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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 1 month

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Fic: One Foot Out the Door (Won't You Come Back Inside?) 3/3

Hey, lookit! I finished a one-shot! Yes, I know three chapters is not a one-shot, but compared to my current WIP folder, this is positively a drabble.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy (Buddie is mentioned, but one-sided in this)

Part One

Part Two

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Evan said tiredly. “Is that where the writing on the wall came from?” he asked, looking into Tommy’s eyes with that same touch of fear that was making Tommy's heart hurt. Not trusting his voice, Tommy just nodded. Evan grimaced, squeezing his hands. “I was kind of hoping you hadn't noticed.”

Tommy froze, his first instinct to pull away, to curl in on himself–protect his vulnerable points–because what the hell? Evan knew? Evan already knew Eddie loved him, had already realized? When? How? How long?!

But Evan was still standing as close as he usually did, swaying into Tommy's personal space. He was still holding Tommy's hands in his strong, steady grip, still rubbing his thumb back and forth over the rough, scarred skin of Tommy's knuckles with the same soft, feather-light touch as he always did. As though Tommy was something worth treating gently, as though he was something to be held gently and treasured.

Why wasn't Evan pulling back, babbling apologies, and promising that he hadn't meant to hurt him. Why wasn't he tripping over himself saying that he loved Tommy, sure, but it was Eddie, didn't Tommy understand? He stared at Tommy's hands with an air of exhausted, saddened resignation…but it didn't feel like Tommy had been expecting it to. Evan's sadness didn't feel directed at him. What was going on?

“I'm…I'm gonna need you to run that by me again,” he said carefully.

Evan sighed, bringing Tommy's hands up to kiss his fingers before letting go. “I know I don't always have the best, uh, situational awareness outside of burning buildings, but I'm not an idiot. I can tell when people are interested.” He lowered his voice, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture that Tommy could tell was more self-soothing than defensive. “And I know Eddie better than anyone. We're…we're working on it.”

Ah. There it was. His stomach dropped sickeningly, and he swallowed hard, reaching down deep for the focus he called on when making a particularly tricky landing or charging into a fire that was escaping control. The focus that let him concentrate only on his next move, let him take things step by step and not look at the big picture of how much danger he was in. He needed that to get through this.

He'd come here intending to fight…but he wasn't an idiot either. If Evan and Eddie were already “working on” something, then the fight was already lost.

God, losing Evan was going to hurt so damn much.

But he loved Evan. He loved Evan enough to want him to be happy. So he could do this. He could withdraw gracefully, make it as clean a break as possible for both of them. The last thing he could do for his boyfriend, before he lost the right to call Evan his anything. Maybe if he did this right, losing Evan wouldn't blow the life he'd been building around this, around them, to smithereens.

“--and Dr. Copeland's really been helping us talk through things. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, but Eddie's…Eddie's not ready to come out yet and I promised him I wouldn't say anything unless it started causing problems for us.”

Evan was talking. Evan was talking quite a lot actually, his words coming faster and faster in a rapidly increasing stream that always signaled he was nervous, worried about not being understood. It was different from the way he picked up steam when he was excited about something, though Tommy couldn’t have told you how.

Abruptly, Evan broke off, reaching up to lay his hand against Tommy’s cheek. Tommy had to hold himself back from leaning into the touch, the calloused fingertips that were as familiar as his own by now. “I should’ve noticed this was upsetting you,” he said seriously. “That’s on me. I should’ve asked Eddie if I could talk to you sooner…he would’ve let me, I know he would. I guess—I don’t know, I guess I was just hoping we could smooth everything over before anyone figured anything out.” He shook his head, stroking Tommy’s cheekbone with his thumb like he wasn’t about to break Tommy’s fucking heart.

Gently as possible, of course. Evan was too kind to be anything but gentle. But it didn’t matter how gently you were lowered if the drop was a thousand-foot cliff.

“Babe, I promise, we already talked about it. I already told Eddie I wasn’t—well. We’ve talked about it. I’ll go on a different shift if it bothers you. I don’t…I don’t really want to move houses, but there’s plenty of places that’ll take me, so that’s an option too. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Just say the word.” Evan’s brow furrowed, his face settling into the determined cast that meant he was committed to whatever course he was laying down, be it for good or ill.

And…Tommy didn’t quite hear a record scratch in his head.

But that wasn’t far off as a description.

“What?”

Evan tilted his head slightly. “I mean. Ideally nothing changes. Eddie’s…Eddie’s my partner. I can’t really imagine working with someone else. But I, I, I get it. That’s a huge ask, even if Eddie’s your friend, too.”

“No, I—what?” Tommy was suddenly struck with the feeling that they were having two entirely different conversations.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this. I—you have every right to be angry about it. I just…I know how you feel about outing people. And I mean, me too! I’d never, I’d never do that to someone, and like I said, I was really hoping it wouldn’t be a problem.” His voice changed again, crossing the threshold into desperation, a slight quaver on the end of each word that told Tommy his boyfriend’s anxiety was ratcheting up with every passing second. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. Or Eddie.”

This wasn’t the way this conversation was supposed to go. This sounded like…didn’t Evan understand? “Evan,” Tommy said, feeling the words scrape over his throat like broken glass. “Evan, he’s in love with you.”

He could not let himself hope he was hearing his boyfriend correctly until he was sure Evan understood exactly what was on the table here. What he’d been seeing practically from the moment he and Evan first started dating.

Evan reeled back a little, his frown deepening. And then…and then he watched all of the puzzle pieces slot into place in his boyfriend’s brain. Those pretty, pretty eyes that Tommy loved getting lost in went wide, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh…oh, no. No. Tommy. Tommy, I know that,” he said softly. “But I’m in love with you.”

“I…I look, I’m not going to insult you, here,” Evan sighed, burrowing deeper into Tommy’s side and throwing an arm over his stomach. The two of them were sprawled on Evan’s couch, Evan tucked as close to Tommy’s body as he could manage. Given that he was over six feet tall and pretty much solid muscle, it was pretty impressively close. “If Eddie and I had figured ourselves out sooner…or if Eddie had said something back when we were first dating, well. It would have been a different story.”

Tommy could not help tightening his arm around Evan’s shoulders. “Right person, wrong time,” he said, the words barely carrying even the short distance between them. He felt Evan give a small nod, and could not bring himself to look down at his boyfriend. The man he loved. His, still, because Evan wasn’t trying to let him down gently. Wasn’t trying to leave. He couldn’t believe it.

He…he couldn’t believe it.

“Then why isn’t it right person, right time now?” he forced himself to ask. It felt stupid. Evan said he didn’t want to leave him, why was he looking a gift horse in the mouth? He had to know, though. He had to dig down to the very root of this whole mess, this single, unignorable thing that had been haunting his relationship with Evan all this time, standing in the way of the future he so desperately wanted with this man. He had to dig it out, once and for all.

Evan was silent for long enough that it started to make him nervous. Then his arm tightened across Tommy’s stomach. “Because we’re not,” he said finally. “I’m not the right person for him anymore…and he’s not the right person for me. Me and Eddie—whatever chance we had, it’s gone.” He shifted suddenly, sitting up slightly so he could look Tommy in the eye. “And I’m okay with that, Tommy. I don’t…I don’t regret that. I love you, okay? I love you. Full stop. No qualifiers.”

Evan could be insecure, sometimes. Unsure of himself. But he had never shied away from being honest with Tommy. Even when honesty was difficult, or painful. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry that Evan had hidden the fact that Eddie had told him he was in love with him…Eddie was Evan’s best friend above all else, and he’d been trying to stay loyal to both of them. It had been an impossible position. And…he hadn’t exactly been honest with Evan, either, had he? He should have talked to him about his doubts a long time ago. Especially when they became an obstacle to talking about the future.

“So Eddie’s been seeing Dr. Copeland with you?” he asked when Evan settled his head back on his shoulder. He carded his fingers through Evan’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Evan made a soft, contented sound.

“I mean, not as a patient or anything. More like…he comes and sits in on some of my regular sessions and she helps facilitate conversations. We—the most important thing is Chris doesn’t get hurt, you know? We needed to make sure any issues between us don’t affect him. But she’s also helping me set new boundaries, and just be mindful of not giving him false hope. Helping us keep communicating and figure out if we need some distance, and how that would work.”

Tommy hummed to himself, and then pressed a kiss to Evan’s forehead. “That must be hard for him,” he mused out loud.

Loving Evan and not being able to have him? Tommy was probably the only person in the world who could understand exactly how hard that would be. He’d been so sure it was going to be him on that end of this equation…and Eddie was his friend, too. One of his best friends. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but compassion.

“We’ve made it through hard things before,” Evan murmured. “Eddie…Eddie’s my best friend. He’s family. We’re not letting this ruin that.” He turned in Tommy’s arms, bringing himself impossibly closer. “But I meant what I said. I’m not letting this ruin us, either. If you need me to take a step back, I will. I mean—Eddie’s willing, too, but I just finished that HazMat certification, and my heavy rescue certs are more recent than his. Right now, it’d be easier for me to transfer somewhere.”

At that, Tommy wrapped his other arm around Evan’s waist and heaved, rolling him so that he was sitting on Tommy’s lap, facing him. “You’d really leave the 118 for me?” he asked in stunned disbelief.

