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Summary
Being a mafia boss means thinking on your feet.
Like when the bartender you just flirted with walks into the middle of an execution.
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- English
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Bookmarked by kingkonglear
17 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
holy fuck
holy fucking fuck
that fic of yours is absurd -
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Summary
When Mecha Man Astral died, his legacy died with him, his murder never solved, his son left behind, and his Astral Pulse never seen again.
Fifteen years later, Robert Robertson III, working under the name Mecha, is still chasing down leads on his missing birthright. Leads that always end up turning up nothing. After his latest failure to locate the Astral Pulse, Shroud gives Robert a new mission: infiltrate the SDN as a dispatcher. A laughably simple job.
Well it would be, if he could keep his eyes off of Flambae for five fucking minutes.
The closer they're drawn to one another, the harder Robert's inevitable betrayal will be. For both of them.
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Summary
The man was in a suit that almost reminded Robert of something from Cirque du Soleil, all skin-tight, shimmering fabric with bursts of red and orange and a V-neck that showed a lot more than neck. The wrap-around sunglasses didn’t even look that ridiculous.
Infuriatingly, he managed to be beautiful, like a Monet in an Ikea frame is beautiful. He had changed very little in the years since Robert first encountered him, at least physically. Robert couldn’t say the same.
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- English
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- 19/?
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Bookmarked by kingkonglear
05 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
WAITER WAITER !!! ONE MILLION MORE CHAPTERS PLEASE!
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Summary
To call Robert's new situation with Flambae ‘complicated’ would be a drastic understatement.
Robert cut his fucking fingers off. Flambae tried to burn him to death after a bar fight. They aren’t good for each other, barely even like each other, and there’s no way it’s going to end well.
But when the sex is this fucking good, Robert is having trouble listening to the logic.
Or, the one where they become fuckbuddies and catch feelings.
(Everyone pretend to be shocked.)

