#I'm glad he got pipe murdered

[sydneighsays]

Doodle

Timeline unclear but we ball

[kiwisbell]

Security Details: Chapter 2 [frankie morales]

Frankie’s long-time friend enlists his help. He's more than eager to accept the job. The problem is that he's in love with her.

chapter 1 | chapter 2

pairing: francisco "catfish" morales x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings for entire fic: abusive relationship (not between frankie and reader), murder, violence, BAMF frankie, protective frankie, possessive frankie, soft frankie, mutual pining, yearning, reader is not named but has a call sign (fox), frankie is dumb but he's got the spirit, angst, smut, fluff, partners to friends to lovers, happy ending, frankie spends most of this fic in his feelings, telltale signs of a fic written by a hopeless romantic, unprotected piv, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex, consensual somnophilia, english and spanish dirty talk, frankie going feral to keep his girl safe, possessive sex, blood and injury, undefined age gap

tags and warnings for this chapter: unrequited love becomes requited, unprotected piv (don't follow my lead), oral sex, frankie eating pussy like a king, blood and violence, frankie is unhinged, protective frankie, possessive sex, consensual somno, creampie, breeding kink, frankie morales fucks

word count: ~ 9k

chapter 2: oh, but i'm singing like a bird about it now

It takes him two hours to tell the entire story of what happened in Peru. It happens over dinner: the most disgusting canned ravioli he’s ever eaten and the most tolerable canned green beans. They sit opposite one another at the tiny two-person dining table, basking in slats of orange sunlight that filter through the closed blinds. He can’t risk anyone seeing her here now that she suspects someone is following her. 

“That’s…” She blows out a breath, poking some beans with her fork. “Jesus, Frankie. I’m sorry. That sounds like a really shitty few weeks.”

Sorry? All the shit he’s just confessed to doing for some pathetic fucking bags of money, and she’s sympathising? He must look bewildered enough to make her giggle, if a bit hysterically. “It’s just…” She drops her chin into her palm. “Two hundred and fifty million.”

He stares at her for a moment. The golden light on her face and the way her eyes glimmer. “Yeah.”

“And you got on the boat with five.”

He’s beginning to understand. “Yeah.”

“And…” She bites down on her lip. “You signed away your earnings.”

He doesn’t think either of them are able to pinpoint what causes the laughter, but soon they’re both in tears, choking and wheezing over something that is probably not funny at all. Tears are streaking down their faces and the tiny home is filled with the sound of cutlery clanging as they shake uncontrollably. Their minds are not their own, and when the laughter ebbs, they are left smiling at one another. It feels like it did before, for a wink. 

“What would you have done with it?” she asks.

He sips his beer—the fridge is still stocked from his last stay here. “Two years ago, it would have been an Aston Martin or a lifetime’s supply of cowboy boots.”

“And now?” She’s drinking, too, but she dug around the stores for a bottle of red wine and poured some into a mostly-clean mason jar. 

“Now…” Frankie sighs. “Lifetime’s supply of diapers and baby food.”

“I don’t know, Frankie. I like your cowboy boots.”

“Nah, see, now I know you're lying.”

“What the fuck are those?”

“What?” Frankie looked down at his boots. “You don't like ‘em?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn't shroud the shaking of her shoulders. “No. No, Frank, I don’t.” She touched her hand to her heart. “I looove them.”

“Don't be mean, Foxy,” piped up Santiago from the back. “Those bastards were paid for with blood money.”

She gasped. “Don't tell me…”

Santiago hoisted Frankie’s arm into the air and whooped. “Divorce does wonders, folks!”

Frankie flushed hot while Fox bit down on her lip. He felt dirty—wrong—for being glad about the split, for wanting the woman in front of him for far longer than he ever wanted Lisa. He felt like a cheater. “Cálmate,” he grumbled to Pope. 

She just laughed, rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. “If we're going to set a good example for your daughter, we have to teach her honesty. I think your boots are hideous. And yet”—she swigged her beer and kissed him on the cheek—“you somehow pull them off. You must teach me your ways.”

Frankie watches a car speed by through the blinds and makes sure it disappears from sight. “You ever notice him acting strangely?”

“He would miss dinner or come to bed late,” she says, “but I assumed he was working late, like he told me. Or cheating.”

Frankie frowns. “You wouldn't have cared?”

She scoffs. “Please, Frank. Of course I would care. It’s not like he would let me leave. I knew he was a recreational user, but I started to notice calls on the phone logs and missing links in email chains to and from a man named St. John—Matt said he was a higher-up at his company, but I think it's an alias. Started to feel like he was hiding something more than just another woman.” She rubs her brow. “Had a lot of thinking to do while I was… away. And things add up.”

“He got put away,” says Frankie. He only speaks to remind himself of the truth. He won't hurt her again. 

“Only because of this.” She points to her face. “I know it sounds paranoid—”

“I believe you,” says Frankie. “Like you said, you've never steered me wrong.”

She smiles. “We should sleep. You drove all day, and I had to listen to your music all day.”

“Hey.” Frankie points at her. “Driver picks music, Foxy. Don't insult Metallica.”

“Go to sleep,” she says again, disappearing back into the hallway where she'll stretch out in that twin bed. He putters around in the kitchen, scrubbing their plates a little too hard, arranging the cushions and blankets on the couch with a little too much force. Lying with his eyes fixed on the yellowed popcorn ceiling, the old ache in his back throbbing up his spine, Frankie loathes this house. He detests the colour of the walls and the way the floors would creak under your weight even if you weighed eighty pounds. He hates the uncomfortable furniture. 

He hates that she has to be here. 

He hates himself for letting his head get stuck so far up his own ass he never mustered up the courage to tell her how he loved her: that her smile makes him ache, that he craves her presence the way he used to crave nicotine, that she's it for him. He hates that she's been wasting her time with assholes who only hurt her while he's been wasting his time yearning but not acting. If he's too much of a coward to tell her, he'll show her. 

He’ll show her exactly how worth it she is. He’ll make sure she knows that he'd die for her the way she nearly did the day she took that bullet. 

~

They're used to waiting in a profession like theirs. She's accustomed to hours and days upon rooftops and inside inconspicuous vans. She's used to the way it makes her joints creak with disuse and her eyes sore from rarely blinking. They've been in this safe house for a week, and they're out of food. 

“No.”

“Frank—”

“No, Fox.” He’s frowning in frustration. It's a different frown than his concentration frown, which is altogether different from his needy frown—the one he gets when he's neglected. Her favourite grumpy dog. “It's too risky.”

Her bruises have mostly healed, along with the cut on her lip. But he'll never forget them. He’ll never forget seeing her walk into the kitchen in Santiago’s home, the terror that flooded him. 

“Everything’s risky if I’m being stalked,” she reasons. “I can't hide forever, Frankie. Especially not if we don't have any leads.”

His nostrils flare, and she knows she's in for more arguing. “I can go. You should stay here.”

“I know you can, Frank.” She gestures toward the windows. “Has anyone followed us here?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” he begins, “but—”

“I’m getting cabin fever.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I know you are, too. That's why we're arguing.”

He huffs. “We’re not… arguing.”

She smiles. “Good. Isn’t it better that we don't split up, anyway?”

He gets pissed off when his friends are right, sometimes. Whenever he's arguing with Santiago about something easily Googleable (she'll do just that—look it up and wait patiently with the phone screen turned away until they're finished their shouting match), he'll grind his jaw and sulk for a bit when he's in the wrong. Then, he'll slap Santiago good-naturedly on the cheek and they’ll move on. Being wrong about such trivial things leads to being wrong in the real world. Making the wrong call. Getting someone hurt. 

He's always been a bit of a worrier. 

But he doesn't get mad when she's right. Because she makes it sound so sweet, so gentle, and all he can do is laugh. Of course she's right. He was stupid to argue with her in the first place. It's much safer if they travel together. He can keep her safe. He can. 

He fucking will. 

“Get one of my sweatshirts,” he says. “Don't take off the hood.”

She rolls her eyes but does as he asks. Indulging him. He will earn the right to be indulged again. The sweatshirt is his, an old and too-large grubby thing, blue (his favourite colour), and it swallows her. He waits until she crosses the room to collect his wallet and plants himself by the window, rubbing a hand down his face and splashing some cold water over it for good measure. Jesus. Get yourself together. Fucking asshole.

They slip into the truck and he pulls out of the driveway after making triple-sure no one lingers nearby. She draws a knee up to her chest so she can rest her chin on it, always detesting the feeling of her feet on the ground. It’s as if she can taste the tremors in the ground on her tongue and needs reprieve from them. 

“Those jeans aren’t yours,” he says after a too-long silence. He hopes she isn’t put off by him memorising the articles in her closet. 

“Matt’s,” she says idly. “Got blood on mine. I felt like I wanted to fuck him over in some small way. Taking his pants probably wasn’t the best method.”

He says nothing, but he sets his jaw and turns into town. It’s small enough that it borders on a hamlet, really; there’s a single Food World and a gas station, which are connected to one another. He can see every single home from here, stuck in the middle of nowhere on this lonely country road. It’s almost pleasant.

“What’s your favourite piece from my closet, Frankie?”

Shit.

She says it teasingly, a smile tugging on one corner of her mouth. It’s the kind of smile she gets when she’s trying not to, biting down on her bottom lip. He can’t quite grasp the depth of his own want, the way his chest lurches and his fingers twitch toward her. His body knows him before he does. He wants to lunge across the truck bench and put his mouth on hers, slide his hands up her—his—sweatshirt, and feel her: her strong, soft, capable body, her scars and bruises he’s memorised in their years together. He wants to hear her gasps and whimpers, different from any cries of pain he’s heard from her lips before. He wants to make her feel good. And she would feel so fucking good. 

“You really wanna know?” he says.

She’s already looking at him when he parks at the Food World. “Yeah, I do.”

“That blue sundress,” he tells her, “the one you wear for the Fourth of July every year.”

Her brows lift a little in the middle, stretching the scar on her nose, and she’s so adorable sometimes it makes him hurt, makes him forget that she’s killed people with those fingers twiddling in her lap, makes him keep talking even though she already fucking knows what her dress looks like. She’s the one who wears it.

“It’s got these… I don’t know, these fuckin’ bows. Yeah, they’re bows. On the shoulders. You have to re-tie them when they get loose. Your face scrunches up when you concentrate, the way it does when you’re on a roof, watching a target through your scope.” Frankie watches her eyes scan his face, every inch, every freckle, like she’s trying to memorise it before a test. “It kinda—sorta flutters when there’s a breeze, y’know? It’s… nice.” He clears his throat and turns his head away, looking through the windshield. “You look nice in blue.”

Recalling the way her hips curve in that flowy fucking dress, the way she glows and shines and makes everyone shield their eyes from the glare, Frankie knows why his favourite colour is blue.

And Christ, the way she looks at him after his humiliating admission… The weight of her gaze, the slow blinking, the way her lashes brush her cheeks, the sheer power she imposes upon him when she watches him like that. He feels like he’s the biggest and smallest thing in the universe. He feels like suffering too long under that look will turn him to ashes. 

“Frank,” she says, a name shoved out, dreamlike in quality. “If you’d told me you liked it so much, I’d wear it every day.”

He lets himself laugh. “Even in winter?”

“I have snow boots and a parka for a reason.” She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Haute couture, no?”

He needs to get out of this truck. He needs to get out before he does something he’ll regret. “C’mon,” he says, “let’s make this quick.”

The Food World is mostly deserted. There are two cashiers, one drumming his fingers on the counter and the other resting her chin in her palm. People mill about the aisles, mostly in similar dress to theirs, sweatpants and sweatshirts and ratty jeans. Muzak crackles through the overhead P.A. systems. Nothing immediately prickles at his instincts. Frankie lets her walk ahead, lingering behind her. He doesn’t like people at his back, never has: an old soldier’s itch. Even waiting in lines makes him sweat a little above the brow. She’s never been that nervous, but she understands. She reaches backward every so often and squeezes his hand to make sure he’s still with her. 

From here, he can’t exactly help but look at her ass in those too-big jeans, the flare of her hips, her legs. His hood is secure atop her head, morphing her into a stranger to the world, no longer the beautiful beacon with the cuts and bruises on her face. Frankie, in his own jeans and his grey T-shirt and his olive green button-up, cap snug on his head, looks just as unassuming—save for the permanent frown on his face. 

“We need these,” she says when they reach the empty baking aisle, though he isn’t sure why they’re in the baking aisle. Until he sees her hold up two boxes of cake mix. Chocolate and birthday confetti. 

“We do not need those.”

“Cat,” she says, her voice dropping low, nearly a fucking purr. Does she know what she’s doing? What she does to him? “You are too grumpy to function. It’s your birthday in a couple days. What if we’re still in that stupid house because of me? You’ll have no cake to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate getting older,” he says, gently plucking the boxes from her hands. It makes her eyes widen, a deliberate, dirty goddamn move, until she schools her face to look like she’s about to cry. He flicks her on the nose. “And that… is a rotten play, Fox.”

Her pouting mouth makes him want to pounce, to shove her up against the shelves of boxed mix and wipe that look off her face with his mouth. His fingers. His cock. God, he needs to get a grip. 

“You aren’t old, Frankie,” she says softly. She reaches for him and gently pries his fingers, one-by-one, from the box of chocolate mix. He lets her. “Your life deserves to be celebrated. We’ll do chocolate, okay? It’s understated.”

But he feels old. He remembers the first day she was introduced to the team: her fresh-faced and bounding with energy. He, mid-thirties at the time, was hesitant to accept a new member of the team. He and the guys had already gelled, known one another for years in Basic before they were slapped together, and Frankie didn’t know what to make of the sniper, the stunner. But she  slipped in, made them laugh and silenced any doubts with that perfect fucking aim, and made him feel like an asshole for ever thinking she wasn't the perfect choice. She's always the perfect choice. 

Your life deserves to be celebrated. 

“Okay,” he relents. “Chocolate. Now get out of this aisle before you convince me to buy whipped cream.”

She beams up at him and it's worth giving up his pride. “And don't give me any of that shit about this being your fault,” he says, guiding her toward the produce. “It's his. You know it.”

“It was my decision to rope you in, Frank. You're the only one I trust with my life like this.”

It's such a vulnerable, soft thing that escapes her mouth. Absently, his hand finds her waist, squeezes. She looks up at him, her face obscured by half a shadow thanks to the hood, and he's worried he's gone too far. But her lips part, her breath leaves her in a sigh, and she whispers, full of conviction: “I mean it.”

Frankie tries to rein in his breathing, shifts the cyclic stick back toward the space between two walls, his lungs. Overrides the spin-out by looking in her eyes. “I know you do,” he says. “I know, baby.” 

She brings his knuckles to her mouth and kisses each one. He loses control again. Fuck, he's not even scanning his surroundings. He's lost himself in her, in that gentle smile she gives him. There's solidarity in that smile. Forgiveness, almost. “For the record,” she says, “it wasn't a hundred guys.”

Just like that, he wants to slap himself all over again. 

You've been fucking around with a hundred other guys because you wanted me? Tell me how that makes sense, honey, because it doesn't make a goddamn inch of sense to me.

He hates himself. He hates himself so much, and he'll never be good enough to—

She's laughing. 

Why the fuck is she laughing?

“You have a tendency to get mad,” she says, still snickering a little. “And when you get mad, you run your mouth. I was hurt and drained and fucking humiliated from being the bitch dumb enough to date him for two years. And what you said hurt. But I shouldn't have walked away.” She shrugs. “Wasted so much time already.”

He shakes his head, vaguely unable to comprehend what she's saying. “How…” He clears his throat. “How can you say that? I was a fucking asshole. I called you—”

“You didn't call me anything.” She picks up a lemon and inspects it. “How do you feel about lemon meringue?”

“I've never had it.” He grasps her wrist. “What are you saying, Fox?”

“I’m saying that we've both been idiots. How have you never tried lemon meringue?”

“Mom never made it.” He slips his hand under her hood and cradles the back of her head. Look at me, he wants to say. Don't stop looking at me. “I’m sorry, Fox. I’m sorry for everything I said. I pressured you. I was so angry for what that dickhead had done to you, and I was so desperate for you, I didn't give you the space you needed. I am… so. Fucking. Sorry.” 

He shakes his head and shifts his thumb to trace the edge of her jaw, eyeing the nasty bruise. “You took a bullet for me. You and your infinite fucking wisdom. Jesus, you’re perfect. Knowing how much the world has burned you… It kills me, baby. I never wanted to hurt you, too, and I did. Don't forgive me. Please.”

Don't forgive me until I’ve earned it. I’ll never earn it. You're too good for this world, Foxy. You're too good for me. 

She lifts her hand to his, her fingers curling gently around his wrist. She hasn't stopped looking at him, her breaths coming a bit shorter, a bit bruised. “Frankie,” she whispers. “There's someone watching us by the doors. Don’t look.” 

His stomach plummets. He threads his fingers through hers and keeps her tucked to his side as they bypass the produce and head straight for the canned food aisle. “Grab what you need,” he says. “Make it heavy.”

A good makeshift weapon: a bag full of cans. He doesn't have his gun on him. It’s in the glove box. Fuck. She begins to swipe canned corn, beans, and ravioli into their reusable bag and he never lets go of her hand. “Relax,” she says, hoisting the bag up onto her shoulder and rubbing his arm in soothing lines. Up and down. Up and down. “It's okay, Frank. You're with me.”

He wants to believe her, but he's panicking. “Got everything?” he asks, trying to keep his posture casual even as his mind shifts gears. Keep your eyes open. Be ready. Keep her safe. 

For the love of all good things, keep her safe. 

“I’m ready,” she says easily, not a hint of her anxiety translating to her face. “Could’ve used that lemon, though.”

“If you want to bake for me so badly, honey, just tell me,” he says, not looking at her, keeping his head on a swivel for the someone she was talking about. “Describe him to me.”

“Tall, white, wearing all black,” she says quietly. They make their way toward the checkout. He wants to grab her hand and run to the truck, but they can't exactly smuggle out a bag filled with clanking metal cans. 

She reaches the counter first and smiles at the man behind it, immediately rushing to place all their items on the belt. “The man in all black,” she whispers to the man, never once dropping her smiling façade, “he’s got a gun. Please call the cops. I think he's following us.”

They both crowd together to shroud the cashier from view as he carries on bagging their groceries at the same time he reaches under the counter and presses the panic button. “How will you be paying?” he asks, all-too easily. 

Frankie looks behind him. The man, not facing them, rings out a single banana at the opposite register. The woman behind it looks polite but faintly rattled. He gathers the girl at his side a little closer, tucking an arm around her waist and slipping his hand into the pocket of the sweatshirt she wears. 

“Thank you,” says the cashier when she hands him a folded handful of bills. Frankie guesses he's thanking them for more than the money. “Have a great day. Stay safe out there.”

They both nod their thanks and walk as briskly as they can out of the store without drawing suspicion. Frankie doesn't hear any footsteps behind him, but he still fumbles with the keys in his rush to get her in the vehicle. 

She's got one foot still planted on the side step when she hazards a glance toward the doors of the Food World, and screams, “Frankie, down!”

He ducks at the same time he drops his shoulder to tackle her to the ground. He can't quite manoeuvre them quickly enough to prevent her from slamming hard into the ground; he watches her slam her shoulder against the asphalt at the same time the gunshot goes off. Frankie lands hard on his back, but they're both scrambling to get behind the truck. There isn't time to lick their wounds. The cans have spilled from the bag under the truck. One, filled with baked beans, nudges Frankie’s foot and rolls to a stop.

He keeps his hand pressed against her back as they move, grounding himself in her. She's still alive. He's going to keep it that way. “Fuck,” she says, daring to peek around the truck. “It’s him. Plus another guy at our eleven o’clock.”