Evan framed his face with his hands, leaning down to kiss him. Just a brief press of their lips together, but it was full of promise. “I’m never gonna lose the 118,” he said. “I know that…better than I ever have. But yeah, I don’t…I don’t need to work there, anymore. Not the way I did when I first started. You have no idea how much you helped get me there.”

“Baby…” he whispered, everything else he wanted to say getting lodged in his throat. Evan grinned at him crookedly, not a trace of doubt in his blue, blue eyes, and kissed him again. Deeper. Firmer.

Kissing Evan was always a delight, but this felt different. This felt like forever.

And in the face of forever, Tommy found he could finally chase away the shadow that had been haunting them.

“I’d never ask you to do that,” he said when they finally broke apart. He ran his hands up and down his boyfriend’s sides, loving the way he arched like a cat into the touch. “I trust you. I trust Eddie. If you say we can get through this, then that’s what we’re going to do.” He knew Evan hadn’t just been placating him, but the brilliant grin that broke out across his face told Tommy he’d said exactly the right thing. He answered it with his own, sliding his hands further down to rest on his boyfriend’s hips. “One condition, though.”

“Name it,” Evan said instantly, tilting his head curiously.

They weren’t on a romantic trip, or at a fancy dinner. There weren’t flowers or candlelight or any of the other trappings he’d imagined whenever he let himself indulge in thinking about how he might take the next steps with Evan. Curled together on his couch, basking in the knowledge that they were going to be okay…that they’d come face to face with a challenge that would have ended most other couples and were going to come out stronger for it…he found the setting didn’t matter.

“Come live with me when your lease is up. Hell, come now. Come home,” he said.

If he’d thought Evan’s smile had been bright before, this one was blinding. “Thought you’d never ask.”

#911 abc #911 tv show #evan buckley #mywriting #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #bucktommy #tommy kinard #kinley #kinkley

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mothfables · 3 months

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It happened in a crash of thunder.

They were making their way along one of the roads in an unclaimed Hyrule when the storm hit. It had been looming all day, making itself known in tight scars and aching joints.

They had just come upon a rocky cliff when it happened. Thunder boomed out of nowhere, making everyone jump. The rain came a moment later, bringing with it a chill that had some of them gasping.

“Let’s find shelter!” Warriors called. There were enthusiastic sounds of agreement.

Twilight pulled the hood of his pelt over his head only to pause. Something felt off. He did a quick headcount. All of the usual troublemakers - Wild, Hyrule, and Wind - were ahead, eagerly searching for some place to take shelter from the rain. The rest were trudging along as well as they could.

Everything seemed fine. He continued walking.

…Wait. Someone was missing.

The rancher stopped in his tracks, counting again. Wind, Wild, Hyrule- that was three. Time and Wars in their armor, glancing worriedly up at the clouds, five. Sky holding his sailcloth over an unhappy Four. Seven. He made eight.

…Where was the Vet?

Twilight glanced around, trying to spot his missing brother. He turned around and-

Oh.

Legend stood frozen in the middle of the road, hands clasped over his ears and eyes shut tight. Thunder boomed again and Twilight watched as he flinched, curling into himself with a barely-audible whimper.

Oh no.

It was no secret among them that Legend hated storms. Twilight hurried back towards his brother, calling out to try and get his attention.

There was no reaction. Legend remained frozen.

“Lege, hey, lookit me.” Twilight knelt down before him, noting with mounting worry how pale he was, just how tightly he curled into himself. Thunder rolled again and Legend flinched hard with a choked sound.

Twilight frowned. Calling his brother’s name again produced no result; Legend stayed unresponsive. A fourth bout of thunder had him shuddering and Twilight biting his lip.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He hesitated to touch him, but calling his name wasn’t working. Legend hated being touched without warning, but Twilight didn’t see any other way to get him out of the rain. With a sigh, he shrugged his pelt off and draped it over the smaller boy, making sure the hood was securely over his head before scooping him up and hurrying back to the rest of their brothers.

The Captain was the first to notice as he approached, his brow furrowing at the shaking form held close in protective arms. He sent Twilight a concerned look which only deepened when Legend let out a small, scared noise.

“We needta git ‘im outta the rain,” Twilight said. Wars nodded and was about to reply when he was interrupted by a shout.

“We found a cave! It looks like there’s enough room fer all of us!”

Wind waved at them from a large opening in the cliffside. The heroes still on the road hurried over, grateful for the chance to get out of the storm.

Inside the cave was thankfully dry and large enough for them to spread out and have their own space. The roof was even high enough they could have a fire without having to worry about the smoke.

Twilight moved to the back of the cave, as far from the entrance as he could. The sound of rain was quieter there, and he felt Legend’s trembling lessen a tiny bit.

“Shh, shh. I gotcha,” he murmured. “Let’s getcha outta those wet clothes, yeah?”

Legend whimpered and clung weakly to him as Twilight tried to gently wrangle him out of his wet things. Warriors came over after changing out of his own soaked clothes to help. Together they managed to get Legend out of his wet clothes and into something soft and dry.

The younger boy didn’t resist, only pressing closer as thunder echoed through the cave. Twilight and Wars shared a look over his head.

“Reckon he’s small, if he’s actin’ like this,” the rancher muttered lowly.

Wars sighed. “Yes, I think that might be the case. Do you think it was the storm?”

“I dunno what else it could been. ‘e was fine earlier, just grouchy cause his scars were actin’ up.”

Wars nodded before crouching down to be level with Legend and speaking softly. “Hey, bud. Are you feeling small right now?”

A muffled whine was his answer and he exchanged another glance with Twilight.

“Do you want me to hold you while Twilight gets changed? You can go right back when he’s done if you want.”

Legend didn’t respond, instead pressing even closer to Twilight as his right hand drifted towards his mouth. Warriors was quick to catch it, rubbing gentle circles into his palm in apology when Legend made an unhappy noise.

“I know, bud, I know. But Twi’s gotta get out of his wet clothes too. Come here.” He gathered Legend into his arms before shuffling around to sit against the wall with him in his lap.

He held his little brother, still rubbing circles into his hands, as he watched the rest of them work to make themselves comfortable to wait out the storm. Wild had managed to get a fire going and was in the process of preparing dinner. Four was furiously toweling himself dry while Wind went around gathering everyone’s bedding, most likely with the intention to make a nest for them all to cuddle in later.

Things had just gotten to a point where they were calm and relaxed when the weather took a turn for the worse.

Lightning flashed, painting the world a blinding white, followed by the loudest clap of thunder yet.

Legend jolted from his place against Warriors’ chest with a cry. Wars managed to catch him before he fell, wrapping his arms around him securely. Legend let him, staring into nothing for a long moment before he burst into tears.

He wailed, shoving his face into Wars’ chest to hide from the storm raging outside. His brother held him close, covering long ears and rocking side to side in an effort to calm him. Soft humming filled the air, a welcome distraction from the dull roar of rain outside their shelter.

It took time but eventually Legend’s tears slowed. Wars ran a soothing hand through his hair as he hiccuped, letting go of the tight grip he had on the older hero’s shirt to rub at red eyes. The captain gently wiped the tears from pale cheeks before pressing a kiss to his brow.

Wet violet eyes peeked up at him from behind damp hair. Wars smiled and tucked a lock behind one of those long ears. Legend sniffled and moved to nuzzle against his neck. He let him, used to the other boy’s way of seeking comfort.

“You feeling a little better, honeybun?”

A small nod against his collarbone. Wars leaned his head against Legend’s, earning a sigh.

“I bet yer tired, huh, kit?” Twilight murmured, laying a hand against Legend’s back. “Let’s git ourselves t’bed, yeah? Wind’s got a nice comfy nest built fer all’a us.”

There was a beat, then a tiny “…okay.”

“That’s th’ spirit. Awright, let’s go!” Twilight helped Wars make sure he had Legend in a secure grip before standing. Then they made their way over to where the Chain was waiting in the aforementioned nest. Wild was the only one missing, still working on dinner.

Wars settled down near the middle, Legend curled in his lap. Sky crawled over with a blanket and tucked him in with a smile. Then he took Legend’s face in his hands and pressed several kisses to his cheeks with exaggerated ‘muah!’ sounds. Legend gave a wet giggle at the affection.

Sky beamed. “There’s my little bird! Are you feeling better, baby?”

Legend nodded before his face scrunched and he yawned, nose quivering. He laid his head on Wars’ shoulder again with a content sigh.

“You can go to sleep if you want, honeybun. It’s alright.” The rain had died down a fair bit, a quiet patter on the cliff outside. Wild finished dinner and came over, plates in hand, and smiled when he saw Legend cuddled up to the captain.

“I’ll save his for later,” he whispered.

“Thanks, champion. I know he’ll appreciate it.”

Warriors began running a hand through Legend’s hair, feeling the boy in his lap relax at the soothing motions. He leaned more and more heavily into the captain, one hand grasping loosely at Wars’ shirt while the other rested under his chin. A moment later tiny squeaking snores sounded.

Sky cooed. The other heroes exchanged adoring smiles at the sight.

“Alright, that’s bedtime for us, I think,” Wars whispered. “Sleep well, everyone. See you all tomorrow.”

With that, he carefully moved to lay down, Legend still wrapped in his arms and snoring quietly. He felt more than saw someone lay a blanket over him, his own eyes already drifting shut from the assurance of safety and family.

“Goodnight, captain,” was the last thing he heard before he let sleep embrace him.

