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for-a-longlongtime · 2 months ago

Text

Little Beast

Written for @perotovar 's writing challenge 'An Offering of Frith'. The P Boys they had planned were already taken, so I asked for Santiago Garcia and got Fenrir assigned! Pairing: Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales Word count: 18.5K Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 (DDDNE) DARK fic, AU. Extreme angst from A to Z. Lots of violence (guns, knives, beating, kicking), swearing, hate crime, homophobia (repeated use of a slur), abuse, repeated assault and murder, kidnapping, many mentions of blood and injuries, raiding, (body) horror, nightmares, substance use/abuse (alcohol, cocaine), smoking, arms trafficking, sex work, mental health struggles, trauma. M/M pairing, frotting, masturbation. Norse mythology meets Santi + P Boys meets magic realism in Colombia in the early nineties (so: Narcos related references like Escobar, the Castaño brothers and the Cali cartel).

A/N's: Written in Second Person - not reader insert, but Santiago's POV (aka you are Santi). Not gonna lie, this one is A LOT; writing it turned into some out-of-body experience. More about the gods & characters (and thank you’s) in foot notes.

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Bogota, Colombia.

You’re five years old and your name is Santiago. The house you share with your brothers and parents is small, deep in the comunas, and most people know where to find it. Lots of them will stop by, because of papi’s work, sometimes very early in the morning or really late at night. When you ask what kind of work he does, mama hushes you, and your brother Jay looks away. Your brother Joel however will quietly stare at your dad - too calm, while his eyes are so angry.

You’re seven years old and you still don’t know what your father’s job is. Not a teacher, or someone at the market. Not one of the guys who cleans up the trash on your corner. For a while you thought that maybe he was a butcher, because mami was often cleaning the blood from his clothes. “It stains so bad.” But you’d never seen him in the market, selling his wares.

Every few weeks he is gone for a long time, and often the police will visit the house, which always makes your mom cry.

Every now and then a new face will show at the house, asking to speak to your mother. The girls are always very pretty, dressed in bright colors. The guys often have shiny guns; some of them will let you hold it when mami isn’t in the room.

You see your father all the time when you’re waiting with her at the store. Often he’ll wear a funny looking hat, and sometimes his face looks different. But you know it’s him, always, by the smile and wink he gives you. When you tell mami, she never sees him and starts crying again, so you stop telling her about it.

Jay doesn’t come home often anymore. When you ask Joel if that is your fault, if you made him cry too, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”

You’re not sure if you are.

When it’s your eighth birthday, your father suddenly shows up with presents that make you the envy of your friends. Boxing gloves, a large pocket knife - that your mom right away tries to take away from you -, and you all eat so much dulce de leche cake.

You wake up in the middle of the night because you hear your father arguing. The loud bangs that follow are unmistakingly gun shots, and you find one of the casings the next morning near the front door. When you ask your mami about it, she gets so angry that you run away from home for the afternoon to hide, until it gets dark and she’s had the drinks that make her happier.

When you got the boxing gloves, you didn’t know that they would also give you more time with your father - but they do. He teaches you how to throw a punch, how to avoid an attack, read someone’s body language. When to attack someone if you need to defend yourself. Which parts of the body are most vulnerable, and where to stab somebody to make them bleed out quickly.

He’s proud, always, as he tells people about how good of a fighter you’re becoming. “Takes after me.” You don’t - not really, but you do your best to make him continue to believe that. Until you start to believe it too and knock out a guy who is twice your age.

When you’re ten, they try to burn down your house. You don’t know exactly who ‘they’ are, but you’ve heard the name El Gran Señor Lorenzano often enough to know that you should fear him.

The first time it happens, your dad is just in time to stop the fire from escalating. The second time, he’s not home, so you do put out the flames together with Joel.

The third time starts with a flaming bottle being thrown through a window, and as you all stare at the sight, the door gets knocked down and men with masks on their faces storm into the house

Your father runs away, seems to escape the men somehow. Your mom is hysterical and won’t listen to anyone, not even when the tall guy hits her in the face, and you want to beg her to not cry because you know it makes men more angry at her. Not even with your fight training do you stand any chance, and all you hear when somebody shoves a bag over your head and drags you outside and into a van, is your brother’s voice - Joel yelling at you to not fight the men and just protect yourself.

You’ve been away from home for almost a year when you turn eleven, to the point that you don’t think of it anymore as an actual place you can go to. You think you’re still in Bogota but you’re not sure. Sometimes they make you get in a truck again, or a car. Almost always you have to hide; you know that they don’t want people to see you. Sometimes there are other people, or even kids, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve seen at least a dozen dead bodies over the past months.

It’s when they send you to training camp that you realize there’s no way they’re ever going to let you go. The training unit is not the army, but it feels like a military group somehow. Maybe this is like the guerilla fighters you’ve heard about, defending your country.

This time you fight without the boxing gloves, using only your hands or sticks, just like the other kids your age are also being trained.

There are five of you, and Ramiro explains to each of you how to get to the location. The white powder isn’t heavy, tightly packaged in plastic, and every step of the way to your contact person you’re terrified of losing it somehow. You know the consequences - have seen the boys who were shot in the head, and the ones who weren’t lucky enough to die so quickly.

The man who is waiting for you is tall, fat and smells like grease and blood. You don’t remember much of what he says, your heart thumps so loud that it feels like it’s inside of your ears as you accept the package he hands you in return.

You’re one of the four boys who make it back.

Gustavo, the fifth boy, shows up two days later. His lifeless body is covered in bruises and blood, and when someone dares to ask what happened, the answer is that rats will be dealt with accordingly. “Exterminated.”

After three nights of solid nightmares and another mutilated body that’s found outside as a warning, you stop trying to think of ways to escape.

You’re almost twelve when you meet Francisco.

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He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he’s not shy. When some of the older boys mistake that for fear, deciding to taunt him, he doesn’t respond initially. Only once the biggest bully steps right up to him, a sneer on his face, does Francisco lift his eyes to him and stares him down - and you can feel the tension.

You see the twitch of Francisco’s jaw, and even before the other guy takes a swing you know this is not going to end well for the bully.

It’s impressive how fast the new kid tackles his attacker to the ground, blood streaming from the boy’s noise as he scrambles to get away. But Francisco’s hand closes around his throat, keeping him pinned down. In a flash you see a piece of glass held against the boy’s neck, and that’s when you know for sure Francisco learned to fight the way you did. Your father’s voice echoes in your head, “If you stab someone there, it’s all over.”

You want to be his friend.

Not because he’s a good fighter; he’s far from the only one around here. It’s because he seems to be one of the few kids who doesn’t want to fight, just like you.

By the time you’re twelve, you and Francisco - Frankie - have become inseparable. You know that he’s never known who his mother is and that his father was recently killed by Pero Tovar, one of Lorenzano’s most feared men.

While the other kids try to get their hands on cigarettes, or booze, Frankie is just interested in books.

You like watching him read. On the very rare occasion that nobody else is around, he’ll often read something out loud for you. Mark Twain. Something about going to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company.

The first time Frankie reads that aloud, you have your eyes closed while listening to his voice. It makes you think of the ‘business’ your dad would do, or the way Lorenzano’s men would refer to ‘the company’ and ‘the big boss’. Bullet casings and dried up blood, the smell of your mami cooking beans with pork, and how some nights you fell asleep listening to her cry when your father still hadn’t returned home.

The second time Frankie read those words to you, about a year or so later, you realize it isn’t about going to hell for the work you do. It’s about not being alone in hell since you’ve got someone by your side.

The runs you’re sent on to drop off the product are not that bad at first. It’s a relief to be able to walk the streets, not be holed up inside or be in training.

Most of the kids that work for the cartels still live with their families in the comunas. You, Frankie and the others don’t have that freedom.

There are curfews to follow, gun practice, different kinds of training. It’s not the army, but it might as well be.

There often is discussion about the ACCU, Autodefensas Campesinas de Córdoba y Urabá run by the Castaño brothers. But when one of the other boys mentions FARC, he’s immediately silenced with a hard slap to his face by the instructor. “Those fucking communists. They’re the problem, you understand me?”

Pablo Escobar, however, turns out to be one of the few topics that’s welcomed for discussion by your instructors. Sometimes you have to think of the prayer candle your grandmother would light at the small altar in her living room, the framed picture of Escobar on the wall almost as large as the one of your late grandfather.

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Frankie is the only person you confide in, and you listen to the stories he tells you about his father. In return, you tell him about your brothers, Joel in particular - but the nightmares you have that night are enough to stop you from bringing them up again. It’s better not to think of your family; keep them locked away in small boxes in the back of your mind, where you can pretend they’re okay.

You’re both still not sure how you ended up here. When Frankie points out Tovar one time in passing, you recognize the man with the scar on his face as one of your dad’s frequent visitors. And the person who tried to kill him that night they took you away.

You’ve been getting some attention from the girls, but it’s nothing to the amount that is directed at Francisco - not just the girls in your group, but even during a drop-off in the brothels at times. That’s how you’re both urged to ‘take some time with a girl you like’ when you join Juan for a drop-off. While you’re fucking a brunette who is a few years older than you are, Frankie is getting busy with a pretty red head on the other side of the room. You try to sneak a peek every now and then, but you know you have to be careful. If anyone catches you looking, you’ll get your ass beaten up - but you still can’t keep your eyes off him.

The girl - Rosa? - under you moans, calls you ‘papi’ as she asks you to fuck her harder, and you do so. She’s tight and wet around your cock, and pretty, and you like her small tits, but your head is too focused on not openly looking at Frankie, making it hard to come. Once you do, Rosa kisses your cheek as she gets up, gives you a towel and she tells you she’s gonna clean up. Frankie finishes up not long after that.

When you’re both waiting in the dark alley out back for Juan to wrap up business inside, sharing a cigarette with Frankie, you can’t help but ask him. “Was it good?” You’re hoping he says no - that you’re not the only one who barely got off. Because maybe you’re not the weirdo if there’s at least one other person who feels the same, who isn’t thrilled like you know the other boys would be. “The girl.”

Frankie shrugs as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes. “She was friendly. Nice.”

You wait for more words, but they don’t come from Frankie. So you try to force your own words out. “Yeah. Friendly.”

When Frankie opens his eyes again, he looks tired and conflicted. Unsure perhaps. He lifts the cigarette to his lips again, and your guard is down too much to stop your eyes from following that movement.

His mouth.

Fuck, now you’re really hard.

“We’re friends, right?” Frankie’s voice is hoarse, and somehow that sound makes your dick throb even more.

You nod, then clear your own throat when you realize it’s not really all that clear in this dark street. “Yeah, of course,” you manage, trying to remember how long it’s been since you two met. Four, five years?

More of Frankie’s lips around the cigarette, and more tiredness in his eyes. Perhaps the uncertainty in his expression is more like the fear you’ve had beating in your chest now for half an hour already.

“Good.” Frankie nods, and before you can ask him why, he pushes you back against the brick wall, covering your mouth with his. You groan softly, your breathing suddenly so fast as he kisses you in a way you’ve never experienced before - in a way that, until now, you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone.

The sigh that escapes from Frankie’s mouth into yours is quiet, but you can feel the relief in his body when you kiss him back, feel how he grabs your hips and presses closer against you. You’re so hard that for a moment you can’t think straight, not until you feel him grind his cock against you, and then everything just goes electric in your head, because he’s just as hard as you are, and there is no time, because anyone can walk in on you two right now. It’s such a fucking dumb thing to do here - or anywhere.

He whispers your name, making it sound like a question, and when you nod and suck on his tongue, his hands slip from your waist to your ass, grabbing you tight and oh - fuck. Fuuuck.

It’s not even a minute of desperate kissing, panting, the uncomfortable but so fucking good rub of his cock against yours through your clothes, and before you know it you’re whispering his name too, the word turning into a plea, because please, Francisco, please - and then it’s no longer just rubbing against each other, it’s Frankie actually fucking you against that wall, right through your clothes, neither of you breaking the kiss until you both come just like this. Right in your pants, not even having put a hand on each other’s dick, just pressed so closely together while you’re drowning in the taste of his mouth.

“Hey, assholes. You ready to go?”

Juan’s loud voice booms through the alley, and Frankie immediately lets go of you like he’s been burned by fire. He moves several steps away, nearly tripping over his own feet, and the fear in his eyes is as loud as the fear beating inside of your rib cage.

You drop down to one knee and tug at the laces of your sneakers, pretending you’re tying them, giving you just a few more seconds to catch your breath before you need to look Juan in the face, who seems completely oblivious about what he almost walked in on.

“Shithead. Took you long enough to keep us waiting.”

You’re both eighteen when someone catches the two of you. Your hands and mouth on Francisco in places they shouldn’t be, and his hands and mouth all over you. The fact that you’re both still fully clothed is probably the only thing that saves you from a much worse treatment.

You beg them not to hurt him, tell them to give you the beating twice, even swearing that you were the one forcing yourself on Francisco.

Somehow you manage to convince them, and it’s the comfort of knowing Frankie isn’t hurt that helps just a little against the abuse. Against the ringing in your ear which lasts for almost a week, the bruises on your ribs where they kicked you. You let it happen, know that it would be better if you didn’t fight back even though you could probably take out at least three of them. It would be one thing if it were just some guys bothering you - but a few of them are part of the leadership, and there’s no going around that.

You see the anger and helplessness in Frankie’s eyes, the way he balls his fists and looks like he’s ready any moment to tackle the guys. But you know there’s no point in letting him get in between them and you, because you know better than to show any sign of weakness.

It is only once the tallest and older guy grabs you by your jaw, his other hand undoing his dirty pants, that you fight back. In less time than it takes him to growl “let’s see how good you suck my dick”, you kick out another guy’s legs from under him and swipe his knife, knocking your assailant down in the same move.

“You want me on your dick?”, you yell as you grab him by his balls, jerking his pants down roughly so his dick and balls flop out. Your knife is against the base of his cock before he can even blink, and you stare him down, pressing the razor sharp blade against his skin and not caring if it draws blood. “Dare me,” you hiss at him as you spit into his face. “I’ll fuckin’ cut it off you right now.”

The other men jump you before you can slice into the man’s sweaty pale skin, just a hair away from cutting off his pathetic excuse for a dick and shoving it into his mouth to choke on. Frankie meanwhile has had enough, now launching himself at the biggest men who are holding you back - and if these were any normal circumstances, you’d welcome the help. Instead you just shake your head, begging for him to see that you’re dead serious about not wanting him to interfere.

“No,” you mouth wordlessly, then gasp out loud as you bite your lip until you taste blood, working hard to swallow your cries as someone pulls your arm behind you and breaks at least two of your fingers. There’s no way you’ll give them the satisfaction of hearing you cry, so you just stare at Frankie until you trust your voice to not crack. “Fish, get out. Go back. I’ll be-...”

“Fuckin’ fag.”

Someone’s steel toe boot lands in your stomach, startling you with the hit of pain, and this time you yell at Frankie as they drag you away - that it will be okay, that he has to lay low and look after himself. The same way Joel had yelled at you when they had ripped you from your home and thrown you in the back of a van.

“You need to be smarter.”

The voice is suddenly so close that it makes you wince. Especially after having been locked up in silence and darkness for two days, without anyone coming to let you out or even say a word to you. “Please, just stop, okay?”, you manage as you get up to your feet, leaning against the cement wall as your head won’t stop spinning. “I haven’t done anything since. Can you…”

“They feed you?”

You stare at the man who interrupted you, trying to focus on the vague outline of his body as you can see - no, feel - him move closer through the darkened cell. “What? Who are…”

“Esdras-... Ezra. I asked you something, boy.”

“No. They didn’t.” You raise your chin up in defiance, even if he can probably not even see it. “I’m fine.”

The stranger hums, pushing some food into your hand. “You need to stay strong. Get stronger, and smarter.”

You can’t help but shove it right into your mouth, and by the time you’ve swallowed all of it your stomach is already hurting. It was a stupid move, and you usually know better; small, slow bites are the best way to eat after having gone without for a while. But the hunger and loneliness had gnawed at you these past two days, making it hard to think straight.

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You’re locked up for a week, but Ezra keeps showing up daily with food. With conversation, too, even if it’s mostly him talking. It remains unclear how he fits into the organization you’ve been with for years now. When he mentions ‘El Gran Señor’, you suddenly remember Lorenzano, the fires at the house, your father as a fading face in the crowd.

After they took you away, your father never showed up anywhere again for you. Not in your dreams either. You wonder if it’s because you failed him, because you didn’t fight well enough - even though Joel told you not to fight, keep yourself safe. Maybe if you’d been more like Jay, this wouldn’t have happened.

You only get a decent look at Esdras’ face once.

His eyes remind you of Francisco.

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Once you’re finally released and sent back to the barracks, it takes just a few hours for you and Frankie to sneak off somewhere. When he kisses you, both of you pretend to not notice the tears that are flooding your eyes.

Out of that cell, his warm body under yours, it really sinks in what you’ve known deep inside already for months, despite knowing the risks and consequences.

There’s no way you can ever give this up. Give him up. Not even if they try to beat it out of you.

When Ezra shows up one night, standing at the back of the communal dining area, Frankie tenses up in the seat next to you. He nudges your leg with his foot as he continues eating, then draws your attention to the other side of the room with a barely noticeable flick of his index finger.

Even when you tell him this is the guy who gave you food when you were locked up, he won’t take his eyes off Ezra. Frankie has always been taller than you, broader, and when Ezra passes your table you can tell by the way he sizes him up that Frankie has already considered at least three ways to take him out.

“Santiago. Tell your guard dog to stand down.”

Slowly you close your fist around the fork you’re holding, your anger right under the surface, but the smirk tugging at Ezra’s lips makes it clear that his words were a test rather than a challenge.

“I can train you. An hour every night. You’re good - but I can make you great.” Ezra nods at Frankie without taking his eyes off you. “If anyone besides him finds out, we’re done and they’ll probably take you away.”

“And do what?” Francisco is still staring at Ezra, and you’re sure he’s figured out at least one more way by now to take him out.

“Kill me,” you say, with zero doubt about that outcome, at the exact moment Ezra also says, “Kill him”.

Frankie’s eyes narrow immediately, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tries to control himself. “What if he says no?”

“He won’t,” Ezra replies simply, at the same moment that you nod and tell him you’re in.

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Ezra is a study in contrasts. He speaks like someone from Francisco’s books, with a slight accent that makes him stand out as much as his blond patch does, and often more candidly than most people are expecting. It’s only much later, when you hear him speak to an American guy, that you realize he’s likely not from Colombia.

“The origin of my story is fairly irrelevant, Santiago.” He waves off your question when you ask him about himself. “Besides, people are never quite so hard pressed to go find Parson on a map.”

He’s worked for Lorenzano for many years now, initially a mercenary who became one of the people highest up in the system. The nickname most people use for him is The Judge, or, if you are to believe the most wild stories about it, La Venganza - The One Who Brings Retribution.

Lorenzano and Tovar primarily run the organization, neither of them shy about the opulence and violence around them. But Ezra is a third pillar whose sober green-brown clothing often makes him blend in anywhere. Anything but quiet, but focused on other things than his two partners. He’s not keen on having a public face as he prefers to move quietly, getting both the impossible and the unspeakable done.

Most people fear him and it doesn’t take you long to figure out why. The man moves and fights like a killer, striking without hesitation, and you can’t help but wonder if he has had military training. He was right about what he had told you at the start - he did make you better and stronger, in physical combat as well as verbal expressiveness.

Frankie notices it too, even only a few weeks in. “When you get back here, you always look like you’ve been fed,” he remarks one night as you sit on the rooftop with him, gazing out over the thousands of city lights sparkling in the dark sky. “He said yet what he wants in return for all the teachings?”

You shake your head. “I’m sure that’ll come later.” And see, that’s something you still haven’t learned in all those years. It’s hard to look ahead when you don’t know what to expect and don’t have something specific to look forward to.

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You’re still eighteen - or so you think, because it has become impossible to keep track of the days - when you realize that you actually love Francisco.

As you slice the throat of the guy who tries to attack him, you know that you would do anything for him. It doesn’t matter that it takes you hours that night to wash your blood soaked clothes.

Your mother was right all those years ago. Blood stains are hard to get out of fabric.

Once killing becomes a regular thing of your work for the syndicate, so do the nightmares. It’s not like you didn’t have them before; they’ve always been there, ever since Lorenzano’s men took you away from home. But this time you keep seeing the faces of the men you’ve killed; sometimes one by one, other times all of them together in a room.

They keep coming back, unwilling to let you rest.

Sometimes they try to speak to you, other times they can’t. Occasionally you need to kill them again, but their screams get drowned out by Frankie yelling for him - but you can never find him, see him.

You see your brother Joel every night that you dream of the people who died by your hand.

Half of him looks normal, even though he’s older now: a man instead of a boy, still several years ahead of you in age, and you wonder if this is really what he looks like now. The other half of his body he keeps out of your sight if he can help it, turned towards corpses or soon to be dead bodies that are bleeding out.

You know he tries to not show you that side of him because it scared you the first time; it was still Joel, but mostly just bones and muscles and tendons, someone who stands half in the world around you and half in the underworld. Worse than a ghost. But still Joel.

Every time you see him, he tells you to keep yourself safe. “It’s not your fault.” But unlike when you were little, he doesn’t try to tell you that you’re fine. You both know that you aren’t.

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Others also notice how good you’ve become over the past year. How training exercises are a breeze for you, how much faster you are at tactical planning than most others. Now you’re eighteen, both you and Frankie are being watched carefully to see if you have potential to move up in the ranks - something Ezra had already mentioned and prepared you for.

“Beat them at their own game, little beast. You’re smarter than almost any of them.”

At first you hate the nickname, because it feels like he is mocking you. But that was not Ezra’s style; he is always upfront and open, at times to a fault. Too many years in this place have made you hyper vigilant and protective, quick to attack with bared teeth and intention to take the other person down. But around him that’s not necessary. So you reluctantly accept the nickname, work to do justice to it.

