyway?”

Derek rolls his shoulders. “Beacon Hills got too small,” he says, tightly. “The Argents no longer have jurisdiction over hunters there, so another hunting regime moved in. And I’m 28.”

“Yeah? Why does your I.D. say you’re thirty then?”

Derek refuses to make eye contact when he says, “Since my birth certificate was destroyed in the fire, Laura added two years to my age so that she could leave me on my own while she worked. I haven’t changed the I.D. yet because I don’t want to lose that part of her.”

“Understood,” Danny says. “Well, do you have a new I.D.? ‘Cause this one’s about to expire.”

Derek smiles, relief evident in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get that done in a couple of days when Stiles gets here.”

“Stiles is coming here too?” For some reason, Danny thought that if Derek left Beacon Hills, he’d leave everything behind. To bring Stiles is to bring the essence of Beacon Hills.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of rude to leave your boyfriend behind.”

“Boyfriend?!” Danny can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Derek glares at him. “Sorry. I just. I didn’t ever think Stilinski would get a boyfriend. Or laid, for that matter.”

“Yeah, well, he’s excellent in bed.” Derek stiffly turns back to the breads, kneading just a little too hard to be human.

“Easy on that,” Danny warns him. “I don’t need to replace these counters.”

“I don’t need you to hassle my boyfriend,” Derek returns, but he does lighten his touch.

“So, Stiles is coming here. Cool. What’s he going to do?”

Derek shrugs. “Beats me. He got his degree in anthropology and zoology. He’s trying to prove that certain supernaturals evolved as a missing link between humans and some older species. It’s really fascinating, but he loves talking about it, so you’ll probably get a rundown on it if you see him.”

“That sounds cool actually,” Danny says. “Now. Have you ever heard of haupia?”

~ * ~

Stiles does indeed arrive within a couple of days and Derek takes an hour to run to the DMV to update his license.

Then, when they get back, Stiles asks Danny if he still needs help.

Danny looks at the sea of people and then back at Derek and Stiles. “Yes,” he says, and Stiles hands him the same documents he’d asked Derek for.

“All right, you’re hired.”

Stiles grins, tying on an apron and jumping on the register. The line moves quickly, and suddenly the bakery is empty, for the first time in what feels like years.

“Cool,” Danny says. And then heads into his office to read the reviews from Ryleigh.

By the time he surfaces, the bakery is closed, Derek and Stiles have cleaned up, and Derek is prepping for tomorrow while Stiles sits on a stool and chats at him.

“Hey, thanks for coming out here,” Danny tells them. “It’s really awesome that you’re here.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles says, “Beacon Hills kind of imploded on us. Did Derek tell you about the new hunter family that moved in? Right bastards, the lot of them.”

“He’s mad because they saw my eyes and decided that I needed to die.”

“Aren’t you mad about that too?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, that’s where I grew up. But Beacon Hills itself hasn’t been kind to me in a long time. I’ve got friends out here from before I followed my sister back. We’re actually going to meet one of them today.” Derek shares a look with Stiles. “Do you want to come with us?”

“You realize that I’m gay, right?” Danny says. He can’t help giving Derek a knowing look.

Derek snorts. “So is he. Do you want to come with us?”

Danny thinks of his lack of love life and lets it influence his answer. “Yes. I’d like to meet him.”

“Settled then,” Stiles says. “We’re meeting him at that deli on 23rd. His name is Andrew.”

“Are you going to tell me anything else about him?”

“He’s six feet tall, likes to dress well,” Stiles says. “He works as an analyst for a company close by. And he loves your baked goods.”

“So I have already met him?”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “And he thinks you’re cute. He hopes you think he’s cute too.” Then, Derek dusts off his hands, puts away everything, and washes up. “We have about an hour before we’re supposed to meet Andrew.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Danny says, waving them away. They leave, exchanging knowing smirks. Whatever. It’s cool.

It’s a stretch to think he’ll get laid today, but the potential of meeting someone makes Danny a little giddy. He needs a quick shower, a touch up of his cologne, and then maybe he’ll have some time to clean out his inbox.

Oh wow, he has time tonight! Who knew that having employees would make his life so much more manageable.

Anyway. He doesn’t want to be late to meet—or rather, re-meet—Andrew.

~ * ~

Derek and Stiles are standing outside on the sidewalk when Danny comes running up. He’d gotten wrapped up in his emails, unused to having even five minutes to do something like that instead of being too tired to function when he got off work.

“Andrew is already inside,” Derek says, pulling Danny close so he can run a hand over his back, something Danny used to watch him do with his pack before they were forcibly disbanded. Danny shivers under the touch. No lie, if Derek wasn’t with Stiles, Danny would be climbing him like a tree. As it is, he still has to will away a boner.

Derek smiles like he knows what just happened, and Danny shrugs him off.

Then, they walk into the deli. Derek leads the way, heading for a booth tucked near the back, a tall, suited man already sitting there, phone in one hand, the other resting on his head, fingers tangled in his curls. Danny stutters to a stop. He recognizes this man. He was one of the first people to visit the bakery. He’d made some mention of the name, something like, “Reminds of my best friend,” before winking and buying a dozen cookies.

Yeah, he was definitely cute.

“Andrew,” Derek is saying, “this is Danny. Mahealani. I think you’ve met before.”

Andrew looks up, taking in Danny standing there and nods. “Yeah. He’s an awesome baker.”

“And he’s gay,” Stiles remarks, sliding into the booth across from Andrew. Derek waves Danny to the table, and Danny sinks down next to Stiles. Andrew stands up and lets Derek sit so that he’s across from Stiles.

“Danny,” Andrew says, extending a hand, “Andrew Erickson.”

“Pleasure,” Danny says.

“Yes,” Andrew remarks, eyes sparkling. “It is.”

“Shall we order?” Stiles asks. “I’m starving.”

Danny doesn’t know if he’s hungry for food or for affection, but he knows either way, he’ll get what he needs tonight.

~ * ~

The sort of date goes so well that Danny and Andrew walk back to Danny’s apartment together and then spend most of the night talking.

They don’t have sex, but it’s a near thing. Instead, Andrew spends the night on Danny’s couch and they exchange numbers and kisses.

Then, they both drag themselves to their respective jobs the next morning.

Stiles cracks a joke about the walk of shame, and Derek smacks him.

“Go well?” he says, as if he can’t tell. He’s a werewolf. He’d be able to smell if Danny had done anything.

“Yeah, it went really well. I think we could really work out.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Derek hauls Stiles into the kitchen.

Danny is thankful, but Derek and Stiles must have gotten in early because there in nothing for him to do.

Wow. This is going to give him so much time.

“Hey, you realize that you don’t have to do everything, right?” he calls out as he walks into the kitchen. Derek shoots him a blank look accompanied by a thumbs up. “Seriously, you can leave stuff for me to do.”

“Hey, werewolf here,” Stiles says. “He moves at two speeds: fast and faster.”

“Yeah well, you’re making me feel lazy here.”

“When’s the last time you had time to yourself?” Derek asks. When Danny doesn’t answer, Derek points at him. “Exactly.”

Danny looks to Stiles for help, but Stiles just shakes his head.

