#I’m so hungry and tired all the goddamn time. I wish I enjoyed/was good at making food.

[blueish-bird]

writing a Part 1 CSM fic where everyone’s just hanging out, but I can’t work on it for too long or it makes me sad and lonely and a little hopeless because. at least they have each other and an apartment/home and know how to make food lmao.

[starks-hero]

What He Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him

Pairing: Loki x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Loki had been doing a fairly decent job at keeping your relationship a secret from the other members of the team, specifically your father. But what happens when word finally gets out?

Word Count: 4,480

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, angst

a/n: This gif, that is all

You had your music playing at full volume as you worked your way around the lab, your latest suit laid out on the table. It was almost finished and you were more than impressed with how it had turned out.

Grabbing one of the many tools strewn out on the tabletop, you got to work assuring each circuit was in place.

It was fair to say that whilst you were in one of your zones, you could easily get lost in your work. Which was probably the reasons you hadn't noticed Loki make his way into the lab.

You jumped slightly when two slender arms wrapped around your middle. “Loki,” you scolded, not taking your eyes away from your work. “I'm busy.”

He chuckled. “I can see that, dove,” he purred. “But I'm bored.”

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you stay out of my way,” you offered, smirking when Loki rose his hands innocently.

“You won't even know I'm here.”

You managed to steal five minutes of peace. And then Loki's ability to sit still and not cause trouble seemed to reach its end. He started simply, standing ridiculously close, running his hand along your side. Your frustrated sigh and visible struggle to focus on your suit only egged him on. He re-positioned himself behind you, hands resting on your hips and lips finding your neck.

When one of his hands began to trace down your stomach and towards the waistband of your jeans you drew the line.

“Loki, stop.” you chided urgently. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he asked, nipping at the exposed skin of your neck. “It's as good a place as any.”

“Someone could see,” you pressed on.

Loki’s kissing ceased but he didn't remove his arms from around you. If anything he held you tighter.

“And would that be such a bad thing?” he asked after a beat of silence. You sighed and turned in his arms, now facing the god. His eyes said it all, he wasn't hurt, but he was tired of keeping up this charade.

He hated having to wait till you were both alone to show his affection, having to settle for stolen kisses and subtle glances all in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the team. Loki was growing sick of it. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, mark you, to show everyone you belonged to him. He hated having to hide his feelings as if they weren’t acceptable.

“Loki, we've talked about this. If the team finds out, especially my dad, it'll cause nothing but trouble.” You frowned at Loki's defeated expression. “I want to tell them, I do. I love you and I want everyone to know that. But only when the time is right.”

Loki nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Slender fingers wrapping around your wrist and he placed a kiss to your hand. “As you wish, darling.”

Loki turned to leave but you gently grasped hold of his sleeve and tugged him back. “Where do you think you're going?”

Loki tilted his head. “You said-”

“I said I wasn't ready to tell them,” you clarified. “I never said anything about you leaving.”

A devilish smirked spread across Loki's lips as he stepped back towards you, hands grasping your waist. “Why of course, my dear.” He pushed you against the cool steel of the table. “How may I be of service to you?”

You pulled him into a hungry kiss and he practically moaned into your mouth. Grasping hold of your thighs, he hoisted you up onto the table and slotted himself snugly between your legs. Truth be told, this wasn't what you had in mind. You were serious when you said the lab wasn't a good place to start something but Loki was just too irresistible. His kisses trailed from your jaw down your neck and you couldn't help the whimper that left your lips as he sucked on the sweet spot just above your collar bone.

Your hand tangled in his raven hair and he laughed breathlessly against your skin as he pulled you closer to him. “That's it, pet.”

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat caused both of you to almost jump out of your skin. You turned towards the lab door and found a rather unimpressed Natasha standing in the threshold, arms crossed and glare seething into a certain god.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you hurriedly pushed Loki away and scrambled to your feet.

“Oh, no. Don't stop on my account,” Nat snarled and the venom in her tone was enough to send shivers down even Loki's spine.

“Nat! We were just-”

“Don't bullshit me, Y/N. You know it doesn't work,” Nat stated plainly and you swallowed. She was right, it was near impossible to successfully lie to her. “Does your father know?”

“No, no, no. Nat, you can't tell him,” you begged. “He'll kill us.”

Natasha scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki, who was still standing sheepishly behind you. “He's lucky I haven't killed him myself.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. When it came down to it, he was a god and Nat was human. She probably couldn't do much damage to him. But she was certainly intimidating. Loki wasn't so much upset over the fact that you'd been caught, if anything Loki found it rather exciting. His only worry was how this situation would pan out for you. And your relationship.

“Natasha, please. You know how my dad overreacts.”

“I'm not sure I'd count ‘getting pissed that your daughter's dating a criminal’ as overreacting.”

You felt helpless. With Tony as your father, the team were the closest thing you had to family. Nat had always been important to you, she was an older sister, a cool aunt and in some cases, a understanding mother all rolled up into one. She wanted what was best for you, and you knew if that meant throwing Loki under the bus, she wouldn't hesitate.

Noticing your struggle, Loki decided to intervene.

“Agent Romanoff, if you'd allow us to explain. I-”

Nat turned to Loki with a glare that stopped the god mid-sentence. “I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Y/N.” She turned back to you. “Tell your dad.”

“What?!”

“Tell Tony about this.” She clarified, gesturing between you and Loki. “Or I will.”

“Nat,” you started but as she raised an eyebrow you knew she wasn't bluffing. She was dead serious.

“Okay, okay, fine. We'll tell him. But just not yet-” you hesitated. “Just give us a little more time to figure it all out.”

Natasha seemed unconvinced, to say the least, but when she noticed the genuine worry in your expression she backed off and her voice softened.

“Fine. But if he finds out beforehand, I had no idea about any of this,” she ordered. “And you,” Nat glanced at Loki who was still standing behind you. “Are on thin ice.”

Nat turned to leave, shooting one final glare Loki’s way. “Oh, and a bit of advice. Next time lock the goddamn door.”

You both sighed in temporary relief as the door slammed shut and you were left alone.

“Well, that went well,” Loki commented sarcastically, rubbing at his temple.

“And that was only Nat. How do you think the others are going to react?” You took a seat on the workbench and Loki joined you.

“Were you serious?” he asked. “About telling them? Telling him?”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I suppose we don't have much of a choice now, do we?” You murmured and Loki chuckled slightly.

“I suppose not.”

“You're enjoying this.” You growled as Loki’s mood seemed only slightly diminished by the situation you’d just been landed in.

“Yes, I find being threatened by a world-class assassin immensely enjoyable,” he noted nonchalantly. Loki sighed when the fear remained evident in your expression. He gently caught your wrist and pulled it away from your face, lacing your fingers as he did so. “Honestly, my dear. There's no need to worry. It will be fine.”

“You sound awfully sure.”

“That’s because I am,” Loki smirked, his tone reassuring and soft. He placed a harmless kiss against your cheek, but couldn’t resist the urge to continue down to your jaw.

His nose grazed your neck as his breath fanned out over your skin. His voice fell to a low whisper. “Now, what was it we were getting to before we were so rudely interrupted?”

You couldn’t help but laugh in slight disbelief. “You never learn, do you?”

Loki flicked his wrist as he began to plant kisses down your neck. “Do you take me for a fool?”

 You glanced at the labs' door to find the keypad had turned red. Locked. Smirking, Loki pushed you down and picked up where he'd left off.

It had been a little over a week since Natasha had found out about your relationship with Loki and thankfully, she hadn't said anything as of yet. She was giving you a generous amount of time to build up the courage to tell both your father and the rest of the team, but it was courage you were yet to find. The stress of the whole situation had been getting to you, something that was becoming more and more apparent to Loki.

In some desperate attempt to help you blow off a little steam, the god had dragged you down to the training hall. You and Loki often trained together, though since the beginning of your relationship, training seldom actually took place during your sessions.

But you needed it today, and after less than fifteen minutes of sparring, you could already feel some of the stress dissipating.

“Let's try that again,” Loki stated, helping you up from where you'd fallen back onto the training mat. He steadied you before pacing back a few steps as you both prepared for another round.

You made the first move, Loki easily blocking your strike. He caught your other arm as you tried to hit his shoulder and he only barely avoided a knee in the groin by spinning you around and catching you in a gentle headlock.

“Fighting dirty today are we, darling?” He purred in your ear and you smirked. Leaning forward, you used the momentum to throw Loki over your shoulder, straddling him to assure he stayed down.

“Problem with that?”

Loki chuckled, staring up at you. “Certainly not.” Throwing his leg over and shifting his weight, he threw you off of him and you landed on the floor beside him. He then took up his position on top of you. “Two can play at that game.”

He used his new vantage point to lean down and kiss your shoulder. “And I do enjoy it so very much.”

You turned your head to the side to grant Loki better access as he kissed up your neck, but your blood ran cold when you noticed a familiar figure standing dumbstruck at the halls entrance.

“Shit, Steve!” You pushed Loki off of you and for a moment he thought it was an attempted diversion until his own eyes locked with the captains. “Steve, wait!”

He was already turning to leave and you took off after him, Loki right behind you. You barely caught him before he reached the door. “Steve, hear us out, please.”

He turned to look at you with slight disappointment, his cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment given what he'd just walked in on. “Why didn't you tell us, Y/N?”

“I swear I was going to. I should have sooner and I'm sorry.” You rushed. “But please, Steve. You can't tell my dad, not yet.”

Steve hesitated. He'd taken you under his wing from day one and he'd be lying if he said he saw you as anything less than family. He didn't want to put you in a situation where he knew you'd face hardship. But he also didn't want to put his relationship with Tony on the line. He knew what that could lead to.

“I won't lie to Tony.”

“Then just don't say anything!” You tried. “Not saying anything technically isn't lying.”

Steve sighed, glancing between you both, his eyes lingering on Loki a moment longer. Loki seemed to have read the captains mind.

“Captain, I understand your concerns. But I can assure you my intentions are completely good-willed.”

Steve shook his head, questioning his sanity. “Does anyone else know?”

“Natasha, that's it.”

Steve seriously pondered the dilemma he was being faced with. Part of him wanted to march off and tell Tony, part of him wanted to strangle Loki for even putting his hands on you and the other part was still hung up on how upset you’d be if he chose either of the latter options.

“Alright,” Steve said after a moment of silence and relief flooded your expression. “But if your father asks-”

“I understand.” You nodded, still breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Steve.”

You counted your lucky stars as Steve left the training hall, the whole conversation having gone way better than you could have possibly imagined.

“You know, my dear,” Loki stated from behind you. “We really must stop picking the worst possible places in the compound to make out.”

You'd been peacefully working away in the lab, adding the finishing touches to the suit you'd been working on. A few more final touch-ups and a test run and it would be ready for missions.

The door slamming opened behind you immediately caught your attention as a severely pissed off Loki stormed in. His jaw was set and his hands were balled into fists. This couldn't be good.

“Loki, what's wrong?” you asked, rounding the table and approaching him. He was already pacing.

“Thor knows,” he growled and your heart stopped. “He was asking ridiculous questions about you and I and he knew I was lying.”

You inhaled sharply and did your best to avoid groaning in frustration, unable to grasp how Loki of all people had gotten caught out lying. “Loki, you're the god of lies.”

“And Thor's a persistent bastard!” He bit back.

You grappled with the little composure you had left and sighed. Loki was still clearly fretting and at least one of you had to start thinking straight.

“Okay, well what did he say?”

“That he wouldn't tell anyone,” Loki murmured, running his index finger along his top lip, something he often did when nervous.

“Alright then, what are we worried about? He said he wouldn't tell.”

Loki scoffed. “It's Thor! He struggles to keep the simplest of secrets, he's going to let it slip!” Loki took a seat and wrung his hands. “Your father is going to kill me.”

You stepped towards him and ran a comforting hand through his raven hair. He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your stomach.

“You're a god, Loki. I don't think he could kill you even if he wanted to.”

“He'll find a way,” Loki moped, tightening his hold on you.

You huffed at Loki's dramatic antiques as you continued to run your hand through his hair. One thing was now painfully clear, you needed to tell your dad. Before anyone else found out.

It was all planned out perfectly. The team was set to have dinner together in an attempt to bring some normality to your crazy lives, and you figured it would be the best time to break the new. You'd wait until everyone had finished eating and you and your dad were alone and then you'd tell him.

Not only did you think it would be better to have the conversation one on one, but Loki not being there also lessened the likely hood of your father trying to kill him if he didn't take the news kindly.

The only major challenge now was making it through the dinner itself without losing your nerve. Loki assured you that he'd be by your side right up until the moment he had to leave, and he meant it. Your father sat at the head of the table, because of course he did, and you sat to his right. Loki was seated beside you.

Most of the dinner passed as they usually did when the team ate together. Clint complained about the take out choice, Nat downed an impressive amount of wine whilst somehow remaining sober and a philosophical debate had broken out despite their being no indication as to what had started it.

For once, you and Loki remained silent, too nervous to offer any input should your worrisome tone give you away. You had spent most of the dinner toying with the food on your plate with your fork.

Loki's hand gently held yours beneath the table. It was risky, but no one had noticed and it was currently the only thing keeping you sane.

“You alright, kiddo?”

You glanced up to find your dad staring at you. He motioned to your untouched plate of food.

“You haven't touched your take out. It's your favourite.”

“Oh yeah, I- uh,” you stumbled over your own words and cursed yourself for being caught off guard. Most of the team were still chatting amongst themselves, but Steve and Natasha were now watching the exchange between you and Tony attentively. “I guess I'm just not that hungry.”

He seemed entirely unconvinced and leaned in slightly, away from the prying ears of the table. “You sure everything's alright?”

You gulped. Your father was no idiot and he knew something was eating away at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Nat nodding her head and Steve smiling supportively. This was the perfect opportunity to bring it up and you decided it was now or never. “Well, actually-”

“Nice going, Clint!”

Both your heads snapped up to see that a knocked over wine bottle had stained both the end of the table and Bruce's white shirt.

“Hey! It's not my fault. Who even drinks this stuff anyway?!”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean, bird brain?” Sam yelled, possessively grabbing what was left in the overturned bottle and dunking it into his glass. Bucky hid his smile behind his bottle of beer.

Everyone else's attention had turned to Bruce, who seemed to be doing an excellent job at not hulking out and sending Clint through the nearest wall.

You bit your lip.

“Dad, is it alright if I leave? I'm not feeling up to eating right now.” You asked. Now clearly wasn't the best time to bring something up and you decided waiting till after everyone had turned it in for the night was probably best.

“Sure thing, sweet pea,” he smiled as you stood and pushed in your chair behind you. Loki followed you, rising to his feet.

“I think it's time I also take my leave.” No one paid much attention as Loki mimicked your actions and prepared to leave the table.

“Leaving already?” Wanda asked politely and you smiled back, already prepared to answer with ‘Yeah, I'm just tired.’

“Of course they are! I'm sure my brother and Y/N have much to do and discuss,” Thor smirked, winking and raising his glass to the both of you in a not so subtle way.

Silence fell over the entire table and you and Loki grew rigid. Natasha and Steve turned to glare at Thor, who lowered his glass, realising what exactly he'd just said.

“What?” Tony said, turning to Thor with a shocked expression. Loki quickly stepped in.

“I think my brother may have had a tad too much Asgardian ale, I-

“No, what did you say?” He asked again, voice raising. All eyes were now either on Tony, Loki or you.

Thor seemed to shrink into his seat, taking interest in the bottom of his cup as he attempted to backtrack and fix his mistake. But it was too late.

Your father's gaze turned to you and then Loki, who was cautiously standing behind you. 

“One chance.” He was livid. “You get one chance to tell me the truth.”

“Dad, can we not do this now,” you asked quietly.

“The truth, Y/N.” You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen your father so angry. And as terrified as you were, you knew lying would only dig you a deeper hole.

“I was going to tell you,” you started, wincing as he ran a hand down his face. “I just didn't know how and then Nat told me I should just-”

Your father's glare turned to Natasha who choked on her wine at your words. You mentally grimaced as you realized what you'd just said.

“Oh, so you knew!” Tony yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Nat. He turned back to you. “You told Thor and Natasha before you told me!”

“I didn't tell her! She just sort of found out...” you fumbled and Tony laughed humorlessly.

“Did anybody else know besides Nat and point break?” he asked, addressing the whole table. Steve fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and Tony immediately singled him out.

“Steve.” He crossed his arms as he glared at the captain. “Something on your mind?”

Steve sighed. “Look, Tony I-”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers.”

Steve nodded wordlessly and Tony bit the inside of his cheek, looking as though he was prepared to rip into each member of the team. You cowered back slightly and Loki stepped infront of you, shielding you from your fathers rage the best he could.

“Great! Awesome! Did anyone else know my daughter was dating a psychopath and just decided to keep that information to themselves?”

Everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats, some clearing there throats and others offering you sympathetic glances. Natasha mouthed a ‘sorry’ and Thor seemed to still be beating himself up for letting it slip in the first place.

Loki stepped forward. “Stark, I can assure you-”

“Zip it, Reindeer Games,” he warned and for once, Loki did as he was told. Tony pointed to you as if he were scolding a child.

“You are grounded,” he stated. “No more missions, no more lab privileges, nothing.”

You scoffed. “I'm not a kid!”

“Yes, you are! You're my kid.”

“Dad, will you please just listen to me.” You begged as you stepped towards your father in hopes of reasoning with him. He rose from his seat to meet you.

“No. This,” he gestured between you and Loki. “Ends now. End of discussion.”

You took a step back, feeling as though an arrow had hit you in the chest. Tears were brimming your eyes and you couldn't find it in you to meet anyone's gaze. Seeing how upset you'd become, Loki refused to bite his tongue any longer.

“Stark, with all due respect, I won't allow that. I understand your disdain for me and it's more than warranted but do not take that anger out on Y/N. You have no reason to trust me but I can assure you that my feelings towards your daughter and nothing but sincere and genuine.”

Loki's sudden statement seemed to have surprised Tony. He opened his mouth to argue but Loki didn't give him the chance as he continued.

“She has given me a second chance and I love her dearly for doing so. And I would never do anything to harm her. I love her unconditionally and all I ask is for a chance. Allow me to prove myself.”

Loki's speech had left you teary-eyed with a warmth spreading in your chest. A smile pulled at your lips as Loki turned to you. The genuine and loving look in his eyes spoke volumes and it took every ounce of control you possessed not to launch yourself into his arms then and there.

“Tony, I don't know about you but that seemed pretty convincing to me.” Nat voiced from the table and Thor immediately agreed.

“My brother may be the god of lies but he has spoken nothing but the truth tonight.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, offered Tony an encouraging nod. “All he's asking for is a chance, Tony.”

“It's pretty sweet if you ask me,” Bucky murmured from beside the captain, Sam and Wanda nodding in agreement.

Tony watched as the table seemed to take Loki's side and he battled with himself until his eyes landed on you. You were standing side by side with Loki, whilst he smiled at you in adoration. The glances you shared were nothing short of loving and Tony couldn't help but notice how genuine and mutual it truly was. Loki's hand was brushing against yours, desperate to grasp hold and comfort you but not wanting to overstep the line the tension had drawn.

Tony sighed as he realized what he had to do. You were his daughter, his everything. And he just wanted you to be happy. Even if it was with someone he didn’t initially approve of. 

“You love him?” he asked nonchalantly and you nodded.

“And you, Frosty,” Tony motioned to Loki who tried not to frown at the nickname. “You love her?”

Loki glanced at you, smiling softly. “Wholeheartedly.”

Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat as he watched the both of you, not completely ready to accept that you weren't a kid anymore.

“Well then, I guess that's that.” He smiled at you softly. “Leave it to you to fall for the God of mischief. You always were a troublemaker.” 

Your father pulled you into a hug, muttering a quiet ‘love you, sweet pea’, before pulling back to look at Loki.

“You hurt her,” he started and Loki cut him off with an amused chuckle.

“You'll kill me?” He guessed.

“Oh no, not just me. They'll kill you.” Tony smirked, pointing to the table full of avengers.

Loki nodded. “Understood.”

Nat sent you a wink and Steve and Thor smiled whilst the rest of the team seemed to congratulate you with supportive, and in some cases embarrassing, comments.

You and Loki smirked at each other, slowly turning to leave the dining room when your father's voice called you back.

