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zepskies · 8 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said.

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though.

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…”

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

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avastrasposts · 10 months

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 25 **

Dealing with the aftermath of the fall of the Arlington QZ, the four make their way towards a new destination.

Series Master List

Warnings have their own post, please heed them (this chapter contains smut, yay!)

Word count: 9.1k (jeez...)

Convincing three ex-soldiers that you were in fact just as perfectly capable of doing watch duty as they are, hadn’t been easy. But simply refusing to go to bed and standing up eventually worked and now each night was split into four shifts, all of you taking turns on the different slots. Although you quickly figured out that if you had the shift right after Frankie, he’d try to stay up, claiming he couldn’t sleep while hiding increasingly massive yawns.

This night you found yourself at the window of a cabin Frankie had spotted late that same afternoon, the three men sleeping in the two bedrooms just off the main room. Benny’s soft snores rumbled through the half open door to the room he shared with Pope. In the other room, you could hear Frankie tossing and turning, not sure if it was a nightmare or if he was having trouble falling asleep. He’d done the first shift tonight and should be fast asleep by now, it was your turn to take the third shift before Benny took the last one tonight.

You hung Frankie’s rifle over your shoulder and quietly made your way over to the bedroom door. Frankie is asleep, but he’s tossing, his hands twisting the blanket under him. Softly stepping inside, you sit down on the side of the bed, gently running your fingers through his unruly curls. Over the years you’ve learnt that it’s the best way to calm him without startling him. Sometimes just the feel of your fingers through his hair is enough to calm him, without even waking up.

Fingers carding through his curls, gently scraping against his scalp, you sit back so that you can see the front door. Being on guard duty never became easier, you always felt on high alert, but it kept you from falling asleep, your constant ready state preventing you from giving in to the fatigue your mind felt. In truth, you were perpetually tired, ever since the mad dash from Arlington, constantly on alert, only sleeping when Frankie was next to you and one of the others on guard duty, but even then your sleep was fitful. You knew the events of Arlington had left a mark on you, the last twenty-four hours in the QZ replaying on a loop when you closed your eyes. Frankie noticed it too and although he hadn’t said anything yet, you could feel him watching you more closely.

Pope had led you out of the QZ, mainly through abandoned, closed off buildings and across rooftops, following routes he and Frankie had used many times to avoid FEDRA. Now you were hiding from the infected that were spreading through the QZ. The screams you heard from behind you were heart wrenching, but there was nothing to do but run.

Eventually you’d all scrambled down a well hidden ladder into an old car tunnel, Benny pulling the heavy crate that covered the opening back in place. Once outside the QZ, you’d kept jogging along the highway it turned into. This close to the QZ the highway was cleared regularly of any infected that might stray onto it, but as you ventured further away, you had to move slower, be more careful.

“The grim silver lining of what Cox did,” Benny said at one point, “is that most of the infected in the area are now on the inside of the QZ, and I shut the gate behind them.”

“Yeah, but pretty soon the entire QZ will be infected, all those people,” you’d replied, “I just hope they don’t get out.”

“And let’s hope no one tries to get inside the QZ either,” Frankie said, the thought of what that person would face giving you shivers.

Since then you’d been traveling for a month or so, walking most of the way, but getting lucky and finding a car that worked and had gas twice. Taking turns driving, you’d covered a lot of miles until you were forced to leave the cars behind when the roads were blocked. Soon after leaving Arlington, Frankie and Pope had led you to three of their caches that they’d stashed between the QZ and their regular meet up points. Their supplies meant the four of you were well equipped, although pretty heavily loaded, your muscles ached under the weight of the backpack but you refused to complain. You pack was lighter than the others, you could barely lift Benny’s pack, but he shouldered it every day like it weighed nothing. And if you said anything, all three would immediately volunteer to take more of your share. You adored them, but their tendency to self sacrifice for your comfort made you want to smack them, lovingly, including Frankie.

Frankie settled down under your hand as his breathing grew more even and you stopped stroking his curls, just sitting next to him for a little while. When you were certain he was sleeping soundly again you snuck out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you. Back out in the main room you silently opened the front door of the cabin, stepping out onto the porch. The cabin sat under large oak trees, right at the edge of a forest and tucked into the tree line. The wide open field in front was well lit by the full moon, giving you a clear view of the surroundings. Closing the door behind you, you quietly walked around the cabin, the porch wrapped around it all the way, and you stopped when you came to the back. The forest behind the cabin was dark, none of the moon light managed to penetrate the thick canopy and it made you uneasy. You peered into the blackness, your ears straining to hear anything apart from the usual sounds of the forest. The night time sounds had petrified you the first few nights but now you’d learnt to discern the rustling of animals and trees from anything more sinister. This forest was quiet, you heard an owl hoot nearby, and then the soft swoop of its wings as it swept down from the trees.

“Hey,”

Benny’s soft greeting behind you makes you jump and spin around, startled, and you hear his soft chuckle.

“Jeez, you're too silent, Ben,” you hiss at him as he comes to stand next to you.

“Sorry, old habit,” he apologizes and leans against the railing of the porch, “All quiet?”

“Yeah, nothing all night,” you reply, mimicking his stance. “I didn’t realize it was time for a shift change already?”

“I’m a bit early, another old habit,” through the dim light you can see his crooked smile, “Go to bed, I’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks, Ben, I owe you one,” you give him a pat on the back and head back into the cabin.

Back in your room you softly close the door and start unlacing your boots. Pulling off all of your clothes except a soft t-shirt you push back the covers and carefully slide in next to Frankie. You think he’s still asleep but as soon as you’re close enough, his arm comes out and pulls you closer.

“Hermosa,” he mumbles, his eyes still closed, “all quiet?”

“Yes, baby, go back to sleep, Benny’s got the watch,” you whisper, kissing his forehead as he circles your waist and hooks his leg over your hip.

“Mmmok…” is his only response and you feel his body relax, growing heavy again.

It takes you longer to fall asleep, you try to relax, listening to Frankie’s calm breaths, but your mind doesn’t want to shut down. The third shift is always tricky, sometimes your brain seems to think you’ve slept enough and you have to face two hours of staring into the dark room before it’s time to get up. You carefully turn in the bed, onto your back, Frankie’s leg slips off your hip and lays heavily across your belly. You stare up at the ceiling for a while, watching the moonlight trace patterns across it through the crack in the curtains. With a sigh you roll over on your side, your back against Frankie, sleep still eluding you and you feel Frankie shift behind you, his arm tightening around your waist.

“Can’t sleep, amor?” he mumbles, his voice is rough with sleep but he sounds awake this time.

“No, I’m not tired enough,” you turn around so that you’re facing him and he tucks his arm under your head, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“Wanna take advantage of being in a bed for a change?” he asks, nudging his nose against yours, “I know a very good way to get you to relax.”

“Benny is right outside and Pope is sleeping in the next room,” you smile, he’s already started trailing little soft kisses along your jaw, you can feel the tip of his tongue slipping out and licking your skin while he grins.

“So? We’ll be quiet, we can do that, can’t we?” he breathes into your ear, sending a wave of shivers down your spine, making you break out in goosebumps that Frankie notices. With a smile he runs his tongue over them, they’re pebbling your throat and with a soft hand he tilts your head back so that he has better access. A gentle nip with his teeth makes you inhale sharply and he chuckles.

“Cállate, cariño, quiet now.”

“Stop doing that then,” you whisper with a moan, his mouth is leaving damp marks all over your throat as he moves up towards your ear again, making you bite down on your lips as he sucks a mark into your sensitive skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks and you can feel his smile against you, he’s buried his face against the crook of your neck and his hand on your waist is slipping under the covers, tugging your leg over his hip.

You consider it for a second, Benny is really just outside with sharp hearing and on high alert for any noise, but on the other hand, Frankie’s hand is now caressing your thigh, curving around your ass and opening you up enough to feel his rapidly hardening length against your core.

“No,” you murmur, dipping your head against his curls, heat is pooling between your legs as he rocks his hips into you, “please don’t stop.”

“Let’s just hope this bed doesn’t squeak,” he smiles under you, testing the springs of the mattress with an experimental thrust. The bed groans but stays silent and you choke down a giggle. Frankie’s hand is sliding in under your t-shirt, not wasting any time in finding the edge of your panties and slipping his fingers inside. Gripping his curls with your hand you pull his face up to yours, making him swallow down your moan when the rough pad of his finger finds the top of your slit, pushing in to find you hot and wet. The feeling of your silky folds makes him hum into your mouth.

“Either you’re always wet for me, hermosa, or you get really turned on by the idea of Benny hearing us.”

“Shut up, Frankie,” you smile against his soft lips as he slides his fingers further down, grazing over your clit with his palm. The contact makes you shiver, a small spasm traveling through your body and Frankie gently tugs on your bottom lip, a smile curling up the corners of his lips against yours. Hiding your whimpers when two of his fingers slowly push inside, you press your mouth to his, finding his tongue and toying with it. He lets it follow the rhythm of his fingers, sliding in and out, and curling back over a soft spot deep inside that he knows makes your pussy clench hard around him. Another spasm racks your body and your whimper into his mouth, his name escaping with a moan.

“Sshh…” he mumbles, “stay quiet for me, baby.” His fingers are slowly pumping, his hips rocking against you as he tries to give some friction to his hard length pressed between your bodies. “I want you to come but you need to stay quiet, or I’ll never hear the end of it from Benny.” The heel of his hand comes down over your clit, sharp pleasure spiking through your system, making you keen against his mouth. His hand in your hair presses against the back of your head, pulling you closer and muffling your whimper but he doesn’t let up his pace, slipping deep inside you, aided by the heated liquid that’s leaking over his hand, making his palm slip over your clit.

Pulling back a fraction from your mouth he glances down between your bodies, “Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad, you’re dripping for me,” he pants, rutting his cock against your hip in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of the pressure making the head slick with precum. He can feel his boxers slip over the sensitive tip. “Next time we’re in a safe place, I’m spending an hour between your legs before anything else.”

His words make you whimper again and he quickly presses his mouth against yours, his tongue slipping between your lips and licking against yours. You can feel your climax building rapidly now, moaning into his mouth as he pushes a third finger inside, making you buck your hips into his hands as the stretch around him shoots electricity through your system. His thumb replaces his palm, circling tight and fast around your clit and you squeeze your eyes shut, digging your finger into his shoulder, your heel into his leg, to bring him closer.

“Frankie,” you moan, lips pressed against his, “please…”

The tension breaks like a tightly wound coil, making you throw your head back and bite your lip hard, hissing out a long held breath as Frankie pumps his fingers, making your climax drag on until you curl back around him, melting into his arms, panting into his chest. Only then does he pull out his fingers, greedily licking them with a grin as you watch with half closed eyes.

“Good?” you ask with a smile, and he nods, smacking his lips.

“I meant what I said about an hour between your legs, it’s high on the list of my priorities. But first,” he lifts your leg off his hip and tug down his boxers, hissing gently when the fabric catches his aching cock, “Let’s test the springs on the bed.”

“Or, let’s test Benny’s hearing,” you grin as you shimmy out of your panties, tossing them over the side of the bed.

“I hope he’s on the other side of the build- oh fuck that feels so good, cariño,” Frankie inhales with a hiss as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“I love how hard you get for me, Frankie,” you whisper, moving closer again so that you can put your mouth on his neck as he tilts his head back.

He only whimpers in response, biting down on his plush bottom lip as you swipe across the head, the pad of your thumb sliding over the slit and gathering a fat drop of precum to slide down the length.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans in a low rough growl as your fist squeezes him, making him buck into your warm hand.

“Cállate, Francisco,” you tease him with a giggle, sliding up and gathering more of the slippery liquid, “How do you want me? From behind? On top? Or maybe like this?” You hook your leg over his hip again and run the tip of his length through your folds, breath catching as you graze over your clit, but it’s Frankie’s moan that’s loud this time, before he can catch himself it slips out.

“Shit, he must’ve heard that,” he pants, grabbing hold of your hip, “LIke this, please, mi amor, I- fuck-” he groans as you guide him to your opening, his fingers digging in to your hip as the blunt head stretches you, pushing in.

The angle makes it a tight fit and Frankie tugs your knee up higher on his hip, thrusting into you as you press your forehead to his, your fingers tangling in the damp curls at his neck. He feels impossibly big as he rocks his hips and drives deeper, low groans escaping him. His breath fans over your face and you see his soft pink lips, half open with every gasp, the tip of his tongue peaking out. He looks pained and exquisite at the same time and you lick into his open mouth, catching his tongue between your lips.

You can feel him moaning into you every sharp slap of his hips, at the back of your mind you know both Benny and Pope can definitely hear what’s going on, but at the front of your mind is only the mounting pleasure surging through your limbs. Frankie pulls away from your lips, his hand leaving your hair and grabbing hold of your shoulder as he buries his face against your neck. The fingers on your hips will leave bruises tomorrow but so will your grip on his back, you’re trying to meet each thrust with your own, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grinding against your clit every time he bottoms out, making your whimper into the top of his head.

“I’m- I’m, fuck, close,” he grunts, still trying to keep his voice low, pressed against your neck, “pl-please, come- you first.” His teeth grazes over the spot just under your ear that he’s made his personal favorite, loving the way it makes you wet if he puts his mouth on it. When you’re this close to coming, the feeling of his teeth leaving a mark there, a sharp, pleasurable pain that makes you gasp, tips you over the edge. He plows into you, his cock burying itself deep inside, and he feels you clamp down around him, his hips stutter as you convulse, your nails digging into his shoulder as you keep a strangled cry pressed against his hair. His own release is only moments away, he pumps once, twice, before wrenching himself out and taking his cock in hand. He spills himself over your belly, your thighs, gritting his teeth and pulling your lips to his in a frantic kiss. Your breath is hot on his mouth, flowing into him as he breathes into you. His head is spinning, heart pounding and with a groan he forces himself to relax, the last of his orgasm ebbing away.

You feel Frankie’s hand leave your shoulder and slip into your hair, his large hand cupping the back of your head as he holds you to his forehead.

“That…” he breathes heavily over you, “was not quiet.”

You suppress a giggle, your heart still racing, “We are gonna get so much shit for this tomorrow,” you whisper, “but it was worth it.”

“Anytime, hermosa,” he chuckles, “Do you think you can go to sleep now?”

“Yeah, a couple of more hours would be nice,” you roll over onto your other side and search for Frankie’s arm, pulling it over your waist as he cradles you from behind.

“I love you, Frankie,” you mumble, pressing your lips to his hand, “you being here makes this whole shit show of a world worth it.”

He nuzzles his nose into the back of your head, “I love you too, mi amor,” he whispers, “We’ll get to New York soon, and hopefully things will be ok, we’ll be safer.”

You hum a low response, sleep already pulling you under.

It feels like no time has passed but it has been a couple of hours when Pope’s knocking wakes the two of you up.

“Time to get up, sleepy heads,” he calls, “coffee is almost done.”

“Thanks, Santi,” you mumble as Frankie growls into the back of your neck. Pushing yourself up you feel the dried remains of the early morning activity stretch your skin.

“I need to wash off,” you murmur, “can you come with me?”

“Kiss me first,” he mumbles, trying to pull you down again, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sit on the edge of the bed. You bend down and put your hands around his cheeks, smushing his plush lips together before you kiss them. Frankie chuckles and pulls you closer, his hands slipping up along your back.

“You’re always extra warm and soft in the mornings, even now,” he mumbles against your lips, “can we just stay here?”

“Sure, if you want Benny walking in on your morning wood,” you smirk, letting your hand cup his half hard length under the covers.

“I can’t wait for us to have our own apartment again,” Frankie sighs and you push yourself off him again.

“Clean up time, my sweet, dirty man.”

Getting clean while walking cross country was a bit of a challenge. You’d keep watch while all three guys shamelessly stripped down and scrubbed off in any lake or stream you happened to come by. You kept your back turned as much as possible but it soon dawned on you that neither Santi or Benny were bothered if you accidentally saw a butt or two, Santi even told you to check him out because; ‘I know my butt is better than Frankie’s so please enjoy some primo ass for a change, hermana.’ earning him a quick slap over the head by Frankie while you and Benny doubled over laughing.

You’re not as comfortable about getting naked in front of the two of them so they walk away and Frankie stands guard while you clean up, taking the opportunity when you could. This cabin had a stream nearby and yesterday you’d all filled a few buckets and hauled them over to the porch. While Santi and Benny made breakfast, Frankie and you took turns washing off. The cold water woke up and by the time you got back in again, dressed in fairly clean clothes, you felt pretty good.

“Morning,” Benny greets you both in the kitchen, “sleep well after your shift?” he asks, his attempt at an innocent look ruined by the grin that’s threatening to take over his face.

“Thank you, Benjamin, very well,” you say pointedly, your eyes telling him to keep his mouth shut. Although you knew it was pretty much useless to try, he might give you a break but Frankie would hear it all the second you were out of earshot.

“Coffee, cariño?” Frankie asks, holding up a mug, speaking over Benny who’s opened his mouth again to reply to you, smiling from ear to ear.

“Thanks, I’d love some,” you say as Pope walks into the kitchen, carrying his and Benny’s backpacks.

“You two were way too fucking loud this morning,” he growls, Santi’s morning temper isn’t great and today he seems to have woken up on the wrong side. Unfortunately Frankie and you were probably the reason behind that and you feel a bit guilty.

“Sorry, Santi,” you say, handing him your coffee as a peace offering, which he accepts, still frowning, “we were trying to be quiet.”

“Hermana, I love you, and I love Frankie, but please…” his frown melts into a pleading look, “I do not need to hear him make those noises.”

You bite your lip to stop from grinning and Frankie shuffles behind you, “Lo siento, Pope,” he mumbles and as he passes you to grab the freeze dried rations, you see the deep flush of his neck.

“It won’t happen again, Santi,” you say, your grin is definitely breaking through again but you can hear Benny snickering by the camping stove and his mirth is making it very difficult to suppress your own giggles.

“Oh it will definitely happen again,” Santi says with an exasperated sigh, “Please just don’t do it with me sleeping next door.”

“I thought it was great!” Benny chirps, “took me like ten minutes to figure out where the noise was coming from, I thought it was maybe bear mating season or something.”

“Can we just drop it now?” Frankie moans with a pained look on his face, “I need breakfast, Benny, here’s the rations.”

“Of course you need breakfast, Fishsticks, hard work making your girl come twice in like five minutes,” Benny slaps his shoulder with a chuckle and you feel the heat rising in your own cheeks this time.

“Ok! I’m going outside now,” you say, ducking out of the front door, but not before catching a glimpse of Frankie’s beet red cheeks and what is definitely a bit of a proud smile.

Shortly after you’d all left the Arlington QZ you’d decided to try to get to New York. The city had been hard hit on outbreak day and consequently bombed heavily in the following days. Most of the city’s inhabitants had been killed, either by cordyceps or the bombs. Only those fortunate enough to leave early enough to escape the gridlock on the bridges and in the tunnels survived, the rest were essentially trapped on the island as the infection spread and then killed as the army bombed as much as they could. According to Benny, Manhattan had been close to a wasteland, a no-go zone until FEDRA moved in a few months after the outbreak. They’d spent considerable resources and time clearing the city, erecting a wall and turning it into one of the largest QZ:s. Thanks to the layout of Manhattan, literally an island, it was fairly easy to contain. Bridges and tunnels had been destroyed to prevent infected from getting across the water and the wall had been erected on the northern border of Central Park, leaving most of Manhattan inside the QZ zone. Thanks to radio contact Benny knew that Central Park had been turned into farmland to contain the small QZ population and that they were taking in new inhabitants to help rebuild the city.