“Hey, you hired him,” he says. “Which reminds me: do you want me to do anything other than run register?”

Derek shakes his head, so Danny says, “Uh, no? That’s okay, Stiles. You did awesome yesterday. It’s probably going to be that busy again today.”

“That’s good, right?” Stiles asks. “I mean, it means that people like your business.”

“It also means that I can pay you.”

“And go on dates with Andrew,” Derek adds. “By the way, he really enjoyed last night. I think he’s definitely going to ask you out again.”

“Are you going to be okay with me dating your best friend?”

“Yeah. I mean, you and Andrew deserve to be happy. What kind of friend would I be if I got in the way of that? Maybe you’ll break each other’s hearts, but you won’t know unless you follow your path.”

“He’s gotten really Zen lately,” Stiles says. “Sometimes it’s really helpful.”

“Unless your name is Stiles and you don’t like to listen to your boyfriend.”

“I listened, honey. That’s why we’re in New York City.”

“Okay,” Danny interrupts before Derek can respond. “I’m going to go open now. Stiles, you wanna come with?”

“Yeah, sure. See ya, honey-baby-love-of-my-life.” Stiles throws an exaggerated kiss at Derek, who mimes catching it and tucking it into his pocket. It’s cute. Far cuter than Danny would have given either of them credit for seven years ago.

Maybe one day, he and Andrew can be like that.

It’s a goal. But first. Get through today. He needs to do an update for his app, reinforce some firewalls that keep out the bigots. If Derek and Stiles can handle the bakery, then he can get a head start on it. And meet with Ryleigh about financials.

It’s so nice to have employees.

~ * ~

Andrew calls him two days later, on a Sunday, and asks to see him again.

“Been thinking about you a lot.”

“Me too.”

“Can’t wait. Can we meet now?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Cool, let me in.”

“You’re here already?” Danny looks around his apartment, but it’s neat. He’s clean—showered after a run with Derek this afternoon. He even changed the sheets on his bed.

And he remembered to buy condoms when he was at the store earlier.

“Um, sure. Let me just.” Danny throws on a light jacket and jogs down to the street. Andrew grins at him when he pushes the door open for him. They walk back up to Danny’s apartment in silence.

“So, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but do you want to have sex with me?” Danny asks once they’re inside again. Andrew pauses mid-step, shooting a puzzled look at Danny.

“Sex, on the second date?” he asks.

Danny shrugs. “We’re both adults. As long as it’s consensual, why shouldn’t we?”

“Do you think we’re even compatible?” Andrew asks.

“If you’re asking, you’re already thinking about it. Now, I’m vers. How about you?”

“Vers too. I prefer to top with partners on the first time. Is that okay?”

Danny nods. “I was going to play later,” he admits. “So, I’m ready to go. I’ve got lube and condoms in the bedroom. Will you join me?”

Andrew nods, reaching out for Danny’s hand.

He’s reminded sharply of Derek grabbing Stiles’ kiss. “Are we going to be cutesy and couple-y?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Andrew says. “I mean, some partners like it, some don’t. I know I like pet names, but I’m not much for showing affection in public.”

Danny understands. As a gay black man, it has to be harder for Andrew to show his feelings or who he is without being attacked. “We won’t hold hands in public if it bothers you,” he says, “but I do like to call partners sweetheart and love. But not out in public.”

Danny isn’t under any illusions that Beacon Hills was an anomaly and that homophobia is still the norm in many places. He doesn’t like endangering either his partners or himself unnecessarily.

They sit on the bed, and Andrew studies Danny with kind eyes. “So, we’ll be cutesy and couple-y but only in private. Is it okay to walk with you, to stand near you?”

“To be caught looking at me, you mean?” Andrew nods. “Yeah, as long as it’s okay for me to do the same to you.”

“Definitely. So, this lube?”

Danny laughs, pushing at his chest. “Get undressed and I’ll give you a show.”

It certainly is a show when he gets down to it, and the sex is fun, messy, and only sort of good because they need to learn each other, but he doesn’t hate it, and he actually likes the way Andrew curls around him after they’ve cleaned up, and they sleep.

Danny wakes up in the middle of the night, sees Andrew still in his bed, and smiles before going back to sleep.

~ * ~

Derek obviously smells when their relationship changes, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and he doesn’t let Stiles do it either.

In fact, they go on a lot of double dates, and Stiles tells horror stories of the first time he bottomed for Derek.

“Never again,” Stiles sing-songs. “Derek doesn’t mind, do you, honey-bunches?”

“I mind you discussing our sex life,” Derek retorts, “sugar-sweet-on-top.”

They jibe each other often and throughout the day. The customers love it. They also seem to love it when Andrew manages to come in for lunch and he and Danny usually hide in the office.

The bakery does so well with the extra help that Danny hires an additional four people and extends the hours. He also starts making more traditional Hawaiian goods, which go over just as well as the haupia.

Then, suddenly, he looks up to find that he’s been dating Andrew for a year and he knows that he absolutely wants to marry this man. Andrew has already moved in, and his suits don’t look out of place in Danny’s closet.

Everything fits.

There’s some small fights. And once Andrew spent the night at Stiles and Derek’s apartment while they cooled off and reconciled.

But, still, 365 days. Danny definitely knows he wants to plan a proposal, plan a wedding, and spend the rest of his life with the beautiful creature that sleeps in his bed.

To celebrate their anniversary, Danny enlists Derek and Stiles’ help.

Derek whips up more than baked goods, and Danny is thoroughly impressed by the spread he prepares. Everything is on the table, literally. Way too much food for just two people.

Derek sees him eyeing the table. “You know how you’re thinking about implementing a donation of unused foods to the homeless shelters nearby? Yeah, this is the test run.”

“That’s wonderful,” Danny says. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Hey, I helped,” Stiles says, jabbing himself in the chest. “I made some of the dishes.”

Derek nods. “He did. They’re good too. Traditional Polish dishes, like pierogi, pączki, żurek, and naleśniki.”

“Andrew’s had them before,” Stiles points out. “I’ve never cooked for you, so I don’t know if you like them.”

“I’m sure I will.” Danny gives them both grateful hugs. “Thanks so much for doing this for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles and tugging him along as he heads for the door. “Let us know how it goes, yeah?”

He nods and then they’re gone.

Danny swallows hard when he’s all alone. He’s suddenly nervous even though he and Andrew have been together for a year now.

An anniversary dinner is nice, but is it what Andrew wants? Should Danny have purchased a ring? Should he be proposing tonight?

Before he can do much more than worry that he’s not doing this correctly, Andrew steps into the room.

He takes in the table and whistles lowly. “They really know how to cook, eh?” he remarks. “They really support us, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Danny agrees. He hugs Andrew and then pulls out his chair for him. “I haven’t tried Stiles’ cooking, but Derek says it’s good.”

“It is,” Andrew confirms, “although, I can’t pronounce half of what he makes, so he makes fun of me. We can’t all be secret linguistics, like Derek.”

“I’m going to come right out and say this,” Danny says, “I don’t have a ring. I meant to get one, and then I lost track of time.”

“You’ve been really busy,” Andrew agrees. “So I guess it’s a good thing I did get a ring.” He pushes back from the table and drops to his knee, holding a ring box in front of him. “Daniel Mahealani, I love you. I don’t want to spend another day without you, so will you accept this token of my affection and marry me when the time is right?”