“Get in the bed of the truck,” he says, handing her the can. “Smash the back window and crawl inside. Get the gun from the glove box. I’ll be right behind you.”

She nods, clinical in her analysis of the situation. Her face is grim, but she knows it’s their only option. Frankie unlatches the tailgate and pushes at her thighs to help her up while keeping her body as low as possible. She cracks the window with the edge of the can, but it takes three total hits to break the glass. It seems only one of the men is armed, the one who had followed them into the Food World. The other is making his way around the vehicle to flank them. Frankie ducks low to avoid one shot in particular, and he can hear it whizz past his ear. She’s inside the truck, crawling toward the glove box and wrenching it open. She flicks off the safety, leans out the broken window, and aims for the man closest to Frankie: the one holding the gun, who’s currently trying to kill him. 

It makes his ears ring. The shot fires hardly a foot away from his left ear, but he knows who’s fired it, so he doesn’t flinch. Next to him, he hears a body topple and flips onto his back. She hops out of the truck and checks to make sure the man is dead before she circles the truck to accost the other. 

Only he isn’t there. 

“Frank?” she says, not meeting his eyes, still scanning her surroundings. “Where—”

It happens too quickly. Too quickly, even, for Frankie to bark a warning. He can only watch in terror as the man springs out from behind the gas pump and tackles her to the ground. She loses her grip on the gun in the tussle, her head smacking hard against the pavement. Visibly dazed, eyes unfocused, she reaches blindly for the man’s throat, but he pins down her arms at her sides, his thighs bracketing her writhing legs as she tries, unavailingly, to kick him in the balls. 

Frankie doesn’t think when he acts. Terror and rage flood him. They are thick and cloying in his throat. They cloud the reason. The methodical soldier flees. 

He’s bigger than the man atop her. He’s also angrier. His body barrels into him, knocks him aside, sending them both rolling across the ground. Frankie doesn’t reach for the gun. He doesn’t even try to. He just balls his hand into a fist and breaks the man’s noise. 

Blood sprays, splattering the man’s face and Frankie’s knuckles as he yelps, a gurgled, helpless cry. But Frankie doesn’t stop. He can’t. He won’t. He punches, again and again and again. The face is a target, a pinkish round thing with eyes and a crooked nose and a mouth. The nose splits at the bridge, blood seeping. The whites of the eyes stain red. Blood vessels snap. Lips swell. At some point, the target stops crying, stops moving. He’s piloting, he’s in control, he’s so fucking out of control he can barely see. 

Cyclic stick. Window panes. Rotor blades. Scope. Rooftop. Stars. Laughter. Her. 

“Frankie.” 

The target is red now. Blood and skin and bone. His own split knuckles, beginning to hurt. His senses sharpen at the sound of his voice, but he doesn’t stop. Only slows down. He can’t stop. What if he gets back up? 

What if he hurts her again?

Faintly, he registers her stumbling toward him, hands and knees, desperate. Clawing at him. “Frankie,” she says. “Frankie, he’s down. Please. You’re done. It’s done.”

Finally, he pitches backward, as if someone has thrown him off the body beneath him. It’s the only way he can imagine stopping. He wants to go back for more, but her hands are there: one on his chest, pressing against his heart and calming the erratic beating, and the other cupping his face in her palm, like he’s something to be cherished. 

“You did it,” she pants. His hands fly backward, slapping against the asphalt to keep himself from tumbling onto his back. She’s still holding him. 

There’s a thin dribble of blood on her temple. It’s minimal. It’s nothing. But his hand flies to the nape of her neck. “You’re bleeding,” he croaks.

She laughs again, a bit raspy, a bit hysterical. “So are you.”

“He…” Frankie swallows, thick, smoke and fire and fear. “I didn’t see him.”

“Neither did I.” She kisses him on the forehead. It’s gentle, so gentle, and when it’s over, she rests her forehead on his. “Hear that?”

He does. Sirens. The police have arrived. “Means we need to get up,” she says. “Are you all right, Frank? Can you get up?”

She shifts back to help him stand, but he blurts out, “Wait. Wait.”

Panic flitting across her face, she returns to him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head vaguely, not really feeling it, his vision sharpening to her. Her eyes are her mouth and her mouth is her nose and her nose is her ears. She’s whole and she’s here, in front of him, and he needs her to know. 

“I love you,” he says. 

The smile creeps up slow, but when it arrives, it knocks the breath from him. “Sounded just as good out loud as it did in my head.” Her fingers find the collar of his button-up, and she grips it hard. Her eyes bury him deep in the earth. “I love you, Francisco. But you knew that.”

“Wish I knew it sooner,” he huffs, leaning in so he can finally, finally, kiss her the way he’s wanted to for so long. 

But a shadow looms over them, and a policeman awkwardly clears his throat. “Sir, ma’am, are you able to stand up?”

~

One policeman was all the department could spare, apparently. She and Frankie rose to greet him, explaining the situation as best they could. The man, unconscious but not quite dead on the ground, did not help Frankie’s case, but the cashier corroborated their story, having seen the entire affair through the windows of the Food World. 

They were questioned for too fucking long at the station. They were supplied with a bag of ice for his knuckles, and another for the gash in her temple, as if to make up for keeping them there for ten hours. The bloodied man confessed, once he woke up from his Frankie-induced nap: a lackey for a trafficking ring who was enlisted to kill her for getting too close. Frankie, too. 

He drives them back to the safe house instead of St. Augustine. Frankie has too much to do, too much to say. He can’t stand any more car rides in total silence. 

“So,” she sighs when she follows him inside, “that was a total fucking—mmmph!”

With a grumbling sound from deep in his chest and a faint shake of his head—why fucking wait?—Frankie crowds her, the door closing at her back, and slants his mouth to fit hers. 

Her hand flies up to cup his cheek, keeping him close, the other at his back. His strong back, his broad shoulders, the scruff of his patchy beard. Fuck, she can feel all of it. Frankie keeps it gentle, holding back, his hand finding a home at the back of her neck. He just kisses her. 

She smells like oranges and blood and… fuck, like him, still wearing his sweatshirt. And kissing him. His head is spinning, his chest tightening, her perfect fist wrapped around his heart, squeezing until it pops. He wants it to. He wants to die here. He's finally here, and he's kissing the girl of his dreams. Love taps at the barricade of his skull, knocking at his ribs, asking to come in. He opens all of him. 

“I love you,” he says, grinning against her mouth. “Fucking love you.”

She laughs breathlessly when their teeth clack together, but neither of them can hold back their smile. “You saved my life,” she says, lifting the cap off his head so she can tangle her fingers in his hair, too-long since its last cut. “The scales are balancing, Francisco.”

He laughs, too, somewhat delirious from the taste and the smell of her, nudging his nose against hers. “Can you feel it?” he asks, placing his palm over her years-old bullet wound. 

“I feel it everywhere,” she says, angling his head so he can't help but look her in the eye. Good. He wants to see all of her, all the time. “Tell me again.”

He puts his forehead to hers and kisses the tip of her nose. “I love you. Te amo. Can’t fucking help it.”

She scans his face, eyes pleading. Outside, a bird chirps. He's surprised to discover that life exists outside the two of them. 

“I want you to show me,” she says. 

And he will. God, he will. She is the air he breathes. He kisses her like it, dipping his head low to catch her mouth again, harder and firmer, opening up her mouth for him. He slides his tongue against hers and swallows every needy sigh she loosens from her chest. His hand slides from her hip to her back, splaying his fingers underneath his sweatshirt and pressing her to him. 

“Frankie,” she whispers. The force of such a gentle plea tears at him, rends all his limbs apart, and catches on what's left of his restraint. A fish hook. It tugs until he bleeds, an open wound for her. 

He pulls away just long enough to grasp at the sweatshirt. “Take it off, Frankie,” she says, breathless and panting. He does. He'll do anything she asks. 

It lands in a heap by the door. Underneath, she's wearing the shirt she wore this morning, a simple white tee, and he grunts in frustration. “Too many clothes,” is vaguely what comes out of his mouth as he tugs it up over her head and revels in the way her pupils dilate. He may as well go the whole nine yards, he figures, unclasping her bra and bearing her to him. Her back arches and her tits press up against his chest, keen and wanting. 

He stares for a moment, his cock an aching and persistent presence in his jeans. He doesn't know what to do first. He's obsessed. He wants to possess her, be possessed by her, sink into her until it's unclear where either of their bodies begin. “You're fucking perfect,” he says. 

“You can take a picture if you want,” she teases, pushing up against him and lifting her arms around his neck. He really fucking loves the sound of that: a small printed picture he gets to look at whenever he can't have the real thing. “But kiss me first.”

He finally gets his mouth on her again, sated and not altogether. His calloused hand finds her rib cage, fingers brushing the swell of her breast. He's too rough for her; she's delicate, smooth, perfect. He’s got a pilot’s hands. 

“Jesus. You’re so soft,” he grunts into her mouth, kissing her until her lips are bruised. He shifts to the corner of her lips, her Cupid’s bow, the gentle curves of it that fascinate him. He finds her jawline and traces it with his lips, enjoying the way her breathing begins to go shallow as he moves to her ear, biting the lobe before sucking and licking at the spot below it. 

“Frankieeee,” she mewls, grinding against him. He makes a gruff noise into her throat as he breathes her in deep, breathing in the scent of her the way a drowning man sucks in air at the ascent. 

“I know, baby,” he mumbles, slipping his hand down to her jeans and toying with the button at the same time he kisses her shoulder. 

“Want to undress you,” she says, pushing her hips up against his hand. “Please.”

Frankie’s never heard begging sound so good. He nods against her skin and pulls away, only to hoist her up and wrap her thighs around his hips. He swells a little with pride at the needy whimper that leaves her at the show of strength. “Bedroom,” he says into her ear, nipping at her lobe again. 

She nods frantically. He lowers her onto the bed and she lifts herself up to grab at his shirt. He laughs at the eagerness, but it sobers to hot and heavy arousal at the sight of her concentration, her devout eagerness to get his clothes off. He helps her shrug him out of his button-up and lifts his arms for her as she takes off his shirt. Her lips part, her pupils dark and wide, and he's stunned. Stunned by her blatant desire, her inability to hide it. “Never thought…” She trails off, chest heaving. 

“What is it, baby?”

“Never thought I’d get this,” she says earnestly, thumb stroking his jaw. “You.”

He kicks off his shoes and socks, holding her firm around the waist. She stands on her toes and kisses him, deep and true. “You've got me,” he tells her, breathing it into her mouth. “I’m yours, baby. I’ve always been.”

“Frankie.” Her lips are on his jaw, licking at the patch of skin that breaks his beard, then his throat, tasting and licking him the way she wants to. “I love you so much.”

He curses. She's revelling in him, and he loves it. He can't let go of her, can't stop himself from parting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut at the way she lavishes his throat with her mouth. She begins to make her way down his chest, sitting down on the bed so she can travel all the way down to his navel. His breathing is jagged, torn at the edges. He needs her so badly. She needs him so badly. 

“Baby…”

She hums, busy pressing kisses to his ribs, fumbling with his belt, the button, the zipper, at his jeans. 

Frankie bends down and notches his hands at the back of her thighs, half-tossing her farther up the bed. He pulls off jeans and boxers and briefly allows himself to grin at the sight of her sucking in a breath when his cock slaps against his stomach, hard and leaking. He isn't an idiot. He knows he's big. And it feels fucking good to know she wants him. 

He crawls up her body and tilts her chin up so he can kiss her. “I want to taste you,” he says. She gasps when he cups the heat of her through her jeans. 

“Please,” she says, writhing against him. Frankie yanks those godforsaken jeans down with little mercy, and she chokes out a laugh. “You really hate those things.”

“They're his.” Frankie tosses them across the room. “I want you to walk out of here forgetting he ever touched you… His fucking hands on you.”

She grounds him with a thumb brushing over his chin. “I’m yours,” she says. “Yours, Francisco.”

He grabs her ankle and locks it around his hip, forcing her legs to spread wide. The wet spot on her pink panties is unmistakable. “Mine,” he says under his breath, pressing his palm against her clit through her underwear. She whines his name. “Fuck, honey. You’re mine, huh?”

She nods, lifting herself into her elbows to watch him peel her panties down her legs. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I am. Please…”

Frankie’s cock twitches at the sight of her glistening core. He shifts onto his stomach and, without warning, spreads her folds with two fingers and flattens his tongue against her slit. “Ohhh!” she cries, thighs trembling at the first touch. “Fuck… Frank…”

He flicks his tongue against her clit and presses his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the ache in his cock. Her moan is long and low, her hands grabbing, needy, nestling in his hair and holding on. He groans at the taste of her, the sweetness, nectar and sharp tang, so wet for him. For him. 

Frankie can't get enough. She tastes so good, and she moans so loudly for him, out here in the middle of nowhere, that he can't find it in himself to pull away from her cunt. Instead, he wraps a hand around her thigh as the other presses down against her belly to keep her still. He licks her clit until she's quivering and shifts to her entrance, circling it with his tongue before plunging inside and lapping up the slick that pours from her. She cries out with pleasure when his thumb circles her clit. 

“Your fingers,” she pleads, brows drawn up in the middle. “Want your fingers.”

Her face, flushed and needy, might make him come on the mattress. “You want my fingers, baby?” he says softly, still swiping her clit while his lips occupy themselves with kissing her inner thighs, the so-soft skin there. 

“Wanna know how it feels… to be one of your helicopters,” she says with a breathless laugh. 

He hums, bringing her clit into his mouth and sucking hard. She screams his name. “You're not a machine,” he says. 

“You fly them like you wanna fuck them,” she gasps, writhing as he suctions his lips to her clit again. 

He smacks the side of her thigh. “Only wanna fuck you. If you'll stay still.”

“Oh, please.” 

He can't tell if it's a genuine plea or her smart mouth, but he wants to see her come so badly he doesn't respond. He dives back in, sucking and lapping at her clit as two fingers trace her hole and sink in to the knuckle, prodding at her front wall. “Fucking wet,” he mumbles against her, but it's lost in the vibrations that make her cry out from the stimulation. 

“F—fuck, Frank, I…” Her eyes are unfocused, but he keeps his on her nonetheless. “I’m gonna… fuck—!”

He presses his fingers up against that spongy spot and laps at her clit while she comes, drenching his fingers in her hot slick. “Fuck,” she croaks, her body melting into the mattress. “That was…”

“Not over.” He sits up and leans over her, locking her leg around his hip and kissing her deeply. She’s boneless and pliant in his arms as he manhandles her hips up onto his thighs, sliding his cock through her wetness. She shivers. “I need you, baby,” he rasps. “Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Want you inside me, Frankie,” she says. “Fuck me, please. Make me yours.”

It's all he needs. Frankie pushes the head of his cock past her entrance and squeezes his eyes shut at the hot tightness of her. “Jesus.”

“You're big, Frank,” she says with a strained laugh. “Fuck, you're so—big!” 

He pushes more of himself inside and groans at the unrelenting grip of her walls around him. It's airtight, it's wet, it's fucking heaven. He's died. He must have. 

“I can take it,” she moans, her foot pressing at the small of his back, trying to pull more of him inside her. “I can, Frankie.”

She's so determined, so adorable in the way her brow scrunches, and he's so in love. He pushes inside until their hips are flush together and feels embarrassed by how good it is, so soon. It's been too long since he's buried himself inside a woman’s body, and hers is sending him fucking soaring. “Fucking… Hold still, honey. Can’t—fuck, you're so tight. Don't move. Just give me a second.”

She grins, head falling back into the pillow. “Can't… do that… to a helicopter.”

Frankie pulls out halfway and thrusts inside her sharply, hissing at the spark of pleasure that ricochets off his spine. “Smartass,” he grits out, relishing in the way she blindly reaches for the bedsheets and curls them in her hands. 

“Frankie, honey, fuck me,” she says, rocking her hips against his. 

He does. Of course he does. 

Frankie begins to move inside her, establishing a rhythm that gets her moaning under him. He fucks her the way she wants; he fucks her to make her his, forever. He gets so deep inside her he feels his head prod her womb, and it doubles him over. 

He drapes his body over her and humps her like an animal, kissing her until their mouths can barely fit together with the harsh thrusts that shift her body up the bed. His lips latch onto her jaw, nipping at it, then her shoulder, holding her body with the reverence it deserves, fucking into her until she's crying on his cock. 

Frankie lifts her legs up onto his shoulders and bends her in fucking half. “Fuck!” she screams. “Frankie!”

“Hold on, baby.” She brings her hands around her thighs, and the angle deepens deliciously. He fucks her hard, biting the flesh of her calf, grunting about how good she is, how good she takes him, wrapped around his cock. 

She drinks it in, swallowing thickly. “Wanted you… so long…”

He's punching the breath out of her, and he gently unwinds her hands from her thighs so they fall back down around his hips. He hooks a foot in the crook of her knee and rolls them over until she's on top. He places his hand on her belly. “Feel me?” he says, bucking his hips up into her. 

She chokes on whatever she was about to say and lets her head fall back. When her eyes meet his, they're lidded, lashes spidery on her cheeks and her gaze heavy with lust. “I feel you,” she says. “Fuck, you're so big. So deep.”

He plants his feet on the mattress and holds onto her hips, grinding her against him. She shudders, grasping his shoulders, when her clit rubs up against his navel. “No fuckin’ idea,” he grunts, “how long I’ve been picturing this.”

“You ever dream of me?” she asks, her hair falling over her shoulders. The one and only deity he’s ever believed in. “I dreamed about you,” she confesses, squeezing her breasts in her hands. Frankie can’t believe what he’s seeing or hearing, even though he’s balls-deep inside her. “Touched myself thinking about you. Thought about you taking me… Fuck, I think I’m dreaming.”

He takes two handfuls of her ass and bounces her hard on his cock. She yelps, nails digging into his shoulder. “That feel like a dream, baby?” he says. “You have any idea how crazy you make me? Every time you fucking touched me, smiled at me… Jesus, eres tan… so beautiful.”

“Frankie,” she moans. “It was so hot watching you beat the shit out of him for me.” She glides long and slow up and back down his length, guided by his hands bruising her hips. “Fuck, you’re so strong.”

Frankie is lightheaded from the admission. He threads his fingers through her hair and pulls her down to him by the back of her head, baring his teeth against her cheek and he fucks up into her. It’s deep and she’s helpless in this position, taking his cock and clinging to him with cries of his name. “You like me protecting you?” he rasps into her ear. “Like me getting all bloody for you?”

“Fuck—yes!” she gasps. 

“Show me how much you like it,” he says. “Ride me.”

And oh, she rides him. It's like she's possessed, a feral little fox, lifting her hips until he's barely inside her and twisting on the way back down. His vision goes white with the feeling of it. “Fucking… Muy bien… No puedo… Baby, you're so good.”

She rocks on him, grinds, bounces, until he's seeing stars burst behind his eyes. It's good. It's really good. She just keeps going, riding him hard, the shitty mattress squeaking under their bodies. He squeezes her tits in his rough hands, pinching her nipples. Her moans turn to whimpers. 

He sits up and pulls out of her abruptly. She protests vaguely, but she’s so cockdrunk she can barely form words as he flips her onto her stomach and secures a pillow under hips. He has the perfect view of her ass from her, her head turned as far toward him as she can manage, cheek pressed into the mattress. He places a hand on the small of her back. Frankie slides into her from behind, and her moan is so loud, so desperate, that he begins to fuck her without mercy, without abandon. 

“Ohhhhh… Frank—fuck, I can’t… fuck!” 

“Yeah, you can,” he coos, grinding deep, pressing up against her front wall. Her ass arches up against him. “Are you my girl?”

She nods frantically, her cheek scratching the mattress as the force of his thrusts rock her entire body. “I’m your girl. I’m your girl.”