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lullabyes22-blog · 5 months

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Snippet - Who's That? Who's That? - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

A few shopgirls spy a pair of distinguished shoppers.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Today, the Skylight Commercia is an upscale amphitheater, licensed by Zaun's Cabinet and protected by its own army of blackguards. It also boasts a full complement of unionized staff: porter boys, seamstress girls, spoonymen, bakers, bartenders, watchmen, even medicks who specialize in the tragic malady known as shopaholism.

Already, the atmosphere is a profusion of bedazzlement. Clutches of people dot the pathway: early risers and late-night revelers. A few stop and stare at the couple strolling past them. An entourage of Enforcers follow them at a distance, footsteps echoing across the cobblestones.

"Lookit," are the whispers. "Lookit."

They make an unusual pair. A man and a woman, shoulder-to-shoulder. He is a blade of a thing: sharp in every facet. Sharp-dressed, sharp-eyed, sharp-built. He gives the impression that if you come at him wrong, you are liable to get sliced in half.

Yet he has a smooth, silky manner about him. A Zaunite's strut.

His companion is a lithe, languid, lovely creature in a charmeuse gown the color of midnight. It is intricately pleated and geometrically cut: a Piltovan style. Indeed, the woman is all Piltover, from the top of her beautifully gold-coiffed head to the soles of her shapely gold-sandaled feet. Some greet the sight of her with scowls; others with stares.

The woman pays no mind to either. Her head is held high. She appears serenely at ease in her strange surroundings.

"Who're they?" the shoppers whisper among themselves.

Rumors swirl. The man is none other than the Eye of Zaun, master of it all. Hard to credit. Most only know him by his trademark voice in radio broadcasts. The rest are still convinced the Eye is a myth, or a monster risen from the depths of shadow. This man is too real to be either. The scars on his face are crosshatched as deeply as mining seams.

And the woman? A Councilor, it is whispered. Harder to credit. Why would a Councilor dirty the hem of her dress across the pathways at this hour? Indeed, why would she bother to get out of bed (a bed the shoppers can only imagine is as sumptuous as a chocolate gateau) before noon, when most Pilties ring for their maids to serve breakfast?

"Who d'you reckon they are?" one shopgirl whispers to another.

"They say it's a Topside toff," her companion whispers back, "with the Eye of Zaun."

"Pffft. The Eye already owns the whole city!"

"Well, maybe he's out bargain hunting?"

"That's bollocks! Bet it's a chem-baron, giving his mistress the tour."

"A Piltie mistress? You're dreaming!"

"Am I? These days, every Topsider and their dog wants a sniff below."

A third shopgirl stares awestruck at the woman's elegant silhouette. "She looks a right prize, I'll say that."

"We'd all look right prizes if we never worked a day in our lives!"

They laugh in ribald unison—laughter being the main thing that has survived in the Fissures despite decades of hardship.

And so, inevitably, has gossip. In a few minutes, off on their break, they are at their usual haunt near the Big Brass, chattering away. The city bubbles with scuttlebutt: fads, fights, fancies. What is passe and what is posh. Who has gone up in the world; who has tumbled down. Who’s up to no good, and who’s met a bad end.

News is impossible to separate from natter. It is the lifeblood that pulses through the city's arteries. It suffuses the air with its own magic. And no one knows that fact better than the Eye, who has spent much of his tenure collecting it, distilling it, manipulating it.

Knowledge is currency—and the currency is the only thing that can be relied upon in a world of shifting sands.

Today's fare is the juiciest of the week. The shopgirls, on their third round of cavernfruit juice, are already aflame. The upcoming Expo is off to a promising start: the streets are cramming with tourists, and the shopkeepers are rubbing their hands with glee. Hotels are seeing a surge in bookings. Clubs have mandated fire sprinklers and escape stairwells. The air has been pleasantly pure despite the periodic Gnashers. A new dance, the Targonian Twist, is sweeping the Lanes. In Oldtown, rehab centers are running out of beds. The treatment programs are making headway. The Shimmer addicts are being weaned off their fix. And the medicks say a cure for Grey Lung is on the horizon.

The prototypes are currently undergoing tests at private laboratories. By this time next year, there could be a vaccine available for sale. No word on the cost, yet. Or whether the Cabinet will approve its mass-production.

But the talk is rife with optimism—the offspring of early progress.

What truly interests the girls is gossip to do with the Council. They lean in closer, their voices dipping to a hush.

"You heard what happened to Heimy, then?" one girl says.

"You mean the old Yordle?"

"Who else, daftie?"

"What about him?"

"Well, seems he's gone missing while on sabbatical."

"On what, now?"

"Sabbatical! Y'know. It's what the eggheads call it when you take a holiday."

"And he just vanished?"

"His secretary got a letter saying he was heading up to Demacia. He hasn't been seen since."

"How'd you know?"

"My second-cousin's wife, she's a maid at his house. Said Enforcers dropped by. They told her to keep her lips zipped."

"Zipped why?"

"Said the Council are keeping it hush-hush. Heimerdinger’s their former head and all. Don't want folks worrying."

"He was on the Council, wasn't he?"

"Well, there's something else..."

"What's that?"

"My aunt, she works at the Boundary Markets. She says that before the Siege, she could've sworn she saw him wandering about."

"You mean... here? In Zaun?"

"Yeah! And not alone. She said he was with some bloke."

"Who?"

"Janna knows. He had a mask on. Personally, I think she's exaggerating. She's a bit of a lush. The drink must've gone to her head."

"But what if it's true?" one girl says. "Maybe the fuzzball's hiding out in Zaun? And who's the man with the mask, I wonder? Could it be the Eye?"

"Why'd the Eye help a Councilor? He calls 'em A lineage of leeches."

"Maybe he's trying to make nice after the Treaty?"

"Or he's holding the old Yordle for ransom?"

"As what? Jinx's new pet?"

They share peals of laughter. Absurdity is also a staple of the Zaunite diet, and the notion that the Eye would keep a Yordle captive in his penthouse is enough to make anyone's sides split. They can picture it, clear as day. The Eye in a dark silk robe, the Yordle in a pink bow, the two of them dancing their own strange waltz around the lavish rooms. Maybe Jinx would serenade them, as her devotees do her: Come on, dance faster, just a little bit of energy...

"I keep hearing," a girl says, "the Eye's a vampire, and his flat's a dungeon."

"That's just the chem-burn talking, love."

"Well, I'd wager there's a grain of truth. Vampires don't breathe, right? And they don't need sunshine. The Eye's no different. Where else would he live but underground?"

"He's commissioned a dozen cultivairs' hothouses full of sunshine. Why'd he do that if he's a vamp?"

"I'm not saying he's a full vamp, for Janna's sake. But everyone knows the Eye has his fingers in the blood trade."

"The Shimmer trade."

"Same thing. I hear Shimmer's made of poro blood. That's why it's so dangerous."

"It's a drug, love. Drugs're all dangerous."

"Not always. My boyfriend got a thimbleful last weekend from the back-alley chemist. Cleared up his cough, it did. And gave him a cockstand so big—"

"Oh, shut it, I don't wanna know!"

"What I'm saying is, there's more to Shimmer'n meets the eye."

"Got that right. My uncle OD'd on it, remember? Died screaming. So did his missus."

"Didn't their kid run away?"

"Yeah. Joined the Firelights. Who are a bunch of crazies, if you ask me."

"Oooh. I can't stand the lot of them! Making a ruckus wherever they go!"

"I heard they're dying off. No one's seen hide nor hair of them since the Siege."

"That's not what my brother-in-law said. He's a blackguard at southside. He heard scuttlebutt that the Firelights were holed up in a secret lair. Somewhere down in Oshra Va'Zaun’s tunnels. The Eye's trying to wall 'em in—or starve 'em out."

"How long've they been there?"

"Don't know. Maybe years."

"What a load of bollocks. Where are their goods coming from, then? You'd have thought the blackguards would've sniffed out the supply lines."

"My brother-in-law says they've a secret way into Zaun."

"What? Where?"

"Dunno. Supposedly only the Eye knows."

"He's a crafty sod. Bet he's already filled it up with Jinx's bombs."

"Why not ask him? He was browsing for jar cakes an hour ago."

"That's not the Eye, you dumb tart!"

And etcetera.

Under the watery sunrays of the glass dome, pigeons flutter. The girls buy paper cones of birdseed, for the fun of watching the birds flock around them. They are still playing guessing games over who the enigmatic chem-baron and his companion are. But in fact, it matters little. The security detail has alerted them to the presence of bigwigs. They need to know nothing else.

Where the Gray sits, as the saying goes.

At the escalators, they spot the couple again. They have stopped with their entourage. A little girl lingers by the railing. Too scared to climb aboard the steps, she is blocking their path. The shopgirls tense as one of the lady's guards move to shove the girl aside.

That's Enforcers for you. Always throwing their weight around.

The sharp-dressed man stops the guard. There are quietly severe words exchanged. Then the man himself kneels. He is talking to the girl, a gentle hand on her shoulder. His manner is almost reassuring. Whatever he says is lost in the hubbub of the marketplace. But the little girl seems soothed by his words.

Politely, he proffers a hand. She accepts with caution, then smiles a little as they perform a box-step together, leaping onto the escalator. Playfully, the man lifts her off the last step at the top. The girl giggles and kicks her feet before he deposits her on the ground.