Danny slides out of his chair so that he can kneel with Andrew. He picks up the ring and slides it on his finger. “Andrew Erickson, I do accept your ring and give you my promise to marry you when the time is right.”

They stand and sit back at the table.

“Twelve months,” Andrew says. “One whole year. It’s been a great year. And I can’t wait for the rest of the years too.”

“Yeah. That’s.” Danny blows out a breath. “That’s what I want too. I can’t wait for tonight, tomorrow, next week, the rest of our lives.”

“But right now, we have to do something about this spread. Certainly we can’t eat it all.”

“No, the plan apparently was to donate what we don’t eat down at the shelter.”

“Oh,” Andrew says, his smile slow and steady. Danny’s stomach flips a little, anticipating the celebration already even though they have dinner, donating the leftovers, and heading back to the apartment before they can even entertain the notion of sex. “That sounds wonderful.” He studies Danny with a knowing look. “How about we pack something up for later, drop the rest off at the shelter, and head home?”

Danny has to go around the table to kiss him because there’s too much food to lean over the table. But, hey, that’s good. So much food that won’t go to waste.

“I’ll grab some containers. Why don’t you pick out the things you think I should try from Stiles and then we’ll take care of the rest?”

“Divide and conquer,” Andrew says. “That’s why I love you.”

“That and I swallow,” Danny shoots back over his shoulder with a wink.

Andrew lets out a startled laugh. “Just go before you kill me with your quips.”

“I live to please,” Danny returns. “Just you wait.”

It’s hard to wait the two hours it takes to box everything up and deliver it. But somehow, they both survive right until they get into the apartment and the door is locked. Then they crash together, locked at the lips as they put away the food they kept, trying to undress as they move like some awkward, two-bodied creature.

They fall into bed without any injuries, and then proceed to make love at the slowest pace they have ever done so. It’s nice, but Danny is glad that the second round sometime around midnight is faster and more their pace.

Danny falls asleep afterward, sated and beyond happy. He’s got a wedding to plan with his fiancé.

~ * ~

Stiles and Derek get married around Thanksgiving. Danny and Andrew both attend as best men.

It’s the first time in eight years that Danny has seen anyone from back in Beacon Hills, and he is surprised that it isn’t as awkward as he’d thought it would be. For one, Scott doesn’t come. Stiles makes some bullshit excuse, but Danny can see how hurt he is. And another thing, everyone has grown up and matured. Sure they all have a few more scars than he remembers, but for the most part they seem happy.

After, once the vows are exchanged, the grooms kiss, the toasts are done, the food is eaten, the bouquet lovingly handed to Danny by Derek, and the guests gone with the couple departed to their honeymoon, Danny sits with Andrew on their balcony, watching the moon rise over the rooftops.

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” he says. Andrew nods in agreement. “If you don’t mind, none of those people aside from Derek and Stiles will be at our wedding.”

“Obviously,” Andrew says. “Do you want something similar?”

“Small, intimate?” Andrew nods. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

“How about New Year’s? All we need are a few suits, witnesses, rings, and some of your haupia.”

Danny laughs. “I knew you were only marrying me for my prowess in cooking Hawaiian desserts.”

“Oh sure, yeah, that’s what attracted me to you in the first place.”

“Yeah? And what attracts you now?”

“Hmm,” Andrew pretends to think about the question, before sobering quickly. “Everything,” he answers honestly. “I love everything about you. I love the way you are so smart, the way you cook, I love how you treat your friends, and how you’re not afraid to let someone know when they’ve hurt you. I love the way your face lights up when you laugh, and most of all, I love the fact that you’ve let me share your life with you.”

“Aw, babe, you’re going to make me cry.” Danny rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “I love you too. I love the way you always know what to say in any situation and how you know to give me space when I’m mad. I love the way you always hang up your clothes. I love the way you hog the covers at night. But most of all, I love that I get to share your life with you.”

They share a few sweet kisses.

“Shit, we should have recorded those,” Andrew says suddenly. “They would have made the perfect vows.”

Danny laughs again, sure his face is a bright beacon in the cold November air. “Yeah. We should have. How about we go write them down instead?”

“That works too.” Andrew stands up, offers a hand to pull Danny up. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now move, I’m freezing.”

~ * ~

New Year’s day dawns bright and cold. The perfect day for a quick wedding.

Danny stands in front of the courthouse, Stiles to his right, fluttering about like a nervous moth. Ryleigh would have been here too, but she’s off visiting some of her others cousins, back in Ireland. She sent her love and congratulations in a confetti- and glitter-filled envelope that Danny had the foresight to open in his kitchen on the linoleum instead of his fully-carpeted living room. He’s still finding bits of glitter even after a deep clean.

“Why are you nervous?” Danny asks. “You weren’t this nervous when you and Derek got married.”

Stiles shrugs. “You realize this is the longest I’ve been apart from my husband since we first got together, minus the time he flew out here to get the job at your bakery. I’m just.” Stiles sighs. “Sometimes I think I’m going to turn around and he’ll be gone. Do you ever feel that way about Andrew?”

“No,” Danny shakes his head, “never. I trust him to come back to me, even when he leaves mad. Do you not trust Derek the same way?”

Stiles nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you talk to your husband about it? I’m sure he’ll explain things better than I can.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Danny. You’re a great friend. Andrew is so lucky to be marrying you.”

“And I’m lucky to be marrying him,” Danny says. “Thanks to you and Derek for introducing us.”

“Oh hey, I think I see them.”

Indeed, it is Derek and his fiancé walking toward them. Andrew has the bouquet from Stiles and Derek’s wedding.

“Something old,” he murmurs as he comes astride of Danny.

Danny pokes his tie. “Something blue.”

“All right,” Stiles directs, “let’s get you inside and married before I lose any more feeling in my toes.”

Derek holds the door for them, and Danny swears he hears him hum “The Wedding March” under his breath.

Well, he and Andrew did pick out a playlist for the reception at the bakery after this, and they’ll dance to their song then, but it is nice to have some form of acknowledgment for what this day is.

Well, that is aside from the fact that this building is only open for the purpose of filing marriage certificates today and only for about two hours.

Six other couples have already been here. And now it’s Danny and Andrew’s turn.

“Got the rings?” he asks Stiles as they line up before the justice. Stiles nods, tossing one to Derek while Derek hands Stiles a folded piece of paper.

And then it’s off to the races. Vows exchanged, rings exchanged, kiss exchanged, paper signed, objections null and void, and it’s over.

Danny stands on the steps again, Andrew next to him, matching rings on matching fingers.

Derek and Stiles wave streamers of crepe paper in both his and Andrew’s favorite colors, clapping, and in the case of Stiles, whistling loudly.

As Danny surveys the mostly empty sidewalk in front of him, standing next to the love of his life, two good friends sharing this moment with them, he thinks life can’t get any better than this.

~ The End ~

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Danny Mahealani #OMC #OFC #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #My Story/My Writing #Danny-centric

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mylutteoheart · 5 years

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Fanfic lutteo: 3 times she wasn't turned on, 1 time she did.