“Woah, where do you two think you're going?” he asked. “Cats out of the bag now so no need to run off and hide. Sit.”

Seeing no point in arguing, you both took your seats, Loki holding your hand atop the table for everyone to see. Things quickly settled back into a comfortable conversation, you and Loki feeling freer than you had in months. The domesticity of it all was enough to make your heart burst.

“So,” Clint, who was slightly tipsy at this point, yelled. “When's the wedding?”

Tony turned red. “Don't push their luck, Barton.” He partially joked, glaring daggers at his teammate as the rest of the team laughed. As for you and Loki, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility.

tag list: @leftperfectionmoon @doozywoozy @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove​ @Kealohilani-tepise

[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

[dreamsfreckles]

[7:21p.m.] A Couple of Whipped Besties, One Could Say...

~

Sapnap x reader

Fluff

A couple of sus betsies - enjoy!

~

Sapnap smiled proudly at the beautiful view in front of him: you sitting in his gaming chair, beating the shit out of George on a minecraft PVP server.

Naturally, as Sapnap’s best friend, today marked your third night sleeping over at his house, the usual.

You two simply couldn’t get sick of each other.

Sure, he was annoying and relentless sometimes, and maybe you were a bit stubborn and moody; but regardless, both of your personalities clashed and complimented each other perfectly - creating a close friendship. 

Even though your friendship was his most precious treasure, Sapnap couldn’t help but be dissatisfied with it. 

Not because he wasn’t happy with you... but because he wasn’t happy with you. 

incase you need further elaboration:

Sapnap done went and caught feelings for you. (no earnings)

Leaning over your left shoulder as you gamed, Sapnap side-eyed your facial expressions as you passionately played on the computer monitor in front of you, flexing your weirdly amazing skill at PVP.

He admired you; you looked cute while concentrated. Critting George’s player with your diamond axe was Sapnap’s favorite sight to see. Your eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit and your eyes shined as you attempted to predict George’s next move. 

Not to mention you were also hot as fuck. Sapnap didn’t need to admit that though...

Not only were you his cute best friend, but you were also a super skilled player. He seemed to get the best of both worlds when it came to you.

You can be risky, fun, daring and stupid, but at the same time smart, soft, sweet, and safe. It’s rare to have someone as unique and different as you. You were irreplaceable. 

It also just makes things 1000x better when you’re the reason George regrets his entire PVP career.

Sapnap leaned back into his spare chair, laughing in disbelief at you mercilessly owning George in the game. He could hear George’s screams of absolute terror leaking from the headset on your head; his headset. (dollar tree)

Goddamn he’s whipped. (what a shrimp)

The headphones were a little big on you, which added to the cuteness. Sapnap secretly peered at you love-sickly, sighing in content. It was rare for him to be completely in a haze by you simply doing nothing; for some reason you had him completely under your control today.

Your sudden yell broke Sapnap from his trance and brought his attention to the monitor showing the signature “victory” screen. You squealed hopping up from your chair and doing a small victory dance, laughing at George as he wallowed in defeat. You turn to Sapnap, a wide smile on your face. “Were you watching that? George is SHIT!” You laughed. Sapnap shook his head in disbelief. “Have you been practicing? I have to get you to duel Dream... I doubt you could beat him though. Gogy is just trash.” You giggled with Sapnap at his open criticism towards George, while the trash PVP player on the call scoffed and mumbled incoherent curse words. (ignoring the fact Sapnap lowkey called you trash)

“Well,” you start, relaxing back into his gaming chair. “I’m kind of hungry now. Do you want to go get Chick-fil-a or something?” Just before Sapnap could respond, he was rudely interrupted by George screaming on his headset. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET CHICK-FIL-A?!” The headphones rung. “Are you trying to get cancelled Sapnap?” George joked, making literally no one laugh. You glanced at Sapnap in amusement. His face is twisted in playful annoyance as he ends the call with George. “I guess George is right... Don’t want our precious Sappy getting cancelled.” Sapnap scoffs and rolls his eyes at you playing along with George, a smile on his face. You smirk evilly, standing up to walk across his room to grab your purse. “Whelp, looks like you gotta get your own fast food.” You sling your purse over your shoulder and start heading towards his bedroom door.

Sapnap’s eyes widen at your statement. There’s no way he’s letting you go along with George’s stupid-ass joke.

Before you could leave, Sapnap scrambled to wedge himself between you and his door, stopping you from exiting the room. “Um? You’re dog water if you think you’re pulling that bullshit on me?” He sasses, backing you away from his door.

You hold in your laugh and shrug, putting up a serious face. “We should probably have a break from each other anyway... Why don’t you go out and get McDonald’s instead? I’ll be back in like,” you check your phone for affect. “Like 45 minutes.” You state, looking back up to his pretty eyes filled with betrayal.

Sapnap is frozen. He didn’t think that this Chick-fil-a joke would actually be taken some-what seriously. You wanted time away from him? What the fuck? You two have always been clingy to each other! You can barely go to his fucking kitchen by yourself! 

He took a second longer looking into your shining eyes. Then it all clicked.

You little rat. How cruel are you to be playing with his little heart like that?

Sapnap could turn this situation around in a few different ways.

1.) He could call out your cap right now and you two would go out and get your chick-fil-a, or whatever you want to eat.

2.) He could football tackle you to the fucking ground and make you apologize for saying such buffoonery.

3.) He could go along with your cruel joke, and make you think that he 100% agrees that you two “need to take a break.” He can even go as far as calling it a night and telling you that he’s too tired for another sleepover night.

Sapnap was never the merciful type. As much as he is unconditionally in love with you, he don’t play. 

Option 3 was game.

Sapnap looked up and to the side, pretending to think about your suggestion of “taking a break” like it was a valid choice. Stepping away from his place in between you and the door, Sapnap motions for you to go. “You know what, you’re kinda right. You can go ahead, I think I’m going to call someone.” Sapnap whips out his phone from his back jean pocket and turns away from you, pretending to scroll through his contacts.

This makes you stumble for a second. Did he just... agree with you..? Your heart stops beating for a split second and you debate if you should tell him that you were joking or not. You can barely go to the kitchen by yourself, why isn’t he catching on that it was a joke? You stand still there, looking at his turned back. “Okay... I’m just going to go then.” You say, still not making a move to leave. After a moment of him not acknowledging a word you just said, you start again. “Do you like...” you pause. “want me to bring you back something...” Sapnap turns back to you at that, suddenly deciding to pay attention to you. “Uh no thanks, I’ll just eat something here. You should probably call your mom, she probably wants you home. You’ve been here for what-” he checks his phone for the date. “Like 4 days?” He states, looking back up to you.

Your mouth drops. Hurt fills you heart. Did he really just say that?

Yeah... you have been at his house for a while... but you didn’t think that he was getting sick of you. You usually stayed over there for 4 nights on average before you went home.

You’ve stayed there for 6 days before! And you both STILL mourned the loss of each other’s presence when you left!

(Isn’t this simp culture?)

What does this mean? You stand there is silence just looking at him. It’s not like you could argue; you were the one who said you needed a break first.

You felt like crying. Yes... Sapnap is your best friend and this literally isn’t that big of a deal, but... you love Sapnap. You’d spend forever with him if you could. And you thought he would too. You stiffen for a moment. You know he isn’t your boyfriend; as much as you wish he was, you need to stop acting like he is. 

Him saying he wants to be alone shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you! You guys are friends! He’s standing there, looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to go on, do anything.

While you stand there debating your life choices with hurt written all over your face, Sapnap’s mind is racing a million miles an hour. He literally can’t decide if he should burst out laughing from how well his plan worked or hug you and say sorry for being so mean.

He literally can’t decide - so he does both.

Just as you feel your eyes getting the tinniest bit glassy, Sapnap roars with laughter and pulls you into a bear hug, squeezing your waist with one arm and using the other to pet your hair fondly. “I’m so sorry, I had to, it was too good, that literally couldn’t have gone better-” he rambles. You immediately sulk and smack his shoulder, aggressively hugging him back. “YOU ASSHOLE I GOT SO SCARED!” You groan in embarrassment. You literally almost cried.

Sapnap giggles and hugs you tighter, his smile couldn’t possibly get wider. You sigh in relief, snuggling into his arms. “You actually scared me so bad. That was so weird.” Sapnap laughs again, leaning back from you slightly to get a look at your pretty face. You were pouting. Cute. Sapnap smirked and squeezed your cheek with the hand that was previously petting your semi-tangled hair. “You did it to me first you dimwit, what the hell did you think I felt like?!” He exclaimed. “You literally told me to go home you asshole!” You exasperated. Sapnap threw his head back laughing, pulling you back towards him again. He nuzzled into the side of your neck, sighing happily.

As hilarious as it was watching you go through the 5 stages of grief over this situation, it was also heart breaking all at the same time. He hopes he never has to see that again on a serious note, if he’s being honest. If you ever looked like that when you guys were being legit - it would quite literally kill him.

After what felt like 20 minutes of hugging, you pulled back from the hug and looked up at Sapnap, his arms still attached to the ends of your sweatshirt, keeping you in place. 

As he stared down at your pink cheeks and flustered expression, he felt like he could stand with you here for hours. He wishes he could kiss you.

You rolled your eyes at him as he giggled. “Whatever.” You state, walking out of his hold and over to his bed side table. Sapnap watches your movements in confusion. Once at the table, you open the top drawer and snatch his wallet from inside, your back facing him. “I’m getting fucking Chick-fil-a and if you don’t come, I’m literally going to buy the entire menu with this.” You turn facing him and hold up his wallet. Sapnap’s eyes widen in realization at what’s in your possession. He makes a move to run over to you and snatch it back. Unluckily for him, you were already bolting out the door and to his car.

Hello 🥺

I hope u enjoyed sorry it took so long hehee

I’ve had lack of motivation, as we all in this tough pandemic - I hope you guys are all doing well and stay happy and safe 💕

Thankfully we have our fav mcyt gang to help us through tough times :)

Ik sapnap says fuck you, but think of it in an endearing way LOL LOVE U GUYS

[tahitianmangoes]

Beg Me -Morbell

Pairing: Micah x Arthur  Summary:  Arthur knew there was only one way he was getting out of this cellar... Tags/triggers:Smut Word Count: 2122

Also on Ao3

Micah had only seen Dutch lose his cool twice before. The first time was in Blackwater and even then Micah wasn’t quite sure what had happened but the McCourt girl had ended up dead. The second time was tonight when Arthur hadn’t returned to camp when he should have.

Dutch had snapped at almost everyone in camp, demanding they found Arthur and found him quick if they wanted to keep their balls. 

They split up - Charles and John, Lenny and Sean, Bill and Javier and Micah alone. He didn’t mind going alone, he worked better that way. 

It didn’t take him long to pick up a trail and track Arthur down to what looked like a run down farm. Micah wasted no time dealing with the residents then called out for Arthur.

“Morgan? You here?” “I’m down here!”

Arthur’s voice floated up to him from a cellar that ran beneath the house that was entered by exterior doors. Micah descended the stairs into the small room which was dimly lit by a few scattered candles to see Arthur Morgan tied to a supporting column in the centre of the room. 

Arthur wore only his undergarments, form fitting long johns but his broad chest was bare. He looked like he had been beaten pretty badly, face bruised and lip bloodied. 

Dutch sent them on some search party like he was a lost little lamb and oh didn’t he look so innocent tied up like this?

“Mmm,” Micah purred, “well look at you, ain't you as pretty as a picture?” “Micah? Get me outta here!” Arthur called to him. “Hello old friend,” Micah said with a sneer, “had a good time did you?” Arthur’s head jerked up, recognising the words he had spoken to Micah when he had been incarcerated in the Strawberry jail. “Micah, this ain’t funny.” Arthur said warningly. “Oh I ain’t jokin’, cowpoke… Maybe not funny, no. Maybe a little ironic, I’m sure you would agree?”

Micah leaned back against the damp wall of the cellar and struck a match off of his boot, lighting a cigarette. He drank in the image of Arthur before him, had never had the chance to appreciate how fine his body was; statuesque in beauty, tender skin pulled taut over palpable muscles.

“Untie me now, Micah or I swear you’ll regret it!” Arthur growled, pulling at his restraints with futility.  “I might.” Micah replied as he exhaled smoke, a hint of a dark smirk teasing his lips, “But I want you to beg, Morgan.”  Arthur spluttered, “I ain’t beggin’ you for shit!” “That’s a shame. Marston and Smith went lookin’ elsewhere for ya, pretty sure Williamson and Escuella will be back at camp by now and Summer and Maguire, well, they couldn’t find a whore in a whorehouse… It’s jus’ me here. I’ll tell ‘em I turned the place over but there weren’t no sign of ya.” “You bastard!” Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, straining again. Micah chuckled. “I know.”

Micah smoked nonchalantly, exhaling deliberately as to cast a fog between the pair of them but he could still see the anguish on Arthur’s face while he weighed up the pros and cons of Micah’s proposition. 

“Fine.” He said eventually, “what do you want me to do?” Micah’s ice blue eyes flashed “Beg me.”

Arthur’s expression was mean, his sparkling blue-green eyes were narrowed and full of rage. “Please, untie me.” Arthur said bluntly. Micah’s chuckle bordered on maniacal, “that ain’t beggin’ Morgan. Beg doggy, beg!” “Screw you!” Arthur spat. Micah sighed and stubbed his cigarette out on the wall. “As you wish. I’ll tell ‘em I couldn’t find ya. I’m sure some hungry coyotes will get to you before anyone thinks to come lookin’ for you here.”

Micah turned to leave, ascending the steps of the cellar until he heard Arthur call out behind him. “Ok! Ok!” Micah didn’t turn around right away, he grinned to himself. He knew Arthur would do it. “Micah! Don’t leave me here! I’ll do whatever you want!” He turned slowly, savouring the expression of desperation etched on the younger outlaw’s pretty face. “You gonna play nice, Morgan?” “Yes.” “Good.”

Micah walked back to him smugly and stopped directly in front of him, eyes peering out beneath the brim of his cream hat, eating him up greedily as he licked his lips. 

“Untie me.” “You’re forgetting the magic word, Morgan.” “Untie me, please Micah.” “Now now, Arthur. That don't sound at all sincere to me." Micah said with a hint of mirth in his tone that didn’t go unmissed by Arthur.  Arthur rumbled. "Get me out of these goddamned ropes Micah or I swear I'll rip your throat out!" "Ah, ah, ah. That ain't nice now, is it? Thought you said you was gonna be a good boy for me, Arthur." 

Arthur swallowed hard, swallowing his pride. His cheeks burned scarlet as he said, "please Micah. I'm begging you. Untie me and get me outta here!"

Micah put his head to one side, as if contemplating for a moment. But he wasn't. He'd thought about this before…  Many times before. Arthur at his mercy. When would an opportunity like this come about again?

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." "But I did what you wanted..!" Micah hummed thoughtfully. "You know, you ain't always been nice to me, Morgan. And I tried, I did, always tried my hardest to be nice to you." "What are you getting at?" Arthur asked suspiciously, shifting his weight as he stood uncomfortably. "Maybe it's time for you to be nice to me, Morgan." Arthur's bright eyes widened, as if he suddenly now understood what Micah wanted from him. Micah reached out and touched Arthur's cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle but the look on his face was devilish.

"On your knees, sweetheart."

Arthur made a strangled sound, somewhere between a curse and a laugh of disbelief as if hoping that this was one of Micah’s sick, twisted jokes. And maybe to a degree it was. But when Micah’s face didn’t change, Arthur knew there was only one way he was getting out of this cellar.

He had no choice but to sink down to the cold stone floor before Micah. 

Micah was hard already, had felt the bulge growing in his pants when he knew he had Arthur with his back against a wall. It was confusing, for sure. When he had first joined the gang he had thought that he and Arthur were similar - both sharp shooters, both men who provided and knew how to get a job done. Yet Arthur had a chip on his shoulder, a real big chip that Micah wanted to knock off. 

Arthur was a pompous ass in a way. Self righteous. Pig-headed. Maybe even dumber than he looked. They say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Micah didn’t know about that but he knew that for some reason, he kept being pulled back to Arthur - drawn to him so magnetically. He didn’t know what it meant but he knew it made him hard.

He wasted little time kneading his cock through his pants before unbuttoning and pulling it out. It was average, no bigger or smaller, thinner or girthier than anyone else’s but it got the job done. Right now, the skin was reddened and precum glistened at the slit.

Arthur wrinkled his nose instinctively, drawing away. 

“Come on now, Morgan. You said you’d do whatever I wanted and this is what I want from you.”

Arthur wet his lips before slowly taking Micah’s length into his mouth. Micah watched, a lazy smirk on his lips, at how Arthur had to adjust before he could comfortably begin to suck. There was nothing sensual or sexy about it from Arthur, he sucked as if it was a job that needed doing. 

Micah closed his eyes regardless, he was going to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He savoured the warmth of Arthur’s mouth, the flat of his tongue on the underside of his dick and the gentle scrape of his teeth on Micah’s oh-so-sensitive skin. The sound of Arthur slurping and gagging sent shivers shooting down Micah’s spine and right the length of his cock.  

“There’s a good boy,” Micah purred. He laced his fingers in Arthur’s golden hair and pushed, forcing Arthur to take him deeper and deeper until he could feel the back of Arthur’s throat. Arthur let out a muffled cry and he bucked against the ropes that bound him but Micah kept his head steady until felt Arthur’s jaw relax as he figured how to breathe from his nose instead of his mouth. 

Micah thrust experimentally, keeping a firm hold of Arthur’s hair in his fist to prevent him from pulling away. He heard Arthur choke but didn’t let him come up for air. For the first time since Micah met him, he was able to silence him. 

He fucked Arthur’s face, the noises were obscene: squelching, gagging and gasping. Micah groaned at how easily Arthur seemed to take him despite the fight he put up, as if he had done this before... Arthur moaned too though Micah wasn’t sure if it was through pleasure.

When Micah looked down, he cursed. Drool pooled at the sides of Arthur’s mouth, dripping down the sides of his face. His sucking had turned sloppier and wet. Arthur had tears streaming from the corners of his glassy eyes and his face was flushed.

He looked up at Micah pleadingly.

Micah pulled out and Arthur gasped and panted. His restraints stopped him from falling forward but Micah could see he was tired. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. 

Micah took his hunting knife from his belt and finally cut Arthur loose. Arthur moaned softly as his arms were freed; Micah could see where the ropes had cut into him. 

Artur gazed up at Micah, seeming dazed. The smirk returned to Micah’s lips, now noticing Arthur’s straining erection leaking through the material of his undergarments.

Micah stroked his cock lazily, looking down at Arthur, “what’s wrong? You want more, doggy?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t say no. Was he enjoying this too?

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” Micah breathed, thumb tracing Arthur’s lips that glistened with saliva and Micah’s juices. 

“...Please Micah…” Arthur whimpered. 

He didn’t need Arthur to beg this time. Before he could consider what he was doing, he was on his knees behind Arthur, wrenching Arthur’s long johns down to reveal his ample behind. Micah let out a low growl, pulling Arthur’s ass cheeks apart and spitting directly onto his hole. Arthur shivered at the sensation of the saliva rolling down to his thighs. 

Micah traced Arthur’s entrance with the tip of his cock lightly, feeling how it resisted him  before pressing in properly. 

Both of them moaned this time, Micah sighed Arthur’s name at the feel of Arthur’s passage eating him up hungrily. His heat was intoxicating, he squeezed around Micah’s cock almost encouragingly. 

Micah began to move. The friction sent sparks of pleasure up and down Micah’s shaft, made the heat in the pit of his stomach start to rise and he fucked faster, pounding into Arthur, the skin of his pale ass starting to redden. 

Micah knew he wouldn’t last much longer but having Arthur on his hands and knees before him, gasping at each snap of his hips, biting back his moans and burying his head in his arms, ass up as if willing Micah to do what he wanted with him was the most erotic thing Micah had ever experienced. 

Micah saw Arthur stroking himself, felt him trembling with impending release, he contracted around Micah so tightly it made Micah’s hips stutter.

“Fuck Morgan, fuck!” Micah spat as he released, fingers digging into Arthur’s hips as to keep him in place so he could spill himself inside. 

He rested his forehead on the small of Arthur’s back, feeling him release too, the trembling coming to a crescendo and his legs shaking before he went limp beneath him. They stayed like that for a few moments. The sound of blood pumping in Micah’s ears was replaced with the evening outside.