Below, the elegant lady claps. She has been watching with an intrigued eye. Her entourage, more grudgingly, follow suit. The little girl, titillated, performs a curtsey. She and the man exchange parting words. With a forefinger, the man taps the skin under his eye: the universal Zaunite gesture:

Fuck the police.

He gives the girl a finger wave. Beaming, she rushes off to her family, who've watched her progress with bated breath. A chem-baron and Enforcers cornering a lone child? In the Fissures, it's the beginning of a horror story.

With a dismally familiar ending.

"That was decent of him," says one shopgirl, licking her fingers.

"The best men are good with whelps," the second says. “It shows.”

"Pffft," scoffs the third. "One good turn and you're already fitting him for a ring, eh?"

"I'm only saying! He was patient. A lot of kids would've started blubbering."

"Maybe he's a chem-baron who moonlights as a nanny."

"Chem-barons have whelps, too!"

"And they pack 'em off to boarding school soon as the tit's empty."

"Maybe this one's special."

"You're daft," the first girl says, tossing a pigeon a last pinch of seed. "He's the Eye, for sure."

"What's got you so convinced?"

"Well, he's got a whelp too, doesn't he? Jinx?"

"Pssh. Jinx is his dollymop."

"Don't think so. I read somewhere he'd adopted her."

"I read he'd had a child by her."

"That's bollocks!"

"They say it's why she went into hiding after the war."

"Well, I heard she'd—"

"Ssh," the first shopgirl hisses. "They're coming this way."

Sure enough, the couple are crossing the plaza. Their entourages follow. Hurriedly, the shopgirls clean the clutter of cigarettes and paper-cones, straightening up. They give the couple wide berth, nodding respectfully as they sweep past. The aroma of hothouse hyacinths and bottled bergamot lingers in their wake.

The woman stares straight ahead, indifferent to the scenery. The man, on the other hand, appraises his surroundings with interest. They converse in soft voices: contralto and baritone. The latter has a graveled pitch that seems uncannily familiar.

A radio voice. The Eye's.

The shopgirls are too intimidated to eavesdrop. But suddenly, the rumor—that the Eye and a Councilor are on an extended excursion of the Skylight together—no longer seems so far-fetched.

A paper cone, caught in a shopgirl's fingers, slips free. It skitters toward the man's gleaming leather shoes. He stops mid-step, and the lady follows suit.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the girl stammers.

The man stoops, picking up the cone. With an elegant precision, he hands it to her. For a moment, the three shopgirls are caught in his crosshairs. Up close, he's a fearsome-looking creature. The dapper clothes conceal a hard-edged physique like a miner's pickax. His right eye is the color of a lapis lazuli strung from the stalls. His left eye...

Roving across the girls, it gives off an acid-red glow.

The eye of a godling—or a devil.

The shopgirls’ skins break into gooseflesh. Their tongues go dry as Fissure-roots.

Idly, the man nods, and walks on.

"Shit," the first girl whispers, "what if that is the Eye?"

"If it is," the second whispers back, "then pray to Janna nobody gets their throat slit."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane mel #mel medarda #silco x mel #melco #snippet

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minecraftbookshelf · 2 months

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Empires/Life Series MCC results, from lowest to highest score.

Katherine hasn’t played MCC in so long I’m so excited she was here

Lizzie also hasn’t been on in a while, we feast. and look at Impulse, climbing the scoreboards!

I love them both, Scar’s face in the banana skin outline looks like something out of a creepypasta

Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts

Another “im so happy they came back!” (There are a lot of them this event)

GeminiSlay, perfect middle score. She and Pearl did their best to murder each other at every opportunity.

They just decided to own this section of the leaderboard

Lookit him go!

#empires smp #life series #mcc #mcc ender cup #empires ensemble #traffic life ensemble #trafficblr #rain rambles

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

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“Kissing” Luffy Under the Mistletoe (NSFW)

Merry Christmas! Sorry I didn’t post this sooner :/

This Fic also references this one on teaching him how to kiss

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Luffy being OOC and very direct, Kissing, Fluff, but turns to Smut, Basically PWP, Oral sex, Pussy Drunk Luffy. Implied Virgin Luffy

“Y/N.”

You turn your attention to his curious voice looking away from the tangled lights you and your Captian was trynna fix in the middle of the Library floor , but stop in your tracks seeing the small green decoration held by his fingers.

“Whats this? Is it a plant? What’s the red things on it?”

“Oh!” You crawl over to him to reach out and take it from his hands, “It’s just a mistletoe. I need to hang that up somewhere.”

“What is that?”

“It’s just a little deco that you hang on like a door or something and when two people stand under it you have to kiss that person. It’s a funny little tradition.”

Luffy cocks his head to the side, kiss? Really?

“Like that thing we did a few weeks ago? In the aquarium?”

You momentarily flashback to that moment and feel your face get warm, you didn’t necessarily want him to bring that situation up again considering how far you both have gotten after “just kissing”.

“Y-yes Luffy that thing we did.”

“Oh!” He chuckles remembering how good it felt to suck lick and taste your lips, you were really a great kisser in Luffy’s mind. He felt kind of sheepish to not have another moment like that with you considering you both were just getting to the good part. Not another kiss or any other physical touch similar to it have been exchanged since, but now that he has been reminded. Why not push a little further and pick up where you both left off. “So as long as that mistletoe is between us we can kiss right?”

“Well…i mean yeah, but—hey!” Luffy being Luffy snatched it back and headed out the door with it waving off. Your face stiffened, wondering what dreadful idea your captain has up his sleeve, but you were too lazy to get up and chase him. Oh well.

He couldn’t be doing nothing too bad with the mistletoe.

“Y/N!” Your name rung throughout the Sunny about 10 minutes later by that name familiar voice,

“Y/N!

Y/N!

Y/N! COME HERE!”

Slightly mentally exhausted from putting up the Christmas lights, you sigh, get up, and smooth your dress down to follow the rasp voice down to his room.

You see Luffy from a distance still calling your name when you manage to pick up your pace to him so nobody else can turn the corner to wonder what the hell is going on, he smiles at you brightly seeing you approach,

“Hey—“

“Lookit!”

You look up to see the mistletoe, poorly hanging on the door frame with some tape, it nearly falls on your face until Luffy speedily snatches it, “Lu—MMMPH!”

Being the straight forward man he was he wasted no more time repeating history to clash his lips with yours.

Except.

This time was different.

This kiss was different.

Your body in distinctively drew closer to his, your hands rested on the tough skin of his scar, thumbs caressing him, was it because of the cold draft from outside or because the way Luffy’s body always had the affect on your to get closer? Your nose inhaled his musky scent of the sea, his hands shy above your waist, slowly slithering to wrap around you 2 times, his head swished around, man he missed your lips. Soft soft, sweet like the cookies you both shared, the kiss must have gotten to him because his breathing have increased harsher through his nose hitting your warm cheek. This was much improvement from the first time, it was soft, slow, breath taking even. The kiss felt so long, you just barely able to pull away from his now gloss stained lips, he licked them, breaking the small spit line connecting you both-and smiled.

And that smile is exactly what got you here.

On your back, dress being hiked up from Luffy’s erratic rutting into your spread legs on his messy bed, his hair was so soft, and thick between your finger tips as your hips were so plushy between his hands, and his kisses . His kisses were passionate, more calculated, in contrast to his first time.

Luffy couldn’t get a grip, he can’t believe how much he missed your lush lips on his, it was a sense of comfort for him he didn’t think he needed, and you didn’t either.

It has been a while since you had sex so it didn’t take long into this lip sucking match with your captain until your body moved on its own and you pulled the top of your dress down forced Luffy’s hand on your breast.

That’s when he stopped.

“Oh.”

Was all Luffy replied, hand still on the squishy flesh. You felt embarrassed. You should have been more in control of your urges, what if he just wanted a kiss?

“I’m—i’m so sorry—“ You struggle to fix back your dress, but Luffy’s eyes didn’t part from seeing your pretty perked nipples, he gave it a nice firm squeeze and then moved his other hand to do the same, rolling his thumb and index finger. “Lu—!”

No words could spill through his teeth, in an instant his eyes became dark. Luffy licked his dried lips nearly dipping to suck on one, but he paused, scanning the room with his eyes to quickly grab the fallen mistletoe and drop it on your left breast.

“What are y—“

“This means i can kiss your tits right?”

He has such a way with words.

Your can see his breathing building harsher pointing at your breast. You didn’t have much time to register his impatient question so he shrugged to plant a shy kiss on your nipple. The feel of warm lips pecking both breast back and fourth immediately went to your pussy, you felt yourself clench around nothing, toes curling in anticipation for him to make a more firm move on them. He must have read your mind because he stuck his tongue out and stretched it around your soft nipple to suck on making your back arch.

Luffy hummed before sitting up and cupped both breast and jiggled them for a moment.

“Your boobs are nice, Y/N. I see why Sanji looks at them alot.”

“…thank you, Luffy.”

“Has he ever touched ‘em like this?”He grinned thumbs now making circular movements on them.

“N-no!” You moved you back upwards a little, spreading your legs further for Luffy to follow suit, now feeling a very familiar bulge right on your clothed clit. “No he never…has.”

“Good because I can only do this now! Right?”

“Right…Luffy—“

“Shhhh I wanna kiss your lips more. You’re a really good kisser.”