Once they start sending you off on serious engagements, you find that Ezra tends to be in charge of many of them - the raids, the more undercover missions, occasionally dealing with conflict among stakeholders rather than just being there to clean up a mess. It’s not surprising that you and Frankie work well together in the field whenever you’re teamed up; you both know each other so well, including limits and strength, to the point that you can easily anticipate each other’s moves, and that puts you front and center for effectiveness.

On the rare occasion the two of you are split up in different teams, Ezra is always assigned to Frankie’s group - something none of you comments on. They’re not exactly on friendly terms with each other, particularly to Frankie always being cautious, but then again they don’t need to be. The mutual respect is reassuring, especially because you’re sure Ezra knows there’s more going on between you and Frankie than the syndicate allows for.

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The next time you dream of Joel, there’s a black wolf cub playing at his feet, gentle and even tempered, playfully nipping at Joel’s fingers. When he sees you, he immediately bounces over to smell you, then happily paws at your legs - just like he’s just any other stray puppy, excited to get your attention and become familiar with your scent. His joy is contagious, and it’s not long until you’re sitting down on the ground to play with him, where eventually he falls asleep in your lap.

When something in the darkness catches your eye, the pup stirs almost immediately from his sleep, picking up on your body language. In the blink of an eye he’s put himself in front of you and Joel, suspiciously eyeing the wisps of smoke that curl from the darkness. He growls low, baring his small fangs as he tries to make himself bigger than he is to face the unknown.

Joel hushes it gently, assuringly. “Little Beast, you’re okay.” When both you and the cub simultaneously look at him, you wonder which one of you two he is talking to.

Even if the days have become more bearable and lighter since you met Francisco, you still don’t think you’re the one who is okay - and sometimes you wonder if you ever will be again.

Ezra fights dirty.

Knives, guns, hand-to-hand combat; he always has an extra card up his sleeve somehow. But it’s not the moves or weapon mastery you learn from him that make you better and faster.

It’s the resilience he teaches you. Clearing your mind, striking without hesitation. Thinking ten steps ahead and not giving away what your next move is. You’ve seen him out on the streets or during raids, and unlike Lorenzano and Tovar he tends to hang back, take a moment to take in the scene. While they go in guns blazing, often blasting an actual path through people to get what they want, Ezra is more deliberate. If he can take out just a single target to get the job done, he’ll opt for that - he knows that other syndicate members will deal with the rest of a DEA team, guerilla fighters or a competing cartel.

He’s also one of the few in leadership who makes calculated decisions regarding the location that he will take out a target. You’ve seen Gilberto kill more than a few sicarios by simply showing up at their houses - no regard for any wives, children or elderly people who either get into the crossfire or are witness to it. But Ezra will always opt for a much cleaner kill; out in the street, in a bar or at a roadstop when it’s least expected. If it didn’t all come down to the same thing - killing people and moving coke or arms -, you would almost call it more ethical.

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One night, you hear the pup whining before you see it - a low, unhappy sound that chills your blood. It takes too long to find him in the darkness, and you’re tripping over things in front of you, something telling you it’s probably for the best that you can’t quite see what or who they are.

You finally find the pup when his eyes open and look right at you, the golden pupils and white of his eyes a stark contrast to the darkness around you. As you kneel down to examine him, you see the golden cords wrapped around his fur, and a wave of terror washes over you. He didn’t just get tangled up in them; somebody deliberately put those bindings on him.

You hush him softly as your fingers slide over the cords, trying to find any knots or weak spots where you can start prying them off him. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll get you out of this.” But as you do so, the wolf starts wriggling around, his sharp teeth snapping at the cords around until they all break and disappear into the darkness, along with the rest of your dream.

“I’m moving to Cali in a few weeks.”

Ezra offers you a cigarette, and you take it from him, your head working overtime as you digest the news dropped on you. “Shit. Alone?”

He shakes his head, sharing his lighter with you as he brings his own cigarette to his lips. “There are some relocations happening in the structure of - well. You’ve seen it out here,” he gestures at the city you’re overlooking from the hill you’re standing on. “The Army is withdrawing support from ACCU. Some new government people are acting surprised about the Field Workers Self-Defenders ties with the Castaños, which is bullshit. But dynamics are changing in Córdoba and Urabá, which also affects Cali.”

“Does that mean-...”

“Do you want to come along, Santiago?” Ezra blows out the smoke before he looks at you. “You can stay here, of course. Nothing much should change aside from my… influence.” You both know that means Lorenzano will make the decisions, and that without Ezra’s influence, life becomes a lot more unpredictable in the syndicate. “But Cali will give both of you the opportunity to move up. Be in charge of operations, eventually.”

You don’t miss the casual reference of ‘both’ that he uses, and you feel relieved that you don’t have to ask the question out loud - if Frankie would be able to join you, too. Part of you wants to say no, because leaving Bogota would also mean leaving behind the scraps of life you remember before the syndicate kidnapped you that night and roped you into their organization.

“Think about it,” Ezra interrupts your thoughts before you can respond. “Your choice to make, your consequences to bear. I know you never asked for all of this - neither of you did, of course. But owning your choices and what results from them makes all the difference.”

When you ask Frankie later that night, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. “I’m in.”

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The move to Cali is uneventful in a good way, and the new living space is both brighter and larger than Bogota. Some things don’t change though: there are still about ten of you per sleeping quarters, but at least the beds are better and the facilities aren’t as old.

It surprises you how it feels a little easier to breathe. You hadn’t expected it, but there’s a relief in just seeing the city as it is - not thinking about who had died on that corner, which house is a drop off spot or a brothel, or where you’d gotten beaten up. Even when you know it won’t last long.

The warmer weather means longer evenings outside, too. New spots that you and Frankie discover, where there’s just enough privacy to be together for a few minutes. You kiss him in new alleyways, let him press you against the wall behind a quiet church. Let your hands roam and grab when you’re on the rooftop and you’re sure that nobody is around.

It’s never enough, and the waiting in between opportunities is torturous. Sometimes it takes weeks until you can take him in your mouth again, have him slide inside of you, or when you can fuck him - rushed and hard and frantic -, leaving marks that were made within minutes but that last for days as dark bruises on your hips and shoulders and thighs.

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Your nightmares remain the same in Cali as they were in Bogota. A constant every single night, at times in different settings than before, matching the buildings and streets of this new city.

You dread all of them, but Joel’s presence in those dreams makes it manageable. Even when he’s not around, the wolf cub is always there with you. Protective and affectionate, at times bigger than you - but never intimidating.

Part of you wants to tell Frankie about your dreams. Not just about the cub, but Joel too. You just don’t know where you’d even begin to explain it without sounding insane.

Ezra gives you more space those first couple of weeks in Cali, training only every other day with you, then informs you that you and Frankie will be joining him on an assignment out of town. You’ve done this before and know that lodging is always together with leadership in the same room. Except this time that seems to be different.

“It appears there has been a miscommunication. They didn’t have any rooms with two beds, only singles,” he informs you, his face uncharacteristically neutral as he hands you a room key. “You two are across the hallway from me and will have to share a bed.”

Your jaw nearly drops as you stare at him, and you can feel the disbelief radiating from Frankie, too. But Ezra pretends to not notice it as he turns away. “I trust there will be no disappearing, Little Beast. You know the fatal consequences of that.”

The room is shitty, there are only three channels that work on the tv, and there’s a concerning smell coming from the toilet if you don’t close the lid completely. The bed is a full size though instead of a twin, creaks every time you move, and has some threadbare sheets and two thin pillows.

It’s perfect.

It has never happened before that you and Francisco had more than half an hour of privacy to yourself in a locked room - let alone nine hours in one that also has a bed.

You fuck so, so very much that night.

It’s deliriously intoxicating, having each other in every possible way you can imagine - and a few more ways you hadn’t even considered before. By the time it’s 5:30 am, neither of you can move anymore. Sore, exhausted and beyond spent you fall asleep, curled up against each other.

For the first time in eight years you don’t have any dreams, let alone nightmares.

The newness of Cali lasts about three months. By then, the city has gained the same marks and blood all over it that you had left behind in Bogota; the drugs, fights, but this time there are also bombs.

It’s a lot more damage than you’re used to, the number of victims making your stomach turn when the news reports on it later those nights. Some of the other guys are thrilled when they see the result of their work on tv, bragging about it, but it sickens you every single time.

It’s bad for you, but it hits Frankie even harder. He has lost family and friends in the past because of bomb attacks, and you know that when he wakes up at night screaming, it often tends to be exactly that which replays in his mind.

You’re both used to helping each other through hard times, but you see his eyes become more distant as the weeks pass. You do what you can, from stupid jokes to trying to find him new books, but you can’t help but feel it’s your fault.

Maybe he wouldn’t be in such bad shape if you two had stayed in Bogota.

Maybe you did this all wrong.

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Frankie is fast. Really fucking fast.

Not when it comes to running, although he does well if needed. But it’s when you see him behind the wheel of a truck, with Ezra, you and a handful of other guys, that you realize just how good he is. Driving a getaway car, chasing down another truck through the city, diversion techniques. You don’t know where he even learned them, because it’s not that often that any of you get to drive.

It’s Ezra who decides that this is going to be a regular thing for Frankie. “I want you as our transportation guy next time we venture out on an endeavor,” he says, eyes sharp as he observes Frankie switch gears, avoid a child who runs out into the road, then rev the engine to catch up with the other vehicle in your party. “Are you interested in cars?”

Frankie just nods affirmatively, his eyes locked on the terrain in front of him. You can’t help but chime in, also realizing this could mean that the two of you won’t be assigned to different teams anymore. “His uncle had a garage, so he grew up in it. Learned how to work on cars before he was eight,” you offer.

It earns you a warning look by Frankie, who is clearly not thrilled about you offering that information - but you know it only helps his case. Ezra only asks things for a reason, and you know it would not be to fuck Frankie over. “He really knows his shit.”

“Good. That will get you far.” Ezra pulls out two guns, checking the ammo, then suddenly looks at Frankie like he just got a bright idea. “Francisco. Did you ever fly a helicopter before?”

This time Frankie actually takes his eyes off the road, and you can tell by the twitch in his jaw that he’s very hard trying to not show his enthusiasm. You know him well though, and his eyes suddenly look more radiant than you’ve seen in a long time.

“Not yet. But I bet I can with some training.”

The first time they put you in charge of a raid, you end up puking behind a bush once everything is over. More than just a few bodies are scattered across the property that’s about to be set on fire, and that’s not new - but being the leader of a raid hits so much harder than any time you had to merely participate. The only relief you have is that you don’t need to deal directly with the losses, or gather the money and drugs.

When one of your men calls you over, he points his rifle at the three kids huddled against each other on the back porch, and you can only get yourself to look right at them once you feel Francisco’s hand on your back.

“Not worth the trouble,” you inform the guy who called you over, ignoring the way your stomach turns, and you turn back to the children once he has left. A six year old girl is the oldest of the kids, her eyes blank as she holds a baby in her lap and a four year old boy pressed against her side. Something about that look in her eyes reminds you of Joel - not the brother you grew up with, but the one in your dreams with that side he tries to show you as little as possible.

“Are they dead?”, she asks you, still not showing any emotion despite the crying boys clinging onto her, and you nod. Whether it’s her parents or someone else she’s referring to, none of the adults in the raided house are still alive.

She nods back at you, no sign of surprise on her face. “Please don’t hurt the boys,” she then says, sounding so much older than her age. “They didn’t–...”

“We won’t.”

You breathe in deeply when Francisco speaks for you, then reach for the wad of money that you had put into your pocket a few minutes earlier. Stealing from El Gran Senor always ended badly, but these raids were the only options you had to get your hands on anything of value.

The girl flinches when you reach for her, and once again it’s Frankie who reassures her. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Do you know how to get to the village?”, you ask her as you put the money in her hand. She nods, and for a moment you could swear that you see a wolf cub staring at you from the trees. “Find someone to help you. Don’t show them the money.” You bite back the words of apology that are on your tongue, knowing that they won’t help or would even be believed. “You can do it. Be brave.”

“We have to go.” Francisco’s voice is tight but decisive, and you nod as you let him tug you along, back to the men who have loaded up their cars with all the valuables they could gather. Drugs, money, guns.

Like the next raid will be. And the next. And the next.

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“You exceeded expectations, little beast. A mission well planned and executed. Congratulations are in order.” The look on Ezra’s face is one of pride as you debrief him. As he scribbles down some more notes to wrap up his report, you hesitate for a moment, considering one last thing.

“There were three kids.”

Ezra’s eyes flick up at you much faster than you expect, but then he shakes his head. “It appears that you are mistaken about this,” he says as he resolutely puts away his paper and pen.

“I saw them. I…”

“You’re exhausted.” Ezra’s voice cut you off sharply, the tension in his jaw suddenly clear and reminding you of Frankie. “I appreciate you doing the debrief at this late hour, but you should probably rest. There’s nothing more I need for the final report.”

You know when to take a hint; know that the walls have ears, too, so you take the dismissal in stride. The walk back to the barracks is short, and most of the other guys are already fast asleep as you get in.

Francisco’s bed is only a few feet away from yours, one of about a dozen in the room. The moonlight offers just a small stream of light into the room, and as you start to take your clothes off, you can feel Frankie’s eyes on you. You’re both showered and cleaned up hours earlier, but somehow you still feel the smoke in your lungs and ashes on your skin, like some kind of phantom feeling.

Frankie watches you quietly as you strip down to your underwear. He knows that you’re aware of him looking at you, and you swallow hard when you see him shift under the blanket - see his hand move down to touch himself.

There’s no privacy here - there never is, maybe even less so than there was in Bogota. But at least there’s this, knowing your bed is just a few feet away from his. Being able to see glimpses of him in the moonlight. His hand moving further down, still under that blanket, and when his eyes close momentarily you know he’s got his hand on his cock.

You get into bed and pull the sheets up over yourself, laying on your side so you can still see Frankie. When his eyes flutter open again, you slip your hand into your underwear to touch yourself too, and you see his eyes flick over your body as he realizes you’re joining him.

It’s hard to control your breathing, especially when it’s so quiet at night, but you’re both experts at this by now. Hungry eyes focused on eachother in the mostly dark sleeping quarters. You pretending your fingers are his - him pretending his fingers are yours. It’s not much, but it’s something; anything to make you feel alive during nights like these.

Frankie is in your dream.

And Joel is looking at him.

Right at him - both Joel’s living half as well as the one that is in decay. It chills you in a way that’s so startling that the fear grabs you by your throat out of nowhere.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Frankie isn’t supposed to be in any of your dreams that are also occupied by Joel. It happens all the time that you hear Frankie scream in your dreams, but it is always separate from where you are - like he’s in a different space and the sound just happens to carry.

Not now. At least he’s not screaming, but he and Joel are looking at each other from a distance, before Frankie’s glance meets yours. Full of questions.

You try to keep your voice calm, but you hear the trembling when you speak. “Don’t take him from me.”

You don’t know how you would do it; prevent Joel from taking Frankie with him the way he does with the other people, the other bodies. All you know is that it can’t happen.

“I never would.” Joel shakes his head. “Besides, he’s a warrior. And she wouldn’t allow me to. She’s the one who owns his head.”

“What does that even mean?”, you ask, suddenly noticing the woman behind Frankie. She’s taller than he is, dressed in a style that seems very out of place, not in the least because of the brown fur that’s a prominent part of the outfit. But something is familiar about her.

When she puts her hand on Frankie’s shoulder, he glances at it for a second before he brings his eyes back to you.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Joel says, and you shiver from the cold wind that blows past you.

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By the third raid you lead, you understand why Ezra assigns you to these missions. You’re good at planning, leading your team, getting the work done, taking down the people that need to be eliminated - but you’re pretty sure that it’s really about the children.

There never is any mention of them in the information you get beforehand; those reports are only about the adults, the snitches, dealers who don’t hold up their end of the deal, or the sicarios who have taken wrong steps. And you’ve seen what happens at other raids. Many of the others won’t hesitate to shoot a child, use them as collateral, and you don’t doubt that there are situations that end even worse than those two options.

You quickly develop the habit to let the others chase the targets while you - and most often Frankie too - will explore the premises to find any children. In some cases, they’re barely teenagers, the fear in their eyes clear enough to indicate that they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other times, they’re infants, toddlers, held close by siblings who are barely older than them.

Getting them out becomes a priority for you, particularly when after every mission you see Ezra’s relief when you make a subtle remark about any kids. There’s a lot he can’t say out loud, not just because of his position in the syndicate, but also because wiretaps have become frequent these days. So you keep it very brief, often will only mention it when the two of you are alone - a quick update on what happened to the kids.

“She was brought to her older sister.”

“They ended up at the neighbor's house.”

“Someone knows where her other relatives live.”

You always swipe money from raids when given the chance, stashing it away in an air vent in your sleeping quarters that only you and Frankie know about. But as the raids occur more often, each leaving behind an even bigger impact than the one prior, you start to put most of the money in the children’s pockets before whisking them off to safety.

It never stops feeling like you’re trying to fix a broken dam with a band-aid, but it feels like the best possible option. Especially when you think back of how you landed in this position, and how you’d been taken away from your home. In an ideal world, you could decide to defect – find a way out for you and Frankie, take the money and run. But throughout the years you’ve seen that almost every single person who attempts to get out of this world will end up dead; not just murdered, but tortured first, before it’s all inflicted on the people closest to them, too.

So you run the raids. Find a way to get the kids out. Have nightmares - then repeat. And repeat. And repeat some more.

The problem is that you’ve gotten really good at this.

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The next time you see the tall woman covered in furs, you’re not dreaming.

It’s the middle of a raid, and you and Frankie are chasing down a guy who is trying to escape from the rooftop. He jumps over to the next building, and Frankie is about to leap the same distance between the roofs, when you suddenly see that woman right next to him.

Calmly she puts her hand on his shoulder and Frankie stops abruptly, turning around to look behind him with a bewildered expression. “Santi, we-...”

A terrible scream sounds from the other roof, and when you look over, you see your target scrambling to hold onto something, while the roof shingles under his feet are slipping away. With a loud noise, the foundation of the roof falls apart, yanking the man’s body down with brute violence and you hear him scream more until a loud bang silences him.

“Fuck,” Frankie croaks, staring at the destruction, and you grab his untouched shoulder tightly, needing to feel him under your hands, that he’s really still here by the grace of not having made that same jump as the man did. “I think he’s impaled.”

The tall woman on his other side looks right at you, then nods as she steps away, disappearing into thin air in that same move.

These days, when Tovar and Lorenzano make a stop in Cali, it happens more often than not that one or both of them will talk to you; an extremely rare occurrence for somebody in your position.

Sometimes they’re there for a debriefing with Ezra, other times one of them will remark that bigger things are waiting for you in the near future. Trying to find a balance between doing the work that’s expected from you and keeping your head straight has become increasingly difficult, and you’re not the only one struggling with it.

Francisco oscillates between extremes most of the time. As a co-pilot, he’s mastered skills that very few in the syndicate actually have to offer, not to mention his skills when it comes to engineering and fixing up vehicles. Flying clears his head, grounds him in his body in the best possible way it seems. But once he’s back on the ground, especially when they need to go on raids and he’s dealing with anything but transportation, you often see him shut down and try to dissociate, something that’s hard to bring him back from. It gets even worse during moments when he decides to partake in the cocaine that’s always easily available.

A year later, you still haven’t figured out a way to get the two of you away from all of this. The money in your stash isn’t enough, and you know Lorenzano has men everywhere across the country - there was no way to make it anywhere without being shot in the head sooner or later. So you work. You learn from Ezra. You take the praise. And the nightmares - during the nights and during the days - keep getting worse.

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Leaving Cali happens in a rush, with none of you expecting it - including Ezra. ‘Reassignment to a rural area’ is the official message, which in practice means a camp right in the middle of the jungle.

“We’re here to take out those fuckin’ communist guerillas,” was the more extended explanation that everybody who relocated from Cali to officially join ACCU. Also known as ‘Peasant Self-Defenders of Córdoba and Urabá’, the group had been founded by the Castaño brothers after their father was kidnapped and killed, in retaliation to the left-wing Marxist guerillas. ACCU was knee deep into the drug trade, and, as you had discovered years earlier, a lot of people fighting for them got here the same way you and Frankie had.

FARC, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia known as the guerillas, stood out because they did employ tactics like kidnapping, but weren’t involved in the drug trade. Instead they fought for ‘social justice and the rights of the poor’, which in practice meant a whole lot of enemies.

“These aren’t the usual raids,” Ezra told you in the first couple of days on the ground, as he’d been filling you, Frankie and the others in on the different stations, people in charge, and what to expect. “This is a lot of combat, sometimes involving hostages.”

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‘A lot of combat’ is an understatement, as you and Frankie find out right from the start. The amount of assault rifles was overwhelming, as were the number of casualties per week. No more flights for Frankie for the time being, now mostly driving trucks of various sizes. What perhaps is the worst of it all is the complete and utter lack of privacy, even by the low expectations you already had.

With all the communal areas even more exposed than in Cali, there barely was any opportunity to sneak off. Here, finding a good hiding spot meant doing so in the jungle, risking death, because the odds were too high that you’d run into FARC members.

At times there were reports coming in from the major cities. Whispers about a pact between the DEA and some narcos, competing cartels. American reports on what was happening in Colombia, which often had barely anything to do with what was really going on. Rumors about the commies having grown massively in numbers. Everything is urgent, all the time, but now with a constant threat of being hit severely worse than would be the case in the city.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Frankie should’ve stayed in Bogota all along.

The second time you dream of the wolf cub in bindings, you immediately notice something is wrong - even before it cries out for you. This time they look like proper chains, the metal scraping against the cub’s fur and skin, and your first thought is that these are going to be much harder to remove than the first ones.

They’re also not merely restraining the wolf; this time it has properly been captured, the chains secured to a palm tree like the ones you see every single day around you. The pup howls, clearly more agitated this time, and you hush it gently, petting his fur while examining the restraints. “What keeps happening here, buddy?”

“Trusting the wrong people has consequences.”

You look up when you think you hear Joel’s voice from nearby, except it’s not him - but your father leaning against another palm tree, his face solemn as he looks back at you.