First of all, this is not exactly what you asked for but it’s the closest, I’ll ever get to writing stuff like that. I guess I’m not super comfortable with the topic

Also, this has been in my inbox since 2017 and I’m ashamed that I’ve only finished it now.

Then, after a month, I finally finished it, this break from writing was much needed and it’s still going on. I took a break from my break because I feel less stressed this weekend because I have nothing to do for college.

Side Note: There is no actual real mature content in this so if you don’t like that stuff, you can just keep reading. Although it does involve a lot of kissing. There’s only like a little mature content, I guess.

Three Times They Didn’t… You Know and One Time They Did

Luna and Matteo headed to Luna’s house when both their classes ended as she asked Matteo to help with an essay. When they entered the kitchen, Monica was busy cooking just like always.

“Hey, guys.” her mom said once she noticed them entering.

“Hey, mom. What are you cooking?” Luna asked as she hugged her mom to greet her.

“You’ll see what it is when it’s dinner time.” Monica answered. “Are you staying this time?” she turned to Matteo with a friendly smile.

Matteo looked at Luna for confirmation and she nodded that it was okay. “Sure, I’d love to.”

“So you’re not running away this time.” Luna’s dad joined the conversation when he was filling in some papers at the kitchen table.

Matteo suddenly felt uneasy and thinks back on that day he first got introduced to Luna’s parents as her boyfriend. Yeah, that was definitely awkward.

“Uhm. No, sir.” He didn’t exactly know what to say to that.

Luna noticed this and tries to change the subject: “Matteo is going to help me with my essay so we’ll be in my room if you need us.” she intertwined her fingers with Matteo’s and headed to the stairs, Matteo slowly following behind.

“Don’t forget to leave the door open.” Miguel decided to add but Luna ignored this.

They stepped in her room together and it was a mess, Matteo tried to hold back a laugh when he saw this. Luna tried to clear the mess on her bed and would do the rest later on. She sat on her bed and took all of the supplies she needed to complete her essay. Matteo couldn’t help but watch her as she does this. How she’s always so adorable, he would never know. He sat next to her on the bed and they started working, he tried to correct any possible mistakes when she was typing, trying his best to help her out.

When they were done, she put the laptop on her desk and walked back over to Matteo. “Thanks for helping me out, I just couldn’t get myself to finish this essay.”

Matteo gave her his typical chico fresa smile which automatically meant he might be up to something. “I know the perfect way to thank me.”

Matteo started leaning in closer and Luna knew what he meant and she didn’t stop him. She started getting closer to him as wel and their lips brushed against each other. Not a second later, they both deepened the kiss. They put all their feelings into it, showing they missed each other very much even though it hasn’t been that long.

Before Luna even knew it, she was lying on the bed with Matteo on top of her, his hands went around her waist while her hands wrapped behind his neck. They never parted their lips. Luna wasn’t sure what would happen but all her thoughts went out the window with the way he was kissing her.

“Luna, time for dinner.” her mother called from the kitchen and they sprung apart hearing this. She was blushing and her cheeks reddened even more when she saw Matteo smirking at her reaction.

They tried to look presentable before they went downstairs. Luna was still a little flustered and they both wanted keep their straight faces on. They just hoped it would work.

***

A week went by and nothing similar happened after that one incident. Matteo asked her to come over right after her classes and she was happy to spend some alone time with him. Nobody would be home and she was kind of happy about it. They hate it whenever they can’t see each other for long which happened for the last week. They had different schedules for their college courses and they were training for the next skating competition so they barely had any time for themselves.

They were cuddling on the couch watching some tv, his arm was slung around her shoulder while her head was resting on his chest. She loved the way she felt his heart beat underneath her ear. It was very calming.

They didn’t pay too much attention to the tv after a movie there were watching was ending. Luna tried to focus on the tv in front of her but somehow, she felt his eyes on her. Surprisingly, it didn’t give her a weird feeling, it made her happy. She was curious why he was constantly staring at her so she looked up at him to watch his face.

When she lifted her head and turned around to see him, there was an absent smile on his lips. It’s like he didn’t even know he was smiling at the girl sittting in front of her.

She couldn’t help but blush, there was so much love in the look he gave her, she couldn’t describe the way it made her feel. Eventually, she broke the silence as she felt something in the air, not knowing exactly what it is. “What’s wrong?” she asked self conscious.

“Nothing, I just still can’t believe you’re my girlfriend.” he paused for a moment. “You’re so beautiful. In more ways than one.”

She didn’t know what to say to this so she did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him, to say thanks. He eagerly kissed her back. One hand went up to her cheek and carressed it. Drawing small circles on it absentmindedly. Luna tried to get into a more comfortable position so she ended up straddling him. Their kiss got deeper and more passionate, it was filled with hunger she didn’t know existed. Her arms went up to his neck and she was playing with his hair. This made him pull apart and started kissing her jawline, slowly going down to her neck as he left a trail of kisses. Before it went any further. A phone suddenly started to ring, just like before, they sprung apart by Luna quickly jumping of his lap and trying to regain her composure. Matteo just sighed, irritated by the interruption.

“Hello.” It was Matteo who answered his phone. “Does it have to be now? Can’t it wait? Fine, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” he then hung up.

“I’m sorry, chica delivery but I have to go meet Gastón, it’s apparently important.” he rolled his eyes at this, not believing one word but decided to go anyway. “But this isn’t over.” he stood up and took her hand so she could stand up as well. “I’ll drop you off first.” he said before giving her a peck on the lips.

They went outside together, both saddened by the interruption, but they both weren’t planning on letting this keep happening.

***

The next time, they were hanging out at Jam & Roller, it was closing time and Luna volunteered to help the boys clean up because the boys had somewhere to be and Matteo decided to say with her.

“I’m really happy the Roller Band is taking off.” Luna said after they were done cleaning.

“Yeah, it’s so good that they don’t have time for Roller anymore.” Matteo was a bit irritated since they were supposed to hang out alone instead of closing up Roller. “Don’t get me wrong here, I’m really happy for them but I was kind of wishing to spend some with you since it’s been so long since we have been alone. Especially now that I’m in the middle of recording my first album. We don’t have so much free time anymore.” he started pouting a little and Luna found it adorable.

“I know it sucks but look on the bright side, your career is going to take off soon.” she smiled brightly. This made him smile as well.

“Chica delivery, always the positive one.” Matteo said smiling from ear to ear. “I love you so much.”

They’ve said it so many times before but every time, she can’t stop herself from feeling the butterflies floating around in her stomach whenever he said those three words. “I love you too.”

Matteo didn’t stop smiling after her answer and he leaned in to kiss her, when she noticed this, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in as well. Soon enough they were kissing, with his hands on her waist and her arms around his neck. His hands went up and down her sides while the kiss deepened and got more passionate. They seemed to forget where they were at the moment. They could only focus on each other. His hands landed on the hem of her shirt eventually. They slipped underneath and he drew small circles on her bare skin. Trying to make her feel comfortable with the close contact.

When he pulled her closer to his body, they suddenly heard the door of the entrance slam and once again, they jumped meters apart from each other. They both felt awkward after seeing who entered the cafeteria.