Micah pulled out once he softened completely and got to his feet, buttoning his pants back up. Arthur stood too, albeit shakily, his skin still flushed and slicked with sweat and his own spend on his stomach. He found his clothes and satchel across the room and redressed sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to no one.” Arthur muttered before he made his way out of the cellar.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

[exhaustedfander]

Goddamn These Bite Marks, Deep in My Arteries

word count: 2,828

a03 link

Vampire!Logan in Analogical is something I’m so weak for, thusly, this oneshot exists. 

Virgil paces the floor, anxiety clouding every jumbled thought.  He’s been working himself up for weeks now, trying to find the best moment to brooch the subject. There were so many moments where things almost felt perfect, but then his nerves would kick in, or Logan would say something to completely change the subject.

Eventually, Virgil comes to the uncomfortable conclusion that no matter how much he wishes it worked otherwise they’ll never be a perfect time to say it. He’s just going to have to bite the bullet and spit it out. He can do that. Of course, he can do that…, right?

He has to do this, regardless of how terrified he is. And good lord, is he terrified.

It’s not as though Virgil thought this subject would never need to come up but dating a vampire doesn’t exactly come with an instruction pamphlet. He had no idea that he was going to meet Logan, like him more than he’s ever liked another person, and eventually fall so deeply in love that he can’t imagine himself with anyone else.

He’d gone into their relationship five years ago with very few expectations. Logan was cute, and he understood him, and they’d already been friends for some time and… and he was a vampire. Virgil supposes that would’ve been a deal-breaker for most people. Maybe it should’ve been for him too. Maybe it was the most logical way of thinking. But he couldn’t help it; he fell for Logan almost from the start, and he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Virgil’s learned a lot about vampirism in the last five years. For one thing, movies are usually a bunch of bullshit (Sexy, fun bullshit. But bullshit, nonetheless). Vampires don’t always have to drink human blood, though it is preferable, and they can eat some other foods, though it offers far less nutritional value than it would for humans. They aren’t strictly nocturnal, and the sunlight will not turn them to a pile of ashes the moment it makes contact with their skin (although Logan does get a wicked sunburn if he’s out too long without proper covering). Garlic does very little to ward off vampires, but garlic-breath does, unfortunately, ward off kisses.

Having one’s blood sucked isn’t nearly as painful as it’s often portrayed, nor as orgasmic. It’s just kind of… nice. Virgil’s always thought of it as a feeling of weightlessness, a kind of peace that’s hard to name, and even harder to find anyplace else. Honestly, he’s going to miss the feeling, if Logan agrees, that is.  

Logan isn’t home yet, but it isn’t uncommon for him to stay late at the lab. Virgil’s glad that Logan’s been able to find a profession that he’s happy in. He knows that Logan would be far more known in his field, were it not for the fact that he cannot stay forever. Vampires do not live forever, contrary to popular belief, but they do live for a very long time, and it looks quite suspicious if one works a job for decades and never really seems to age. Logan’s only been alive for about twenty more years than Virgil has, but he’s had several other jobs under other last names in the past, and this is by far the one he’s enjoyed the most.

His boyfriend is such a smart, competent scientist and he’s sure he’d be world-famous by now if he didn’t hold himself back at times in fear of his name and face becoming known. That would make running away and changing one’s identity all the more difficult.

Virgil knows this conversation won’t be an easy one. Logan has pointedly avoided the topic for some time. It’s not as though Virgil doesn’t know that this is a life-altering decision; or more of a life-ending decision, depending on how you look at it. He’s weighed the pros and cons time and time again, but in the end, he always comes to the same conclusion: Virgil wants this.

His determination doesn’t make him any less nervous when he hears the door to their apartment open as Logan unlocks it, his heart leaping in his chest.

“Hey. Sorry, I know I stayed late,” Logan says as he slips off his shoes and jacket, his voice thick with exhaustion, “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“It’s okay. Sorry you had a shitty day,” Virgil says, walking to the doorway and pulling him in for a kiss, but pulling away after a lack of response, “Hey, are you good?”

Logan doesn’t look good. His skin is always quite pale (a stereotype that holds up, but he also works in a lab most of the day), but it’s even more so now. The always-present bags under his eyes are far more severe than usual, rivaling the eye-shadow Virgil wears. Logan looks dead-tired, and god, that won’t do, will it?

“I’m…” Logan sways slightly where he stands, up-righted by Virgil, “…fine.”

“Bullshit,” Virgil says, eyeing him carefully, “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

“I’m – it hasn’t been too long,” Logan says, lying rather poorly, “Really, I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Alright. C’mere, you,” Virgil says assertively, grabbing Logan by the wrist and bringing him to the couch.

“Virgil, darling, this isn’t necessary. Besides, I’ve got a bit of research to do for…” Logan trails off, seeing the look of agitation on his boyfriend’s face.

“Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not bringing work home, and, you’re not skipping another meal. God, I haven’t even been paying attention lately; you’ve just been so busy lately. When was the last time you ate?”

“I…”

“Babe. This is serious. You need to tell me when you need something. And right now, you need to eat,” Virgil said, slipping off his hoodie and pulling at the collar of his T-shirt. “You look like you’re starving, L.”

“Virgil. We don’t need to do this right now. I just came home, I’m perfectly content with simply spending the evening with you. I promise I’ll be fine. There’s no need to fuss.”

“There’s a perfectly good reason to fuss,” Virgil huffs out, “You’re being so fucking stubborn for no reason. Besides, there’s... well, there’s kind of something I want to talk to you about.” Logan raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“Is anything the matter?” Logan asks, trying, and failing, to mask the quickly formed concern.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Virgil swears, “Now, c’mon, the quicker you sink your fangs in, the quicker I can satiate your curiosity.”

Logan sighs, defeated, but tired and very hungry.

“Fine.”

He gets up from the couch, going into the bathroom, and coming out with a first aid kit. Virgil’s always insisted that it’s okay and that he doesn’t need to go to all the trouble. For the most part, the bites stop bleeding almost immediately after he’s done feeding, but Logan has none of it.

“You’re the one who’s taking care of me. Please. Let me take care of you, too.”

It’s little rituals like this, pressing a bandage and a kiss to the wound when he’s finished that keeps Logan from feeling like a monster. That’s what he confessed to Virgil one night, years ago. That he felt like a monster sometimes.

Virgil’s always been clear to dispute this. Logan’s never killed, anyone. He’s never been unnecessarily cruel to anyone, and he’s always, always been so good to Virgil. His need to feed is not that of a monster, and Virgil’s assured him as much anytime he felt otherwise.

But that can’t stop doubt from creeping in, and Virgil understands that. So he lets Logan do things at his pace for the most part, and he lets him take care of him to his heart’s content (Virgil truly isn’t complaining about that. It’s nice, how eager Logan is to care for him).

“Are you alright? Are you comfortable?” Logan asks, just as he always does.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” Virgil assures. Logan nods, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s starving, Virgil knows he is. “Go on, baby. It’s okay.”

Logan nods, first kissing Virgil vehemently.

“I love you,” Logan whispers reverently against Virgil’s lips, his fangs brushing just so.

“I love you too.”

Logan pulls away, his eyes meeting Virgil’s, and ah, there it is. His boyfriend’s eyes turn from their usual-blue to a striking crimson, the change in color happening in a manner of seconds, like watching a drop of blood cloud a glass of water. It isn’t hypnotism, per se. Virgil isn’t under Logan’s ever-command, but his gaze certainly sends a sense of calm washing over him. Logan cups Virgil’s face for a moment, still looking at him intensely and lovingly all at once before he presses his lips to Virgil’s neck and sinks his fangs in.

The initial pinprick of pain has always made Virgil shudder a little, even now, but he’s far more prepared for it than he had been in the past. Quickly, though, the pain subsides to something stranger, more far-off. His back presses into the couch as Logan has a hand on either side of his neck, sucking and lapping the blood, Virgil lingering in the bliss.

When he’s finished, Logan removes his fangs, mouth only slightly bloodied.

“Thank you,” he says, whipping his lip and quickly reaching for the first aid kit on the coffee table.

“You’re welcome, Lo,” Virgil says, still a little lost in the feeling. He smiles faintly as a bandage is pressed to his neck. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Logan says, his exhaustion seeming to have faded significantly. “I dare say you were right, I needed that more than I was aware. How about you? Are you alright, my love?” Virgil can’t help but smile dopily at that.

“I’m fine. Great. I love it when you call me that, you know that?” Logan chuckles, his eyes back to their normal blue, and fangs having receded.

“I do. Now, let me go get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil says, only slightly light-headed, “I already had dinner.” Logan’s already on his feet.

“Now, I’ll have none of that,” he tuts, sounding as insistent as Virgil had moments prior, “You just gave blood – so to speak. It’s important to rehydrate and eat something rich in sugar to replenish your red blood cells.” Logan’s rummaging in the cupboard, looking for a snack.

It’s now or never, Virgil thinks to himself suddenly, realizing that if he doesn’t say something right this minute, he’s going to chicken out for the night and have to work himself up again later.

“Hey L?”

“Yes?”

“I…” God, this is harder than it should be! “I want…”

"What would you like? We have crackers, cookies –.”

“I want you to turn to me!” Virgil shudders at the sound of something clattering the floor in the kitchen. He turns around on the sofa, seeing the look of terror in his lover’s eyes.

“Dear Lord, did I take too much blood? Virgil, do you feel faint?” Logan asks, suddenly hovering over him, his eyes scanning over him.

“What? No – no, I’m fine. My head’s super clear. I’m being serious: I want you to turn me.”

“You… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do!” Virgil says, zealousness bubbling with each word. He looks into Logan’s eyes, searching desperately for something, anything, that will further his argument. “Logan. Babe. I love you so, so much. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t see myself stopping anytime soon.” Logan swallows, the sound scared and tight.

“I- I love you, too. Virgil you know I love you, but –.”

“But what? You mean absolutely everything to me, and – and I can’t lose you. I want to keep being with you. Don’t you want to keep being with me?”

Virgil hates how desperate he sounds. A fear suddenly creeps into his mind, one he hadn’t yet considered: what if Logan doesn’t want this. He loves him now, but will he ten years from now? Twenty? A hundred? What if he hasn’t imagined a life with Virgil at all? What if he’s nothing more than a momentary distraction? What if –

A cold hand settles on top of his, their fingers lacing together.

“Yes,” says Logan, his voice tight and quiet, “I want to keep being with you. I adore being with you, dear. And I intend to do so for as long as I’m able.”

“But how long is that?” Virgil asks, the fear holding him in a death-grip, “How long until you need to leave this town and change your name?”

“I –.”

“I want to come with you when you go.”

“Virgil, you know how I feel about this subject.”

“No, I fucking don’t!” Virgil says, voice gaining in volume, hand still intertwined with Logan’s, grip tightening, “Because you never want to talk about it! Any time I’ve brought it up in the past you’ve just brushed it aside. Well, guess what? I’m not letting you do that right now. Why can’t you talk about it? What’re you so scared of?” Logan lets out a sigh, long and filled with frustration.

“Virgil… do you realize what you’re asking of me?” Virgil huffs out a breath, nodding.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you really? Do you understand how much you’d be asking me to take from you? You’re asking me to take your life away.”

“I want you, Logan. That’s all I want.”

“You’d need to go with me when I left town. We’d both need to change our identities often, to change occupations. We couldn’t let people grow suspicious.”

“I know.”

“And we’d both need to,” Logan squeezes his eyes shut, cringing at the word, “…hunt. Be it human or animal, I could not rely on you anymore, and you could not rely on me.”

“I know that too. I’ve already thought this all through, Logan. I mean it.”

“You could live such a different life, Virgil. There are so many possibilities that would disappear the moment I… if you were to regret this, there would be no going back. No reversing it.”

“What’ve you been planning for the future then, Logan. Were you just going to disappear one day?”

“I – well. This was your apartment before it was ours. I was considering –.”

“Leaving me,” Virgil finishes, and goddamn it, there are tears in his eyes.

“Sparing you,” Logan counters, “Of a very long existence with me.”

“Don’t you get it, Lo?” Virgil asks, letting go of Logan’s hand, his eyes landing on the floor. “I’ve thought through all of these variables a hundred times. You’re the best part of my life. Most of your friends are my friends too. And, newsflash, they’re vampires, too. I know that it’s a huge decision, a-and that it’s scary. I know it’s a lot. B-but I’ve never been as sure of something as I am about this. Never.”

Logan frowns, his thumb swiping over Virgil’s falling tears.

“You’re… you’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” It hurts Virgil, how unworthy of this Logan clearly feels. He'll have a lifetime of proving him otherwise, and a long one at that.

“Of course I am,” Virgil sniffles. “I’ve been thinking about it forever I just – I didn’t know how to say it.”

“The thought of having to leave you has haunted me so much these last few years,” Logan admits after a moment of tense quiet, “I didn’t know how I was going to bring myself to do it. And, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ask you to do this. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Virgil says firmly, hope flickering in his chest, “Because I’m asking you.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” Logan takes a shuddery breath, “You’re… you’re sure I’m what you want?”

“More than anything,” Virgil promises, grabbing hold of both of Logan’s hands.

“Okay,” Logan says after a long, agonizing moment. “I’ll give you a few days, to get anything in order that you feel you need to. And it’ll be just a little more time to back out if you so choose to.” Virgil nods quickly.

“I won’t need it, but okay. But, Logan, baby, do you really mean it?”

“If this is what you’re comfortable with, and it’s what you want then… yes. Yes, I want this too.”

Logan suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Virgil, a pair of lips enthusiastically pressed to his.

“I love you, Logan. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Logan says, a weight he wasn’t even aware of suddenly lifted from his shoulders.

The couple basks in the feeling, their shared enthusiasm and fulfilled desires, thinking of a long future together. Logan’s still scared and can’t be sure when or if those fears will ever entirely subside. But he didn’t need to ask this of Virgil; Virgil asked him. They know they can be together, and tonight, that’s more than enough.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

@wishthefish916

@reptilianwithscallions 

@justmeandmygayships

@arodynamic-enby

[cleacourgette]

Secret Santa

Summary:  

“Sometimes he’s at the beach. Maybe he found out its a good place to meditate. I know I do. And whatever it was that upset him, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @faerielleart  Hope you enjoy. I know you like and wanted the fluff stuff. I hope this is cute enough for you. <3 

A cloud of smoke caressed his face, the smell of it wasn’t too bad, but of course his choice would always fall on tea, coffe was much too strong and bitter. Tea, now that was delicate and soothing. But the situation called for him to bring a large cup of strong coffee to his commander. It honestly didn’t take long to get used to her being the commander. It was harder to accept Erwin had died, than Hange being the commander. But she was a lot harder to take care of.  

He left her room last night, with her sitting at the desk, piles of papers and a small warning to go to bed soon, or he would drag her ass across the floor to sit on that cursed bed to rest. He had a feeling the his threat would do close to nothing. It was a habit of hers to ignore all of his requests, no matter how dire the situation may be. Her well beying wasn’t a priority for her. But it was for him.  

The tray was heavy on his numb arms, coffee, bread, butter and jelly, milk a whole lot of things they weren’t used to have daily, was now a constant. The trading and commercialization was fruitful, and all thanks to her. His commander.  

Leaning his weight against the door, he was able to easily open it, she didn’t even bother to actually close it, it was just as he left it yesterday. When he saw her, he wasn’t surprised. Angry obviosly, but not surprised.  

“Ya really enjoy to fucking burn my pacient. Don’t ya?” His voice startled her, making her jump a little in her place. When she turned to look at him, he saw the heavy circles around her eyes, the redness in them, the mess her ponitail became. Her lips were dry and chapped when she opened her mouth with tired smile to say. “Good morning Levi.”  

“No.”Visibly angry, he started. “God damn it Hange, yer gonna hill yerself this way. It aint funny, ya god damn imbecile.” The tray was dropped on the desk, milk and coffe spilling from their respective containers, just enough to soak the bread. Now he made a mess because of her and his patience ran shorter even “This has to end! Ya need to rest and eat like a normal human being!” He was up close to her face, a vein popping out of his forehead, eyebrows digging deep, and she could swear she could hear him snarl.  

The faint smile she tried to wear was slowly fading when he started yelling. Now all she was wearing was a surprised expression with the dark circles even more dark and deep. She sighed, taking her hand to rest on her temple, rubbing it a little. Again, he was so annoying with his constant worry for her, his constant yelling to take a shower, to eat, to not bother so much. How could she not? She was the commander. “I don’t have time for this Lev--”  

“Yer right!” He interrupted. “Ya don’t have time for this, because yer getting yer ass on that bed right now. And I don’t wanna hear ya complain anymore.” He turned around, reaching for her messy bed, touching the sheets. Harsh, yes, he was alreayd harsh, but this was the only way to get to her. It was the only way to make her rest, by forcing her. Good for him, he had no issues in actually be forcefull.  

Her mouth was hanging open, her brows started to sink forrowing, manifesting her frustartiong. This work was important, she was close to something here, something for the well beying of everyone, she really did not have the time for this. Its ridiculous how this became a daily topic between them.

Erwin made her the resposible one for them now, he trusted her. And she only wanted to do her best to fullfil his wish. He couldn’t have died in vain. Sure she needed to rest, but they needed her to be a commander. And Levi just didn’t understand the weight of her responsibility.  

“Get out of my room.” She said in a low voice, but high enough for him to hear. He perked up, kind of amused at her sad attempt to face him on this discussion.  

“We’re not discussing this anymore, Hange. Yer going to rest. Yer a fucking mess right now”  

“I told you to get out of my room, right now” Louder this time. She stood up from her seat, a mask of her angry personality kicking out.  

He chcukled. “D’ya really think I’m--”  

“Get out of my room Levi, its an order!” Finally she yelled. Making it very clear how serious she was. She was his boss after all, she could order him all she wanted, she wasn’t wrong. He is not her father or anything like it, they were just... friends.  

He’s seen that before. The temper tantrum, the uncontrolable rage. He’s seen that side of her more times than he wanted to. But it was never directed to him. It stung right on his heart. Did she really have to say it like that. Na order? Damn, that was rough, it hurt. “...An order? Huh...” He started dragging his feet towards the exit.  He took the tray in his hands, the remaining liquid pouring out, making even more of a mess, dragging himself and the tray after himself, he left, hitting the door on his way out, making her wince in her place.  

The room was incredibly silent when he was gone. And it hit her. What the fuck has she just done? Was she so tired that she ended up letting it get to her making a mess? That was no excuse. Levi was so important, she couldn’t talk to him that way, she knew what he was doing, it was not with bad intentions at all. “Levi!” She hurried out of her room, screaming his name. But he was nowhere to be found. She really had just scared him away, the one person who’s been dealing with her these last years after they lost everyone else.  

The day had gone by and no Levi to be seen. They hand’t had a fight this bad in a while, and now besides feeling tired and overworked, she also felt terrible for pushing him away.  

She dragged her feet around the headquarters and ended up finding herself at the cafeteria. Maybe the smell of freshly baked bread had brought her there. She was hungry after all. In the distance she found Mikasa. Ah, yes, Mikasa could know where Levi was. They have grown closer ever since they found out they were related, sometimes spending time together, trying to figure out what their family was.  

Tapping her shoulder, Hange gave her a smile.  

“Commander?” Mikasa tilted her head, locks of hair falling over her eyes. “Are you okay?” She didn’t realize how rude she was sounding, but Hange looked...well, incredibly tired.  

“Ah...yeah! Don’t worry, just overworking myself. Listen! Have you seen Levi?”  

“Hmm... now that you mention it. No not really, not all day.”  

All day? She really made a mess. She had been so stupid  that he ran away completely. Had he gone back to the city? Perhaps, he’s grown tired of taking care of her and just said it was enough after this.  

“Listen.” Mikasa interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to real life. “Sometimes he’s at the beach. Maybe he found out its a good place to meditate. I know I do. And whatever it was that upset him, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”  

Hange always tried to hide her personality, her real feelings, but it was her fault to wear them on her sleve. It ended up making her the most obvious person for everyone else around her. And Mikasa knew. Probably because she had important people as well. “Yeah...I...thank you. I’ll try to check the beach. “  

With a sweet wave, and a lighter heart, Hnage said goodbye to the girl. When had they grown up so much? Time has gone by so fast, she didn’t even noticed they were all adults now. She didn’t have to walk around in circles and eggshells, they weren’t kids anymore. She couldn’t blame them for being this honest and bright.  