Your FATHER?

The wolf cub growls, and this time it’s not the usual angry growl of caution that he tends to make — it’s more like a snarl, layers of rage and destruction underneath. It yanks hard at the chain that has him tethered to the tree, sharp teeth biting at it until the chain breaks, and before you can do anything, it bolts over to where your father is standing, leaping up to attack him viciously.

You wake up screaming so loudly that you wake up all the others in the sleeping quarters, only calming down somewhat once Frankie physically shakes you out of it.

Going back to sleep turns out to be impossible, and it’s only after you try to skip sleep for the next two nights that your body finally caves in, knocking you out into a deep sleep, while you’re exhausted and scared of the dreams that might come back to you.

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Choices have never been an option with the syndicate. Either you do what you’re being told, or chances are that someone puts a bullet into you. That’s how you find yourself leading a team that is much bigger than you’re used to, not to mention with more challenging missions than you’ve done before.

Running drugs or arms in a city is pretty easy - even collecting it by force, or dealing with money. When raiding a building, there’s always a clear plan beforehand: assign people to specific spots, have a backup plan, keep the escape routes in mind, and make sure there’s enough ammunition.

Taking over a small FARC outpost is an entirely different thing. The unpredictability of the jungle, poorer communication methods, and with sightlines often being blocked, it’s not all that straightforward to take out a group of guerillas.

If it hadn’t been for Ezra’s training over the past years, you wouldn’t know where to start. But as always, you adjust - particularly with Frankie by your sight. The outpost gets conquered, another group of armed fighters elsewhere is taken down. But the guilt you were sort of able to remedy in Bogota and Cali, by helping to get some of the kids out, gnaws at you constantly here in the jungle. When twelve year olds are as heavily armed as you are, and even more eager to put a bullet in between your eyes, there’s not much of a chance to find some redemption.

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Just because Ezra is a good killer doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it, you’ve noticed. You can see it eating away at him, just as it does with you. He still talks plenty to you about everything, but you can tell the isolation out here in the jungle is getting to him as well.

“I did a lot of work as a freelancer, Little Beast,” he replies when you ask him one day while you’re training with him. “I’m a floater, and some might say a merch, but I’m not merely a hit man. To be completely candid, this situation out here has… proven to disappoint.”

You want to ask him if he’s ever thought about getting out, but you don’t dare to - not with the lack of privacy around you. It’s not like you expect him to just offer you a way out; you know it’s not that simple, but throughout the years you’ve considered every possible option. Being here in the jungle has led you to consider defecting and joining FARC’s side, but you’re not naive enough to believe that will be a solution in the long run.

The one thing you’ve been able to keep secret out here is the money you’ve saved throughout the years. You carry it on you most days, as there is no proper hiding spot out here, carefully folded into a small pocket bible as that’s the one thing that won’t get searched during inspection.

Sometimes you try to remember the prayers your mother would say as she’d ask for help and protection. Even when you’re pretty sure none of her saints would listen to you, after everything you’ve done.

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Something snaps inside of you when you find Frankie doing coke.

He swears it’s not a common thing, that it has only happened ‘two or three times’, that one of the guys - that bastard David - just offered it to him to be able to make it through a mission he was dreading. You know Frankie has been struggling, has just as many nightmares as you do, and the complete lack of privacy here is making it so much harder to find moments to sneak away and find a moment of peace together. But you also know it always ends very badly when anyone starts doing coke to be able to make it through the days.

The next day it’s hard to control your anger - not at Francisco, but at everything regarding ACCU. You make him stay back in the camp, despite his protesting, leading your team on an afternoon attack, and the blind rage that takes hold of you in the heat of the battle is all consuming. It takes less time than expected to carry out the siege with your team, with more casualties due to wrongly estimating how many rebels you were attacking, and just when you shoot their leader you suddenly realize David is on your left, fighting someone else.

Fucking David who gave Francisco that coke.

You aim your gun without even thinking twice and shoot him straight through the head.

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Tovar is not amused when he finds out David didn’t make it. “He was one of our best. What the fuck happened?”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t have eyes on him.” You calmly look at him, giving him an opportunity to respond, and you know that you’re too good of a liar to give anything away. When he doesn’t say anything, you continue with the rest of your briefing. News spreads fast through the camp, and by the time you catch up with Frankie that evening, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows. Of course he does. He’s the only one you’ve never been able to lie to.

Ezra also doesn’t ask you what happened.

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When you were younger, running around with Joel and Jay in the neighborhood, your grandmother would always be the one to tell you boys to get home before dark. “It’s not that I don’t trust you - I don’t trust others to not get you into trouble,” she’d say.

You trust Frankie when he told you he wouldn’t take coke again. But now, you understand what your grandmother meant.

David’s buddy Arturo is the next person who offers some coke to Francisco, clearly hoping to make a deal. When Frankie turns it down, he keeps pushing, then eventually tries to persuade you.

You give it six days. Then, when you’re out in the field, you send him into a situation that you know is going to get him killed. He gets ambushed by two kids who take him out with their knives. Even though you could’ve taken down both of them with your rifle, you don’t shoot, and you see the relief in their eyes as they run away.

Arturo is still breathing when you check on him, but your own knife quickly deals with that before anyone else finds him.

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This time when you dream, you don’t see the wolf cub in chains. It’s you who is tied up, and after struggling in disoriented panic, you realize that you are the wolf. Thick dark fur where there should be your arms and legs, claws instead of your fingers, but the overwhelming feeling are the bindings wrapped around all of your limbs and the rest of your body - so thin that you can barely see the golden shimmer, but so sharp that it feels like it’s made from razors, pressing into your skin.

You can’t scream - or howl -, you can’t even move. And all you see in front of you are Lorenzano and Tovar, each heavily armed, dragging your human body along with them up a mountain, leaving a trail of blood on the rocks.

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“I want them all DEAD.” Tovar nearly spits the words out at the group of you, banging his hand on the table with the map that has several FARC camps drawn onto it. “All of them. I don’t know how the fuck they got their hands on the product, but if it doesn’t all come back here…”

He’s terrifying like this, especially because you know he won’t hesitate to act on his threats. Somehow FARC had gotten a hold of internal intel, it seemed, not only being able to avoid being attacked for almost a week now but also having confiscated a massive amount of Lorenzano’s cocaine that was being packed and processed at a nearby facility.

The first two missions that week are done from the sky, and unsurprisingly Frankie is the co-pilot. You have a select team that goes up in the air with you and Ezra, two of your crew each armed with a M60E4 machine gun and one person with a Mk 153 SMAW launcher. It’s not your first time running an attack with this kind of artillery from the sky, but it still makes your stomach turn to see the damage that’s inflicted, the only small relief being that at least it’s not happening up close like would be the case with a ground attack.

On the third day, it’s back to the ground with your team, and you manage to overtake a building that holds at least half of the missing cocaine. At least half of the FARC fighters that are assassinated are still practically kids, who had been repackaging the drugs in the building. You and Frankie, as always, try to focus on the adults rather than the young teens, and at the end of the day you see Ezra’s expression is similar to how you feel: not just empty, but hollowed out.

Whether it’s the exhaustion setting in or bad strategizing, you’re not sure, but on day four the mission goes awry, and your team barely manages to pull through. Tovar is with the group though and aggressively moves in on the remaining cocaine that someone finds, but seeing how a large amount of it got shot up during the attack makes him absolutely furious. Eventually, he splits the team, sending half of your crew back to your camp with the repossessed drugs, while you have to do another sweep of the premises to make sure everything got covered.

It’s when Frankie pulls open a side door that seems to have been overlooked, and you step in with your gun ready, that you stumble into her. She’s young, younger than you, bruised and bloodied, but what stands out the most is that she’s pregnant - and very far along, it seems. It’s extremely unusual to come across someone in her position, here out in the jungle, because you all know that FARC does not exactly allow any of their fighters to start a family.

You see the hysteria on her face as she realizes that she’s been discovered, know she’s about to scream and fight, so you move on instinct, putting your gun behind you as you hush her and urge her to not yell. “You’re okay, you’re okay- I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? We’re not…”

She stares at the both of you with wide eyes as she nods, and you hear Frankie curse behind you. “Fuck, Santi, no – they’re gonna fucking see her, man. This place is going to get torched in five minutes from now.”

“Please, don’t hurt my baby, I’ll do anything.” She’s sobbing, on her knees now, and you turn to face Frankie as your head is working overtime.

“But we can’t– she’s pregnant,” you say to him, and he nods sadly, his jaw clenching as you can see him think. You curse, peering outside to check if anybody is watching, then close your eyes as you say a quick prayer. Please let this work. Not for me, but for her. “You need to get to the others and tell them it’s clear,” you tell Frankie as you nod to the front of the building. “I’ll get her out of here and to the back of the premises. Just tell them… something, okay? I’ll join you soon.”

“I don’t fucking like this.” But Frankie nods and disappears back outside, while you help the girl to her feet and explain to her how you’re gonna get her out.

“You can’t make a sound. You can’t trip. If they catch us, we’re both dead, okay?”

She nods as tears are rolling down her face, then tries to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. Meanwhile you listen closely to what’s happening outside, hear Frankie’s voice louder than usual - but not exaggerated - as he’s calling out to some of the team members. There’s no time to overthink matters, so you grab the young woman’s hand as you tug her outside, making sure to keep her covered with your own body as you rush her towards the trees that are at a small distance from the building.

Your heart is thumping so loudly that you feel like everybody in the vicinity must be able to hear it - but finally you get her there, pushing her behind a palm tree as you press the handle of a small knife in her hand. “Stay out of sight until we’re gone. Not a fucking sound,” you hiss at her, and she nods again at you, tears brimming in her eyes. She mouths a silent thank you before you turn around, and you don’t look back as you rush back to the property.

Somehow you manage to make it back to the front without raising any questions. Tovar is directing some people around, distributing gasoline, and mere minutes later the whole place is on fire. You’re exhausted, and not fully aware of how you all get back to the base camp, where you do a quick briefing with Ezra, then go find your sleeping spot in the tent to pass out even though it’s still early.

You wake up by Frankie sitting down on your makeshift bed, his hand on your back briefly as he hands you a plate with food. “Told them you got hurt getting back here and needed to rest,” he says, and you’re so grateful that you could almost cry. “Good job.”

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The next two days Ezra puts you, Frankie and the team on rest, giving you the opportunity to catch up on sleep and deal with the bruises and injuries most of you have. Then there is patrol duty, and you’re separated into pairs to guard between your camp and the other ACCU location. It’s hot, as always, but the vegetation mostly offers some shade which makes it more bearable.

Once you’re at least twenty minutes away from your camp, you tug Frankie behind a large tree and kiss him, unable to go on any longer without feeling him against you. You can feel him sigh in relief as he returns your kiss, his tongue eager as he takes over your kiss and presses you against the tree trunk.

“I thought this week was gonna fuckin’ kill us,” he whispers, and you nod as you brush his curls back, twirling a few around your index finger. You want him, in each and every way, but at the same time you feel so utterly drained that you can’t even imagine doing more than kissing and letting your hands roam for now - and you can tell he feels the same way.

You stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing each other, glad to have the slightest bit of time together. The tiredness ebbs away eventually, comforted by the touch of his body against yours, and just when you start to feel his hands drift lower, you realize that you need to stop this now before it gets to the point that neither of you can dial it down anymore.

“We gotta get going,” you make yourself say, and he groans softly, not happy about it, but he lets go after giving you one more deep kiss.

The path to the other camp is mostly easy to follow as you’ve walked it so many times before, a few tree trunks in the way here and there, and eventually the scenery around you changes, going up a hill to higher ground. Francisco talks about the helicopter maintenance that’s scheduled later this week, and you’re glad that they’re keen on keeping him in that aviation position - he really is good at it and still enjoying it, a welcome change from most of the field work.

You halt when you suddenly hear a sound that isn’t common around these parts, and you look around at you try to locate the sound. “Did you hear that?”

Frankie shakes his head. “What?”

“I heard a… Almost like some kind of howling.” You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight thirty, forty - maybe fifty - feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. You blink repeatedly, for a moment wondering if you’re making things up. “You see that?”

You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight 30 or maybe 50 feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. “You see that?”

Francisco gives you a questioning look, then follows your line of sight. “No. Somebody there?”

“The wolf, Frankie.” You have a hard time taking your eyes off the animal; you’ve never before seen one in real life. Meanwhile Frankie is looking at you as if you’ve grown three heads.

“A wo-… Santi, there are no wolves in Colombia.”

“Yes there are, look.”

Frankie smacks the back of his hand against your cheek, the frown on his face growing deeper. “Oye, pendejo. There’s nothing over there. You sure you’re okay?”

“No,” you say absentmindedly as the wolf tilts his head, and for a moment you wonder if it will attack you. Then you hear it; the sound of branches breaking behind the two of you, several pairs of footsteps, and you realize the wolf is not a threat but a warning. And for some reason you can’t explain, you just know that one of the guys behind you will be Tovar.

You take a deep breath as you take one more look at Frankie, drinking in every detail of his face and presence next to you. You wish that you could kiss him one more time, but you don’t dare to risk it.

“Something is very wrong, go back and find Ezra,” you say quietly, and you see his eyes widen as he reaches for his gun, but you stop him immediately as you shake your head. “No. You can’t win this, I’m so sorry - I love you.” Then you shove him, hard, so he trips over the edge and falls down the slope of dirt and vegetation, towards where you saw the wolf moments earlier.

You turn around while you pull out your spare gun, shooting down the guy closest to you without even blinking, then aim at a second and third person. You’re determined to do as much damage as possible to give Frankie a chance to get away.

Tovar’s eyes are dark and furious when they meet yours, and within moments he has overpowered you, dragging you away from the edge of the slope as he bangs the metal of his gun against your fingers. The pain is so sharp and hard that it makes you scream, and you drop your guns involuntarily, blindly reaching for your knife.

“You son of a bitch,” he hisses at you, but your fingers close around the hilt of your knife and you sink it into his leg with all of your strength, before you get hit over the head and lose consciousness.

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When you regain consciousness again, there’s arguing, loud banging against things, and yelling happening all around you. It takes effort to focus when you open your eyes, but finally you can make out some of the faces around you. Tovar, unsurprisingly, a gun in his hand as he’s leaning against the wall. Lorenzano, also armed. And surprisingly - Ezra. On the floor, half kneeling, and with Lorenzano’s gun pressed against his head.

“You made him this way!” Lorenzano practically spat at him, looking like he’s about to have an aneurism out of rage, but Ezra merely looks at him all calm. “You… you conspired. With those faggot boys. And now you’re trying to take me-…”

Tovar cleared his throat. “Us,” he said sharply.

“Yeah, and now you’re trying to take us down,” Lorenzano continued, moving the gun from Ezra’s temple to his forehead.

“I’m afraid I must interject. I did no such thing, boss. Neither did Sant–” Ezra’s words are cut off as Lorenzano hits him hard across his face, and you wince at the sound of what possibly is a broken nose.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

Ezra takes a moment to compose himself, then shakes his head again, wincing as it seems to hurt him. “I am not a greedy man. You of all people should know that after all this time.”

“Then how did those fuckin commies get their hands on that stash?” Tovar speaks up, looking irritated. “They clearly had intel. Not to mention that ambush the other day.” He wanders over to you, and you groan as you try to sit up on the floor, but your hands are cuffed behind your back and your ankles also tied together. “And you. You let that whore escape the other day. Did you really think you could get away with that?”, he sneers. “Did you deliver Esdras’ messages to her or something?”

Your head is spinning as you’re trying to follow the conversation even though the pain is making it hard to listen and speak. “I didn’t do — I never tried anything like that,” you manage, trying to keep your eyes open. “Please. You have to believe me. Ezra never…”

Tovar grabs you by your neck, pressing his gun up against your chin. “We found your money stash,” he hisses. “Do you know how many of your comrades were eager to speak about the shit you pulled in Cali and Bogota? Letting people get away from raids while they should’ve been six feet under?”

You fight the urge to argue that it wasn’t just people, that it was mostly children and some women, because you know that’s not gonna help your case. “I’ve done as I’ve been told to do. All of my missions. Every single one of them was successful and profitable…,” you wince when you hear Tovar take the safety off the gun, and you close your eyes as you speak faster, trying to focus more on convincing him. “Ezra was just training me so I would be better working for the syndicate. That’s all, I swear. He never… we wouldn’t.”

“What about your faggot boyfriend, huh?”

“What about him, gentle man?” Ezra speaks up before you can even begin to think of an answer. “He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did, nor did I. If we had, you’d have concrete evidence, my friend.”

Tovar ignores his words, and you feel the gun barrel press even harder into your chin. “Where is he? That pilot boy.”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Clearly that’s not a good enough answer, because a moment later you’re kicked in the stomach and collapse, gasping for air. “God, I swear, I don’t…”

“Are you religious, Santiago?” Lorenzano walks over to you with slow, menacing steps. “Because you’d better pray to your god that they won’t carry you out of here in a body bag.”

Nausea rolls around your stomach, and you brace yourself for what you know is going to be another kick or punch. You manage to hang in there at first, but when another blow lands on your head, your dizziness quickly overtakes you while the sound of an electric tool whizzes in the background. You hear Ezra scream as the smell of burnt flesh fills the room, and then everything goes dark again.

It’s so dark.

You’re not sure where you are, but you know you haven’t been here before. It doesn’t feel like a dream either, not with the briny ocean air that you smell all around you.

Painfully slowly the darkness begins to clear eventually, showing that you’re standing somewhere high up on a cliff. There’s a man near the end of the cliff, his back turned to you, dripping wet like he just got out of the ocean.

It’s your brother Jay.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him in a dream. You know it’s him, even from the back, and even if that looks nothing like how you remember him. When he turns around to face you, something wells inside of your chest and crowds your throat - tears of fear or relief, it’s hard to tell. You just know you’re exhausted, and in pain, and bleeding profusely.

Jay reaches out to you, seemingly offering something he’s holding, but when you take a step closer to him you see it move and realize it’s an animal. A snake, or - no, a sea serpent, biting its own tail, immersed in water that Jay is able to hold in his hands somehow.

“Brother. It is time. Come join me.” You hear Jay say the words, even though his lips don’t move, and you notice that his eyes are swirls of blue and white. Like waves in the ocean, or a stormy sky.

You know this is Jay, but none of it feels like when you’ve been seeing Joel in your dreams. Something is seriously wrong.

All of a sudden the choked up feeling in your throat turns into a sharp, blinding pain. It’s like someone jammed a knife into it, or a sword, that goes all the way up to the roof of your mouth. The taste of blood takes over your senses as an alarming amount of it begins to pool into your mouth.

“Were you not looking for me?” Jay’s voice grows louder while the serpent in his hands grows bigger, wriggling in the water. Again offers it to you, stepping even closer, and the ocean smell grows stronger. “Come. Take its tail out so he can breathe and live.”

The words are a bitter irony since you’re nearly choking on your own blood. You feel delirious, your head spinning as you’re already nauseous from the pain. Right when you’re about to reach out and grab the creature from Jay, you hear someone screaming behind you - loudly.

It’s Frankie. And it’s not even the screams that you would normally hear in your dreams with Joel. This is much, much worse. It reminds you of raids gone wrong, sicarios going after you, and that time the both of you almost died falling off a roof. It’s the kind of screaming that’s full of despair instead of just fear, only rivaled in intensity by the sudden sound of a helicopter that you can’t see. It’s so foreign in this setting that it shakes you out of your delirium, just long enough to see three men step out from behind Jay’s back.

Tovar. On the right. Teeth bared, the scar on his face looking an angry red color, a M16 in his hands that’s aimed at Jay’s head.

Lorenzano is standing behind Jay, the expression in his eyes dead and vacant as always, with a barely concealed sneer on his face. There’s a Beretta in his hand that’s aimed at the back of Jay’s head, and for some reason you know that if there’s anyone who wants to kill Jay - it’s gonna be Lorenzano.

“Little Beast.”

Your attention gets pulled to the left of your brother, where the third man stands: tall, a familiar shock of blond in his hair, green brown clothing. Ezra. Unarmed and chillingly calm in contrast to Lorenzano, Tovar and your brother, he extends his left hand to you.

"Every moment of our lives is filled with choices, Little Beast. Your choice and your consequence to bear."

“BROTHER.” Jay’s eyes flash in anger at you, the blue of his pupils turning almost black. “Do not ignore me. Come join me. Kill him as it has been prophesied in word and song.”

Somehow you know ‘him’ isn’t about the men on either side of him. It’s about Lorenzano, still behind Jay, now staring at you as his finger rests against the trigger of his handgun. But before you can respond to Jay, something soft pushes firmly against your leg, followed by the low warning growl of your wolf cub.

You can feel the bindings around the cub before you even look down. It’s like they’re chaining you too, the pressure thin and sharp around your chest and legs, feeling both impossibly delicate and permanent in how strong they are. For a second it shifts your focus of pain away from the blade that’s still lodged into your throat and mouth, but as the wolf cub looks up at you, you can tell that you’re not going to be able to help him with these bindings - and it feels like the biggest failure.

The cub isn’t deterred though, his eyes locked on Jay as he grows loudly at him, and you wince when you feel the wolf’s claws scrape over your leg - you know it doesn’t intend to hurt you, it just wants to protect and be close to you.

Jay furiously yells at you, the expression on his face asinine and enraged, and Lorenzano suddenly no longer standing behind him. So you don’t think - you just reach out for the hand Ezra is offering you, clutching on to him for dear life as you also swoop up the wolf pup in your other arm.

The screams of your brother turn into the roaring sound of the ocean, overtaking all the other sounds around you, and you watch in horror as water starts pouring from his mouth in excessive amounts, in the same way you feel blood pouring from yours.

Jay’s fingers wrap themselves around each side of the serpent, scraping over its scales as he pulls and pulls and pulls with all his might. It doesn’t work initially, nor the second time - but the third time proves to be a charm at last. He forcefully rips the snake’s tail out of its mouth, releasing a loud hissing sound from the creature as it contorts and starts to grow bigger.