Hands still playing with your chest he kisses your parted lips and allows his tongue for entry inside, sucking your tongue in the process. His kisses have most definitely improved.

From all the kissing and rubbing against one another you sat you a little on your elbows still not parting from Luffy, The mistletoe that was once on your chest felldown between your legs,

And Luffy noticed.

“Oh look!” He looked down seeing it land perfect right on your crotch. “It’s on your pu—“

“LUFFY!” You cover his wet mouth, feeling his teeth graze your palm as he smiles, “It’s fine—“

“No! It’s not!” He moved off the bed to kneel, seeing the full access of your damp lacy panties and did a crooked smile at the not so innocent sight. “I have to kiss your down there too!”

You couldn’t argue with him since you were too busy moaning out his name instead. His eye lids lowered looking down at your wiggling clit under the mercy of the tip of his tongue. His timid tongue licks sent shivers down your spine, your hands were thrown on his scalp as his were busy parting your thighs.

“MUAH! MUAH! MUAH!” Luffy snickered giving your clit big open mouthed kisses making you giggle out at his childish antics at such a lewd moment. “Don’t laugh! I am giving you a kiss down here!”

“Sorry sorry..” You teased looking down at his tired gaze. His eyes weren’t as alerted anymore, they were relaxed as he didn’t peel from your soft eyes, tongue kissing your slit before your very eyes, your stomach knotted at the sensation of his inexperienced tongue, not having any sense of direction, but hitting every spot inside you possible. “Mmmmm! Luffy!”

Your hips grinded on your face as your massaged your breast, following the motion of his tongue inside the sensitive bundle of nerves, you threw your legs on his shoulders to push him further which Luffy willingly obligated holding the sides of your ass.

Your taste was so unique, nothing he ever experienced, your smell is so pungent and delicious in Luffy’s mind and he loved it.

The pace of both his uncoordinated tongue and your hip rocking was building a tension in your tummy you had to release, “Luffy!” You cried breast now bouncing up and down, your thighs twitching uncontrollably because Luffy’s tongue just couldn’t stop hitting the bottom of the hood of your clit.

Luffy felt the tightness of your thighs keeping him in. Not that he minded it, you felt so warm. He kept sucking and groaning inside you, his thumbs rubbing circles on your tense thighs until your back arched off the bed cuming right inside his mouth. You cried, body shaking at the intense orgasm that he was now letting your ride out slowly with his kitten licks.

“I like kissing you down there more.” Luffy licked his wet lips of your creamy cum, and sucking a few fingers making you blush, “You taste good all over!”

You just nodded covering half your face from post orgasm with your arm, but Luffy crawled towards you to move it and give you a soft pepper of kisses on your cheek and lips.

“We should kiss more, but without the mistletoe.”

“We should, Luffy. But…how did you know how to…ya know…kiss down there?”

Luffy nuzzled into your neck, bulge still poking you and sighed, you smelled yourself on his breath which immediately made you bite your lip as you held him.

“I told you, Y/N. I seen A LOT in Dressrosa!”

#one piece #TimikosLuffy #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece x female reader #luffytaro #luffy x black reader #luffy x female reader #luffy smut #mugiwara no luffy #luffy one piece #luffy #one piece smut #one piece x black!reader #x female reader

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mysticdoodlez · 1 year

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Lookit that wittle dermal piercing scar

#noah sebastian

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mama-qwerty · 8 months

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Prime S3 Thoughts - Renegade

In previous seasons, Renegade (to me) was one of those characters who was just . . . there. He was the most like og Knux out of the variants, and was quite subdued in comparison to Nine's complete 180 to Tails, or Dread's difference to, well, Knuckles. I never really gave him much thought, as he simply seemed to be Knuckles' urge to protect cranked up to 11.

He was probably the best Knux variant to meet first, because he wasn't all that different from the Knuckles Sonic knew, and allowed us to focus more on how different Nine was from Tails.

He was just . . . Knux with a hat and a lot of scars. Rebel doesn't seem to be as beaten up as Ren is, so it would stand to reason that Ren really threw himself into the brunt of battle to keep her (and others) safe. He didn't really strike me as someone who was careless--he was pretty cautious and wary of traps. But he does strike me as someone who'd sacrifice himself and put himself in harm's way to protect everyone else.

So I never really gave him all that much thought.

But then season 3 rolled around, and OMG, Ren really jumped forward to make me love him.

He's snarky. He's sarcastic. He's not afraid to say what he's thinking and is ready to throw hands with the Eggs at the slightest poke from them.

This scene made me laugh, specifically his face at the end. He's just so damn adorable.

His interactions with Dr. Deep were also hilarious.

But he's still protective, and is right there by Sonic's side to keep him safe, or help him take down Nine.

Lookit his face. He enjoyed that punch.

Ren loves a good fight. We didn't have much insight into og Knux's mindset or personality--he had what, a total of 3-4 lines in the whole series?--but Ren enjoys fighting for a cause. Yeah, maybe he's a bit hotheaded, maybe he's a little too eager to jump into a fight, but he also recognizes the bigger picture. He knows when to fall back.

Ren didn't go through any character arc, but that's okay, because his character was pretty well grounded from the beginning. We saw more of his personality in season 3, which made him the Knux to watch that season. (Season 2 belonged to Dread.)

Still love my Dread, but Ren has raced up to sit in my 'fave Knux' section.

#sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #renegade knucks #renegade knuckles #knuckles the echidna

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obsessedwithpedritoofc · 7 months

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Mʏ Oɴʟʏ Rᴇᴀsᴏɴ (Fʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Frankie Morales × Transmasc Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,3 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Both sent to the same prison, with different reasons and different problems to deal with. At least most of them, until one brought them together.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: au, angst, violence, mentions of blood, shots being fired, mentions of death, mentions of killing, allusion to drugs, mentions of anger problems, mentions of scars, fluff, not wanting to have sex, frankies a sweetheart ofc, similarities with the series "time", actual physical descriptions of reader (but not detailed), no use of Y/N (reader is referred to as Lost). (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: hellooo as i suppose you already know, i LOVED writing this shit. frankie is my favorite pedro character and will always be and whenever i write something for him i get really excited. anyway so, this is based on the series "time", which is why it has some similarities to it but i mainly got inspiration from my own imagination :D whatever, im starting to bore myself lol. enjoy <3

𝕡𝕥 𝕚 𝕞𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

That was it. You almost had it. You just had to pull the trigger...

"Come on, get up!", there was a firm, insistent knock at the door of your cell. You looked at the ceiling, sighed and reluctantly got up.

Of all the bad days you had —and you had many bad days—, that was the worst day you could have been transferred. Your legs were stiff, your knuckles were broken and bloodied, and the scar in your stomach was making your insides hurt more than usual, though maybe that was because of the hunger. But well, it's not like you could even choose when to be transferred or where. That fight hadn't been your fault.

"Move, asshole", you looked up at him. He grabbed the chicken sandwich from your tray.

"Aren't you a bit too small to be a boy?", he laughed. Some of the ones behind him did, too.

"Give me my fucking sandwich back and move out of the way", you tried to stand your ground, not look weak, give them a warning.

"Oh, lookit that! Little girl's gotten all mad—".

You didn't give him the chance to finish the sentence before you smashed your tray right on his face, making him fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You got on his lap and started hitting your fist on his nose, his mouth, his eyes, everything you could hit. Until the alarm went off and you were surrounded and grabbed by a bunch of guards that took you to an isolation cell.

Next day, you were being transferred to a prison thousands of kilometers away from him. You didn't even know where they were going to take you. But you didn't care either. At this point, you didn't really care about anything.

When you arrived to your new home it was snowing and you were freezing. As you were approaching, the driver gave you a brief explanation of how weather and life were like in that prison. You didn't see yourself living in a place where it was always cold and raining —or snowing, that day specifically—, let alone for more than twenty years and between all those freaks.

Your time in that last prison had been cut short barely a month after you got in. You rejected every chance you were given to call your family or whoever close to you, and you didn't receive a single visit. Not like you had anyone close to you either. The only one that had once been was now gone.

You spent your first day in prison like it had been your forever home. The next day, though, everyone knew who you were and started looking at you as if you were their next prey. Or more as if they knew why you were there. Luckily for you, no one approached more than necessary. And luckily for you, you didn't really have to approach anyone at all, since you didn't even have a cellmate.

A week in, though, a group of inmates paid you a visit while you were reading in your cell. One of them looked outside to make sure there was no one dangerously nearby, then closed the door. The man at the front stood still, looking at you and scanning the room. Then, he sat next to you on the bed. You immediately sat up by instinct and scanned them all as well. There was three of them —four counting the on sitting next to you. You really didn't have much of a chance if you wanted to suddenly run away, but you could knock out their boss and one of them if you were fast enough.

"I know who you are", said the one on your side.

"Before you continue, you should know the last person who told me I was small didn't end very well", you spoke fast, looking at him in the eyes with an expressionless demeanor, showing you weren't weak and that you were going to stand your ground.

"Oh, I know that, too", he smiled. "That's why you were transferred here, right?".

You sighed. The situation was starting to be a bit too cliché and boring for your liking.

"What do you want?", you didn't take your eyes off of his.

"Nothing", he raised his eyebrows. "Yet".

Of course, you thought, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"So?", you crossed your arms. The man beside you stayed silent for a while.

"Do people around here know what you really are?".

Your demeanor immediately changed, shifting from an expressionless one to a scared one. You knew what he was talking about.