“Oh, hi guys. Sorry, I just forgot the keys to my house.” Juliana said smiling at them. “Are you finished here?” she asked in a gentle tone.

They both didn’t say a word but nodded. “Alright then, I can lock up if you guys are done, you can go home if you want.”

“Thanks.” was all Luna could say. They walked out of there hand in hand with their fingers entertwined. When they were well enough out of sight, they both started laughing.

“We’ve got stop doing that.” Matteo said after his laughter died down. “I don’t like being interrupted.” he sighed in dissapointment. Luna didn’t stop laughing though, in fact, she started laughing even more. Trying to make the akwardness disappear.

***

It was a free day for both now so they decided to hang out together at Matteo’s house, seeing as there’s no one around most of the time. They were lying on his bed, just trying to relax in each other’s embrace. His arm was wrapped around her waist while her arms were wrapped around his own waist and resting her head on his chest. They looked at nothing in particular, they were just listening to each other’s breathing as if it was the most beautiful sound around.

Slowly, Matteo started falling asleep as her presence always seemed to relax him so much, he could close his eyes easily. Luna took this as an opportunity to stare at him for a while. She smiled down at him, he looked so handsome and peaceful right then and there, she resisted to urge to put her lips to his. Without even realizing what she was doing, her hand went under his shirt and traced his stomach lazily. Of course, he felt the sudden touch of his girlfriend and he opened his eyes slowly. Smiling as he realized that she was watching him sleep. Her cheeks reddened when a smirk appeared on his face. He felt a little smug about this fact.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a husky voice.

“Maybe.” she muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear but he did and his smirk got bigger.

“Gosh, you’re so cute when you blush.” he said with amusement in his voice but she knew he was sincere when he said that. “Come here.” he said.

She listened and leaned in for a kiss, she meant to just give hime a quick kiss but he wouldn’t let that happen. When she pulled away, he pulled her closer by putting a hand behind her neck and bringing her lips to his. It started out as soft and sweet but quickly turned into hungry filled kisses. The kiss got deeper within seconds. Neither of them seemed to be able to stop and they didn’t want to. He rolled her around after a while, now being on top of her. Her hands rested on his shoulders as he pushed her against his body. Soon after, her hands were beneath his shirt, tracing his stomach and chest. He shivered underneath her touch. His hands went down to the hem of her shirt and pulled apart to look at her to ask for permission. She nodded without hesitating and this was the green light for him.

Soon, clothes were shedded and they got intimate in a way they’ve never been before.

#send me fic requests #soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #soy luna fanfic #lutteo fanfic #fic request #my soy luna fic #anon #ask #answered

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fanesavin · 5 years

Photo

The Driftwood Prince and Lady Florent share last words and a creature is loose in the castle.

@thatwhichbindsus @ianncardero

Iann paced. He could hear the cries and calls from outside of the Keep. After the funeral, which both placated and incited the commonfolk, the gates of the Keep were now open, to an extent. People were allowed in, Nobles were allowed out. The Inquisition was drawing to a close, the Cloverry on its way to choosing another High Raj. The funeral was perfect, in a way - as was the destruction of the Kesleys, as was even that incredible assassination attempt in the Lower City on the Queen of Dark Woods. People got the burst of excitement (and since it happened in the Lower City it wasn’t too alarming; terrible things happened to poor people all the time), they got the closure they wanted in the might and majesty of Sharma’s funeral. And now they wanted to move on. But the needed the Castle - and the Sunlit Throne in particular - to tell them how they were to move on. Prepare for war, or settle into peace? This middle-state of anxiety could go one way or another. The crown was now removed from the Sunlit Throne itself, and Iann headed to the Great Hall, to look at the empty throne, no longer guarded. There was no more need. It sat there, in a sliver of sun, as if aching for someone to be seated in it. With the boldness of an impatient man, Iann took a step up to the dias, then turned to look out over the Great Hall, if only to understand that vantage point.

“Not quite the same view as the Driftwood throne is it, my Lord?” Ciara asked, approaching him as if she had always been just beside him. Her hair was twisted up - she had been working, until not so long ago. Black dress and black gloves, each befitting her grief as Lady Florent, the little known lady, not as the master of whispers. Her face was fixed as stone, as she looked him over, standing up. He hadn’t been standing much further than this when he had slit the throat of that herald. It had prevented panic, but at what cost? What a fine act it had been too. Cast himself as one of the heroes of the hour. Be interrogated early, when all the pieces were still hidden, rather than later on.

Iann was gazing at the spot on the floor, so near the flagstone of the Forty Isles. The blood from the herald had almost reached it, but not quite. “You know your way around this Castle better than I,” Iann replied with a glance at the Lady, words intending to imply that she was very good at sneaking. “This is no view for me,” he added, casting his gaze back over the Great Hall. He looked to the left of him, which opened up to the ocean. “I get news of my father almost every day, now.” He turned to look to Ciara. “I believe the new Coronation will be swift, once a High Raj is chosen and then we shall all be on our way again, under whatever manner of peace we can take.” Like feeding off meagre scraps, rather than a full belly after a feast. Perhaps it was better that way. “You’ll plan to remain in the Castle, I assume.”

“Does his news concern you?” She asked, sidestepping his comments as easily as she sidestepped bodies. Ciara had her hands clasped before her, her head tilted, watching, her eyes seeking. “Perhaps. Who would you see on the throne, that would give us peace?” She stepped aside, glancing to the sea also, and wondered whether it called his name out loud, or only whispered it in the dead of night. “Wherever I am wanted.”

“No, not wherever you are wanted,” he said with a smile, recalling their last conversation. “You feel most useful here, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a mild realization. As a Prince he had the luxury of feeling wanted, and useful, everywhere he went. He took it for granted that people would want his company (while others detested his presence but had no choice but to accept it). Third daughters of fallen lands didn’t have that advantage, of course. She needed a purpose, whereas he could drift on a whim. “I want who ever the people would find peace and contentment in…” But then Iann frowned when he said it. He’d observed Cassandra’s actions, since the High Raj’s death. Although Iann honestly couldn’t fathom that she was behind Sharma’s demise, he did notice her political manoeuvring towards becoming beloved by the people, ingratiated to the Cloverry. He’d been prepared for that possibility. He’d even been planning to offer Cassandra his ally-ship and support. But then he’d heard news that perhaps Miguel had gotten to Cassandra first. And on top of that, Miguel and Ciara were also seen together, heads bent towards each other. “My father’s news always concerns me. That much should be obvious by now,” Iann said, his voice sounding heavy.

“Where I am wanted is usually where I am useful,” Ciara replied in measured tones. Here, she had evidence. Here, she had the capacity to shape a new era of peace, to help Miguel help people (even if that was to Lord Iann’s loss), to forge trade and bring in a new era of prosperity. Bring her family honour. It was selfish, but also kind. His answer was plain and diplomatic, his face as revealing as a thunderstorm. The thought vexed him, as it did her. “I did not mean to diminish your father’s health,” she said softly, and found herself walking closer once more.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Iann said drily. How much reach did Lady Florent have, exactly? She held secrets, that much he’d known for years, ever since the secret she held for him. How likely was she then to help Miguel do what Iann never would: patricide? His father was ailing and weak, but he’d been a good ruler. If Iann was impatient for the man to die, it was only so Iann could rule properly. But he would wait. He wasn’t sure his younger brother would, especially now that the Inquisition was drawing to a close. Iann grew colder, like a Northern sea. He thought of the Inquisitor, likely longing to return to that predictable, unforgiving cold. “Is there something you need from me, my Lady? I’m at your service.”