At the back of your mind you also thought that maybe you all wanted to go to New York because any word you’d ever had about Will, was a rumor about a man that fitted his description during the early months of the outbreak. Outwardly Benny had been dismissive but Hannah had told you that he’d never given up hope that he would at least find out what had happened to his older brother. So when Benny suggested New York might be the best destination despite it being a very long journey, you’d all agreed.

After breakfast was done and packed up you left the cabin behind, although a bit reluctantly. It felt safe, tucked away at the end of a long winding trail with no other houses nearby and plenty of game in the forest around you. It was tempting to rest here for a few weeks, gather supplies and prepare more dried meat while the summer fruits and berries came into season. But being out in the open, continuously vigilant, put a strain on you all and getting to New York felt like a priority, to get behind the relative safety of walls again.

As usual, Frankie took the lead. All three men were able to navigate using the sun and natural markers, but to Frankie it seemed more like pure instinct than skill. He always knew where north was and could read the terrain to lead you all to water or high ground without even thinking about it, his sharp eyes always spotted danger or shelter first. So he took the lead, Benny or Pope behind him, and you, always in the third spot, protected from the front and the back.

Today’s goal is to reach a low mountain top Frankie had spotted yesterday, the aim was to climb it to get a good lay of the land before he adjusted the course to continue heading north east up towards New York. It took you most of the morning to get to the mountain and climb it, you made camp for lunch just below the ridge, looking out in the direction you needed to go. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw something other than just woods and fields, in the distance you spotted houses, the early signs of what used to be civilization, and on the horizon, high rises.

“Do you know what city that is, Frankie?” you ask him. You’re sitting on a flat rock, he’s sunk down on the dry grass below it, leaning against your legs while he chews the dried meat that Pope has handed out for lunch.

“With a bit of luck, Philadelphia,” he replies, “but if we’re too far south, Washington.” He squints his eyes and tries to make out any landmark among the indistinct high rises in the distance. “I’ve tried to make sure we crossed Lebanon Valley but I didn’t see any signs to confirm it.” Frankie had led you all west of the Appalachian mountains for weeks, wanting to avoid the more populated areas to the east of the range. A week ago he’d finally decided that you were far north enough to turn east and cross the mountains, seemingly able to find trails that took you through the passes and avoided the high mountain tops as if he’d lived in Appalachia his whole life.

“Once we get close to populated areas again we’re gonna have to be very careful,” Pope commented, looking over at Benny. “What do you know about the area?”

“Hit hard during the outbreak,” Benny says, “I mean, it was one of most densely populated areas in the country, millions of potentially infected. But it was also bombed heavily, just like New York, so hopefully not that many infected, but on the other hand, it’s going to be a bitch to traverse.”

You look back out over the landscape in front, nervously chewing on your lip, as you imagine the hordes of infected that stand between you and the New York City QZ.

“You’ll draw blood, hermosa,” Frankie’s soft voice interrupts your dark thoughts as he gently tugs your bottom lip from between your teeth. “We’ll go slow, be careful, as always,” he says, taking your hand as you slip down onto the grass next to him and pull his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, low enough so that only Frankie can hear you. “I wish we could stay at the cabin.”

“Me too, cariño, but you know it’s not safe enough in the long run,” he pulls you closer, leaning your head against his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head. “I’ll keep you safe, mi vida, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Don’t let anything happen to you either,” you whisper, closing your eyes to the view in front of you and focusing on Frankie’s soft shirt and warm smell.

That night you bed down in a derelict camper van you find crashed on the side of a small forest road a few miles from a town. It was the closest you’d been to any town in weeks and it made you all jumpy. Everyone slept in their clothes, boots on, and guns next to the bed, ready to get up in a split second. It was your turn for the final shift and Frankie got up when you did, despite your whispered protests, but he was stubborn. Together you stood outside the camper van door, leaning against the side of it, while the sky gradually lightened. The night had been quiet, it had been a long time since anything had disturbed a watch, but Pope had been nervous when he handed over to you.

“I didn’t see anything but…I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right,” he said as you and Frankie stepped outside. It was his unease that made you stop telling Frankie to go back to bed, Pope was right, it felt like something was perpetually just out of sight. You stood silently side by side with Frankie, straining your eyes into the darkness, a forest on one side and the road heading east, over a small clearing in the distance. Everything around you was silent, a noticeable lack of any noise, even the soft rustling or low cracks you’d come to expect from unseen animals moving through the darkness. It made your hair stand on end and when Benny appeared at the door, announcing that it was time to get going, you were relieved.

Skipping coffee in favor of just chewing on beef jerky while you’re walking, you soon leave the camper van behind and it doesn’t take long before you get close to the small town and have to detour to skirt around it. The four of you had decided early on that any town you came across was avoided unless you absolutely needed to find supplies. So far you’d managed to avoid all towns, looting farm houses and cabins instead. You’d been lucky too, only twice had the houses you’d entered had infected in them, both times you’d heard them before they attacked, making it easier for the guys to take them down.

So with the town to your right, you follow Frankie’s lead and skirt around it, staying hidden as much as possible. Everyone’s head is on a swivel, but Frankie’s more than usual. He’s looking up at the sky and over towards the horizon and when you’re in a small cluster of trees he stops.

“We’re heading towards the river,” he says, pointing towards a highway bridge in the distance, “and that bridge will be our only way across.”

“Not ideal,” Pope rubs his hand over his face, scratching at his beard, “We’ll be exposed and it’s impossible to see what we’re walking into with all the cars and trucks.”

“But the option is the town, and that’s just as bad, right?” you ask and they all nod.

“Yeah, the town is even worse,” Frankie says, looking towards the bridge again, “The problem is, I don’t know if there’s any other way for us to cross, I don’t think we can swim it with the gear, our backpacks won’t float.”

“Any other bridge further upstream?” Benny asks but Frankie shrugs.

“I don’t know, I saw this bridge from the mountain but we were too far away to make out any other.”

“So the options are; town, which is a no go,” Pope holds up his index finger,” The bridge, better than the town but still risky,” he holds up a second finger. “Or walk upstream, hoping for a bridge or a boat,” he holds up a third finger. “I vote bridge, we don’t know how long we’ll have to walk to cross the river otherwise. Anything comes at us on the bridge, we’re equipped to handle it.”

“I think I’m with Pope on this,” Benny says, looking at Frankie who nods.

“Yeah, bridge. If we keep walking upstream we’re heading back into the mountains.”

“Ok then,” Pope says, “let’s prep and get ready.”

‘Prep’ you’ve learnt means to double check all guns and make sure they’re loaded, easily accessible and everyone is on high alert. It’s become standard procedure every morning and before each watch shift, but also when you’re walking into something that could potentially develop into a situation. It also means you take up your spot as third in line, Frankie in front of you, while Pope or Benny lead.

It doesn’t take long to get to the bridge, using one of the highway ramps to get up to it. All conversation stops as you’re surrounded by stranded vehicles, moving as quietly as possible and staying low. The vehicles around you have all been looted, suitcases and bags lay open next to almost all cars, picked over by whoever else has covered this stretch of highway since the outbreak. Several vehicles have dead bodies in them, withered and decomposed, picked clean by animals and birds over the years, but you barely register them anymore. As long as they’re not sporting any cordyceps growths, they don’t bother you.

The four of you reach the top of the bridge and start making your way down, the highway stretches out into the distance but a short way down you see the first off ramp. It’s blocked by a big eighteen wheeler truck standing sideways, but it looks like you can get past and Pope leads you towards it.

The gunshot comes out of nowhere and makes you jump, it hits the asphalt a few feet in front of Pope who instantly drops and raises his rifle. The nearest cover is behind you, a row of cars some thirty feet behind Benny, but as he turns another shot rings out, landing in front of his feet and this time you see where it comes from. Three men are ducked behind the cars and as you all raise your guns, a voice calls out from behind. “You’re surrounded, put down your guns!”

You look behind you as Frankie drags you against him, pulling you in between himself and Pope, you can feel your heart racing, and Frankie’s hand is digging into your wrist. Pope’s turned towards the voice and up on the eighteen wheeler you see rifles and the heads of three more people. Six guns are trained on you and there’s no cover. You glance at Frankie, he’s following Pope’s lead, and you all lower your guns and drop them on the ground, raising your hands over your heads. Frankie is pressed against you, Pope on your other side and you can feel the determination in both of them to turn this situation around. Glancing over at Benny you see him give Frankie a quick nod, his jaw clenched tight.

“Secure them!” the man on the truck calls down and the three men behind the cars come forward, their guns still aimed at the four of you. You feel Frankie shift his weight closer to you and turn his head slightly to Pope, there’s a quick nod between them.

“Drop to the ground when we move,” he whispers to you and you nudge his foot with yours, letting him know you heard him.

“Step away from the guns,” one of the men on the ground calls and you all obey, stepping closer to the three men.

“Spread out and turn around, face the truck,” the same man says again and you reluctantly do as he says, the guys step into positions almost willingly, but they’re unarmed now and there are six guns aimed at you. You know they have a plan but you don’t see how they'll get all of you out of this unharmed, no matter how good they are. You bite your lip, panic is rising and you glance over at Frankie, he looks determined, staring straight forward, waiting for the man behind him to step forward and grab his arm.

“Cariño,” he whispers, barely moving his lips, “drop, now.”

It happens so fast you can’t really say how it happens. When the man reaches up to grab Frankie’s arm he swings around and you drop to the ground and from the corner of your eye you see Pope move too. A body drops to the ground next to you and a hand grabs the back of your jacket, yanking you backwards, cutting into your throat for a second. .

“Don’t shoot!” someone yells and the hand at your back pulls you up to your feet again. Frankie’s got his arm around your waist, putting himself between you and Pope. You glance at Benny, he’s got one of the men in front of him, the man’s body like a shield between himself and the men on the truck. The man’s gun is now in Benny’s hand and pointed at his head. Pope’s got the second man in the same position and the third man, the one that reached for Frankie’s arm, lies dead on the ground, his head at a wrong angle.

“Lower your guns and come down here!” Pope calls up to the men on the truck. “Or you know what will happen.”

You feel Frankie push you backwards, keeping himself in front of you until you reach the cars and you crouch down.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, before he rejoins Pope, aiming his rifle back at the men on the truck. They’re nervously looking at each other.

“Get a move on,” Pope calls impatiently, “you’re outnumbered and seeing as you’re the ones who attacked us, I’m not feeling very charitable!”

The three men seem to shift, glancing at each other and Frankie loses patience.

“Get a fucking move on,” he snarls at the men, “or one of your friends gets a knee capped.” The rifle in his hand shifts to the knee of the man Pope’s holding and the man whimpers.

“Don’t, please don’t,” he begs.

“Tell your friends to hurry up then,” Frankie’s rifle is pushed up against the soft cartilage of his knee.

“Please, get the fuck down!” he yells, his voice cracking, and the men on the truck seem to come to a decision, laying down their guns and shifting towards the edge.

You peek out from over the bonnet of the car as the men slide down to the asphalt of the highway.

“Turn around, on your knees,” Pope orders and the three men reluctantly comply. Frankie turns back to you and motions for you to come forward.

“Grab my rifle, aim at them while I tie them up,” he says and you nod, shouldering the heavy weapon. Grabbing the cable ties from the dead man on the ground he makes quick work of tying the men up, pushing them onto the ground once their arms are done and securing their ankles with cable ties too. He then does the same to the two men Pope and Benny are holding, until all five men are lined up on the asphalt.

“Now what?” you ask as the four of you gather out of earshot from the men on the ground, “We just leave them here?”

Frankie frowns, glancing over at Pope and Benny and then back at you.

“We can’t,” Benny says, “if they break free or they have friends nearby who come find them, they’ll come after us.”

“We interrogate, get as much info as possible and then we eliminate,” Pope glances over at the five men, “and we bring one with us as insurance.”

“And a guide,” Benny nods, “this was a planned ambush, they probably have a base nearby so they know this area, a guide would be good.”

Pope nods but Frankie looks unhappy, you’ve been staring at him as the other two talk but now your eyes snap back at Pope.

“‘Eliminate’?” your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, “you mean ‘kill’?”

Pope looks at you, as if he’s suddenly remembered you’re not trained the way they are. “I’m sorry, hermana, I know it’s cold but what options do we have?”

“They were going to rob and kill us,” Benny says, “at least the three of us, you they probably would’ve kept alive and you know what that would’ve meant.”

You look over at the five men trussed up on the ground, they’re quietly struggling against the sharp bite of the cable ties around their wrists. The sight of those white plastic straps shoot a jolt of panic through your limbs, you remember all too well how those same kind of cable ties bit into your wrist as the rancid blonde man groped you after the ambush on the way to Franklin. You know Benny is right, this would’ve been the same thing but maybe with a less fortunate ending.

You grit your jaw and nod, looking over at Pope, “Ok, do it.” He nods back and looks over at Benny.

“Let’s start with the leader, the guy who called the shots from the truck, we make him break the others will follow, I think.”

Frankie reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a gentle tug, “C’mon, cariño, you don’t need to see this. We’ll check the other side of the truck while they get on with it.”

Shaking your head, you don’t let him move you, “No, I want to see how you do it, I need to learn this too.”

“You shouldn’t,” he pleads, squeezing your hand again, “please, cariño, c’mon.”

“I should know how to handle dangerous people, how you get information from them too,” you reply, shaking your head as you pull back your hand from his, looking over at Pope and Benny, as if you’re asking them to step in and take your side. But they drop their gaze, Pope glances over at Benny, before retreating back towards the five men on the ground, leaving you and Frankie to stare each other down. Frankie’s jaw ticks as he grits his teeth, shaking his head at you.

“I don’t want you learn this, this is the kinda stuff that fucked me up, this broke me,” he steps closer, looking down at you with an anguished look in his soft brown eyes. “Please, you’re the one thing that’s still truly good in my life, I want to keep you safe from this too.” His hand comes up and cups your cheek, he’s really pleading with you now and you feel your resolve crumbling.

“We do what we have to do to survive, hermosa, and sometimes that means we’re ruthless,” his thumb is stroking over your cheek bone as he speaks, his voice soft and imploring, “but it takes a toll on us and we all pay that every day. I’ll do anything to avoid you having to go through the same thing. Please, let me protect you from this.”

You glance over at Pope and Benny again, they’ve pulled the five men around and they’re now sitting with their backs against the wall of the highway, looking up at the two Delta Force soldiers towering over them. You can see the fear in their eyes already and you look back at Frankie.

“Ok, Frankie,” you say and you see relief wash over him as you nod, “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” he replies, dropping his hand to your waist and guiding you away from the men and towards the truck. There’s a gap big enough to pass through between it and the highway wall and Frankie goes through first, quickly covering the area with his gun. You step through after him and look down over the highway off ramp. There are vehicles all along it but the nearest one is a camper van with an open door and a backpack outside. Tapping Frankie on the shoulder, you point to it and he nods. Quietly advancing with his handgun raised, you’ve got yours out too, he listens for a minute before he quickly scans the inside.

“It’s empty,” he says, waving you inside as grabs the backpack from the ground outside. “Six backpacks, six men, I think we found their camp,” he motions to the packs on the floor. “Or at least their temporary camp, we’ll see what Pope and Benny find out. C’mon, let’s see if there’s anything useful.

Just as you climb inside you hear a man shriek in pain from the other side of the truck and you wince, Frankie grabs your arm and pulls you inside, pulling the door closed.

“Will they torture them for information?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level as you open the nearest backpack.

“Not unless they have too,” Frankie mumbles, pulling out items. “They, we, always tried to scare them enough so that we didn’t actually have to do anything, but that doesn’t always work.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working now,” you say, as another scream cuts through the badly insulated camper van walls.

Frankie sits down on the couch next to the window and discards a rusty looking knife from the pack before he puts it down.

“Will used to say that the effects of committing extreme violence on other human beings are biological and physiological, that it was the price we paid for being warriors.”

You stop and look over at him, he’s rubbing his hand over his face, down over the scruffy beard, before he looks up at you again. “When I was on a mission I’d just be focused on finishing the mission. Alive. I did what I had to do and what I did didn't catch up with me until afterwards, when I was back home and safe.” He puts out his hand for you, “Come here, I need to talk to you about something.” He scoots in on the couch, making room for you next to him and he turns as you sit down, facing him.

“When you fought Myers, I never got a chance to talk to you about that afterwards, what you did to him, how it made you feel.”

You swallow and drop your gaze onto your hands, you know Frankie’s noticed a change in your behavior, especially your sleep pattern. You didn’t exactly have nightmares, but your mind would refuse to shut down, leaving you overly tired and stressed as you slept less and less. More than once you’d notice Frankie watching you during the day, a worried look on his face, but he’d never said anything, until now.

“I play it on a loop, the fight,” you mumble, and Frankie’s hand finds yours, his thumb stroking soothing circles into the skin, “and Benny’s gun aimed at him, and then Pope, when he killed Cox. I keep seeing it when I try to sleep. And I can’t sleep if you’re not with me,” you admit, looking up at him again and Frankie nods. “I’ve noticed, you’re always awake when I come back from my watch,” he puts his arm around your waist and pulls you closer, tucking you in under his arm.

“I know you’re right there, either just outside or standing just by our camp, but when I close my eyes,” you swallow, a lump has formed in your throat, “I keep seeing Myers and I keep thinking I’m there on my own, that none of you were there, and then I remember that you were there but then I can’t stop thinking about all the the ways you could’ve been killed or all the ways you could’ve been killed today or can be killed tomorrow and then-” your words are rushing out and Frankie can hear the panic rising in your voice, gently he puts his hands around your face, holding your gaze up to his as you blink back tears.

“Breathe, just breathe, cariño,” he whispers, leaning your foreheads together so that you can see his warm, brown eyes staring into yours. He breathes in and you mimic his rhythm, without realizing your fists have grabbed onto his shirt, bunching up the fabric as you cling to him, but he holds you steady, his warm hands on your cheeks as he makes you follow his slow breathing.

“Tonight I’m going to start teaching you some techniques Herb taught me,” he says when you’ve calmed down a bit. “I should’ve thought of it earlier, I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Frankie runs his thumbs under your eyes, drying the tears that spilled out and you lean into his touch.

“I thought it would pass, that I just needed to get somewhere safe and I’d feel ok again,” you admit as he pulls you into his chest so that you can rest your cheek against his warm flannel shirt.

“You spent all that time with me, the fucking king of PTSD, and you thought it would pass by itself?” he chuckles lightly above you and you smile.

“Good thing I’ve got you then.”

“Yeah, at least I can help you now, silver lining and all that,” you can hear him smile into your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s go through the rest of the bags before we have to leave.”