The night had came fast, all the worry and tiredness have worn her out. But if she could find Levi by the end of the day, it had been totally worth it. It was no time lost when it was time for him after all. Her best friend. Hers...  

“Are ya fucking following me, ya stinky idiot?” Levi! He was really at the beach, but she was so tired she didn’t even notice him when she was walking in. Mikasa was right. The beach.  

“Ah... sorry, I wanted to soak my feet in the water. You know? Catch some slugs and investigate them.” She jokingly said.  

“Gross.” He noted. Shyly, he looked up at her, she was wearing her dumb smile. Visibly tired. She really hadn’t rested all day. What a mess of a woman. He was so drawn to her, so worried. “Thought ya ordered me to leave”  

His words sounded so sad. She didn’t even dare to continue making fun of the situation. “Yeah...I...sorry I didn’t mean it. Levi don’t...please don’t...!” As she tried to reach up for him, she tripped, and he caught her by her shirt. It wasn’t romantic, it was actually silly and funny.  

“Yer so goddamned tired.” Gently he let her down on the soft sand, dropping down with her, sitting, and quickly fixing her shirt. “Why don’t ya just listen to me.”  

“Sorry.” She grabbed his hands, smiling. “I’m really sorry, Levi. Don’t be angry at me, please?”  

“Tsk. Just listen to me next time.”  

That was his way of saying he forgave her. She promised herself she would be more careful next time. All the time really. There was no one more important. It was just the both of them after all. She smiled, cozily resting her head against him, closing her eyes. “I will!”  

The day ended with just the both of them at the beach. She quickly fell a sleep, and he was content. They needed more time like this, to just enjoy everything around them, and soak it in. Life wasn’t just to fight.  

[nafeary]

Cheating!MC Headcanon with Leonardo Da Vinci

⚬ Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci/Reader

⚬ Characters: Leonardo, Comte; mentions of Arthur and Theo

⚬ Warnings: Intoxication

✧✎ A/N: First and foremost, I DO NOT condone infidelity. It’s vile, revolting, and can absolutely destroy a person’s entire life.

I chose to focus on the prospect of cultural differences they could have, especially considering our very casual dating standards nowadays (a lot of people don’t see sex as a very serious thing, do they?). Thus, MC isn’t cheating per se, but someone from the 16th century (aka Leo) might just perceive it as that.

I got the idea from our lovely @teatimemols, and she allowed me to use it for a headcanon. Thank you sweets (and make sure to drink water, everyone)!

You had kissed him... which wasn’t unexpected, considering the hungry glances you’d often exchange with him

You had embraced him, just as he had enbosomed you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he mumbled how absolutely adorable you were.

And you had smiled at him. That smile, acting as the final culprit in the heist to capture his heart

Unaware of the courting standards you were used to, he determined it would be for the best to simply go with the flow

From what he had picked up from both you and Sebastian, women in your time had finally been allowed the rights they were entitled to (feminism they had called it)

He could only assume that his confident cara mia would sort things out

Which might have been a mistake... as he watched you accompany Arthur and Theodorus on their late night bar trips, only to return late at night with obvious signs of intimate activity, the Renaissance man felt his entire demenour shift

Were kisses in your time meaningless, the amalgamation of breaths unimportant to the heart?

Distance grew between the two of you, and his heart yearned in painful pleas; on the other hand, his muscles contracted at the thought of strangers’ hands working themselves under your skirt, unwrapping your layers

The last straw for him was the golden hair he noticed adorning your garments, the familiar scent of musk he knew ‘Comte’ to favour assaulting his nose when he stood close to you

Unbeknownst to him, you had initially thought of your... engagement with the polymath as nothing more than a fling. And yet, you couldn’t help your heart from falling for his charms, but you were reluctant to open your heart to him. After all, you had your own time to return to. Nothing good could result were you to act on your fantasies.

You were aware of him having discovered you multiple times on your late night escapees with Arthur and Theo, deciding to assay the author’s method of forgetting troubles

Aka, indulging in brothels as a distraction from your heart’s desire to be close to the Italian

And one evening, you committed a rather grave mistake— no, you couldn’t call it that under the booze’s influence. You had, after all, enjoyed the illusion the alcohol has painted

After a particularly busy night, you had returned to the manor alone, drunken stupor rendering you almost incapable of proper action

Le Comte, ever the gentleman, discovered your situation and chose to carry you to your room, assisting you with changing your grimy clothes (and closing his eyes when it required, we stan a respectful man)

Just as he was about to leave, you had caught him by surprise as he conceived Leonardo’s name leaving your lips in a tired mumble, pulling his arm rather roughly to crash your mouth atop his own

He had left after wishing the girl bonne nuit (as she had passed out the moment she had kissed him), smiling at the prospect of... supporting a relationship including two of his favourite friends

Alas, le Comte has an idea that might just aid the coping methods his guest had chosen... and his old friend’s worsening mood

“Cara mia,” the deep voice of your dream’s protagonist resonated outside your door the next morning. “Are you awake? ‘Comte’ told me you you were feeling unwell and asked me to bring you breakfast.”

At the mention of le Comte, your brain had to do a double take; you suddenly remembered the events of the previous night. The host of the mansion had found you in a probably more than likely disgusting state— and you had the nerve to kiss him

In your defense, you thought it was Leonardo; but considering the fact that they’ve been hinting at having been lifelong friends, you weren’t confident that you could bare to face any of them ever again

Nonetheless, you invited him inside

After you were done with your breakfast, you gazed at Leonardo dozing away on your carpet, just about to voice your confusion as to why he was still in your room, when he stood up and said, “I should be honest with you. The main reason I came was because ‘Comte’ told me something rather interesting.”

You could only gulp as he came to stand in front of your bed, kicking of his shoes. “You kissed him, in quite the rowdy manner from what he told me.”

You were remembered of you slip up once again, and you could only mutter in defeat, “I was drunk and confused, Leonardo.”

By now, ants were crawling up your legs as he lay down beside you, tickling your ear as he nuzzled it. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You kiss me, yet you indulge in other mans’ arms.” All tranquility strained from the scientist’s orbs, and you could only lift your eyebrows in annoyance. “You make it sound like I cheated on you. Whoever I spent the night with is none of your concern.”

“So you are allowed to be a constant resident of my mind.” He trapped you with his arms, appearing to me ignorant to your growing exasperation. “Don’t you consider that to be—“

Enough was enough

You strongly pushed at his shoulders, rushing to stand up as you glared at him lying on your bed like a goddamn male Venus

“Leonardo. Please listen to me for a moment.” Seeing him nod, you proceeded. “Yes, I did kiss le Comte. Yes, I was spending the night with strangers. And yes, I did kiss you. However, you have absolutely no right to lecture me on these actions. We aren’t together, you didn’t ask me out, and I can kiss whoever I want to.”

You exuded calm anger with your crossed arms and stern gaze, but his utterly confounded face wavered your resolve... he almost looked like he had no inkling as to why you were so upset with him

Well, at least until realisation fell across his expression the way it was wonted to whenever he figured something out.

“I’m sorry, cara mia,” he said, sitting up in a more dignified position, “I was unaware that these are the type of courting standards you have grown up with.”

Courting... standards...

God are you stupid. You hastily replied with an apology from your own side, embarrassment blazing across your cheeks at the prospect of almost forgetting the fact that you were indeed in the 19th century and talking to Leonardo fucking da Vinci, when courting standards were so much more self explanatory and determined by matchmakers

You sat beside him as you elaborated the procedures you were used to, fiddling your thumbs at the scene: a world renowned artist, your... crush, perched on your bed and listening to you discussing 21st Century Dating for Dummies

The hushed breathing of the man was the only thing occupying the room, and you couldn’t help but hyper focus on the disparity of your own erratic puffs

Perhaps, despite your flakiness, you still had this wish, hidden deep within your mind, that you could still have a chance with Leonardo. And— you couldn’t help but sigh as the reality of it crashed upon you

You two were way too different, after all. Different time, different manners, different everything

“I have another question,” the smoky voice of the polymath whispered, the pleasant scent of cigarillos dancing beneath your nostrils, “How you do you conduct this... asking out, cara mia?”

You whirled around to meet his chiseled face, speechless at his inquiry. Surely, he couldn’t still want to? “Well, you... you ask the person whether they’d like to go on a date with you... and then, if the date went well, you could ask if I’d— that person would like to start a relationship with you.”

“I?” He smirked at your blunder, mirth pulling at his cheeks. “If you wanted to ask me out, you could have just done so earlier.”

Heat waltzed across your cheeks as you tried to stay composed, but you only managed to hang your head in defeat.

“Are you free after your chores today? I’d love to show you an invention I’ve been working on.”

Lifting your head ever so slightly, you muttered, aware if he were to deny your question that you wouldn’t lose any more dignity, “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” And the most beguiling smile encountered your own

I hope this was kind of what you imagined? They were going to be shorter (and including more characters), but I’ve wanted to explain the situation properly, ya know?

Anyway, have a nice day everyone!

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

ok so, now that my opinions have had time to age a while, here’s a SHORT version of my Pacific Rim: Uprising review. 

Was this movie a complete out of control raging dumpster fire with several past-date and poorly-constructed fireworks going off unpredictably and dangerously in random directions, an inferno of stale McDonalds, and a family of raccoons fleeing in terror? Oh yes. Can I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not. 

Did I enjoy it MUCH more than I expected to? Quite a bit, actually? Yes. Yes I did. (The first one-third of it much more than the second-third, and the second-third rather more than the last third.) BUT.

For all its (many, many) faults it did give us these images: 

SRIRACHA MAN 

WAIT! He isn’t done! WINDOW SURPRISE! He’s on the side of your building, with (re)theft in his mind! PARKOUR MAN WINDOW SURPRISE JAKE PENTECOST ok it doesn’t really scan like Actual Cannibal Shia LaBouef but. y’know 

HILARIOUSLY-TIMED HILARIOUSLY-AUDIBLE B O N K 

this expression 

this WHOLE scene with the sprinjkles my man Jake is tired and mildly unhinged and hungry and he wants to eat his goddamn ice cream in PEACE this fughkcin Protagonist Hero Man of a dude is trying to tell him Important Plot Information and he is NOT having it. I love him. Wish they’d shown a bit more of the transition between this facet of his behavior and the more straight-laced version of him later on but, eh. Raging dumpster fire!! ANYWAYS THE GOOD STUFF 

YEAH THIS SHOT OF DR. GOTTLIEB TOSSING BACK A CUP OF COLD TEA LIKE IT’S A SHOT. and the fact that you can TELL he was just about to drink it at The Optimal Temperature, but heard that Newton was onsite and left it there to get cold while he ran out to meet him and do this 

....anyways,,, 

oh yeah this shot, I just like to make fun of this shot c’mon y’all CMON Y’ALL this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen (not you Charlie Day, it’s the composition of the whole thing, what happened) its all needlessly grimdark and indistinct and I GUESS you wanted the focus on Alice’s tank but its NOT the focus because NEWTON’S ENTIRE ASS is FRONT AND CENTER taking up the ENTIRE focus of this shot and OBSCURING the tank, which is the ONLY thing in the room (BESIDES NEWTON’S ASS) that ISN’T super grimdark and impossible to see?? WAS THIS ON PURPOSE? WHAT WERE YOUR THOUGHTS WHEN STAGING THIS?? WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE I’M JUST IN AWE AT HOW UNHINGED THIS IS WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS WHO DID THIS 

oh yeah angry science lady who doesn’t like handshakes and hasn’t got the time for social niceties when she’s too busy trying to save the world, I love her she’s fun, you go ma’am handshakes are gross 

she and my other favorite science person (in this movie where Newton is Badwrong) also stood next to each other a whole Several times and it made my heart happy even as the plot of the movie was breaking down into a million unrelated pieces of radioactive garbage that was on fire 

conclusion: 

don’t watch it, but absolutely listen to me yell about it instead, I did this so you don’t have to, lets watch Pacific Rim (The Original) together instead, I’m not saying that movie is perfect either but boy does it hold itself together better than whatever several different unrelated apocalypses happened HERE 

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (15)

There are a few of you who have changed urls so please do check previous chapters first if you have!! Lucien is back in this, I had thought he had a part like two chapters ago? But going back I might have deleted his scene😬

Warnings: There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed.

Surprises Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

Enjoy a Captain Swan gif because it fits I guess?:)

—————

Everything was white, why the fuck was everything so white?

Azriel felt blinded by being in such a bright room and there was an annoying beeping that he wished would just stop. His whole body ached and he groaned in pain trying to lift his body but then there was a hand gently pushing his shoulder down, and a voice that sounded like goddamn heaven.

“I don’t think so, mister, you keep your butt where it is.” Blinking a few times, he turned his head to the sound of that beautiful voice and saw Elain standing next to him with tears in her eyes. Panic set in at the thought of her being upset and he wanted nothing more than to hold her.

“W-why are you crying baby? What’s wrong?” There was deep laughter from somewhere across the room and a sharp pain shot through his neck with how fast his head moved. Cassian was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, one arm in a sling and he now had on a pair of shorts which exposed a thigh wrapped in bandages. Nesta was on his other side, holding the hand of his good arm, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth.

“You were just in a major car accident, you expect your girl to be all sunshine and roses about it?”

Fuck the car accident. It all rushed back to him at once, the laughing and pestering and then a shout and finally darkness. Cass had shouted about a truck just as Rhys was-“Oh god. Rhys where is Rhys?”

“He’s alright. He was allowed to go home, so we sent him back with Feyre to rest. They’re both on the way back now.”

He finally forced himself to sit up, hating the way Elain’s eyes went wide in fear and so he took her hand and squeezed to let her know it was alright, but as his legs shifted, that’s when he felt it. All of the breaths in his lungs left him in one go, and he knew something bad when all of the eyes in the room watched him, so full of pain. Azriel closed his eyes once more as he gripped hid blankets tightly in a fist before flinging them away from him. All he did was stare and stare at that empty space where his lower left leg should be, before finally reaching for it with a hand, letting out a sound that was foreign to his ears. He vaguely recognised the shuffling of chairs and the click of a door as a small gentle hand covered his own. When he turned back to Elain, her lips were curved in a soft and slightly pained smile, pain for him.

“What happened to my leg Ellie?” He said it as a whisper because that’s all he could manage, scared that if he tried to say it louder, say something more, then he’d break down but he was determined not to look weak in her eyes. Her free hand came up and into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp that felt oh so good and comforting.

“The car overturned from the impact and crushed the front of the car. Rhys and Cass managed to get out and they tried to get to you as well but they couldn’t. Your leg had been crushed for too long, the doctors told your mom that there was nothing they could do, other than remove it.” Her hand in his hair never stopped once and for that he was grateful, because no, matter how hard he tried to stop himself, he broke right then and there in that hospital room.

“How can you still stand there and look at me like that? I’m missing a fucking leg Elain, I’m not me anymore. I won’t be able to do certain things anymore and hell, what the fuck is our little girl going to do when she asks daddy to do something and I can’t do it! I didn’t want this life for us! Now you’re going to be stuck with a cripple and a baby, I won’t put you through that.”

Azriel watched as her face turned from gentle and soothing to angry and hateful in a second, taking her hands off and away from him and stepping back from his bedside.

“Screw you, you fucking asshole. How dare you make up my own mind for me? How dare you think that I wouldn’t love you anymore because of how you look? If you don’t want me anymore then fine, I’ll save you the hassle of trying to end it.” No, no, no. Shit, fuck.

“Ellie...” He tried to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in his throat and so he had to watch as she stormed to the door of his hospital room without even looking back. He’d heard the sound of the door clicking earlier but now, now it was an awful sound and he never wanted to hear it again. It was like a dagger to the heart and he fucking hated himself. The best thing to ever happen to him and he blew it, just like he knew he would. He promised he wouldn’t hurt her again, promised her that he’d try harder, that no matter what he’d stay by her side.

Now all there was to do was sit there and wallow in his own self pity, knowing he’d most likely not be able to win her back this time.

oOoOo

Sitting in that waiting room, Cassian had given his story of the crash to the cops, every last detail that he could think of, everything that might be useful. And then it was Rhys’ turn. Nesta, Feyre and himself sat there and listened, Feyre moving straight to Nesta once he had started. He hadn’t a clue why she looked as worried as she did so until he’d heard Rhys’ story. Even now just as his brother was giving the last few key points, he was still in shock. Weylan Archeron, his girlfriend’s fucking father, was the one that had run them off of the road. Nesta had retreated inside herself when she’d heard it, that blank look taking over her face. It had taken him so long to find her under that prickly exterior and he’d be damned if he let her asshole father destroy how far she had managed to come.

The cops were just shaking hands and thanking them for their help when the door to Azriel’s room opened and Elain came storming out, tears streaming down her cheeks and her hand cradling that wonderful little baby bump. Cassian watched as Nesta’s face went from blank to furious and she made to go either after her sister or into his brother’s room to unleash hell, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “Easy sweetheart, I’ve got this one.”

He stood on shaky legs and limped down the hall that Elain had run down, asking a few nurses if they had seen where she went and ended up outside where the girl was sitting on a wall with her hands covering her face. Her body shook with barely restrained sobs and she jumped when he sat beside her, bringing his hand over to rub her back. “Hey, what are all these tears for Lainy? Az is alright, you saw him.” She scoffed at that and gave a humourless laugh. Looks like his brother might have been an utter fucking idiot.

“He may be alright but according to him, he’s not good enough now. According to him, I couldn’t possibly want him anymore now that he’s like that. He assumed Cass, that I’m that much of a bitch, that I only like him for his looks. He doesn’t want me because ‘I’m stuck with a cripple and a baby. He won’t put me through that.’ What gives him the right to decide my feelings for me?” She was crying again now, hands shaking and he didn’t know what to do or how to help and so he pulled her into a hug. Her head was smushed into his shoulder and he would no doubt be left with tears and snot, but he didn’t care. Elain could do what she liked as long as it made her happy.

“I’ve got you, Lainy. I’m sure he didn’t mean it; he’s probably just in shock is all. And if he did mean it, then I’ll kick his ass, no one hurts my Lainy or my niece. Uncle Cass has got her, both of you.”

After a while the shaking stopped and her tears turned into sniffles and she tilted her head back to look at him. “Thank you.” It was gentle but broken whisper and Cassian hoped to whatever gods that were listening to make his brother see sense.

“How about I phone Lucien for you? You haven’t really been able to see him for a few days and I’m sure he’d like to see you. I’ll ask him to come get you and take you back to the house and the two of you can hang out there. Besides they want Az to stay overnight just to be sure and keep an eye on his leg.” Elain nodded before burying her head back into his shoulder and before he phoned Vanserra, he sent a quick text off to Nesta.

She’s all good, just a bit overwhelmed. I’m going to get Lucien to come get her and take her to the house. Love you.

-Cass

He and Azriel had been handed bad cards in life, ever since they were born but now, now was when everything was good for them. They both had amazing girlfriends who loved them unconditionally, there was a little one about to be added to the family and they were finally, finally happy. Of course one drunken asshole had to come along and possibly ruin everything his brother had ever hoped to have.

oOoOo

Elain was so tired, so goddamn tired that she felt as though she could sleep for a week. She felt utterly drained as she stepped through the door to Lys’ house. The woman had come out to give her one of the spare keys when she’d heard that Elain was leaving, telling her to eat, drink and do whatever she wanted and that if Lucien wanted to stay overnight to keep her company then he was more than welcome to. Lucien was behind her and she just knew his hands were braced in front of him as if he expected her to crash and drop from exhaustion. She had missed her best friend, truly, but with everything that was going on they just hadn’t had the time to hang out.

 “Okay Lainy bear, Cassian said that his mother would like for me to cook you dinner. What do you feel like, and before you say ‘I’m not hungry’, you’re eating for two so this is me putting my foot down.” She rolled her eyes knowing that yes, she would have predictably said that in the past, but she wouldn’t do that to her little girl. That was the first thing he’d actually said other than the few greetings since he’d picked her up, and that didn’t sit too well with her.

“I’m not going to break you know, we can talk, you don’t have to be silent because you’re scared of saying the wrong thing.” He pushed a hand through those beautiful, long red locks- seriously, why does he get such nice hair and she gets a birds nest? –and gave a very loud sigh.