But how the hell did he know?

"Who the fuck are you?", you found yourself suddenly lacking of oxygen. He just smiled.

"I'll come to you when I need a favor", he got up and walked to the door, then knocked. The man behind it opened it. "In the meantime, try not to get in much trouble".

And just like he had walked in, he also walked out. You gasped for air the very second you were left alone.

Great, one week in that prison and you had somehow already fucked up.

"Hey", another man was standing by the door now. He wasn't one of the other guy's men. "You good?", he looked around the room as if he was searching for something.

"Uh... Yeah", you frowned. "Why?".

"Those assholes are always up to somethin', wouldn't be a surprise if they were tryna get you in", he put his hands in his pockets and leaned his side on the doorframe.

"Do you want something?", you sounded a bit annoyed.

"No. I, uh, was jus' checkin' you weren't hurt".

"Well, I'm not. Thanks", you forced a brief smile. "You can leave now".

"Right", he pulled away from the door. "Sorry for botherin' ya".

When he was out of sight, you breathed again.

You took some time to think. Maybe if you did what the guy had told you to, you'd be out of trouble. By the moment, the best for you was to stay out of trouble. He had said not to, perhaps so that cops around wouldn't keep much of an eye on you in case he was going to ask you for a favor —you'd be out of suspicion.

You sighed. You knew you were fucked. But maybe you could keep yourself from making it worse.

"Why?", you held up the gun. "Why did you do it?", tears were streaming down your face.

"I had no choice".

"Why did you do this to me?!", you took a step back.

"I didn't know I'd get y—".

"Get the fuck away from me!!!".

And then you shot.

You sat at the back of the dining room. You were lucky to go down early so you could avoid the masses of inmates that fought over the last piece of bread. Unfortunately, the assholes were something you couldn't avoid. Especially the ones that came to you that morning.

"Well, hello", he sat beside you once again, followed by his men.

"What?", your tone was stern, though your face gave away your concern of what he might say. He didn't say anything at first and grabbed the bread from your tray. "That's mine", you spat.

"Not anymore", he looked into you eyes with as much sternness as your tone was holding at first. "I need you to do something for me", he smiled.

Shit, was your only thought.

"What?".

"But I need to know I can trust you before I give you a task".

"No. You tell me what you want me to do and I'll decide if I do it—".

"I think you don't understand how this works", he moved closer. "I tell you to do something, and you just do it. You don't do it, I tell everyone about you. You fuck it up, I tell everyone about you. You tell the cops, I tell everyone about you", he stared into your eyes. "Are we clear?".

You didn't say anything. You didn't want to make him think you were one to submit easily, but you didn't have any other choice either. Luckily for you, he wasn't looking to humiliate you and just let it be.

"A friend of mine's gonna leave some stuff by your cell one of these days", he pulled slightly away. "I need you to hide it and save it until I come get it".

You put on your usual expressionless demeanor.

"Okay", was your answer. He smiled.

"That's more like it", he patted your shoulder and got up. "Good thing we're on the same page".

And like that, he just walked away again.

You looked around, searching for anyone that might have seen you. Everyone else seemed to be minding their own business, except for the man that had gone check on you the first time that group of inmates had gone talk to you. He was staring at you with a knowing look from a couple tables away. You saw him well this time: he was wearing a cap and his moustache barely hid half of his upper lip. He got up with his tray before you could scan him any longer, then walked up to you and sat by your table.

"What did he say this time?", he asked.

"Hello to you, too", you rolled your eyes and went back to eating. "Why do you care so much anyway?".

"Because the last people I saw him approach to didn't end well".

"Well, define not well", you said with your mouth full.

"Beaten up by cops. By himself. Ended in the hospital", he paused to think. "Dead".

You stopped chewing for a moment, then continued.

"And why me?", you swallowed. "There's a lot of people in here, at least one of them all's gotta be in some shit with those guys".

" 'Course they do, but most of 'em want the reward he gives 'em", he took a bite of his own food. "You didn't seem to".

"Yeah, well, I guess he ran outta rewards because he didn't offer me one", you raised your eyebrows while looking down at your plate, having another bite.

"Then why did you accept to do his dirty work?".

"I didn't ac—".

"I saw him gettin' outta here with your bread n' all smiley, you must've said somethin' he liked".

You stopped eating and slammed your hands on the table.

"Look, man. Whatever I do or not is none of your goddamn business, so I suggest you start minding your own shit unless you wanna end beaten up like the last person that fucked around with me", you stared into his eyes, your own set on fire. He threw his hands up.

"A'right", he grabbed his tray and got up. "Sorry for b—".

"Bothering me, yeah, sure, you can go", you shooed him. He knew better than to keep insisting, so he walked away.

You went back to your cell as soon as you were done eating. Damn, you did miss the bread. But to be honest, it wasn't really something you were concerned about. What really worried you at that moment was which kind of stuff was that bastard's friend going to make you hide and what would happen to you in case you were caught in a room inspection.

You hoped nothing too bad.

It was done. You had done it. It was over.

You stood there, looking at the body laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

Then you heard police sirens.

"Drop your gun!", they broke the door open. They held their gun up. You held yours on the side of your head.

"Get back!", you screamed.

"Drop your gun and get on the floor!", they kept saying.

You saw no better way out of it. So you shot once again.

A knock on your door woke you up. You hit your forehead with the metal bars under the bunk bed when you jumped, startled. You cursed yourself and rubbed the hurt spot on your forehead before getting up.

No words were shared between you and the man at the other side of the door. He just lent you a small paper bag. You hesitantly grabbed it, then he walked away.

You went back inside. You sat on your bed, asking yourself if you should open the bag or not. To be honest, it wasn't really closed, so the others wouldn't really know if you had looked inside. It's not like he had said you couldn't look. Technically, you were doing nothing wrong—

"What did he give you?".

You hit your head again with the bars.

"Dude, what the fuck!", you rubbed the top of your head. You turned to look at the door, finding the same guy that had sat with you on the dining room more than a week ago. "Oh, it's you", you huffed. "Didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?".

"I know", he walked inside. "But seriously, you need some help with that guy".

"Of course, I do", you smiled sarcastically. "Out of the two times he's talked to me, I haven't been beaten up, I'm not in the hospital and I'm not dead!", you threw your hands up. "I didn't even get in trouble with any cops because of him! Of course I need help with that guy!".

The man stayed silent as you gave him your most sarcastic smile. Then you shifted back to you usual expressionlessness.

"Why do you think I need help?", you shrugged angrily. "Is it because I'm not big and buffed like the dogs he carries around with him?".

"That's not wha—".

"You think I'm weak? Is that it?", you stood up to face him. "Well, lemme tell you something, old man. This is not my first prison, and I've been surviving on my own long enough as to be able to beat the shit out of everyone in this place if I wanted to", you stared into his eyes with your brow deeply frowned.

"I didn't mean that", he spoke slowly, definitely more calmed than you. His eyes flicked down for a moment before looking back into yours. "I jus' thought that, in case he wants to fuck you up real bad, you'd be better with someone by your side".

You cleared your throat and stepped back, looking up at him.

"Someone by my side, huh?", you resisted the urge to laugh. "Because I can't handle myself well enough?".

"I already told you I didn't mean—".

"I know", you chuckled this time. "I'm just fucking with ya", you sat back on the bed. "I understand that you feel alone in here and want a friend. And who better than the new inmate, right?", you gave him a knowing smirk. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Shit, you caught me", he sat beside you as well. "I feel so lonely in this prison", he chuckled. "I'm Francisco, by the way".

"Francisco? What kind of name is that?", you bursted into laughter.

"Jus' call me Frankie, goddammit. No need to make a big fuss 'bout it", his mumbling made you laugh more.

"Yeah, Frankie's a definitely better name".

You spent a couple minutes like that, just laughing at the stupidity of it all. Truth be told, you hadn't laughed that hard in months. And you needed it.

"So", he said after a while. "What's in the bag?".

"I don't know", you looked down at the paper bag in your lap. "A guy just came and gave it to me".

"D'you wanna open it?", he looked at you with hooded eyes.

"I don't know", you took a deep breath. "I don't think I should, but they didn't tell me not to".

"Are you seriously gonna do what he says?".

"What else am I supposed to do? He's gonna fuck me up real bad if I don't", you let out a deep sigh. "I'll find a way out of it".

"What'd he threaten you with?".

Your blood ran cold at his question. You could tell how your face went pale, and your knees would have failed to keep you steady if you weren't seating.

"I'll take care of that", you said, looking at the ground. "I'll just do whatever he wants me to and stay outta trouble for as long as I can", you opened the paper bag, pulling a small disposable phone. "Huh", you put it back were it was. "What a little shit", you mumbled.

"It's a phone now, but what if it turns into somethin' else?", Frankie got up, still looking down at you. "You have to stand up to him—".

"I said I'll take care of that", you stood up to face him once again. "Whatever he does to me, it's my problem, not yours", you stared into his eyes. "I understand you're concerned, and I appreciate it, but you can't be behind my ass all day long. I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself".

Frankie stayed silent for a minute, processing your words. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again:

"Right", he nodded once. "I'm sorry, you're right".

"Right", you nodded, too. "Glad we're on the same page", you let out a heavy sigh. "Oof, sorry. I get pretty carried away when I'm angry".

"Yeah, I can see that", he chuckled. You laughed back.