You pick through the supplies in the camper van and as you leave, you see Ben coming through the gap by the truck, followed by the youngest looking of the five men that had ambushed you. Pope’s right behind him, pushing him through the gap. The man’s hands are tied behind his back and there’s a rope attached to the cable tie around his wrists.

“This is Morrow,” Pope says, nodding at the man in front of him, “He claims he can guide us right to the New York QZ gates so we’re gonna see how far his word is good for.”

Morrow looks petrified, but otherwise unharmed, but there’s splashes of blood on his cheek and jacket. He throws a nervous glance back at Pope who motions for him to start walking.

“Did you find anything useful?” Benny asks you as you fall in line behind Pope and Morrow.

“A few bits and pieces, some food, some ammo,” Frankie replies, keeping an eye on the prisoner guide at the front. “Can we trust him to not lead us to more of his friends?”

“Yeah, from what the others said, there was only them,” Benny nods, “They’re part of a smuggler gang in New York that came out here for a trade. The trade went bad, they were attacked but managed to kill them. The fire fight left them low on ammo and alerted FEDRA so they decided to try to gather resources and lay low outside the QZ for a while. They’ve been ambushing travelers for a week only so we got unlucky, or lucky, depending on how you see it.”

“How do you know what they tell you is true?” you ask Benny, glancing back at him and you notice his eyes flicking to Frankie’s back before he clears his throat.

“We separate them, and then ask one guy to tell us what they know and tell him that if the information he gives us doesn’t match the information the other guys gives us…” Benny trails off as if he’s considering his next words, “so, we- we tell him there will be consequences if the answers don’t match up.”

“I’m guessing those consequences aren’t pleasant,” you ask, but it’s rhetorical, you already know, the screams you’d heard told you that.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Benny mumbles, catching the frown Frankie gives him over the shoulder.

“Ok, silence now, please,” Pope calls softly from the front, as you reach the end of the highway off ramp, faced with an urban landscape that stretches to the horizon where you can just about make out a familiar skyline, New York City.

Chapter 26

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics

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lolahasmoxie · 10 months

Text

let's get to the good part (e.m)

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x childhood best friend

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts (some somno stuff because yes, please), awkward conversations, Eddie and Wayne being cute AF.

Part 3 in my series. Takes place right after Part 2.

Part 1 / Part 2

You pulled your car into Benny's parking lot. After turning off the engine, you sat staring ahead, hands on the steering wheel. This was different from how you had foreseen your Saturday going.

It had started with Eddie's face between your thighs, setting your senses on fire as the sun began to crest over the horizon. He had also managed to sneak into the shower with you under the guise of "conserving water." It took minutes for you both to resort to a tangling mass of giggly limbs as he took you under the shower spray.

That was part that you had planned for. You weren't prepared for Eddie on the phone as you exited your bedroom after getting dressed. You weren't prepared for Eddie to tell you that Wayne and Ronnie wanted him to ask you to join them for breakfast.

Now you were here. You had taken your own car because you weren't ready to answer Ronnie's questions. And you knew he would have questions because he was amazingly perceptive for a four-year-old and Eddie's nosy mini-me. You would also have to sit in front of his uncle and pretend like Eddie hadn't completely ruined for all other men the previous night.

The bell over the door announced your arrival, and you didn't have to look long before you heard Ronnie calling your name. You couldn't help but smile as you saw Eddie and Wayne wave at you. The elder Munsons were seated on one side of the booth, and Ronnie all but dragged you to sit next to him. Before you could even say hello, he told you about what he and Grandpa Wayne had done the night before.

"Whoa, son," Wayne chastized as Eddie flagged down a waitress. "She just got here; try again."

"Oh yeah," he said before getting on his knees on the booth seat to see you better. "Hi."

"Hi, Ronnie." You couldn't help but smile as he told you about his night. While he recapped the scary movie he had watched with Wayne, you couldn't help but glance up to see Eddie looking at you. His pretty face rested on his hand, his gaze making you feel the same warmness you had felt when he woke you up. When he winked at you, you were shocked you hadn't melted into a puddle on the linoleum floor.

45 minutes later, after you'd had much-needed coffee and waffles smothered in maple syrup, you wondered if every Saturday could be like this. You were laughing at a story Wayne told when Ronnie alerted the table that he needed to pee. Wayne offered, but Eddie shook his head.

"I'm on the outside; I got him. Let's go, little man." You couldn't help but watch the two of them. The way Ronnie looked up at Eddie, the gentle way that Eddie led him. Your brain couldn't help but conjure an image of Eddie leading another rugrat with his other hand. You were met with a knowing smirk when you turned back to Wayne.

"I take it Eddie stayed the night?" You nearly spit out the coffee in your mouth as he took a sip from his own cup. You buried your face in your hands as you willed the floor to swallow you whole.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Just a hunch," he said as he leaned towards you. "'Sides," he continued, "the way his face lit up when you walked in told me pretty much everything." Wayne sighed as he looked out the window in front. "You also didn't quite get that hickey on your neck." You grumble as your hand goes to cover the mark. "You know, he's loved you since he was 13 years old."

"He told me that last night." You admit, a coy smile on your lips.

"I don't think he knew what it was, but I could tell. You two were attached at the hip the moment you met," he chuckled. "thick as thieves, passed out in the living room every weekend while you watched those cheesy-ass horror movies."

You chuckled at the memories of your childhood. "We had to be sat apart in EVERY class we had together in elementary school."

"Oh, I know it," he replied. "When did you realize you loved him?" You sat silently, hating how Wayne could always read you so well.

"Beginning of senior year. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. It felt like someone had turned on this switch in my brain, and...boom." Wayne nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'm glad everything worked out. Just," he paused as he took a deep breath. "Eddie's always been a gentler soul than he lets on. He feels everything deeply; when Ronnie's mama ran out, he was a wreck. And Ronnie is the same way, so..."

"Wayne, is this your "don't hurt him or else" speech?" you ask with a grin. Wayne just shrugs his shoulders as he sips from his mug.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling. I know you'll be good to them. He really struck gold the day he met you." You want to cry at the compliment, especially since Wayne holds them close to his vest.

"All done!" Ronnie breaks the moment as he clambers next to you. "Daddy, let's go to the park! Y/N can come, and she can push me on the..."

"Whoa there," Eddie says as Ronnie practically vibrates in his seat. "Y/N might have plans today; you can't just assume..."

"It's ok, Eds," you interject softly as you glance down at Ronnie. "An afternoon in the park with my two favorite boys sounds perfect."

Later that night, Eddie carries a sleepy Ronnie to bed. When they left the park, Ronnie talked about how he couldn't wait to see you again. Eddie smiled as Ronnie drifted off midsentence when he tucked him in. When Eddie climbed into his bed, he wondered what you were doing. Within seconds he reached for the phone, dialing your number and hoping you were awake.

"Hello?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," you said softly. "Is Ronnie asleep?"

"Yeah. You know, he talked about you all evening."

"Oh yeah? I bet you hated that."

"I did, it was awful," Eddie said as he made himself comfortable. "I'm glad you came with us."

"Me too," you said softly. "Hopefully, I'll get to see you both..."

"I love you." There's silence after Eddie's gentle declaration. He can hear you breathe on the other end, and he can't stop himself from holding back. "I love you, and I know that this may be fast. I know it is, but nothing about this feels weird or wrong, right? It feels like this is all how it was always supposed to be, and I..."

"Eds." He stops when he hears you call his name. You wonder if he remembers any of his 3am declaration of love the night before. Still, it makes your heart palpitate. "I love you too."

"You do?" His voice is soft and unsure,

"Of course, after all this time, how could I not? And I agree; this feels right. Makes me think about all the time we wasted."

"Does that mean you might want to see me Friday?"

"Hell, I'd see you now if I wasn't afraid of falling asleep behind the wheel." He could hear you yawn; he could picture you stretching out in your bed. "So, is it a date?"

"Hell yeah!" he says enthusiastically but groans a second later." "Shit, Wayne won't be able to come over to watch Ronnie. He's going on a fishing trip with some guys from work."

"Just bring Ronnie." Your comment was stated like it was so obvious. As if there could be any other solution to this predicament.

"You mean it?"

"Of course, we could order dinner and watch some movies. And if you spend the night, we can get to the good stuff when he goes to bed." You can hear Eddie groan lightly, a smirk on your face when you realize you have him hook, line, and sinker.

"You're evil. You put a tantalizing situation like that in my head, and now I have to wait six days to see you again. You're a cruel mistress."

"I'll call you tomorrow night; we can talk then."

"Promise?"

"I promise," you giggle. "Love you, Eds."

"Love you too, Sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

"Night, Eddie."

"Night, Y/N." Eddie placed the phone back on the receiver. Oh, how he simply couldn't wait to get to the good part.

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

@kimmi-kat @feltonswifesworld87 @mrsmunsonxquinn @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @hahahafucku @emilyroxy @ihatepeanutss @mackyboo21

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #wayne munson #dad!eddie munson

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ikroah · 1 year

Text

Pistol packin' mama, lay that thing down before it goes off and hurts somebody! —“Pistol Packin’ Mama,” Bing Crosby (1943)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #24 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding III

Collaborative Issue! Guest Artist: @yesjejunus

«« First | « Previous || Next » | Last »»

Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

Oh noooooooooooo :(

These pages might get shrunken a little by Tumblr for some reason so either right-click to view at full-size or just read it on AO3 at the link above. And give a round of applause to my wonderful and wonderfully talented friend @yesjejunus who returns to guest art duty with this new issue, which is just another car crashing into the pile-up that is happening to Agnes in the closing half of Volume 2. Issue #25 will be all of my own art again, and I've been working for a long time on reinventing the look, feel, and production of IKROAH's artstyle so I hope you'll all be as excited as I am. Some really big things are about to happen.

Original Pencils

Here's another reason why mr. jejunus deserves a round of applause: patience. I talk often about how IKROAH is a very long-term project but this issue marks the longest collaboration in the history of the comic: the original pencils for this issue were drawn in August 2021. This was also when yesjejunus and I first discussed him doing guest art for this issue, and it would have been a lot sooner, of course, but you know, things (like months of burnout) can just happen. By the time this issue was finally next in the queue, I had committed to increasing the resolution of IKROAH's pages just to ease my own production, but these pencils were still formatted for the old size. I had to reformat these pencils for the new size and aspect ratio.

The tumblr editor keeps crashing every time I try to include them, so here's links instead: [1] [2] [3].

The thing about working with yesjejunus on comic issues like this is that at this point we're so deep in each other's heads that I barely even need to give him feedback. He understands the assignment completely because we're both sickos pressed against each other's brain-windows going "Yes…ha ha ha…yes!" and drooling. It's the kind of friendship as well as creative partnership that you really just treasure.

Transcript

INT. BENNY'S BEDROOM, THE TOPS CASINO, NEW VEGAS.

AGNES SANDS stares down, exhausted, at BENNY, the leader of the Chairmen and the man who shot her in the head.

BENNY does not stare back. He is dead. His eyes have rolled up lifelessly and blood is oozing from the gruesome wound in his skull.

AGNES looks away.

Suddenly—

SFX: KNOCK KNOCK

VOICE FROM OUTSIDE (off): Hey, Ben-man! Everything alright in there?

AGNES jerks up in surprise. She searches her surroundings frantically, looking for a way out. The gun that she shot BENNY with—the gun that BENNY shot her with—is still in her hand. She sees a side door, barely ajar, leading out of BENNY'S BEDROOM with a dim light coming from behind it.

AGNES sprints forward, her arm outstretched to shove open the door, and barges in. Then she freezes in her tracks. In front of her is a large and ambulatory machine, with claw-like arms and a computer monitor in its center. The monitor displays an unchanging vector of a happily smiling face. It speaks.

THE MACHINE: Hello! I'm Yes Ma—

AGNES raises the gun with both hands and fires repeatedly, her eyes wide and mouth agape in terror. She empties it of every single other bullet that was left in it.

THE MACHINE (shorting out): I-I'm sorry…!!

THE MACHINE crumples from the repeated shots, which shatter its monitor-face like a glass window and send it falling backwards. Its robotic corpse snaps and cracks with electricity and malfunctioning hardware as AGNES remains stunned in the doorway.

SFX: KNOCK KNOCK

AGNES looks up as BENNY'S men pound harder on the door to the suite.

VOICE FROM OUTSIDE (off): Benny! We heard shots! We're coming in!

AGNES drops the gun and flees through the hallway's secret private elevator.

VOICE FROM OUTSIDE (off): Oh, shit, somebody iced 'im! Get security!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #agnes sands #benny gecko #yes man #ikroah archive #volume 02 #24

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mariamariquinha · 1 month

Text

Writing Update

This post is out of respect for everyone who has been following me since I started sharing my stories here. I'll leave it pinned on the profile so don't worry!

Versos de Placer

I'm already well ahead of the last chapter, but I haven't touched the story in months for reasons of: I'm very tired. At some point I will finish it (I still need a good ending) and until that happens, I have no news about it. As soon as I have it, I'll let you know!

Bossa Nova

(i don't know why i used this gif but it somehow always makes me aware of how unhinged he is lol)

Update: I finished and it's already published! 😉

This one is closer to being published, but also without a date. Once I finish Versos de Placer, I'll be more comfortable just focusing on it and IT WILL BE THE LAST 'LONG FANFIC' AROUND HERE (at least for a loooong time). I'm experimenting with some ideas about it, revisiting what I've already done and what the next steps will be, but you can count on more Benny!

Narcos

When you go to my profile, you will see that Javier Peña and Steve Murphy are marked 'no longer writing for', and that is… the truth. Maybe in the future I'll come back to them, but I need the right idea and the right mindset, as this particular fandom is curiously complicated. Their stories are still available!

Requests

I'll close them here. Yeah, well, there's not much of a secret, so just understand that I don't have the constant writing capacity to meet demands in this regard. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to believe in a story instead of just writing it. I'll leave this in my bio too!

AO3

Since the end of last year I have been studying the possibility of starting to work more with AO3. It's a platform that I know little about, so I want to make sure I know how to use it before I start producing there. You will also find out when this will happen.

Last but not least... New characters

Everything I did outside the box (with Gurney, Dave York and Mike Duarte) were more writing experiments. I'm always open to doing something like that, as is the case with James Wilson (which I've been maturing and CONSIDERING), but for now the only characters I write for are:

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Blinders)

Horacio Carrillo (Narcos)

Will Miller (Triple Frontier)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

Benny Magalon (Den of Thieves)

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

Some always appear more than others, but they are all still in my orbit! Who doesn't love a mix of ambiguous police officers with ex-military men who need therapy and a dash of divorced university professors?

If you have any questions, my DM and ask box are open! 😉

#updates #writing

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calder · 10 months

Note

your enoch / mark post lives in my head all day every day bc i’m mildly obsessed w the book of enoch and i’m really interested in how you’re relating apocalyptic text to fallout - i don’t know much abt the games except for nv but i’n interested what lead you to connect texts like enoch to fallout n is dee’s system part of this framework/interpretation?

(i don't know what dee's system is offhand)

ive struggled with how to answer this. i think it is largely that i found the text so movingly beautiful even as it was wrong with every assertion. it is the manic scrawlings of a schizophrenic person, pseudopigraphally attributed to an antidiluvion, and purported to be the The First Book. the text is relentlessly vivid and evocative.

he'll spend pages rambling about how the sun orbits the earth and the moon is a woman, then left-turn into vague call for violence or attempts to describe the undescribable. i think this is my favorite part

1. Wisdom found no place where she might dwell; Then a dwelling-place was assigned her in the heavens. 2 Wisdom went forth to make her dwelling among the children of men, And found no dwelling-place: Wisdom returned to her place, And took her seat among the angels. 3 And unrighteousness went forth from her chambers: Whom she sought not she found, And dwelt with them, As rain in a desert And dew on a thirsty land.

while i cannot even comprehend Enoch's position, much less agree with it, i am rocked by the scope and beauty of the author's internal life conveyed by the text.

i was already using the phrase "fallout apocrypha" to describe my area of interest. the beauty inherent to people disagreeing about how fallout works & making shit up

i'd like to share my favorite piece of fallout fan art with you. the original post seems to have been blanked by tumblr for some reason. this is quick redraw of an old indigenous Benny concept I drew by Frank Odlaws. his later comment regarding the work is included as a readmore.

odlaws: " this was all left in the notes as reply to someone asking why he is speaking spanish if he is native but the context for this comic is that Benny is schizophrenic native american from a mexican tribe “my hc for benny is tailored to my own heritage for self indulgent reasons lol, so in this he is based on my people, which is an indigenous tribe in mexico, i hc that he isnt connected to the actual native language of his people, only the spanish they were forced to assimilate to in mexico just like english in america, and just like many native american mexican people lose touch with their tongue after generations of forced assimilation i sort of figured people would just know but thats kind of foolish of me lol, my people are the purepecha people, who have a long history of exploitation and forced assimilation as well as a running trend of people trying to break from the communities to find better lives because of how actively our communities are suppressed and exploited through actively violent means, history of revolution and communities trying to take law into their own hands even to this day which i think is pretty fitting for bennys arc in the comic and narrative of the game, seeing his story go from abandoning his “tribe” (what nv refers to as tribes lol) in search of dignity and security, and the whole quest to take things into his own hands to take the land, acting as if its rightfully his, feels alot more powerful when seeing it through the lens of a native man whos lost access to the pride of his people and history only seeing the desperate remnants of his once thriving community, where that idea of power and dignity seems so distant and foreign it almost feels like fantasy, the catholic imagery that follows his design also is very in line with my people, who created an entirely unique sort of image of Catholicism after it being so forced upon us they created an image of their own native religion thru the catholic lens as a means to continue our reality without fear of punishment”

#fnv #benny gecko #scripture #meta #v13

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iamsortableelms · 30 days

Text

Olivia Winchester

“I’m very good at getting answers, Sammy. Persuasive maybe. You can trust me. I promise.”

-Olivia Winchester to Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ G E O M E T R I C S ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Full name ↫

Olivia Calliope Winchester

↬ Nickname ↫

OC (by Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester)

Bud/Buddy/Red/Rockstar (by Dean Winchester)

Kit Kat/Kitty/Squirt (by Sam Winchester)

Chicken/Noodle/O (by Castiel)

Little Squirrel/Simba/Marmaduke

Liv (by everyone)

Livy/Calli (by Sam Uley)

Livia/Calliope (by Caius)

Darlin/Sunshine/Bunny (by Jasper Whitlock)

Kansas (by school friends)

The Beast (when referring to her wolf form)

↬ Age ↫

17-

↬ Birthday ↫

April 1, 1998

↬ Birthplace ↫

Lebanon, Kansas

↬ Zodiac ↫

Aries

↬ Height ↫

5’7”

↬ Gender ↫

Female

↬ Orientation ↫

Heterosexual

↬ Species ↫

Human, Part Witch, Knight of Hell (cured), Vampire (cured), Werewolf (partially cured)

Olivia is the only partial werewolf. Due to it, her brown eyes changed to an amber color. Sam and Dean believe it to be because of her part witch side that the cure didn’t work fully. Olivia is able to transform into a wolf, unlike werewolves, she doesn’t shift due to the moon. She shifts due to anger and can’t control it. She doesn't have the infectious bite of a full werewolf and silver doesn’t hurt her.