“I was just waiting for you to decide when you actually wanted to talk that’s all. And you’re also making that face, the one where you are so done with everyone’s shit, so how about we have some dinner and then you can sleep. I’ll stay up and get things ready for when the others come back. Yeah?”

Elain nodded and went into the kitchen with him to search for what to cook. They ended up choosing to do a chicken pasta bake with vegetables, something that would be easy to heat up later. It was effortless to move around each other after a few minutes, having done this a ridiculous amount of times before when they spent whole weekends together. Lucien sat there and watched her when they were done, making sure she finished her plate and then glared at her when she tried to clean up. Her best friend then even went as far as trailing her up the stairs, the overbearing mother hen. “I can walk up the stairs by myself.”

“I know you can.” She rolled her eyes but then froze in her place when they got to the top of the stairs. Lucien bumped into her back at the sudden halt in movement. “Ellie? Why have we stopped?”

“Um, I have to sleep in his room.”

“So? He’s your boyfriend and you’ve slept in the same bed before.”

Her eyes closed at the onslaught of words from their argument earlier hit her. “W-we had a bit of a fight at the hospital and now I don’t know what we are. I said I would save him the hassle of breaking up with me and stormed out, basically.” She tipped her head up to the ceiling, holding the tears at bay; she didn’t want to cry anymore, she was so tired of crying.

“Oh Elain, I’m sure it’ll be alright and he definitely wouldn’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable on the couch. You and the baby need sleep in a proper bed.” He was right, of course he was. She nodded and moved towards his room, she hadn’t actually been here since that party, the night that had changed everything. Images flashed through her mind as she opened the door, them laughing at a movie, her head on his shoulder, soft and warm lips, a painful pinching sensation and then pure bliss. Lucien told her he’d be right downstairs if she needed something and kissed her cheek before leaving again. She stripped out of her clothes, smelling of that too clean hospital smell. She debated what to wear to bed before giving in and pulling on one of Azriel’s t-shirts. Her body sank into that wonderfully soft bed, pulling the covers up and over her shoulders before closing her eyes. Everything smelt of him, comforting and just so fucking good, and her breaths turned ragged thinking about how worried she was that the worst had happened to him.

She loved him for the person he was, his caring and happy personality. Yes, he was beautiful and she’d be blind if she couldn’t see it but he was more than just his looks. If he could love her changing body, the stretch marks that were beginning to appear, the stomach that was no longer flat, then why did he think she wouldn’t love him all the same as he was now?

Eventually her exhaustion was too much, her eyes too heavy and she succumbed to sleep, a hand curved around her stomach. She hoped that Cassian’s was right, that Az was just in shock and that come morning, she wouldn’t have lost the person who meant the world to her and had given her something she hadn’t even known she’d wanted.

—————

Oh the pain, the angst how I love hate to give it to you😏 Want to be added/removed from the tags then just let me know:))

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba  @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll  @stars-falling @elain-shadowsinger @verifiefangirl  @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @silver-flames @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @kvi-arts @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @courtofjurdan @junkiejosten10 @mu-si-ca-l @agem10 @harmonyindark245 @slightly-sane-fangirl @tanaquilpriscilla @starrynightsbooks @maastrash @kendarbahr @elriel4life @illyriangarbage @b00kworm @thewayshedreamed

[simsadventures]

Morning Madness

Summary: You’re pregnant with Dean’s baby, and the hormones are getting to you. And both Sam and Dean need to deal with it accordingly.

Warnings: pure fluff, pregnant reader, fluffy and protective Dean, morning sickness, hormonal reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1672 A/N: This short piece was written for my lovely @holylulusworld​ and her followers celebration #lulus4kwritingchallenge, with the prompt being 4. Fix this or I will break your face (the prompt is in bold in the text). I haven’t written Dean for a long time, and this really got me excited. Let me guys know what you think :) xx

Dean Masterlist __ Masterlist

The smell. It was making you shiver all over your body. You honestly couldn’t decide if it was making you nauseous, or if the need to throw up was now something constant in your life, despite what you smelled.

That didn’t change anything on the fact that someone was currently frying eggs, even if you specifically asked them not to until your morning sickness subsides. Just the thought of those eggs scrabbled on the pan sent you flying towards the bathroom, where you spent good 10 minutes trying to calm your stomach down. With no avail. The smell was now embedded in your nose, and every time you took a breath, you could smell.

You would even bet the whole bunker now smelt like those freaking eggs, and despite feeling like complete shit, you were starting to be pissed too. Was it so hard not to eat eggs for two freaking weeks? Were you asking that much? Your blood was boiling while you stood up, checked yourself in a mirror quickly, and strolling towards the kitchen.

Whichever brother was having that breakfast would wish he never woke up that morning. You would make sure of it. And if it was Dean… phew, he would be in it deep. Every morning for the past two weeks, while trying to get to the bathroom in time, you cursed Dean and his great idea to have a child together. It will be fun, he said, we’re gonna be complete and so happy, he said. Bullshit.

When you first found out you were pregnant, you were both over the moon. You couldn’t stop smiling, and Sam joined you in the enthusiasm. He knew how much you two wanted it, and he couldn’t wait to be an uncle. Those were a few very happy, very calm days. Those were, however, long gone, and they were replaced by your mood swings and usual mornings spent bent over a toilet.

Dean tried to calm your stomach few times, but you always swatted his hand away, telling him this was all his fault, that if he kept his member in his pants, you wouldn’t have to feel like a complete shit now. He knew you didn’t mean it that seriously, but didn’t want to try his luck, so he always just kissed the top of your head, and left you to it.

So every single morning, Dean tried to do pretty much anything to get out of your way. He knew you’d calm down eventually, and that he’d be able to touch around 10 or 11 AM, but right after you woke, that was a big no-no.

And just the thought of him trying to piss you off by frying freaking eggs, sent you raging to the kitchen. To your utter surprise, it wasn’t your husband singing silently, and obliviously making himself a breakfast for champions.

“Are you fucking serious?” You yelled a little louder than you intended. Sam obviously dint hear you coming, because he jumped up, gasped so loud you’d actually laugh if you weren’t so damn sick and pissed, and he turned around, confused look all over his face.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you scared the life out of me!” He was holding his chest and still breathing a little too heavily. He smiled up at you, but when he saw the daggers in your eyes, his smile faltered. In that exact moment, Dean walked into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, seeing your pissed of expression, trying to determine what happened this time. When he took a whiff of the air, all questions were answered in his head, and he smirked. He wasn’t the one in the wrong this time, and he was sure as hell about to enjoy it.

You shot Dean a glare just for him so that he wouldn’t think he was out of the woods, just because you were currently angry at Sam. He was still the one to impregnate you, so this whole thing was his fault in your mind.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind, Samuel?” He was still staring at you as if he didn’t know what he did.

“I’m sorry?” He said meekly, offering you a shy smile, still very much unsure why you were so pissed at him. But it didn’t matter, he would apologise and wait for you to cool down. Both he and his brother realised that this was the only way to survive the morning madness.

“Why are you doing this to me, Sam? Do you hate me, or something? I mean I just can’t wrap my head around this.” By the time you finished the questions, you were sniffling, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Damn these hormones, you thought.

“I honestly have no idea what I did, but whatever it was-“ you cut him off. “You’re making yourself these fucking eggs, even though I specifically told you both how sick they made me feel, even if I only smelt them. I almost hurled in my bed this morning because of you.”

The realisation dawned on him, and he made those famous puppy eyes on you, so you would forgive him. “I am so sorry, Y/N. I totally forgot about that, and when I saw the eggs here this morning, I just… I didn’t think, and I’m truly sorry.”

You were still crying and just dismissed Sam, turned around, and all but ran towards your and Dean’s shared room. You knew you were being ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself.

The second Sam heard the door click shut, he huffed. “Man, I really didn’t mean to make her angry, I just… I craved eggs, and I forgot, damn.”

Dean was no longer smirking, he hated seeing you hurt, no matter if it was because a werewolf left a claw in your upper arm, or because Sam made himself breakfast. He was there to protect you no matter what.

“She wanted just one thing from us, man, and you can’t keep even that in mind. Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one of the two of us? Just go, Sam. Fix this or I’ll break your face.”

Sam looked at him, quizzically. “You wanna break my face because your pregnant and hormonal wife is crying?”

Dean was now standing, puffing his chest at Sam. “She might be emotional, but you still made her cry, so go and do something about it, I’m not gonna clean up your mess. Go and apologise Mr Forgetful.”

“Ugh, fine, I’m going, calm down, I can’t deal with both of you being emotional.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and watched Sam leave the kitchen. He knew he’d have to go in, no matter if Sam apologised or not. These hormonal scenes always tired the hell out of you, and you always found comfort in Dean’s arms after them.

Sam knocked softly on your door. You opened them, still crying a little, and he smiled down at you. You were like a little sister to him, and he hated to see you cry, even more, when it was about something he said or did. “Listen, Y/N-“ he truly wanted to apologise, but you didn’t let him.

“No, Sam, I’m sorry. I was overreacting and yelled at you for an idiotic thing! I didn’t mean to, so, I’m sorry.”

Your lower lip trembled again, and a sob ripped through you. “Don’t, Y/N. You’re growing a person in you, you have every right to be emotional and angry, sweetheart. I’m an ass and should remember the one thing you asked of us. It won’t happen again, I promise.”  

He hugged you tightly, and you sobbed into his chest. But your body wouldn’t calm down, because this was the wrong brother. You needed Dean, and you needed him now. You looked up to Sam, who just nodded knowingly, kissed the top of your head, and went to fetch Dean.

He didn’t even say anything, because the second he walked into the kitchen, Dean stood up, patted Sam’s shoulder and rushed towards your room. The sight inside made his heart clench a bit. You were sitting on a bed, your knees under your chin, and you were quietly sobbing.

The moment you saw him, you made a gesture of grabby hands towards him, and he smiled a little. Even full of hormones, your first reaction was to have him by your side, and his heart swelled suddenly. He loved you too much for his own good because he’d do anything you asked, especially at that very moment.

“What do you need, baby girl?” he asked softly, as he neared the bed to tug you in his arms.

“Can you just sit with me here, for a second?” you whispered when you were comfortably seated on Dean’s lap. He kissed your forehead, and you hummed, appreciating the closeness between the two of you.

“I’m a hormonal mess, Dean. Can you love someone like that, screaming at your brother basically for being hungry?”

He laughed a little and kissed you again. “I love you even more for screaming at Sam, baby. And you’re no mess. Nobody gets to talk about my wife like that, not even my wife.”

When you looked up, you could see Dean already staring back at you. And the way his emerald eyes looked you, made all the worries, all the anger and sadness wash away. The love and adoration were written all over his face, and you suddenly felt the urge to kiss him. It took him by surprise, but when he realised what was happening, his arms tightened around your waist, and he kissed you back. You smiled into the kiss, feeling sated and happy for the moment.

Your mornings were mad these days, but one thing you could count on was Dean’s undying love for you, and you knew he’d make the best father for your unborn child. And the fear and nervousness of your upcoming motherhood were washed away. At least till the next morning.

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​

[haloshornsinkstains]

Two Weeks [Obey Me]

Kore and Belphie, post lesson 16 (spoilers if you’re not there yet). 

--

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the incident. Two weeks of the boys fussing over her.   Two weeks of Mammon clinging to her almost 24/7 (not that she could blame him) and sending death glares at the youngest when he dared show his face. Two weeks of outbursts that ended in her yelling that she was not Lilith and could they just STOP. Two weeks of Beel's quiet sadness. Two weeks of nightmares. Two weeks of Belphegor avoiding her like the plague.

It was enough.

It's not that she wasn't scared, the nightmares were proof enough of that. In the midst of all her apologies to Barbatos about being spotted and messing up he'd warned her she would probably never forget this, despite the merge, apologised that the best he could do was offer something to help her sleep, to combat the nightmares. She'd refused. "I don't run from my problems Barbatos." She sighed. "Even when that problem is someone trying to kill me." He sighed, she wasn't wrong. How many of the brothers had tried to kill her now? She offered him a small smile, weak but there. "Can I ask something?" He shook his head. "Lord Diavolo will not let you go back in time again." Kore waved a hand dismissively. "I'd rather not. Just… when you collapsed the realities…" she swallowed hard, staring down into the teacup as if it would give her the answers "promise me they're not all there waiting for me to come home?" He watched her carefully for a few moments, handing her a handkerchief as tears started to roll down her cheeks. "This is the first time I've seen you cry since that night." "Barb… please?" "That reality no longer exists. There is no one waiting for you there because there is no there." "Okay. Thank you." She dabbed her eyes gently. "He looked… they all looked so broken when they thought I was gone. I couldn't do that to them again. Not when they wouldn't know. After I made that terrible joke about haunting them." "You had better run along home now my lady, else Mammon comes after my head." She gave a small strained laugh at that, he knew she didn’t like the formalities, they only came out when she was in trouble or he was trying to distract her. "Thank you Lord Barbatos. And sorry again for all the trouble." He rose, taking her teacup and setting it down on the tray before guiding her to the door. "Don't be, it's a welcome change to be surprised for once." She paused at the door, enfolding him in a gentle hug. 'Full of surprises indeed.' He thought, though he didn't push her away. She gave him that sad smile before she made to leave for real this time. "One last thing Kore." She turned, one eyebrow raised. "My Lord has decided not to punish Belphegor any further." A long exhale. A nod. This time the smile she offered him had more life. "Let's have tea again Barbatos."

It's not that she wasn't angry either. She was furious. She had trusted him, had wanted to help him, she had put her faith in him and he had abused that. Had manipulated her and used her and to top it all off the little shit had killed her. She was almost used to the boys trying to kill her at one point or another, Lucifer had tried twice and been very serious about his intentions. But it had always been part of some loss of control, Leviathan had been so jealous his sin took over, Beel had been hungry and pissed about his custard and Lucifer had been absolutely fuming, both times. Angry in a way that made it abundantly clear where Satan had come come from. But Belphie hadn’t been out of control, maybe he had been angry, but he wasn’t angry at her specifically the way the others had been, he had been utterly fucking delighted when he was killing her. She could almost understand why he might blame humans for Lilith’s death, maybe even stretch towards understanding some of the anger - after all if someone had hurt someone she cared about then… well, it was good no one really had. But this was more than that, this felt like utter betrayal after she risked her life for him. The image of his smile as he killed her flashed through her mind, it was terrifying sure, but more than that, the manipulation and betrayal and being blamed for something that happened hundreds if not thousands of years before she was even thought of pissed. her. off. Everything she had done to try and fix the bonds between the brothers was crumbling around her because one demon had to hold a grudge and she was utterly done with that.

But more than the fear and the anger she was sad. Sad to have been betrayed by someone she thought she was growing to like. Sad to see the hurt and worry on the brothers faces. Sad to have lost the quiet comfortable feeling of home she got from the House of Lamentation after all this time. She felt like she’d apologised a thousand times, for being careless, for getting hurt, for making Mammon so upset, for making all of them so upset and worried. The sadness crept into everything like an infection, dampening the anger and the fear.

So here she was. Scared. Angry. Tired. And still determined to fix this goddamn family. And there was Beel making his sad puppy eyes at her again. ‘ Demons should not be capable of sad puppy eyes’. “Beel?” He startled, flinching away from her slightly, his cheeks flushing when her face fell. “Sorry.” Kore reached out, gently placing her hand on his. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, steeling herself. She had to do this, she worked too hard on repairing their relationships to let one asshole with some truly terrible decision making skills break everything. “Where is he?” He flinched again, even as he tightened her grip on his hand. “Um… the attic I think.” ‘Right. Of course he’s in the attic, no one goes up there. Though I guess whatever spell Lucifer put on it is broken now if he can get up there. ’ Kore nodded. “Okay.” As she stood and turned to leave he caught her wrist in his hand. “Do… do you want me to come?” “I wish I could say I’d be okay but, please? I’d appreciate it.” He nodded, following her up towards the attic.

Belphegor was curled up in a pile of blankets, cuddled into his pillow like she’d found him so many times before. Back when the door was locked and she was trying so desperately to get him out of there. That might not have been this Belphegor, but the memories were the same even if the demon in them wasn’t the one in front of her. Or hadn’t been. Time travel and alternate realities made her head hurt. He stirred as they approached, slowly lifting his head to blink sleepily at them. It took a few seconds, but when he realised she was there he blanched, shifting back like a cornered animal. She wondered if maybe she should be a little pleased, be glad that he was worried, but he had the same damn sad puppy eyes that Beel did and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Even if he had murdered her, she’d seen the way the others looked at him now. The way Mammon looked at him in this reality. So different from the one she came from, and dammit she needed to fix this. And she needed to mend things if she ever wanted to sleep right again. If Mammon ever wanted to sleep right again too, she guessed. “Hey.” When had her voice got so quiet and shaky? Did it even matter? “Why are you here?” It was sharp, defensive and hurt. Beel shifted uncomfortably beside her. Kore sighed. “We need to talk.” “What could we possibly have to talk about human?” She flinched just a little at the bite in his words, Beel placed a hand on her shoulder. “Belphie…” At the sound of his brother’s voice the younger demon wilted slightly, curling back into his blankets. “Why would you come to talk to me? You’re so scared of me you’re shaking.” He mumbled, and goddamnit both of them had the same sad puppy eyes. “I’m not…” But Kore could feel her body trembling now he’d pointed it out. “Maybe I am shaking, and maybe I am scared. But goddamnit I did not spend all this time trying to put this family back together to let it fall apart now.” “Why do you even care?” “I’m stubborn, ask anyone.” She padded slowly across the floor, signalling gently with one hand for Beel to stay where he was. “I’m stubborn and I’m well known for sticking my nose into things that don’t concern me. And if Lucifer trying to kill me twice didn’t stop me then I’m not letting you stop me either.” “I killed you.” His voice was so small, so different from the wicked tone she heard in her nightmares. “Why aren’t you more scared of me? Why don’t you hate me?” “You did kill me.” She nodded, settling herself down on the floor in front of him. “You killed me and you enjoyed it and honestly I’m really angry about that, and I am scared. Never thought I was allowed to be scared of dying, but hey, you learn something new every day.” She ignored the confused look he shot her, taking a deep breath. “But I also want this family to be a family again. And I think I’m going to haunt you forever, and that’s more than enough punishment for anyone.” “I could kill you again.” He snarled, and if the cornered animal metaphor hadn’t been true before it was now. He looked in pain, eyes darting around the room looking for an escape. “You could.” Kore steadied her breathing, glancing back over her shoulder towards Beel. “And I could marry Lord Diavolo and become Queen of Devildom, but the odds on either of those are slim. Not that I think you’d try again, but I’m not alone this time.” “What makes you think I wouldn’t try again?” “I’ve got eyes?” Belphie growled in response and she heard Beel shift behind her. “I know what remorse and guilt look like. I also know the Belphie I met before this was sweet, if a sarcastic little shit, and I know his brother thought we’d get along great. And maybe I thought that too.” Kore sighed, holding out a hand. “I’m not saying I forgive you just yet, and maybe you’ll decide you hate me anyway, but I’d like to at least try. Besides -” her mouth quirked up in a wicked smirk “-how are you going to enjoy my innate ability to piss off Lucifer if you’re always hiding from me?” That got a hint of a smile out of him and he gently reached out to shake her hand, muttering a quiet ‘truce’ under his breath. Somewhere behind them there was a choked sob and both heads whirled in Beel’s direction. Kore smiled softly. “C’mere you big softy.” She sighed, holding out her arms. Smothered in the suffocating warmth of Beel’s broad frame, her face pressed into Belphie’s neck she sighed. “Hey Belphie? Just so you know, I’m sorry.” “The fuck are you apologising for?” His voice cracked and she could swear she felt something wet drip onto her shoulder. “I should have come sooner.” Tears were filling her eyes now and she felt Beel squeeze them a little tighter. “I’m sorry too.”

She was going to save this damn family if it killed her. Again.

[365days365movies]

April 10, 2021: The Graduate (1967) (Recap: Part One)

Some Like it Hot got Oscar-stiffed. So did this film!

This film got seven nominations at the 1968 Oscars, and took home Best Director and NOTHING else. It was nominated for Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Supporting Actress, Adapted Screenplay, and Cinematography, and got NONE of them. Hot damn! That surprises me, because this film is RIDICULOUSLY iconic.