Several claps of thunder sound in the air at the same time, and as Ezra’s hand closes around yours and pulls you over to him, you see the assault weapon in Tovar’s hand has turned into a massive hammer.

When the hammer hits Jay, the flash of lightning on impact is almost blinding, cracking his skull, and Jay screams as he throws the serpent at his attacker. The creature immediately wraps itself around his calves, and when its teeth sink deep into Tovar’s leg, it pulls a scream from him that rivals all the other deafening sounds around you.

Tovar stumbles away from Jay and the snake - four, five, six steps, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel another wave of nausea rolling through you.The rage in his eyes when he sees you with Ezra is terrifying, and his path abruptly changes and he moves towards you, one step followed by another. But as he takes one more step, he suddenly pales, grabbing at his leg where the serpent bit him moments earlier.

The creature still has its fangs sunk into Tovar’s leg, acidic looking venom now dripping out of the wound, and it seems like all of a sudden Tovar realizes that this is not something he can beat.

He is a tall, broad man, his right hand still gripping tight onto the large hammer - but when he falls, you can tell there is no way that man is getting up again. The massive hammer hits the ground, making everything shake as a crack forms into the ground, zipping from left to right as more additional cracks happen faster than you can even count.

Then, the tip of the cliff just… breaks off. A moment of complete destruction, happening much faster than seems possible, because within seconds it just plummets all the way down, dragging Tovar and Jay along with it. So fast that you don’t even hear them scream; the only sound you hear is the massive thud as everything crashes down into the ocean, being swallowed up whole by roaring waves that pull it down into its depths to never be seen again.

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This time you're not sure that you are even fully conscious when the room around you comes into focus for a moment. The air smells metallic, like blood and burnt things, and the floor around you is red.

"Little Beast," you hear Ezra gasp, and you want to look at him, but the darkness pulls you under again.

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Everything around you turns red. Dripping with blood, which then turns into bright orange flames, leaping up to the sky like it was their only purpose in life. But the wolf cub is now taller than you, wrapping its tail around you and Ezra as he tosses you onto his back.

You scramble to hold onto his fur as you grab Ezra’s shirt, making sure he won’t slide off. But then you see his right arm is missing, he’s bleeding out all over the three of you - and you don’t know what to do.

“It’s the consequences, Little Beast.” Ezra is calm as ever as he looks at you, the blond streak barely visible in his hair as it’s also covered in blood. “The choice was mine to make. Certain actions ferment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

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Somewhere there’s the sound of guns. There’s screaming, and then you hear a voice that you’d recognize anywhere.

Francisco.

“Is that…” Ezra’s voice is shaking, unable to talk without wincing and gasping from pain. “Fuck. Frankie?”

More gunshots sound and just when the door is slammed open, you once again lose consciousness, your head hurting so much that you wonder if this is the end of it all.

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You’re cold.

Everything is white, but you can still smell the flames.

You know the fire is finally gone when the white begins to weigh heavy on you like snow.

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When you open your eyes, brought back to consciousness by the sound of the wolf cub whimpering against you, there’s a large wolf standing across from you two. Not black, like your cub - brown, like the color of trees, and Frankie’s eyes and hair.

Francisco.

You black out again.

When you finally come to your senses again and open your eyes, there’s a small arctic fox standing next to the brown wolf in the snow. It raises its head when it sees you move, then looks at something behind it in the distance.

It’s only when you see the bloody knife in the crisp snow in front of you that you realize it’s no longer lodged into your throat, and that there’s no blood pooling in your mouth anymore.

Heaven for the climate, hell for the company.

“Frankie.” His name slips from your lips as you start to cry, and the wolf cub whines softly, now curled up against your chest. His paws are bloody, and you’re not sure if it’s his blood or yours, nor where the large piece of bloody meat came from that’s staining the snow between you and the brown wolf who is still standing in front of you.

Brown fur.

Brown curls.

The tall woman in front of you is covered in brown furs, keeping her warm against the snow. She kneels down in front of you as she picks up the piece of bloody meat and puts it in her pocket. Then she reaches out of you, and as you feel the wet brush of her hand on your forehead, pushing back your hair, you feel yourself starting to lose consciousness again.

“Oh.” Her voice is light, tingles like icicles, and she laughs softly, sounding surprised. “Yes. You really are his.”

There’s even more blood than before. Your hands, all the way up your forearms. In your mouth. Hair.

Frankie’s face. His legs. So much blood, and he’s crying.

Someone’s dismembered arm lays on the floor, not too far away from you. You try to figure out if it’s yours, but everything hurts too much - you’re just not sure.

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You’re not sure how you make it to the truck, delirious from blood loss - you just know that somehow you do, Francisco’s hands on you almost the entire time. Once you’re in the vehicle, you promptly black out, coming to your senses later while Frankie drives the truck like he is possessed, several guns in the passenger seat next to him.

You want to ask him what happened - how he found you, and where Ezra is, but every time you think you’ve found the words to ask him that out loud, you black out again, and again, and again. Sometimes you wake up screaming, other times the pain throughout your entire body and head is almost too much to stand - but each and every time, there’s Frankie’s reassuring hand on you.

Somewhere between reality and dreams, or maybe even a worse place than that, you’re drowning in a river of foaming blood. The current is rough, making it incredibly hard to hold on anything as you try to hold onto rocks, a tree trunk, and anything else that’s near you.

The pain in your head is stabbing, overwhelming, and you can’t tell if the blood around you tastes the same as the blood in your mouth - whether it’s both yours, or if some of it is Frankie’s, or maybe even Ezra's.

After what seems like hours it starts to rain, while you’re still trying to stay afloat. At first you’re convinced it’s going to be the final push that’ll make you drown, but somehow as the rain mingles with the bloody river, it starts to dilute the thick red blood little by little, until eventually the blood has disappeared and there’s only water surrounding you, while the sun breaks through the clouds, warming your skin at last. You grit your teeth as you try to make it to the shore once again, and this time you’re successful, finally getting your body out of the water as you lay down into a wheat field, the wolf pup suddenly by your side.

You lurch up when the truck Frankie is driving comes to an abrupt stop, gasping for air as you’re jostled into consciousness for a moment. The wolf cub whines softly, licking your face, and you can’t figure out if you’re actually in the car or in that field next to the river. You hear voices somewhere nearby, and when somebody talks who is clearly not Frankie, the pup bolts up with his teeth bared.

That’s when you see the horse in front of you, just a few steps away, his dark brown coat looking almost black as it shines in the sun. You don’t understand how it’s possible, but you can swear that the horse smells like freshly baked bread and some grain alcohol - maybe it’s whiskey. The horse slowly starts to change shape, and eventually looks like a man wearing yellow aviators and tight jeans, standing there with a cocked hip and an expression somewhere in between annoyance and concern.

“Peña,” you hear Frankie say, but some part of your brain struggles to accept that name for the man.

“Freyr,” you mutter as you close your eyes again, burying your face against the soft fur of the wolf cub curled up against you. You’ve seen that man before, you just don’t remember where. Bogota? Medellin? Maybe talking to Ezra? Fuck - Ezra. Where is he? Is he still alive? “Esdr-...Tyr.” Your head hurts so much that it feels like it’s going to explode.

“Santiago. You’re going to be okay.”

Your eyes fly open when you recognize Joel’s voice, so nearby that for a moment it feels like he is right next to you. Until everything goes black again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Every time you dream of Joel, you ask him.

Every time you ask him, he has no answer for you.

“He’s not here, Santiago.”

“Please. You must be able to find out somehow.”

“I don’t know where Esdras is, hermano.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The medication that Javier and Frankie got for you makes it hard to focus on anything, but at least it keeps the pain away. It makes the nightmares worse though, so you find yourself desperately trying to stay awake.

This is what you understand:

You’re at the El Dorado airport in Bogota, with Francisco and Javier Peña, who is a DEA agent. The three of you are getting on a small plane that’s headed to the United States, but you’re not quite sure where. At some point, you’ll be testifying anonymously about Lorenzano, Tovar and the rest of the syndicate.

“Ezra set this up a year ago,” Javier tells the two of you as he hands you each a passport and some paperwork. “Residency and work permits. The rest will come.”

Francisco is staring at him, looking just as confused as you are feeling. “I don’t understand.”

“Ezra is an American citizen. Was.” Javier hesitates, and you can tell by his expression that the man genuinely doesn’t seem to know whether Ezra is still alive as he looks at you. “When Frankie found you two… well. He should tell you about that some time. But Ezra sent him to me, so I got things moving. Most of this was already set up.”

“Why?”, you manage to ask, and Javier sighs as he takes his yellow aviators off.

“Insurance policy. I know Ezra wanted out, but he didn’t quite seem to think that he would survive that,” he then says. “He figured that if shit hit the fan, at least you two could get out and start over.”

You close your eyes, trying to process the words, but it’s impossible to understand. The idea that Ezra is probably dead is just as unbearable as the thought of what state he might be in if he is still alive.

“Did he lose his arm?”, you ask, and you don’t recognize your own voice - but you can tell the words sound slightly hysterical. “Frankie, where…”

“You should rest. Both of you,” Javier gently but firmly interrupts you, then gives you some pills and a bottle of water. “These will help. You’re safe for now.”

The woman, Lydia, apologizes for the small apartment, saying that’s all she was able to arrange on such short notice. Javier and Francisco assure her it’s perfectly fine, and you can only nod, your tongue and brain still heavy from the medications.

Once Javier had checked all the entrances and exits, feeling good about how secure it is, he leaves you and Frankie alone, saying something about Lydia picking up groceries and clothes for you soon. Only when he’s gone, you’re able to take in the apartment. Lydia may have apologized for its size, but to you it feels like a palace - and you can tell by the expression on Frankie’s face that he feels the same way.

Somehow it reminds you of your childhood home, and when you two sit down at the small kitchen table, you suddenly don’t feel twenty-two anymore but only ten years old at the most. You’ve never had someone give you a place to call home, even if it would be temporary. Hell, you’re never even been in a place that had locks and was intended for only you and Frankie, with exception of that one motel night a long time ago.

You watch Frankie get up from the table and grab two glasses, filling them from a bottle of water in the fridge - the only thing that’s in there. As you drink from it, you take in his appearance. He looks as exhausted as you feel, some cuts and bruises on him, but not as many as you have fortunately.

He lets you look at him, the soft smile on his face indicating he understands you’re still loopy from the drugs, then touches your hand softly as he gets up. “This looks nice,” he says, gesturing around him, and you laugh without meaning to - because if there’s one thing Frankie normally doesn’t do, it’s small talk.

“Shut up, pendejo,” he says as he rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell that he doesn’t mean it. “I just mean - well, this is fucking huge.”

You shower together, mostly because you can’t stand up straight without swaying, but you realize that you quite like it. The water is hot and plentiful, neither of you having soap or anything, but just washing the dirt off your skin already feels like a blessing.

“I can walk,” you object when he seems inclined to help you to the bedroom, and you do so, ignoring when you almost fall twice. The sheets seem old but are so soft against your bare skin, and you drift off so fast while you hear Frankie moving around and letting someone inside the apartment. When he returns, it’s with a small pile of clothes and a bag with deliciously smelling food.

You’re both starving and eat mostly in silence, still trying to understand what happened in the past forty eight hours. When your eyes become too heavy, you curl up under the sheets and breathe a sigh of relief when Frankie does so as well. His naked body is so warm against yours as he wraps an arm around you, laying against your back, and you both fall asleep this way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“America.” A smile tugs at Joel’s lips, and for a moment you’re not sure if you are actually dreaming. Everything indicates that you are, except for the way Joel looks. There is no decaying half to his face, or his body - he’s all in one piece, standing in front of you. Even looking relaxed, which is not exactly a characteristic you associate with him.

There are no dead bodies anywhere near the two of you.

Nobody is bleeding out on the ground, or screaming.

It should be comforting, a relief, but after so many years of always having dreamt of Joel one way, your brain is struggling to understand what’s happening.

“Are you okay?”, you ask Joel, feeling stupid asking the question when he’s clearly looking better than he has before. “I mean…”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Santiago.” The expression on Joel’s face softens further, looking almost wistful, and suddenly you know with alarming clarity that this is the last time you’re going to be dreaming about him like this. “You got out.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The footsteps down the hallway are firm and moving closer to the room where you and Frankie are seated. He gives you a short nod as you both get up from the chairs, standing straight as you wait for the door to swing open.

A tall blond man dressed in uniform enters the room, and you can tell that it takes him just a second to size up the two of you - make a quick judgment about what he sees too, probably.

He closes the door behind him, then walks over to shake your hands briefly. He gestures at the chairs you were seated earlier as he takes a seat of his own, behind the desk.

“Mr. Garcia, Mr. Morales. My name is Captain William Miller. What can I do for you?”

A/N II: I need to give a nod to @oliveksmoked’s incredible 'Nothing That We Need' (Narcos x Supernatural with Javi x OFC) and @ohforficsake’s The Margay' (Frankie x Audrey, POC OFC) which ended up influencing this fic a lot, and are both absolute must reads. Finally, thank you to @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @qveerthe0ry @mountainsandmayhem and @magpiepills for all the support and feedback (and letting me cry when I needed to for many reasons). Dividers by @saradika!

Here’s a little overview of Santi + the PPCU characters in this fic, plus and the Norse Gods that Erin assigned to them. Click on their names to go read the other Frith stories written by some amazing writers! @perotovar, thank you so much once again for organizing this incredible event, love you so much!

Santiago Garcia → Fenrir. Most famous of all the wolves in Norse Mythology, bringer of Ragnarok a.k.a. the end of the world. Joel Miller/Santi’s brother → Hel. Goddess of death and guide to the underworld. Jay/Santi’s (oldest) brother -> Jormungand. The serpent banished to the ocean, will rise at the end of the world.

Francisco Morales → Skadi. Goddess of winter, skiing, bow-hunting, and mountains. Ezra / Esrads → Týr. God of victory, law, and justice.

Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano → Odin. The All-Father. God of wisdom, magic, war, death and trickery. Pero Tovar → Thor. God of thunder, lightning and the protection of humankind. Max Phillips/Santi’s father → Loki. The Trickster God of mischief and chaos. Javier Peña → Freyr. God of fertility, harvests, and peace. Rules over weather.

main masterlist | follow @longlongtime-updates for updates

#santiago garcia #oscar isaac #frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frith challenge #joel miller #javier peña #maxwell lord #max lord #max phillips #pero tovar #ezra prospect #skadi #odin #thor #freyr #tyr

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 3 months ago

Text

Beach Birthday - JJ Maybank One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

JJ x KookGirlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: Language, smut, drinking, drug usage

📖 Readers wants to try something new for her birthday 💕

*spoiler: reader can’t swim

Reader’s POV:

You ready, baby?“ JJ smiles, looking out at the water.

“All ready, J.”

“Light winds and long breaking waves,” he hums. “A perfect day. Fitting for you, sweetness.”

“Thanks, Jayj. It’s been the perfect day.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And, it’s only gonna get better. Yeah? You ready?”

“Ready.” You look over at him and smile.

JJ takes off his shirt and strips down to his swim trunks. You can’t help but stare, his toned and tanned body.

“Alright let’s do this!” You cheer before reaching down, grabbing your board.

“Baby, you don’t just go surfing,” he chuckles.

“It can’t be that hard,” you tease and smirk.

“Really?” He narrows his blue eyes, staring into yours.

“Are you saying I can’t do it, Maybank?”

“Am I saying that you can’t learn how to surf in two hours, princess? Absolutely,” he scoffs.

“Jayj… I’m kidding.”

“You’re a piece of work, princess,” he laughs, shaking out his blonde hair as he snags a joint from behind his ear. “I’ll let it slide today. We’re just going to go out there and learn the basics… this isn’t the only time we’re gonna go. Right?” He asks hopefully.

“Of course not. I wanna do this more than just today, Jayj.”

“You’re not doin’ this just to make me happy?” He asks as he lifts the joint to his lips, taking a hit.

“Absolutely not, baby. I wanted to try something new for my birthday.” You smile as you unhook your overall shorts, dropping them onto the sand. JJ’s eyes shift to you, watching as you adjust the top and bottom of your bikini. Smoke pours from his lips, settling into a flirty smile.

“You look great, mama,” he rasps.

“Thank you, baby,” you smile as you spread some sunscreen on your skin.

“You want help?” JJ shuffles your way, passing the joint to you as you nod.

“Please.” You hand him the sunscreen, and he applies it to your back. His hands linger, rubbing circles, massaging as he goes. You roll your head to the side, eyes closed, inhaling the smoke, listening to the crashing of the waves in the distance.

“This really is amazing, J,” you breathe, blowing the smoke out with it. He pulls your hair back, kissing you softly. “This is my favorite place, baby. You’re my favorite thing. It doesn’t get better than this.”

You smile, biting your lip. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, leaning his head into your shoulder. “No it doesn’t.”

“What do you say, birthday girl?”

“Let’s do it.” JJ pushes you forward playfully, slapping your butt, pulling you out of your sticky sweet mood. “Fuck, JJ,” you whine, feeling the light sting of his hand on your ass.

You smack him back. He moans playfully, poking his tongue out between his teeth. You roll your eyes in reply kicking up a little sand as you walk with him to the water.

Standing by the boards, JJ tells you to drop to your belly. You do, staring at him, waiting for your first lesson.“We’re doing pop-ups,” he mumbles; joint dangling from his bottom lip. JJ shows you how to do it first, effortlessly of course. “Your turn.”

You pop-up slamming your feet into the sand. “Jesus, baby doll,” he chuckles as he shakes the sand out of his hair. “Chill out. Gracefully,” he adds, drawing out the word, reminding you how it’s done.

You practice a dozen more times, bringing your hands up to your waist in exhaustion. “I didn’t know we were workin’ out, J,” you pant, sweat glistening in the sun.

“Here, follow me.” JJ grabs your hand, pulling you close to the water. He sits down and pulls you between his legs, his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s find the channel.”

“What’s that, J?”

“Safer waters, babe. That’s the place you should paddle out to.” He explains the differences between the two types of channels,“ you lean against his chest, taking it all in.

“See, right there.” He points over your shoulder, “that’s a channel, you can see the section filled with whitewash… Do you see that?” You nod in reply.

“Let’s go paddle. Huh?” JJ smiles.

You run back up the beach a little to grab your boards. Copying JJ you reach down and grab your surfboard, pulling it to your side. “Why is yours shorter than mine? You’re taller than me.”

“Because I know what I’m doing, sweetness. When you get this down we’ll get you a smaller board too… You learn on a longboard.”

You walk with JJ into the water, moving deeper, feeling your anxiety rise with the water. Your jaw tightens, nervousness swirling your stomach. JJ looks over at you wide-eyed, his face full of concern.

“You good, babe?”

“Umm… Are we goin’ any deeper than this? I s-swear the channel was closer,” you say weakly as you glance over your shoulder, clocking the distance.

“Uhh… We’re like halfway out, baby girl,” he laughs lightly, sensing your unease. “Are you okay? You look scared shitless-”

“I don’t know how to swim!” You yell, clutching onto your board for dear life.

JJ narrows his gaze on yours, rolling over your words in his head. “What now?”

“I… Uh. I don’t know how to swim.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, giving you a playful shove, making you scream as you hug onto the board, eyes slamming shut.

“What the fuck?” he laughs in shock.

“Ugh, jayj. I dunno. I mean-”

“Your family own the yacht club, baby. You’re on the water all the time. You don’t know how to-”

“Swim?” You cut him short as well, equally as surprised with yourself. “No, baby. I don’t.”

“Okay, princess. It’s fine. It’s fine,” he soothes. “Today we paddle. Tomorrow swimming lessons. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Jayj.” You sigh as you pull yourself up onto your board cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

“Copy me. Alright,” he coaches as he starts to paddle. You mimic is movements, pulling through the water.

“Look at you!” JJ yells with a big smile on his face as you follow suit. You paddle around for a while, following JJ.

“So, why didn’t you tell me before?” JJ asks as the two of you sit on your boards, drifting through the water, your bodies rolling and rocking with the waves.

“All the girls you’ve dated before seemed to be surfers… How was I going to break it to you that I couldn’t even swim,” you sigh through a soft smile as you kick your feet through the water.

“Just like that,” he teases. “Just tell me. I love being with you… Teaching you new shit. This isn’t any different, sunshine.”

“I love bein’ with you too, Jayj.”

He smiles as he looks out at the shore, glancing back at you. “So, I guess you’re tryin’ a few new things for your birthday.”

“Mhmm… I am. Best birthday ever, Jayj.”

JJ turns his hat backward, moving eye-level with the sand, tucking the kindling in the center. He pops a cigarette between his lips, lighting it first, taking a drag before reaching his hand inside the cone, lighting the tinder with the end. The blaze grows, fire licking the wood.

JJ crawls toward you, pressing a kiss onto your lips. He takes a seat on the blanket next to you, looking down at you with a smile. “C’mere,” he grins. JJ widens his thighs, tapping the spot in between. You take your place in his arms, leaning back against his chest.

“Do I get a short board now?” You ask, doing your best not to laugh.

”What?“ He chuckles.

“A short board, Maybank.”

“Absolutely not,” he knocks as he wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock. “A life jacket. Maybe. How ‘bout that?”

“Rude,” you giggle, tapping out against his arm.

JJ pinches his cigarette, drawing it from his lips as he exhales through his nostrils. He snuffs it out in the sand. His rough hands follow your arms to your own, weaving his finger into yours, wrapping them around your waist. He tucks his head into your neck, breathing softly, lips, brushing your skin.

“It’s beautiful here,” you sigh.

“Just like you, baby.”

Your cheeks burn from your smile as you take in your surroundings. The cracking of the fire, ash dancing high in the sky, mixing with the stars.

“You were such a great teacher, Jayj,” you praise.

“And, you were an amazing student, babydoll.

“Feels like I owe you, handsome. You can have whatever you’d like,” you smile as you bite your lip.

“Well,” he chuckles lustily. “It’s your birthday, mama. I think I owe you.”

You dig your beer into the sand and sit up, turning around to face JJ before pressing him down onto the blanket. “This is exactly what I want.” JJ’s smile widens as you pull your shirt over her head, showing off your bikini’d breasts again, making his eyes roll back.