↬ Wolf Form ↫

American Red Wolf

“Cat’s out of the bag. Or should I say wolf.”

-Olivia Winchester to Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ A P P E A R A N C E ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Skin color ↫

Pale

↬ Eye color ↫

Green (human)

Brown (half werewolf)

Glowing Amber (changing to wolf form)

Amber (wolf form)

↬ Hair color ↫

Red

↬ Hair style ↫

Long, straight

↬ Fur color ↫

Warm brown, hints of red, tan stomach and under jaw

↬ Body Type ↫

Hourglass, healthy

↬ Scars ↫

Small scar on her upper lip, bitten by Tyler when she got too close to him in wolf form.

Claw marks on her ribs from a werewolf before she was able to kill it.

↬ Piercing ↫

ear piercings and belly button

“I could kill you and make it seem like an accident.”

-Olivia Winchester to Caius Volturi & Volturi guard.

╔════════════╗

♚ C L O T H I N G ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Outfits ↫

Plus band t-shirts from every old school rock band imaginable. Thanks dad.

↬ Accessories ↫

- Anti possession necklace

- Vial of holy water on a keychain

- Lighter

- Gun, with rounds of silver and iron bullets in differently mark cartridges

- Hell forged blade, curducey of the former King of Hell himself Crowley

↬ Vehicles ↫

- Red 1992 Honda CB750

- Red 1948 Ford Super Deluxe

“I thought you loved me. Guess all boys are the same.”

-Olivia Winchester to Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ P E R S O N A L I T Y ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Normal mood ↫

Normally curious

↬ Temper ↫

Hot headed

↬ Discipline ↫

Breaks rules

↬ Strengths ↫

Kind, physically strong

↬ Weaknesses ↫

Hurting her family

↬ Fears ↫

Losing everyone

↬ Soft spot ↫

Her dad and uncle

↬ Role model ↫

Her dads

“Who would have thought that little red would be painting the big bad wolf?”

-Olivia Winchester to Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ R E L A T I O N S H I P S ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Father ↫

Dean Winchester

↬ Mother ↫

Unknown to Olivia, Aspen Onyx Garrett, thought to be a witch or half witch

↬ Other relatives ↫

Sam Winchester (uncle), Castiel (like a dad, Destiel is real in this story.), Bobby Singer (surrogate grandfather) ♰, John Winchester (paternal-grandfather) ♰, Mary Winchester (paternal-grandmother) ♰, Jasper Whitlock-Hale (maternal-great-great-great-great-granduncle), Emily Whitlock (maternal-great-great-great-great-grandmother) ♰, Mr. & Mrs. Whitlock (maternal-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents) ♰

↬ Friends ↫

Men of Letters, Winchester Family, Castiel, Jack, Kline, Crowley, Bobby Singer, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Jody Mills, Benny Lafitte, Claire Novak, Stefan Salvatore, and Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert, Bonnie Bennett, Caroline Forbes, Matt Donovan, Alaric Saltzman, Tyler Lockwood

↬ Best friend ↫

Charlie Bradbury, Kevin Tran, Jeremy Gilbert

↬ Relationship status ↫

Single

“If you thought I’d let you do this by yourselves you must be even dumb then everyone give you credit for.”

-Olivia Winchester to Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ P A S S - T I M E ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Hobbies ↫

Working out, giving out nicknames to friends.

↬ Talents ↫

Running

↬ Sports ↫

Track

↬ Occupation ↫

Student, Hunter, Woman of Letters

“Sam. Pick up the fucking phone. I need Scooby for my Shaggy.”

-Olivia Winchester leaving a voicemail for Sam Uley

╔════════════╗

♚ H O M E L I F E ♚

╚════════════╝

↬ Location ↫

Constantly moving from hotel to hotel until recently. Her dad, uncle and her got a job in Forks, Washington about missing people and bodies drained of blood, as well as giant wolf like creatures. They are renting a house in the forest to keep eyes out and Olivia is going undercover as a student in the nearby school, Forks High School.

↬ House size ↫

Medium

↬ House type ↫

↬ Indoor description ↫

↬ Bedroom description ↫

“So you’re vamp royalty. That’s almost as dumb as sparkling in the sun.”

-Olivia Winchester to Caius Volturi

╔════════════╗

♚ T H E M E S O N G ♚

╚════════════╝

youtube

OLIVIA

one direction

01:25 ━━━━●───── 02:58

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

- Katherine McNamara -

#Youtube

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whenitgrowsbright · 1 year

Text

[ANGEL]

Who died?

[BENNY]

Our Akita

[ANGEL, ROGER]

Evita

[BENNY]

You make fun, yet I'm the one

Attempting to do some good

Or do you really want a neighborhood

Where people piss on your stoop every night?

Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head

This is Calcutta

Bohemia is dead

[MARK]

Dearly beloved we gather here to say our goodbyes

[COLLINS & ROGER]

Dies irae, dies illa, kyrie eleison

Yitgadal v'yitkadash

[MARK]

Here she lies, no one knew her worth

The late great daughter of Mother Earth

On these nights when we celebrate the birth

In that little town of Bethlehem

We raise our glass, you bet your ass to

La vie Boheme

[ALL]

La vie Boheme

[MARK]

To days of inspiration, playing hookey

Making something out of nothing

The need to express to communicate

To going against the grain

Going insane, going mad

To loving tension, no pension

To more than one dimension

To starving for attention

Hating convention, hating pretension

Not to mention, of course, hating dear old Mom and Dad

To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits

To fruits, to no absolutes

To Absolut, to choice, to the Village Voice

To any passing fad

To being an us for once... instead of a them!

[ALL]

La vie Boheme

[WOMEN]

La vie Boheme

[MR. GREY]

Ahhemm

[MAUREEN]

Hey, Mister - she's my sister

[WAITER]

So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad

Three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter

And one pasta with meatless balls

[ROGER]

[COLLINS]

It tastes the same

[MIMI]

If you close your eyes

[WAITER]

And thirteen orders of fries

Is that it here?

[ALL]

Wine and beer!

[MIMI & ANGEL]

To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries

To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese

To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo

To Huevos Rancheros and Maya Angelou

[MAUREEN & COLLINS]

Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion

Creation, vacation

[MARK]

Mucho masturbation

[MAUREEN & COLLINS]

Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new

[COLLINS]

To Sontag

[ANGEL]

To Sondheim

[FOUR GIRLS]

To anything taboo

[COLLINS & ROGER]

Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunnigham and Cage

[COLLINS]

Lenny Bruce

[ROGER]

Langston Hughes

[MAUREEN]

To the stage

[BOHEMIANS]

To Uta, to Buddha, Pablo Neruda too

[MARK & MIMI]

Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow

To blow off Auntie Em

[ALL]

La vie Boheme

[MR. GREY]

Sisters?

[MAUREEN & JOANNE]

We're close

[ANGEL & COLLINS]

Brothers!

[MARK, ANGEL & MIMI]

Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens

Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men

Pee Wee Herman

German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein

Antoniotti, Bertolucci, Kurosawa

Carmina Burana

[ALL]

To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstacy

Václav Havel - The Sex Pistols, 8BC

To no shame - never playing the Fame Game

[COLLINS]

To marijuana

[ALL]

To sodomy, it's between God and me

To S & M

[BENNY]

Waiter ... Waiter ... Waiter ... Waiter!

[ALL]

La vie Boheme

[COLLINS (SPOKEN)]

In honor of the death of Bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner. Maureen Johnson, just back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will perform Native American tribal chants backwards through her vocoder while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she ain't never studied!

[ROGER (SPOKEN)]

And Mark Cohen will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on the high holy days

[MARK (SPOKEN)]

And Mimi Marquez, clad only in bubble wrap, will perform her famous lawn chair handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred. And Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song...

[*Roger plays a solo*]

That doesn't remind us of "Musetta's Waltz!"

[COLLINS (SPOKEN)]

Angel Dumott Schunard will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub

[ANGEL (SPOKEN)]

And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:

[ALL (SPOKEN)]

"Actual reality - Act Up - Fight AIDS"

[MIMI]

Excuse me - did I do something wrong?

I get invited - then ignored all night long

[ROGER]

I've been trying - I'm not lying

No one's perfect. I've got baggage

[MIMI]

Life's too short, babe, time is flying

I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine

[ROGER]

I should tell you

[MIMI]

I got baggage too

[ROGER]

I should tell you

[ROGER & MIMI]

Baggage

[ALL]

Wine and beer!

[MIMI]

AZT break

[ROGER]

You?

[MIMI]

Me. You?

[ROGER]

Mimi

#in response to that fucking christian sex ed #the lyrics of la vie boheme!#save

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flutteringphalanges · 2 years

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Everything You Hold Dear

Summary: For the first time in awhile, blissful rest had finally found Jim Hopper. He laid there, lost in his dreams. It was only when the panicked shouting of his wife ruthlessly yanked him out from the darkness and into the cold light that he realized a new, living nightmare had only just begun. "Hopper, where's Will?!"

(AU that follows the story if Jopper was canon prior to 1x01 and how that would completely change the canonical story we know).

Rating: T

Pairing: Joyce/Hopper

Read on FFN and Ao3

A/N: Here’s chapter two to this story! Thank you for all of the love and support! Comments, reblogs, and hearts are greatly loved and appreciated! Enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Two: In The Dark

“You asshole, I just got this damn truck a week ago!”

Hopper didn’t even have a chance to step out of his car when he saw Callahan desperately dancing between the two arguing men, trying to prevent the impending brawl. Muttering under his breath, he strolled up to assess the situation.

Parked against the curb were two vehicles; a red Chevrolet Longhorn and an old Buick whose blue paint job had seen much better days. From a glance over, the car seemed to be unharmed, no marks that he could make out at least. The truck, however, was a different story. Crouching in front of the rear bumper, Hopper eyed the dent that stood out like a sore thumb. Just a cosmetic mishap, nothing that would keep the thing from running, but still explained why the owner was so furiously trying to confront the other driver.

“Hey, hey, no need to get overheated over here.” Hopper exclaimed, making his way over to the men in question. A small group of spectators had gathered, all watching curiously as the scene unfolded. Exhaling, the chief motioned to them with a nod. “Powell, get them out of here.”

The familiar itch for a cigarette burrowed itself in the chief’s mind as he tried to block out his partner’s attempt to clear the area. It really was too early for this. Retrieving a notepad and pen from his breast pocket, he flipped to a clean page.

“You’re the chief, right? Goddamn time you show up!” The truck driver, whose face was nearly the same shade of his red truck, strode up to Hopper. “I was trying to explain to him,” he jabbed a finger in Callahan’s direction. “That this wasn’t my fault! I’m not even from this town! I was only passing through when this asshole ran his shit excuse of a car into the back of my truck! I want him arrested, I could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away!”

“Oh fuck you!” The other man growled, who, now that he was closer up, Hopper recognized as one of the construction workers that always ate at Benny’s on Tuesdays from their lunch specials--Howie Davers. “I ain’t have one drink today! And it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t prematurely stop before even getting to the stoplights!”

“There was a squirrel on the road!” The other man shot back. “I wasn’t about to get my tires all splattered with rodent guts!”

“A real man wouldn’t give two shits about a little dirt! It gives character!” Howie snarled, trying to sidestep Callahan. “Maybe you outta be driving something delicate to suit your dainty tastes!” “You son of a--”

“That’s enough!”

Like a knife, Hopper's voice cut through the air. He didn't get pulled away from breakfast with his family to break up some stupid bickering. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he waved the notepad out, ignoring the seething looks the two men were giving each other.

"Alright, so this is how we're gonna do this. Officer Callahan over there is going to take down--what's your name?" He asked, eyeing the truck driver.

"Alan Richards." He replied, folding his arms.

"...Right, Mr. Richards. Officer Callahan is going to get all of your information--driver’s license, car insurance, the works. Meanwhile I’ll get your side of the story, Howie.” Hopper held up his hand before the trucker could interject. “Then we’ll switch and I’ll talk to you, Mr. Richards. Can we handle that like grown men?”

“I don’t see why he gets to tell his side first.” Alan interjected. “It feels like favoritism since he’s from here. In fact, how do I know that all of this will be sorted fairly at all?”

“Well at this point, I’m just going with whoever is pissing me off the least. That’s why you’re last.” The chief muttered, throwing a quick glance at his partner. “Make sure to make a note of where the damage is, Callahan, in great detail. So no one tries to pull anything on us later.” Catching Howie’s attention, he motioned the other man over. “Let’s talk.”

Going into law enforcement seemed like the ideal transition from being in the military to re-entering life as a civilian. There was a point in their lives where he and Joyce had even considered moving out of Hawkins to New York where an old army buddy had promised him a job in the NYPD. It paid considerably better than what he made now--not to mention they made one hell of a good slice of pizza in The Big Apple. But something, or rather, someone caused them to change their minds. Jonathan. Or rather, Joyce’s unexpected, but very welcomed pregnancy. And leaving Hawkins, their home, the place that had always been, just didn’t seem right. So he took the position as Chief of Police in the small town. Not as exciting as the city, but it was what it was. Though he’d not openly admit it, he rather enjoyed it…sometimes.

“I’m telling you, Jim, this wasn’t my fault!” Howie exclaimed, frustration in his tone as he gestured towards the two vehicles. “Look, you saw him! He’s a lying asshole! He isn’t from here! I didn’t run into him, technically, he hit the brakes without warning! What the hell was I supposed to do? Run up onto the sidewalk and possibly hit and kill civilians?! He was in the wrong, not me!”

“Yeah, I’m hearing you, Howie.” Hopper sighed, reaching up to adjust his hat. “But you see how it looks from my end. I mean, you rear-ended the guy, asshole or not. You can’t deny that, there is visible damage.”

Though he refused to let it cloud his judgment, he did feel bad for the guy on some level. Howie didn’t come from much money. The chances the other guy would sue him for damages at costs way too high than for what he could afford was inevitable. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t help out in that department. He was a cop, not a lawyer. There was only so much injustice he could try to fix.

“So you're telling me that no matter what, I’m the one getting screwed?!” Howie snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. “Goddamnit! So on the off chance that he doesn’t sue me--which we both know he will, I’m going to end up with the ticket as well?!”

“Look I’m not saying that,” Hopper replied calmly. “I haven’t even talked to the other guy. I heard you, I did. All I am trying to say is I’m looking at two cars and yours happens to be the one that ran into the other.” Count backwards from ten. That’s what Joyce always told him. Sucking in another breath, he continued. “Howie, I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m neutral. Can you tell me anything else besides him hitting the brakes like that?”

The other man glowered at him with resentment. “Nothing that will change your mind to be on my side.” Howie looked over his shoulder. “Might as well go over there and talk to him. Clearly you are wasting your time with me.”

Hopper inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as he fought back the slew of curse words that tried to slip from his tongue. Once this was all said and done, he’d happily shove whatever paperwork that would come from this in a filing cabinet and hopefully never think about it again. Throwing one final glance in Howie’s direction, he began to walk over to Alan and Callahan.

“Oh good, it’s finally my turn.” Alan said, folding his arms as the chief stopped in front of him. “I’ve given you everything I’ve got. Do you need my birth certificate too? My high school diploma?”

It took everything within him not to punch the man square in the jaw. He was exercising patience--or trying to. Joyce would be proud of him. “Davers is ready when you are. Try not to irritate him anymore than he is.” Hopper addressed Callahan, flipping to a blank page. “Alright, you have my full, undivided attention, Mr. Richards. Go on.”

As Alan began to tell his long, elaborate tale about what had transpired, Hopper found himself zoning out. Though the guy was a dick, based on the evidence he had, it was clear who was at fault. It really didn’t matter at this point, taking down his side of the story was merely for formalities. After that, he’d just fill out a traffic ticket--maybe give Howie some leeway on that, and…

“Hey! Hey!”

Hopper was snapped out of his daze by the sound of Callahan’s shouting. He turned to see both Powell and him racing after Howie who had made a beeline straight towards them. Before he even had a chance to put two and two together, the construction worker’s fist slammed straight into Alan’s nose. The man cried out in pain, clutching his face as blood began to trickle down from both nostrils. As Howie went to strike again, Hopper leaped in the way and slammed him against the car. “Jesus Christ, Howie!” He hissed, his heart racing as he struggled to hold the man back. “What the hell were you thinking?!” Though deep down he knew, and even deeper down thought he deserved it. “Why the hell would you do that?!”

“He was asking for it!” The construction worker panted, trying to free himself from Hopper’s hold. “He screwed me over!”

“Yeah, well, you just screwed yourself over.” Hopper growled, attempting to keep Howie in place while he fished out his handcuffs. “Now you’re making me have to bring you in. Honest to God, I really didn’t want to do this today.” Huffing, he locked the man’s wrists together. “Powell, give Mr. Richards a napkin. He’ll live. Callahan, give Todd a call about towing. Tell him we’ll figure out how the pay will work since it’s extra on a Sunday.”

“Sounds like a plan, Chief,” Powell replied. “See you back at the station.”

“Yeah,” Hopper breathed, leading a very enraged Howie towards his car. “Sounds like a great plan.”

XXX

Paperwork for a car accident, minor one at that, was one thing. Forms needed to be filled out. Filed. Documentation made out with the proper signatures. When it came to criminal activity however, that was a different story. Activity that led to Howie Davers facing assault charges on top of the traffic ticket Hopper was already planning to give him. Work that was going to trap him at the station for much longer than his scheduled hours.

“My mother used to tell me if I made unpleasant faces they’d stick like that.”

Hopper looked up from his desk where he had various forms spread out. Flo stood before him, an eyebrow cocked and a coffee mug in hand. Mumbling a thank you, he took it from her and took a big sip. It wasn’t as fresh as he’d like, but it was better than nothing. Placing it down, he looked at the papers again. “I haven’t had to deal with anything criminal in awhile.” He admitted, clicking and unclicking his pen unceremoniously. “Almost forgot to read him his Miranda Rights. Or say them, I don’t know why they call it ‘read’...” Sighing, Hopper shook his head. “Kinda sad that this is the most excitement I’ve seen as a cop here in awhile.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Flo inquired.

As if her words triggered the thought, his eyes fell to one of the pictures on his desk: March 22, 1977--Will’s sixth birthday. It was a picture of the four of them at the park. Some random stranger had taken it using Jonathan’s very first camera he had gotten for Christmas. The damn thing had cost an arm and a leg but the way his eyes had lit up when he had opened it, it was worth every penny. Will was grinning so wide it almost looked painful. Chocolate ice cream was smeared across his mouth and he vaguely remembered that there was a good chance it had at one point been his before it ended up being his son’s. Joyce’s arms were wrapped around both of their kids, her own smile so bright he could almost feel the warmth emanating from it. He stood beside her, pulling her close to his waist. They were so happy. He was so happy.

“No, quiet’s good.” He finally said, lightly touching the picture frame. “Quiet’s safe.”

The secretary nodded, giving him a small smile. “Well, I’ll leave you be then. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Hopper turned back to his work, trying not to let his mind wander as he filled out the multiple incident reports. Though he knew the man didn’t need it, he had a feeling the asshole had gone to the hospital for his nose. Maybe at some point he’d call and check in, for record purposes. It didn’t help that the asshole was an out of towner. God forbid he’d have to deal with shit from somewhere else.