“Nobody fucks with my girl.” He pounds her so hard the room echoes with the sounds of his hips slapping against her ass, the squelching of her wet cunt around him. “My—perfect—girl.”

“Fuck. ‘M gonna come, Frankie,” she moans, face-down, fisting the bedsheets. 

He can feel it. She’s squeezing the life out of him, trapping him inside her, begging for his cum. “Where?” He barely manages to push out the question. 

“Inside,” she pleads. “Fuck, inside me, please. I want your cum.”

He can’t refuse her. He doesn’t want to. “I’ll give it to you, baby. Come for me.”

She stiffens and shudders, moaning his name and pulsating around his cock. He works her through it, thrusting shallow and urging himself toward his own peak, until she collapses onto the mattress and mewls like a fucking cat. “I love you, Frankie,” are the words he hears.

He does, pushing himself all the way inside her until he can’t even see his fucking cock anymore. He drowns her cunt in his hot cum, spilling deep and groaning her name, all while her pussy flutters around him and urges more, more, more out of him. When he finishes, he collapses on top of her, a canopy over her back, his lips finding her shoulder. He can’t muster the energy to pull out of her, let alone move, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

“My big strong man,” she giggles. 

He huffs against her skin, moving to the crook of her neck, where he buries his face. “Fucking Fox.”

“Yeah, baby, you just did.” She’s still giggling, and it’s infectious. He grins into her throat, laughing until he’s wheezing. 

“Jesus Christ,” he manages, certain he’s smearing tears of laughter all over her. “We should probably eat dinner.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “Can you move? Because I’m not. And I can’t.”

He’s still chuckling. “I’m on top of you, baby. ‘Course you can’t move.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” She reaches around his head and scratches her fingers at the nape of his neck. He purrs against her. “We’ll eat when we wake up. Go to sleep, Frankie. I’ll be here when you open your eyes.”

He shifts off her slightly, pulling out of her as he moves onto his side to look into her eyes. He tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s matted with sweat and his manhandling. “I love you,” he tells her, just because he can. Because she loves him, too. 

She grins, sleepy and worn. “Wake me up,” she whispers, her fingers lovingly tracing the grey in his beard, “whenever you’d like. However you’d like.”

He can’t help but squeeze her ass where his hand rests on it. “You serious?”

“I’m always serious, Francisco.” Her eyes flutter shut, and he doesn’t say another word. 

He lets her sleep and watches until he follows.

~

He blinks awake to her hair tickling his nostrils, her soft back flush against his chest. He's seen her asleep before, memorised the way she looks when her lips are slightly parted and her even breathing gently rustles the hair in her face. He's so familiar with it. But he's never seen it so close, never felt the way her warm naked body curls gently into his, never been able to smell the lingering scent of citrus and sweat that clings to her. He's never been able to lean in and kiss her shoulder the way he does now. 

She's yours. 

Frankie is aware of his hard cock, slotted against the cleft of her asscheeks, needy for a wet, hot place to bury itself inside. He's aware of the way her body looks so tempting, so sweet. As his brain comes slowly to life, he becomes aware of the words she said last night. 

Wake me up however you'd like. 

He bites back a groan when she shifts in her sleep, her ass rocking back against his erection. Frankie reaches between their bodies and swipes two fingers through her folds. She's wet. No, she’s fucking soaked. 

I dreamed about you. 

Maybe she still does. 

Still slick with his cum and her own arousal, she’ll take him so easily. It's blinding. Frankie's mind goes hazy with need, his body acting independently of his mind. He lifts her thigh and hooks it back around his hip, slotting his cock at her entrance. In her sleep, she hums, and the gentle sound rattles around in his head as he slides his cock inside her until he bottoms out. 

He has to let out the rumbling sound that tears at his throat, so he buries his face in her throat and begins to fuck her from behind, pushing out little breaths of exertion into her skin. 

“Mmmmmfrankie,” she mumbles, her eyes still closed, body still limp and malleable. 

It’s deafening. She grips him so tightly, her walls sucking at him, begging for him. Frankie kisses the spot below her ear, sloppy and desperate, coaxing her awake with each languid drag of his cock. 

“Frank,” she gasps, her eyes cracking open, her head turning, her lips seeking his, desperate and fuzzy with desire.

“Needed you, baby,” he groans, fucking her harder now that she's awake. She whispers his name, her voice crackling with sleep, still not coherent but grabbing greedily at his cock with her cunt. “So fucking good. Wet for me even in your sleep, huh? Muy hermosa, can't take you anywhere.”

She whimpers, head resting on his shoulder, lifting her arm just to bring him closer to him, fingers threading in his messy hair. He gravitates to her, lips on her ear, her jaw, her shoulder, every-fucking-where. “Gonna… gonna keep me locked up here?” she says, throat clicking with drool. “Fuck me whenever you want?”

Frankie grinds, making her cry out, gasping with the effort of taking him so deep, pressing up against the spot he knows will make her crumble. Stardust on his fingers. “Maybe I will,” he muses. “Nobody can fuckin’ touch you that way.”

“Frankie!” she screams, but it's muted, croaking with disuse. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

She's a mess around him, debauched and so beautiful, pinching each knob of his spine with the pleasure it gives him to see her break because of him. It’s disarming. 

He hooks her leg higher, securing his arm around her thigh, pulling it back, fucking her harder. Deeper. He's so deep he knows it’ll take. It’ll fucking take, and—

It won't. She's got an implant. But fuck, Frankie imagines, rutting into her like a fucking monster, pressing up against her womb and giving her a piece of him that connects them forever. He reaches around her body and rubs her clit because he's about to come, and she comes first. She has to. 

She does. Crying out his name, grabbing at him with her needy hands, she soaks his cock. Fucking soaks it, her slick sticky on his thighs and making it oh, so easy to take her harder, deeper still. The sounds are filthy and obscene and wet, and he tangles his fingers in her hair to pull her head backward. She's squirming and squeezing around him, begging for him to come inside her. 

He does. Spurt after spurt of hot cum finds its home at the deepest part of her, and there's so much it dribbles out around his cock and mingles with her own wetness. Frankie groans into her ear as he comes, rocking shallowly, not stopping until he's given her all of it. The slick noise as he pulls out makes his cock twitch even more, but they're both tired, spent, and in need of a shower. 

“Oh my God,” she mutters into the pillow, panting. “I can't walk.”

Frankie chuckles, sliding off the bed and tugging on her ankle. She protests with a little whine. “You're cute, baby, but don't be lazy. Gotta clean you up.”

“Don't wanna,” she says, wiggling her ass at him, giving him a glimpse of the cum slipping out of her hole, the mess he made of her body. 

He covers her body with his and bites the flesh of her asscheek. “Frankie!” she squeals. 

“Get up,” he says, giving the bite mark a gentle smack.

She finally turns over and, pouting, follows him into the bathroom. “You think it's over?” she asks him, locking the door behind them even though nobody else is in the house. Force of habit. 

Frankie turns on the shower and places his fingers underneath the stream to test the temperature. “If it isn't,” he says, “we’ll figure it out.”

She smiles up at him. “You need a haircut, Francisco.”

“Lost my favourite hairdresser for a bit,” he says, pulling her naked body up against him. “Made some mistakes.”

“Maybe she'll take on her favourite client again,” muses his girl, brushing his hair away from his forehead with her fingers. “We waited so long, Frankie.”

Her voice holds melancholy, the drip of knowing misery that they've wasted years yearning. But Frankie kisses her forehead and cradles the back of her head. “You and your infinite wisdom, baby. Don’t you have something for me?”

She laughs, and it's like the bells at midnight. “I’m fresh out,” she whispers, resting her cheek against his chest. “But maybe my wisdom is that I love you. It’s the best choice I’ve ever made.”

THE END.

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Chapter 7 (NEW)

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Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

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Robin sat next to me and Rikaad, absentmindedly stuffing flowers into his mouth and making even more flower crowns out of those he didn't eat.

Rikaad stood up and looked towards the mountain.

“We should continue our journey after eating we still have some ways to go especially now that we had to flee from the Arachnids”

That much was true.

I had run a good distance away from those things and not in the direction we were headed but rather perpendicular to the mountain.

“Aw fuck but at least we know now how to avoid those critters at least”

Standing up slowly I picked up the flowers that weren't eaten and went over to Arthur, pouring the plants over him to which he reacted by sitting up abruptly and glaring at me.

“That's for stabbing me”

I went back over to the other two without a word.

Robin was laughing but Rikaad was looking rather displeased.

Fuck, i hoped i would not get murdered in my sleep for this.

He did not do anything else and instead turned away from the mountains and started walking back into the woods.

Arthur finally got up and went over to walk next to Rikaad, still glaring at me and tearing into some of the flowers I had tossed over him like an angry dog.

Robin ran up to me and motioned for me to pick him up again, so I once again offered him my hand to climb on.

Arthur did not look happy about it, he probably expected Robin to be scared of me now, honestly I was too so I was glad that it wasn't the case.

Cupping the ginger boy closer to my chest I tried to not walk too fast for the other two.

“You're lazy, ginger boy”

I quipped to the small human in my hands.

“I know”

He just grinned and lounged back against my chest.

The two that were walking by themselves kept looking at my hands, or more specifically the Rusthead that occupied them.

They were probably worried that I would do something.

I tried my best to not be offended and attributed it to what happened earlier instead.

It was a walk in silence for a few minutes until Arthur piped up.

“How long do you think we have to walk? Till we get home i mean”

It took a few moments before Rikaad responded.

“I would guess a few more days but i'm not familiar with the landscape here”

I was sure that as long as we went opposite of the mountain we couldn't go too wrong.

After all, the only thing we could run into would be the ocean if we somehow missed the Kingdom entirely so we would just have to walk along the shore to find civilization.

The redhead in my hands abruptly stood up and I tried my best to not let him fall over on the uneven surface.

“Maybe if Donovan held me over the trees I could see something?”

All of us looked at him a bit alarmed at his suggestion.

While not out of character for him to come up with such a dumb idea it might actually work.

I just wasn't sure how to go about something like that, What if I didn't hold him correctly and dropped him?

The smaller men apparently had similar thoughts as Arthur immediately bristled.

“That a dumb idea! And Dangerous too! What if you fall? You'll break your legs!”

Rikaad however seemed to mull it over.

“It might give insight as to where we currently are but i'm not sure if its a good idea, it might be dangerous if we don't find a way to do secure you this high up”

I looked down at the rusthead, trying to think of a way to hold him that would not result in him falling to the ground should he continue moving like a hyperactive mouse.

“I mean I could? I just would have to hold you i guess”

The Ginger boy nodded enthusiastically and sat down again, his legs straight out forward waiting for me to lift him over the trees.

Taking a few seconds to think of how to do it, I ended up grabbing his lower half in a gentle fist, leaving his arms and torso free.

I really hoped having his legs secure up to his waist would be good enough as he was a rather fidgety little guy.

Since it seemed alright like this I began to slowly lift him over my head, ignoring the death glare Arthur sent me and Rikaad’s icy gaze that lingered on me.

Having Robin so far over my head with my arm completely outstretched I felt like it was rather dumb looking but ignored it at his excited shout.

“I can see a tower! It's a good bit away still but i think we can make it today if we're fast!!”

He was pointing to a spot a tiny bit to our right and away from the mountain still.

That was weird, if anything I would have guessed that I'd be more to our left and farther away too.

How fast had I run away from those spiders?

Attributing it to adrenaline I slowly put Robin down to the ground again making sure not to go too fast to avoid making him dizzy.

He hopped off my hand as soon as he could and went over to the other two.

“I think we can make it today! If we go fast now!”

He grabbed both of their arms and began Dragging them along.

I slowly shuffled behind.

I felt weird over this piece of information.

I didn't know if I was sad or not about the fact that they all would be out of my life soon.

On one hand Robin was extremely nice to me and Rikaad seemed to at least tolerate me, but Arthur seemed to just plain dislike me completely.

Well I wouldn't have to worry about that soon as I couldn't go back to the City anyway, and Humans did not belong in the forest at all.

Slowly dragging my feet over the ground after them I was glad that at least one with Robin dragging them along it was a bit faster and I did not have to stop as much anymore.

It took a few hours to get anywhere close enough that everyone else could see the mentioned tower too, but something was off about it.

The tower looked well kept and clean, even the flags swaying in the light breeze that had warmed up the air since we ran from the spiders looked recently washed.

Wait a second the flags were wrong.

Instead of the yellow star on pale blue ground with the red ring around it it depicted two weird dark blue sickle moons on gray ground.

This was not Kamerasca.

We had walked all the way to the neighboring Kingdom Maringand instead of back to our own Kingdom.

Well this still wasn't so bad, civilisation was civilisation after all.

And the small humans could probably just hitch a ride on a traders cart or something.

Looking down I saw them looking rather confused, and Arthur looked downright frightened for whatever reason.

He probably thought he'd be home by now and realized that he had to walk even more through dangerous territory now.

Robin turned to look between me and Rikaad with puppy eyes.

“How do we go back to Kamerasca now? Donovan can't go through Maringand with us”

I kneeled down to be more at level with them, ignoring whatever Arthur was doing a bit further back.

“I'm Not going with you from this point anymore, i'm going back into the woods, i can't go anywhere near a city anymore as a Giant”

I stood back up as Robin tried to come up with something to say.

“But- but we-uh we are not in Kamerasca yet! You said you'd stay till we got there!”

That was not technically true.

“I said i'd stay with you until we got to a city not that it HAD to be Tunstead, besides only half of this group seems to not hate me so it's better if i just go”

I turned away from the small humans and slowly went away from them into the forest once again, but this time completely alone.

I was not sure what I would do now seeing as I only went Giant rather recently but would make due, I always did.

Having my back turned to them I suddenly heard the telltale CLACK of a bolt being shot from a crossbow.

Feeling it embed itself in my shoulder blade I turned around as fast as I could while ripping it out, thinking I had been betrayed by Rikaad as he was the only one with a crossbow.

As soon as I had turned completely a second bolt was shot straight into my collarbone and another was shot too quickly to have been reloaded into my upper leg.

Already starting to feel the effects of what had to be even more Sedative than last time I tried to figure out where it was coming from while falling to my knees once again.

Looking at a point behind the smaller men I saw an entire group of actual Guards, Guards from Maringand not Kamerasca, had surrounded us on half a side and with the Tranquilliser running through my bloodstream I could not do anything as I fell to the ground completely.

With my Vision Darkening from the edges the last thing I saw was Arthur shoving Robin in Rikaad’s direction before being tackled by at least five Guards into the ground as he tried to run away, now writhing like a man possessed under the heavier humans.

The last thing I heard was Robin shouting something but the words would not register in my brain.

Then everything went completely dark and I was left alone in Nothingness.

Some time passed, and then slowly there was something more than blackness… there was a slight sound… a very very distant thudding.

I frowned in my semi-consciousness… confused by the sound’s presence when just a moment ago there had been soft, fuzzy silence and comfort.

I knew I was lying on the floor, and the ground was a lot harder than the dirt in the forest.

My eyes flickered open to gray dimness, pupils immediately dilating and constricting to adjust to the scarce light, okay… so what was going on?

My thoughts were confused, and I didn't seem to have the capability to move just yet… So… That noise?

A little voice of reason in the back of my head spoke out, ‘That's your heartbeat genius’.

Okay… so i was alive then… or at least… I felt like I was…

Another couple of minutes passed before i regained the ability to move, and i sat up very slowly, putting a hand to the back of my head and rubbing my scalp, trying to recall what had landed me wherever I was now.

Then in a flash I remembered what had happened.

Oh Fuck.

Well one thing after the other, so where the hell was i?

Firstly I seemed to be in a circular room , the tower we had seen maybe?

Looking a bit more it seemed that the only light came from a window way up overhead.

I couldn't reach it even if I wanted to, but at least I had some light to work with.

A ray of dusty light came down all the way to one of the walls and I moved to sit in the sunbeam, there that was better.

Scanning the walls a bit there were small doors laid into the solid Brickwork, about three small ones and one larger one where I had to be brought inside through.

Looking a bit more up I saw the ceiling way way over me, This tower must be huge!

And on what I assumed was an upper floor there were balconies built, still out of reach for me even if I jumped as high up as I could.

So i was taken captive, fuck.

I wasn't sure what would happen to me now, would they keep me as a sort of twisted monster pet? Or would they toss me into an arena to be defeated by a gladiator?

None of the options running through my head were very appealing.

I wondered what had happened to the trio of small humans that I had tagged along with and hoped they were alright.

I knew at least Arthur had a problem when I got shot as the last thing I saw was him tackled into the ground by five soldiers.

Before I could dwell further about the whereabouts of the smaller men though, The smallest door opened for about five seconds and an unconscious person was thrown in.

The person was facing away from me lying in a heap and looking closer was wearing the Kamerasca tunic, all other Armour had been stripped away.

Getting slowly closer I recognized the Blonde hair and Identified him as Arthur.

Of all the people to be thrown into my cell it had to be the one that had an inherent dislike for me, of course.

Still I wanted to make sure he was alive as sharing a cell with a corpse wasn't something I was looking forward to.

And I didn't really believe he deserved to die even if he was an asshole to me.

Not to mention Robin would be sad.

So I gently shook the limp form of the Guard apprentice hoping to get a reaction.

The thing I got was a pained groan and his arms twitching a bit.

“Arthur? Wake up, are you okay? You're not dying on me here right? I don't want a rotting corpse in my cell”

My voice seemed to draw him a bit further out of his sorry state and he started moving to sit up.

I went a bit away from him to the opposite wall of the pit we were trapped in.

“Wha- whas goin onnn?”

He seemed to have trouble identifying where he was and I surmised he got whacked on the head or something.

“We got caught by Maringand dipshit”

He looked thoroughly alarmed by that for reasons that probably went beyond me, I hadn't really taken my time to keep an ear out for stupid politics when on the streets.

“Oh no oh no oh fuck I need to get out of here”

He was panicking and patting at the walls and trying to get the solid iron doors to open by rattling at each of them as hard as he could.

Did he have claustrophobia or something?

Well that wasn't really my problem and i didn't know what to do about it anyway.

He panicked for at least half an hour while I was watching in silence until he collapsed at the wall furthest from me to the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms over them and burying his head into the hollow it made.

“What are you panicking about? If anything i should be the one to do that seeing as i'm a Bastard and you're not”

He looked over his crossed arms at me with a sour expression.

“You don't understand, they WILL kill me i know it”

Well that wasn't vague at all, i rolled my eyes at him.

“Yeah sure, i bet i'll die before you though seeing as i'm a ‘Monster’ “

He looked at me strangely.

“That's NOT what I mean, they're probably going to put on a show for your death, but mine….well it's gonna get painful i guess”

What the fuck was he talking about? Had he been in Maringand before? Before I could think to ask him about it he had a Question himself though.

“How are you so calm? You know you are going to die and yet you just sit there?”

At least it was a coherent Inquiry for once.

“Well i guess i always expected to be caught one day, after all i was a Bastard living in the streets and i'm actually really surprised i made it this far”

He slunk back against the wall even further hiding his face once again.

It was true though, I always knew I wouldn't die of old age and likely be killed or die of some treatable disease.

Despite sitting in the only available sunbeam I still felt like it was way too dark here and something kept nagging at me.

“Arthur? Do you know what happened to the others?”

I almost didn't dare ask, as I was honestly afraid of the answer, I sincerely hoped they were okay.

“I think they're alright, Maringand doesn't really have any negative relations to the Kamerasca Citizens”

The way he said Kamerasca Citizens was a bit weird, almost as if he didn’t count himself.

“So why are you guys locked up? I mean i understand that they put me in this ugly pit, but you guys aren't even actual guards”

He shifted uncomfortably against the wall trying to hide his face even more.

“I'm Not from Kamerasca”

The quiet admission did surprise me, I had thought with how he acted absolutely loyal to Kamerasca that he was born there.