I mean, hell, The Simpsons has homaged it at least twice, which I know from the above GIF and the following GIF. And in that one, the teacher in the background is Dustin Hoffman, HOMAGING HIMSELF

There’s been a stage adaptation, AFI called it the 17th best movie of all time in 2007, while also putting it on 5 other lists, and but it on the Movie Quotes list TWICE! Leonard Maltin’s seen it before he dies, the Library of Congress has it in their collection, and it launched Dustin Hoffman’s career into the goddamn atmosphere!  And that’s not even mentioning the one thing I’m looking forward to the most:

The music.

Look, I’m not exactly a big music nerd, by ANY means. I’ve heard songs, but can rarely identify the band or person playing them. I was in an acapella group, a steel band, and chamber orchestra, so I’m no foreigner to music. I’m just...not a big music nerd. But I DO know Simon and Garfunkel, and the more I hear of them, the more I like them.

Scarborough Fair/Canticle, Bridge Over Troubled Water, Mrs. Robinson, Cecilia, I Am a Rock, ALL of them are good classic folk rock songs that are easy to remember. AND I KNOW IT’S LAME TO LIKE FOLK ROCK I DO NOT CARE SUE ME IF YOU MUST. Oh, and I didn’t even mention the most famous of their songs, whose fame was aided by this film’s success. But, uh...I’ll hold onto it for now.

In fact, for now, let’s just jump into the film in and of itself! The Graduate is a classic, and it’s been on my list for a while. It’s more of a romantic comedy, but it’s primarily a comedy (from my understanding), so it’s fitting that I throw it in here. Let’s go!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We start on a plane as it lands, joining Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), as he leaves the plane and walks through the airport. We also start right away with a BANGER, and the most iconic song on this film’s soundtrack: The Sound of Silence.

Classic. CLASSIC! One of their best! Not my favorite, but one of their best for sure! But OK, after that, we get to know Benjamin a bit more. He’s a recent college graduate and in a state of melancholy, not quite knowing what to do or how to feel about his new situation. This is to the confusion of his father, Mr. Braddock (William Daniels) and his mother, Mrs. Braddock (Elizabeth Wilson).

Urged to attend the party in his honor, he reluctantly goes downstairs, where he’s absolutely accosted (nearly assaulted) by all of his parents’ friends. One of these friends, Mr. Maguire (Walter Brooke), somewhat awkwardly pulls him to the side, and brings him out side. He wants to say one word to him. Just one word.

After that...interaction, Ben takes the opportunity to escape, as all of his accomplishments are being read out loud to the throngs. And I have to say, you can feel just how overwhelming all of this is for him. It’s a palpable anxiety. He goes back to his room to get away from everybody and just look at his fish tank. Just a celebration of the introvert’s experience right here, and I can dig it.

But this private reverie is interrupted by the barging in of one Mrs. Robinson (Katharine Ross), who pretends to have mistaken his room for the bathroom, but sits down and smokes anyway, despite his protests. She asks what making him upset, and notes that’s it’s more of a general feeling than a specific one. She understands and readies herself to leave, but not before asking him to give her a ride home. He reluctantly accepts, and takes her home. She invites him in through some subtle manipulation and...well, you know where this is headed.

An absolutely classic line and classic exchange, and I’m kind of surprised that it happens this soon into the movie, to be honest! She denies the accusation...kind of, and he asks her apology. But she brushes it off, and asks if he’d like to see the portrait of her daughter Elaine, which he’s quite enthusiastic about. But while there, in her room, things continue to get awkward as she basically undresses in front of him.

Mrs. Robinson continues to deny that she’s trying to seduce him, but it’s all basically gaslighting to get him to admit that he wants to be seduced. Damn, Mrs. Robinson, what the fuck? And it’s actually made WAY FUCKING WORSE when she tricks him into getting into a sealed room, where she traps him and tells him that she’s interested in sleeping with him, whenever he wants to. Ben is OBVIOUSLY frazzled as fuck, especially considering the basically near-rape situation he’s currently in.

Thankfully (maybe), the sound of Mr. Robinson’s car pulling up allows enough distraction (and adrenaline rush) for Ben to GET THE FUCK OUT of there, and he runs into Mr. Robinson (Murray Hamilton) in the process. Noticing how frazzled he seems to be, Mr. Robinson tells Ben to relax in his youth, and having a few flings with the ladies while he can. He brushes off all of this, and gets out as soon as he can.

Soon after, summer begins, and not really in Ben’s favor. He’s used again as a prop for his parents and their friends, as his father got him a SCUBA suit that he demonstrates in their pool, despite his protests and wish to be heard. And people...people don’t listen to Ben, huh? I genuinely feel bad for the kid, because it really does seem like nobody attempts to listen to what he wants for how he feels, his parents included. But he seems to get the solitude he’s been seeking as he sits beneath the pool. But that’s overlaid with the realization that Ben actually WAS seduced by Mrs. Robinson, and he gives her a call to meet soon afterwards.

They meet at the Taft Hotel, where Ben is his typical nervous and awkward self, and goes to get a room for the two of them. And it’s now that I should mention that this dude is EXTREMELY twitchy, like goddamn. I know they were saying that he’s “the kind of guy who was to fight them off”, but I DO NOT see it, not gonna lie. 

After a bit more awkwardness, they meet in a room at the hotel, where the clearly still quite nervous Ben struggles with the whole affair (pun intended), including the fact that she is one of his parent’s friends, and that this is a fast start to their relationship. But, Mrs. Robinson being Mrs. Robinson, she once again manipulates him into just getting on with it...and it works.

Once again, The Sound of Silence plays, as summer passes on and he lazes about the pool during the days, then goes to sleep with Mrs. Robinson in the nights. But he doesn’t seem to enjoy any of it, as the two halves of his life are so separate, and he separates them in his mind. And that’s done by some very clever camera work and production design, honestly.

This transitions into a version of the folk rock duo that I hadn’t heard before: April Come She Will, as the affair continues forth. This is interrupted by the frustrations of Ben’s father, who asks what he’s going to do after his collegiate career, tired of his lazing about and doing nothing for...a few weeks. Really? JESUS, DAD, LET ME RELAX!

His time with Mrs. Robinson is also a bit awkward, as he’s craving some sort of relationship outside of specifically sex, and she’s entirely uninterested in that kind of relationship with him. As he tries to start any form of conversation, she reluctantly enters one, which reveals some parts of her relationship with her husband. Specifically, they don’t really love each other, and were forced to marry because she became pregnant with Elaine. It also reveals that Mrs. Robinson is a somewhat broken woman, emotionally.

It’s also revealed during this conversation that Mrs. Robinson DOES FUCKING NOT want him to take Elaine out on a date, but won’t explain her reasons for that. After prying, she says that she doesn’t believe he’s good enough for her (although I don’t quite believe that, personally). This makes him upset, and leads to an argument that almost causes him to leave. But still, she forbids him to go out with Elaine.

That’s made even MORE complicated by the fact that Benjamin’s parents force him to ask her out on a date, and he does so reluctantly, which makes Mrs. Robinson VERY upset. And I gotta say...I don’t think I like anybody in this movie. Like...at all. I only kind of like Ben, although I really only feel bad for him because he has no agency in his life. Not a big fan of Mrs. Robinson, who’s upset by a situation she’s entirely responsible for, and is cheating on her husband. Ben’s parents are annoying, and Mr. Robinson...I dunno, sort of puts off these sleazy vibes, but that’s just a feeling I’m getting.

Elaine seems nice, though, as the two go on a date together. But in order to please Mrs. Robinson, Ben does his absolute damndest to sabotage the date. Starts off with reckless driving, then transitions into ignoring her almost entirely, and then takes her out to a strip club for the date. Which is all understandably extremely upsetting; again, it’s not exactly endearing me to Ben, and it’s not working on Elaine either, who’s convinced that Ben is doing this to punish her specifically, and I don’t fucking blame her!

She runs off crying, and he goes after her, realizing that he’s been a dick and that he really doesn’t want to be. They go get food at the A&W, which is making me both hungry AND nostalgic now...fuck, I really want some food from A&W. But with that, they actually have a good time when he opens up to her about how he’s felt since college ended, and she does something nobody else has: she listens to him.

OK, I’mma get some food, but this is a good place to pause for now! See you later for Part Two!

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 6 || C.H

A//N: Viola, I present chapter 6! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it was only supposed to be small but... whoops it’s over 9k! Anyway, here’s more Calum and Eloise in all their cuteness (and raunchiness - that’s your warning!) Enjoy! 

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 

His lips were sinners. God, they were that good.

Eloise could barely hold herself together as his swollen muscle worked against her, every crude sound it elicited echoed throughout the silent room. Her hand involuntarily found its way into his hair, fingers tangling in his dark curls as his tongue worked wonders on her core. Head pressed into the mattress, Eloise fought the urge to look down and watch him, knowing the glint of his eyes as he peered at her would only encourage her to stampede to breaking point.

She didn’t understand how she wasn’t embarrassed, never attempting to hide herself from him as he discarded each item of clothing from her beautiful body. He never once made her question herself as she lay in front of him, only ever fuelling her ego with sweet names and amorous affirmations.

She was practically begging for him, begging for him to keep going, begging for him to bring her to the point where she would crumble. God how was a man this good.

“God, Calum,” She gasped, throwing her head back against the mattress. The sound of his satisfied groan was music to her ears, as was the sound of every moan that fell from her lips to him. It was a mixture of sounds they wanted to hear forever.

Calum watched from his position, knees bent as he knelt at the edge of the bed, his tongue savouring every inch of her taste, her back arching in pleasure, completely bewitched at the sight of her losing every ounce of self-control right in front of his very eyes. He took a mental snapshot of every moment, drinking in every gasp, every moan, every quiver that rattled throughout her body as he worked his tongue against her sensitive folds.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” He remarked breathily, his hands grasped her thighs to keep them open, to keep her ready for him, revelling in the way she presented herself to him, in the way she blossomed, and waited for him to bring her to exactly where she wanted to go. The groan he released vibrated throughout her entire body, her fingers tightening in his curls, his dark hungry eyes watching as Eloise’s glazed ones met his as his tongue licked along the expanse of his lips that glistened like gloss in the light with the taste of her. “So goddamn pretty.”

Every swipe of his tongue, kiss of his lips, every soft touch had Eloise’s toes curling as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Her stomach coiled with every touch, every look. His eyes travelled along her body as it shook for him, his eyes admiring the sight of her neck that was littered with markings he had caused, the excitement of knowing they would only darken over time elicited a growl from within him. The sound was overwhelming in Eloise’s ears, her heartbeat thundering as Calum’s talent only heightened her nerves, her body craving to feel the burst of pleasure it so desperately desired.

His arms only pulled her thighs closer to him, her whole body shifting further down to the bed as he pressed his tongue further into her, embedding the muscle as it worked into overdrive, pushing for the release that both of them were trying to reach. The room was filled with whines, gasps, and shaking moans as she neared so close to her climax, her head pushing back against the mattress as she gasped for air, letting out a struggling, “Oh, my g-god,” when she felt as though she was at her peak. “Shit, shit, shit, Calum, I’m- “

Her free hand was thrown over her mouth as if an attempt to silence her outcries in the quiet house, her body shaking, eyes closing as her body embraced the overpowering blow that Calum was delivering.

“Cum for me, doll,” Calum encouraged, his muscular arms lifting her hips as he straightened up, tongue never leaving her as his lips encased the orgasm that erupted within her. The new angle only heightened her senses, the overwhelming strength of the orgasm causing Eloise’s eyes to see fireworks, her mind hazed as her toes curled, her blunt nails tugging on Calum’s hair only causing him to groan against her and she released right there and then all over his tongue.

Calum released his grip on her, lowering her hips, with a final kiss to her sensitive clit, being ushered back up to where the pretty brunette lay with a gentle tug of his curls. He didn’t give it a second to wait before he crawled up her body, lips following the saliva trail he had left behind when he first began his descent down her body. A journey he would make a thousand times over if she wanted him to. He knew he would never get tired of her body.

His plush lips ventured back along the sweet skin of her neck, his hands slowly travelling over the swell of her breasts, a destination they never wanted to leave, his fingertips tugging her nipples teasingly as his connected their lips in a slow, sucking kiss, the taste of her dancing along his tongue.

He was completely obsessed with her, in every sense of the word. He wanted to know every inch of Eloise like the back of his hand. The way she felt, the way she sounded. The way she tasted had his tongue tingling, a taste he only wished to be blessed with every day. And still, he knew that would never be enough for him, even having her morning, noon, and night would never be enough to suffice Calum’s dying desire for the girl who lay open for him.

“I want you so bad,” Her voice was hoarse, her eyes fluttering as she reached a single hand forward and pulled on the waistband of his boxers, silently urging for him to remove the constraints. Her whine felt like a punch to his gut, feeling his length twitch at the sound. Her chest rose and fell with shallow shaking breaths, her body urging for her to continue, her body urging for him.

Eloise couldn’t hold back at the fact that she practically drooled for him, the sight of him stood in front of her, completely bare once he tossed his boxers to the side, completely bare and ready for her. She couldn’t fight her eyes from scanning down his figure, drinking in the sight and admiring every single inch of his body. The art that danced along his skin; his collarbones and arms only fuelled the fire, the toned chest, compelling thighs, and perfectly sculpted face were only a small list of the reasons why she felt as dumbfounded as she looked, of the reasons why she was so starstruck by the god of a man who stood before her.

The mattress dipped slightly as he crawled back onto the bed, his lips connecting with her skin once again as he journeyed his way back to her lips, the connection between them practically searing like a bonfire. Each kiss leaving scorching burns in their wake as they lost themselves in one another, the feeling of Calum’s hardened length pressed against her bare thigh caused her heart to beat erratically, as if it were moments away about from bursting.

“Utterly perfect,” Calum rasped, lips capturing hers as if to try and solidify his statement, realising how breathless she had him, how absolutely numb he felt to anything other than her in that moment, his front pressed flush against hers, their skin smooth against one another’s touch as the impatience between them grew with every passing second. “Fuck, I need you so bad.”

“Then have me,” Eloise let out a whine, senses overwhelmed at the thought of Calum and having to wait any longer to feel him, her hands grasping his face as if he was a delicate rose, the lines of his jaw resting in her palms, as his chest pressed against her shaking one. Their eyes met in a fiery dance, brown staring into brown, as they hovered over one another, lips merely inches apart, as she drank in every feature of him, cherishing every beautiful thing she could see as she watched the man above her. “You can have all of me, Cal. I want you.”

Foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing within the silence of Calum’s bedroom as their blood pumped throughout their veins, and hearts pounded against their chests. They were entangled with one another, eyes never drifting as they tried to remain as close as their bodies would allow, realising that such a thing would never be humanly possible.

Realisation hit Calum like a truck, the thought of a rubber between them only bringing a hint of disappointment to his chest before his train of thought was interrupted by the familiar sweet song of Eloise, “I’m covered. ‘M on the pill.”

He swore his heart jumped and confetti cannons were shot in his chest as the words she spoke registered in his brain, his forehead dropping to the space on the bed next to her, lips pressing against the crook her neck, a groan laced with nothing but pure arousal escaped his mouth at the thought of feeling Eloise without any barrier, any filter between them as they got lost in each other’s bodies.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” The smirk was almost painful, the thought in his head being voiced as it fluttered within his chest and mind where the thoughts of Eloise basked. His strong hand reached down between them, gripped his base, and allowed the tip to brush against her sensitive folds briefly, the soft audible whine that escaped her lips only encouraged him, the smirk remaining strong along his lips before he slanted them over her own in a hot kiss; full of adrenaline as he got lost in the beauty that was Eloise.

With a swift movement of his hips he allowed himself to sink inside of her, the sensation of her body wrapping itself around him forcing him to release her lips momentarily, foreheads pressed together as the two let out conjoined groans at the new feelings that burned within them.

Eloise couldn’t fight the gasp as she rolled her eyes back at the staggering way of how he filled her so completely, buried to the hilt, to the point where she could already feel her stomach coiling at the sensation that had begun to build. God, she would never feel something like this anywhere else. And he felt the same, dragging his lips along hers as he released shaking breaths, his heart caught in his throat as he held himself up above her, arms shaking at the sensation that was this woman who was wrapped around him.

Both of them took a moment to process what was happening, to bask in the level of intimacy that neither of them had taken a step towards that first night of meeting, the new level that they had undeniably craved ever since. It took for Eloise to clench, for her eyes to roll euphorically at the sensation of Calum being buried so far inside of her, for Calum to make a move, breaking every slither of control he had within himself as he pulled out, barely leaving much of himself in her warmth before he snapped his hips forward, the sound of their skin connecting being a sound that only spurred him on.

The pleased moan that escaped Eloise at Calum’s rough movement motivated Calum to pick up the pace, his lips helplessly kissing her for what felt the hundredth time that day, but still revelled in the fire her lips ignited just like it was the first time he felt them all over again. It was all tongue and clashing teeth, rushed movements mixed with the burn that was coursing through their bodies as the waves of pure ecstasy overpowered their ability to breathe and the control over their bodies, the sensation that erupted within Eloise only being made more enjoyable at the gentle scratch of his stubble against her soft skin.

Eloise’s legs moved to wrap around his hips, her ankles locking together at the base of his back, letting out a soft, “Feel so good, Cal,” as the new angle allowed for Calum to push himself into her further, speed only picking up, and had Eloise hurdling straight for the edge. Calum had his face buried into the crook her neck, unable to comprehend a feeling as euphoric and overwhelming as this, an experience he knew he never wanted to end. “God, I’m so full.”

She really was going to be the death of him, he knew. Calum’s lips kissed her collarbones, painting new markings along her supple skin. He had to find the strength to push himself up, his torso hovering above her, hand grasping onto the back of her thigh, blunt nails leaving crescent shaped marks as his hips never once missed a beat, his entire body overwhelmed with the emotion and the feeling of just how well he fit with her, as if she were his missing piece. “You were made for me, baby,” He groaned, the praise that fell from his lips couldn’t be stopped, as he embraced everything about her. “A perfect creation, just for me.”

The moan that left Eloise only proved that she believed that. And she believed that in its entirety.

It wasn’t much longer before they were both meeting their final destinations, stomachs coiling almost painfully as their muscles convulsed at their fast-approaching orgasms. Eloise couldn’t hold back her release, not once Calum let his hand fall from her thigh to keep himself propped up, his free hand travelling down to rub fast, but loose, hypnotic circles over her clit with the calloused pad of his thumb, as he let the urging words slip from his swollen lips, “C’mon baby, let me see how pretty you are. Let me see just how pretty you are when you cum, Eloise.”

Eloise didn’t think she had it in her to force her eyes open at his enticing words, her eyes looking up and finding the beauty that was Calum above her, bringing her the kind of sensual bliss she didn’t know was possible, the man who ignited her body in a burning fire, one that caused every single nerve throughout her body to stand at full attention. All it took was for her eyes to connect with his and that was it. She was breaking in the best way possible.

Calum’s movements continued, speed never slowing, as he encouraged her to ride out the high, the warmth she embodied as she released only spurred him on, reaching his own orgasm at a speed he didn’t know how to control. The echo of skin slapping against skin and the combination of their moans captured the moment perfectly, filling the air with nothing but the pleasure they let themselves get lost in.

The kiss-swollen lips of Eloise parted in a powerful gasp as Calum continued his movements, his body yearning for the sensation he felt within her sensitive core, urging himself to remember the moment of how her name felt falling past his lips in an overpowering euphoric groan when his own orgasm finally caught up to him, washing over his entire being, and she feels him in all his glory as he deliciously spilled every ounce of himself inside of her.

Breaths were heavy, limbs were tangled as they lay together in the messy sheets, basking in a moment they knew they would never forget, in a moment they knew had changed everything for the better.

*****

19 Days Left

The sheets felt softer than the last time she found herself tangled in them. The colour of the curtains no longer puzzled her, neither did the colour of the floor, or the dog toy that had been moved to below the windowsill since she was last here. Everything was the same; still memorable. The only difference this time compared to the last was a big one. The stupid smile that spread across her face at the thought of the sleeping man next to her, his arm hooked securely around her waist as she lay in his bed, only widened as she remembered the night’s events.

The thought of him cherishing her was one she knew she would never forget, neither would the thought of how perfect he looked above her, felt inside of her, how he spoke to her was even perfect. She wanted to slap herself for feeling like a lovestruck teenager, unable to stop the rerun of the night as it played vividly in her mind. Eloise, come on!