As time slowly passed, the end to his misery still seemed far from sight. His head hurt, eyes ached from the strain. When a knock sounded from the door, it was not a welcomed sound. Frowning, Hopper continued to focus on what he was doing.

“Flo, I’m in the middle of something. Tell whoever it is to…”

The door creaked open before he could finish. There, standing in the doorway with a small smile was none other than his wife. He straightened up, eyes catching the brown paper bag she had clutched in one hand.

“Hey,” Joyce greeted, closing the door carefully behind her. “Flo called and said you’ve been having a rough day so I thought I’d stop by and bring you some lunch since you didn’t exactly grab anything when you left.”

Hopper frowned. “She called Melvald’s? Christ, she shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to get you in trouble with Donald.” He started to stand up, more agitated than before. “I’ll call down there and say something…”

“Hop, it’s fine.” His wife assured him, holding her hand up. “He knows. It’s my lunch break and since I’m working a double and Jeffrey is there too, he said it’s fine. Besides,” she grinned, holding the bag out. “I dropped by the deli and got you a tuna melt, extra mayonnaise.”

“But you hate tuna. The smell makes you nauseous.” Hopper replied, eyeing her slightly amused. “Especially when it is hot.”

“Well, you’re having a tough day so I can endure it.” She shrugged, handing it to him before sitting down in front of his desk. “Flo said you had to arrest someone today. You haven’t had action like that in quite some time.”

Not that he wouldn’t have told Joyce all about it himself later, but Hopper wasn’t exactly thrilled Flo was being so open about cases to those not on the force. Another thing to talk to her about. He nodded, opening the sandwich bag to retrieve his lunch. He tried to hide his amusement when his wife’s nose crinkled as he unwrapped the foil around it. God did it smell amazing.

“Not as thrilling as it sounds.” He shrugged, taking a bite. “Just some drama over a fender bender. Guy got punched in the face, nose’s broken at worst.” Joyce pushed his lukewarm coffee towards him and he took a sip. “Now I’m stuck doing all of this damn paperwork. It’s going to take me hours. Christ knows how long I’m going to be here for.”

Joyce gave him a sympathetic smile. “I was thinking. We’ve all been working so hard. Maybe we should take a small vacation as a family together soon. Nothing too pricey or too long. Like during the boys’ winter break. Remember when we went camping when Jonathan was little?”

Remember? How could he have forgotten? Jonathan was four and Joyce, who was heavily pregnant at the time, had insisted that they go on a trip before the baby came. She was worried how he’d take not being the only child anymore. That vacation was her idea of showing him how much they loved him. And it was great. Well, at least his wife and son had a blast. Hopper, on the other hand, was absolutely terrified Joyce would suddenly go into labor and he’d be forced to deliver their baby in the middle of the woods. Not to mention he almost threw out his back several times for having to constantly give his son piggy-backs everywhere.

“That trip was cutting it very close.” He snorted, setting his sandwich down. “Will was born, what, a week or so later?”

Joyce grinned. “All of the walking helped with that I guess. It was so much fun. God, remember all of those acorns Jonathan kept giving you? Your pockets were stuffed!”

“Yeah, I had to keep emptying them when he wasn’t looking.” Hopper chuckled, shaking his head. “Daddy, daddy! Look! I found another one! He wanted to bring them home to plant them.”

“So he could have his own forest.” Joyce reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Yeah,” he smiled, squeezing back. “So he could have his own forest.”

They fell silent for a minute. It was a nice idea going on a vacation. They all deserved it. Hell, Will hadn’t really ever been on one. Not to mention he didn’t have to worry about Joyce being pregnant or carrying around his sons at their ages. It would definitely be a topic of discussion on the table.

“We should think about it,” Hopper agreed. “It’s not a bad idea.” He glanced at the clock, noting how much time had passed. “Listen, with all of this I am working on plus whatever else I’m stuck with, I’m probably not gonna be home until real late. I know the same goes for you. Jonathan has school tomorrow so he’ll be home way before us. I’m gonna call Karen and have her tell Will just to ride his bike home and his brother will be there waiting. It shouldn’t be a problem, he does it all of the time.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call? I don’t mind,” Joyce offered.

He shook his head. “No, you have to head back to work and my phone is right here. I’ll do it.” Hopper gave a smile before leaning forward to kiss her. “Thanks for the sandwich, we should do it again sometime.”

“Mhm,” his wife agreed. “Next time it’s on you.” Joyce straightened up, shoving a hand in her pocket as she fished around for her car keys. “Think about what I said about going on vacation, maybe that will help with this.” She motioned at the mess on his desk. “I better go before Donald gets annoyed.”

Hopper watched as she made her way over to the door. “Hey.” He called out, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I love you.”

He didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling. “I love you too.”

The door closed and Hopper found himself staring at it. Part of him wanted her to come back. To stay and talk until the sun set and the moon was bright in the night sky. To forget both of their jobs and just reminisce. Old memories. New memories. He sighed and reached for the phone, glad that Will had known Mike long enough so that he had the number memorized.

“Hello?”

Karen’s voice sounded surprised when she picked up. It was quiet on her end so he could only assume that the boys must’ve been on another floor. Compared to Joyce and him, the Wheelers made a lot more money. Had a much fancier house. Fancier things. Not that materialism really mattered much to him.

“Hi, Karen, it’s Jim Hopper.” He responded, leaning back in his chair. “Listen, would you mind telling Will he can just ride his bike home tonight? I have to work later than I thought so I can’t come and get him. Jonathan’ll be there so he won’t be alone.”

“Of course, I’ll go down there and let him know.” Her voice chirped from the receiver. “The boys are having a lot of fun. I haven’t seen them all day.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Hopper replied, glancing over at the time. “Thanks, and, oh…uh, tell Ted hello.” As if Joyce would know he didn’t.

Hearing the click from the Wheelers’ line, Hopper put his phone back down. With Will taken care of, there wasn’t much else that could distract him from his work. He frowned, straightening the papers before lifting up his pen. He couldn’t wait for this whole day to be over with.

XXX

The sun had set long ago when Hopper finally filed away the last of his work. Maybe it was just because of everything that happened, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d sat doing so much desk duty. What he would’ve given to sit in his car for hours waiting for speeders instead. Pulling on his jacket, he grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out of the station.

Fog hung thick across the road as he drove through the empty neighborhoods. With the exception of a few houses with their lights on, everything was pitch black. Hopper was exhausted mentally--which, for some reason, made him feel the same physically. He gripped the wheel, trying to keep his eyes open as he navigated through the street and into the driveway.

Hopper wasn’t surprised when he noticed the lights were off inside. The kids had school in the morning and Joyce tended to fall asleep early if he wasn’t around to keep her company. Quietly, he stepped through the front door and knocked his shoes off. Too tired to even eat, he made his way to the bedroom. Even in the darkness, he could make out his wife’s small form curled up under the covers. He exhaled and began to remove his clothes, abandoning them on the floor.

The moment he slid under the covers, as if instinctually, Joyce shifted closer to him. She was still asleep, he knew this by the sound of her breathing. Yet still, she was against him. He liked it. It was comforting for her. For him. His arm wound around her and he drew her in. Closing his eyes, Hopper gave into the tendrils of sleep that pulled him down into the depths of unconsciousness.

“Jim!”

At first, Hopper found himself still trapped in the lull of sleep. He didn’t hear Joyce call out to him in such desperation. Hear her use his first name, something that felt so foreign to him whenever she did. It wasn’t until she tried again, this time louder than the first that he snapped back to reality. Called out to him something that made his blood run cold.

“Jim, where is Will?!”

#Stranger Things #Jopper #Jim Hopper #Joyce Hopper #Joyce x Hopper #Everything You Hold Dear #Jopper fanfic

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glemmerdash-piecesof8 · 8 days

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Roo woke up early the next morning and traced her fingers over Luke’s collapsed form. Except for the day when she had told them about the experiment he had been so exhausted and busy they had barely had any time for each other. She realised she was being self-indulgent though, as he needed sleep more than he needed to please her. So she just gave him a kiss gently on the lips, and she knew he really was deeply asleep because he didn’t even smile.

She went and sat in the bathroom and stared into her eyes. She looked at all the problems on her face, her eyebrows not matching, the way her teeth sloped a little, all the freckles, and, and, and. You are supposed to be a woman now she told herself and know that it shouldn’t matter what you look like. She imagined sitting and getting her make-up done so she could look presentable and it made her judder. No, she wouldn’t do that. She would just have to cultivate some nonattachment to her image.

Should she try make a statement about the objectification of women? She had had their hair on her legs removed by laser when she was younger so she couldn’t make a statement there-Roo started to smile, realising she could tattoo on hair for an episode if they ever ran out of ideas.

She was smiling now as she realised the experiment really could be mainly a game of trying to talk about important things lightly. She went to the kitchen to make some coffee and found herself writing the advert on the back of an envelope.

Bisexual men able to commit for at least the medium term wanted for real-life experiment. Couples welcome.

She would leave that where Robert would see it. Luke would give an opinion if he got up in time. She remembered to look at the clock and took a deep breath. She would have to start rushing now if she wanted to get the less full bus.

Something like telepathy

A few days later and in Roo’s old part of the city, Shane was dragging equipment into his flat. For some reason, his flat was the only place the band could practice, so everything was stored there even though all he needed was a mike and a tambourine for when he felt lyrical.

He was lucky to have inherited a proper house from his aunt, which he let out and had saved some of that money for the deposit on this. The ceilings were scandalously high and the rooms had good proportions. But there was no guest room or room for a kid and while that had not been on his radar when he bought it he was thinking that was a pity now.

It had been two months of straight touring and he hadn’t got a cough or anything. It must be all those supplements I am taking his thought and being OCD about what I eat. Not getting shit faced also seem to help and it made the girls easier to remember.

He felt a little hollow about that as he locked the door behind him and went to find a couch to collapse on. It was great making music for a living, but things were not nearly as wild as everyone thought. Twice this tour when he had actually wound up at a girl’s house, it had led to nothing except tears and stories of how their lives were so empty. It had been a bit surreal stroking their heads and listening to broken English- stories which he knew were true everywhere. It was strange that he felt closer to the two girls that had cried then any of the others.

It was starting to feel even more hollow now than it used to. It was still interesting, not being sure, not knowing, being wanted, but he didn’t have someone who could come home from work and complain about her boss.

He suddenly saw a flash of strawberry blonde hair in the corner of his mind. What was her name? He had met her at the gym when the band was on hiatus because Benny the drummer had discovered TM and now couldn’t bring himself to make cacophony for a living anymore. Mark joined the band then and their sound had become much more interesting.

Oh, what was her name? She was a primary school teacher in the other borough. He remembered which school. He hoped she still worked there. He remembered breaking things off because she had insisted that they had an open relationship when she realised he was a musician. Silly boy. She was right that would have been the sensible thing to do but he didn’t want her lips on anyone else.

Roo. That was it. He was ready to try and open relationship now but a good few years had passed so she might be married already or popping out kids of her own.

He would get some sleep and go visit her on monday. Hopefully it wasn’t in school holidays otherwise he had no idea how to find her because her flat mates had always been awful.

He could write a song about the crying girls but he knew he could actually give his heart to Roo.

Robert was standing behind camera as usual, listening to the anchor say a lot of words after each other which didn’t really say anything about the reality of what she was saying. He liked this anchor, she would very dutifully get stony faced whenever anybody had died, or there was an accident or hurricane, or anything to do with the wars.

He had asked her about it. Sasha was the name. She had said that she had once watched a girl smile through a report on an Afghan hospital being bombed, and it had made her so sick she had actually thrown up. So now she tried to have a stony face, but, she had told Robert, saying so little about any real suffering was wearing her down.

He concentrated again on the camera and it was now time for the weather. Another show nearly done and dusted. He was going to get drunk tonight with Sasha. They would drink overpriced cocktails that were admittedly made with a fair measure of skill and he would tell her about the experiment.

Why? Why would he tell her about the experiment. He had been doing some research on the person they were supposed to meet next week and for the squatting legally options and it seemed as though he was working for some sort of corporation. That had made Robert sceptical. If it was a housing association it would be all right, but a corporation sounded like some kind of indentured slavery deal was on the cards.

Sasha would know. “Cut thanks everybody.Sash? Cocktails?” She did that adorable thing where she blinked really fast and made you wonder if her eyelashes were trying to shake off the mascara on them.

“Sure hun, let me just tell Tom. He can join us later” Robert nodded. Tom was the sensible dashing boyfriend who was the managing director of a smoothie company. Sash went off to shower and reapply make up and Robert found himself alone in the corridor with the boss.

She looked a little confused and then said “great show – see you on Monday” and clicked off. It made him realise her job was probably even more boring than his. He would get a cup of coffee and see if he had any cream left in the staff fridge. It was strange how once you’d had coffee with cream, it made you like a cat and want only the best afterwards. He had gotten management to start using organic milk but he still bought his own cream for some energy and also needed to feel pampered.

He shook his head. His life had become really so narrow. But he just couldn’t do war journalism any more. The nightmares were still impossible to deal with but when you woke up from a nightmare into a nightmare and started to want to eat glass or poison just so you could reach the end of suffering.

Sash came out looking radiant, and Robert just stood there wondering for the first time if he actually wanted to be able to be turned on by her. It was a strange but yes she was talking-

“can I be a cat with you to Robert?”

“Sure, this is the best coffee to have it with”

“Whatever you say” she said laughing, sipping slowly, and licking her bare lips ,still stained from earlier.

And Robert just started talking. He talked about the nightmares and the war zones and how he felt like a part of the establishment. And when they had finished their coffee they had got a cab and she had started talking about how she felt trapped in a bubble that could pop at any time but was too afraid to leave.

At the cocktail bar, they hid upstairs in the corner away from the speakers and Robert started telling her about the experiment and how they needed a base. She had looked distressed for a while and then, “are you serious about this Robert?”

“Yes”

“you know you will need to set up an international distribution company”

“yes”

“and how do you want me to help? I’m quite happy with just Tom.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. No Roo wants to do it. I’m just wondering if you can think of very cheap locations we can use so we can keep our costs down.”

“You need a legal squat?”

“Yes, but the only person I found works for a corporation so I’m sceptical.”

‘’Thank you for trusting me with this Robert but I just don’t know how to help as yet, unless, yes – we could just complain about the boss for the rest of the evening and I will get back to you on Monday at work? Tom is coming now and he will be over helpful if we keep talking about. I don’t really think it’s a case of needing to talk to suppliers at this stage.”

Robert laughed “all right. Any feedback you have will be great though.”

And when Tom did arrive they were both dancing to deep house, even though it was still before midnight.

Luke hated calls like this one. They arrived at the same time as the police and found the door locked as reported. The neighbour who had rung peered at them through the chain on the door. “Haven’t seen her for at least two weeks and her cat has kept coming around for food. I know she is not away because she would have asked me to feed Millie, but no one’s got keys to her flat.”

The police nodded and Luke and George stood carrying all their life-saving equipment feeling foolish when they both knew it was more appropriate to feel sad. Old people die very often if you’re a paramedic, and often they are alone, without even a pet, just living out each day of their retirement.

The policeman had fetched a crowbar and Hank was now trying to pry the door open. George looked on as the door eventually popped open and just whispered to Luke “can you just do it without me?”

Luke turned around and looked at him intently. “Did you know her?”

“No it’s just the stiffs, I don’t mind the blood or bones or anything, but I just can’t handle another stiff today. You know we could both just wait here until the police come out and we will just avoid walking through a dead person’s things.”

“One of us has to still declare her dead though George.”

“Right, right that’s true.”

“Have you been seeing your supervisor?”

“Yes, yes, but he just keeps saying its part of the job. I don’t think I can afford to retrain.”

“Your a good paramedic mate. When did you last have a holiday?”

“It will be...two years ago now. I have just worked through my leave and taken off a few days to spend with the kids.”

“Oi, you two, are you coming in?” Hank bellowed.

“I’ll do it George, but we are finishing this conversation today.”

George just nodded and put down the defibrillator. Hank led Luke to where the other police officer was waiting, in the old lady’s sitting room. She looked like she was asleep, but Luke could smell that strange smell of a slowly decomposing body.

He took her pulse, her skin waxy and then checked her eyes. Yes she really was dead. “You want me to do the paperwork Hank? Maybe the neighbour knows about the undertaker.”

Hank nodded and Luke started opening his folder to find the right form. He looked around the room and realised it was really quite immaculate, except for dust that had settled over the last two weeks. He wondered if her death would make it to the paper- probably not. They didn’t seem to be any showy things from her past to see. No pictures of children either.

He thought of George waiting outside, overwhelmed by the idea of writing down things about someone now referred to as a deceased. He realised whatever happened with the experiment, he would still do this job, because as exhausting as it was, it made him feel truly useful.

It was Friday night, and unlike Luke and others that worked the weekend, that meant that Roo could really unwind in preparation of the meeting. She had started by putting the heating on when she got home and she had just been sitting in the lounge since then, lapping up the lack of demands.

She had got up twice to make some herbal tea, nettle and rosehip respectively, and she felt ready to do some of that self-care the American people always went on about. First, food. Robert had texted that he didn’t need dinner and Luke liked to go to the chippy on Friday.

So, she could get Chinese! All right, calm down, just ring them up and remind them that you want chopsticks. She sat with the menu and ordered duck, pork, vegetables, soup, beef, and some chow mein. Then they asked about desert and she thought she might as well. It would be good to have some snacks in the fridge for everyone.

40 minutes. Just time for a bath. She started running the water and went to find some candles and the timer from the kitchen to get her out of the bath in time for food. There you go. Time to unpeel, earrings, make-up, jumper, shirt, vest, bra, shoes, skirt, stockings, knickers. In the bath now. Going under, shampoo, lather, breathe out. Got the detachable showerhead to get rid of the suds.Oh, it’s so good to do nothing for a while. Nipples erect,oh body, I never have any time for you. Toes stretching, water sloshing BUZZZZZZZZZZ. Deep sigh. Should have run the bath before calling but it’s all right to climb out, being drip dripping. Clean towel, so glad am up to speed with the laundry. Tussle hair gently, too relaxed to dry it. Dressing gown,slippers. Put a light on and some Billie. While I wait I can clean the bath, very slowly.Doorbell “Miss Roo Enders?” Tip ready. Big smile. Big smile back. They remembered the chopsticks.

Shane woke up on Saturday morning to water being poured on his face. It was a bit annoying but it probably meant they had a show booked. Eyes open. Christ it was Steve, his older brother. He should have never told him that water in the face actually did wake up without tipping him onto the floor.

“We’ve got to get to go to the hospital. I let you sleep but gran really is touch and go.”

“Gran Nelly?”

“Yeah. Something about her liver.”

“Her liver?”

“Yeah, something important about her liver.”

“Hepatitis?”

“No, don’t think so. Cancer or something.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“Didn’t think was right to pay more than 5p for a text.”

“Emailed?”

“You only check every few days and Ma said we don’t want you associating bad news with touring.”

“But I can associate finishing a tour with bad news? ”

“Had to be some time innit.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Visiting hours are in exactly 40 minutes from now so we better go catch that bus.”