“Your observation skills perhaps,” Ciara replied, as he became cold and sharper still. Her bones ached - like everyone else, she was tired. She lay asleep at night with guards watching every corner, and since she had soaked her hands in the blood of lord kesley, she could think of nothing but. “Have I done something to offend you, my lord?”

Iann turned to look at her. “Don’t presume to answer my question with questions of your own, Lady of Florent,” Iann replied. “You wear innocence and naivety like a flimsy veil that does nothing to hide your scars.”

Like all men, he snapped and snarled, a rabid dog baring its teeth in warning. Ciara raised an eyebrow, and did not once shift in the breeze. She could not ask him to mind herself, nor threaten him. She had no armies, no true power. Just the servants in the walls. “Perhaps, but my veils suit you well, do they not?”

There was no snap or snarl to his voice. Iann wasn’t behaving rabidly, nor was he baring any figurative teeth in warning. Why would he need to, when their ranking was so distinct and far apart. The Lady heard what she wanted to hear, to justify her own sense of defense. “Answer my question, what do you want.”

That was an order, and Ciara lowered her head just so in respect, although as with all things, it came with a small edge. “It is no great thing, my lord. One of my servants has a daughter who cleans bedrooms in this castle. Lately, she hasn’t heard from her.” Ciara lowered her voice slightly, as she was about to discuss baser things. “Of course, with this many people in so small a space, it is not so surprising. I wondered if perhaps you knew anyone whose tastes leant that way. But do not let me take more of your time if it does not suit you. You have a great deal on your mind.”

A servant? Iann blinked, not expecting any question to do with a servant. He wasn’t stupid of course; he understood that servants could be just as useful as anything else, when it came to information at least. What he had been, was ignorant. Of course - of course a Lady of this Castle who was held in high esteem by the late High Raj, concerned herself with the business of servants. It all fell into place in Iann’s mind now: servants and secrets. “Why would I know anything of the sort. That is gossip, and I don’t think you need to come to me for that sort of illicit gossip,” Iann stated. He stated again, wording it differently yet again. “Ask me what you want to ask me, Lady.”

“I assume you know a great many things, my lord, of whatever may serve you.” Ciara tilted her head, but as she did, the door to the great hall opened, and one of the Rajisthangard stood, staring at her, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “It appears you’ll have to excuse me, your lordship.” Ciara said, with a tone suitable for any nobility interupted by the commonfolk.

“As you wish,” Iann replied, watching her leave, at the cue of a Rajisthangard who’d clearly come to speak to her.

Ssssnek wasss cold. Lossst. Confusssed. It’s bifurcated tongue flickered out over the cold stone of the palace floor, trying to capture a familiar scent, if one existed. It found none.

Scared Lords and Ladies shrieked and scuffled away at the sight of the snake slithering down the corridor.

Ssssnek slithered down the edge of the corridor. It’s tan, slim body was nearly five feet long, and even though it blended well with the stones, it was hard to miss such a creature. It sensed warmth ahead, and the vibrations of… prey? The warmth neared, but it was not prey. The humansss feared ssssnek, so they ran. Ssssnek was glad for thisss. For it had been drained of its venom by the woman, and would need time to replenish it’s stores.

Scared Lords and Ladies trampled and shoved one another to get away from the terrifying creature slithering the halls. “Help! Help!” their calls echoed down the corridor as they rushed and panicked shoving one another out of the way to try and get ahead down the narrow corridor.

Unsupervised NPC child was nearly trampled as the crowd of adults ran by. He thought it a game however, and turned to follow. Until he saw the curious creature moving down the corridor.

Fane heard the commotion coming from one of the corridors and frowned, heading in that direction to investigate the disturbance.

Ssssnek curled up slightly, startled at the shrill cries of the humansss as they ran from it. It nearly struck at them, but they did not come back. After a tense moment, ssssnek loosened itself and moved on.

Scared Lords and Ladies didn’t care if they trampled one another, all they cared was getting away from the snake nor did they care about the little child lost amongst the crowd. Some, thinking to get rid of enemies grabbed tunics and yanked them back to the floor to clamber ahead to survive.

Unsupervised NPC child saw the ssssnek. He smiled. His father had a book that showed drawings of them, and the boy had been fascinated since the first time he sat on his father’s knee and learned their names. But his father had never seen a serpent in his whole life. Not a real one. Perhaps he could capture this one and take it to him.

Fane seeing the rush of people coming out of one of the hallways frowned, gesturing for a couple of the guards who followed at his heel to come with him. He let some of the panicking crowds pass until there were less left in the corridor. Only then did he see the child and the ssssnek. “Lad, why don’t you come here,” he called to the child eyeing the reptile warily.

An open door along the corridor took the sssnek’s attention. It lifted it’s head slightly, flicking it’s tongue into the new space. There was warmth here. Warm stonessss… smell of… othersss. It smelled of furwearers. The serpent slid across the threshold, oblivious to the child that was reaching for it.

Unsupervised NPC child wondered why all the grownups were so frightened. He looked back down the corridor at the chaos, glad they had passed him over to run away. They always thought they knew better. But he knew about serpents. Books made you intelligent, after all. That’s what his father said. so intent was he on his quarry, that he did not see the Inquisitor as he reached for the tail of the serpent, who’s attention was on something or someone in the room (who the child also did not see), and wrapped his hand around it…

Scared Lords and Ladies continued to panic and scream into the rest of the castle their cries and wails echoing in their wake.

Fane seeing the child go to reach for the tail of the snake didn’t hesitate, he launched into a sprint stooping to catch the child under the arms and heft him out of the way before he could be bit.

Unsupervised NPC child made a sound of protest as he was snatched up. The serpent jerked it’s tail briefly as the child’s fingers brushed it’s scales, but otherwise did not turn towards him. “My Lord, I nearly had him!” the boy protested. “He was lovely. Did you see him?? And now he’s gone…” The boy sagged. “My father will be so disappointed…”

Ssssnek could feel the vibrations of the still panicking humans. They were timid creatures usually. And if the serpent had been capable of forethought, it might have realized that news of it’s escape would spread like wildfire.

Fane lifted the child out of the way despite his protests, “I know you did lad,” his words were soft but concerned as he drew him away from the serpent “but that there’s a very dangerous beastie.” He glanced at his guards who were eyeing the serpent warily, “don’t just stand there find a way to contain it, a cage or… box or something.” He carried the child down the corridor, “is your father here in the castle lad?”

But being a serpent, it’s only thoughts were of finding somewhere warm to hide, and perhaps a meal of mice. But it could not eat if it was cold. Though the smell of furbearers was strong. It slipped slowly through the room, among crates and tables and baskets, tongue flicking as it followed the scents it had picked up. Soon it had disappeared altogether, into the walls and the crevices of the keep. It would find it’s back out eventually. Perhaps in the night, when things were quiet.