She couldn’t help but to look at his arm, eyes picking out the ink that was scattered along his skin, her finger inquisitively coming up and running along it, tracing the lettering and over the outline of the different pictures as she smiled at the smooth feeling of his skin against hers. Eloise’s mind flashed back to what led to the events of last night, holding back a sigh at the memory at the feeling she remembered of how she felt like she was sat in a confessional, admitting to her wrong-doing and begging for forgiveness. She messed up, she knew she had hurt him, and she had only hurt herself when she learnt that the feelings he had felt towards her were genuine, them stemming from a place of kindness with nothing but good-hearted intentions, and she had quite literally taken his heart and played with the strings.

She knew it was never supposed to get to this point. Not for her anyway. She wasn’t supposed to care if Calum felt genuine towards her, she wasn’t supposed to care if he fell in love with her or not, she wasn’t supposed to catch real feelings because it was all for personal gain. It was all for a game of money. She was in pretty deep, and quite frankly she wasn’t worried – well, she was – but not about what happened to her. She worried about what Scott would say, about what Han would say. She was betraying them big time; she knew she would never be forgiven for that. She knew she would never be forgiven by them like she had been by Calum; the two other men in her life being a lot colder and having a lot more conditioning to be naturally angry. She was going to lose them; she was willing to accept that to a certain extent but that didn’t stop it from hurting still.

Thoughts travelled to the man who slept next to her, brown eyes watching as soft snores drifted from his parted lips, back rising and falling beneath the duvet, hair sticking up all different directions – much of that being her own fault – as it spread against the pillow. He was like a perfect picture, something that was to be treasured and never disturbed. He was almost too perfect to be touched, to be seen as real, but he was. He was real and he was with Eloise.

What are we? – She asked herself, letting a soft sigh fall from her lips as she lay there and watched a sleeping Calum, the sight being one she felt as though she would never get bored of watching, it filling her body with relaxation as she matched his breathing, finding herself counting each one silently. She knew they weren’t a couple; in all honesty she didn’t know what exactly would class them as a couple. Did they have to officially agree to that? But she knew they weren’t just seeing each other. Surely there was something in-between right? Was there a name for two people who felt a connection after a few days, one of them having lied to the other since the start, confessing to said lie, forgiving them, and then sleeping together? No? Okay.

It wasn’t something that she had the urge to discuss, not wanting to hear a dreaded response of nothing – that being physical or verbal. But it was still something she craved to know, something she didn’t think she would feel so desired to understand. They weren’t friends. She knew that much. But were they lovers?  

“You’re awake,” A sleep-laced grumble distracted Eloise from her thoughts, her eyes falling to feel the brown ones peeking up at her through thick eyelashes, a sleepy smile on his lips as he noticed his arm that was stretched out across her waist; it not moved since they fell asleep the night before. Eloise couldn’t not notice the subtle surprise in his voice when he saw her, the sound resulting in her own smile itching at her lips at the sight of the pretty man who lay in the bed. “I thought you would’ve been out for the count for a few more hours.”

“Unfortunately for you, sleeping beauty, I’m a morning person. I can barely sleep past ten on a good day,” She chuckled, adjusting herself so she sat up against the headboard, her soft hand coming up and combing through his curls, her lips pursed ever so slightly as she gently combed out the tugs with her fingers, feeling comfort in the small moments she could share with him. It was so comfortable, so quickly, so easy. His eyes watched her from where he lay, brown eyes searching those of Eloise as he treasured this moment.

It was as if there were no barriers between them, as if it had always been like this, as if it had always just been the two of them with no tension, no lies, and no associations that stood between them. It felt as if they had been like this for months, as if it had always meant to be. And that warmed Calum’s heart, to see Eloise so content as she focused on her hands in his hair, the little glint of concentration in her eyes as she focused on removing the knots as gently as possible, as if her hands didn’t hold the ability to destroy lives if she so wished. It was a softer side she had, one that not many saw, one that Calum felt he had begun to see from the start, it only showing itself more and more clearly with every moment he spent with her.

The involuntary soft moan he let slip was one that caused a fond smile to spread along Eloise’s lips, the sound only proving to her that he enjoyed her touch, the way her fingers worked as they curled through his hair. She remembered when her mother used to brush her hair, when she used to play with her hair, having always loved the feeling and would let her mother do it for hours. It was something that everyone enjoyed, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The soft tingle it created within the body being one that Eloise missed, a soft comfort it brought to her that she no longer could feel.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” She spoke softly, twisting a soft curl around her finger as she brushed them away from his face, her expression soft as she sat up against the headboard, hand never stopping as it continued to rake through his mop of curls. It wasn’t a mistake, she was sure of that, but she wanted to know what he thought. Did he come to regret the decision after sleeping on it? Or did he bask in the glow the thought of the night gave him inside; the burning butterflies that danced within his stomach? “Or would you rather just- “

“What about it?” He interrupted her, eyes glancing up as he perched his chin in his palm as he pushed himself up, using his bent arm beneath him to support himself. She was even more beautiful in the morning, he noted. He had saw her in the morning before, but this was different. He was with her, fully engrossed in the moment they were sharing together. There was no rush of anyone trying to escape, there was no awkward moments of trying to remember what happened. There was nothing but pure admiration as they remained in bed and shared hopeful gazes and soft touches.

“Anything, I guess,” She shrugged, her cheeks turning a light rosy shade as she looked down at the space between them, tearing her eyes from his for a moment. Why did she feel so shy all of a sudden? “Like, what happened,” God, she felt like an idiot. She really was acting like a lovestruck teenager with a painfully sickening crush. It was like being back in high school.

“I’m not sorry if that’s what you mean,” The confidence he spoke with was dizzying to Eloise, he was so sure of his answer, the smile on his lips was enough to make her want to repeat the sins of the night before all over again. Pull yourself together, she warned herself silently as she rolled her lips into her mouth, meeting his dark eyes as she tried to prepare herself for her own response.

“Me neither,” Her blunt nails gently grazed his scalp as she slowly pulled her hand away, abandoning his mop of hair before she readjusted herself on the bed, crossing her legs as she attempted to sit comfortably. Her fingers grasped the bedsheets, pulling them up to cover her bare legs in an attempt to protect them from the chill coming from the window. Although with the heat that Calum was creating, she didn’t need to worry about being cold. “I don’t regret any of last night.”

“’M glad to hear it.” He hummed, staring at her helplessly with a boyish smile spread across his lips. That fucking smile. It was going to get Eloise in so much trouble. Eloise’s eyes subtly drifted to his chest, noting the black ink she could make out from their positions, the artistry being something she always admired regardless of who it was attached to. It was something she had always considered doing, but she never had the money and never had the time. So, it was put on the backburner until a later date. Although most things that Eloise placed on the backburner ended up being forgotten, a distance wish that she would never go back to. The art reminding her of having a choice, rekindling the memory of what it felt like to live before she was tied down, it only fuelling her desire to feel that memory once more.

And Calum was her chance.

“I’m tellin’ you, you better make a breakfast as good as that beef you made when I first came over. You’ve set yourself at a high standard and I really don’t want to be disappointed,” Eloise pointed lazily at him, smiling at the memory of the dinner they shared that night; the food being something that she knew she would never forget, it was that good.

“I’m not makin’ any promises,” He laughed as he pushed himself up, sliding out of bed, stretching his arms out and releasing a deep yawn. Eloise’s eyes fell to his shirtless body, watching as every muscle twisted and bulged as he stretched; biceps curling, shoulders tensing, thighs making their presence known as he stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts in front of her. She could feel her mouth-watering at the sight, having to mentally remind herself that he wasn’t a piece of meat; no matter how tasty he looked. “But I can try my best. Anything specific takin’ your fancy or should I surprise you?”

The raise of her eyebrows was enough of an answer and he laughed, slipping into a pair of athletic shorts, and left the bedroom with a soft acknowledgement of, “Surprise it is.” Before he disappeared into the kitchen to make a start, leaving Eloise in the comfort of the creased bedsheets, alone and warm. She let out a loud exasperated breath, her chest finally feeling light as she released the weighted breath she had been holding, her mind running in circles as Eloise tried to figure out what was happening in that moment. She felt like she was dreaming, as if she were flying, it felt impossible to be living.

It was feeling like that that made her realise why she never walked away every single time she thought she should have. Last night, Eloise was trying to convince herself that she should have walked away from Calum at the very beginning, leaving his house that morning and never going back. She felt like when Han questioned her whereabouts, she should have said that he didn’t want to see her; she should have been stern. She felt like she should have picked a different victim. But when she smiled at the butterflies she felt when she was around Calum, when she felt herself laugh with him, she knew she couldn’t have done it with anyone else. She knew she couldn’t do it at all.

It’s what led to her sitting in his living room the night before, confessing to the twisted plan of the Gypsy Kings, admitting to participating with the cruel intentions, only to realise that the fake feelings she was pretending where her real ones all along; undeniably. The sight of him made her weak at the knees, made her feel guilty for ever having any form on unkindness intended towards him, made her unable to feel anything but pure admiration and infatuation for him. The little things he did; how he smiled, how he laughed, how his hair fell limp in the morning, how his fingers tapped on the steering wheel of the car in even total silence, made her realise why she stayed every time, why she could never make herself walk away and why she felt what she did for the man who unintentionally captured her heart.

The wooden floors of Calum’s bedroom felt cold against her feet, her legs carrying her around the bed and to the bedroom door. Her hands gripped hold on Calum’s shirt that he had discarded on the floor last night, tossing it over herself and nodding how it came to the perfect length as the hem resting halfway down her thighs. He wouldn’t mind right? She pulled open the bedroom door, the familiar hallway greeting her eyes as she spotted the large windows, the sunlight beaming through them due to the sociable morning hour. Her eyes caught sight of the familiar photographs along his walls, the beautiful canvas at the far end catching her attention for a few extra seconds before her brown irises fell on one familiar photograph. She stared at it with less surprise this time round, and instead of her lips trembling at the anxiety of discovering his job, she smiled at the sight of him in his blue uniform, a hint of reassurance washing over her and she thought of how proud he was of what he did, of who he was. And his family must have been too.

Bacon. She could smell bacon, and man it smelt awesome. Her eyes practically hit the back of her head in euphoria at the realisation of what the smell was. Her mouth instinctively salivating at the thought of greasy bacon, it being something that she always enjoyed. It was impossible to mess up bacon. Well, she hoped. She walked into the open plan area of the house, smiling at the sight of Calum stood over the stove, his back facing her as he focused on the meat that was frying away in the pan in front of him. He looked at peace when he was cooking, his muscles were relaxed apart from the one in his brow, constantly furrowed in concentration as if to make sure he didn’t mess up what he trying to cook.

She made her way into the kitchen, smiling fondly as she perched herself up to sit on the kitchen counter next to the sink, her head tilting to the side as she admired the sight of him. He stood in his dark blue shorts; hands occupied as he hummed along to whatever song what was playing on the radio by his window. It sounded like typical breakfast radio, the upbeat voices of the presenters trying to boost the moods of many early risers as they made their way to work, filling the kitchen before they dispersed and a recognisable song in the charts played in their place, filling the room with music.

Her brown eyes fell to the couch on the far side of the room, smiling as she recognised the familiar lump of fur that lay curled up on the cushion, big eyes meeting hers from the other side of the house. “I think he’s upset with me,” Eloise couldn’t hold back the giggle, disrupting the silence and tearing Calum’s attention away from the pork in the pan and the voices on the radio as his eyes turned and met the familiar cocoa ones that belonged her. She pointed over to where Duke lay on the couch, chuckling fondly at the recollection of she first met the pup. “I think I stole his bed last night, whoops.”

Calum couldn’t hide his chuckle at the realisation, smiling as he turned back to pan with a shake of his head. “He’ll get used to it.” He chimed, using the tongs in his hand to remove the cooked pieces of meat from pan before placing another few strips on the heat, a loud sizzle erupting from the connection between raw meat and burning metal.

“And why would he?” She asked knowingly, smiling at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. A genuine regular occurrence. Eloise found herself liking the idea of this becoming her new normal; being in the kitchen in the morning with someone cooking for her, a dog wandering around minding its own business, and having nothing but happiness cloud the room as the two people in it enjoyed one another’s company. It was a secret dream that Eloise didn’t talk about too often; usually only when she got drunk enough but the sad kind of drunk. She did have one dream that she denied herself; one where she with someone, someone she loved dearly; someone who loved her, and they grew together, owned a home together, and raised a family together. It was something that she secretly wanted but had written it off long ago, the mere idea becoming a joke to her. It was never going to happen for a girl like her and she was more than willing to accept that.

“Bacon’s ready if you want some,” His voice spoke up, head nodding towards the plate of piping hot bacon that sat on the counter, ignoring her question, both of them knowing exactly what he meant, “You’ll find the butter on the bottom shelf in the fridge and the rolls are in the cupboard next to it.” His hand pointed behind him towards the silver appliance, head quickly turning to glance at her as a smile graced his features, the sight of her in his shirt finally sinking in and catching his eye.

Calum swore he felt his boxers tighten at the view if front of him, his throat drying as he tried to compute between his brain and his body, trying to control himself. It was just a shirt, he told himself. Just a shirt. Cheeks flushed, Calum coughed a little to clear his throat, blinking rapidly a few times before turning his head and focusing back onto the hot pan in front of him. It’s just a shirt, Calum. He had to remind himself that he had seen her naked for crying out loud, why was seeing her in his shirt causing him to have a somewhat similar reaction? Oh yeah… Okay, don’t think about that, that’s not helping.

Eloise noticed his reaction; the way his cheeks flushed, and the way his Adam’s apple bopped as his eyes cascaded down her figure – as subtly as possible – so he could drink in the woman who stood in his kitchen. It made her feel as though she wanted to shy away like a child but there was something inside her that craved having his eyes on her, as if there were no other place where she wanted them to be.

It blew her mind when she thought about it; how every single feeling she had felt since the moment their lips connected last night suddenly made sense of everything. It had opened her eyes and let her see what was right in front of her since that very night. Eloise couldn’t help but wonder if this is what her parents once felt; a self-embrace as you looked on at someone who made you feel as though you were suffocating but in the best way. She wondered what it felt like for them, hopelessly lovestruck, with nothing but eyes for one another, she wondered what would have happened if her dad didn’t live as he did. Maybe they would’ve been happier, maybe they would still be alive.

She knew her mother would be proud of her for listening to her heart, always knowing that her mother pushed for her to follow the steady beat of the organ and to do what she felt was right. Her dad, on the other hand, was the tactful thinker; always planning ahead of what his next move would be in all walks of life. For so long, his method made sense to her but it was what had caused her to become so unhappy in the way she lived, something that she hadn’t fully come to realise until her heart spoke up, until her mother helped her.

Eloise took her place at the counter beside Calum, smiling to herself as she buttered a few rolls and made the bacon sandwiches. It blew her mind how so quickly she had accepted what she felt; how normal this felt. And she knew, she was going to enjoy every second that she could get before she would have to face the reality of what this admission brought forward for the both of them.

Warm arms slipped around her waist as a tender presence was felt behind her, soft full lips finding the crook of her neck like they had last night as Calum held her, distracting her from the mundane task she was trying to perform. He was good at that already: distracting. “Bacon smells good,” She commented, closing over a roll and placing it down on a small plate to her left.

“You smell pretty good too,” He hummed, pulling her tightly against his chest, erupting a giggle from Eloise as she smirked at his remark. His eyes trailed over the skin of her neck; bruised from his lips and the assault he struck upon the blank canvas last night, his mind remembering the path he had paved out along her body, the urge inside him burning with desire to walk it again, and again, and again. He wanted to walk that descent for the rest of his days.

“Take your stupid breakfast and sit down,” Eloise scoffed playfully, her head shaking as she handed him his plate before making her way over to his dining table, feeling how his arms dropped from her as he took the plate before joining her.

She couldn’t ignore how his knee brushed her own every few minutes, as if he were reminding himself that she was still there, real, and not just in his imagination. The breakfast was good, Eloise sucking the salty grease from her fingers after picking up a piece of bacon that had slipped from the confinements of her bread roll. She could feel the burning eyes from across the table, unable to hide the pouting smirk that she wore at the expression on his face she caught in the corner of her eye. She knew what she was doing.

Calum couldn’t help but bask in how good that moment felt, the simple act of sharing a breakfast together filling him with a fulfilling feeling that he felt as though he had always searched for. His eyes watched Eloise as she ate, wishing that he could spend every morning like this; in peace and in happiness with her. Her eyes met his, the hairs of his leg brushing against her own limb as he slid it to rest against her soft skin, her touch bringing a comfort to him as they sat together. He knew they had things to talk about, but he couldn’t help but want to ignore them for as long as possible, to enjoy every moment he could have with her with no interruptions. And she wanted the same, badly, but they both knew they couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room much longer.

It was time to bite the bullet and ask themselves the burning questions.

“How are we going to handle this?” Eloise was the first to speak, taking the first swing at the invisible wall they had silently put up to forget about what brought them together, her knee knocking against his gently as if to try and make sure the same comforting aura remained between them. “They can’t know about us, no one can. Not until this over.”

Instinctively Calum nodded, he knew she was right. Nobody; no cops, or gang bangers, could know about them until this was over. Of course, Han and a few members knew about them already, but no one knew about them. And that was how they needed to keep it. As far as anyone else was aware, everything between them was fake when it came to Eloise, and nobody could think otherwise.

“Doesn’t mean we need to act any different though,” He let a shrug fall from his shoulders, large hand reaching out and capturing hers in a soft hold, turning the limbs over so he could laced his fingers between her small ones, a soft smile being shared between them at the pure sight, “You just need to give them the fake intel on our investigations like we agreed, mislead them into thinking that you’ve pushed us in an opposite direction, so they think they stand a chance,”

Eloise couldn’t tear her hand from where their hands joined, the size of his compared to her own was almost laughable, it consumed her small fist with ease. His hold was warm, comforting, dizzying, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She had grown up holding guns, knives, liquor bottles, and endless numbers of dirty money bags in the palms of her hands, and she knew that with the simple touch of Calum’s palm in hers that she would choose to not touch anything else as long as she lived. He was truly breaking her, breaking down every wall she had built over the years, making his stand as the one who could free her heart.

When she sat there, holding his hand, she felt as though she could breathe, as if she was living, truly living, like every cold restraint she had tied around her heart over the years of feeling afraid, of being alone, were breaking when he looked at her, with every simple smile she felt like her heart could beat again, it could beat freely as she drank in every beautiful second that she shared with him.

The way her heartbeat vibrated within her chest reminded her of a time when she last felt truly alive; a time where she last felt whole. The photograph she found on her Instagram that day at the café, the last happy trip her and her parents had taken together before everything fell apart. She labelled that day as the last one she remembers smiling with nothing but love, the day that makes her heart bleed with pain at the knowledge that she’ll never experience that day again. But being with Calum reignited that feeling of warmth in her heart that she felt, reminding her what it was like to forget the pain she had become so engrossed in.

It was all she had ever wanted; to be able to forget and to be able to embrace memories that she could associate with nothing but positive feelings.

Maybe Paige really was right… Maybe Eloise was falling in love.

But wasn’t it a bit quick? Eloise couldn’t even be sure that it was how she was feeling. Maybe it was just the effects of their night playing with her heart? No, definitely not. She decided to push the thoughts to the back of her mind; a box to delve into another time.

“They don’t need to know what doesn’t concern them, just let them believe whatever they want,” Calum spoke kindly, eyes detecting the undeniable paranoia that itched across her face. It scared her a bit, or better said; they scared her. She had never been afraid of any of the Gypsy Kings before, but that was before she got romantically involved with a cop, especially one that she was supposed to use to their advantage. “El, just tell them what you need to in order to keep them happy. You just need to keep them happy until that shipment comes in, and then let us do the rest. And until then, I’ll keep the cops off your backs, okay?”

They had a plan. Eloise had kept herself awake half of the night once Calum fell asleep, reciting it in her head, drilling it into herself as if to try and convince herself that it would actually work. Of course, it was going to work, it had to work. They had laid together and figured out what they needed to do in order to construct the downfall of the gang Eloise once considered to be her family.

They were to continue as expected, Eloise would report back to the Kings about her progress with Calum, hand them false information regarding the NYPD’s knowledge of the shipment, claiming that she’s attempting to set up a diversion to distract the police so they can follow through with the capture of the shipment. Eloise would keep Calum in the loop with the details regarding the deal, keeping the tip offs as anonymous letters he would mysteriously find that he could use to strengthen the precinct’s case against the gang.