“I haven’t eaten.”

“I have snacks.”

“I need a shower.”

“Why do you think I poured water on you? Hurry up.”

“Alright, but can you go get me a proper coffee from round the corner so long?”

“Have already. What’s been in my other hand this whole time getting cold.”

“Right.”

“But that’s for me now. You shower and will get you another, bringing you to consciousness as a right palaver.”

“Just down that coffee mate. I want a shitty English croissant.”

“Good to know you’re awake princess.”

And the rest of the weekend was consumed by family, but Shane’s mind did wander and every time he said to himself – must remember to see Roo.

Robert’s weekend had been strange so far. After his night with Sasha and her man, he had gobbled Chinese food from the fridge and fallen asleep on the sofa.

Roo had shown him the advert she had written which he had kept ignoring for some reason. He realised he had been completely preoccupied and was time to let things percolate a little. So he challenged Roo to cards and pizza and wine. It was cold so they decide to make a fire to let things flicker a little and then Robert found some Italian music to play and they started to play cards, not once mentioning how glad both of them were they had gotten rid of the TV.

The TV had been impossible. Roo had lasted a month of that and then said she would have to move out of the TV stayed. They had both been very confused because all they used the TV for was the news channels, so they could tell what was happening in the world by piecing together something like the truth from analysis of all the different news channels.

Roo had told them it made more sense to read one good opinion piece a day then two or three hours of horror stories or stories about the local dog show which always seemed to creep in. They had insisted that if you wanted the latest news you need a television and then Luke had remembered September 11, 2001.

Luke has said how he had one watched the news for hours that day and learned pretty much nothing except to be in shock and be angry and appalled, unlike normal war reporting. Roo agreed, she said she had also been put into a daze by that reporting. It wasn’t Hiroshima but it was treated with the same awe as if it had been, and Roo said it made her really wonder about news as a medium on TV.

That had really got under Robert skin because he was already incredibly unhappy being a cameraman for the accepted news channel. But it had got him started on bread and circuses and the situationists and that had led to the experiment eventually.

And now instead of watching fly speckled orphans on TV in numb horror, they were playing cards and living. Robert still streamed a fair amount of news on his laptop in the mornings, but it was more out of habit than anything else.

They worked their way through two bottles of wine and were starting the third when Luke came in. Roo helped him get out of his jacket and boots and then he just clung to her. Tears starting to fall into her hair. “What happened love?”

“I was in an accident. My supervisor has suspended me for a week because he says that’s the only way I’ll actually rest. I don’t know what I have been doing to myself. It’s not as though we need the money but I keep wanting to save the Trust money by making it possible to not hire agency staff. Oh Roo.”

“There’s food for you, I can just warm it up. Do you want some wine?”

Roo and Luke were whispering to each other and Robert felt for the first time like a voyeur and made him blush so he started staring at his shoes.

“I would like some pizza in bed with you. I never get to actually sleep with you at the same time it feels like. Roo!” Luke nearly whimpered.

“Why don’t you have a bath?” Roo said.

“I’m hungry though.”

“Sit by the fire wait two minutes and take over my hand and wine glass. We can eat tiramisu with Robert and then I’ll read to you in the bath.”

“All right. The fire is nice.”

“I love you Mr Suspended, rest now.”

And so he collapsed onto the sofa before hauling himself up, patting Robert’s shoulder and saying, “so whose turn is it?”

Luke woke up to an empty bed the next morning. It sounded like Roo had her cleaning music on, so he better stay out of the way for a while. He looked at the clock and realised he had slept 11 hours without even waking up to piss. Christ, he really did need to be suspended.

The muffled music stopped and Roo opened the door quietly and then beamed at him. “You’re awake! You have to give me your supervisor’s number so I can tell him you have slept for 11 hours and 13 minutes.”

“I’ve been awake longer than three minutes.”

“I know, I just made up the 13 minute part.”

“You really want to phone him?”

“Yes I have to thank him for being a good manager. They are rare.”

“You really are my woman now aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. That’s why the experiment is possible – I know it will make our lives more interesting.”

“It will be nice to work less shifts”

“and I want to adopt some children from Syria so I need some kind of income.”

“You mean you’ll stop teaching?”

“I don’t think they’ll let me teach to be honest. I want to be researching content the whole time and looking after the kids. You don’t mind do you? You said before you thought it was a good idea.”

“Sure, we just need a good place to stay.”

“Robert is working on that. I also remember how to squat but I don’t think a normal squat is a good idea because we can get evicted and that would stress the kids out.”

“I forgot you were squatter-when you ran away from home right?”

“Yes, I don’t think it was ideal but it worked until I could actually study. I can’t believe I just enrolled in a school for my A-levels by myself. I made up a story about my parents being disabled. I forgot about that.”

“You have been cleaning?”

“Yes, just a quick blitz. You want some coffee? I have some muffins in the oven that should be nearly ready. I’ve had enough of takeaways for a while.”

“Let me just go to the loo and have a shave, and then I would love some coffee and a muffin.”

“Alright.” She kissed him quickly on the lips and then bounded off. Luke found his dressing gown and realised he was still bemused by her.

That evening they had a proper roast dinner. All three of them sat around the table and talked about work and how they couldn’t wait for summer. They kept talking on automatic until Roo burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny love?”

“We are just doing chitchat as if the experiment just isn’t important enough to talk about.”

Luke grinned. “We are aren’t we.”

Robert shook his head. “There’s nothing to report yet.”

“So we can just carry on being normal people for a while.” Luke said and then added, “even though we will always actually be normal people.”

Roo nodded and then kissed Luke’s knuckles which lay on the table next to the carrots.

“Well you really do your impromptu kissing on TV?” Robert asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Roo replied a little put out.

“It’s so cute” Luke said.

“Hmph.” Roo was getting very self-conscious.

Robert smiled and said “Let’s return to some harmless chitchat mates.”

And Roo looked up and realised she really would have to get filmed being wound up and then looked at Robert and he just smiled and nodded “there’s nothing wrong with being cute love.”

So Roo decided perhaps she should have some brussel sprouts after all.

Shane woke up jittery early on Monday morning. He lay there wondering what his body was nervous about and then he remembered-Roo! Today was the day. He would find her and find out what was happening with her. Then he suddenly remembered kissing her in the park one-day, when he was hot from the sun and they had both been sweating lightly –oh right – he remembered being told off for saying women sweated by a chiselled amazon at the gym. “Darling! Women perspire. Only men, animals and children sweat” she’d said.

Well Roo had been lightly perspiring and it felt good to kiss her and feel a different sort of mingling. He knew he would have to jerk off before he saw her just so he would at least trick himself into thinking he was relaxed. But he would need to be in the shower for that. He only knew how to touch himself in bed when he wasn’t sober and that wasn’t really an option today. Quite the opposite in fact, he needed to do some serious detoxing and get back in the gym before he started to lose all his definition.

But a proper coffee wouldn’t hurt. Pity they are only open at 8:30 and it was seven now. Shane grinned to himself- no way was he going to challenge himself to shower for an hour. He would get all wrinkly. What the hell would he do until it was time to see Roo? He needed a plan – he was too jittery to try sleep again. He couldn’t visit his gran until the afternoon so that was out. He could call his pupils but he couldn’t do that till nine. He could do some laundry and go to the gym, have a proper breakfast somewhere and then read the paper to see if anything interesting had happened in six weeks. Oh right – there were email to read and reply, so the best time to quote unquote pleasure himself was to have a second shower after 12 some time. Well he could handle that as a day, just had to keep distracted until it was time.

Shane was blaring Cream really loud when he eventually had his second shower after being extremely sensible and practical the whole day. He had even squeezed in a trip to the bank in the rain to make his statements paperless, even though he actually liked having to read what he wasted his money on each month.

Now he stood brushing his teeth again and trying to make himself take the hairdryer, which belong to a rather difficult ex, out of the drawer and actually use it. He hated hair drying. It felt so fad-y. Like something humanity would eventually grow out of. But it was cold outside and he wanted to use a hat he thought he looked rather fetching in and didn’t want the material to warp just because he was convinced hairdryers were not appropriate technology.

He listened to the zerrrrrr, of the hairdryer for a while but was frowning the whole time he used it. Eventually his hair was dry enough to not be wet any more and he start getting dressed, amusing himself by how much thought he was putting into it. He really must have enjoyed being with Roo, and he realised it had been true love but he was too possessive to have noticed it.

Now he considered wearing a tie but he realised that was too far, he didn’t want to look like an undertaker did he? So he ended up wearing the same as usual, with the big flapping coat to make whatever he was actually wearing pretty meaningless.

The record finished and Shane realised he really was feeling like a teenager so he found something more adult to play while he waited for his hair to dry. He texted his brother to say he’d visit Gran later and then he just half sat, half lay, on the futon and let the music muffle his thoughts.

He imagined falling asleep and missing her and doing the same thing all over again tomorrow, so he hauled himself up, found all the things he needed including headphones – which the guys in the band were always nicking – turned the music off and after bundling up left to go have another coffee.

90 minutes later he stood outside of Roo’s school trying to press the buzzer while holding another two, all right but not quite the best, coffees. There were parents clumping around and one of them eventually pressed the buzzer for him. Then he had to negotiate the door and remember how to get to Roo’s classroom, suddenly realising she might not be Miss R. Enders anymore and at the same time dodging very small people and their parents.

There it was’ Miss R. Enders’. Well that’s a good start and then there she was, opening the door and then going down on her haunches to say goodbye to one of the little people. She looked ace, the skirt she was wearing folded around her just so, completely natural and more pretty then she had dressed with him.

That wasn’t a good sign. That meant there was probably a man – oh well. She’s smiling now, she’s seen me – try not to look dazed.

She gave the little person a hug and then stood up smiling such a big smile Shane nearly forgot he was transporting coffee. “Shane! What a lovely surprise! Come in. Don’t know how you got through security but it’s good to see you.” She hugged him under his scarecrow arms and kissed him on each cheek “you’ll have to sit on a tiny chair but I don’t want to cause a scandal in the staff room.”

She definitely had a man. First words out, come on man.

“You look really well, I brought you all right coffee in case you haven’t become one of those people that doesn’t drink coffee after 12 and still drinks milk and.......... I just really wanted to see you after finishing this last tour.”

Roo smiled softly and took the coffee brushing against him as he simultaneously sat down on a tiny chair. He looked up and found himself looking into the eyes of a small boy in the Spiderman costume who asked him “what do you do for a job?” Shane felt a bit confused but Roo just put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and said “music, he does music for a job”. The boy nodded and then noticed another grown-up and then darted off saying “bye Miss Enders, see you tomorrow!”

The door closed behind them and suddenly it was quiet and Shane realised he hadn’t reckoned on the tiny chair making him look ridiculous.

“Do you want to take your coat off Shane?” Roo said softly. “I have to put things away but I’m nearly done.” He stood up and she was behind him helping with his coat, something no other girl could do without annoying him. He turned and as she turned round and put in the coat on the hook he gathered her in his arms and kissed her ever so gently on the mouth. She kissed back tenderly and then put a hand over his lips.

“I’m spoken for at the moment”

“who is he?”

“A paramedic is just been suspended because he doesn’t know how to say no to shifts.”

“Does he have a record collection?”

“Yes -we listen to jazz.” Shane pulled away.

“And you have an open relationship with him?”

“He’s bisexual, so yes, though neither of us have done anything but,”

“but what? I eventually understood about open relationship with you, but I’m too late.”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly what?”

“Well there’s an experiment that we are going to do, but I was going to only have bisexual men taking part but if you would and you could- I have missed you.”

And so she told him of the experiment and that night he ate with her, Luke, and Robert while he tried to add up if he really could share her and their eyes kept meeting across the table and when he left Luke whispered in his ear, “think about it mate, I know I can share her with you.”

So Shane started to think and that’s all he did for two weeks, while just doing life on autopilot.

Househunting

Robert found himself taking his lunchbreak alone, sitting in the canteen and eating leftovers cold. He knew he should heat them up but eating cold meals making feel like he was living in the real world again not just safe and comfortable London. Not that it really was safe. There was still a fair amount of knife crime and with the police being armed now, who knew what the norm would be in 10 years. As he chewed a gravy soaked carrot ,he wondered if he was a little bit of the cathar. He must be something to always make things more difficult than they need to be. A stoic, that’s it. Less religious, though probably tending to pectoral muscles more than I ever will.

Sasha whirled passed and then spun around “Robert! There you are” she beamed.

“Sash darling, how was your weekend and day off?” He said raising himself and giving her a hug.

“It was all right. I just have to admit that I found nothing useful except property guardians. It seems the real squatters have been priced out predominantly.”

“Don’t worry – I still have a contact we’re supposed to meet on Saturday. He’s been away. I should trust him because he comes through Ian but I do run myself into knots.”

“You silly thing.” She smiled fondly at him.

“How did you get out of the studio?”

“I have breaks too you know. I just have to look busier then you and sit in hair and make up for hours each day.”

“Right, that’s where you appear from. I never would have thought.” Robert stopped – was he flirting with her? How incredibly odd. How incredibly bizarre. She kept talking and he dutifully replied all the time was wondering – was I really about to say not that you need make up love?

The next Saturday dawned dull and grey, and unexceptional for a February day. Robert had woken and had been pacing up and down the flat since eight. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about meeting Curtis, but maybe the anticipation from having waited for a few weeks had built up to unhealthy levels.

Roo got out of bed at about nine and found Robert looking lost in the corridor. Luke had finished with work at a reasonable hour for a change but his body has started craving more rest after the forced hibernation of a few days off. Roo put her hand on Robert’s shoulder and said “pancakes, help me make some pancakes”. And he nodded, and eventually sat down and drank coffee with Roo while they let the batter rest for a while.

Luke kept smelling something delicious and eventually appeared in the kitchen looking like a shipwrecked sailor who had found a bottle of rum. Roo and Robert made space for him and they all sat cramped in the kitchen eating a whole stack of pancakes.

By the time they had tidied up and got ready it was pretty much time to wonder to West London. It was very strange to be meeting Curtis on West London but there was an ethical restaurant he had suggest for lunch and as they never really bothered to go that far just for food it seemed worth agreeing to.

They stood in the drizzle waiting for a bus and all filed in and took some seats near the back on the upper deck. They had to change transport a few more times but after coming out of the tube station, they started wandering around looking for the restaurant.

They all took a turn the cash machine as they realised it was probably going to be a proper restaurant by the look of the buildings surrounding them. Roo was waiting for the others when she realised she wasn’t wearing her warm scarf.

They followed Robert round a corner and then another corner and there it was – a Georgian building was a lots of what must be double glazing. Robert got his phone out again as they walked up to the doors and there was a rush of warm fragrant air. As they open the door Luke thought “people around here must really like their coffee.”

“Reservation sir?”

“We didn’t make a reservation but we are here to meet Curtis.”

“This way, you want to leave your coat with us Madam?”

Roo faltered. “Um, alright.” Unwrapping herself self-consciously and finding her wallet and phone before handing it over. She walked to catch up with the others and was a little shocked to see them sitting with a very refined looking gentleman all in black. About 45 but potentially timeless.

“Hi, you must be Curtis, I am Roo.”

“Hello darling, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He said in a soft French accent. Curiouser and curiouser Roo thought.

“Before we talk business let’s order – the salmon as its wild but I’m rather fond of the lamb – are any of you vegetarian or vegan?”

“No we are all typically English.”

“It is lunch so we can skip starters – the asparagus is phenomenal but it’s not the right season for that yet.”

Up close Curtis’s skin was an exceptionally good condition. Roo found herself nervously sipping water. She had never gotten used to people with money and style. She tried to concentrate on the menu but it was like reading a poem after drinking too much wine. The lamb then, she scanned for the word lamb and when she found its description, which actually made sense, albeit unnecessarily complicated sense. There seemed to be a frustrated artist behind the menu. How bizarre, she thought and then let herself blink at the price. Oh well we’ve come all this way.

Robert was asking about the trout and Luke had his concentrating face on. Of all of them Luke actually had the most refined palate but with the ability to eat ordinary food as well. Roo was interested to see what he would order.

Robert was making small talk about the weather and property prices so Roo made herself look like she was concentrating.

Luke continued reading but reached out and took the hand that was fiddling with the menu and she suddenly realised everything was all right, it was just food after all. They ordered from a Viennese waiter which was unexpected, Robert always asked where people are from, and then Robert started talking about their requirements.

“We are looking for a place with at least 10 bedrooms and plenty of studio space. It needs to be either very quirky or very spartan. A place for a garden would be ideal as we will need to encourage that kind of thing and we need a lease for at least five years.”

“I see.” Curtis paused and took a contemplative sip of water. “And may I enquire as to the nature of the experiment you mentioned on the phone.”

Luke looked at Curtis with a piercing gaze and said simply “we are aiming to create counterculture propaganda for mainstream consumption.”

“It’s a spectacle.” Roo said softly.

Curtis nodded and looked rather pleased, like a professional poker player who has just realised he has an opponent.

“I suppose you want to know more about me. How can a man who makes his money buying art be the most useful man for squatters to talk too apart from his knowledge of Trocchi?”

They all nodded.

“I represent the interests of some rather well endowed reactionary people. Those who cannot give up the comforts of wealth but who feel incredibly burdened by it. I act as a bridge between the world of artists and craft persons who seek to do interesting work in the country with care.”

“So what is the purpose of your corporation?”

“That exists for my art business. I often buy and support independent artists independent of this work, but you would sign a contract directly with one of several trusts.”

They were all silent.

Curtis had a slow cats smile. “There is a building which you may know of called the In and Out near Savile Row.”

Robert and Roo shook their heads but Luke started nodding and smiling. “Right next to the park” Luke said.

“Exactly right my friend. Next to the park.”

“I have been looking for the right caretakers for that building for close to 8 years and in between we have been making it more or less habitable. Still simple but habitable. It has Aga for example which is ready to use now. “

“That’s just incredible, I’m sure that will be big enough for us.”

“Indeed.”

Curtis paused as a flurry of waiters appeared with their food.

They all stared at their plates for a moment, amazed at the detail before them, with Curtis smiling at the concentration.

“Let us eat.” Curtis said, “we can discuss things further over the dessert.”

They all nodded and Luke gave Roo the same look he did when he was home from a long day at work and she had his food ready. They all tucked in gently, trying the sauces and the reductions with Roo looking to Curtis to see how best to eat the lamb. Curtis smiled and said “I suggest eating it instinctively. It is a dance between ingredients to be sure, but each mouthful of this dish will always work. I enjoy playing with my food but not being directed by it.”

Roo looked thoughtful and then smiled. “Thank you” she said.

“Not at all” he replied, “your earnestness is quietly refreshing.”

Roo smiled again and looked at Luke who was waving his cutlery over his food deciding where to start.

“It seems we are eating the chef’s favourite dish then” she said when she noticed Robert was also just staring at his plate.

Curtis laughed a deep throaty chuckle. “You would be right to guess that my dear.” He said and winked. The others didn’t even hear them, being under Mesmer’s spell.

Robert eventually started to eat his salmon and was delighted to find the time had seemed to stop for a while. All his thoughts were quietened and he began to feel as though having a meal was not such a bad way to begin a relationship with the mysterious Curtis after all.