“You are a fucking fantasy, princess,” he praises. You bite your lip, reaching around your back to undo the bow.

JJ’s darkened eyes follow the curve of your lips, down to your tits; the small of your waist, and down to your hips. You slip a hand down slowly, touching his chest before landing on the strings of his boardshorts. You undo it with one hand as your lips move with his.

“I adore you, JJ,” you whisper.

“I adore you, baby. I really, really do.” JJ bucks up slightly for you to pull down his jeans. He laces his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly as he waits for more.

You kiss the tip of his cock, swirling around his swollen head. He moans at the feeling, melting into the sand as you catch his precum on your tongue. You wrap your hand around the base of JJ’s cock, taking him deep in your mouth.

“Oh shit,” he moans, throwing his head back. You move your hand and lips in succession. JJ grips the beach blanket tightly watching you as you go.

Popping off quickly you take your fingers, putting them in your mouth. JJ’s eyes haze as you pull your swimsuit bottoms to the side. You return your lips to his shaft as you begin to work on yourself.

“Fuckk… look at me, baby,” JJ pants. You do, moaning onto him as you twist your hand, sending JJ over the edge. You feel his leg jerking as he reaches down, placing his hands on the back of your head.

JJ spills into your mouth, a wave of curse words and praise following. You swallow and crawl slowly towards his lips. JJ kisses you passionately, pulling you closer with his hands on the back of your neck.

“That was unbelievable, baby,” he sighs. JJ moves his hands down to your warmth. “Ugh… you’re so wet f’me, mama,” he whispers breathlessly.

JJ rolls you over quickly onto the blanket, pressing his weight on top of you. “Take off your shirt,” you cry desperately. His muscular body steals your attention, focus falling to his chest and chiseled abs.

“Pay attention, sweetheart,” he taunts. You return your eyes to his with a smile, met with a sly smirk, JJ thoroughly enjoying your fixation on him again.

“I just can’t help myself, Jayj,” you sigh, biting your lip.

JJ takes his length in his hand and lines himself up with your entrance, tapping lightly. He spreads your wetness on his tip and slides in slightly, returning his lips to yours. JJ slides in slowly to the base, making you whine.

“Fuck, J,” you pant as you try your best to adjust to his size.

“Damn. You feel so good, baby,” he grunts. He begins to roll his hips into you. You widen your legs, wrapping your arms around your thighs, pulling them to your chest. JJ moves to his knees taking your breasts in his hands.

He quickens the pace, causing his body to slap against your thighs as he glides his dick in and out. “JJ,” you cry in pleasure as you feel your orgasm start to build.

“Are you going to cum, sweetheart,” he pushes out.

“Yeah,” you moan.

“Me too,” he grunts as he moves his fingers down to your clit.

“Mmm-fuck,” you cry as you feel your release radiate through your body. You feel his hips hitch as he moans in pleasure, his warmth fills you.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs as his eye lashes flutter open. You giggle, pulling him down on top of you. Your breathing slows together.

“I love you, baby,” he pants.

“I love you too, Jayj.”

“Happy birthday, my love.”

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x reader

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orcasoul · 10 months ago

Text

Oh Mama! A continuation of Oh Baby

Summery: As the birth draws closer you reflect on all the ways Pedro has been there for you throughout your pregnancy.

Warnings: Swearing, verbal abuse (not by our sweet man), protective Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

Italics indicate in ward thinking and flashbacks.

This is a continuation of Oh Baby which was meant to be a one shot but after a request for a part 2 I've decided to write this and a part 3 which will be called Oh Daddy, which will focus on Pedro being the amazing dad and partner we all know he would be :)

Word Count: 2,836

Miserable! that's how you feel. Miserable, bloated, heavy. No matter how much you shift or turn, finding a good sleeping position is next to impossible. It also doesn't help that you're in the middle of a sweltering heatwave. The aircon is on but it might as well be non existent with the hot flashes that keep plaguing your body.

You look to your left and feel a little twinge of jealousy as you watch Pedro sleep soundly in the dim lamp light. Why the fuck should he get to sleep while I can't! You know it's just the hormones making you feel irritable and bitter but right now you want nothing more than to shake him awake and tell him to stay awake with you.

But no matter how irritable your last month of pregnancy is making you there's no way you be that spiteful. As you watch Pedro sleep, his plush lips slightly parted, letting slow, rhythmic breathes escape, you begin to reminisce all the ways he's been there for you, supporting you and caring for you since you'd told him you're pregnant.

Neither one of you had planned for this baby, but life doesn't always go according to our own plans. It has it's own agenda and all you can do is follow the path it lays before you and do your very best. After your initial fear of telling Pedro about the baby- and that awful resulting anxiety induced nightmare - you both seemed to easily slip into your natural roles. You; the nurturing and tender mother and Pedro; the protective and comforting father and partner.

For someone who once said he's never gonna be a dad, he sure seemed happy and content these past 7 months and that happiness has bubbled over into excitement now that the birth will be any day. Pedro stirs in his sleep a little, causing a couple of stray curls to fall onto his forehead. You gently brush them back up off his face, taking care not to wake him.

You guess he could actually do with the rest after weeks of being at your every beck and call, sometimes even going out at stupid 'o' clock to buy whatever your insatiable cravings demanded. You shift for the thousandth time, onto your side and put a pillow between your knees to provide some - but not much - relief. You continue to watch him sleep, feeling his breath fan your face, his shoulders slowly rising and falling and you feel the baby kick you again.

The little Bun - as you both lovingly refer to it since you've both agreed to not find out the sex and be surprised - has been quite active today. Tears fill your eyes and suddenly you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, as you place your hand tenderly on your bump and stare at the face of the man you love. This is what it's all about, you perceive, growing a beautiful new life with the perfect man. And boy, has he been just that for the past several months.

Your mind starts to wander back to all the moments where Pedro has gone above and beyond for you both....

The third month of your pregnancy is when your morning sickness really ramped up. Until that point you had only felt slightly nauseous but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. The first time you threw up actually startled Pedro. The poor guy almost had a heart attack when you leapt up from bed, accidentally dragging the quilt and him across the bed. You would have felt bad about waking him if you weren't too busy spewing your guts up into the toilet.

"What the fuck?!" is what you heard from the bedroom as you heaved and retched. "Baby?... You Okay?" Pedro asked quietly from behind you in the doorway to the on suite. "Yeah I'm-" blargh!- "I'm... good," you finally reply in a shaky voice as you wipe your mouth with one hand while the other holds your hair back. And so it went on for months. Pedro was always beside you (when he wasn't away filming or doing interviews) rubbing soothing strokes along your back, whispering comforting words and waiting with a glass of water in hand.

The more frequent the episodes became, the more he started to worry about you. You hated seeing him so worried as much as he hated seeing you be sick, so one time you'd decided to make light of the situation. After chucking up for what felt like the millionth time you called Pedro to the bathroom. He came rushing to you but before he could say a word you cried "Hold my hairrrrr!!" in your best whiny Dieter voice. Pedro burst out laughing as he clearly hadn't been expecting that of all things.

"That's a good one," he chuckled as he did indeed hold your hair. "How long have you been waiting to do that?" You look up at him and giggle but it's cut short by another bought of retching, which of course Pedro helped you through with words of encouragement. "Just be glad I don't have to shit, too," you mumble into the toilet bowl causing another burst of laughter to erupt from him.

You smile quietly to yourself at the memory while smoothing over the arc of your bump. You can't believe that a woman can naturally grow so big and not burst, which takes you back to the time you'd gotten upset over your sudden weight gain....

After coming home from a much needed shopping trip for maternity clothes and larger everyday clothes you slump onto the settee to rest your aching feet while Pedro puts the kettle on. You miss coffee but it's better for the baby if you stick to tea for a while. It was just as good and definitely helped to relax you. Once the drinks were finished Pedro took the cups to the kitchen and started to prepare for dinner. "I'm gonna go put the clothes away," you called to him in the kitchen, to which he replied, "Don't be too long. Food will be ready soon."

Staring into your wardrobe, a lump forms in your throat and tears burn behind your eyes as you take in the sight of some of your favourite and much smaller clothes. The more items you remove, to be replaced with the new and larger (two sizes larger to be precise) clothes, the more you feel the dam about to burst. Fighting it is no good, what with the hormones and all, and in a matter of seconds you're a blubbering mess on the bedroom floor.

"Y/N...," Pedro calls up the stairs, "Food's ready." You quickly choke back your sobs as best you can and try not to sound like someone who's just been in the middle of a complete breakdown. "O-kay," you faltered unintentionally. Great, maybe he didn't notice. Oh, but he did notice. His hasty footsteps were a dead giveaway of that fact. Pedro appeared in the bedroom moments later, his brows pinched and deep chestnut eyes full of compassion. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?" he asked dolefully as he slowly lowered himself to the floor next to you, both of you surrounded by your old clothes.

You look up at him through red, puffy eyes. "I'm so f... fat!," you bawled while gripping one of your favourite tops. "I feel like a whale!" Pedro lets out an endearing huff. "What?... It's true!" Bwahhaha!... "Shhh..." Pedro coos into your ear as he takes you in his strong arms. "That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said. You're not fat and you certainly don't look like a whale," he asserted as he holds your flushed and tear streaked face in his hands and looks directly into your eyes. "You're growing a brand new life in there," he says as he places a hand on your belly. "Of course your body will change and it's a good change."

"I just... can't see how you co...could be attracted to me right now," you wept while looking down. "What?!" Pedro asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea what it does to me seeing you carry and care for my baby?" Pedro wipes your tears away and you look up to meet his eyes once more. "You've never been more beautiful than you are right now, darling. Don't you forget that, okay?" Through calmer breathes you whisper "Okay."

Just as you got semi comfortable you realise you're now quite thirsty. With an annoyed eye roll and a huff, you roll onto your back and push yourself up to reach over for the glass of water on your nightstand. Maybe you moved a little too fast because as you put the glass down you suddenly feel a little light headed. It passed in literally a few seconds. This is nothing compared to the dizzy spells you had to endure a few months ago....

You woke with a start when your phone rang. It might as well have been a bloody foghorn with how it pierced the peace and quiet of the living room. It's Pedro. You haven't seen each other for a few weeks due to his filming commitments but you talk everyday. Swiping the answer button you groggily mumble, "Hello." Hey sweetheart," Pedro began cheerfully, "Thought I'd call you on your lunch break... You okay? You sound funny." "Yeah..." you answer sluggishly, "I'm fine." You know he'll never buy it. "What's wrong?" Pedro asks in an assertive but gentle tone. "Nothing...," you try to placate him.

"...They just sent me home from work because I was having dizzy spells." "Did you call the doctor?" Pedro interjects quickly, his voice laced with concern. You can almost feel his anxiety through the phone. "Not yet. I just needed to lay down for a bit. I'm actually feeling a bit better." Okay, that may have been a white lie but the last thing you want is to cause Pedro any unnecessary worry. But of course he's worried. "Why didn't you call me straight away?" Pedro pressed perturbedly. "I just didn't want to worry you," You answer with a hint of guilt.

"I'm coming home-" "Ped, you can't. You have an interview today-" "They'll understand," he insisted, firmly. "I'm on the next flight home." You know when he speaks in such a final tone that his mind is made up. "Okay," you relent, feeling like a burden, but you know he'd worry like hell if he didn't come back to you right now. Turns out you had low iron levels and low blood pressure. Pedro made you stay off work and re-scheduled his interview with Vanity Fair. He never left your side for the next couple of weeks while you recovered.

Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead but sleep still eludes you. Silently pushing up on your elbows, you peer over Pedro's shoulder at the alarm clock. 2:38 am. You lay back down on your side and your shuffling must have disturbed Pedro because now his arm has found it's way across your side, hand splayed on your back slowly pulling you into his broad body, tucking your head under his chin. He sighs in his sleep and his breathing evens out again as he settles back into slumber. Being wrapped up in the arms of the man you love is absolute heaven for you.

You lay a hand against his chest feeling the calm and slow movements of his thorax. With his arm draped over you it's impossible to not feel safe and protected. It feels like nothing in the world can ever hurt you and your child. Pedro's action's assured you of that when an overly enthusiastic fan verbally abused you one evening....

"The black Audi A6, please." Pedro handed the ticket to the valet as you both stepped out of the restaurant. After two weeks apart this date night is just what you both needed. The morning sickness had finally stopped by your seventh month and you'd been looking forward to this night all week. The clingy, thigh length, black maternity dress you'd bought especially for tonight hugged your bump and the curve of your hips perfectly. You actually felt attractive for the first time in months.

While waiting for the car you slip your hand into Pedro's and place a soft kiss on his shoulder. "Thank you for tonight. It's been perfect," you smiled warmly. Pedro let go of your hand to place his own at your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. "You deserve it, baby," he whispered as his lips brush your hairline. "And by the way," he adds while looking up and down your body, "You look incredible!" Even after all this time together he's still able to make you blush like a teenager. Before you can reply an excited squeal ruptures the still night air. "On my god! Pedro Pascal!" A young woman cries, unable to contain her elation.

She rushes over to you both with two more companions who are equally excited to meet Hollywood's hottest celebrity. The two girls and man couldn't have been older than their mid twenties. "Hi," Pedro smiled and tightened his grip on your waist. He's always been protective of you and now that you're having his baby that protective side has increased exponentially. "Can we have a photo, please!" The other girl asked with a huge grin. "Of course you can," Pedro chirped but didn't release his hold on you. You gently squeeze his hand while peeling it off your hip, a silent 'it's okay' and you excuse yourself to stand several feet away.

You're used to fans approaching, and you love to see how much Pedro's supporters adore him, and that his mere presence whips people up into a frenzy. You smile proudly in adoration, stroking your baby bump as you watch how much of a natural he is with his fans. "Thank you!" "We're huge fans!" "You're amazing!" "We love you!" The words are spilling out of their mouths at the same time, all talking over one another. "Aw, thank you so much, guys. That means a lot," Pedro replies, his beaming smile stretching from one cheek to the other.

While the women are still fussing, the man looks your way and then down to your rounded stomach. "Aww, baby Pascal," he burst vehemently. Suddenly he rushed at you, hands outstretched and a determined look on his face, "Can I feel?" The intensity from this stranger sent you into automatic defence mode for your baby. You step back, instinctively covering your belly just as he's about to grab you, permission or not! "Don't touch me!" you cautioned him, nervously. Pedro's head snapped from the women to your direction at the sound of your alarmed voice.

"Gee's Okay!" the man snapped at you irately. "I only wanted to feel. No need to be such a bitch about it!" He spat the word bitch out like he had a bad taste in his mouth causing your eyes to widen. "The fuck did you just say to her?!!" Pedro exploded as he stood between you and this entitled piece of shit. "Whoa... easy man-" the man stuttered in defence but Pedro cut him off. "You have no right to touch anyone against their will, especially a pregnant woman. And who the fuck do you think you are calling her a bitch because she said no?!" The man stared dumfounded. Pedro leaned in to the man's personal space, seething, "You'd better walk away while you still can!"

You've never seen Pedro this angry, literally shaking with rage, chest to chest with the guy, who looks like he's about to piss himself. His friends pull him away, scolding him in hushed tones and offering apologies to you both. "Baby?..." you soothed while stroking up and down Pedro's arm. He turns to you, chest heaving and still shaking but the moment he locks eyes with you his gaze softens, frown lines un-creasing and muscles relaxing. He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, languidly. "You're okay, darling. I won't ever let anything happen to you two." And he means that. You can feel the conviction of his declaration as if it were a physical manifestation.

You hadn't even realised you had fallen asleep until you were being jostled awake by a deep, concerned voice. "Y/N... Y/N, wake up." "Hmmm?" you groaned sleepily as you came to, feeling like you could smother Pedro with his pillow for waking you now! "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" annoyance and exhaustion seeped through your words. "Baby, I literally just dropped off!" "The bed's wet!" Pedro quickly replied. "What the?..." It was more of a realisation than a question as you looked down to see your shorts and the mattress completely soaked. "My water's have broken!" you gasp, looking wide eyed into Pedro's equally wide eyes. It's time....

Oh Daddy A Conclusion

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedropascal #pedrito #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fluff

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beefrobeefcal · 1 year ago

Note

I have a Thot to contribute for the Beefro Repentance Tiddie Fic, in case it is helpful or shall I say... titillating? 😂 (I'm sorry)

Since it didn't specify who gets milked, maybe we go back to late-stage pregnant Mouse? A little lactation play where Frankie drinks from her after dinner until he tops off his big full belly? (Big enough to rival her bump 🥵)

Or since it sounds like nonnie wants some male breast play too...add Frankie and Mouse playing with each other's delectable chests first?

Anyway just some ideas! I wasn't expecting your poll to turn out how it did, not gonna lie 😄 But hey, I'll enjoy wherever you take us with this!

You're a lifesaver, Reby!

fucking RIGHTS we need to expose Frankie's Breeding, Pregnancy & Lactation Kinks!

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Mouse's Relief

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: Frankie helps Mouse find relief.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,382

Content Warning: pregnancy talk, main character pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, 5-knuckle shuffle (male), lactation, breast feeding, breast milk, cumming in pants, weight talk, eating, sore breasts

Author's Notes: Thank you @rebel-held for the assistance you provided in your THOT. Thank you to @thehalflifeofloveisforever, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their input, eyes and THOTs.

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It had been a day. You were now on maternity leave, supposedly to be giving yourself some down time before your baby arrived, but you’d been anything but relaxed today.

Your baby had been kicking the same rib over and over for the last three days, not allowing you to have any restful sleep; your big belly weighed heavily on you, making movements hard; and to top it all off, your milk had come in, making your breasts extremely sore and heavy.

Pregnancy was so uncomfortable.

Thankfully, it was a Friday and that meant you had Frankie all to yourself from the moment he got home to Monday morning at 6:00 am. He’s been so patient and caring with you, rubbing your feet and back, switching sides of the bed with you so you could be closer to the bathroom, and giving you your space when you needed to just be left alone because of the raging hormones in your body, then running back the moment you needed to be held.

Despite being so uncomfortable, you decided to do something special for him to dinner and make his favourite – lasagna.

****

Frankie arrived home, opening up the back door to the smell of his absolute favourite. He smiled and walked into the kitchen, seeing you leaning against the counter, your hands holding your phone and resting on your big belly, while you scrolled through whatever app you were hooked on today. He couldn’t help but notice how much more pronounced your chest was, and his cock twitched in his jeans. But before he could do anything, he knew he needed to test the waters first.

“Hey mama…”, he said softly with a smile, coming up beside you and splaying his hand over your middle. He pressed a kiss on your temple and moved his hand over your sore side. “How’s the rib?”

You sighed with a tired smile. “Sore… but okay. How was work?”

He didn’t want to talk about work. Not when that sigh heaved your swollen tits, making his cock twitch harder.

“Baby…”, he cooed as he kissed your neck, continuing to test whether you’d let him go further, and he reached up and gently palmed your tit.

You hissed in pain, and he jumped back. “What? What happened?”

“They hurt… so much… I’m sorry, Frankie. Please don’t touch my boobs.”

“What- why are they so sore, Mouse?”, he asked, sounding concerned with a slight hint of annoyance.

“Milk’s coming in, and they’re swollen and-“

“I can see that.”, he stated, his eyes glued to your ample cleavage.

“Frankie.” Your tone was indicative of your own irritation and a warning that your hormonal temper was rearing its head.

He looked up to your face and offered a sheepish grin.

“Okay… no touching the tiddies.”

You sighed again, not wanting your weekend to start with your mood. “It’s okay, baby. Dinner will be ready soon so you should have your shower. “

He nodded with a smile and kissed you quickly before heading to the bedroom.

As Frankie stood in the shower, he tried to ignore his semi hard-on but his mind kept slipping back to the sight of you, round and heavy, tits swollen and all because of him. He gripped his now fully hard cock and pumped himself, thinking about how good you feel and smell and look, and…

He came fast, his come hitting the shower wall then washing away under the spray of the shower. As he calmed down, he thought about how quickly he hit his release by his own hand when his mind was filled with you being pregnant. He grinned to himself as he finished his shower, making a mental note to take some more pictures of you like this for his personal spank bank, especially if you decided one kid was enough. He dried off and got dressed, heading back out into the kitchen with you.

*****

The lasagna was gone, and Frankie’s belly was the only evidence that it had ever existed. You couldn’t stomach it, so he had eaten your portion as well, so you had some fruit and soup instead.

“Fuck me, Mouse… we both look like we’re about to pop.”, he chuckled, trying to pull down his T-shirt, the same one that fit just fine a few weeks ago.

“Head to the couch, I’ll clean up.”, you said, standing up and wincing.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not, mama.”, he grunted as he stood up. “I’ll clean up later. You need to relax.”

After some coaxing, Frankie had convinced you to have a bath and he would be ready for you when you were done.

As you soaked, Frankie sat on the couch, full belly sitting heavily on his lap, and he searched online for how to help you with your sore breasts. He read about warm compresses and massaging, then his heart almost jumped into his throat and his cock came to standing attention at once when he read that he could express the milk by sucking it out. He groaned and palmed at his hard on through his sweatpants. Yup. He was going to be so helpful.

You got out of the bath, feeling more relaxed, minus your breasts, and got into your lounge clothes, then made your way out to the living room. You stopped in the doorway and watched as Frankie grunted looking at his phone with a feral intensity and his hand palming his crotch.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Your tone was teasing and the grin on your face told him to not stop on your account.

“I think I can help you… with your tiddy problem.”, he grunted, tossing his phone to the couch and standing up. He walked towards you, his eyes fixed on your chest, and he licked his lips.

“Frankie! I said they’re sore!”

“I know… and I wanna help.”, he groaned as he pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck. If it wasn’t for the fact you both had pronounced bellies, you know you’d feel his cock pressing into you.

His hand came up and slipped under your shirt and he gently caressed your breast through your flimsy bralette. Your breath hitches and he hushed you and kissed your neck again.