"Welp", you took the paper bag with the phone and threw it into your pillowcase. "I better not use this thing before that asshole comes looking for it".

"Yeah, you better not".

You could tell he was uncomfortable now. He didn't now what else to say. You knew you usually did that to people who tended to assume you were as weak as your body showed. That was actually one of the reasons why you had learned to survive using violence most of the time, and probably the main cause of your anger problems.

Before you could speak any apologies to him, you heard the walls and doors being hit outside, followed by cops shouting.

"Lights out! Everyone get to sleep!".

You looked at Frankie with a regretful expression. You felt bad for having caused him to be so taken aback and awkward.

"I better get goin'. Cops won't see me in my cell, might be suspicious", he said.

"Yeah", you nodded. "I'll... see you around".

"Sure", he walked out. "See ya".

Fuck, you cursed yourself.

Perfect. The first friend you made in prison ever and you screwed up your first non-violent chat. You could swear you had never felt so bad for taking your anger out on someone else.

Wait.

You had never felt bad for taking your anger out on someone else. That was actually what you were the best at.

Frankie was a good man. You somehow knew it. And you somehow knew he didn't deserve to suffer your anger problems as well. You had started off on the wrong foot, you also knew that well. Maybe the first thing you should do to try and fix it was apologizing. For treating him that bad the first times you talked, for taking your frustration out on him, for showing him the you no one like him should meet—

"Hey", a cop outside your door startled you. "Lights out and get on the goddamn bed".

"Yessir", you turned off the lights and laid on your bed as the cop closed your door and walked away.

You sighed, trying to close your eyes while thinking of what you would say to Frankie when you saw him next morning.

A beeping sound woke you up. You eyes opened in a sudden move and you looked around, confused, despaired.

Two cops were sitting beside your hospital bed, not seeming to have noticed you awake.

Suddenly, everything came back and your memories hit you like a truck.

Your unsteady and heavy breathing alerted the cops. They both stood up and got on both sides of your bed. You tried to get up, a stinging pain in your stomach keeping you laid down. You lifted the hem of your shirt to see it covered by a large gauze, a little bloodied.

Your mind was dizzy as the cops told you about your current medical condition, and about the twenty-five years you were going to spend in prison for murder and trying to commit suicide afterwards.

At least you had gotten rid of your worst nightmare.

"Hey", you sat next to Frankie in the dining room. He smiled at you.

"Hey", he made room for you to sit more comfortably. "You get some sleep?".

"Yeah", you forced a smile. "Kinda", you cleared your throat. "I, uh... Sorry for how I acted yesterday. I didn't have the right to talk to you like that".

"It's fine. I'm like that sometimes, too", he shrugged it off.

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have—".

"Hey. It's okay, really", he stared into your eyes. "I understand you have... difficulties managin' your feelings, and it's alright", you saw the beginning of a smirk forming on his lips. "I've seen more o' those around here and they don't deal with it as well as you do".

His chuckle made you laugh back.

"Whatever, old man".

You spent the day talking to Frankie, walking around with him, getting to know him. Turns out you were right: he was a good man. And maybe he was a bit too sweet to be in a place like a prison, but he seemed to be doing well. You somehow knew he wouldn't have trouble if he suddenly got into a fight.

The next few weeks went just like that. You stuck to Frankie, and Frankie stuck to you. You found in him the first person to be close to you in a long time. You found a friend in him. He didn't judge you, didn't treat you like the rest of people in you life had. It's not like he knew either, but you really didn't need him to know. There were already enough people in that prison that knew.

Perhaps too many, you thought one of the times you thought about telling Frankie.

So you just accepted the fact that he would probably be your only friend in that prison, and maybe for the rest of your life. Maybe you didn't even have to tell him about—

"Well well well", a pair of hands fell on your shoulders as you picked up your freshly washed clothes. "Look who's alone today, huh?".

"The fuck do you want?", you turned around. There was that asshole again.

"You seem to be nice friends with that cap guy, huh?", he gave you a sarcastic smile. "What did you tell him 'bout us?", his expression shifted very quickly to one of pure anger.

"I didn't tell hi—".

"Bullshit!", he grabbed you by the neck of your shirt and pushed you against the wall. "What did you tell him? You asked for help, huh? Like the pretty little bi—".

You punched him right on the face before he even had the chance of finishing the sentence. He let you go and pulled away to recover, touching his now bloodied nose. The men behind him took a step forward, but he signaled them to stay back. And he just laughed.

"I. Told him. Nothing", you repeated. The guy in front of you sniffed and chuckled again.

"Wow", he stood up. "You have guts, gotta admit it", he fixed his nose. "Maybe I did cross a line there. I'm sorry", he shrugged. "Be careful, though. Next time, my dogs won't be as merciful", he looked back at them and nodded. Then he approached you. "You better not tell that fucker anything of our agreement. Wouldn't want the whole prison —including him— knowing what you really are, huh?".

You didn't say a word, but your silence was enough answer for him.

"Good", he cleaned the blood off his nose. "See ya around, little one".

Once again, he walked away.

Part of you felt relieved because you hadn't gotten yourself nor Frankie into trouble. Part of you still cursed yourself for being so fucked up.

That is how you survived your first year in that prison: doing favors to those pieces of shit and sticking to Frankie. You had learned a lot about him —what he used to do before ending up in prison, how he got there, the reason why he didn't get any visits...

You also told him all of that. What you used to do before ending up in prison, the reason why you didn't get any visits... You might have lied a bit when you told him how you got there, but he seemed not to notice —or at least not to mind that you did. Maybe he wanted to give you some space, and he understood that your situation was complicated. Whatever it was, you thanked him in your mind for not asking any more questions about it.

You became closer to him that you ever planned on. He talked to you every day, seemed to be the only one to care about you in that shitty place, made sure you were doing okay even with the assholes behind you. He even seemed not to want to let you go too far away from him, except when necessary. And even if you hated to admit it, being around him —or well, having him around you— made you feel safer than if you were by yourself. You and him both knew you weren't with him for protection —you could take care of that yourself. But he still made you feel protected, but not weak. And you didn't want to admit it, but you knew you had felt that before.

And it really, really scared you.

Of course, you kept having your disagreements with the group. Many disagreements. But you managed to keep it cool so that they would leave you and Frankie alone, which they surprisingly did. And you didn't get caught by the cops around either, which was also a surprise, but you wouldn't complain. Not when you had managed to keep you and Frankie out of trouble.

Yep, I've fallen so hard, you said to yourself one day. You were scared to admit it, but you weren't doing to lie to yourself about something you already knew.

"Well, hello", you turned around to see him standing behind you on the shower stall, scanning you up and down. You quickly wrapped your towel around your body and started getting dressed, trying to let him see as little as possible.

"What do you want?", you made sure to sound upset this time.

"You got what I was waiting for?", he sat at the bench outside the showers. You grabbed a small bag with herb from inside your pants and tossed it at him. He put it in his pocket. "Good".

He stood there, watching you, but he didn't say anything else. You frowned, trying to decrypt his expression. It wasn't the one he usually had. He seemed to be eyeing you with pity, but had at the same time he had a knowing look.

"Want anything else?", you crossed your arms and leaned on the lockers. He kept his pitiful, knowing look displayed on his eyes.

"Yeah", he looked down for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you about something. It's not about me this time, promise", he moved to the side of the bench and patted the spot next to him so you would sit. You reluctantly did. "You see...", he cleared his throat. "There's one of my dogs that... Well, actually a couple of 'em... that know about your... physical condition", he stared into his eyes.

Your heart started beating quickly, anger cursing through your veins.

"Some of them have been in here for a quite some time now, and... Well, they haven't had fun in a while, and since you're doing me some favors, I thought you wouldn't have trouble doing some to the—".

Your fist crashed against his face, this time harder than the last time you had punched him. Your other fist did, too. One, two, three, four times, you lost count.

"You think I'm some slut you can sell?! Huh?! That's what you like?! Fucking little boys like me?!", you spat on his face, hitting it again and again. "You fucking pervert, son of a bitch, piece of—!".

Now it was his fist what impacted on your face.

You fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He got on top of you, just like you had done with him, and started punching your face again and again and again.

Eventually, you lost conscience of your surroundings. Probably one of his blows hit you somewhere in the brain and left you dizzy. You could just feel more pain in your face and head, even though you couldn't even lift your arms or legs to try and defend yourself. The only thing you got to hear before you fell completely unconscious was how someone pulled him away from you and grabbed you to take you somewhere.

He was in his cell with his cellmate —who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you.

The truth about you.

Frankie didn't want to believe it at first. He couldn't. But the more he thought about it, more sense it made to him. Aside from your short frame and your beautiful little face —focus, Frankie, this ain't about that—, your explosive personality and your obsession over you being too weak or small kind of gave it away. It actually made sense. It was true.

He went that same day —after the night of your encounter with that fucker— to check on you to the infirmary. He wanted to know how were you doing, and he wanted to hear from you the truth of all the scene those guys were making over you. He was told you weren't conscious yet, but he stayed nonetheless —grabbed a chair and sat beside your bed.

He had been watching you ever since you got in that prison. And when the group got inside your cell that day, his suspicions about you were confirmed. You were exactly what they needed. Why would a little man like you make the cops think you were dangerous? Simple, you weren't. That's why they picked you out of everyone.