Luke was in heaven. It reminded him of eating with his artist aunt who would cook once a week when he was growing up, but then every bite was gorgeous. He had decided to eat some humble chicken to see how it was treated and he was so delighted by his first five bites he ate the rest of the meal as an alchemist, working out how he might cook this at home.

Meanwhile Roo and Curtis were eating leisurely but talking in the meanwhile. Curtis asked gentle questions about her past and was interested when she confirmed that she was a primary school teacher. She asked about art, and asked for tips on how to negotiate the art world with integrity, to which he replied- “the Chinese daoists are right in that they seek spontaneity. With art, I like to swim like a fish, sometimes leaping over rapids or treading water to stay in the same place. It is like life, always flowing and sometimes crumbling resistance and other times destroying it. You must know the beautiful instinct of the young – it is that same or wonder which I seek and one finds that everywhere if ones eyes are not clouded by paradigms and disconnection.”

Roo nodded “so it’s like the sound of many voices singing together?”

Curtis smiled “sometimes my dear but other times it is the sound of the rubbish truck after a long night.”

Roo giggled and then kept giggling realising she hadn’t giggled for a long time.

Luke looked up with the perplexed grin having just put his knife and fork together. “Sorry I missed out but what were you talking about?”

“Negotiating the art world my friend. My sources say your paramedic so you must know of the flow which I speak of.”

“Like the Taoists?”

“Yes indeed. They have the most close to indigenous religion there is that I know of and for them the natural world is worth protecting.”

“It is like the flow of blood. Sometimes we reach a scene and we know of someone doesn’t get a blood transfusion fast its lights out for them. Modern medicine does miracles but sometimes I wish we could just let someone die peacefully, because after working in war zones I know that’s the one thing I would wish for.”

“Indeed, that is the greatest blessing we can have, to rest in peace. Peace is a dynamic thing, she is also always there if we can find her.”

Luke fiddled with his glass. “Always? I’m not so sure about that, that takes a high level of nonattachment to the planet and people.”

“Yes, indeed. But I speak of being able to rest with demons and enemies, to rest with your humanity. Things happen so fast these days admittedly things look dire. My fellow countryman, Paul Virilio, has written of the tent cities which we are already seeing in parts of Africa and the Middle East. But in all this, there is still stillness that can be found when our minds are still. Plants and animals continue to feed so many of us, and the atmosphere and ocean, those other continents, continue to try make sense of our pollution. Which brings me to an important question. Would you be happy to advocate ethical consumerism in your show?”

Roo looked at the food on her plate rather wistfully. “That is a difficult question. It is ideal to consume ethically but what exactly does that mean? No more electronics because that depends on mining? I would be more interested in trying to teach people to live beautiful lives but I know there’s something very wrong with how we define ourselves by our consumption.”

“Incredibly astute my dear. But you could support buying organic for example and using biodegradable cleaning products?”

“Well” Roo said before Robert cut in. “We would need a platform where we were advocating food sovereignty, ideally where organic was the norm.”

Luke nodded “we don’t just want to make poor people feel guilty.”

Curtis smiled, “good, and what is your stance on homelessness?”

Roo smiled “that’s easy -no one should have to be homeless.”

“Anywhere?” Curtis said seriously.

“Anywhere”, Roo said with conviction. “I believe we all have a right to good food, water and shelter.”

“Any other rights you think we need at this time?” Curtis pushed.

Robert, Luke, and Roo looked at each other and then Robert said, “well we all like the human rights of the UN but it seems that people are more interested in their right to be advertised to in the developed world these days.”

“Interesting. The sponsor actually is a market abolitionist which is a rather impossible position and so she would like that to at least be discussed .” Luke looked perplexed “but she buys art from you?”

Curtis laughed “the rich are allowed quirks in this world that the rest of us would be imprisoned for.”

Robert said quietly “we can discuss models which are market abolitionist but that doesn’t mean they will air.”

“Indeed” Curtis said smiling, “though it might under the right circumstances. Now could you tell me the nature of the scandal?”

So Luke did and Curtis laughed looking fondly at Roo.

“And have you any takers as yet?”

“We have one potential straight man” Roo said.

“We haven’t advertised yet – we’ve been looking for the right place.”

“Would you like some assistance with the selection process if I get the go-ahead from your benefactor?”

They all looked at Roo. She glazed over for a moment and then took a mouthful of the vegetables left on her plate, relaxed and nodded. She swallowed, “if you can find interesting people who want to do or do interesting things that would help but I do have one request of maybe several. I would like some diversity in the mix, representative of the whole world.”

“You will have the right to veto my dear, but I suggest you don’t become too fixed on quotas. The quality of persons is what is important.” Roo thought for a second “well, we do at least need a northerner!”

Luke smiled “we’ll see love, will see.”

“And now may I suggest my dear that you take the remnants of our meals home for Luke to try so he can recreate it for you to and so we can indulge in some desert?”

Luke looked shocked and then nodded smiling.

“All right” he said.

The rest of the afternoon passed without them noticing the time as Roo asked to see some art and Curtis took them to an unexpected warehouse and they spent the afternoon and early evening drinking wine and looking at paintings and sculptures with Curtis making little notes all the while with the most beautiful understated pen in Roo’s opinion.

They were watching a video which made you feel as though you were getting wrapped in a tentacle when Curtis whispered to Roo, “you my dear will have to meet her regularly to help decompress.”

Roo continued to stare and then nodded “could I meet before we start though?”

“Yes of course. I meet her on Wednesday and then I will be in touch. She can meet the others too but I think she would rather keep things quiet.”

Roo nodded “of course, but for the first time I would feel safer with others with me or at least you.”

Curtis squeezed her shoulder gently. “Of course my dear. I will not send you in there all alone the first time.”

Roo nodded.

“Now let me call you a cab, you need to practice being more invisible.”

But the cost ! Roo thought and her eyes showed it.

“Don’t worry about the cost- its on me. You have absorbed enough today- you need some quiet time.”

And Roo smiled, realising she might giggle again in future and so nodded.

The cab arrived. Its bulbous form on the stark London street, the trees still without leaves. The cab driver got out and he shook hands with Curtis mumbling something about his mother which Curtis brushed away with single hand movement. The cab driver smiled “Carlos, and you are?”

They introduced themselves before turning to say goodbye to Curtis. Robert and Luke shook hands that Roo went in for a hug and the double cheek kiss.

“I will update you on Wednesday” Curtis said earnestly.

They nodded and then started to get into the cab, with Robert getting on the front seat.

In the cab, Carlos was going through his CDs and eventually settled on Low. “You don’t mind some decompression music do you? It’s just been a long day” Carlos asked.

“No, that would be wonderful.” Roo said and the others nodded.

“So it’s home for you then?” Carlos asked, as the music drifted through the cab.

“Yes please” Roberts said giving directions. Luke took Roo’s hand and she put her head on his shoulder, breathing out under her seatbelt. They rode in silence for a while and then ‘I started a joke’ started to play and Roo felt herself wanting to laugh but not needing to. It was a long way to go but by the time they got to Green Park Carlos was ready to talk. Robert and him chatted about Curtis and confirmed it was their first time meeting him. They talked about how Spain’s politics made one beam with delight and despair at the same time and then started talking about the delights of Jamon and the best place to get it in London at a reasonable price.

As the lights flashed by Roo felt herself drift into a doze, where all the paintings she had seen merged and flashed before her closed eyes. Luke started stroking her hair and she nuzzled up to him and when they got home they excused themselves, after giving Carlos a big tip because the trip was free, and then unbundled and made sense of the day with their bodies, slowly, carefully and with a bedside light on. When they got up to eat, they slow danced in the kitchen and Luke said he would try to take off at least one weekend a month. Roo smiled “so you really for a proper relationship too”. Luke stroked some hair from her face and nodded. “But I still think we can do the experiment.” Roo nodded. After that they shared a large napoli pizza, the only thing they had both known could be the right thing to eat in the day, they went back to bed and stayed there all of Sunday, surfacing only for food and ablutions

0 notes

nityarawal · 8 months

Text

10/11/2023

Morning Songs

Psyche

What's More Fun

To Be Happy

Or Sad

What's More Fun

Why So Mad

What's More Fun

My Pappa Always

Asks

Let's Have Fun

Make It Dandy

Why Do We Love

The Joy Of Our Gays

Make It Fun

Psyche Yourself

Out

Turn It Around

Take A Hike

Can You Do That

Cry If You Must

Just Don't Fall

In The Dust

Too Long

Cry If You Must

We All Have

We'll Cry For Our Babies

Beloved

Every Mothers Heart

Yearns

You See A Child

Caged

And Think

There Must Be

A Better Way

To Freedom

Children

Write A 3rd Testament

Sing Your Way Out

A Psalm

A Book

Write Out

Of This Quickly

My Daughter

Anjali Begs

Write

Is There A Way

To Free All Our Children

It's Not The Left Or

Right

That Makes

Me A Mom

Attached

To My Spawn

Educating Them

Is There A Way

To Free Babies

Globally

From War Scams

Yeah- I'm Glad

I Had A Plan B

Option

But He Was A Neo

Nazi Friend

Cloaked In 12 Rabbis

For Courts

20 Years Older

Malibu

Convertibles

Hollywood Starlets

Bought Out

We All Know A

David Farley Kaplan

I'm Sure

Mr. Huntley

Wished His Best Bro

Hadn't Chased His

Persian Princess's

Daughter

From 2 Years Old

Or Daniel Smactenberger

With Their Sex Clan

At College

My Daughter

Only 13 Now

Anjali

Prayers

For Prana

6 Years Of Apartheid

Custody

San Diego Marines

So Many Men I Would've

Liked To Save Us

Push A Hand

But They Can't Do It

They Couldn't Do It In Birth

Either

We're Just Lucky

Mammas Have A

Natural Instinct

Super Powers

So Band Together

Our Hearts Are Wide

We Love Your Babies

Of Every Tribe

Love 'Em Agape

Love 'Em Home

With Moms

This Isn't Democracy

In America Or Israel

50/50

When Woman Can't Get

Same Divorce Rights

As Trans

Or Men

It's Not Democracy

Enslaved To Unfaithful

Men

Iran Is Right

Moms Are Captive

Internationally

Screaming

Apartheid

Sunil Said He'd Protect

Us No More

He Took The Kaplan

Bribes Atty Court Package

2016

Got The Dr. Gardner

Services

Dr. Alan Silverman

Then Atty Jeff Fritz

Almost Killed Me

With Dr. Singh

And Violent Bribed

Officer Assistants

King Pimp Ringleader

Of Sandiego Slaves

Traffic Moms

Kids

For Decades

Retired Now

Or Dead

Unaccounted For

Sue Got The Meanest

Nazi Atty

Lori Clark Viviano

She Died

Barracuda Mamma

Sharkbait

Floundering In The Pacific

Yeah We Celebrated

RIPd Hell Out Of It

Families Do

Unfortunately My Atty

Tara Yelman Is No Longer

Standing

We'd Like To Sue Atty's

Estates

Like Michael Jackson's Scammers

His Estate Forever Pays

But Refunds From

Elon

On The Double

Sound Easier

Blissful

Refunds On The

Double

Rewind Lakshmi

Tech

CFO Jonathan Masters

Start Up

Stolen With

Magistrate Judge

Benny Waggoner

Rewind Those Pendants

They Don't Work

We Haven't Gotten

Reparations

From Violent Officers

Wearing Them

Mark Milton

Mark Ritchie

Mark Daughtery

Recorded

In 6 Years

Of History

Close The Defense

Team

PD Jay Curatolo

Is Right

"Courts Are Broken,"

And Pappa

Says

Get Onto Something

Fun

Refunds

Rewind

Do Us All A Favor

Listen To Sacred

Mammas

This Time

And Embrace

Our Baes

Agape Divine

With Peace

And New Homes

Still Wasting

Time

Gaslighting

No More World War 3

Send War La

Home

No More Secrecy

Spies

Looting Our Homes

No More Trust

Issues

Robert F. Kennedy

Could Get Relief

Just Fire Bush

Schmiz

Defense Teams

Their Prides

Not Mine

And We Need Our

Kids Now You See

So Agape Hearts

Please

Mothers Call

Mothers Beg

Mothers Plea

Stop The War On Our

Ovaries

Stop The War On Our

Kids

Wombs

All Sacred

Stop The War On Our

Sisters

Daughters

Mothers

Stop The War On Our

Businesses

Stop The War On

Education

Homes

Teachers

Stop The War On

My Kitchens'

Cooking

'Cuz Picnics

Thanksgiving

American Lore

Originates In Our

Homes Where We

Make Nutritious

Healthy Thanksgiving

Potlucks'

Mothers Call

Mothers Beg

Won't You Potluck

With Me Friends

Kids Happily

United

Instead

Peace,

Nitya Nella Azam Davigo Moezzi Huntley Rawal

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 9 months

Text

Hungry To See

“His fame spread throughout all Syria! Many people who were in pain and suffering with every kind of illness were brought to Jesus for their healing—epileptics, paralytics, and those tormented by demonic powers were all set free. Everyone who was brought to Jesus was healed!” Matthew 4:24TPT

“Have faith in God…” Mark 11:22NIV. Faith in God— while watching miracles— is easy. My mentor after the baptism of Holy Spirit related many miracles she’d witnessed living in California. This was during ‘the Jesus Revolution.’ A miracle she related was a man with a huge skin cancer tumor on the side of his head. Irma said it looked like a huge head of red-purple cauliflower. Lonnie Frisbee touched the tumor, which fell off onto the ground. Immediately, fresh new skin and hair developed where the tumor had been.

I’ve been hungry to see these wonderful miracles since 1978. Why haven’t I seen these things? God has been doing the miraculous only in sparse places. Kathryn Kuhlman was moving in the miraculous, along with Oral Roberts, AA Allen, and our church ridiculed everything they did. Lester Sumrall, and Charles and Francis Hunter were operating in Holy Spirit— but I didn’t know about any of them who were active in our time. Our church squelched every morsel of news about the miraculous.

Since leaving that church, I began searching for moves of God. Countless times I’ve gone to meetings, traveling hundreds of miles—Toronto Airport Vineyard Revival, Brownsville Revival, Benny Hinn Crusades, and Dr. Paul Yongi-Cho USA Crusades, Toledo revival in 1993.

The Greatest Awakening in the history of the earth is beginning. God’s glory is being poured out in small pockets around the world already. Dead people are being raised. Sick, maimed, lame, blind, deaf, crippled, and demoniacs are being delivered, set free in the power of Jesus’ name. This time we’re hearing more about the miracles occurring in evangelistic crusades, just like Jesus did. This is only the beginning. God is currently using Billy Burke with Kuhlman and Roberts type of miracles.

God will move as in Joel 2:28-29NIV “…Afterward, I will pour out My Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions. Even on My servants, both men and women, I will pour out My Spirit in those days.” Every true, praying, born again believer with faith will soon be fulfilllng God’s commission in Matthew 28, and Mark 16. Evangelizing the world, healing the sick and bringing forth mighty miracles of God— that’s you and I.

There was a video about a 5 year old’s dream. —His mother was going to war. She grabbed her sword when leaving for battle. He began screaming to her, ‘take your shield, take your shield.’ But she didn’t hear him, didn’t take the shield and was killed.— This child didn’t understand the relevance of the sword or shield spiritually, only saw them both in the dream. Interpretation: No one will make it in the upcoming battles without faith.

We’re being prepared, equipped to do the same healing, delivering works of Jesus in our text. God’s not going to use only special evangelists. Dressed in His armor, see Ephesians 6:10-18, we must BELIEVE God is everything He says He is. “Without faith it is impossible to please God…” Hebrews 11:6KJV. Then get busy. I’m seeking God to give me the gift of faith, see 1Corinthians 12:9. Will you prepare? Let’s use His power and pour out the move of God, we’ve all been waiting to see. It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Lord God increase our faith, please. Help us to stand still and perform all the works Jesus did, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

0 notes

oliverleefanfics · 3 years

Text

Tommy Wants to Fight

This is a Triple Frontier fic heavily inspired by the Badflower song Johnny Wants to Fight

Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Plus Size Reader - Reader described as she/her with female anatomy

Warnings: Abusive Boyfriend, Cheating, Mentions of a Possible Rape

AO3 Link - https://archiveofourown.org/series/2644687

Hey, Tommy, it's Benny. I heard some shit's been going down with your girl. I'm really sorry to hear that man, that sucks. But hey, look, if you're not doing anything tonight, we’re all going out, the usual place. We'll have some drinks, meet some girls, start some fucking trouble maybe, fuck, I don't know. Should be a good time though, man. Might help you forget about your situation. Well, hit me back if you wanna come out, peace brother.

Santiago pulls his phone from his pocket and types something out before returning the phone to his pocket. When Pope looks up Frankie is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. The dark haired man subtly shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer.

“So what happened with your girl, man?” Benny’s beer sloshes as he clumsily gestures in Tom’s direction. The five men have been at the bar awhile, a decent crowd has formed since they first arrived. Will and Ben have gotten pleasantly buzzed, while Santi and Frankie, being the dd’s for the night, have only had a couple of beers. Where Tom has gotten very drunk and shows no signs of slowing down. No one’s surprised, it’s far from an unusual occurrence, and given the circumstances it’s to be expected.

Tom had been slouched in the old rickety bar chair but he had sat straight up at the question, his anger reignited. Everybody at the table quietly regrets the question being asked, even Benny himself.

“Man, fuck that bitch. She had it so good with me and she has the nerve to cheat! On me!” Redfly drunkenly stabs his finger into his chest, gesturing to himself.

“Damn, she cheated?” Will asks, honest shock in his voice. Earlier attempts to broach the subject had been met with, “Who cares, fuck that bitch”.

Tom scoffs and takes a big chug of his whiskey. “Crazy right?” It is a surprise, everybody had loved you when they met you a couple weeks ago at Pope’s house. You didn’t seem like the type, nor did they see any sign you were unhappy.

Pope is relaxed back in his chair, legs spread wide. Sat across from him is Ironhead holding a similar relaxed position, while Redfly is sat to the blonde's right and Benny is at the head of the table between his brother and Santiago.

Frankie, who is sitting on Pope’s left, gives the dark haired man the same raised eyebrow when Pope asks, “Do you know with who?”

“No, but when I find out I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!” It’s not just the alcohol turning Tom’s normally pale face red anymore. The two generally more ‘level headed’ of the bunch, William and Frankie, share a look of concern. “You know, I thought I’d try something different, play it safe and date beneath me for once.”

“Woah, she seemed great, man”, Benny argues.

“Well, yeah she’s fine but I mean, she’s fat. But that’s why I went for her, more likely to be faithful and shit.”

Frankie, Will, and Benny shift uncomfortably in their seats, while Santi retains his relaxed posture. The only change in his position is the clenched fists restring on his thighs.

“I wanted the opposite of the last girl. Damn, she was hot as fuck. But this one ended in the same way! God, I put up with her whiny bitching for a month, for what?! For her to just go and cheat! I still don't understand how she could do that! I mean who the hell is even fucking her, she fucking sucks in bed too!”

Pope shrugs and says, “Well, somebody obviously disagrees with you, man. How’d you find out, anyways?”