“Don’t think you understand what you do to me, looking like this, mama… your fucking body is just…”

He grunted as his cock tried to find friction when he bucked his hips, and he softly twisted your nipple. You gasped and let out a pained whine, but he held you firmly where you were.

“Lemma help, mama… please.”, he pleaded against your neck, breathing heavily. “Lemme make it better.”

You winced again at his hands, as gentle and wonderful as they felt, and seriously considered telling him off. But the desperation in his voice plus the warmth of his hand on your swollen breast gave you pause.

He stood up, nudging his nose against yours, his eyelids heavy and he whispered please again. You nodded and he led you to the couch.

Once you were seated, he went to the bathroom and grabbed a few towels, and put them beside you. He leaned down, holding himself above you with his hand on the back of the couch. He kissed you, and you could tell he was holding himself back as he did. He released your lips and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, Mouse, you look so good like this…”, he panted as he stood up. “I’m gonna help…”

He dropped to his knees between yours and pushed your shirt up over tour belly, kissing and mouthing his way up. You watched him with wide eyes, and it dawned on you what he was planning.

“Frankie? What are you gonna-“

“Gonna make it better, mama… gonna help you.”, he grunted again, pushing your shirt your breasts and pulling it over your head.

He sat back on his heels and looked you over with a ravenous ferocity in his eyes.

“Fuck... yes, mama... look so good...”, he groaned, his hands going to your swollen middle. “No idea what it does to me to see you stretching out your shirts because you're so full of my baby... tits looking amazing....”

He dove his face forward, kissing your belly again, moving up to mouth your nipple through the jersey knit fabric of your bralette. It felt amazing, but also completely confusing and overwhelming. The only time Frankie had expressed this much admiration for your swollen body was when he was drunk; he would get handsy and needy and would whine and beg you to ride him or let him fuck you in front of a mirror so he could see you. He was never this demanding and gropey and domineering. This was new and you were not mad at it.

“Frankie...”, you whined as you panted when he nipped just a bit too hard at your breast. “Please! They’re so sore... please be gentle!”

“I know... I know, mama... I’m gonna help.”, he cooed, sucking your nipple lightly through your bralette.

You sucked in your breath and your hand went to his head, gripping his hair, and you winced as he added pressure with his hand to your other breast, causing it to leak a bit. When he felt the warmth of your milk saturate your bralette, he sat back and stared. His pupils were so blown out, you could no longer differentiate where his irises were, and his eyes were fixed on your clothed, leaking breast.

“Frankie... are you gonna...?”, you asked quietly through heavy breathing.

His eyes didn’t move as he nodded slowly and licked his lips. His hands came up and pulled your bralette off, releasing your heavy breasts, and his mouth immediately grasped one of your nipples and sucked. You let out a breathy whine and once again gripped his hair, this time with both hands. The pinch and pull of him sucking to get your milk moving was almost too much until you felt a release. You sighed at the relief that washed over you and Frankie groaned as milk spurted into his mouth.

He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of milk, grunting as he suckled, despite his belly already being full from his big dinner. He didn’t care about the ever-tightening feeling in his middle; his mind had a singular focus and that was what he had in his mouth.

When he felt like he couldn’t get more from that breast, he released your nipple and licked it, looking up at you with dark eyes and panting. He moved over to your other breast, now leaking even more, and nudged it with his nose and his tongue darted out, licking up the escaped milk.

“Jesus... Mouse... you taste so fucking good...”, he grunted as he lapped up the warm liquid. His voice sounded deep and primal, like your weeping tits had unlocked some deep seeded need Frankie hadn’t tapped into yet.

You locked eyes with him again and he made a low growl as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and began sucking on it greedily.

You leaned forward a bit and one of your hands slid down, looking for his hard cock, but his belly was in the way. You knew he was full before, but now his belly would rival yours. It felt tight and as your fingers rubbed and prodded him, and you felt his body move as he rutted his hips.

“Poor baby... bet your dick is just aching... but you’re too big for me to get it... I can feel how full you are, Frankie baby... belly’s getting big... but you like this, don’t you... getting fat because you put a baby in me... that’s it... good boy...”, you cooed, stroking his hair.

A low moan emanated from Frankie and his grip on your thighs tightened and he panted through gulps. When he finally drained the second breast, he sat back, and you released his hair. He looked like he was in another realm of existence, with milk dripping down his chin and his eyes blown out. He was panting and fell back and laid on the floor, his extremely full belly prominently jutting out above him and groaned.

It took some work, but you got up off the couch, pulled on your sweater, and stood above Frankie, gently rocking back and forth, rubbing your belly.

“Baby... your belly’s bigger than mine right now.”, you smiled, nudging his lovehandle gently with your foot and noted the wet patch on the crotch of his sweatpants. You grinned, knowing exactly what that was.

He lifted his head and looked at his swollen middle and dropped it back down again. “Fuck, I’m full.”, he groaned and closed his eyes.

“I’d get on the floor and give you a belly rub, but...”, you grinned, motioning to your baby bump. “We both don’t need to be stuck on the down there.”

Frankie huffed a laugh, his eyes opening as he looked up at you. “How are your boobs?”

“Much better, thank you.”, you chuckle, as he struggles to lug himself upright.

Once he stands up, you can see his back arching to accommodate the weight in his belly. You reach forward and rub his tummy and smile.

“Kinda over did it, huh?”, you asked, giving him a pat and leaning towards him to press a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”, he murmured as smiled and splayed his hand on your belly, feeling your little one moving around.

“So, you came in your pants, huh?”, you said pointedly with an eyebrow raised.

He huffed a laugh, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and pulled you to his side. “Yeah... I came in my fucking pants.”

“Sucking on my tits was so good that you came in your pants? You kinky bastard...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... ”, he grinned, nudging you towards the bedroom and swatting at your backside.

You stopped and grinned, biting your lower lip, as you felt his belly press into your back, and he wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Watch your mouth... carrying my baby can only save you from so much, Mama.”, he growled into your ear as he guided you down the hallway and int your bedroom.

--------<3---------

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #you ask beefro answers #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#🥩#the catfish & the mouse one shot #friend of beefro

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juiles · 2 years ago

Text

My world in my arms

Summary: just a pure fluff shot with accidently (but happy) ScarLizzie in it. You finish set early while filming Black Widow with your mom and you go home to have a girls night.

Type: fluff, fluff and more fluff.

Age: 16

Triggers: a little mention of blood at first but other than that nothing.

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

Scarletts POV

I watched as y/n preformed the same stunt she had been doing for the last 5 years. I know she is golden at it but that can’t stop the nagging at my brain as she was raised on the platform. “Remember kid! Do the flip and land in Natasha’s pose then pull a Yelena and stand up shaking it off making a face.”

“Yeah I know Joe. I’ve only been doing this for the last 5 years.” She yelled out rolling her eyes shifting so only I could see her.

“Young lady!” I yelled out making her cover her mouth with a little smirk chuckling. The Russo brothers called out action and she did her normal flip however before she could land today, her hand slipped and got trapped against her harness so when she went to catch herself, she stumbled forward and smashed her face against a prop rock. Her body was shaking and she wasn’t moving which scared me, making both me and Lizzie (who had joined us on set today) ran over to her but before we could get very far, her head popped up and she was laughing.

“You little shit!” I called out plopping down beside her pulling her chin up to face me.

“Your nose is bleeding dumbass.” Lizzie said casually sitting on her other side. “Y/n are you ever going to not be clumsy?” She asked raising an eyebrow making me let out a bark of a laugh making both of them turn to face me. “What?”

“You can’t say shit about being clumsy Elizabeth Olsen.” I motioned to her before she blushed slightly and rolled her eyes. The medic sat down in front of y/n and did a quick check on her nose telling us she can clean off the blood and she’ll be fine.

“Hear that mom?” She smirked over at me as the medic handed me pack of wipes. “What! No! I can clean my own face! Mommy!!!!!!!” She whined crossing her arms with a pout.

“Clearly not.” I said motioning to her current position. “Also, you still got hurt and I’m still your mama. I will always clean you up when you get hurt.” That made Lizzie coo and my daughter blush under the wipe that I was currently using to clean up her blood.

“Mama….” She whined as I hit her nose softly by accident. “That hurt…”

“Almost done baby…” I cooed placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Once she’s cleaned and changed out of her costume I think you two should take the day off. We’ll get the suit drycleaned and ready for tomorrow morning to try that shot again.” Joe said crouching down in front of my 16 year old. “That trick has been done a million times kid. What got you today?”

“My hand caught on the wire… I guess I’m just tired…” She shrugged. “Finals are kicking me in the ass.”

“Language.” I said as I pulled away shoving all the wipes into a bag that an assistant had handed me.

“Alright Capsicle.” She said casually as she stood up from her position without missing a beat.

“You know what Romanoff?” I said with a smirk making her give me an identical smirk back.

Lizzie and Joe who were used to our antics merely rolled their eyes shaking their heads. “Alright mama. I’m gonna change then I’ll meet you at the car?” I nodded and she turned to run off before she stopped and turned to face us with a grin. “We get to see Rosie earlier than expected!!!! We can have a girls night!!!” She squealed before running off.

I laughed shaking my head before turning to talk to Joe about the last minute changes then turned to grab my purse from my seat. Lizzie walking beside me. “You joining us for a girls night?” I ask searching through my nag for my keys.

“You sure?” Lizzie asked hesitantly.

I just laughed shaking my head. “Duh. Rose would love to have her Lizzie there. Itll be a proper girls night.” I said making Lizzie’s face break into a giant grin and she nodded quickly. “I would love to!!”

We walked towards the car and before we even got to touch the door handle we hear a voice calling out. “Mama!!” My daughter called out skipping towards me. “Can Lizzie join us? And can we stop at Target and get snaaaaaaaaaaacks?? I have my wallet.” She pulled her wallet out of her pants pickets with a shit eating grin on her face. I laughed nodding.

“I already invited Lizzie, I figured you and Rose would want her there. Of course we can stop at the store bubba.” My kid flung the back door opened and climbed in before grabbing the aux cord and plugged her phone in. “Lets goo. Car ride with the best DJ!” She said dancing a little. I laughed getting in the drivers seat as Lizzie slid into the passenger seat. I started the car and backed out of the set. I drove on to the highway and made my way towards the exit that’s got the Target closest to our house and my kid started playing music.

She put on what she claims to be her “Feel Good Songs” playlist which contains a bunch of upbeat songs from the 2000’s and earlier. My kid has good music taste and I’m quite proud of her. As we pulled into target, we all got out putting baseball caps and sunglasses on before making our way towards the store and once inside, we made our way to the snack aisle and before I could say a word, y/n was already digging through a pile of candy bags before pulling out a bag and holding it up with a grin.

“I found them mama!” She declared, her green eyes seeming to shine. “I found the Mike and Ikes!” Can we get some M&M’s too?” She asked with the biggest pout on her face. I only laughed and shook my head before nodding.

“Yes bubs. Pick out your m&m’s.” I motioned to the chocolate section and she instantly turned around. Lizzie and I quickly grabbed what we wanted before the three of us moved to the aisle with the chips and the pop. We all grabbed what we wanted, y/n picking out Roses as well as the two would happily share the candy and chocolate.

We walked to the till but something caught y/n’s eye making her stop, turning to look at it making me stop and eye what it is. “Something you like there bubba?” She bit her lip before glancing down at the treats in her hand before she shook her head and looked up at me with a small smile.

“I’m good mama. Shall we go get our treats and go have our girls night?” She said before walking towards the till again. I turned and my eyes landed on what she was looking at. A black marvel blanket, but this one was different, it had my symbol, but it also had the Scarlett Witch symbol and her characters. That was it, just the three of us, something that we never saw.

I grabbed it with a small smirk and made my way to the tills, we all scanned our items before I scanned the blanket, y/n’s eyes widening. “Wait. But it was like 80 bucks! I couldn’t ask for that! The treats are enough mama.” She said with a soft but sad smile.

“I’m buying it bub. I can see why you like it and its massive, we can all cuddle under it tonight before it moves to your room.” Her face lit up and she threw herself into my arms repeating thank you over and over again.

I laughed and placed a kiss on her forehead and paid the items before we all walked back towards the car, luckily we weren’t noticed at all so we we’re able to get in the car and head home. We pulled into the house, y/n ran inside after grabbing her bag, the bag with her and Rose’s treats and the blanket. I got inside after grabbing my belongings and locking the car. Liz grabbed her stuff and as we got inside I thanked the babysitter, paid her and made sure her car was safely out of the driveway.

I hadn’t been greeted by my youngest yet I knew she was okay because I heard her squeals in the living room along with my eldest and Lizzies. I walked in and plopped down next to my youngest who was staring at the blanket in awe. I coughed slightly making her turn to face me and squaled. “MAMA!!” She threw herself into my arms and I laughed hugging her tightly. “Y/n/n said we’re gonna have a girls night!” She said bouncing after pulling away.

I laughed and nodded with a grin. “Y/n/n got a little hurt on set so Joe let us go early so we decided to have a girls night!”

After that we all settled down beside each other, y/n sitting between me and Lizzie, Rose cuddled up onto her lap. I pulled out snacks and we all dug in after Lizzie pulled the new blanket over the four of us. Y/n turned on Disney+ and turned on The Little Mermaid, knowing it was Rose’s favourite making the younger girl squeal. I laughed and we all settled in for the night.

After plenty of junk and a few Disney movies I looked around and noticed all three of the girls around me asleep. I just smiled softly, placing soft kisses on all their heads and turned the tv off before settling in. Loving my world in my arms.

#scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x teen!reader #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x daughter!reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x platonic!reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #scarlizzie #Scarlett x Elizabeth #Scarlett Johansson x Elizabeth Olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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miyuhpapayuh · 2 years ago

Text

13. Blur

3:45 a.m.

Stumbling into the dark house, Stevie's warm body is pushed up against the door, closing it in the process. Rod's lips capture hers, while he pulls her up on his waist.

With the many, many shots of Hennessy in their systems, their sexual tension is skyrocketing.

Stevie roughly unbuttons his shirt, while he moves away from the door towards the stairs, practically rushing up them.

Walking inside and kicking the door closed, they both fall back onto the bed, tearing at each other's clothes, becoming naked in no time.

"I want you so bad," Rod whispers into her ear, making her shiver.

She wraps a leg around his hip, pulling him closer to her heat.

"Take me."

His rough hands find the back of her thighs, pulling them apart to give him a view of her arousal.

She drags a hand down her body, rubbing circles around her clit with her index finger.

He swats it away, replacing it with his own. Her head finds its resting spot on her pillows, soaking up the feeling.

Pushing two fingers into her wetness, he watches her face scrunch up. Plunging them in and out of her, he lets his lips linger over hers.

"Oh shit, baby!" One hand grips the one between her legs and the other grabs the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her face.

"Fuck me— p-please! Fuck me!" He continues to dig into her, sending her eyes to the back of her head, her moans increasing.

"You want me to dig in that pussy?" He asks. Stevie nods, unable to do anything but moan. He smirks.

"Gotta answer me, baby." She grips his hand tighter.

"Please— please!"

Pulling his fingers away from her, her eyes snap open and a pout forms on her dark ruby stained lips.

"Get on your knees, baby." Immediately assuming the position, she puts a deep arch in her back to show off her slick folds.

Wasting no time putting the condom on, he stuffs himself inside of her. Stevie's mouth flies open, letting anyone within earshot know how she's feeling.

"Oh— shit! That feels so good," his hand grips the front of her throat, turning her on even more as he thrusts into her.

"Mm... keep grippin' me just like that." Her body hunches from its arched position, her walls grippin' tight.

"I— fuck! It's so damn good! Ohh my goodness," Stevie whines, gripping his thigh.

"You tappin' out on me, mama?" His hand on her throat reaches up to cup her chin, pulling her to somewhat face him as he leans over her.

"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!"

Speeding his strokes up, Rod places his lips on her ear.

"Cum for me, baby… mm, you feel so damn good... ah shhhit." By the end of his teasing, she explodes onto him.

Her body begins to shake as he moves her to back, while her legs rest on his waist.

She drags her finger down the side of his length, earning a grunt from him.

"Gimme more, baby." Her delicate hand wraps around his length, pulling him closer to her throbbing core.

He slides back inside of her, immediately stiffening his movements and tossing his head back. Her eyes stay glued to him as her walls slick even more.

She leans up on her elbows and brings her hips back and forth onto him. His left hand grips her hip.

"Mm... does that feel good?" His other hand comes down on her ass, causing her to clench around him.

"Fuuuckk yes... keep goin'." Her pace increases and she's slamming down on him, while he continuously smacks her ass.

"Shit... come here." Pulling her up on his waist, she straddles him and starts bouncing, sending his eyes to the back of his head.

"Mm, feels so fucking good!" She digs her nails into his shoulders, beginning to grind on him.

"Fuck... grip that shit, girl." Stevie's back arches, while her velvety walls suck him up.

His rough hands grip her waist, slowing down her movements. He pulls her closer to him, nipping at her sensitive chest.

Stevie's moans increase as she feels her second orgasm approaching quickly. She cradles his head as she begins to rock a little faster.

"I'm gonna cum," his lips move up to her neck, sucking on her sweet spot.

"You gon cum all over this dick?" She throws her head back, clenching at his tone.

"Fuuuck yes! I'm so c-close!" He tightens his grip on her waist, before thrusting upward into her.

Her moans turn into sharp breaths. Her eyes screw shut and her body spasms.

"I'm cumming! Ohhh shhhhit!" She tries to lift up but he slams her back down, ultimately setting her off.

Placing her back on her back, he pulls her leg up on his shoulder and digs into her at a deeper angle.

With her eyes still shut, she pulls him down for a sloppy kiss, smothering her moans. She feels him begin to swell inside of her.

Pulling away from his lips, she opens her eyes and drapes one hand over his shoulder, while the other cups his chin.

"Cum, baby.... I feel it," she trails kisses along his neck, feeling him stiffen and release inside the condom.

She repeatedly kisses his neck, feeling him pull her closer to his heated body.

"I love you.... I love you," she drifts off into dreamland, still mumbling that same statement.

The bright sun shines down on them, pulling a groggy Stevie from her slumber. Rod, still halfway unconscious, pulls her closer to him.

She snuggles underneath him, until her bladder awakens and threatens to empty itself onto her sheets. She removes his arm from around her waist and rushes across the hall.

"Oh man... What the hell happened last night?" Flushing and washing her hands, she stares at her reflection.

Her, once bone straight hair, is now a frizzy mess. Her neck and chest are littered in various shades of red and purple hickeys, and her skin has a dewy glow to it.

"Hm," heading back into her bedroom, she grabs a big T-shirt to throw on, climbs back into her bed and lays her head back on Rod's chest.

He groans and runs his hand up and down her back. She looks up and sees his eyes are still closed.

"Are you awake?" He nods, briefly opening his eyes to look down at her.

"Yeah... my head hurts." She sits up and grabs the tiny bottle of aspirin off her nightstand and stands back up.

"I'll be back," he pulls the covers away from his waist and stands up, scanning the floor for his boxers.

"Nah, I'll go get it babe." Stevie's eyes fall to his uncovered lower half as she absentmindedly licks her lips.

Finding them, he slips them on and turns his attention back to her, chuckling once he sees the look on her face.

"Last night wasn't enough for you, huh?" Snatching her gaze up to his face, her eyebrows lift in agreement before she returns to her spot on the bed.

He makes his way out into the hall, before mumbling that she's 'something else'. She giggles, catching it.

Her phone starts ringing. Grabbing it from the nightstand, she answers it.

"Hel—"

"Stevie, just listen okay? I'm freaking out. Tasha's literally a vegetable and I ran out and ended up at Aaron's. Listen— anything that I've ever done wrong... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry — I know I've been saying that a lot, lately. I feel like the odds are against me. I don't mean to sound like I'm asking for pity, because I'm really not... I ... I just wish I was smarter. I wish I used my damn common sense, more often. I don't know."

"Tyler, you like running away from everything. That's your problem. Every time something gets a little shaky or goes haywire, you jump ship! How do you expect to grow as a person, if you can't face any type of discomfort? That's not healthy. Stop doing that. Go back to the hospital and be with your family, girl. Aaron ain't the person that you need to be around, at all."

"I know," she rolls her eyes.

"So, get your ass up and go!" Tyler huffs and Stevie hears shuffling, before she speaks again.

"O-okay, I'm going." The crack in Tyler's voice tugs on her heart.

"It's okay to be scared, ty. But, you gotta be there for her. She needs you. She's gonna be okay. I send my love and prayers to you guys. I love you."

"Thank you. I love you, too." Tyler hangs up and Stevie says a silent prayer for Tasha.

"Everything alright?" Rod comes back into the room with a half empty water bottle, sitting back on the bed.

"Yeah... Tyler's cousin isn't doing too good and I had to talk her off the ledge, again." His brows furrow.

"Literally?" She shakes her head, causing him to let out a breath.

"Metaphorically— well, I've actually had to talk her down from a ledge, one time. She wasn't gonna jump or anything. She was drunk and was being her normal stupid self. I grabbed her just in time, too." Rod shakes his head.

"Wow. Y'all been through some shit, huh?" Stevie nods, before staring down at her chipped nail polish.

"We didn't drive or anything, last night, did we?" She asks.

"Nah, we walked to the bar. That's the only thing I do remember, besides us having sex." Stevie snorts.

"What?" Rod asks, amused at her choice of response.

"That's some wild shit. I've gotten blackout drunk, twice, in less than a couple months."

"All newly legal people experience it. It's normal."

"Yeah, well I think I'm good, for a while. My liver is screaming at me." Rod chuckles and pulls her into his lap.

"There's other ways to be lifted, you know." He wiggles his eyebrows, making her laugh.

"Oh, I know. You and that crazy ass best friend of mine introduced me to it."

His eyes trail over to the clock and he groans, pulling Stevie closer to him. Her lips flatten into a line as she caresses his thigh with the tips of her nails.

"Therapy?"

"Mhm."

"You'll be okay, I promise."

"I know. I just don't feel like it, today." Stevie turns in his hold and pokes her bottom lip out.

"Want me to go with you?"