“What the fuck do you mean by that? Are you a Criminal here? Did you flee to Kamerasca or something?

He still looked incredibly uncomfortable and slid down even further on the wall, this guy was flexible as hell i noted.

“Or something is close enough i guess, i'm the son of a high ranking nobleman that was killed in a coup to take over the entire nobility of Maringand”

Of all the things I had expected it certainly was not this.

“What? You mean to tell me that you're a nobleman?? And that's why these fucks put us in this stupid prison?”

He actually seemed guilty for what had happened and looked like he tried to melt into the floor, wincing.

“I know how this sounds, but believe me i'm telling the truth, though I expected to be dead by now”

He did not have any reason to lie about Such a thing, and why would he?

That’d be absolutely idiotic if what he said about the coup was true then that just meant he’d put himself in danger by telling such a thing.

“I don’t think you are lying, it would be stupid to make that up and just put yourself in danger”

He finally looked back up from his arms.

“Yeah it would be, besides i'm an absolutely terrible actor anyways, basically everyone can attest to that, i wouldn't be able to act to save my life”

I realized that this was only the second time I had talked to Arthur that didn’t end in the use of insults or screaming.

Though looking at the dejected form of the human slouched against the wall I doubted that he had the energy to do so, and neither did I if I was honest, the sedative still made me a bit sleepy.

Before either of us could say anything more a loud Bang came from overhead, like big doors being flung open.

Looking up I realized that the noise must have come from one of the balconies, was someone there?

“WHY HASN'T THE BEAST DONE ANYTHING YET? I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!”

A loud nasally voice called from the platform, I couldn't see who the speaker was but I did hear other people speaking too albeit at a normal volume and I couldn't make out the words.

Glancing at Arthur I could see that he was looking up unconcealed dread, did he know the owner of the voice?

As I looked up again I could see a face leaning over the railing of one of the balconies. 

The most prominent feature I could make out even from all the way down here was a pair of thick bushy eyebrows that had grown together in the middle.

To the side I heard Arthur start to breathe heavily, he likely did know the owner of the voice then.

The eyebrow guy's gaze seemed to bore into me and I tried my best to remain calm. 

Just because I knew I would get killed here didn't mean I was going to accelerate my death by being an idiot.

“BEAST! TELL ME WHY THE MAN THROWN INTO YOUR CELL IS STILL ALIVE?”

What the fuck did this guy even want? Did he expect me to mindlessly kill whatever was thrown at me like a rabid dog?

Deciding to respond the best I could I also tried to remain as calm as possible.

I truly did not want to be seen as just another monster that they could put in shackles to do their bidding.

“I don't kill people, also where am I kept? I would like to leave”

I glared at him with a sour face making my disdain for the situation very clear.

The eyebrow guy did not seem to like that.

“WELL WE WILL SEE IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND ON THAT! YOU'LL NOT BE FED TILL YOU HAVE KILLED HIM BEAST!”

Before I could do anything else the loud man had already turned away out of sight and a few seconds later heard the door close.

“What the fuck dude, what do they expect? That I do what they want just cuz they don't give me food? Fat chance”

I huffed out and looked back to Arthur who had gone pale as a corpse, He was shaking and looking at me with fear in his eyes.

“You- you're not going to kill me? Why? You hate me”

I was a bit taken aback by this, had he really expected me to kill them the entire time? I tried to not let that hurt me but it still stung.

“No? Why should i? Just cuz i don't like someone doesn't mean i want them dead”

He curled up against the wall again, a sigh escaping his mouth.

“This is all my fault, i shouldn't have followed you into the forest i shouldn't have-”

“Shut up, its not your fault why the fuck would you have known what would happen?”

I interrupted him before he started swimming in self-pity.

He just groaned and put his hands over his face.

“I’m just glad that the others are fine for now, the Guards won't do anything to them seeing as killing Kamerasca Guards wouldn't look good for them”

I was relieved to hear that, but it still left the problem of being held captive.

“Do you have any idea how to get out of here?”

He looked back at me with a sad look on his face.

“No, these things were built to imprison dragons, so we don't really have a chance to get out unless someone gets us out”

This was built for dragons? Well it would make sense, seeing as the only window was way up in a gradually thinning cylinder that was likely underground.

“So we're stuck? Unless they actually let us out, which i doubt they would do”

He nodded, still slouched sadly against the curved wall.

“Maybe i can make a deal, ask them to let the others go and only kill me”

I looked at him a bit surprised, he'd actually offer his own life in exchange for letting the others free?

And would that include me too? I doubted it because he didn't like me, and even if he did try it was very unlikely that those aristocrats would agree to let a ‘dangerous Beast’ roam free.

“Are you sure about that? You are aware that dying is permanent right?”

“Of course I do! I just- I'm- This is just so dumb! I've been Terrified for like two years for exactly this!

And now I dragged my friends into it! I NEVER meant to do that!

I've been always on the lookout for anything that could kill me, and then later for anything that could kill my friends! And I failed! Twice!

I hate this! All of this!”

Oh… a few things suddenly made a bit more sense now, he wasn't really angry all this time, he was afraid, afraid to die or that i would kill him and his friends.

And as is Human Nature they don't want to be afraid, so they get angry instead, lashing out at whatever they could whether it was at fault or not.

I had completely misunderstood him the entire time, he hadn't been angry at me, he had been afraid of me!

And I didn't really do anything to help with that fear.

No wonder he was such a Grumpy dude.

Before either of us could say anything more a loud scraping sound came from one of the Balconies and a wooden construction held up with rope came into view.

A construction crane? Why would they have that here?

Arthur had gone pale again, looking up with dread as a dozen or so Guards appeared on the edges of the balconies, all holding mean looking Crossbows that were aimed at me.

Would they just shoot us both to death? They didn't move until a wooden platform was panned over the balcony hanging from the crane.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

[trashland-llamas]

Grrrr?

Sequel to Meow?

Remus kept feeling something was off about their feline friend. There was something oddly human about it's mannerisms, lately acting like it had a crush on him. More hot and cold than the usual cat. 'Remus!' Head popping up in the direction of Sirius' voice. Confused, he followed Sirius' glance, jumping back when he realized he'd over-poured the usual amount of milk needed for his cereal. 'What's got you so out of focus?' James piped in. 'Have you notice anything weird about that black cat that appears out of nowhere around us?' Sirius pretended to ignore him, making the decision to not interfere as he couldn't reveal his brother's secret. Wasn't his place either. 'Beside it being awfully loving towards you? Not really, why?' James' response did nothing to quell his nerves. 'Speak of the devil.' Sirius met Regulus' cat eye, a silent conversation happening between the brothers. The conversation dissolving into thin air.

Regulus' nerves were noticeable to his friends, causing them to ask more questions. 'Lily said she never saw you in the library yesterday.' Severus deadpanned. Raising an eyebrow when Regulus coughed, scrambling to slam a textbook over his parchment. 'Realized I had already done the potions essay when I got there, went to the black lake instead.' Biting his tongue so he didn't release the elongated hiss he wanted to. 'Okay.' Severus walked away, aloof as ever. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' Whispering to himself, Regulus quickly ran to his dorm. Dumping all his books onto his desk, except for the parchment. 'Better not be in there for an hour!' Barty shouted, banging on the bathroom door for effect.

'Follow me.' Remus read aloud the parchment in the cat's mouth. 'I better not end up getting murdered because of this.' Once again with the oddities, the cat's shoulders moved up and down as if it were laughing at him. Sirius, knowing of his brother's plan, watched the map. James giving him a confused look when he flailed his feet before throwing himself back on his bed. Proudly thinking to himself, 'my brother's getting himself a boyfriend!' He'd definitely be pinching the younger's cheeks the next time he saw him. Taking a trail familiar to Remus, they stopped halfway before reaching the Weeping Willow. Regulus directing them out of sight from the Slytherin's entry window, only wanting Remus to see what he was about to reveal. Nudging the werewolf's wrist, directing him to turn the parchment. It explained what was about to happen.

As Remus looked up from the parchment, he watched as the cat turned human. Fur shooting back into the skin, back straightening from his crouched position. 'Regulus? You're the cat.' Remus' face turned red as all the affection he's lavished the cat with came to the forefront of his memory. 'I know this is quite the shock, there's a reason why I'm showing you this.' Glad Remus hadn't ran like he thought he would when his brain short circuited. 'I like you, a lot and I'm not just saying that. I truly mean it but I understand that you only know the cat version of me.' Regulus' hands moving sporadically as he spoke as he carefully chose his words. He swore he'd have Bella remove his memory if he screwed this up, the embarrassment would be that bad.

Remus picking up on the double meaning of Regulus' confession cleared his throat. This quickly silenced the younger. 'I wouldn't mind dating you but we have to start off as friends. I think I'm owed that much.' Nodding, Regulus walked Remus back to his dorm, waving goodbye as he sneaked back to deal with a lecture from Barty. 'Did you know?' Remus tone accusatory.

'Only since last week, James has no clue. I wanted to tell you but wasn't my place.'

'I get it, I truly do. But I still hate you for it.' That sentence being the last Remus displayed regarding his anger. Well, that plus some silent treatment that Sirius took like a champ. The two still keeping James and Peter in the dark though.

[tswwwit]

the idea of dipper and bill having to act as a "normal" white fence suburdan home married couple bc of "blending in with community" to investigate some particular magical phenamone or a cult or a monster or whatever and dipper is suffering, and bill is suffering too but he's also having sick fun with horrid fascination as an insane demon does, and they ask mabel for ideas, they have a barbeque housewarming party-

-wont leave my mind, its been *days*

dipper: this sucks, people live like this???

bill: I KNOW! THIS SUCKS! *fascinated like a watching a trainwreck or natural disaster* AMAZING

Pine Tree shuts the door behind him very quietly. A gentle 'click' as the latch sets in place.

Bill looks up from where he was flipping through the newspaper. He puffs on his pipe - unlit, but hey! It's for the look of things! - and smiles.

"Hello honey!" Bill takes the pipe out of his mouth, bouncing a slipper on his foot. "How was the homeowner's association meeting?"

Pine Tree stares forward. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

Bill hums to himself, and smiles.

Domesticity! Such as it is. That wonderful white-picket fence, no magic, no monsters, and no chaos-

The paper under his hands tears slightly. Bill clears his throat, shuffling the pages. He gives up on the ruse of news-reading - whether or not those nosy assholes across the street are watching - and flips, nonchalant, right to the comics section. He already solved the crossword in his head ten minutes ago.

Easy. He's got this. It's only been, like a couple days. There are way longer cons he's played, and this one isn't the worst!

Besides.

He'll be damned if he breaks before his mortal does.

"I talked to Linda." Pine Tree's voice is flat. He slowly strides over to the window, and draws the curtains shut.

"And?" Bill prompts, sitting up a little more. Man, sapling's got a full thousand yard-gaze going! He watches with fascination.

"She's so glad to see that the," Pine Tree lifts his hands, making finger quotes. "'Non-traditional' couple is so," He swallows, holding down some simmering fury. "'Decent'" Bill's throat jumps, but. Nope, not perfect. The gagging noise still came through. But he nods, very seriously.

Acting.

"And," Pine Tree says, very slowly. Turning towards Bill, equally slow, and deliberate. "Even though she said I could water the lawn, since it's dying, now I can't water the lawn, because it violates some…" His hand clenches to a fist by his side. "Like, contractor agreement thing?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, honey!" Bill exclaims, with a perfect nineteen fifties voice - he's got that in the bag. "I'm sure it'll all work ou-"

"Except," Pine Tree strides in, planting hands on Bill's armchair, and staring him right in the face. "We're also getting fined for every day that the lawn is dead."

Bill can't help it. He snorts, face scrunching up. A full catch-22! Linda's got another thing coming, eventually. Once they track down this monster.

But hey! Bill can understand sadism, and contractual bullshit! If only Pine Tree wasn't around, he'd have made the trap appropriately lethal.

"Aw, rough day, huh?" Bill sets his pipe down, patting his husband on the shoulder. "Don't worry, honey, we'll-"

And Pine Tree yanks him forward. Gripping Bill's smoking jacket so tight that he hauls him nearly out of his chair. Bill blinks.

"If you call me 'honey' again," He mutters. "I'm going to murder you."

Bill can't stop his laugh this time, and as his cute little mortal rattles him back and forth -

Oh thank chaos, Pine Tree's the one broke first.

"Bill? This sucks." Pine Tree insists, teeth gritted. Shaking Bill harder now. He searches for words, he splutters - one hand waves at the air. "How does anyone live like this?"

Ha! Maybe now he gets how great he has it. No bureaucracy ! No trying to hide what you are from jerks who think magic is 'wrong'! No suburban life, no lawncare, and no rules!

Bill's mortal has too many hangups. You can explode any problem if you want to!

Pity he's not willing to do it with Linda.

"Hell if I know!" Bill exclaims, and surges up. He heaves out a breath, scratching at his neck. "Bullshit magical prejudice. Don't worry, kid!" He pats his husband on the back. "We'll get out of here in no time."

The monster that's preying on these mortals can't hide much longer. Once that's solved, Bill's contingency will kick in. And then -

"No, I found the vampire," Pine Tree says, half distracted. Bill does a double-take. What, he didn't mention that first? "I just, uh."

Bill wags a hand. Prompting.

And Pine Tree shrugs. Offering up an awkward smile. He rubs the back of his neck. "I…. kinda rigged her septic tank to blow once we got out of here."

Bill tugs him closer, beaming now. "Now that's a nice move!" He tucks his hands under Pine Tree's arms, but the human squirms away before he can pick him up. "It's what, a vicinity based setup?" A quick nod, and he grins wider. "Clever trick, kid." "I'd... ask if that's too much, but knowing you, it's not." Bill's cute little mortal punches him, adorably, in the stomach.

"Pfft, nah, that's nothing," Bill nudges him, and grins. Pine Tree's not the only guy who's heard some comments. "You should see what I set up for her house."

[popculturebuffet]

Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye Retrospective Issue 6: Interiors

Hello all you happy autbots and welcome back aboard the lost light. So there's a few bits of buisness to attend to before we hop back on board after our detour with the Wreckers for some needed context, something i'm glad we did as I forgot this issue is essentially a direct sequel to last stand. While Lost Light follows up on some plot points, this one directly follows up on Fort Max and what he went through… and also ties some other threads into it, one being why Whirl is in court mandated therapy in the first place, the other i'll save as if you have context, it's one hell of a cliffhanger. If your me and you didn't, you just scratch your head a bit.

The first is some great news: Brotoman.exe in addition to paying for the wreckers review is now doubling down on patreon, being my first 10 dollar patreon in some time and thus we'll be covering the issues 2 at a time instead of 1.. and sometimes more if he feels like it. While I have something of a schedule ready, it's flexible, so you can expect AT LEAST two issues a month and sometimes more from here on out. We also plan to thread in the two drift mini series, the second wreckers mini series, and the final wreckers one shot as we go.

Threading things in also leads to the second announcment which is a story thing: As a result of how we're doing this the next two months are going to be a bit different barring Brotoman adding any issues as the next three sets of issues are all something diffrent: We'll be covering the two spotlight issues next month. During Phase 1 of IDW Transformers, they frequently did issues like this, little issues to spotlight one character and help widen the story outside of ongoings, the central mini series and what have you. I liked that system a lot, and it's something IDW was really great at and did later again with TMNT, though with Microseries instead (i.e. a one shot with a neat name). There were only two made for the Lost Light side of things and after this phase they stopped doing them, likely both due to both series being so plot dense it was hard to squeeze them in and the addition of Windblade as a third ongoing likely making it finacially tough. We'd still get a few one shots later on with a christmas special and a revolution tie in, but both are more fun side stories.

Then while MTMTE returns in March, it's for our first Scavengers arc. If you haven't read the series, buckle up and if you had, then you know it means our heroes will take a breather so a new bunch of screw ups from the other side of the forever war can take stage. Finally we'll be covering Chaos Theory, which while intended as a prequel to the Chaos arc that ended the Carey era of transformers and ushered in the MTMTE and RID era, it also serves as one ot this series as it sets up cybertron's past, something that will become heavily important to the series and also stealth introduces Whirl. T

So before things change, we've got a hostage situation to deal with so join me as we spend a lot of time in a therapists office under the cut

We open in Rung's office where Fort Max is in therapy. He's not exactly opening up about G9 despite rung prodding, not wanting to relive his trauma… which as we see had Overlord planning to murder someone every second he didn't reveal the truth. We also find out why Overlord was intrested in Aquetius and thus had max plugged in, as in hindsight , and I kick myself for not thinking of this he had no reason to other than to be a dick, which was probable but didn't seem right. Why would a rogue decpticon care about airing the autobots dirty laundry? That wouldn't get megatron to notice him and fufill his death wish any faster. No he wanted something UNDER IT. There was something else there and having forgotten what i'm chomping at the bit to find out. Point is he's not opening up.

What is open , for now anyways is swerve as they play a rousing game of guess who transformed, which Chromedome is great at though Rewind is usually better. Pipes.. is alive?!

Yeah I was floored by this. While I remember a lot about more than meets the eye, some details just slipped so i'd just.. assumed pipes was good and dead last time but other than being shaky about transforming, for obvious reasons, he's fine… for now. As for where Rewind is he's outside as Tailgate finds out when he sits down, having asked Cyclonus to join them and got the response you'd respect

We also get a hint of how the two met .. at a relinquishment clinic but that's all we ge tfor now

Ultra Magnus walks in… and as you'd expect yells at swerve before dragging him off in chains.. well handcuffs, Rodimus hid the chains for obvious reasons. Fort Max then comes in grumpy.. and just up and shoots pipes. Yeah I forgot about this part.. I knew what he did NEXT… but it's one of the only joys of my spotty memory: sometimes you forget a moment or something, and thus you get to be suprised all over again.

So things then went from bad to worse as we find out in the situation room later that day: Max didn't stop with just pipes, shooting 4 robots we've never heard of on his way out and now holding Rung hostage. Thanks to Blaster, Soundwaves sadly undeerultized autobot counterpart, they have visual. Magnus also stops in and naturally is very I told you so.. and has earned it as he's absoltuely right that the recently traumatized POW should NOT have been carring around his big old gun. HE still probably coudl've done what he's done so far WITHOUT one, granted, but it wouldn't be nearly as easy. Our heroes find a ray of hope though someone's in there with him who Rodimus hopes is a beacon of stablity and calm to help defuse this tense situa…

We also find out why he's doing this besides you know, clearly needing the therapy he's refused to actually take seriously

While what he's doing is not right he's holding an innocent man and whirl hostage to vent his anger is horrible… said anger is understandable. G9 went silent for years and while sure, we know part of it was Megatron's invasion left the autobots barely functoning due to a combination of their numbers being worn down to next to nothing and bad writing, he dosent know that and even if he did.. they stilll sent ONE SQUAD two years later. It's hard not to feel for the guy even as he's holding an innocent bot whose using his thumb microphone to broadcast the sound hostage… which backfires as soon as Fort Max catches on.. and immdeitly uses up said sympathy twice in a row. He assholishly demands Rodimus turn the ship around and refuses to talk to him or listen to the fact their FAR too far from cybertron for that to actually work anyway, and then rips out Rung's thumb.

One final touch i'll note from all this.. the fact Rodimus.. looked sad as he figured out what Fort Max meant. The guy has enough flaws to fill several more issues of this very comic, but it shows he does care and does feel horrible about what max went through.. even if he's not about to aquiese to his demands.

In the medbay for a thankful break Ratchet notices a pattern.. he'll say it later but all the victims.. look like overlord. Not exactly, pipes for instance has a cool visor thing, but they all have purple eyes and light blue and dark blue chasis.