Unsupervised NPC child pouted as he pointed the Lord Savin in the direction of his father and was carried away, serpentless.

#got au #got scene

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dogbearinggifts · 6 years

Text

Elegy, Part Five

A/N: Adapted from an idea by @daughterofthemoon99, where Imelda is the one to visit the Land of the Dead rather than Miguel. If you’d like to catch up on previous chapters, definitely read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, and Part Four before continuing. The whole fic is also available on AO3.

*******

Your husband.

Héctor was there. Of all the people in Imelda’s family, of everyone they could have found and armed with knowledge of the situation, the Department of Family Reunions, in all their wisdom, had found Héctor.

Ernesto could see their reasoning. Imelda’s parents and primos and all the rest would have crossed the bridge by now. Photo agents would have been dispatched with pictures to guide them, but it would be a process, and a time-consuming one at that. Assuming they wanted the curse lifted as quickly as possible, of course they would seek out the one person in her family who had not crossed. And as the one person who had not crossed—now or ever—Héctor would naturally be the first at Imelda’s side by virtue of being closest.

It made sense. It all made perfect, logical sense. Ernesto would not have been able to argue with a single one of those points, had he been given the opportunity.

Imelda stared for a long minute. No words. No sounds. Just silence as she blinked at the border agent.

“Oh,” he imagined her saying. “I…yes, I’ve suspected that for a while. That he’s dead. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

It made for a nice picture, but Ernesto knew even before she spoke that it was just that. A comforting image to be enjoyed only as long as it took Imelda to shred it.

“No.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “No, no. He’s not—here. I don’t know where he is, but he’s not—he didn’t—“

The border agent’s hand covered her mouth. “Lo siento, Señora, We—we thought you knew!”

“How could I know? I haven’t received so much as a letter from that man in twenty-one years, and now you tell me he’s dead?”

She had both hands braced on the table, drawing long, ragged breaths. For the moment, all her attention, all her anger, seemed to have chosen the border agent as a target. Unfortunately, the door was behind them both; Ernesto couldn’t leave without drawing their attention.

And Héctor’s.

“He’s your husband, Señora, we assumed—“

“Was my husband.” She was back to snapping now. “That ended when he left.”

“I—I didn’t know, none of us knew! We were only trying to send you home.”

Ernesto had watched the encroachment of a monzón, tracked its approach in increments as stone-grey clouds swallowed up blue skies. He had witnessed it over the course of hours, wondering if it would interfere with his show. The first clap of thunder, so strong and close he felt it in his stomach; the wind bowing the brush and trees and sending sprays of water thrashing against the building, hammering against the walls, had sent thoughts of his show to the back of his mind.

Watching Imelda try to steady her breathing, her hands slowly tightening on the table’s edge, was like watching a monzón swoop in faster than any storm had a right to move—and there was no shelter in sight.

“You.”

Her eyes locked on his. That first thunderclap sounded right over his head; had he been standing, he might have collapsed.

“Why did you not tell me?”

Her voice wasn’t low, but she had not yet raised it, every word pronounced. “I—Imelda, I didn’t know.”

Perhaps she saw the lie in those words, perhaps she didn’t, but she saw the songbook. Saw it in his hands, among his effects. She saw Héctor hunched over it, writing a new song, tucking it into his suitcase, knowing he wouldn’t have parted with it easily.

He hadn’t parted with it easily.

“He left in México City,” Ernesto went on, concealing a wince. Surely Héctor wouldn’t be close enough to hear the entire conversation, but he kept his voice as low as he could without drawing suspicion.

“And you never heard from him again?”

“No.”

“You. His brother. He never spoke to you again.”

A small, muffled squeak came from the border agent. Whether it was fear or wisdom that kept her from asking one of the obvious questions, she held her silence.

“You were his wife. He never wrote you, either.”

Pain creased her features for a split-second before that patient sort of anger resumed its place.

“I thought he would have told you, of all people, where he was going.”

“So did I.”

Her jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I don’t know why he did it, Imelda.” He softened his tone. Sometimes that calmed her, sometimes it didn’t, though only Héctor had ever tried. “He left me, too.”

“You clearly came out of that calamity none the worse for wear.”

She didn’t know. She hadn’t seen him in the days and weeks following Héctor’s death, let alone the death itself. Hadn’t seen him performing Héctor’s songs alone on the guitar she’d given him. Hadn’t seen him smiling at the adoration of the crowds. The remark was a jab at his success, not its catalyst. “It…wasn’t easy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t.”

Scornful sarcasm—another one of Imelda’s more charming traits. But that was all it was. A weapon she used in situations like this, where she fought to gain the upper hand by any means necessary. She knew no more than what the border agent had revealed. Any detail beyond that was just guessing.

“Should—should I….?” The border agent began, but Ernesto barely heard her.

“You can’t think I wanted him to leave.”

She flattened both palms on the table. “And how long did you wait after he did? One day? One week before you ran off to—to—charm the world with your—your music?”

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. The way she’d said your music was evidence enough that the truth still remained far from her comprehension, and yet the way she spoke, the things she said….

No. She didn’t know. Héctor didn’t know.

“You think I should have waited?” He was on his feet now, and it took everything within him to keep from raising his voice. “You think I should have sat around doing nothing after my best friend walked out the door without warning?”

“You could have taken the time to write a letter.”

“Ay, we’re going back to that again.” The dead should not have been capable of getting headaches, but he felt one forming regardless. A side effect of Imelda’s presence.

“Fine. We can talk about why he left his suitcase behind.”

The suitcase. The songbook. That was what she meant; she didn’t care about Héctor’s clothes so much as the thing he’d died for.

The thing he’d left behind prior to his death. That was what she believed. He had to remember that.

“I told you, Imelda, I don’t know why he did what he did.”

She folded her arms across her chest.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve told you all I know.”

Yet she had not shared all she knew. The realization crept over him like a chill. She knew who had originally owned the songbook, knew who had written the songs—and yet she’d kept that bit of knowledge away from clerks and border agents alike. With a single statement she could begin the unraveling of his reputation, but that statement remained unspoken.

And if he knew Imelda, it was not benevolence that kept her from saying all she could.

Her eyes locked on his, and he read the message in them as clearly as if it were printed. Tell me about the songbook, it said. Tell me, or I’ll tell them.

“Señorita.”

The border agent’s attention snapped toward him.

If Imelda wanted to go home, it was time she did so. “Perhaps you should find another one of Imelda’s family to give their blessing.”

Imelda’s gaze hardened into a glare, lips pressed together, eyes threatening to burn through his skull. No need for a tantrum, he wanted to say. I’m helping you get what you want. You see?

“Unless she’d rather take the blessing from her husband?”

“I….” The border agent looked from him to Imelda and back, seemingly remembered how to speak, and drew a breath. “I’ll ask my supervisor. Or…whoever’s outside. I mean the police. Or…someone. Un momento.”

She practically lunged for the door, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob when she saw Imelda was right behind.

“I—you should stay here, Señora.”

“Why?”

It was less a question than a challenge, and the border agent considered it only a moment before opening the door wide and letting Imelda precede her through.