"You don't have to, baby. Plus, you'd be sitting in the waiting room for however long."

"I don't mind, really. It'd be different scenery than the house, that's for sure." She gives a slight smile.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yeah! If I get bored, I'll go into town and do some shopping or whatever."

"Aight. I guess I'll head home and shower." Rod readjusts Stevie on his lap and places his chin on her shoulder. She laughs and tries pulling his hands apart so she can get up.

"You do know that involves you actually getting up, right?" He sighs, again. Releasing his grip on her, she stands up and pulls him up, as well.

"Come on, babe. You said your therapist was cool, right?" He nods, dragging his feet across her rug.

"Then what's the issue?"

"I don't know. I'm just not in the mood." Pulling his jeans and T-shirt back on, Stevie leans against her dresser and frowns.

"You wanna reschedule it?"

"Nah," he pulls his sneakers on and walks up to her, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. "I'm gonna go. It'll be fine."

Stevie pulls on a pair of shorts, grabs her jacket and slides her feet into her slippers, heading behind Rod downstairs.

The drive to his house is quiet, besides the radio playing lowly throughout the car. Rod grabs Stevie's right hand and kisses the back of it, repeatedly.

"I love you." He says, rubbing his cheek against her hand. She glances at him, then back at the road.

"I love you, too."

"I just want you to know that. Never forget that, okay?"

"I won't, babe. I promise."

Stevie sits down in the hardback chair and watches him pull his hood away from his head.

"Alright, I won't be here for more than an hour." He leans down and kisses her forehead and lips, smiling against them as her fingers find the drawstring on his jacket.

"I'll be here waiting for you, babe. Have a good session." Kissing her again, he stands up straight.

"I'll try. I love you."

"I love you, more." He turns around and walks through the door, leaving Stevie to gaze up at the television that's playing a rerun of Sister, Sister.

Back through the door, Rod sits in the plush chair across from his therapist, Jamie. He'd handpicked her for several reasons. She's black, she's not overbearing, she's patient and she gives off an older sister vibe.

"In the month that you've been here, I've definitely seen an improvement. But it's also important that you see one, as well." Jamie says.

"I do." Rod says, flatly. Jamie peers over round metal glasses, intently.

"What's going on?"

"I guess I'm just not in the mood, today." His shoulders slouch a bit.

"How come?"

"It's Rodney's birthday and I'm just in a funk. You know about the lack of a relationship that we have and the stupid ass note that he gave my mom to give to me... I hate him. I hate him, cause I feel like I shouldn't."

"The note focused on him blaming your mother for filling your head with a negative image of your father, correct?" He nods.

"Has he proven it to be false?"

"Nah. We ran into him and it was a fucking mess— excuse me, but it was. How can you demand respect from someone that you haven't ever helped parent? You can't. It's sad cause I felt like Stevie was gonna look at me like some fool, after we got into it." He frowns, fixating his stare on the black and white pattern on the wall behind her head.

"I definitely wanna touch on your relationship with her— but, let me ask you this. Do you feel like if he was at least trying to be a good person, you'd feel differently?"

"I'd be less angry, maybe. But, he'd still be that same man that abandoned me, whether he's 'trying' or not. That's not enough."

Jamie pushes her frames up on her nose and sighs. "The void that you have is one that's so common and it's honestly alarming, how many black men grow up without a father in the house."

"I think I turned out, just fine. I don't need him."

"You need guidance, Roderick. You're still very young and this displaced anger needs to be put under control—"

"Isn't that why I'm here?" He asks, growing agitated.

"Yes, that's exactly why you're here. I know there will be days where it's hard and you really don't wanna talk to me, but if I can help you, you gotta let me do that. There's nothing wrong with going to therapy. There's something wrong with pretending like you don't have reasons for being here. None of us are perfect. We're all banged up, out here." With an aloof expression, his eyes meet hers.

"You wanna talk about Stevie, now?" The right corner of his lip turns up with little effort. Jamie softly chuckles.

"That girl is my world— next to mama, of course. She's so understanding and patient. I never had someone care about me, the way she does. She makes me wanna put in the effort and be comfortable with who I am. She's seen the sides of me that I tell you about. I get in these modes and she brings me back down to zero, instantly." The twinkle in his eyes shines brighter than the ray of sunlight peeking through the window.

"Do you love her?"

"I really do. I'd be a fool if I didn't. I'd go to hell and back for her. She's the one that got me here. She cared enough to tell me what was up and of course, I protested, but it's one of the smartest decisions I've made. It was either this or smoke my life away." Jamie nods.

"She sounds like quite the girl."

"She's my earth angel."

Walking back through the door, Rod snorts at the sight of a sleeping Stevie, curled up into a ball in her chair. Softly shaking her shoulder, he carefully picks her up and heads towards the exit. The receptionist gives a soft sigh, causing him to turn in her direction.

"You two are adorable." He smiles.

"Thanks, Charlie. I'll see you in two weeks."

"I'll be here. Have a good day." He nods and pushes the door open, carefully treading down the sidewalk to his car.

"Babe," Stevie's head raises up from his shoulder, just to turn in the opposite direction. He laughs and pats her backside.

"Come on, babe. I know you're hungry." He leans against the hood of the car.

"How do you know that?" She mumbles, reaching up to rub her eye.

"Cause, I know you. There's a new breakfast place a little ways away. I heard it's good, if you wanna take the drive."

Eventually stepping onto the sidewalk, Stevie stretches her arms above her head and yawns, shamelessly.

"How far away is it?"

"A good thirty minutes. You could take another nap." He unlocks the doors to his car and they get inside.

"No, I wanna hear about your session. That's if you wanna tell me about it." Stevie says, pulling her legs up in the seat.

Starting the car up, Rod pulls out of the parking lot and looks over at her.

"It'll bore you, babe."

"Try me." He sighs and starts driving.

"Okay... today's Rodney's birthday and I'm just irritated. Of course, it's the same shit every year, but seeing him and having him put his hands on me, it just makes it worse." Stevie frowns and reaches for the hand that's rested on his leg, intertwining their fingers.

"I'm sorry... you don't still feel like that was your fault, do you?"

"No, I know it wasn't. I just wish that I could erase him from my brain. He doesn't belong there— or anywhere near me, for that matter."

"Does your mom know?"

He shakes his head. "She doesn't even know what was in the letter. She'd honestly hunt him down and kill him. I don't give a damn about him, but I don't want her going to prison."

"Hey, no face no case." Stevie says, shrugging her shoulders.

"I guess that's who I get it from, huh?" He smirks and squeezes her hand.

She laughs, softly. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, like that's news."

"Shut up, Roderick." He laughs.

"But, seriously.... it's okay to be angry, cause that's how you feel. It just matters what you do when those feelings come up."

"You're my second therapist, huh?"

"No. I'm your first." Untangling their hands, she reaches forward and turns the radio on. Pulling the elastic band from her hair, she slides it onto her wrist and runs her fingers through her frizzy curls.

"Ooh, I love this song!" Turning the volume up, she bops her head along to the beat of Candy Rain.

"Myyy love, do you ever dreeeam of candy coated raaaain drops? You're the same, my candy rain!" She pokes Rod in his cheek, watching the kid like smile appear.

"Have you ever loved someone, so much you thought you'd die?"

"Yes." Rod interjects, making Stevie giggle.

"Giving so much of yourself, it seems the only way. Tell me what you want and I, and I will give it to youuu! Cause you are— my love!" She leans over and plants a bunch of wet kisses on his face.

"Is it safe to label this our song?" He turns his head to quickly give her a kiss.

"You gotta learn the words, first. Then, we can call it our song." She lays her head on his arm and plays with his fingers.

"I better start practicing then, huh?"

"That's a good idea." She softly yawns and slides down in her seat.

"You goin' back to sleep on me?"

"You want me to stay up?" She looks up at him.

Coming to a red light, he stares down at her tired eyes. Pushing a curl behind her ear, he smiles and shakes his head.

"Nah. Go to sleep, babygirl." He leans down and kisses her nose, then her lips.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Pulling up to the black brick building, Rod parks and turns the car off, glancing over at Stevie, who's now laying up against the door. He chuckles and unbuckles her seatbelt, carefully pulling it around her.

"We're here, vie." Placing a hand over her face, she yawns and sits up, letting her hair crowd around her face.

"Can you do me a favor?" She asks, pushing her hair away from her face and looking over at him, now.

"Of course." She pulls the ponytail holder off her wrist and hands it to him.

"Can you redo my bun for me?" He nods, before mirroring her goofy expression. She turns around in her seat and lets him quickly pull her hair up into a sloppy, yet cute bun on top of her head.

"Thanks, babe." He kisses her clothed shoulder and they get out of the car. Grabbing her hand, they walk down the sidewalk and he holds the door open for her.

The pair are immediately greeted by an older black woman with a huge grey puff on top of her head. Her natural scowl turns into a 'light up the room' smile, at the sight of the two.

"Aren't you two the cutest! Dinin' in?"

"Yes ma'am." Rod speaks up. He looks closely at her name plate. Olivia.

Grabbing two menus, she leads the way to the middle of the small, but cozy restaurant. They sit on the same side of the booth, Stevie by the window and rod on the outside.

"We've got a couple specials. Cinnamon waffles with two sides, biscuits and sausage gravy and, shrimp and grits. All twelve fifty. Your server will be out, shortly." Olivia says, before sitting their menus in front of them.

"Thank you." They say in unison.

"You're welcome, babies." She walks away and stands back behind the counter. She messes with the napkin dispenser and hums a laugh.

"What's funny?"

"We're in a place called Hole in the Wall. It's funny, cause I expected something terrible." Rod holds his chest, dramatically.

"You think I'd take you somewhere dangerous?"

"Not purposely," she laughs, "but, they say those dangerous spots have the best food."

"It's true," they look up at their waiter, Keith. "I once went to a chicken spot and a whole fight broke out as I was ordering. I believe someone got stabbed." Stevie's eyes grow wide.

"Was the chicken good?" Rod asks.

"It was bangin' my brotha. I haven't been back, since." The three of them laugh.

"Why not?" Stevie asks.

"That's every once in a blue moon, over my dead not so dead body, type of situation. I can't be sacrificing myself like that, no matter how good that chicken was..... man it was good— but anyway, what can I get y'all to drink?"

"I'll take a water with lemon."

"I'll have the same." Keith nods.

"Y'all ready to order or do you need a minute?"

"Give us some more time, yeah." He nods and heads back into the kitchen.

"That muhfucka sounds like he got a permanent cold." Stevie slaps his arm.

"You're so rude." She laughs and turns her gaze towards the window.

"Aye, I ain't lyin' though." She shakes her head. He throws his arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side.

"Annoying."

"You love me."

"That's debatable." Rod sucks his teeth as soon as the waiter reappears with their drinks, causing him to shake his head.

"Y'all ready, now?"

"Yeah," Stevie says, "let me get the shrimp and grits."

"Alright. For you, sir?"

"I'll take the cinnamon waffles."

"What's your two sides?"

"Eggs and bacon."

"Alright. It'll be out in twenty minutes." Grabbing the menus off the table, he heads back into the kitchen.

"You're squeezing me."

"I know." Stevie sucks her teeth and thumps his knuckles, making him release his tight hold on her.

"You'nt want me to love on you?"

"Boy, please. If squeezing my rib cage is lovin' on me, I don't want it."

She says with a snort. A brief glare is what she gets in return, but it soon softens.

"I'll be gentle." She giggles at his doe eyed expression and slides back into his softer embrace. He presses his cheek against her forehead.

"I could stay like this." Stevie admits.

"Forever?" Rod asks, rubbing circles on her shoulder.

"Yeah, why not?"

"That puts a lot of pressure on me." He laughs. "Me being your first— everything, you know?"

"Well, you haven't disappointed me, yet." She looks up at him.

"I don't plan on it, I promise." He kisses her. "How are you so sure about this, though?"

"You're the only person I see myself with. When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. That wasn't a 'for the moment' feeling."

"I've known you long enough to know, that you don't act on impulse."

"Well, we have been together for five months." She tugs on her bottom lip.

"It feels like forever, babygirl." That twinkle in his eyes returns, this time for her to witness it.

"Yeah... we're definitely getting married, one day." He raises an eyebrow.

"Staking you're claim, huh?"

"Damn right. Unless, you got somethin' to tell me." She stares at him, blankly.

He starts laughing. "Nope. You already know that this is where I wanna be."

"Mmhm. Is there anymore psycho ex girlfriends I should know about? Cause ima shoot em, this time."

"Nah... anymore stalkers I should know about? Cause, ima kill em in front of you, this time." Stevie covers his mouth, quickly.

"We're in public and you're openly and loudly admitting to murdering someone." She giggles, watching him shrug and pull her hand away.

"You know I don't give a fuck, when it comes to protecting you. Say the word and it's done."

"Jesus." She shakes her head at him.

"Hot plates comin' through." Their food is sat in front on them, carefully. The steam wafting off the food, carries the scent straight to her nostrils, causing her stomach to growl.

"Thank you." The waiter nods and heads back into the kitchen.

Stevie grabs her silverware off the table and pulls the spoon out of the napkin, immediately dipping it into the buttery grits, stirring it around to mix it with the shrimp, occasional pieces of andouille sausage and bacon.

"This better be good." She mumbles, before snapping her head in his direction, watching him obnoxiously chew his food.

"Why are you eating like that?" She chuckles and scrunches her face up.

"I'm hungry!" He mumbles with his hand over his mouth.

She rolls her eyes and puts her focus back on her own food.

@thegifstories @blackerthings @soufcakmistress @sheabuttahwrites @blackpinup22 @chaneajoyyy @cocoa-puffs @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @harmshake

#miyuhpapayuh #soulff #rod x stevie #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #smut #black writers #black!reader #joey badass fic #joey bada$$

62 notes · View notes

ninebluehearts · 2 years ago

Note

No idea if this has been done yet or not, but maybe Agent Whiskey with a single mom? Also love your work!

I'm gonna scream- THIS IS PERFECT ANON!!!

And thank you baby 🥺💗

Part 2 part 3

18+

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

"Shit!" Your alarm blared throughout your bedroom, waking both you and your boyfriend. "You've gotta go!" You whisper yelled, pushing his shoulder before jumping up to gather his clothes from the night before.

Whiskey was only supposed to come over for a quick hook-up, but both of you were just so tired, and he was so warm.. Needless to say, you both fell asleep.

Madeline, your nine-year-old daughter, didn't know about Whiskey yet. You wanted to introduce them, but there just never seemed to be a good time.

Whiskey flopped over onto his back, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched. "Darlin', we've been together for almost a year now. Don't you think it would just be easier to tell her?"

"We've talked about this Jack. I just don't think she's ready." You threw his clothes at him, hurrying into your closet to get yourself dressed.

Your daughter had never really had a father figure before and you honestly didn't know how she'd feel about having one. And if things didn't work out between you and Whiskey and you had to take that away from her? You just couldn't risk it until you were sure this was going to work.

"Yeah, two months ago. Listen, from the sounds of it, she'd want you to be happy."

"Yes, and I want her to be happy. I don't want to force her to like my boyfriend just for the sake of my own happiness. My Mother pulled that shit and I still resent her for it."

Whiskey finished buckling his belt, now walking over to hug you from behind as you buttoned your jeans. "This is different. We're not forcing her to do anything. I just don't wanna sneak around anymore." Whiskey pressed his lips against your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. "I wanna hold you in the mornings, mamas."

You bit your lip to hold back your gasp, pressing back into him. "No marks Jack."

Whiskey hummed, his hand slowly moving down your navel. "That's another thing. I wanna start markin' you up; showin' people who you belong to."

You hated that he was right. You wanted him to be wrong, but with his sweet, husky accent rumbling so close to your ear, you could say yes to anything in that moment. "I-"

"Mom? We're gonna be late!" Madeline knocked on your door, jiggling the locked handle.

Your eyes shot open. "Shit!" You hurried over and opened the door, just enough for you to see one another. "Goodmorning baby! Listen, can you please throw some bread in the toaster for me? I promise I'll be right down."

Madeline nodded, pushing the door open wide enough so she could give you a hug, before making her way downstairs.

You shut the door with a sigh, relief flooding throughout your body.

"This is ridiculous." Whiskey mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed before forcefully shoving his boots on.

You bit the nail on your thumb, trying to figure out a solution. "Alright, alright. What are you doing Saturday night?"

Whiskey raised his eyebrow. "Why? So, you can fuck me and then kick me out afterwards?"

"Okay, I deserve that." You walked over and sat next to him, reaching over to hold his hand. "It's Wednesday now. I promise that over the next few days I will tell Madeline about us, and then on Saturday we can all go out for dinner. Okay?"

"You promise? Because you've said that before.."

"Jack, her hamster died! I couldn't exactly tell her about you while she was mourning!"

"Fair enough." Whiskey said with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"I promise. I'll tell her."

Whiskey nodded, leaning his forehead against yours. "It's gonna be okay. You know that, right?"

You took in a shaky breath, squeezing his hand. "I know."

"Good. Now, I do have to get to work and that little one's gotta get to school, so you should probably go.."

"Oh shit! You're right. Okay." You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulling away when you stood up. "Saturday?"

Whiskey nodded. "Saturday."

You walked over and unlocked your door. "I love you." You said, turning around to smile at him.

"I love you too darlin'. "

"Mom! I think the toaster's on fire!" Madeline called from the kitchen.

You shook your head. "Coming!" You blew Whiskey a kiss before running downstairs, leaving him to wait in your bedroom until you managed to get yourself and Madeline out the door.

It was going to be difficult, but Whiskey and Madeline would get along, right? Both of them seemed to be trouble makers so..

God help you.

#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #thanks for the ask!!#agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x single mom reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x single mom reader #kingsmen #kingsmen golden circle #kingsmen golden circle fanficton #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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askrockandfriends · 11 months ago

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"Getting tired of being beat up, so you know what? I'm gonna beat someone else up... in the MWA ring!"

"Introducing first... the Ultimate Fashionista, the Queen of Despair... the one true Ultimate Despair to rule them all, Junko Enoshima!"

"Oooooooooooooooooo..."

"And... the portly plumber, Mr. Video, the... face of Nintendo and icon of gaming everywhere? Mario!"

"Hey, why'd you sound so unsure at that last part! It's-a me! ...Dipshit. "

"This is what I'm fighting? Some... bastardization of Mario? ...This'll be easier than I thought."

The bell rang and Mario looked at Junko and immediately began... dry humping her? Disgusted, Junko slapped Mario, threw him off, and kicked him and sent him flying into the corner!

"Mama F*@%er! You must die!" Junko was busy taunting and grandstanding the fans, and didn't see Mario get up and angrily charge her! The look of surprise on her face when she saw a fat Italian plumber running at her was something to behold. "I'm gonna kick your ass!" Mario punched and kicked Junko and sent her into the corner, grabbed her by the ankles and spun and threw her! He then hit her with a ground pound!

He punched, and punched, and then... quickly got winded, as his fatness got the better of him trying to do an activity as physically demanding as pro wrestling.

"Just a second... hoof... hoof... I'm-a tired..." Mario took a moment to catch his breath, allowing Junko to mount a comeback against him, which she did with a backhand and a kick, sending him on his back. "Maybe you should get a little exercise before trying this again, Tubby!" She taunted. Well... that set Mario off.

"Tubby? NOBODY CALLS ME TUBBY!" Mario quickly got back into it, hitting Junko with a sliding kick, throwing her again, ground pounding her, jumping off the ropes and trying to body slam her...

"Waluigi Launcher!" And... launching Waluigi at Junko (which somehow actually works). He them rushed Junko with fire in his eyes!

"I'LL END YOU! ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORARAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!" When Mario got to Junko, he unleashed a wild flurry of punches that'd make Star Platinum proud. Once he got Junko reeling, he pulled out a... lightsaber?

"Oh, is it lightsaber time? ...Good thing I came prepared! Junko then pulled out her own lightsaber and clashed with Mario in the middle of the ring. They both exchanged swings, they both exchanged strikes... it seemed neither could fully get the upper hand, and it would be an epic battle. That is, until Junko parried a swing and kicked Mario square in the crotch.

Mario looked as though he was going to cry after the crotch shot. Junko could only smile and laugh at this. "Aw, is the widdle pwumber gonna cry now? Don't wowwy, Junko wiww end dis as qwickwy as possibw-" Mario then grabbed Junko and glared coldly at her!

"You don't... f*@%... with Mario!" Mario then headbutted Junko, hit her with a shoryuken, another rush flurry, and sent her down with a kick. When Junko got up, she could only see a fat Italian rushing at her with murder in his eyes.

"Aaaaaaa.... AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" As he rushed Junko, Mario went Super Saiyan and rush flurried her even harder! He drove his knee in her face, suplexed her, and hit her with a piledriver that visibly (via X-ray) shattered her neck. Mario then climbed up to the top rope. "This is the end for you! Finishing move!" Mario then jumped off the rope and flew at Junko with all the grace that a fat Italian can muster... "Italian Thunderfat!" Mario slammed down on Junko with the force of an atomic bomb and nuked her, the ring, and the surrounding area with a massive explosion! Though the force knocked both of them out, the move did cause Mario to end up on top of Junko, which was enough for a cover. 1... 2... 3!

"Uh... wow... I have never seen a match quite like that! I... I can hardly believe the results!"

"Hm?" Mario came to in time to hear the winner announced.

"I mean... the winner is Mario! Give it up for SMG4!Mario!"

"Yeah! Hahaha!" Mario celebrated in the ring as confetti dropped from above!

Meanwhile, the Nintendo version of Mario watched on, unamused by this parody version of himself.