Back at the hostage situation

Whirl just says to kill them already and be done with it, especially since as he put earlier, telling Rodimus to do something he dosen't want to do never works. This does get Fort Max curious.. why is HE in therapy and in the dog house and while Whirl being.. whirl refuses to answer at first, it's telling that when Max threatens to shoot rung he instantly complies. Whirl was kicked out of the wreckers, we'll find out why shortly, and took it "shoot up the place" badly, so hence the therapy. He also reveals a key part of his backstory for the first time

We'll get a more fleshed out version of this soon enough, but for now comnand notice rungs pointing at his model of the lost light.. specifically to where he is.. and to it's window.

Outside the unlikely duo of Swerve and Rewind are re-riviting the ship as punishment: Swirl for his bar, which he figures he'll keep since while Magnus naturally hates it, Rodimus will brush it off, and Rewind for those discs we saw him get back in issue 1, one of our first chekovs guns to get fired. I really should've been counting every time this series foreshadows something. Maybe next time. Point is we find out they were essentially snuff films: heavy casualty battles that sort of thing. Though rewind isn't a monster.. .he just wants to find someone. He dosent' open up who, yet another setup for later, but we will indeed find out. For now our heroes are useful as being outside they can reach the window and pull a gun on the guy pulling a gun.

Back at the office, Whirl continues his story…

This.. is where Whirl really grew on me. At first he just seems like a quippy, trigger happy robot dead pool but actually forced to get the therapy needs…. that's not bad.. but like wade himself finding out WHY he's like that and seeing the heart underneath really makes him more loveable. He just wanted to make watches, lost that, became a thug, and while he clearly again needs help… it's easy to see why he turned out like this. He was only an autobot because Prime saw good in him.. while Whirl dosen't phrase it that way.. that's really how I feel it. Optimus may be many things.. but he's a good bot and while i'm sure not letting megatron gain more followers was a tiny consideration, the fact is knowing him.. he just saw a bot who was lost and needed a better purpose and took him in for that. It's also likely why, however misguided, he tried to end springer: he saw a friend in pain. Granted it wasn't the best call and he shoudln't of done that, but given what Springer had been through emotinally and physically on garrus 9, you can understand why he might try to do a one flew over the cuckoos nest.

Him declaring rung his friend is also sweet and reframes his actions this whole issue. Sure on paper he's putting everyone at risk because he dosen't care if he nor anyone lives or dies.. but in practice, it's kept the gun AWAY from rung. It's kept Max, aside from the whole thumb incident, focused not on harming Whirl's friend.. but on Whirl himself, who can not only take the hit (He earlier took two punches to the face from Max, but likely figures if he gets shot, then it'll force the bots outside to rush in. He's trying to sacrifcie himself to save Whirl. Why he considers him a friend, to close this bit out… is also easy: Most people on the ship see Whirl as an unstable screwup and while it's mildly true… Rung so far is the only person to treat the guy with kindness, humanity and as a person and not just the mistakes that person made or his mental illness. He's someone trying to help who genuinely belives hin him and that's likely barely happened in the poor bots life.

Things then deteroiate fast as Fort notices they aren't moving and is somehow suprised Rodimus hasn't reverserd course because you know.. why would he? Swerve tries to take the shot, but with Fort max under a pillar Rewind is forced to use those snuff films to his advantage.. using footage of Garrus 9. We get a truly heartbreaking sequence afterwords: Rung manages to calm a freaked out max down.. but not wanting to take a chance Rodimus orders the shot. As a result rewind accidently hits poor Rung, while Whirl stabs Fort Max for causing all of this.

So we end rather grimly: Rodimus is clearly wracked with guilt, the art doing a nice amount of the lifting to show this, and wants Max locked down tight by Red Alert… while Drift is concerned as Red Alert's been acting paranoid hearing voices.. but as we learned last issue those voices are real.. and as we see at the close of this one we not only find out what he was hearing.. but just what Prowl had the duobots smuggle on board

I told you overlord would be important did i?

On that cliffhanger we close this issue. I'm pausing the soundtrack reviews for now both due to the increased workload a coming, and because they just haven't been clicking. They've felt like an afterthrought and it's better to just roll out when the issue does. So i'll see you next month for some Decpticon Shenanigans, and till all are one thanks for reading.

[quinloki]

Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 12: Emotions

Dinner at the Donquixote estate was a practice in barely restrained chaos. Sugar had demanded you sit by her, which ended up with her in your lap about half-way through the meal. Dellinger had seated himself on the other side of you and spent as much time arguing with Sugar as he did talking to you.

Trebol and Diamante, two of Doflamingo's closest officers, snapped at each other's heels almost the whole meal, though most everyone else seemed to ignore them. Baby asked you a least 30 times if you needed her for anything, and you were legitimately convinced she was a hired maid for a good while, before Violet set you straight.

Monet sat near Sugar and did her best to help you wrangle the little rugrat enough that the two of you could trade off on eating. When you heard Machvise had personally made your dinner you praised him appropriately – you didn't want to unload a lot of hot air, but it was delicious food. You even admitted that while you weren't a fan of peas personally, the split pea soup was unexpectedly tasty.

Pica, Giolla, Senor Pink, Gladius and Buffalo were there a well, but your interactions were fairly limited. You feel like the younger ones had claimed you, and everyone else was just trying to make sure you weren't overwhelmed.

"Miss (Y/N)?" Sugar asks near the end of the meal.

"Miss Sugar, you can just call me (Y/N)." You say for the twelfth time, and after the third time you had started calling her 'Miss Sugar'.

"This bracelet is nice, where'd you get it?"

You realize she means the carnival gift, and you're suddenly glad to be a few seats removed from Doflamingo. "I got it as a gift."

You seem to have caught Dellinger's attention with this statement and he looks over. "From who?"

You gave a nervous laugh and smile as soon as you did Sugar pipes up. "Oh, was it the young master?" You hear someone choke on a drink, and you're pretty sure it's Monet. You're a bit sad your back's to her, she's been so composed the whole dinner it would've been a treat to see.

And people tell me I'm intuitive.

"Indeed." You answer with a smile. "It's a very special gift," you say with some drama. Sugar's attention is completely yours at this point, and even Dellinger looks like you're about to perform magic.

"What's it do?" Sugar inquires softly.

"It becomes more valuable with time." You answer, in your best mystical whisper.

You were fully rewarded with two awe-filled 'woooooah's' from Sugar and Dellinger. The conversation changes, the table was cleared, and after the meal you managed to find Monet without Sugar immediately in tow.

"I have a question for you, if you have a moment to spare." You ask and she gives you a smile.

"Anything for our new resident magician."

You grin. "Doflamingo told me you had dug into my history." Your expression didn't change, you weren't trying to make her feel bad. "I've... never looked, and while I know what happened, I don't know what the official story was."

There was a pause as she processes what you were asking and then her face became serious. "When you were six?"

You nod.

"I couldn't find the truth, and I knew I had only found propaganda when all the reports said you and your mother were killed during the Moim, and that your father had killed your killer. None of the records had anything else in them. Apparently, there's a memorial on Mary Geoise, honoring you and your mother's sacrifice." Monet's tone was usually flat, but there was a snarl in her last few words, as though the whole thing turned her stomach even as removed from it as she was.

You couldn't help the wave of emotion that went over you. Aggravation, anger, frustration, an odd pang of sadness and then anger again. He'd been able to keep climbing the ranks after the incident, you knew that much, but you didn't realize it was because they'd created a false tragic hero out of him. You had just assumed no one had known or cared – or that maybe the guy he murdered your mother to get was infamous enough for it to not matter.

"This... was a bad time to ask that, can you... I mean, is there somewhere I can go to cool off?" You question. Your fists are white-knuckled, and you're struggling to keep a neutral face.

"Of course." Monet takes you by the wrist and leads you through the estate until you come out the backside of it. The garden sprawls out before you, illuminated by the full moon, with a clear backdrop of stars. She points to a large tree that wasn't too far away.

"The old Wisteria tree always helped comfort me when I needed it. I'll keep most of the family at bay and give you a few minutes."

"Thanks."

You walk toward the large tree, feeling your anger melt away a little just from the cool air and the promise of quiet near the tree. Everything made more sense, and you hated that it made more sense. You stood under the tree, looking through the branches and blossoms, letting the moonlight fall over your face, you cry.

"May he live in agony." You whisper your wish up to the moon above, and your anger rushes back in.

"May he die in agony." You growl, your nails biting into the meat of your palms. Your shoulders shook, you wanted to unleash violence, you wanted to fight, you wanted to crush the old man's bones under your anger.

"Fuck." You croak the words, trying to keep from screaming. "Fuck."

"Rage is better released than held." Doflamingo's voice was quiet, as though he wasn't sure if he should even speak.

"I... don't..." You look over at him and your breath hitches. "I don't know what to do with this! I want to hurt him! I want to feel pain in my fists from the damage I would do his bones! I want his soul to shatter beneath my fury! I want his blood to feed the worms!"

Tears cut lines down your face as Doflamingo stands in front of you silently. If your words were affecting him, he made no outward show of it. "I want every breath he takes to cut his lungs with glass! I want the world to know what a terrible fraud he is! I want his heart's final, worthless, twitch to be between my fingers! How is this emotion simple rage?! How is this emotion even human!?"

Your tears stop. "How can... how can you hear me say all that and not flinch? Not back away? Not – not banish me from your home? How can I be so angry twenty-gods-be-damned-years-later?"

You sit on the ground hard, and it's the first time he so much as twitches, reaching out as if to catch you. Instead, he steps closer and kneels before you. His glasses are off and tucked in his shirt pocket. He offers you a handkerchief and gives you a moment to clean up your face and catch your breath.

Your mind comes back to you, and you look down at the ground. "Did it feel like this for you?" You ask quietly.

"Mmm," He reaches out and tilts your face up with a gentle touch, until you're looking at him. "It was different, but similar. My anger didn't simmer for 20 years until it boiled over. I was able to release it, and resolve it, in a smaller amount of time." His thumb caresses your cheek, wiping away an errant tear. You turn your head and nuzzle your cheek into his hand.

"I realize this is a bad time to say so, but you could just crush my whole head in your hand." You lean back, holding his hand with both of yours. "I wasn't able to really appreciate how bloody big your hands are until now."

The velvet rumble of his soft chuckle makes you feel warm. "Feeling a bit better?" He asks, standing up and offering you a hand up.

Smiling, you accept his assistance. "I am, thank you." Stretching a bit, you chuckle. "Painful truths over sweet lies, what a legitimate sentiment."

"If you're up for it, there's been an offer of dessert." He says with a devious grin, and continues before you can say anything. "The kind you can enjoy in the company of the family."

You blush a bit despite it all and laugh. "Sure, yes. They say sweet things are good for the soul anyway, so dessert-mffmph!"

Warm lips press against yours, and a strong hand presses into your back to steady you against the surprise. When he leans back you grab his collar and pull him back in, causing the softest sound of surprise to escape him. You press your tongue against his lips, and he lets you in. You didn't control the kiss for long, but you didn't care. Being devoured by this man wasn't the worst that could happen to you.

"My apologies," you breathe, as the kiss breaks, your eyes shifting from his lips to his eyes. "I'm sure you had something about you being good for my soul on the tip," you lean closer again, your eyes back down at his lips. "Of your," you ghost your lips past his, biting your lower lip lightly, before backing away entirely.

"So, dessert?" you prompt, with a great big smile on your face.

He chuckles, putting his glasses back and gesturing back to the estate with a small flourish, "My dear."

You got a step ahead of him and hear his voice rumble in his chest. "That won't be forgotten," he promises, and you weren't sure you were as scared of that as you should've been.

Dessert was a delicious strawberry shortcake, and a more subdued conversation with Monet, who apologized for delivering her new so bluntly. You also get to speak more directly to Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Giolla.

Leaving for the evening was a little bittersweet, but when Doflamingo didn't tempt you to stay, you realized just how busy his own job was keeping him. He did walk you to the limo, pinning you against the door and finishing the kiss from earlier before allowing you to slip away for the evening. You were in the backseat without a chance to request different, and sure enough your mind wandered to what had been done before, and what could be done in the future.

Tuesday came and went with little incident. You sporadically texted with Doflamingo, worked your jobs, and took an evening to yourself. You had every intention to vegetate on the couch and watch cheesy action movies. When you got home Tuesday evening, you saw Zoro in the driveway, looking at his phone and leaning against his delivery van.

"Hey, Marimo," you greet, jogging the last few steps to reach him. "What's up?"

The grin that spread across his face made you tilt your head in confusion.

"Special delivery, Mouse." He teases you back and hands over one of Robin's flower arrangements. You realize from his smile that he knows what the hyacinths meant as well as you did. You hold the flowers nearby and appreciate the scent.

Your face goes red and all you can murmur is a small, "Thanks."

"Least I could do." He replies. "It was my last delivery of the day, so I decided to stick around until you got home. Things run long at Eustass' shop?"

"Not overly. I ended up kibitzing with the guys for a bit, but admitting that my stray had turned into a more permanent sort of trouble was what kept me."

Zoro snorts, "Yeah, I'm sure a couple of those guys will be drowning their sorrows tonight."

You laugh, "If they felt that way, they should've said something sooner."

"As long as you're happy," he shrugs.

"Nervous?" you question, shifting the topic of whose relationship was being discussed.

Zoro looks away and rubs the back of his head. "Maybe a little."

You pat his shoulder. "She's only had a thing for you, for like, the last year at least. You'll be fine whatever you have planned."

Zoro groans. "Did I really not notice for so long?"

"I blame time spent hanging around Luffy and Ace." You say, "They're both dense as tungsten."

Zoro laughs and leaves you to your thoughts and flowers. Hyacinths, your loveliness charms me. There's a definite skip in your step as you go into your home.

(Y/N): I see you have responded in kind.

You send the text and set the flowers on your coffee table and do a silly happy dance for a moment before your phone vibrates.

Trouble: I was told a simple reply would suffice.

(Y/N): I only have so much space for replies.

Trouble: I was reminded repeatedly by your florist friend.

(Y/N): I would like to reply in a more direct way, but you must promise me something.

Trouble: I shall do my best, my dear.

(Y/N): Do not answer your phone for the next twenty minutes.

You were skipping up the steps to your room waiting for a reply. It took so long you were a bit concerned he wasn't going to agree.

Trouble: Very well, I promise.

Utilizing the toys you had available, you brought yourself close to orgasm before dialing his number. You tried to calm your breathing in case he picks it up, so you could scold him without giving your intent away too obviously. Once you heard the customized voicemail greeting, you had a feeling he at least had an inkling as to what you meant to do.

"Leave your messages as you please, kitten."

Caught or not, it didn't matter. You let the pleasure in your voice sing out for him. You were so close you didn't think you were going to need multiple messages, just the knowing sound in his voice was enough to get your heart racing. Your imagination brought his presence into your room, looming over you and telling you to scream for him. Purring softly in your ear with need in his own voice for you to cum for him.

The idea of him watching you while you did something like this drove you over the edge in a rush. You mewl his name and cry your orgasm into the phone as best you could with your hands preoccupied. Panting and enjoying the rush you pick up the phone properly and left the only fully formed words of the whole message.

"Just some of my charming loveliness, Doffy."

Hanging up the phone you laid out on the bed and basked for a moment before dragging yourself into the shower. As you were coming back out of the shower, you noticed a missed called and a new voicemail message. Your face flushes as you press play, unsure of what to expect.

"There is a fine line between divinity and torture, Miss (Y/N). One you seem to be alarmingly skilled at walking. I do hope you're available tomorrow, I would hate to have to kidnap you, my dear."

You sent a text, not wanting to risk your voice betraying you. You also wanted the chance to pick your words, and not vocalize the fact that you wouldn't have any issues being kidnapped by him.

(Y/N): I promised Pop's some of my time tomorrow.

(Y/N): Is after dinner acceptable?

The lack of a reply stretches out more minutes than it ever had before, so you decided to continue.

(Y/N): It seems I've bordered closer to cruel than I meant. I could, graciously, get someone to cover my café shift Thursday, so that I could stay the night.

The last few words were hard to type, not because you were against the idea, but you were a little worried you misread his delay. You wanted to jump in with both feet, you didn't want to leap into concrete on accident.

The response was almost immediate.

Trouble: Then I shall graciously accept.

You bit the bottom of your lip, and preemptively apologized to the Boys that you wouldn't be as focused on visiting as you usually were.

[onceinamando]

Stowaway Chapter 1:

Word count: 2025

Warnings: canon related violence, death.

A/N: HIII GUYS. So, to be completely honest, I've just binged Rough Day and it was the most amazing fanfic ever. Something about Din just gets my stomach in a twist, and so I was super inspired to get all my daydreaming and lusting down on paper. It's probably not going to be as smutty, but it will be full of feels, laughs, and fluff, cos I'm fluffy :> Honestly just want to explore what getting to know Din would be like, in my own way. Lots of adventure to follow, but not to worry my lusty friends! There will, be smut XD. Just not yet.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Cold. The first thing you notice when you open your eyes is just how cold it's gotten. The second thing you notice is that you feel lightheaded and your vision is blurry.

"Concussion... Great." You say out loud to the haze in front of your eyes.

Slowly you start to get your bearings as you try to blink away the greyness. Except you soon realise it's not your eyes, this dense smoke is coming from blown pipes and burning chemicals. You grab the top of the table and pull yourself up, groaning as your head pounds from the movement.

An attack. You remember that your prisoner transport was attacked. Likely another faction looking to save one of their own. You feel yourself get angry at them, the lives they stole today, without remorse.

You look around your lab and sigh deeply. Everything has been destroyed by blaster fire. All your equipment, all your research. You take a quick look around to see if there are any medical supplies left to patch yourself up with. You find an intact syringe of bacta and thank your little stars.

After patching yourself up, you start to move around the abandoned ship. You step over broken bodies, the lights flashing erratically and the pipes hissing out oxygen. You shiver, the life support must be down. You wonder if there is anyone left alive. You got knocked out from some sort of explosive and missed all of the action. But you feel glad you did. You don't think you'd still be walking around if you hadn't.

You reach the control room and your heart plummets. It's a mess. And not the kind you know how to clean up. Everything is flashing red, and the monitors tell you the engines and life support are down. You have a huge hull breach you're assuming the attackers used to get out, and your fuel has leaked into space. This ship... Is stranded. That means you're stranded.

You're about to sink to the floor in despair when you hear clomp clomp clomp behind you, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You quickly duck into the nearest hiding space (a tiny service hatch) and hold your breath, terrified that its one of the murderers looking for witnesses.

You peek through the tiny gap you left, scared of being caught, but needing to know who it is anyways. If you can get a description, maybe you can take it to the New Republic and they can catch these assholes. If.. you can get there.

The footsteps grow louder, and you stay very very still. You see a flash of bright silver, and the source stops in front of the controls. You hear a few beeps and the sounds of buttons being pressed, and one of the monitors comes to life with camera footage. You watch, having a better angle to see the monitor than the person, and you're horrified. They massacred everyone.

You hear a sigh, and the sound of a deep modulated voice fills the room

"Well kid, don't think there's anyone left alive. Let's get some supplies and get going."

Kid? You adjust as much as you can without making a noise, but all you can see is a round device floating alongside a large suit of armour. Is that beskar? You try to look upwards to see the face of the stranger, but all you see is a helmet. A very familiar looking helmet.

A Mandalorian? Traveling with a kid. You'd heard rumours out here in the Outer Rim, officers coming in and talking about the chaos a Mandalorian leaves in his wake. He was always traveling with a kid. Could this be him?

You can't be sure, but what you do know is that he isn't an intruder. He's not here to kill you. And, he's your ticket off this dead ship. You watch him turn around and leave the room, and you only crawl out of the hatch when you can no longer hear his footsteps. He has to have a ship.

You run over to the console and see if it can show you anything about a ship being docked. The display is cracked and flickery, but you just manage to make out where his ship is. Now you have a direction.