Ernesto sank into the nearest chair, cursing his limbs as they shook. He had no reason to fear. Imelda had, from all appearances, pushed her husband’s memory to the back of her mind. If his sources were to be believed, she had never put his photo on her ofrenda. Never asked what became of him, never suspected anything but a sudden loss of interest in her.

Now she knew.

She wouldn’t ask. She wanted, more than anything, to go home before the curse overtook her. Any questions as to her husband’s demise would be secondary to that or, more likely, pondered only once she was safe at home and away from the only two men with knowledge of what had happened that night. Decades could pass between her return to the Land of the Living and her death—time enough for any nagging questions to fade.

But if she did ask them now….

Ernesto wanted to race out of that pitiful little cubicle. He wanted to snatch Imelda by the wrist and drag her off to the Department of Family Reunions, push her into a chair, and watch her like a hawk until someone else—anyone else—walked in with cempasúchil in hand and blessing in mind.

But that would only encourage further questions when she returned—and he couldn’t leave the cubicle while Héctor waited outside.

*******

Your wife is here.

At those words, Héctor expected the worst. Imelda was still young, after all; death at forty-three wasn’t unheard of, but it was still too soon. It would have to be an accident that brought her here, though he couldn’t imagine what and didn’t want to try. But after walking with the officers for a few minutes, he finally worked up the courage to ask. Better to know and prepare than to be knocked off his feet by the revelation.

“Got herself cursed,” one of the officers said. “Needs a family blessing to send her back.”

“Wait.” He stopped in his tracks. “Wait wait wait wait wait. You mean…she’s still alive?”

He didn’t expect the faint smile on the officer’s face, but he didn’t dislike it, either. “Sí, Señor Rivera. She’s still alive.”

It was all Héctor could do to keep from running back to the bridge.

Back to Imelda.

What he’d say would depend on what she said first. That was the important thing—let her explain what had happened to the family portrait that made it unsuitable for an ofrenda, explain why she’d let Ernesto play his songs on the guitar she’d given him at their wedding, and then he could speak.

I’m sorry. I never should have left.

That needed to be said the most; he’d say it first.

I’ve missed you.

Maybe self-evident, but it still needed to be said—a hundred times over, if that’s what it took.

How’s Coco?

Thinking of that question erased all others. Asking it would raise fifty more, but he couldn’t know which ones until Imelda answered the first. He’d imagined the answers more times than he could count, tried not to and done it again. Was she married? If so, to who? Did she have children?

What had she been doing for the past twenty years?

What was she like?

Héctor tried to push those questions to the back of his mind, but this time they refused, perhaps knowing the answers were only as far as he was from Imelda. From his wife. She was there, and she was waiting—to go home, but not before he had his chance to see her. To speak to her. To hear her voice, laugh with her, cry with her, snatch all the bits of news she threw his way. To remember the things he feared he’d forgotten.

“Wait just a minute,” a smiling border agent said when the officers told her who they were and who was with them. “I’ll tell her you’re here.”

She stepped into a small outbuilding, closed the door behind her.

He was close, but the murmur and babble of a hundred conversations surrounded him. He didn’t hear the border agent announce his presence. For a long minute, he didn’t hear anything.

“Lo siento, Señora, We—we thought you knew!”

“How could I know? I haven’t received so much as a letter from that man in twenty-one years, and now you tell me he’s dead?”

Héctor instinctively took a step back, tried to sit down and realized there was nothing to sink into. No…she knew. She had to know. Ernesto would have told her.

“He’s your husband, Señora, we assumed—“

He would have gone straight to Santa Cecilia, Héctor’s guitar and suitcase seated beside him on the train. Imelda wouldn’t have known to greet him at the station, but Ernesto knew the way to their home as well as he knew his own name. Imelda would have guessed what happened the moment she saw his face.

“Was my husband. That ended when he left.”

Was my husband.

Héctor stumbled back, only dimly aware of hands on his shoulders, steadying him before a fall. The rest of what was said in that cubicle became a babble. He heard Imelda’s voice sniping back and forth with another, familiar voice, but whose it was escaped him.

Was.

“Let’s find you a place to sit down.”

He nodded, let them half-lead, half-carry him to a spot behind the arrivals booth, waited as one officer snagged a chair and set it out, and sank into it the moment he could.

Was my husband.

“This’ll pass,” one of the officers said. “Probably just mad she got herself cursed, is all.”

Héctor didn’t have the energy to correct him. He could only sit slumped in the chair, watching others carry offerings back into the city. The angry sniping of Imelda’s conversation had been replaced with happy chatter—more pleasant to listen to, but nowhere near soothing.

That ended the moment he left.

He’d sent letters—scores of them, writing every moment he could spare. Songs for Coco. Stories for Imelda. She hadn’t sent any back, of course; to receive a letter, you needed to stay in the same place long enough to retrieve it from the post office. But he’d never imagined she wouldn’t want to. He’d pictured her writing letters she’d never be able to send, saving them for when he returned. They’d sit by the fire and read them together, laughing and smiling and nodding somberly at all the joy and sorrow he’d missed out on the road.

Héctor bowed his head. He might not have moved for the rest of the night, had he not felt someone watching him.

Imelda.

A glint of white marred her right hand—exposed bone; the officers had mentioned something about a curse—but it was the rest of her that held his attention. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to smiling skulls and exposed bone until that moment, when she stood there like a memory come to life. Older, yes, but no less familiar—and even more beautiful than he remembered. A leather work apron covered a dress made in the same style she tended to favor. What it was for, he couldn’t guess, but he couldn’t imagine it as the mark of a struggling endeavor. Everything she’d done, no matter how small, had succeeded. She’d sat beside him for all the hours she could spare, learning the language of music simply to learn it. Whatever she’d put her mind to this time, she’d have done it better than most.

I’m sorry.

His thoughts had become a briar, and that was the only thing he could pluck out. No explanations. No justifications. Just an apology. If it was the only thing she let him say, he’d rather say just that.

Only a few meters stood between them, but it was enough to make her expression difficult to read. Anger, remorse, satisfaction grim or otherwise—Héctor could only guess.

I’m sorry, Imelda. I’m so sorry.

He could say it. Close the gap in a few quick steps, speak before she had a chance to turn away. Maybe it would keep here there. Give him a chance to explain.

The moment he left.

Without warning, without a signal, Imelda turned and walked toward the station. Héctor wouldn’t have followed even if he could bring himself to stand. He simply watched until his wife disappeared into a crowd that continually paused to gawk.

He didn’t know how long he stayed, how long he watched families return from or prepare for visits. The officers conferred between each other; one left and the other remained at his side. He replayed what he’d heard again and again. Nothing improved, nothing changed. Just Imelda’s voice, and words he hadn’t expected.

Maybe he should have expected them. Known they were what he’d get.

Somewhere along the repetitions, Imelda’s voice stepped aside just enough for another to join it. Not the border agent’s; the male voice he’d heard, arguments he couldn’t quite make out. A familiar voice, familiarity drowned out by the things Imelda had said.

She’d been arguing with Ernesto.

******

A/N: Enjoying this fic? Read Part Six here.

#coco #pixar coco #coco spoilers #coco fanfic #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #imector #hector x imelda #au #imelda investigates au #elegy #long post

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