“Santiago.” Frankie sternly whispers only loud enough for Pope to hear.

“She came by apparently to break up with me but her neck looked like she’d been mauled by a freaking animal there were so many marks!” Santiago chokes on his beer and starts coughing.

Frankie starts smacking his back and asks, “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, went down the wrong pipe”, Pope replies, his voice horse.

Once his coughing fit is over he looks up and watches three very distinct looks cross Redfly's face. The first is a look of contemplation, the second is realization, and the third finale one, a look of pure unadulterated rage.

Something must’ve gave me away.

Tom jumps up, the veins on his neck popping out. “You son of bitch!”

Pope, already on the defensive, stands with him. Frankie is up and around the table in an instant, grabbing a hold of Tom. Will and Benny are quick to help Fish, even though they have no clue what’s happening.

“Tom-“ Pope tries but Tom is quick to cut him off.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Spit flies out of Tom’s mouth, spraying across the table, some drops landing on Pope’s forearms.

Santiago, never one to back down and looking for something to assuage his guilt, spreads his arms out and says, “Let’s go outside then, right now. Let’s give everyone a show.”

Tom tries to lunge across the table but fortunately the grip the three men have on him holds.

“Santiago, irte ahora(leave now).” Francisco’s stern tone leaves no room for arguing. Pope takes a breath, gives a slight nod to Frankie, grabs his coat from the back of his chair and leaves the bar.

He’s calling you as soon as he’s pulling out of the parking lot.

“Santi-“

“He knows.”

“Shit.”

Three Days Prior

Thunderstorms just aren’t the same after being in combat. Santiago is trying to distract himself with a book when he thinks he hears a knock. He pauses to listen, and he hears it again. Pope gets up and looks out his front window. He’s shocked to see Tom's girlfriend standing on his porch. Pope quickly goes to his door, unlocking it before opening it. You’re standing there soaked from the rain and from the light on his porch he can tell you’re crying. It's a stark difference from when he met you a couple of weeks ago in this same spot. You had come over to his house with Tom for a barbecue.

“Pope, I’m sorry, I know we don’t really know each other and Tom’s your friend but I didn’t know where to go and-.” Your words rush out and blur together.

“Hey, hey, come in. You’re fine, come in.” Santiago gently grabs your arm and pulls you into the entry. Pope closes the door behind you and re locks it. He turns around and you’re standing awkwardly in his entry way shivering. You look miserable and Santi is frozen.

He’s not sure what to do, he’s never been good at the comforting thing and you seem to be in shock. It sounds like it might have to do with Tom but he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries by asking. He’ll let you tell him if you want. Well, his first priority should be getting you warm and dry. He slowly reaches out his hand and makes sure to talk softly. He wants to get your attention, not startle you.

“Hey, why don’t you hop in the shower to warm up? Leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll throw them in the dryer?” You just nod as you take off your shoes and then let him lead you to his bathroom.

“Towels are right there. I’ll be back when I hear the shower on and grab your clothes from outside, ok?” Santi talks quietly again, you just nod again and close the door.

You go through the motions and strip down, opening the door just enough to set your wet clothes down, everything but your underwear. Then you turn on the shower, high heat, and let steam fill the bathroom before stepping into the shower. You stand there for a minute or two before you start to sob. Everything is catching up to you and you need a release. Eventually, you calm down and debate getting out but it feels weird not cleaning yourself in the shower. It also wouldn’t hurt to wash this awful day away, so you grab Popes shower gel. You’re not surprised it smells amazing, you remember him hugging you the first time you met and thinking he smelled great.

You finish washing and get out of the shower. You grab one of Pope’s surprisingly soft towels and start to dry off. You pause to wipe the mirror and look at your reflection. God, you look awful. It’s very obvious you’ve been crying and you just look so sad.

That’s it, you’re going to go back over to Tom’s in the morning and break up with him. He should be sober by then, you can grab what little you have at his place and tell him you’re done. A knock startles you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, I’m going to leave a shirt out here for you while your clothes dry. I’m sorry I have nothing else for you to wear but…” You can’t help but laugh as Santi trails off awkwardly.

“It’s fine. You’re so small, Pope, are sure the shirt will even fit.”

“I am not small, I’m fun sized!” Santi jokes through the door and you laugh. “ But yeah, the shirt is actually Will’s so you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you, Pope. For, um, everything.” You tell him sincerely.

“Hey, of course. I’ll be in the living room, I got a blanket waiting for you.” You hear him walk away and open the door a smidge to grab the shirt.

You throw the black band tee on and laugh. Pope said it was Will’s but it definitely smells like him. You bet he sleeps in the t-shirt cause it’s baggy on him, the thought is surprisingly adorable. You throw your underwear on and exit the bathroom.

Popes sat down on his couch leaned forward, elbows on his knees while his hands rub his face. “What the hell am I doing? ‘Hey just come out here with just a shirt on. You can cover up with a blanket, it’ll be totally fine.’ It’s fine, this is Tom’s girlfriend, I’m just being a good friend. Just don’t be your normal flirty self, Pope. Even though you wanted her the second you met her. God, get yourself together. It’s Tom’s girlfriend.”

The bathroom door opening stops Santi’s self ranting. He quickly sits back and picks up his long abandoned book, trying to appear casual. He clears his throat when you approach the back of the couch, “I’ll close my eyes, you can sit down and cover up. No peeping, scouts honor”.

He saluts and you snort. You walk around the couch, grabbing the soft grey knit blanket before settling down on the opposite side of the couch as Pope.

“You were in the scouts? You can look now.” Pope chuckles.

“No, but the army’s close enough, right?.” Pope looks over at you and, fuck if his heart doesn’t skip. It’s still obvious you’ve been crying and you’re definitely not happy looking. Though, he thinks you don’t look quite as miserable as when you first showed up at his door, you look more resigned now. But god, if you aren’t still gorgeous as ever, his lamp casting you in a soft golden light.

You’re leaning back against the arm of the couch, curled up as much as you can, facing Pope. He’s framed by the lamp light behind him, his hair is all messed up like he’s been running his hands through it. It’s longer than you remember it being, his curls more prominent, a stubborn strand falling across his forehead. It’s a good look, goes well with his five o’clock shadow. Probably, not something you should notice when you’re here hiding from your boyfriend. It’s hard not to notice Santiago’s handsomeness, you realized that when you met him last week.

Silence falls between you and there’s a little bit of awkwardness now. More so because Santi really wants to ask what’s wrong, and you want to tell him but you don't know how to start, not because it’s awkward being here together. No, you both feel comfortable in each other’s presence, probably too comfortable since one of you is not single and dating his close friend.

“Tom’s a dick.” Pope sputters at your blunt statement. You didn’t mean that to be the first thing you blurted out but well, it’s the first thought you had.

“Yeah, he really can be.” Sant sighs out and you’re shocked. You thought he’d immediately come to his friend's defense. “He didn’t use to be so bad, the army really fucked with him. What did he do?”

“He got drunk, and told me to come over. I didn’t realize he was drunk till I got there and…” You hesitate, and Pope’s even more concerned now. He leans toward you and rests his hand on your knee, catching your eyes with his.

“Did he hurt you?” The low, threatening seriousness in Santi’s tone surprises you. It also does something else to you, you’re not ready to admit. You quickly shake your head to assuage his concern. He leans back, relaxing again.

“Not physically, no… but I was worried he would, that’s why I ended up fleeing his place. He’s been an asshole a lot but something was different tonight. Something that really scared me, Pope.” Santi quietly cusses.

“He needs help. He’s the only one of us still refusing to get help. I don't think he’s hit his rock bottom yet, like we have. I’m really sorry you’ve ended up with his shit, cariño.” The endearment slips out and Pope looks down, hiding his blush. Your face warms and you stop a small smile from appearing.

“You don’t need to apologize for him. He’s a grown ass man that needs to get his shit together.” You let out a long weary sigh before continuing.

“You know, I think he just got with me because he thought I wouldn’t leave him. Like, he could do whatever and I’d just deal with it. And, fuck, he ended up being right. I have so much confidence and I never give a shit what any man says.”

“Tom just started out so fucking nice. He took me on these sweet dates and got me little gifts. I’ve never felt the way I did those first couple of weeks. Then he started to change, he would make little comments here and there. I’d tell him they upset me, and he’d tell me that’s not what he meant. That I was being too sensitive, and if I took everything he said wrong how could he talk to me. I see now he was fucking gaslighting me like crazy. God, what he did really got under my skin and had me starting to believe his bullshit.

“At first, he was so sweet and he’d compliment me all the time. But that stopped and then he started getting drunk around. That’s when he really got nasty. His favorite thing to tell me is how fat I am and how lucky I should be he’s with me. How he can’t believe any would find me attractive. Tonight he told me he doesn’t even find me attractive and that’s why he always fucks me with the lights off.”

You let out a fake laugh as tears run down your face. Santi was sitting back letting you talk, while his fists clenched in anger. How could Tom treat you so badly? Say such bullshit to you? Tom always talks as if he thought the world of you. Pope leans towards you, using his thumbs to gently brush away your tears.

“You don’t deserve that, hermosa.” You lightly grab one of Santiago’s wrist.

“I know, Pope, I think I just got caught up in this whirlwind. He was the perfect boyfriend at first But then his true colors sstarted to show and he turned into this fucking monster. I still can’t believe I didn’t realize how miserable I am with him.” Pope leans back a bit and grabs your hands, resting them in your lap. You take a deep breath and look down before continuing. You talk so quietly, that he holds his breath to listen to you.

“And then yesterday I found out he's been cheating on me. I confronted him but he just kept denying it. Then tonight he asked me to come over to explain. I got there and he was drunk, said he wanted to ‘make it up to me’. I thought he was going to hurt me. He didn’t want to listen to me when I said no and… I had to leave, go some place I felt safe.” Pope’s furious yet extremely pleased you thought of him and his place as being safe.

“Shit, hermosa, I’m so fucking glad you did come here. I didn’t realize he had gotten so bad, that he would even think of-“. Santi can’t even voice the thought, just as you couldn’t before. “We’ll talk to him, me and the boys.” You nod and meet his eyes again.

“Thank you, Santi.” Damn, that’s the first time you’ve called him anything but Pope and it does things to him. “I think you should, but I’m still going to break up with him. I don't love him and even if he changed, got better, I couldn’t go back to him.” Pope nods.

“Of course, and I’ll be here for you, the rest of the guys too, you’re our friend now too.” You start crying again and tackle Pope into a fierce hug that takes his breath away. He’s quick to return the hug, and his hands rub your back comfortingly.

“Thank you.” You whisper breathily in his ear and he shivers. He knows there’s no way you didn’t feel that.

You pull back and realize in your haste to hug him the blanket has fallen onto the floor. Pope doesn’t even think before he’s looking down at the strip of belly peeking out the bottom of your shirt, down to your underwear and continuing down your bare thighs. Pope's hand slowly reaches out and caresses your thigh. Fuck, you’re so soft under his touch, and his soft but calleused hands feel amazing on your skin.

You cup his cheek, running your thumbs across his scratchy stubble. Santi grips your thick thigh and shifts his whole body closer until your legs are pressed against each other’s. His other hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, and your hand splays against his chest.

“Santi, we shouldn’t.” You whisper as you lean your head towards his.

“I know, but you know what, I don't care. He treated you so bad, baby. Let me show you how you deserve to be treated. Let me worship you, carino.” Santiago whispers back.

All the reasons not to do this disappear as you lean in the rest of the way and press your lips to his. All of the consequences this is going to have should be present in Pope’s mind but all he can think about is how soft yet slightly chapped your lips are, and how perfectly they fit with his. Then you open your mouth more, your tongue caressing his, and now all he can think is how amazing you taste. He moans deep in his throat and your fervor increases. You think you could get addicted to his mouth, his taste.

You break the kiss, but rest your forehead on his. The both of you are panting and Santi huskily says, “let’s take this to bed, baby.” You nod against his head and he stands up. Pope grabs your hand and pulls you up so your front is pressed against his. He gives you a quick but deep kiss before leading you by hand to his bedroom.

#triple frontier #santiago x reader #santiago x plus size reader #plus size reader #reader insert #no use of y/n #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago pope Garcia x reader

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

For the 390 prompts, how about #381 “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” with Catfish... My devil side want to make it angst but it's totaly up to you 😭 🌱

It’s angst hours, baby!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey,” Santi slipped into your abandoned stool at the bar next to Frankie. You were all at the bar for weekly get together, but Frankie had noticed you seemed down from the moment you walked in. He was attuned to you, very much so from years of being your closest friend, but it hadn’t taken much to see that you were upset. Your lips barely managed to curve into a smile, and your eyes had a heavy tiredness behind them, despite your best efforts to appear happy, “you heard about what happened, right? With Bee?”

“I...no? She hasn’t said anything to me,” his brows knitted together in confusion as he downed the rest of his beer. A sense of worry settled into his bones at your behavior; it was so strange and unlike you, “w-what happened?”

“Mark,” Santi dramatically rolled his eyes at Frankie before flagging the bartender over for another round of drinks; it seemed like you could all use it. Rage boiled in his blood at the sound of the name; he’d hated Mark from the day the two men had met. It wasn’t just because he was the man that had won over your affections, although that was definitely a large part of it, but because after a while it was clear that he was genuinely an asshole. He wasn’t good, or good to you, but for some reason you’d never seen that. You ended up putting up with so much shit that you’d normally never take from anyone else. Frankie’s grasp around his empty bottle was so tight it was a surprise it didn’t shatter into little pieces, “he cheated on her...she finally dumped him.”

“He cheated on her? That fucking asshole,” Frankie almost jumped out of his spot as every bad thing he wanted to do to the man that broke your heart bubbled up, “I will-”

“She found them together,” Santi put his hand on Frankie’s arm to calm him down, “and apparently he still tried to make it seem like her fault. She’s really upset, Fish. Don’t make things worse right now. I know - we all know - how you feel about her. Give her time and space.”

“I’m her best friend,” he huffed as he slid out of his spot, “I need to be there for her. I’ll just...I’ll make sure she’s okay. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me...:”

“Why do you think, Fish?” Santi cocked a brow at his friend before letting out a long sigh, “she knows you’ve always hated him. She doesn’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble. She loves you too, you know. Even if she doesn’t realize that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everyone knows it,” Santi was amused at how blind the both of you could be at times, “it’s so obvious to everyone...except perhaps the two of you. The way you look at each other, how you act...that shit ain’t just friends shit. You both know it.”

“Then why did she date Mark? For almost two years and waste that time on him?” Frankie grew frustrated as he slid off the stool and hit the dirty floor of the bar with a dull thud, “why wouldn’t she say anything to me?”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything to her?”

“I don’t want to lose Bee,” he pulled off his old, batted cap and hand a hand through his curls in frustration, before slapping it back on his head, “I’d rather keep her as my friend forever than face a life without her.”

“There’s your answer.”

“I’ve got to see her,” he insisted, brushing past Santi, “I have to let her know.”

“Don’t - give her time and space,” Santi grabbed his arm and insisted, “don’t push her just because he’s gone. She’s hurt and been through a lot. Be her friend and let things happen on their own.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Frankie snapped as he pulled out of Santi’s grasp and headed to the back of the bar, where he’d seen you step outside and disappear a little bit earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were pacing around with your phone pressed to your ear as you tried to keep it together and not break down into another fit of tears and sadness. The whole day had seemed like a blur, one painful, horrible nightmare and you just wanted it to be over. You just wanted to sleep and wake up and have no memory of anything. Perhaps not even the last two years.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” your sister sounded as incredulous as you felt, “you’ve been so good to him, more than he deserves honestly, and for him to do that? Asshole. I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, babes.”

“Me too,” was all you could choke out as your lips trembled with effort not to cry. You looked at the inky black sky, dotted with glittering stars as you tried to ground yourself.

“At least you’ve got the guys with you. If he does or says anything, you know they’ve got your back,” she reminded you, causing you to experience a momentary pause of peace, “and now you can finally tell Frankie how you feel.”

“No,” you insisted firmly as Frankie stepped outside, quiet as a mouse as he tried not to interrupt. He hadn’t meant to be sneaky and listen in, truly, but now that he was there, he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m not telling him anything.”

“You love him! You’ve been in love with him for what? Almost six years?” she scoffed at the other end of line, “you have to tell him how you feel, now is the time. He’s not...he’s not to wait for you forever. If you love him, let him know.”

“I don’t,” you lied thickly, steeling your nerves as you bit back bile. It was hard to lie; especially when it came to Frankie. He was everything you were not: good, gentle, pure, loving. He didn’t deserve to have you dragging him down. He deserved the world - something you felt you could never give him. He would be so much better off without you, no matter how much you actually loved him.

“You’re such a liar!” she insisted as you groaned, “the two of you are in love! You’re just blind fools, scared to get hurt.”

“No!” you shouldn't have called her, you should have just gone home and cried yourself to sleep like you had planned on, “I don’t love him! I don’t love Frankie. He’s nothing but a friend and he’ll never be anything else!”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to your angry tirade. He must have heard wrong...surely you hadn’t meant it, right? Santi had said...everyone had told him….he loved you. But...you didn’t love him? He needed to get out of there and fast; he left like he was going to be sick. But as he turned on his heel, he almost slipped on a rock and made a small sound of surprise.

You froze in fear at the sound, realizing for the first time that you weren’t alone at all. Your sister was still babbling away at you, calling you a liar as you turned around and found Frankie, frozen in fear as he tried to get back inside. You swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what had happened; he had heard your blatant denial of love. The lie you wish you’d never spewed. Ending the call without a word, you stepped closer to him as his own eyes appeared glossy with tears.

“Oh Frankie,” your voice cracked as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Could this day really have gotten that much worse? You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly, “I came to look for you, to make sure you were okay. Santi told me what happened.”

“Frankie, it was a lie,” you might as well tell him the truth now. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and he deserved to know the truth finally, “I was talking to my sister and it was all a lie. I didn’t mean it. I-I do love you-”

“You don’t need to lie to me now to spare my feelings,” he stared at the ground before slowly opening the door to the bustling bar back open, “if that’s how you feel it’s how you feel. I just...I should have known better. I was the fool, not you.”

“Francisco, don’t go,” you darted towards him but he was already inside and weaving his way through the crowd, barely acknowledging your friends as he made to leave, “Frankie! Frankie! Don’t do - don’t walk away. It was a lie to get her off my back and because I….”

“Because what?” he turned around, and the look on his face was enough to break your heart then and there. His cheeks were already tear stained and his eyes were nothing but hurt, as you struggled to find the right words. After a few beats of tense silence, he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Bee. Eventually...I just need some time to deal with my own feelings. I’m sorry I thought there could ever be more between us.”

“Francisco,” his name was a pitiful whimper as you watched him get into his truck and start, leaving without hesitation. Your hands flew to your face as you stood there in panic, “what have I done?”

“Bee?” Benny came up behind you, confused as he looked between you and the spot Frankie was previously parked in, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“I think I just fucked everything up,” you admitted as you let him pull you into a hug, “I think I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“He’ll come around,” Benny promised, although it felt hollow, “it’s Fish. You know he will.”

“I hope so,” you cried, “I sure hope so.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fem!reader

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