As quietly and quickly as you can, you make your way to where his ship has docked with this one. You keep an eye and ear out for any sounds of him and his companion as you jump over bodies and sidestep wiring, trying to make it there before they do. Please please please get there before they do.

You can't get stuck here.

You make it to where he docked his ship, and look up. The hatch is still open. You hope this means they haven't gotten back yet, and not that they've just climbed in. Giving your surroundings a quick glance, you jump onto the ladder and scramble up into his ship.

Peeking your head inside, you take it all in. It's not spacious, but it isn't small either. It's narrow, but long. To your right, you assume is the back of the ship, and the ramp for loading and offloading large objects. It's spacious enough to fit 3 Blurrgs comfortably, but it's mostly empty, apart from a few containers. In front of you, you see a mobile Carbonite freezing system, and your heart skips a few beats. You don't want to end up in there...

To your left is what you assume goes towards the front of the ship. You see a... urinal fresher type device (so old and outdated you hope it's not what you think it is), a storage compartment and a ladder leading upwards. No signs of the Mandalorian though. You continue to climb up until you're completely inside the ship.

Looking around, you don't see anywhere you can easily hide, so the stairs are your next best option. You head over and climb them, coming up into a small room with doors on either side. You look left again, and opening the door you see the cockpit. No. Definitely not there. You try right this time, and upon opening the door you have to bite back a gasp.

Three blocks of Carbonite stand in front of you, the faces of its captives frozen in time. You shudder, wondering what these poor souls did to deserve this. It also reminds you of another piece of information on this Mandalorian.... He's a bounty hunter. Dangerous and unbeatable. You shudder, wondering why it had to be his ship.

You ease your way past the blocks and open the next door. You're suddenly blasted with heat and squint your eyes, surprised. A reactor. You stand there for a moment, contemplating your knowledge of the ship and what you think would be the best place to hide. You look around the room, and your eyes light up when you see another panel. You open it up and there is a tiny little compartment, just big enough for you to squeeze into.

You climb in and settle in next to a camtono and a decapitated, bug-eyed droid.

"Hey, how's it going. Mind if I share with you for a little while?" You ask the droid, knowing you won't get an answer, but amusing yourself anyways.

You've just closed the door to the compartment when you hear footsteps climbing up the ladder outside, and your breathing starts to pick up along with your heart rate, hoping against hope he hasn't noticed or heard anything. You hold your breath as you hear the doors to the cockpit open, and don't release it until you feel the ship disengage from your transport and pull off into space.

You smile to yourself. Maybe you'll make it to civilization without any hiccups. Maybe you won't have to deal with the scary Mandalorian and have to explain to him exactly why you're on his ship. You rest your head against the cool metal wall, and close your eyes. Your head feels light and heavy, exhaustion is creeping in, taking the place of adrenaline. But you know sleep is last thing you should do when you have a concussion. You might not wake up.

So you just sit there, listening to the humming of the engines and the nothingness of hyperspace, wondering when the ship will reach its destination, and how long you'll be able to hide away like this.

You don't even make it half a day.

You start awake when you hear the doors being opened to the backlog room, and curse yourself for falling asleep. You listen, your heart beating erratically, as the footsteps outside draw near. You hear a grunt and a heavy click, and assume that another block of Carbonite has been added to the collection. You sit very still, waiting to hear footsteps receding.

You're still listening intently when the door in front of you is suddenly ripped open. You blink into the sudden brightness and don't have a chance to react before the Mandalorian grabs your arm and rips you out of the compartment, pushing you up against the wall with his arm under your throat, and blaster pointed straight at you.

"How did you get in here?" He asks, voice deadly.

"How did you find me?" You ask him, still dazed from the speed and catching up with the events.

"Heat. Now answer me." He bites back.

You look up at him, at the beskar helmet glinting into the light, reflecting everything around it, including your own disheveled, terrified expression. You assume that means the helmet has heat sensor technology. Dank farrik. You can't see anything behind the helmet, and you only have his voice to go off of. It's warning you, that you are in so much danger. The alarm bells in your head are going crazy, and a part of you regrets ever climbing on this ship. You may have just put yourself in more danger.

"I-I saw you in the control room and uh, went to find your ship. You weren't there and the uh the hatch was open and I climbed in and and hid away." You whisper, hoping it's enough.

"Why?" He grunts. You look at him, and notice his grip hasn't faltered once, he hasn't moved a millimetre. You try to gulp, but the pressure on your throat makes it difficult.

"The transport was.. was dead in the water. I needed a way off. I would have died there." You mutter, looking down when you feel your eyes burn.

He just stands there looking at you, keeping you in the same position. You squirm uncomfortably, wondering if he's going to kill you, or throw you in carbonite.

"Please, please just let me stay until we reach the next planet. I promise I mean no harm. I'm just trying to survive, and to get back home. Just don't put me in carbonite, please. Please, I can be useful. I'm a doctor." You babble, trying to save your own hide. He loosens his grip when you mention that you're a doctor, and he steps away slightly, but still makes sure you stay pinned.

"Come." He says brusquely, and without another word he grabs your upper arm and leads you out the door and across into the cockpit. He forces you into a chair, and then binds your wrists in front of you. You frown, but you suppose it's better than Carbonite. You look up to his captain's chair, and see two big black eyes staring at you, with big green floppy ears on either side of an old, but adorable face. This must be the kid.

"Stay put." He commands you, without giving you another glance and moving towards his seat. You lean to the side to try and get a glimpse of the planet he's put into the co-ordinates. Nevarro. You groan internally. You're at least three days away from Nevarro. Slumping into your chair you try to be grateful that you're still alive, while also thinking to yourself that it's going to be a loooong three days.

[the-furies]

first three blorbos tpop into your mind :~} -AS

TEE HEE OK <3

T MINUS 3 DAYS TIL PIRATW SHOW RETURNS!!!!!!! OKOKOKOK SO,

I am so mental illness about this man for Reals. I loev his fashion. I lov his vibes. Both before and After he meets Stede. I HOWEVER DO NOT LOVE HOW HE TREATS IZZY AND STEDE'S CREW AND I //sounds of brutal pipe murder// I hope karma gets his ass!!!!!!!! I hope he gets Got in some way that doesn't involve him dying.

Because as much as I Lov Him he is also SSSSOOOOOOOOOOO. SOOOO!!!! MY FUCKING GOD HE IS UNWELL!!!!!!!! V angry man. V V scary also. Absolutely Explosive with anger ain't he. Like sorry your boyfriend of a week broke up with you BRO but don't KILL EVERYONE ABOUT IT??? MY FUCKING GOD????!

But like he looks hot as fuck after he went sicko mode bc of the breakup so he has that going 4 him. u can get it peepaw. sorry who said thatjfjfkskalaodjvmdkdkslsjfnsa

tbis man needs 2 get dicked down. there I said itJFJDKDKFKD

AS MUCH AS we ship him w Ed He also deserves soooo much better. BUDDY your weird friends w benefits boss guy fucking MUTILATED YOU because you got angry at him!!!!!!!! YOU! CAN!! DO!!! BETTER!!!! oh my god! <3.

but also HE'S a little bitch in general too like he also needs to get Got a little bit in s2 and judging by those trailers he fuckin did like what the fuck happened actually dude are you okAY??????? DID ED HAPPEN????! IG WE'LL FIND OUT SOON BUR JESUS CHRIST!

he needs better coping mechanisms. everyone in the show does but Literallyyyy Izzy my guy. GO hang out with stede it might Maybe fix you [it won't. but it's better than hanging out w Ed ok]

I FROGTOT ABOTU STARDEW WHOOPS!!!! WHOOPS OK

Shane Is my husband I married his ass. We had an Autumn wedding. I remember the first day we met I think. I had just fished up a can of soda from the river and then immediately hunted him down and gave it to him bc He's associated w joja cola so mych and he asked why i was giving him my garbage. <3. UQIAKSKDJFZ

he rlly rlly needs therapy and also like im glad canonically he can get therapy!!!!!!! but jesus christ !!!! it's fine thiugh He's my pet husband now I Will Fix Him. I will Fix Him .

i loev and care abt him EO MUCH however He did Force me into adoption a kid [I clicked through the "hey want to adopt?" prompt too fast without even realizing And now I have a creature in my house. I forced it to wear a skull mask though I will be aborting it posthaste As soon as I'm done fucking the wizard it's FINE.] 8/10 man I need 2 get back into stardew so i can neuter him [aka. Bird the kid and then remove the cribs]

↑ the creature wearing the skull. btw

[sningo-prompts]

Okay, okay hold on a sec. Think about it. Ingo getting captured by poachers would mean that he will be forced to eat out of a bowl. If he's lucky. Maybe they'll pour his food straight on the floor. And he is so hungry and getting weaker, so he needs to eat. Also haa to lick his water up every day. Ingo getting captured would break this man and I'm here for every second of it. Emmet is going to straight up murder them all.

Ok this took a moment. Had to get myself in the right head space for something like this. I hope i dont disappoint too much.

WARNING

I uhhh got carried a little away with the set up. And CURSING LOTS OF CURSING THREATS OF VIOLENCE ok making sure yall see that am i sorry for what i did Not really. It could have been worse tbh. I had a bit planned for Emmet in here but im lazy. Its 23:55 ok

They dont capture Ingo in a ball because they assume Emmet is his trainer. So they dont even try. Instead the ruffly toss him into a very small cage. Oh Now see this is why Ingo doesnt like cages. He keeps getting thrown into them. Which hurts. His scruff is so very sore. Arceus he hates being picked up by his scruff. His cage is probably around crate size. He can stand up in it and move around but its just barely too big for his to touch each side with his claws if he stood in the middle. Its cold and metal.

So Ingo tossed into a cage. He hardly has time to think before the talking starts. “Man that Emmet fucker put up one hell of a fight for this thing” “At least that dumb bitch gave us an opening.” laughter “hey give the brat some credit! Without her we wouldnt have gotten anywhere near the thing!” Great Ingo has been called a thing twice now. One of them is walking up to his cage. Which is on the floor so all Ingo can see are shins. They man bends down, a taking his cigar out of his mouth he blows the smoke into Ingos face. Of course he has a coughing fit. “Well now you be good for us and make us lots of money”. Ingo just glares at the man. From across the room one of the others pipes up “hey now dont damage this one! You know that it will sell better if its un damaged!” Signing the man puts his cigar back in his mouth and stands up “yeah yeah i know. Even if the little bastard is giving me the stink eye i wont break this one” they laugh again. Ingo though hes full panic. “Damage? Break?” Oh oh whats gonna happen to him.

Its a few hours later after the men have finished playing some sort of gambling game. The same man comes back. He has two bowls. He bends down to look Ingo in the eyes “now listen here you little shit. Im going to open the top of this here cage and you are gonna sit right there and not fucking move a single mussel. And if you even look like you plan to escape or attack me ill break for fucking legs you got it.” Ingo.exe has stopped responding. “Good” now hes opening the top Ingo doesnt dare move. The man sets in a water dish and a food bowl. Ingo feels sick. The cheapest pokemon food on the market is poured into the food dish. At least the water comes strait from a bottle. The man is reaching for Ingo oh its happening oh hes gonna get hurt oh no no. Ingo flenches away and closes his eyes bracing for the worst. The man chuckles and pets his head. “Glad to see we understand each other” once the hand is gone from Ingos face he dares to open his eyes. Just as the man closes the cage top. He doesnt dare move till the man fully leaves the room. Ok he can panic now. Hes clutching his chest. Oh hes crying. He wants to go home. Hes cold and hungry and scared. Emmet where are you please Emmet help me. He stays like that for who knows how long. Well i know its like four hours. Aka four am.

Hes done crying. Eyes long since dried up. But hes still just sitting there in the corner of his cage curled up knees to chest. Its his stomach that actually snaps him back. Hes hungry, having not eaten since breakfast the day before all this happened. He eyes the food. Hes not that hungry. He goes to sleep.

Hes awaken later by the door to the room opening. Its the man again. The only light in the room is from above. He has no idea what time it is. Its one pm. The man is doing something by the table. He hears something that sounds like gravel in a plastic cup. Oh no the man hes coming over to him. Ingo gets as far away from the “front” of the cage. Its just got a solid top and bottom rest is bared. She man kneels down again. Hes looking what feels like right into Ingos soul. How terrifying. The mans eyes move to the food and water. Ingos own gaze follows. “Tsk” Ingo snaps back to the man. Oh he doesnt look pleased. He looks angry. “Now see here you little shit. I wont have you starving to death before we sell you. You WILL eat.” Ingo just starts shaking again. This is it the mans gonna hurt him. The man opens the top Ingo once again braces for the worst. Only to open his eyes once he hears plastic sliding across metal. The man has moved the bowl to infront of Ingo. “Now eat.” … Ingo slowly with one trembling arm reaches out towards the bowl. He picks up a piece and slowly puts it in his mouth. Its bland and he hates the texture.

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Escape

Jimmy Conway x Paulie's Daughter! Reader

Hiiiii, this fic is a little surprise I've been working on and I've got a few others in the works. I hope you guys love it! ❤️

TW: smut, mentions of crime and crime families, murder, marriage, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 5.2k

As you stand in front of the mirror, your head spins from the morning you've already had. Women everywhere, whizzing around you doing your hair and makeup, getting you into your wedding dress. All that to make you a bride.

And you do look like a bride, you think as you stare into the mirror.

Behind you, you hear a familiar voice, "Ahem, ladies, could I get a moment alone with our bride?" Jimmy. He's being extra charming today, as many of the women left the room giggling because he spoke to them.

"Wow... (Y/N), you look gorgeous..." he creeps up behind you and delicately places his hands on your sides, as if he might break you. He looks at you in the mirror, before gently placing a kiss on your shoulder. "You're gonna stop traffic when you walk down the aisle. I can't wait to see it," he moves your veil and hair to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You don't say anything, just stare into the mirror. After a small pause, Jimmy turns you around, "Hey, you alright?"

Finally, you get a good look at him in his tux: all black with an off white shirt and a deep green vest peaking out from the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "Yeah, I'm okay, just nervous," you put your hand on his chest, looking him over again, "I'm glad you're here. You always calm me down, and you look great by the way."

You knew it was an unconventional choice, but you wouldn't have picked anyone else to be your Maid of Honor. And Jimmy was happy to do it for you, even with Tommy and Henry making fun of him for it, at least until they got asked to be bridesmaids.

These were guys that in another life, you never would've been friends with, probably wouldn't have even known. And truthfully, your dad didn't want you being friends with them, because he knows what they are: criminals, nothing but criminals. But they're the only family you have, and Paulie had to admit that it was so cute seeing you get into trouble with Henry and Tommy and then go to "Uncle" Jimmy to get you out of it.

Jimmy wouldn't have done that kind of thing for the guys; they needed to get pinched and learn what it was like, but he would do anything to keep your pretty face out of jail. Since you've grown older, old enough for your father to let you get married, you and Jimmy have grown to be best friends. He's not so much the Uncle he used to be to you.

"(Y/N)?" Jimmy starts, "we got something to tell you, honey."

Just from the man's tone of voice, you can tell something is terribly wrong; you just know him too well. At that point, Jimmy opens the door, and Tommy, Henry, and your dad Paulie shuffle in.

"What's going on?" you say sheepishly, taking a step back from the men before you.

"You may wanna sit down," Jimmy motions to the little couch in the room.

Your dad reaches for one of your hands and you pull it away, "What is it, papa?"

"Sweetie, let's sit down, so we can talk," he places a hand on your back, and you both sit on the couch together. Jimmy, Tommy, and Henry all stand around looking like tough guys: arms crossed, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be listening outside the door, their faces looking stone cold with a bit of worry in their eyes.

"(Y/N), that guy out there," Paulie starts, referring to the groom waiting to marry you, "he ain't the guy you think he is."

"What?" you ask quietly.

"Well, uh, the guys here-" he looks up at the three men standing around you, "Jimmy, uh..." He just couldn't say it to you.

"We've been keeping an eye on this guy, scoping him out," Jimmy finishes for Paulie.

"What? You were spying on my fiancé?" you ask, feeling hurt.

"You didn't think we was just gonna let you marry anyone, did ya?" Tommy pipes up.

"And I'm glad we did," Jimmy cuts back in, "that guy out there, (Y/N), he's a liaison for another crime family! They were using you for information, and now he's able to identify all of us."

"What? No... He's- he's... a union rep," you cast your eyes down as it dawns on you; it was all a lie and a great cover up so he could talk about his friends and you wouldn't even realize. God, did you feel stupid. If anyone was gonna catch him in that lie, it should've been you. "I'm so sorry..." you whisper as tears drop down onto your wedding dress.

Paulie immediately pulls you into a hug, "Hey, hey, it's okay, baby girl. It's okay. The guys here have a plan." He tries to comfort you as you cry into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, you know I'd never try to put any of you in danger. I'm sorry I was so stupid!!" You feel horrible and angry with yourself.

"Shhh... You gotta keep your voice down, honey," you feel Jimmy's hand rubbing circles into your back as he kneals next to you. "You're not stupid. It took us a long time to crack this guy. He covered his tracks well."

You turn to Jimmy, tears mixed with mascara running down your face. "Hey..." he says, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the tears from your face, "Don't cry, angel. You shouldn't cry on your wedding day."

"But-" you get close to him, "it's not my wedding day anymore."

"Still," he pulls you up off the couch and into a hug, "you look too pretty to cry, and besides, we gotta get going."

You give him a confused look, trying to get it together, "Get going? Where are we going?"

"Well, uh, you and I are going on your honeymoon; Tommy and Henry know the rest of the plan."

"Honeymoon? We're not gonna cancel it?" you question.

"Listen, sugar," your dad grabs your attention, "this is the one day we can get your fiancé alone. He didn't dare bring any of his associates; we would recognize them, especially after all the recon we've done. So Jimmy's gonna sneak you out of here, and you're gonna go away for a while, and we're gonna get rid of this crook and tie up all the loose ends."

Just a few moments later, Tommy and Henry go back into the church to make it seem like everything is normal. No one is gonna think anything of Jimmy and your dad being with you, because that's the order the ceremony will go in. Your dad waits out in the hallway, as if he's waiting for you to put the last few finishing touches on your dress, and as everyone clears the hall to go to the church, he signals to Jimmy that it's time.

You and Jimmy quietly sneak out of your dressing room to head to the car. Before you run off, you turn back to your dad, giving him a big hug, "Please be careful, papa. I love you so much, and I'll miss you."

"I love you, too, (Y/N)," he gives you a kiss on the forehead, before you turn to head out the back hallway of the reception hall.

On the way out, Jimmy grabs a huge plate of hors d'oeuvres and holds the door open for you. You make your way out to this random convertible (probably stolen), seeing your suitcase in the backseat.

"Mines in the trunk," he lets you know, before setting the plate of food in the back and helping you in the car. Seconds later, you're peeling out of the church parking lot.

• • •

You and Jimmy can't help but laugh as you get further and further away from your wedding ceremony. You can't explain why you're laughing so hysterically, but it feels like old times getting into trouble with Jimmy. Plus, it's a welcome distraction.

"Jimmy," you interject the laughter.

"Yeah?" he asks, coming down from his laughing fit. You've already reached the highway heading from upstate New York into the city to get to the airport.

"Jimmy, I gotta get out of this dress," there's a serious tone in your voice that tells Jimmy this is more urgent than you let on.

He quickly whips out his switch blade, "Okay, lean forward." And then you feel the cool metal of the blade grace your back as he cuts the ribbons corseting your dress.

The dress loosens around you, and you look over at the man, "Thank you," is all you say before sliding the dress down over your hips, then throwing it up in the air, letting the wind take it down the highway. Jimmy has an impressed look on his face as he glances at you with a half smile on his face.