You were right thinking Frankie wanted to protect you from them. Not because you were small —he was sure you could defend yourself just right— but because he needed to, because his heart told him it was the right thing to do. That's why he insisted on approaching you as well.

He knew you were going to be close friends the moment you apologized for talking to him in such a rude way. And he knew he liked you too much for his own good. But honestly, he didn't care. The need to protect you made him not care at all. It actually just made him embrace his feelings more. It never really bothered him to be attracted to someone. He knew he was a bit of a lovestruck guy, and whenever he knew he liked someone he didn't hesitate to admit it —unlike you.

He told you what he used to do before ending up in prison, what he did to end up in there, the reason why he didn't get any visits... He wouldn't usually tell someone that, but it was different with you. He had the feeling that you understood him, that you could empathize with him and wouldn't judge him for just anything. On the other hand, he knew you were lying to him about why you ended up in prison and why you didn't really have any friends —in or out. But he knew it wasn't easy for you —he had already seen how difficult it was for you to keep your feelings controlled, so he didn't want to push things unnecessarily further. He wanted to give you your space, since he knew he had already kind of taken that from you the moment he insisted on continuing to talk with you.

Or at least he wanted to, until he saw that asshole beating the shit out of you in the shower stalls.

Frankie got there just in time before he punched all the teeth out of your mouth. He pulled him back and hit his head against one of the lockers, leaving him unconscious as well. Then he grabbed you and took you to the infirmary. He stayed there long enough to hear them say you were going to take some time until you were fully recovered, and that you would probably be unconscious for a couple days. He also heard them mention the other guy was better than you, that his time in bed would be briefer than yours.

A cop came to them both and asked them about what had happened. Frankie could only say that he had seen that asshole already beating you when he arrived. The cop could only say he would have to do extra work for a week as a punishment for leaving the other guy unconscious, but at least he understood Frankie just wanted to protect you.

"You did good", he said to him.

Then he went to talk to the other guy. And Frankie could only fist his hands and hope no to break anything.

"I was asking him to help me with something in the shower and he just started punching me!", was what he said.

"What about the wounds on his face?".

"Well, I had to protect myself!".

"Sure", the cop wrote something on a paper, then stood up. "As soon as you're out of bed, you're being transferred to the next block".

A smile formed on Frankie's lips as the guy shouted complaints at the cop. Still, he knew you weren't safe. Not yet. Not even with him away. And he knew his dogs were everywhere —this block, the next, the prison some kilometers away from that one...

But he would still try to keep you out of danger.

The next day, he was in his cell with his cellmate—who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you.

The truth about you.

He grabbed your hand softly in his, examining your broken knuckles and bloodied skin. He should have known better than to leave you alone like that in the shower stalls. He should have been with you. He should have protected you, like he had told himself he would.

"I'm sorry", he whispered.

Distant voices woke you up. A female one and two males. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but you didn't need to. You remembered everything pretty well.

You tried to stretch yourself, despite the way your face was hurting terribly. Still, you couldn't move one of your arms. Your hand was being held by another.

You opened your eyes and saw Frankie sitting beside you, his hand holding yours even with his eyes closed. As soon as he felt you move, he opened them and sat up, staring into your eyes.

"Oh god", he breathed out. A smile played on his lips as he examined you. "You okay?".

His question made you laugh.

"Well, I've been better", you smiled at him. "But I'll survive", you looked around. "How long have I been...?".

"Four days. Well, three and a half", he swiped his thumb over the back of your hand, you figured involuntarily. "They've been taking good care of you".

"I bet...", you looked down at his hand on yours. Frankie pulled away as soon as he saw you do it.

"Sorry—".

"No, it's okay", you were the one to grab his hand this time. "I don't mind...", you whispered that last part. Frankie tried to hold back his own smile. Then something he remembered made it go away as soon as it had come. "What?", you stared into his eyes. He kept swiping his thumb small soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Will you tell me—", he paused to breathe; "What's the deal with you?".

"What do you mean—".

"I know you lied to me, Lost", he tried to keep it cool, but his eyes gave away how mad he was at you for not having told him the truth and having gotten in so much trouble because of it. "I... I already know... a bit of it, but—".

You turned around to try and find the asshole that had shattered your face, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"They moved him a block away from here", he answered even before you could ask. "He still had the chance to spread the rumor, though".

"Shit", you whispered to yourself. You looked down, biting your downer lip and trying to stop your own tears from coming out, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your face.

"Hey", he grabbed your chin softly, careful not to hurt you more than you already were, and made you look at him. "Tell me what's wrong", he spoke slowly. "Whatever it is, I don't care. It'll still be you no matter what", he caught a tear halfway down your face, his skin grazing lightly against yours. You took a deep breath.

"A... couple years ago... I had someone really close to me", you sniffed. "I... He got me... pregnant... And...", you dried off your tears. "I didn't want... I couldn't..." you took a shaky deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "He also tried to... run away...", you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "He was into drugs... and was told to move... Without telling me...", you sighed in an attempt to ignore the way your breathing was starting to get heavy and your chest was starting to hurt. "I couldn't take it anymore", you sniffled again and looked away from Frankie, unable to maintain your eyes on his piercing look. "I shot him. And...", you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal a big scar that went across your stomach. "I shot the baby, too", your voice broke.

"Oh, Lost", he reached out to grab and hug you. "I'm so sorry", he rubbed your back, trying to calm you down a little. You held tight onto him, squeezing him as close to you as you could.

He kept you in his arms for a while as you cried out your grief. Everything made more sense after you told him the truth. He finally felt like he understood you, really understood you and your feelings. And he finally felt like his feelings were resolved, just like yours.

He had to leave when some cops came to interrogate you about what had happened in the shower stalls a few days ago, but he promised to come back to see you that night. In the meantime, you answered the cops' questions and tried to rest as well as your pain allowed you to.

You got out of bed a week after that. The first thing you did was hug Frankie, since he was waiting outside the infirmary. He took you to your cell, staying by your side and not walking more than two steps away from you. Everyone was looking at you either with a weirded out expression or with hungry eyes. As soon as you noticed, you got even closer to Frankie.

That was the moment you gave up on trying not to look small or weak. Every single man on that prison was now trying to fuck you or fuck you up. Damn, you had never felt so vulnerable.

Good thing I have my brick wall over here, you thought.

Frankie could see the looks the other inmates gave you, and the ones you gave them. If he felt like he had to protect you before, now he felt even more responsible —especially since he had let that motherfucker beat you like that. He felt guilty, and even though you tried to tell him it wasn't his fault he couldn't get that thought out of his mind.

"Look at me", you grabbed his jaw, making him look at you, just like he had down a week before when you were still in that bed in the infirmary —though this time you were in your bed. "It wasn't your fault. I told you it was my problem and that I'd deal with it, and so I did".

"I know", he stared into your eyes. "But if I had done something, if I had gone talk to him or—".

"You couldn't, Frankie", you tightened your grip on his jaw. "Look, he had threatened to tell everyone if he found out I told you anything. It would've happened sooner or later, I just exploded when he asked me to do that with he and his men", you let go of him. "Think about it this way —if you hadn't come just in time to stop him from beating me to death, I wouldn't be here right now", you patted his thigh. "So you saved me anyway. And I also got you to keep me away from those creeps", you both laughed at that.

"I guess you're right", he sighed. "Still sorry".

"Didn't I just tell you not to be?", you crossed your arms and stared into his eyes with a frown. He couldn't help the smile that crept on his lips.

"But I still am", he crossed his arms as well. "What, am I not allowed to be?".

"Not if I tell you not to be".

"Ooh, getting bossy", he chuckled. "I like that".

"Okay, now you're acting like one of those freaks out there".

"Come on, y'know I'm not like—".

"Shut up, old man".

You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. A slow, passionate, nice kiss. Frankie stayed still for a moment before replying with just as much passion. You then pulled away to look into his eyes. You were both smiling.

"Wow", he whispered. "Didn't think you'd take the lead".

"Well, someone had to, and you didn't seem to be going to, so...", you grabbed his hand. "I couldn't bear the sexual tension anymore".

"Oh, sexual tension?", he rolled on top of you. "We can fix that...".

"No! Gross! Get away!", you laughed and pulled him off of you.

"Why?" he approached again, leaning down to leave a trail of small kisses down your neck. "I wanna...".

"Frankie, no", you pulled him off again, this time with a serious look on your face. Frankie's smirk was immediately deleted when he saw you, and seemed to be asking for an explanation. "I... I can't", you looked down. "Not like this, I'm... not ready", you cleared your throat before looking back up at him.

"M'kay", he grabbed your hand once more. "We won't do anythin' you don't wanna".

You smiled at him, thankful. He understood that you needed space and you weren't ready yet to show him that part of you. And he would respect you and your decision not to. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, make you push him away from you. So he put it back in his pants and gave you a comforting smile.

He stuck with you all the time, by your side, not daring to leave you alone. Whenever some guy would look at you with a weird face, he gave him a warning look —or push him away from you both. He didn't let anyone other than the cops get close to you, which you thanked him for in multiple occasions. For once in a long, long time, you weren't afraid of being too small or weak. You weren't worried about your looks anymore. You weren't worried about anything with Frankie beside you. He was your only reason to want to keep going despite being in a place such as that damned prison. The only reason why you wanted to keep going at all.

The only reason why you preferred spending twenty years in prison before being back out in that shitty world.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you

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