WINNER: Mario (@ask-the-smg4-crew)

#mwa rp #muse: junko #muse: mario #muse: mettaton #guest: smg4!mario

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perkvpsvcho · 1 year ago

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cr c2 ep9

lucky bitch.

os ads do sam são hilários, pqp

acho que é esse o ep em que a laura berra irada I'M PREGNANT enquanto sai da mesa? lmao

feeling sad. good thing i have cr right

look at them cheating as a team, so wholesome

laura being competitive IS SO FUNNY

unpleasant one & obnoxious one

MARISHA E TALIESIN SE COMPLEMENTANDO AO BATEREM NA PORTA SOS THIS IS A REAL FAMILY

fjord master class in charisma - student: beauregard

HE SAID ENTHUSIASM!

kkkkkkkkkkkk dois botões, Nott!!

a focus ford

a tiny little fiesta

nott disfarçada de fjord TEM QUE TER NA ANIMAÇÃO

YAAAAAY MY BABY HAS ARRIVED and yasha is just there, in a hot tub, looking all cool as usual sigh so hot

[jester asking about molly's tattoos] what about the Prince Albert? KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

aw she's so sleepy poor baby

poor ashley whatever she goes is body tattoos [blindspot oi]

same, beau/marisha. same [thirsting over naked yasha]

we made 60 gold in 3 days nott: I STOLE 2 BUTTONS! yasha: oh... how nice... travis losing it:

it makes me sad that yasha doesn't count herself as part of the team, she keeps saying you and stuff, not being included ): SHE'S A MIGHTY NEIN TOO

OH OH OH THATS RIGHT YASHA IS A BARBARIAN AND ASHLEY STILL HAS NOT HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO START WITH HER CUTE LITTLE I WOULD LIKE TO RAGE omg i'm gonna die evey time she's so freaking adorable

NOT NOTT LEARNING HOW TO SWIM LIKE A DOG FOR FUCKS SAKE LMFAO

the single most precious baby

THE ANNOYING MISTRESS..? THE KNOWING MISTRESS!

mds a yasha só não é pior que o caleb pq ela tenta kkkkkk cute baby

[yasha not feeling comfortable enough to talk about her religion] nott: we can see your vagina! dm:

AS A VICTIM OF CAMPAIGN ONE, IT HAS TO BE KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK yes everything is a milk bath

NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH ME

they go "hi" and "hi" to each other and taliesin whispers something to her and she comes close and they just

yasha: pretty spectacular that [the rucy of the sea] is your mother beau: she has her own single [LAURA SHAKING HER HEARD NO] KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK Ô CARALHO DE NOVO NAO

BEAU E FJORD MOM AND DAD DO GRUPO ENSINANDO A NOTT A MERGULHAR EU VOU MORRER DE AMOR

meanwhile nott volta debaixo d'água berrando que vai matar todo mundo

shoot your shot, beau

yasha: he [shakaste] called you baby a lot? beau: yeah i was kind of into it, i dind't feel demeaned by it. makes me feel good, makes me feel safe [no but same here pls]

gahd, it's good to see you [molly/taliesin pra yasha/ashley sou eu]

BEAUYASHA BOTH WAITING EVERY ONE TO GET OUT FIRST

askfjkfadkfkkkkdsjdsksksjaksjksk idiots]

laura: who gives up first? marisha: we're in hot tub chicken right now

yasha: i dont care to show anything, beau: NO? yasha: i just wanted to see everybody else naked first beau: it's kind of my thing ISTFG THESE TWO IDIOTS

yasha sai da água marisha pro dm: do i get a nice view? matt e ashley: yes PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN

hihihih fjord doesnt want to be away from jester is that i'm getting here????

UGGHHH JESTER I LOVE YOU

yasha socially awkward such a baby

aff ashley e esse pirulito enorme vou mmt

omg are they gonna fight? IS SHE GONNA RAGE???

yasha: i sense a little sarcasm in you, sir dmpc: it's a dwarven thing. i've got resting bitch voice

YOU PEOPLE HAVE LESS THAN 30 MINUTES TO LET ME HAVE ASHLEY SAYING I'D LIKE TO RAGE. DO NOT FUCK THIS UP

it's not happening, is it? i'm gonna be so sad

laura looks like a proud mama

YOU KICKED HIS CAT INTO OBLIVION!!! dm: i didn't

jester by herself is already the cutest, but when she talks to the traveler.... ugh. too much

matt: will be going to kentucky marisha:

AND ASHLEY WILL BE BACK ON THE NEXT EPISODE!!! 10000% CHANCE SHE'LL SAY I WOULD LIKE TO RAGE[

everything hurts and i'm dying but i want more ashley i want more yasha i want more mighty nein

#perkvpsvcho #ash watches c2

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squeiky · 4 years ago

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UNDERWILD- possible spoiler territory!(hehe) its just some info of Tori And flowey. Along with some character desgins i doodled.

Feel free to guess how UNDERWILD is gonna play out.

Heres a bit of info (not to spoilery) on how these characters are designed to be.

Ps: UNDERWILD is EXTREMLY and HEAVILY inspired by horror tale and underfell. So you'll be see alot of... Similar attributes, along with my own. Even the designs might look a bit similar, so dont go bashing on me okay? You've been warned.

Flowey-

kill or be killed motto, but cant decide on which one he wants to go with. He believes he's Leaning more towards "kill" but tbh, look at that freindly smirk, and teary eyes, messed up face and drooly leaves. Does he really look like a sadistic killer too you?. Yeah, flowey thinks he does. He thinks he looks just as crazy as every other monster does.

his LV doesn’t support his belief that he kills mercilessly. he can barely kill a child, neither less anyone else. (during his resets he did kill only a few monsters. regretted it alot.)

smug

due to papyrus’s encouraging words, he has a bit of confidence.

he almost always uses his creepy face. though, its not as scary as the other faces around the forest.

turqouise pupils.

on the left, is complelty ripped petels. on the right, is slighty wilty petals.

he alwasy has sad eyes with a big (fake) happy grin. (he’s not the happiest.)

his threats never get backed up.

hums his own theme song. and rocks a lullaby. but can’t sing other things. so he’s pretty much a hummerbird lullaby flower baby.

bruises/dirt/scratch marks on his cheeks and forehead

afraid of froggits. (will kill them on sight, if he fears for his life)

hes a impatient little brat.

not afraid to toss insults at you.

has a little goat like snoot. (a slight asriel apperance)

likes napstablook! by alot actually! and nice-cream! and pie! and chara! (platonically)

dislikes frogs, bees, bugs in general, sans, being a flower, and eggs. (no apparent reason, he just doesn’t like eggs. like a cat to cucumbers but flowey to.. egg...)

tried to eat froggit’s leg. honestly, he hangs around papyrus too much. he’s pretty sure he tried eating a mushroom too. and a snail. and a- im gonna stop there, or this list of weird things- FLOWEY DONT EAT DIRT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! NO STOP THAT!! - are never going to end. o and there he goes again

EXTREMEY curious. (almost reckless childlike curiousity)

Toriel-

i like to call her TORE-IEL hehe.

Her robe/dress is all torn up.. Her eyes have bags from the crying alone in her room.

a dirty red robe/dress, with a greyish sleeve. and a symbol in the middle.

extremely isolated. (literally locked up in her room like 24/7. alot worse than og toriel. similiar to horrortale’s toriel.)

“who’s sans?”

yellow-ish horns and teeth (has many rows of sharp teeth)

red eyes whites (pitch black pupils)

a tad bit hunched.

goat hooves!! and big old claws.

she isn’t such a good mom figure. she been so alone for so long.. a itte too long... she tries everything to keep frisk down there.

....”where is everybody?” they are hiding. from toriel. (in case she goes “wild”. and plus she’s powerful)

got that dragon breath yo. (fire breath, instead of flying flames.)

afraid of herself, because of that she is more distant to the children than a og toriel is. (she doesn’t even hold their hands :( )

“burnt pies anyone? or.... chocolate? or... we have some lettuce in the back you can eat. oh, yeah i see. your right, you can’t eat any of this, can you?” toriel is a bit... lacking in practice.

gives you a soft, weak smile.

she loves you, has trouble showing it.

sometimes drools when she stares at something too long. ( a cute little drool. not to excessive.)

a tad selfish.

q-questionable m-methods....

BOOKS FOR DAYS YAY!!! and facts about snails... she reads too fast.

on rare occasions, when she hiccups she might do a goat noise.

the worst jokes get her going, that is sad. like im talking worse than og sans’s. to the point of “why did the chicken cross the road? to get to the otherside!” makes her go absolutely high on laughter. instead of a petite giggle or a snort, she acts like she hadn’t heard that in a millennia.

“hi. umm.. greetings?.. hello?...goodday?” she hasn’t had a conversation in... awhile

“ugh, tori what are you saying?! your suppose to say-” she talks to herself in public. alot. calls herself nicknames too. (she likes her made up nicknames, like tortor or tori. or tutu. she even called her self butterscotch, or sweetpea. its a little weird with the nicknames.)

[Link to papyrus and sans info]

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saey707 · 2 years ago

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could i get sett x fighter!reader whos very nimble and quick on their feet? they fight a lot like jinx but without the guns. headcannons, drabbles, whatever you want!

✿ Prompt: You and Sett play fight ✿

♡ champion focus: sett ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hey anon, I was a little confused on this one... (◎_◎;) Hopefully I got this right, but hey, I hope you enjoy nonetheless! <3

“Oh come on~ Please?” Nudging your boyfriend’s arm, you trailed beside him, trying to keep pace. Though, this proved to be a challenge, considering he was much taller than you, with strides that definitely exceeded your own smaller steps. Without turning his attention to your pouty face, he continued to flip a coin in his hand. He wouldn’t let himself succumb to your mind games!

“It’s not like we’re really going to be fighting! We’re just doing it for fun!” You persisted.

Sett smirked, “For the last time. No. I ain’t gonna fight ya, darlin’!”

With a response like that, you huffed, crossing your arms with a coy grin making its way onto your smug little face: “Oh? Don’t tell me the boss is afraid to lose against lil’ ol’ me.” You taunted, Sett offering nothing more than a snort of haughty derision.

“I ain’t afraid ta lose to ya, darlin’.” “Then fight me!” Tilting his head up at your statement, he looked to the side.

Sett took an abrupt turn down a left corridor, stopping you in your tracks. With a skid in your step, you caught yourself before you could fall back. You raced beside him once more, taking note of the new direction you were taking with him. Definitely not the way to his luxury box...

“Where are we going?” You shot him a coquettish look, watching his cheeks flair up. Though, this was something only you were able to take note of. His beautifully sun-kissed skin had a certain way of covering up the embarrassingly red heat that brushed across his cheeks.

“I think ya know damn well where we’re headed, darlin’...”

As you and your boyfriend ventured your ways into the arena, he parted from your side, losing the familiar comfort of your heat.

You prowled a few steps before him, observing how he rolled his shoulders, watching you yourself excitedly jumping up and down, wiggling your arms to warm yourself up.

And as your fight began with the brute of a man, you wasted no time in starting off light, nimble even. You denied him to opportunity to count down, watching as he stumbled back a little, surprised by your eagerness to kickstart your “play fight”. The shots you threw his way were lightweight, enough to throw Sett off guard when he believed you were actually going to land a kick to his face.

But as the fight proceeded, the more frustrated you grew. Sett dodged and whipped his body every which way to avoid your punches.

His own vows to you were partially to blame: So long as he was still standing, living, and breathing, he vowed to never lay a hand on you.

If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Sett, it was that he was far from willing to let the one’s he loves get hurt by his hand. And there were only two people that fit such a category: His mama and you.

“Come on, hit me!” You complained, “...Or at least let me hit you!” You added. A chuckle followed, Sett shaking his head as you proceeded in throwing wild, exhausting kicks and punches his way, your initial excitement and intensity fading with each and every punch you threw. “I ain’t layin’ a finger on you!” He exclaimed.

You yelled, throwing your fist at him, Sett catching it in his hand as you sighed heavily, struggling to free your hand from his grasp.

“Seeeettt, let go, this is cheating!” “Not in pit fightin’ it ain’t, baby.” You growled, feet digging into the dirt as you continued to try and pry your hand from his grasp.

“You done?” He asked calmly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, noticing the irritated look in your eye. Sett knew he was really in the bag now; Not fighting back, but because he was bold enough to make such a comment.

Still, he didn’t throw one punch, watching you meekly toss up your other fist, Sett catching it with ease.

His eyes softened as you nodded your head:

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” You grumbled.

Blowing air from his nose, the half-Vastayan pressed his lips to your forehead, “You got guts. I’ll give ya that much.” He spoke sincerely, watching your eyes light up as you held his hands.

Oh Sett knows that look alright...

“So you’ll let me try out to be one of your contenders?!

#saeybaewrites #request #short #sett #sett lol #sett lol x reader #sett league of legends #sett x reader #sett league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader #x reader

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ajaxsbeloved · 3 years ago

Text

cue the music! 🍵

order for: childe

flavor: smut (full fic; modern idol au)

order summary: performing at the MAMAs was a big deal but an even bigger deal is what comes after

warnings: long as fuck, female reader, she/her pronouns, plot lol, childe is so fucking hot holy jesus, ok sorry back to actual warnings,fingering, hickeys, references to that one video of doja cat winking to someone in the audience (iykyk), this is kpop idol au btw so you can tell i'm a kpop fan lol, right sexual warnings uhhh, size kink, kinda messy sex, dumbification, cumming inside,cockwarming, and kissing kink (game idea take a shot everytime he kisses you Imao)

the yearly mnet asian music awards were coming up and you were scheduled to perform, being the biggest girl group of the year it was no surprise you were to attend and nearly everyone was anticipating your performance.

having an idol group with a sexy concept wasn’t original and didn't automatically mean that you were gonna make it big, but your group was different. your group was known for pulling off sexy on a whole different plane and so of course the hype for your performance was insane. almost everyone in the country knew your name and almost every one of your songs were a massive hit.

dckz were also attending the MAMAs this year, they too were known for being icons in the sexy concept however they weren't set to perform. it was a saddening announcement when the news was made but they were nominated so they had to attend. though they didn’t plan on performing they were given some of the best seats in the house to watch the other groups perform.

the arena was so exciting, all the bright lights and the sea of people had your blood pumping and ready to get out on stage. nothing quite for yoy roaring like the adrenaline from screaming your lungs into a mic and eventually it was time for your group to perform.

you were separated on the platforms,having three people on each. there were three total platforms, the main one having three of your group members and the other two having a single group member with two backup dancers. you were on the right platform, meaning it was just you and two backup dancers. the lights started out dark on all of them and the middle platform lit up first. the second platform lit up during the first verse and then your time came to shine at the prechorus.

the platform lit up and you felt the kick through your veins, normally you weren't the type to be super bold or confident but when you were performing everything else just faded away. pouring your heart onto the stage you sung with your whole chest and danced perfectly with all the hours of training having gone into toning your body. all of the hours of practice and lessons went to perfecting this moment and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

the chorus was when you all met together at the main platform, finally unified with your group members you continued to perform however today was different. you stood out, a lot. but in a good way! you seemed to charm everyone tonight as it was obvious in the way you moved that you were enjoying yourself, you weren't the group's center for nothing after all.

there was one person in particular however that you had charmed in an indescribable way, that person being dckz' lead singer and center known as childe. being in the front row seats of the main platform dckz had a perfect view of your group and childe was bewitched by the stage. he was mesmerized by you, everything from your voice to the way your hair was styled to the outfit you were wearing to your body movement. all the little details about you had him entranced and he just knew he'd have to talk to you after the award show.

he was enamored with you and it certainly didn't go unnoticed, the members of dckz were giggling like school girls at the way he looked at you though he couldn't hear them nor did he care. you too noticed his hungry eyes and truthfully you struggled to not stare at him too long, you were just as much enamored by him. his beautiful blue eyes and perfectly set ginger hair, you were stealth in observing the way he gulped every time you moved a certain way and dear god did you wanna mark up that pretty neck of his.

the music was nearing it’s end but you were having so much fun that you wanted to keep going, within the last few seconds of the song you decided you were be more than bold and send childe a daring wink knowing that he had his eyes on you. finally with that the lights went out and you headed backstage, thoughts flying a million miles an hour and a stupid grin sitting on your face.

childe couldn't believe it, you had just winked at him. if he weren't determined to talk to you before he most certainly was now, he was itching to get backstage already and practically jumped out of his chair when dckz were able to leave their section. his head was full of only you, thoughts all over the place he rushed to find you and ignored whatever else he was supposed to be doing.

he bumped into you in the hall, nearly knocking you over he noticed how much smaller you were in comparison to him. he also noticed how breathtaking you were up close and how you wore a slight blush on your face upon realizing who you had just met.

"o-oh... sorry i um i wasn't looking..."

you were avoiding eye contact and seemed to have trouble forming sentences. childe was surprised to see you like this, you weren't at all like the girl on stage who was confident and bold enough to send him a wink. though if anything he found this cute and now he only wanted you so much more.

"ahaha it's no problem, i liked your performance. it was really... really good."

"oh thank you... childe was it? i'm glad you liked it.."

you knew his name? i mean duh he's one of the most popular idols out there but you knew his name? he felt his face turn red, wait wait wait when did childe ever blush? just what were you doing to him? this couldn’t be normal!

"yeah of course... umm... do you maybe wanna ditch the award show? i mean like of course you don’t have to but you know…"

he was suddenly avoiding eye contact now too and you couldn't help but feel your insides and lower body grow warm at his presence. his awkwardness was adorable and that blush on his cheeks made you wanna just kiss him silly right then and there.

"god i thought you'd never ask"

you unintentionally spit your words out being thankful that he made the first move, though you don't regret speaking without thought when he grabs your wrist and drags you with him back to his apartment.

before you knew it clothes were being scattered on the floor and fits of giggles erupted between the two of you, you could barely keep your hands off each other once you made it through the door and you threw your jacket off the minute you stepped into the foyer.

finally having taken off all of your clothes he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder with a squeak of surprise coming out of your mouth. eventually you made it to the bedroom where he then threw you softly on the bed and climbed on top of you, his arms caging you in and trapping you beneath him.

"hmm... you're so cute you know that? giggling like that.."

he kissed you with a smacking sound and licked your lips with a smirk on his face causing you to giggle yet again.

"you do unspeakable things to me."

he moved his kissing down to your neck, biting down and sucking a bit causing a purple mark to form and a whimper to leave your mouth. you thread your hands into hair and tug a little making him groan in response. coming back up he kisses you again and you moan into the kiss when you feel his hand glide down your body.

you gasp as his fingers toy with your folds and he shoved his tongue in your mouth effectively muffling your noises. one hand weaved through his hair and the other quickly going to his shoulder in an effort to steady yourself as you feel his perfect fingers enter your body.

"aww look at you..." another kiss "all cute and wet for me"

you can't help but feel small under his gaze and you moan loudly as his thick fingers reach deeper inside of you, you push his head down when he thrusts and he now finds himself with his face in your tits.

you let whines leave your lips at the feeling of sloppy kisses on your chest your eyes roll back at the delicious timing of fingers on your walls. you hold onto him tighter feeling him use his thumb in your sensitive clit and you let out loud cries as he curls his fingers up when he finds your sweet spot.

“you are just so hmm" another sloppy kiss to your lips "so cute like this"

you feel yourself melt at the combination of his raspy voice and diligent fingers, you pull him in to make out and silence your moans with your tongue all over his.

"hnng fuck i bet you'd look cuter making a mess all over my cock though"

you shudder at his words, feeling overwhelmed your grip on him sure to leave marks the next morning and you unintentionally grind your hips as his fingers leave you. however before you have the chance to complain you scream at the feeling of him plugging you full with every inch of him, his hand now coming to your cheek caressing it as he soothes your adjusting body.

"shh just tell me when baby"

your heart beats faster at the soft tone he uses and you steady your breathing before nodding to let him know you're ready. he dives in for another kiss and you feel him pull almost all the way out before slamming back into you with an impossible amount of force causing you to moan into his mouth loudly out of surprise.

your thoughts are out the window at his precious cock making you feel more full than anything else ever could, practically drooling on him you can't do anything but moan and try (yet fail) to hold onto him. his groans fill your ears and you swear you could see stars at the way he's pumping into you, his pace not faltering even for a moment.

your hips keeping bucking up to meet his causing your head to fall back and a broken whimper to leave your mouth, his hand reaching down to toy with your clit yet again and you can't help but shake at the feeling.

"god-ah so cute, fuck so cute and dumb on me aren't you? ha-hnng can't even think straight can you baby?"

he's right, you can't think. only moaning in response and rapidly shaking your head. you don't even know what for really all you know is that he's good, so so fucking good.

you cling onto him and let your voice go to waste as he slams into you like a man gone insane, trying to tell him you're close you muster up all of your willpower.

"ch-childe AH ah haaa c-c-close haaa hnnng s-so cl-close"

without another word he somehow picks up the pace and groans louder into your ears, holding you with more strength now he doesn't hold back and is just as loud as you. without warning he slams his lips onto yours and lets out a low groan while you register his fluids filling you up. the warm thick cream causing your body to shiver in response and you feel yourself go limp at your own orgasm.

he kisses you once more but this time more softly and sweetly before collapsing on top of you and feeling himself drift into sleep. you let your hand make it’s way into his hair again and you pet it gently as you too fall into slumber.

you crack your eyes upon to find yourself on top of childe, smiling at his peaceful and pretty sleeping face. you pull yourself off of him and tremble when you feel him slip out of you, legs wobbly as your feet hit the floor. putting on his boxers and one of his t-shirts you open your phone to a million notifications.

"(y/n) care to explain this?"

"famous idol singer (y/n) goes viral for video of allegedly winking at fellow idol dckz member childe!"

you sigh at the multitude of news articles written and yawn, deciding not to deal with it until tomorrow and besides; you couldn't care less with the arms of a certain someone snaking around your waist.

[this took me 2 whole hours because i wrote it and accidentally deleted it 😐😐 apple’s little “copy and paste” from screenshots saved my ass so hard fr]

tags: @dilucsweetheart @z3nitsusgf @seakicker

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dear-ao3 · 4 years ago

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According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks!

Youguys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey

sticks,dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All

right,here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no!

You'redating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be

lunch formy iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former

queenshere in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see

how,by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but

thereare other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your

smokinggun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out

likethis. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But

isn'the your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see

anickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

- bee movie anon

#if i had to see this all you fuckers do to #not a tag #from saph #im not having a good morning and this made me cry thanks for that #the bee movie #long post

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