He reaches over, placing a hand on your bare thigh, pulling your wedding garter down your leg before holding it above his head and spinning it around like a lasso. "WOOOOOO!!!!" he yells at the top of his lungs as he flings the little piece of lace. Anything to make you laugh, and it does get a rise out of you.

There's a pause for a moment as Jimmy takes in the view of you in your white lingerie; his eyes don't linger for long though, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

Though, you can't help but feel sexy for moment before climbing into the backseat to change.

"Hey, bring that food up to the front seat when you're done," he says, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You smack his shoulder, realizing he can see you changing. He chuckles and flips the rearview up. You spend the rest of the trip leaning on Jimmy and snacking on the hors d'oeuvres on the tray, until you arrive at the airport.

Because you skipped the wedding ceremony and reception, you arrive way earlier than you're supposed to, but it's no issue, Jimmy already worked it out by moving your flight up. It also works out better, because there will be goons at the airport looking for you, but by the time they get there, you and Jimmy will already be gone.

• • •

After a few hours when you arrive in the Bahamas, Jimmy gently runs his fingers through your hair to wake you up from your nap. You were conked out on his shoulder, exhausted from this morning. "C'mon, sleepyhead, let's go have a honeymoon," he helps get you up and grab your bags.

"Mmmm," you yawn following him, "you say that like it's your honeymoon or something."

"Well, it is now," he chuckles, grabbing your hand to lead you off the plane. After a warm welcome from some locals at the check in desk, you head over to your private villa, right on the beach. Even though it's already dark, the island is beautiful. The warm breeze makes the palm trees wave; the sand is soft under your feet; and the sound of waves crashing is seriously so relaxing.

Inside your villa, it looks so cozy and clean, and you're so ready to get some dinner and go to bed. That's just what you do. Jimmy calls the office to order dinner to your little beach house, and you pop into the bathroom to take a shower and change.

By the time you're done, dinner is too. Jimmy greets you with a little side hug and pulls your chair out for you to sit down at the table. "Comfy? In your little robe and all?" he asks, eyeing you up and down quickly.

"Mm-hmmm," you moan, stuffing your face with delicious food. Jimmy chuckles at you before doing the same.

After getting your bellies full on tasty seafood, you decide that it would be a good idea to go to sleep, that way you can make the most of your time on this lovely island.

As you and Jimmy make your way to the bedroom, you're met with a reminder of why you're there in the first place: rose petals and candles littering the room.

Jimmy sees the way you pause, "Do you want me to get rid of this stuff?"

"I- uh, no... It's okay," you look back and forth between him and your bed.

"Here," he says, leading you to the couch, "Stay here."

He goes into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. For a few moments you hear huffing and thudding as he blows out candles and throws them in the trash, and you hear his arms hitting the bed as he wipes the rose petals away. Jimmy exits the room with a trash bag in tow, tossing it out on the front patio before returning to the living room, breathing a little heavy, and holding his arm out, motioning you to the bedroom.

You stand up and put your arms around him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, Jimmy."

He places his arm around your waist and presses a cheek to your head, "You're welcome, sweetie. Now go to bed."

"You're not coming?" you ask.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You have a good night, and sweet dreams," he gives your arm a squeeze before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As you settle into bed and try to sleep, it sinks in. Your relationship that you'd been so happy in is over... And here you are in another country for an undetermined amount of time while your ex-fiancé gets "taken care of." Even though his intention was to hurt you, you can't help but mourn what feels like the loss of your happiness. In fact, there's only one place you can feel happy right now, and you won't sleep until you're there.

"Jimmy?" you whisper through your sniffles. You stand before him as he sleeps soundly on the couch. "Jimmy?" A little louder this time, and that does the trick.

The man takes in a sharp inhale through his nose and his eyes pop open, "(Y/N), hey," he rubs his eyes, "you okay?" You just stand there quietly sniffling, and then Jimmy sees the redness in your face, "Hey, hey, c'mere honey, c'mere." He holds the blanket up for you to climb in, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, cuddling you in his cozy little spot on the couch. You simply bury your head into his chest, and let out a few tears. "Shhhh, shhh," he says as if cooing a baby, "it's okay, I'm here, everything's gonna be alright."

• • •

The sun brightly lights the whole open floor plan of your beach side escape, warming you and Jimmy in your bundle of blankets. You awake to the feeling of his fingers lazily combing through your hair, and when you crack your eyes open, you see him happily smiling down at you. You place a hand on his chest, and he covers it with one of his own, giving your fingers a squeeze.

"Morning, you hungry?" he greets you.

"Mmmm... Good morning, sweet man," you happily nuzzle into him.

He cups a hand on the back of your head, "Whaddaya say we get some breakfast, then ya wanna go swimming later today? Hm? We got that beautiful beach right out there." His head motions towards the large glass doors that look out onto the sand and sea.

"Only if we can stay here a little longer," you hum into his chest, perfectly content with just cuddling up to him all day long.

"Okay, princess, we can stay a little longer."

• • •

After a relaxed morning (yes, you both dozed back off to sleep for a while) and a nice breakfast of fresh fruits, juice, and pastries, you wait on the back patio for Jimmy to change into his swimsuit. When the sliding glass door glides open, you turn and see the man in swim trunks that hit about mid-thigh, short sleeve button up shirt that's unbuttoned, a gold chain, and a cigarette. Of course Jimmy dresses like that for the beach.

"Whaddaya think? How do I look?" he jokes at you.

You walk over and places your hands on his bare chest. "The view looks pretty good from here," you chuckle lowly.

Jimmy grunts, "You better watch those hands of yours," he warns, moving you off his chest before lightly taking your fingers in his. "Alright, let's go," he says, leading you towards the waves.

"Ya know, uh," Jimmy catches your attention.

"Hmm?" you chirp, hand still happily in his.

"How come you're still wearing this?" he asks, holding your hand up, and tapping his thumb on your engagement ring.

"Oh... um... I'm not sure, honestly," you look down at your hands, wringing them together and fidgeting with the little piece of jewelry. As you take your first few steps into the ocean, you slip the ring from your finger. "I guess it doesn't mean anything anymore," you ponder to yourself before chucking it into the water.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in surprise, "You didn't wanna sell it?"

You turn around and pat him on the chest, "I know you and the boys back home will make me more money than that ring is worth. It wouldn't surprise me if it was fake, knowing what I know now."

• • •

Time got away from you as the two of you enjoyed your day in the sun. After walking along the beach and Jimmy dunking you in the waves a few times (don't worry, you got him back), it's already early afternoon. And boy, were you beat.

"Hmmm, I think it's time for a nap!" you yawn, "This sun has got me drained."

"Wanna go inside?" Jimmy points to your little beach house.

"Yeah, but I don't think I can walk another step," you whine playfully, giving the man puppy eyes.

There's a long pause as Jimmy gives you a serious look, but he's only kidding. "You want me to carry you, don't you?"

"Yes, please!"

And with that, your feet are swept out from under you. Jimmy walks you across the sand and through the sliding glass door, right to the bathroom.

"What are we doing in here?" you question as he walks right into the shower, "Jimmy?!"

"Gotta rinse all the salt and sand off," is all he gets out before the shower faucet sprays cold water on you and the man holding you. You squeal loudly and practically jump from Jimmy's arms! You hold onto him tightly for warmth; luckily the water heats up quickly though.

"You bastard!!" you yell and give the man a swift pop on the chest.

"OW!" he giggles and rubs the spot that is quickly turning red.

Your face forms a pout, feeling bad for smacking him, "I'm sorry." You take a step forward and rub your hand on his chest to sooth the spot. When you place your other hand on his chest, you look up at him. Suddenly you feel his strong hands gripping the back of your head, and his lips meet yours. Your back comes into contact with the shower wall, and you're completely surrounded. You feel the muscles of Jimmy's arms squeezing around you as his tongue urges it's way into your mouth.

You could hardly explain it: the timing and the situation feel so wrong, but he feels so 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, like everything you had ever wanted- no, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.

Water soaks your hair, your face, your bodies as Jimmy fiercely kisses you. He's almost scared to stop.

But when you gently suck his bottom lip into your mouth and give it a nibble, it's game over.

Your friend-turned-lover rips open the shower curtain and starts walking you to the bedroom, his lips and his body never leaving yours. His tropical shirt slaps the ground in a wet heap, quickly followed by his swim trunks.

His lips find your neck, and you finally get a moment to catch your breath. Pressed against him as you step backwards, you feel his hands frantically working the straps of your swimsuit. You pull back from him just enough to see his face, and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

You simply look each other over, taking in the features of the other's face for a moment, before you lean forward and place your lips to his chastely, kissing him just once or twice. His rough hands gently caress your back, and then things turn passionate again when he slowly removes your top.

You always thought you'd be nervous to be with Jimmy, but after all, this is a man that you trust with your life. Wait- always? Did this imply you'd thought about being with him before?

In the heat of the moment you couldn't make sense of it. All you know right now is that Jimmy already has you naked and on the bed. It feels like your emotions are in a whirlwind, but Jimmy makes you feel good and you want more.

Your hands rake through his still wet hair, as he showers your chest in affection by kissing and sucking at your collarbone and breasts. He travels further down your body with his ministrations, until he reaches your soft inner thighs. You can feel his five o'clock shadow scratching at the delicate skin there, before he stops and looks up at you nervously. You'd never seen this man look nervous before.

His eyes beg for permission to go down on you and his hot breath passes over your center. You simply push down on his head a bit as a signal to go.

With his elbows buried in the soft mattress, forearms wrapped around your thighs, and eyes closed in concentration, his mouth surrounds that little bundle of nerves, lighting a fire in your belly. The sound of him breathing through his nose and your moans fill the room. Every hair on your body stands on end and your toes curl at the feeling of Jimmy Conway giving you head.

Oh God, Jimmy Conway is giving you head... Jimmy Conway your best friend. Jimmy Conway your Maid of Honor? You quickly push that thought away, then raise your head to look down at the man happily working away between your legs.

This is something you never thought you'd do with Jimmy, yet here you are, and oddly, it feels so... comfortable. You aren't nervous at all. Of course, you can't speak for him.

You lightly scruff up his hair, breathing heavily, "Jimmy..." The first word anyone had said in a while.

"Huh?" he says just after a loud slurping noise. His mouth hangs open in a relaxed way as he catches his breath and looks up at you from under his brow bone.

You let out a laugh in the form of a puff of air and a smile. Jimmy returns the smile; it's a happy smile with a hint of playful mischief in his eyes. A giggle slips out of you, then you both start laughing. At what, you aren't quite sure... the situation, maybe?

Your lover crawls on top of you and cuddles you by pressing his chest to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your hands explore his back, lightly scraping your nails over his shoulder blades and the small of his back.

He lets out a soft but deep moan before moving to kiss you again. His fingers nestle in your hair as he softly shows you his affection with his mouth. Your hands rest on his cheeks as he centers himself on top of you, one of his hands gripping under your thigh.

"This alright, princess?" he says in a near whisper.

"Yeah..." you exhale.

"You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah," you repeat, "I am." You give him a warm smile, cupping a hand on his face again, as if framing it to take a mental snapshot.

His next actions are incredibly gentle, but it makes everything all the more sensual. He plants a few kisses on your neck and collarbone before sitting up on his knees. His arm wraps around your thigh, holding it up in the air, as he aligns the head of his member with your entrance. The tip slides in pretty easily because of your wetness, and you can see Jimmy's breathing deepen; after that, the man moves slowly entering you, making you feel every inch of his length.

You had barely started and you're already both a mess. The pleasure is almost too much to take. Once Jimmy starts to move his hips, he leans forward once again, hovering over you on his hands and knees. You look up into his eyes, feeling his hardness moving inside you. Wanting to be closer to you, he drops down to his elbows and brings his knees up. His hands stroke some hair from your face while his hips rut into yours at a teasing pace.

After appreciating your how pretty you are, Jimmy moves his lips next to your ear and lowly says, "You feel incredible, baby. You feel so good..." He gives you a series of sloppy kisses on your jaw and earlobe.

You simply close your eyes, relax into the man on top of you, and give him an airy moan in response, "You feel good too, Jimmy."

"Mmmm, you like this pace? Or you want me to speed up?" You can feel his hot breath against your neck.

"Maybe, um, deeper?"

"Deeper, huh?" he whispers in your ear, "You wanna feel more of me?" He throws a little chuckle on the end of his question, and he readjusts by hooking a hand under your knee and pushing it up towards you for a deeper feeling while remaining close to you.

With each thrust you let out a grunt or breath of some kind, "Oooh... T-that's- Hnnng!"

"That the spot, baby girl?" Jimmy smiles to himself, happy that he's pleasing you.

A very shaky "mm-hmm" is all you can manage.

Jimmy speeds up his movements just a little, but still maintains a leisurely and romantic mood.

With a gasp, you start, "Jimmy, I- I'm-"

"Cum for me, baby," he coos, lightly sucking and nipping at a little spot on your neck.

"Fuck- Jimmy..." your climax hits you hard, making your head spin, and the only thing you can think about is the man before you, "Jimmy, I- I love you. I love you, Jimmy!"

Before you even have a moment to think about what you'd said, you hear, "I love you, too, (Y/N)," and several grunts and groans as he finds his release inside you.

Jimmy rolls off of you and trucks himself into your side. You hold the man in your arms tightly as you both come down from the high you just experienced. You turn your head to see him nuzzled into the crook of your neck, almost as if he's asleep. He cracks his eyes open at you and props himself up, putting his face close to yours.

You feel... shy for some reason as you press your lips to his, almost as if this is somehow more vulnerable than what you'd just done. You kiss each other softly, over and over, for what feels like a few minutes.

"You know, I didn't know you were close to finishing too," you tell Jimmy, trying to break some tension.

"Mm, well, I told you you felt good," he gives you a half smile, "I didn't know you loved me."

"Oh, well... It just kind of came out, but, uh, it was true. Still is." Another sweet kiss.

"You remember when I told you I couldn't wait to see you walk down that aisle? That was true too," he tells you.

You aren't sure where that came from, and it confuses you, "But... You knew I wasn't gonna get married that day."

"Yeah, but I am gonna see you walk down the aisle one day... when you marry me," he looks down and bites his lip.

You let out a flabbergasted little breath, "Jimmy..."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," he coos, "I love you. I wasn't gonna ever let you marry that other guy. Why do you think I looked into him so hard?"

"I don't understand. Why didn't you just ask me out years ago?" your question ends in a whisper.

"'Cuz I didn't realize what I had 'til I saw it in another man's arms," he tangles his fingers in your hair for another kiss, "but I'm not gonna let it get away from me this time."

• • •

Needless to say, you didn't see much of the beach or much of anyone the rest of your time in the Bahamas. You two already knew everything there was to know about another person, so you spent a lot of time exploring each other... in new ways.

So, it's bittersweet going home to Brooklyn. You'd been away a few months to let tensions between the two crime families die down. You would miss all of the alone time with your new man, but you're so happy to see your dad again.

"Thanks for driving us home from the airport, papa," you say, giving Paulie a side hug as he unlocks the door to the house not too far from the cab stand. You're greeted with hoots and hollers from Tommy, Henry and Karen, Tuddy, and a few others as you step inside. "What's this?!"

"Oh, uh, just a little surprise," Paulie chuckles, "A welcome home party for Jimmy and my girl."

Everyone starts exchanging hugs, giving you and Jimmy a proper New York welcome. As you put your arms around Henry's shoulders, you hear Karen from behind him, "OH no! I know ya not still wearin' your engagement ring," she grabs your hand and pulls you toward her to inspect the ring closer. Her voice lowers a bit, "No, this one's different. It's got pearls on it."

The room is filled with confused faces, until Jimmy takes your other hand in his, "Well, uh, we were on a little island for 2 or 3 months, pearls was all they had!"

Suddenly you're surrounded with Ooh's and Aah's and an "Attaboy Jimmy!" as it dawns on everyone that you're engaged.

"Hey, wait 'til they tell ya about how I'm gonna be a grandad!!" Paulie announces, and again the room fills with noise from everyone's surprise and congratulations. Any other family might have found it odd that you rushed into a new relationship, but this group likes keeping a closed circle, and everyone had their bets placed on you and Jimmy from day one.

Speak of the Devil, you feel his arms slip around you and a hand rests on your baby bump. He whispers in your ear, "I love you both so much. This is the way it always shoulda been."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I'm not sure if you're still taking request but could we have an s/o (male or female) try to save Gonta from his execution but his s/o get a deep cut in their stomach but managed to kill the robotic wasp before started to bleed out?

“[Y/n]..don’t be stupid..” Maki warned you, grabbing your wrist before you could make a move towards Gonta. 

But even though you remained still, your eyes were transfixed with horror and anger upon seeing him--as well as his Alter Ego--tied to the wooden post in some outdoors wild west setting. There was no way you can just watch whatever messed-up execution Monokuma had in store for him.

It wasn’t fair. Although Gonta’s avatar committed the murder..it just didn’t seem right that your actual boyfriend, who had no memory of anything that happened in the virtual world whatsoever, was being punished, too.

You couldn’t let that slide. You didn’t care if you got punished along with him.

All this time you’ve seen that stupid bear take away too many of your friends with his motives and twisted executions...but not this time.

“No! I’m not being stupid.” You tore your wrist free from the assassin’s grasp, staring at her. “It’s not right! Why should Gonta himself be punished?! Wh-Why not..Kokichi who coerced him into doing this?!” 

Then your gaze briefly went to the teary-eyed supreme leader. “Fake those tears all you want..you threw my boyfriend under the bus! I never should’ve left him alone with you!”

For once in his life, he had nothing to say--instead he only looked down at the ground in silence.

“Do you want to die?”

You looked back at Maki as her trademark question tumbled from her lips. But you just sighed and backed away from her. “If it means saving the one I love...yes.”

And with that declaration, you turned around and saw Monokuma in a cowboy outfit, shooting several robotic wasps out of his gun’s barrel. Meanwhile Monophanie was writhing on the ground, her stomach bloated as Monotaro looked on in horror.

‘It’s now or never...I won’t let him die here!’ You found a metal pipe and ran towards Gonta, dodging the Exisals and attacking the wasps. But they were far too numerous to hit all at once and they ignored you completely, stinging the entomologist.

His face became red and swelled-up, though he could see you fighting viciously to save him, and he was shocked yet humble. “[Y/n]..” He rasped as you managed to reach him.

“I-It’s okay..” You looked up at him, smiling. “I-I’m gonna get you dow-”

“Oh no..look...”

Confused, you turned around, eyes widening as you saw an even bigger robotic wasp burst from Monophanie’s stomach, destroying her before it turned and sliced the last Monokub in half.

When it turned its red eyes to you next..you grasped the pipe in your hands tightly. You didn’t have time to get Gonta down--you had to kill this monster first..for his sake.

The wasp flew towards you at such a high speed, readying one of its blades. But you charged at it and let out a shout as you stabbed it through the eye. It shrieked and fell to the ground, although you let out your own gasp of pain when you realized it stabbed your stomach.

You tried ignoring it as you jabbed the pipe through its head completely, ripping it off before throwing it a good distance away. 

“H-Hah..not my boyfriend y-you....son of a bitch..” Then you collapsed to the ground, pink blood oozing into the dirt as you looked up to see Gonta’s tearful eyes, before you lost conscious.

Monokuma seemed just as shocked at what happened, but as he approached you two with a flamethrower, he only stopped when Gonta managed to speak.

“P-Please..not [y/n]. Save them. Take Gonta..”

The bear looked at him for a few moments, before glancing to the other students and nodding his head. Kaito was the first to react as he pushed past everyone, racing to pick you up and carry you away from the execution.

One thing was certain...

He was glad you weren’t awake to see the massive fire that soon engulfed Gonta and his Alter Ego.

[knb-no-scenario]

Hello! I'm anon who ask headcanons about Rakuzan boys. Thank you very much! It was great. I was really happy to read it. I like this headcanons and your blog. I like Rakyzan boys too. May I request headcanons (or scenario) about their manager proving to be specialist in getting data and analysis as Momoi? And the reaction to this by Rakuzan, GoM, Kuroko and Momoi (you can tell about their reaction in scenario or remove someone if you want). Thank you very much! This made my day.

thank you for the request! ahhh you’re making me cry (ﾉД`) super happy to know that you like my writing! hope you like this one too♡ hm, this ends up more as the gom spending time together scenario…

No one knew about your analytical abilities because you never really told anyone about it, and the team never asked you to provide an analysis for them in the first place. So once they knew, they were really shocked.

You watched as Akashi trained the Rakuzan team who were all out of their breaths by now. The emperor was merciless, giving them drills and demanding for their progress.

What was the reason? Well, Seirin came by yesterday for a practice match and the match ended with a draw. But when was a draw ever good enough for Akashi?

After sending the team a murderous glare, Akashi finally allowed them to have a short break. Everyone trudged towards you wearing an expression like a puppy that had just been kicked.

“[Name]-chan, if I die, don’t forget me, okay?!” Hayama was about to glomp you before Nebuya stopped him by grabbing his jersey.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be near your smelly self.”

“Ei-chan! You’re mean!”

You giggled at their antics, watching as they gulp down their respective beverages. Not long afterwards, Akashi walked to the rest of you, his face still tense.

You then reached for a file in your bag before giving it to him. “Umm, I made these notes yesterday during the game with Seirin. I hope they can be of help..”

Akashi looked surprised. He took the file from you and opened it in interest.

“Eehh?” Mibuchi moved closer to Akashi to read it too with Hayama closely behind him.

“Wo~ah! These are so detailed!” Hayama took one look and immediately exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

“Wow, you even drew formation suggestions and weird diagrams.” Nebuya stood behind Akashi to view it with his team.

“This is…” Akashi looked at you with wide eyes, “really helpful.”

“Ah?” You blinked and tilted your head to the side, “Really? I’m glad, then!” You smiled enthusiastically, giving him another file, “I’ve been making these observations from your past games as well.” You held up a finger when Akashi opened his mouth to talk, “..and this one, from today’s practice. I don’t think drilling everyone with the same exercise is effective, Seijūrō-kun. Based on my observations, I think individual training suited to everyone’s special skills will bring out their abilities more.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped. “[Name]-chan! You’re a genius!” Mibuchi’s gasp made you blush, not expecting that compliment.

“Ah, that’s..”

“He’s right. This is very detailed and well thought-out.” Akashi agreed, examining your notes. “Thank you, [Name]. You’re quite analytical.”

You only smiled, happy to be able to help your friends.

With your notes, the team was able to quickly improve their playing. Akashi couldn’t resist telling his friends about your hidden skill and boasting to them about you. Soon, the Generation of Miracles got interested and wanted to see the results for themselves.

“Ah, your team really did improve.” Aomine had to admit half-heartedly when Nebuya made a dunk, ending the game with a 35-21.

Akashi smiled, enjoying the compliment. He turned his head to the rest of the GoM who were watching from the sidelines, all having a serious expression on their faces. “You believe me now, yes?”

“Waah, [Name]-chan, you’re amazing! These notes are so detailed!” While the boys were playing, you and Momoi were busy chatting.

“Ah.. not compared to yours, Satsuki-chan.” You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, “But thanks.”

“Heey, [Name]-cchi, make notes for my team too, will you?” You heard Kise call out to you.

“I would like that too.” Midorima pushed his glasses up, looking at you seriously.

“If it’s no problem, my team could really benefit from your notes as well, [Name]-chan.” Kuroko piped up.

“Mine too. I’ll even give [Name]-chin the newest Mauibo flavor as a payment. Fair trade?” You didn’t even realise that Murasakibara was already behind you and Momoi and gasped.

Akashi glared at all of them. “Keep dreaming. [Name] is a precious asset of Rakuzan. Her skills are for me only.” When he noticed the GoM’s amused stares, he quickly added, “Me and my team.”

Happy that everyone is benefitting from your notes, you often made notes for GoM’s teams (while keeping it a secret from Akashi, of course).

“Thank you for your notes, they were really helpful.” Midorima had been visiting Rakuzan on a monthly basis for three months now to give you small presents in exchange for the notes you’d given him (even though you told him that he didn’t have to do that).

“You’re welcome! Thank you for the lucky pen. I scored really high on my last test.” You giggled when he proudly nodded.

“Ah, so I was correct after all.” The two of you jumped when Akashi appeared from out of nowhere, “You have been doing business with an enemy team.”

“Ah, you don’t have to put it like that…”

“You’re defying me, Shintarō. I do not like that.”

Midorima merely shrugged. “Unfortunately, so is everyone else.”

Because of the time you spent together with the other GoM, all of you got closer. They often gave you things and bought you meals to thank you for your notes.

“Huuh? What are you all doing here?”

“Ah, Daiki-kun!” You looked up from the menu to see Aomine walking his way to you with the rest of Toō behind him. “Tetsuya-kun and Kagami-kun is treating me. I asked Satsuki-chan to accompany me as well. Getting free food… ah, it’s the start of a good summer break.”

To thank you, Kuroko had offered to treat you for lunch and said that Kagami would tag along. So you decided to ask Momoi to join you (to which she very eagerly accepted). You were quite surprised to see someone you knew, but also happy. After all, the more, the merrier.

“You’re still doing business with enemy teams I see.” Akashi appeared from behind an equally surprised Imayoshi. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop?”

“Waah, since when was he there?” Wakamatsu whispered, sweatdropping.

“Seijūrō-kun, what on earth are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “Do you want to join us?”

“Eh? Does he have to?” Kagami was a bit creeped out by the Rakuzan captain. “And do we have to pay for his food as well?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Akashi answered, ignoring Kagami’s obvious discomfort. He sat down next to you while Aomine and his team sat at the table next to yours.

“Hmm, should I call the rest of the guys?” Momoi thought aloud, “I heard the Shūtoku boys are nearby!”

“Ah, and Ryōta-kun is modeling in a studio near this place.” You added, nodding.

“That sounds nice.” Kuroko smiled, sipping his milkshake contentedly. “But I only have the money to pay for our meals.”

Aomine and Kagami glanced at Akashi, both thinking the same thing.

“Yes, consider it my treat.” He sighed. “But don’t ask for more notes from [Name], understand?”

Everyone laughed when the two guys looked the other way, grinning.

[thewollfgang]

I'm feeling kinda bad about sending another Fjord/Jester prompt so don't feel obliged to fill it out! Maybe 'one falling asleep and laying their head on the other’s shoulder/chest' for Fjord and Jester? I'm still not over that whole murder attempt while sleeping business.

never feel bad! I am LIVING for prompts from other fandoms, i get very excited. request all the critical role you want! 

.

“Fjord?” Jester’s voice pipes up clear and sweet like a rung bell. “Fjord? Are you up here?” She’s leaning over, eyes peering into the dark, clearly searching for him. 

He knows as well as anyone, Jester won’t give up until she finds him. Fjord lets out a long sigh and shifts to where he can be seen, back pressed up against a crate. “I’m over here, Jester.”

“Oh, thank the Traveler.” She steps over to him and eyes him critically hand on her hips. “Why are you on the ground?”

“Why not?” he finds himself replying. He’s so tired and attempting to explain exactly why he’s holed himself up here is wearying enough not to bother.

She plunks down next to him. “Well, because there’s a perfectly good bed in the captain’s quarters. Marius changed the sheets and everything, there’s not even any blood on them,” she informs him. 

“Were you looking for me?” He shifts a little to face her better. 

She shrugs, eyes on her hands fiddling with her skirt. “It’s just that you weren’t in bed when I went to check on you like a totally normal and good friend would do and you weren’t there and I just got a bit worried, you know? Especially after- after what happened the other night.”

“Yes, well,” he starts, but doesn’t really have anything to add to that.

“And I just thought that I better check the ship first in case you were keeping watch or something.”

He tries to muster up a smile. “Thank you, Jester. That’s...that’s very kind.”

She grins at him with unadulterated happiness. “I know. So!” she says brightly. “Why are you out here sitting by yourself in a bunch of boxes like a weirdo in the dark?” 

He snorts a soft sound of amusement at her candor. “I found I couldn’t sleep. After all that happened.” He rubs at his chest. “I came up here to try and get some respite.”

She huffs. “Well that’s stupid.”

“Pardon me?” Perhaps a bit too much candor. 

“How are you supposed to feel better all by yourself?” she asks. And the fact is, she’s right. As the sound of the waves and the tilt of the boat pressed in on him, he’d found himself more and more anxious, a sickness swaying in his belly in time with the vessel below him. It’s since faded with Jester’s presence. 

He blinks at her. “Well, I’m not by myself anymore, am I?”

She narrows her eyes. “Technically, that’s only because I came to find you.”

He smiles and it feels less false on his face. “I’m glad you did.”

She sighs and leans her head against him, the edge of her horn knocking harmlessly against his shoulder armor. He wears it now, the full set, even when attempting to get some sleep. He notices that Jester is fully dressed as well, metal glinting over fabric, but perhaps it’s simply because she was up and roaming the ship. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Fjord,” she says, her voice soft. He finds himself bringing an arm around her shoulder, her skin is cool where her dress reveals her shoulders, and tucks her against his side. 

“I, as well.” It had been close, too close, last night. His sternum aches. Jester’s hand comes up to press there. A refreshing chill spreads out from her palm. It’s not magic, not the rush of healing, but merely something intrinsic to Jester herself. Cool and calming. He feels...safe. Safer than he did before, safe enough that his vigilance gives way to his exhaustion. He closes his eyes. 

He finds himself drifting off, slipping down to press his chin to the top of her head, falling asleep to the rocking of the boat and the steady swell of her breathing. 

[fonulyn]

Hello! I'm not sure if you're still taking prompt requests, and if not that's fine, but I love your writing! Could I request something where Chris comes back from a mission, only to find out that Leon is in the hospital after his own mission goes wrong? Thank you! :)

thank you anon! ❤ I’m happy you enjoy the ficcage! and this probably didn’t turn out as angsty as you were imagining, ansfjgkhn i’m sorry for that. but I hope you can enjoy the fluff instead! :3 also features Claire bc I couldn’t resist.

-

for this! | read on ao3 instead!

–

“Ha! I win!” Claire announced as she all but slammed the last two cards down on the bed, before throwing her arms up in a victory pose. “Again!”

“How the fuck are you so good at this,” Leon grumbled, shaking his head a little as he dropped the cards from his own hands. “That was like the sixteenth round in a row and I haven’t won a single one of them.” He could’ve blamed the painkillers he was on, sure, but truth to be told he was aware that they had little to do with this. Even if he hadn’t been pumped full of painkillers he would’ve lost, knowing her.

“Well,” Claire smiled sweetly, “Seventeenth, to be exact.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I’d kick your ass if my foot wasn’t in a cast.” He aimed for an annoyed tone but there was no suppressing his smile, just because her enthusiasm was so contagious. She’s rushed here the moment she’d heard he’d been hurt, and when he’d woken up in the hospital bed she’d been right there.

A tiny part of Leon had hoped it would’ve been a different Redfield by his bedside when he woke up, but he knew that Chris was on a job, and that he couldn’t just fly back in the second he wanted to. Besides Claire was his best friend, he wasn’t going to complain about her keeping him company. Especially as he knew it was just a matter of time before Chris would be there, too.

As Leon had just been thinking of Chris, he almost thought that he was imagining it when suddenly Chris’ voice cut through the brief silence.

“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

They both turned towards the doorway, where the voice came from. Chris was standing there, looking like he’d barely taken the time to shower after coming home from a mission - and that only probably because he was coming to a med ward and didn’t want to contaminate everything. He was smiling, though, relief evident on his face as he took in the scene.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Leon quipped, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. “Next time I’ll make sure I’ll be actively dying so it’s worth the trip.”

Claire was the one who reacted first, slapping his knee - thankfully the non-injured leg, at least - and glared at him. “I know you’re joking, but watch that. If you’ll get yourself killed I’ll murder you.”

Meanwhile Chris had walked into the room, stopping only when he was standing right at the bedside. He reached out and carded his fingers into the hair in the back of Leon’s head, and leaned in to press a kiss onto his temple. “Glad to see you in one piece,” he murmured, his smile widening a little as he felt Leon lean further against him.

“Want me to give you some privacy?” Claire asked, looking at the two softly.

“No,” Chris shook his head, “it’s fine. I haven’t seen you in ages. Besides, looks like Leon needs some help.” He gestured towards the piles of cards strewn onto the bed, chuckling as he knew in one single glance what had been going on. “I can tell you all the ways she cheats in this,” he promised Leon, already pulling a chair closer so he could join in.

“Hey!” Claire protested immediately. “I do not cheat. You just suck!” Despite her (mostly faked) indignation, she already gathered the cards to shuffle them so she could then deal them another round.

There were dark circles under Leon’s eyes, and he still looked like he might pass out any second from tiredness alone. Yet despite that, he seemed to be in high spirits, especially for someone with a shattered ankle. He reached out and grabbed Chris’ hand in his own, and as he laced their fingers together he gave Chris a grin. “Let’s take her down.”

“As if you could ever do that,” Claire laughed, “Although I might have to let you win at the housewarming party, Chris has been unbearable about it for weeks now and I c—” Suddenly she cut herself off, noticing how Chris was gesturing for her frantically, trying to make her shut up.

“What are you talking about?” Leon frowned, clearly confused. As it became obvious that Claire wasn’t going to answer his question, he turned to Chris instead, arching an eyebrow. “What is she talking about?”

Behind his back, Claire quickly mimed zipping her mouth shut, giving Chris a sheepish smile. And as much as Chris wanted to just throw something at her, he just gave Leon the most innocent smile he could possibly manage. “I have no idea. She’s just trying to distract us so she’ll win the next round too!”

“Caught me,” Claire piped up immediately, while already dealing out the cards accordingly. “What can I say,” she went on, as nonchalantly as she could, “all is fair in love and war.”

The words startled a laugh out of Leon. “So it’s ‘war’ now?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “Fine. If it’s war that you want, a war you will get.” He reached out and grabbed the pile of cards from beside his knee, jaw set determinedly as he focused on them. Beside him, Chris breathed a sigh of relief, before setting out to do exactly what he’d promised. They would win this round.

They didn’t.

*

There was a bounce to Chris’ steps as he walked into the room, and it immediately caught Leon’s attention. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked, laughing a little as the first answer he got was Chris stepping closer to him and leaning in to steal a quick, chaste kiss. Not that Leon minded that, at all, seeing Chris happy always did wonders to his own mood too.

“Are you ready?” Chris asked, holding out the bag he’d brought with him, as if to show it off. “They told me I can take you home today. So I brought some clothes.”

“Fucking finally,” Leon groaned, letting his head fall back into the pillows with a thud. “I already thought they’d keep me in here forever.” A mild exaggeration, perhaps, but he was always restless and antsy at hospitals, no matter if he was the patient or not, and it was the best news in a while that he’d get to leave. “How did you manage that?” he couldn’t help but ask, curious as to how he was being discharged already. He had expected to be held there for at least a couple of more days.

“I can be persuasive if I want to,” Chris answered, without any further explanation. Instead he dug around the bag, fished out the loose sweatpants and a soft, cuddly sweatshirt he’d brought for Leon. Not exactly anything super stylish, but definitely comfortable, and that was probably the better option right now.

So Leon allowed Chris to help him get dressed, and didn’t even put up a fight when Chris insisted on wheeling him out to the car in one of the wheelchairs. He was feeling so good about getting to leave, about his life getting back to some semblance of normal, that he was glad to give Chris whatever he wanted. And if it was to coddle him a little? Then sure. He could live with that.

They didn’t talk much during the drive, but the radio was on and Chris was humming along to whatever was playing, even kept drumming on the steering wheel with his fingers. It made Leon smile, watching him, but the painkillers still made him feel a little hazy and it only took minutes before he was already dozing off.

So he didn’t pay attention to where they were going. The drive had felt longer than usual, but he just figured that his brain wasn’t all online yet, and that his sense of time was lost somewhere in the sleepy fog in his mind.

He only came back to reality when Chris stopped the car in the driveway of a house that he didn’t recognize. “This isn’t…” Leon started, trailing off as he took in his surroundings. It obviously wasn’t his apartment, much less the little hole in the wall Chris lived in. But it wasn’t the home of any of their friends, either, and Leon wracked his brain trying to figure out what was going on.

The small house stood there almost in isolation, surrounded by large trees on both sides. It was painted light blue, and there was even a friggin’ white picket fence around the small front garden. For a good moment Leon just stared at it, mouth agape, before turning to Chris with a frown. “Where are we, Redfield?”

“So. I know we didn’t decide on anything yet,” Chris started, a telltale flush on his cheeks as he avoided looking straight at Leon. He was squeezing the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white, and automatically Leon placed a palm on top of Chris’ right hand to make him ease his grip. That made Chris glance at him, and even though the blush was still there he did look a lot less tense as he went on. “And if you hate it I can still get rid of it, but… I put in the deposit for it.”

Leon couldn’t help but stare, eyes wide. Sure they had talked about moving in together, more than once, but somehow they’d never managed to actually take that step. Not until now, apparently. He opened his mouth once, twice, and nothing came out, before he finally managed to burst out a stunned “You got us a house?”

That made Chris laugh and he shrugged. “I got us a house.” He flexed his fingers and finally let go of the steering wheel, turning towards Leon to face him better. The embarrassed flush was still like stuck on his face, a hint of nervousness in his smile. “I mean. If you want it.”

Wordlessly Leon leaned in, capturing Chris’ lips in a kiss that he hoped spoke volumes of how much he wanted this, how ready he was for this step in their relationship. It didn’t last for long, though, and impatiently Leon pulled back and immediately unbuckled his seatbelt. “Help me out of the car,” he ordered, “I want to see how it looks like inside!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Chris jumped out of the car to do exactly as he’d been told.

[limited-practice]

I miss Pipes. And Hubcap. And I wonder about them writing to each other 'all the time' before it became 'used to.'

And what they wrote about in their messages to each other. Maybe their earlier ones were still light hearted but light on banalities. They'd message several times a day and talk about anything and everything, and their faces would always light up when they saw a new message icon on their datapad.

But then Hubcap's training with Roadbuster happened, and his messages became more infrequent and got shorter and shorter as he was brought to the brink of death and then, gradually, became longer and longer as he recovered. But they were now stretched thin and sucked dry of substance. Hubcap didn't have the words to describe what he'd been through and how he was feeling at having survived, which was a poisonous untreated mixture of relief and rage and guilt which he kept brutally surpressed until he stumbled across Roadbuster's release after minimal rehab on Prowl's orders and broke.

Pipes knew his friend was suffering but he didn't have the nerve to address it, so he skirted around it and Hubcap didn't bring it up and that made it easier to pretend that everything was fine and back to normal. Hubcap put in a request to get transferred to Debris so he could continue working for justice and the greater good and for himself and they parted, telling each other they'd see each other soon and would write every day. Each knew it was a lie because there was something hard and invisible between them now, and Hubcap was too committed and scared to abandon his plan and refused to leave and join the Lost Light with Pipes and they parted further.

And then Pipes wrote his final understated message to Hubcap, not knowing he'd never see his friend again because he was just about to die and that Hubcap would also be murdered.

If Hubcap could have responded I think he would have said something like "Dear Pipes, I'm glad you're having a good time and made some new friends on your new ship. I've made some on mine as well. Debris is nice and the Wreckers are nice and they let me do my work in peace. Sometimes they don't talk to me for weeks. We should have movie night together again. Anyway speak soon, Hubcap. Bye."