They had planned for Calum and whoever else he would bring to wait a mile or so out of the boat yard, to wait until a certain time or for a code word to be spoken to indicate that Eloise was ready for them to rumbled. They’d discussed the possibility of her wearing a wire, the details still being hazy as she wasn’t sure if what was the best course of action.

Calum had worked out an escape plan for Eloise, explaining that if she had the chance, she needed to run and hide, expressing his feelings regarding the idea of her being in prison. He had made her aware of a broken fence at the southside of the yard – being familiar with the area – explaining that she could sneak out through there and try to get away. He assured that he would try to prevent her from being snatched up by the police, wanting her to have her chance at freedom instead of being locked in a cell for the rest of her days.

He didn’t want that for her, and neither did she. But he knew it was better than her being shot. Well, he thought it was. Eloise knew, deep down, that she wasn’t going to survive prison if she was put there. No snitches ever lasted long once the word got out. Eloise knew she had two options; she either ran or she didn’t make it out of that boat yard alive. Calum had instructed Eloise to never stop running if she managed to escape, telling her to run and get out of New York as fast as she could, to go somewhere no one would know to look and to start somewhere new, to start again.

It’s all Eloise had ever wanted; to see somewhere new and to have a fresh start. She thought about it more often than not, but now she couldn’t see herself doing that. Not without Calum being included in that new beginning. God, she was getting too attached too quickly. She felt so stupid for thinking they could do that, that they would be able to run away together and build a life somewhere that no one knew their names or knew of her past.

But hey, a girl could dream.

Eloise queried about proof, asking about what she would do if the Gypsy Kings wanted proof of her work with Calum; something to back up what she says, to assure them that she was doing as she was asked. “They’re gullible but not entirely stupid,” She informed him, a soft sigh leaving her chest as she saw the gaze Calum had on her. He looked so helplessly smitten, a lopsided boyish smirk on his face as he watched her lips move with every word; a sight he loved.

“We can arrange a run in or something, make it seem as though we’re out on a walk or we’re on a date and you run into a familiar face in the street. I’ll even let you hold my hand and I can act incredibly loved up if need be, and we’ll play it from there,” His fingers squeezed hers reassuringly, “Honestly, El, you worry so much. We have time to work everything out, we’ve got weeks left,” He was right; the shipment wasn’t arriving for a few more weeks, so they had time to fill in the cracks and build on their plan. Eloise had time to lie, but this time for the right reasons.

She couldn’t stop the teasing smirk on her lips as she let out a coy, “I’m not sure much acting will be required on your part,” Her playful giggle was a sound he wanted to replay, a sound he wanted to save for those lonely nights when he couldn’t sleep. As much as he didn’t want to admit so quickly; she was right. He was so helplessly smitten with her and he didn’t know how to stop, nor did he want to.

Calum tugged her hand gently towards him, requesting for her to move closer to him with a quiet, “C’mere.”. Her eyes never left him as she stood to her feet, moving around the table, arms moving to wrap around his neck as she adjusted herself as she straddled him on the dining chair, the warmth that his hands radiated through the fabric of his shirt that she wore ignited the spark in her stomach again, every nerve ending within her body standing up attentive as she focused on his fingertips, one hand sliding down her waist and resting rather comfortably on the side of her thigh. The textured skin beneath his fingers created an almost uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, his hand moving so his fingers weren’t brushing against where her scar sat. He didn’t ask about it; sensing it wasn’t something she was ready to disclose with him yet. The combination of their hot skin felt like a fire dance, both of them unbearably close to one another and yet both fighting to resist the urge to lose themselves within one another for a second time in the same twenty-four hours. God, the things that boy could do with the simplest look.

The difference in Eloise was almost monumental, a change that she never thought would happen, the speed of such a transformation unsettling her ever so slightly. She had gone from being a closed book, a locked chest at the bottom of the ocean with no key in sight. She was so apprehensive when it came to her feelings before; locking them away until they clawed at the cage to get out momentarily before she found control again and regained stability once more, but since Calum stole her table at the bar that night, she found the security around her emotions beginning to chip away.

From what started off as a mere throwaway fling – a failed one at that – to a game for selfish personal gain, to where they stood now; it was something that knocked Eloise for six. It was all supposed to be fake, something she would forget even happened in a months’ time but in reality, it was an experience that had changed her life. From how she started with a simple sexual attraction to a good looking stranger in a bar, she had developed true feelings and what felt like an emotional connection; one that she knew she wouldn’t feel anywhere else to the man who’s heart she could hear beating in her ears as she sat with merely inches between them.

Her fingers snuck into the back of his hair, fingertips curling around the locks that coiled at the nape of his neck, a gentle smile across her lips as she just looked at him, admiring everything she could see as she sat in the silence. Voices in her head fought for pride of place, a million questions being thrown around that she tried so desperately to ignore.

Would she come to regret letting her heart make this decision; to allow herself to become an open book and allowing for someone, especially someone who she was supposed to have a hatred for, to read every metaphorical word that itched across her skin as it told her story? There was no definite answer, not one that Eloise could feel confident in giving herself, but that didn’t stop her from silently begging – praying – for it to never be the case.

The way his blunt nails were dragging along her thigh were distracting, the tickle from his fingers sparking a smirk from her as he slowly pushed the fabric of his shirt up, eventually allowing it to bunch at her hips as she sat perched in his lap. With a raise of her eyebrows she quipped, “And what do you think you’re doing?”. She pursed her lips a little, the slight action urging Calum to kiss her again, the internal battle he was having with himself over if he should just carry her straight back into the bedroom was painful, the urge feeling as though it was primal.

Eloise’s dark eyes watched as his Adam’s apple worked in his throat, the expenditure of his neck tempting her to coat it in colourful markings again like she had the night before, the light bruises beginning to take their true form as the colours contrasted against his brown skin. There was no other way she wanted to spend her time, other than being wrapped up in his sheets, dead to world as she lay with him. She wanted to forget the plan ever existed, her eyes only focusing on the god in front of her.

“I think it’s about time I show you just how beautiful I think you are,” His let the words fall in a mesmerising breath, as if he didn’t even give himself time to think them over, it being the first thought that came to him when he looked at her. “I want to cherish every single inch of you,” The whisper was deep, the little pause between those three words that rang in Eloise’s ears not going unnoticed alongside the hint of a groan lingering in his throat as he rolled his lips into his mouth almost painfully, the animal inside of him stirring at the sensation of her sitting on top of him. His desire to ravish her was too strong that he couldn’t fight it any longer, just like he couldn’t last night, he couldn’t hold himself together around her, not once he saw that side of her.

Eloise bit back the moan that fought to leave her, biting her tongue to try to silence it, as if to try and fight the effect his words had on her. Although she knew, there was no way in hiding what he did to her, knowing he could feel it just like she could. The sensation of his fingers playing with the elastic of her underwear only spurred her on, causing her to work harder to prevent the pleasurable noises that Calum wanted to hear so badly. The only sound she could muster the strength to make was a simple whimper, her voice shaking as her eyes slowly closed and her lips connected with his own.

“Then prove it,”

She knew she was done for; a complete mess of limbs and noises at the hands of a man who knew exactly how to treat her. And she couldn’t feel better about it than in that moment.

---

Tag List: @steviemae​ @elsysoza​ @treatallwithkindness​ @oopsiedoopsie23​

[foxtophat]

hahah well here i am back on my 10k word bullshit

promise the next chapter is way shorter, john is just so fucking over the top that i spend so much time just trying to organize his thoughts for you guys lmfao. what a chad, right?????

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy nick and john bitching at each other, because that’s pretty much the theme of this chapter.  i really enjoyed writing it, which should tell you everything you need to know about how bad a day john is about to have

as usual, i hope that you enjoy! if you do, please consider throwing me a bone in the form of a kudos, comment or reblog -- i eat those up like turkish delight, nom nom nom

also as usual, i got the fic text beneath a readmore for my friends who like to stay on one page.   no matter what your reading experience, i will try to accommodate for you!!!

i hope you guys are all having a good day and that it continues to be good even after i’m done giving you fic to read!! that’s... all that’s all i got

John had known offering his help was a mistake as soon as he'd done it. Suggesting that he knew where hidden supplies might be was obviously setting himself up for colossal failure, but he'd had to think on his feet. He hadn't wanted to build up Kim's hopes, or encourage her to talk to Nick about it. All he'd wanted was for her to go back upstairs so he could sneak outside without her haranguing him for it. Then he'd seen how much it had reassured her, and the obligation to follow through had set in. Now, no matter how obvious a failure the endeavor may become, he has no choice but to push forward with the plan.

That's why John doesn't protest when Nick suggests they go sooner than later. He probably should, because it's been too hot to dig for the past week already, but the sooner he disappoints Kim, the less disappointment he'll incur. None of them will have time to blow things out of proportion. The cache he has in mind had been buried by Jacob a little under a mile outside of town, in some unused patch of farmland. They'll be back before sundown, and the sting of returning empty-handed won't last too unbearably long.

Of course, when the morning comes to go look for the cache, John can barely manage to drag himself out of bed. If he'd thought yesterday's heat was unbearable, then he doesn't know what he'd call today. The sun has barely risen and it's already baked his room, leaving him tangled up in sweaty sheets. Summer has always been John's least favorite month, even before the Collapse, but there has to be something wrong for them to be going through a second week of a heatwave. At least blaming the nuclear apocalypse for their shitty weather makes him feel slightly better.

He can't tell if he managed to sleep, but from the way his head aches as he slowly rises, John is willing to bed he failed that task yet again. God, what he wouldn't give for some fucking Ambien. Even a good, stiff drink would help, but John's shot tolerance hasn't recovered from his last encounter for post-apocalyptic liquor, so that's out of the question. Just his luck — he's going to have to suffer a whole day around Nick without much keeping him upright.

Even in the relatively cool shade downstairs, John finds himself blinking sweat out of his eyes. It's a struggle for him to focus on anything besides how miserable he is. If only he could blame it on trauma — but no, he's just never handled prolonged heat well. Montana might not have Georgia's overwhelming humidity, but the temperature climbs twenty degrees higher, and summer out here never seems to fucking end . That, combined with his pitiful heat tolerance, is probably why he's running on maybe two hours of sleep.

There are a handful of raw carrots on his plate, next to a few strips of old jerky that even Nick is leaving for last. It's going to be a long, long day, and he's not going to be getting much else until dinner, but John can't scrounge up any sort of appetite. He hasn't been hungry for what feels like days now, and his stomach barely tolerates anything more than water.

"Hey," Carmina asks, leaning into John's peripheral vision, "Can I have that?"

John doesn't know which part of his meal she's eying, but he slides the plate her way regardless. Kim watches him do it, openly frowning at him because she's also seen him picking around his food at every meal. So far, she hasn't said anything to him about it. Why would she? His lack of an appetite means that Carmina gets to have more. She can't possibly complain about that.

Nick is more vocal about his concern, furrowing his brow as he asks for the second time this morning, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes," John replies once again. He's too tired to be exasperated, but he wishes Nick would knock it the fuck off, at least until after they leave. The last thing he needs right now is for Kim to hold some sort of intervention. Just in case, he qualifies his yes , choosing the most honest excuse he can this early in the morning. "I'm exhausted," he says. "I didn't get much sleep."

"Do you really wanna do this today, then? I mean, you said this thing was buried, and I don't wanna get stuck digging it out myself."

"I won't be any better rested tomorrow," John sighs, suppressing the yawn that tries to follow.

Nick doesn't look pleased, but he relents with a shrug. It isn't like they're going somewhere particularly dangerous, and even if they do happen to run into trouble, Fall's End will be within eyesight. The wildlife won't be much of a problem, and drifters are more common in the eastern part of the county, moving in from the 94 and occasionally trying to bully their way through. John's confident that they won't run into any trouble, even if he winds up passing out mid-dig.

John lets the rest of breakfast wash around him as he counts the minutes until they leave. He feels distinctly separated from the moment, the Rye family nothing more than white noise going in one ear and out the other. Silently dissociating around their idyllic family unit is still the norm, of course, but at least today he can blame it on too much heat and not enough sleep. Maybe he'll be able to get some rest in the truck, assuming Nick doesn't decide to test the suspension over every goddamn pothole.

Nick reluctantly says goodbye to Kim after breakfast, repeating it two or three times as Kim and Carmina see him off from the porch. John doesn't remember Nick as an anxious person; he doesn't know if there had always been long, uneasy goodbyes on the porch before work. The Collapse has turned most everybody into a paranoid mess, but maybe John just never knew Nick very well to begin with. He doesn't want to ask.

"Okay," Nick says once they're both buckled in, the windows cranked down. "You said we're looking for a silo outside of town?"

John waits until the truck lurches into drive to respond. "The silo was a convenient marker, but I doubt it's still there. I know where to look, though — assuming the landscape hasn't changed too dramatically."

"Well, let's hope so. I don't want to dig around for nothing."

"We both know who's going to be doing the digging."

"I thought it was gonna be you, until you nearly passed out at breakfast. Probably gonna leave me with the hard work like the selfish prick you are."

"I'll be fine," John replies, yawning unabashedly. He rests his head next to the open window, closing his eyes against the hot wind. "I've done more with less energy."

"Yeah, sure," Nick says, rolling his eyes hard enough that John can hear it in his voice. He waits a few beats for John to return the gentle banter, but John can't muster up the energy. He needs to save it all for the dig. It's going to be hard enough on Nick, who manages to sleep at night. John isn't expecting to have much left for anything else once this is all over. It'll be a miracle if he makes it back home.

Quickly figuring out that John isn't in the mood to talk, Nick falls quiet. There isn't a radio station to listen to, so he hums under his breath occasionally, gently swerving along the cracked asphalt to avoid potholes. He's usually happy to bounce through them, but John knows better than to think it's for his sake.

John opens his eyes briefly, just in time to see the washed out turn that once led towards the Ranch. He hasn't been back yet. He doesn't think he could bear asking the Ryes for permission, let alone see the place rotting in a field. Despite repeated assurances to Joseph that he didn't care about his stronghold, he had hand-picked the furniture, the paint, the bedding — all of it — and he had spared little expense. Now, all of his pride and poorly spent money has been abandoned, probably picked clean by scavengers over the harshest years. After all, the security systems he had dropped thousands of dollars into hadn't been able to stop a cop wielding a shotgun — he doubts they would do much to deter anybody now.

He should have listened to Jacob when he'd said it was a waste of time. Of course, John hadn't paid much attention to anything Jacob said unless it was directly related to the Project. Part of him wishes he'd made more of an effort to connect with his oldest brother, but he doubts that he would have made it to this side of the Collapse if he had.

Once he starts thinking about Jacob, it's hard to stop. It's not much of a surprise that his oldest brother is on his mind, considering how often his dreams are haunted by Jacob's presence. Thankfully, with the sun in the sky and the wind on his face, John's more inclined to remember him for who he was, instead of imagining him as the specter of his nightmares. There are no dark corners for him to lurk in, and for once John imagines him as the quiet, withdrawn man he was.

It might have been almost ten years ago, but John can still remember riding along in Jacob's truck, listening to him hum along with the radio. The heat had broken late in August that year, so while the heat had been awful when Jacob had picked him up, it hadn't wiped John completely out. Not that it would have mattered — Jacob had no patience for John's distaste of heat, and he would have forced the issue regardless.

He'd gotten a brisk call fifteen minutes before Jacob showed up at the Ranch, telling him to be ready. John hadn't known what to be ready for, but he'd stopped asking questions by this point — when Joseph or Jacob arrived unannounced, he would only follow after them and do whatever they asked. As long as he did that, they would mostly leave him to his own devices. It had been more freedom than John had ever had in his life.

"You're positive nobody saw them," Jacob reiterates from the driver's seat. The memory of his voice bounces like an echo in John's skull.

"Of course I am," John remembers saying. He remembers being exasperated. Frustrated that even Jacob didn't trust him with menial tasks anymore. He had understood Joseph's distrust, had it explained plainly to him, but Jacob wouldn't even give him the chance to earn back the trust he'd somehow managed to lose. "Not that it matters," he remembers adding. "What can they do? It's our property. We could bury a plane there and they wouldn't be able to stop us."

Jacob's heavy sigh belies his irritation. "That's not always going to be the case. We don't know how the Reaping will go. Or the Collapse. You don't know what will be the last straw."

He'd been stressed. In two weeks, the Reaping would begin, but for now, Jacob's only concern is maintaining a steady flow of willing and able soldiers. He'd been irritable all the time, ever since he and Eli had fallen out, getting short with everybody, even Joseph, who allowed Jacob to be openly insubordinate even while punishing John for the same crime. The main problem in the weeks before the Reaping had been the slowing influx of soldiers making it through the trials. Lots of people had made it through at first. Nowadays, the conversion rate has dipped significantly. Jacob says it's because the people aren't strong enough, but John has a suspicion that it might have something to do with the Bliss, which has become more potent and arguably more toxic since Rachel's arrival as Faith. John hasn't brought up his concerns yet, because nobody has bothered to ask for his opinion. He will never get the chance to find out if he was right.

"John," Jacob's voice calls from the far away driver's seat. He sounds deeply, strangely concerned. "I'm trying to save you."

The words aren't right at all. John's body feels heavy in his seat, the hot air scratching at his face through the window. Where is he? They're on their way, but where?

The next thing Jacob says is achingly familiar, down to his tired inflection. "Joseph is worried about you," he says. "He still worries about your commitment."

It had been a warning, clear as day, and at the time it had filled John with a deep dread. But now, John feels nothing. Let Joseph be disappointed in him. Let him regret ever bringing John back into his life. John hopes it's a bitter pill he chokes on.

John had been on the defensive that day, scoffing loudly and snapping, "And yet, I'm the one converting the faithless." But the defensiveness is missing in the words. The people he'd been using like points against his brother are all dead now, and bragging about the things he'd done only roils his stomach.

"I don't think it's about converting people." Jacob reaches for the rear-view mirror, checking it for the umpteenth time as the truck trundles towards the distant silo. "Forget the religious bullshit for a minute. What we're doing, what's going to happen — we can't afford mistakes. We have to be prepared for every possibility. You understand that, don't you?"

"Nobody saw them," John sighs. "I promise ."

"Good," Jacob mutters. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out.

"Honestly, though. There are caches all over the county. I don't remember you being so particular about the last dozen drop points I organized."

At first, Jacob hadn't responded. John had thought at the time that it was because he was tired of having to explain his every move to someone as soft and short-sighted as John. He'd figured, as he always had, that Jacob saw him as nothing but the PR arm of the Project, kept around out of blood loyalty and nothing else. He would grimace whenever John mentioned atonement, mentioned his hard work, and John had suspected he thought it was beneath him.

But now John wonders if that's all there was to it.

"I'm trying to cover for every possibility," Jacob says. "That's all. It'd be good if you could help me."

"I did help," John retorts. "I do help. I do everything Joseph asks me to, and I don't complain about it. I don't complain when you order my men and me around, either, even though that was never part of the deal."

Jacob clicks his tongue against his teeth. He's checking the mirrors again, all of them. John remembers him checking the glove-box during their conversation, but he doesn't do that now. It hadn't mattered — there hadn't been anything in there — but John remembers it being very, very strange. The glove-box hangs open for a moment in his memory, as he looks through the windshield and spots the tall, bright red silo down the road.

"I wish you would plan ahead for yourself," Jacob says at last. "Stop taking orders and start taking initiative."

John huffs. "You've seen how well Joseph responds to that."

"Yeah," Jacob replies. John had been too arrogant to realize at the time that Jacob was commiserating with him, leaving him feeling deeply guilty now.

"He's convinced that the Reaping is going to begin any time now," John continues, ignoring Jacob's visible-in-hindsight unease. "Do we really have time to be burying barrels of ammunition? Or is this your newest plan to stick it to Eli?"

"It's for after the Reaping," Jacob says.

"A whole lot of good it does us this far from the bunkers."

Jacob had a real response for John, once. It had even satisfied him, at least enough to stop his complaining. But John doesn't remember what Jacob's reasoning had been; all he has is his exhausted brain struggling to stitch together the memory.

"There's so much you don't know. That you'll never find out." Jacob reaches out, his hand resting on John's shoulder, but there's no physical connection. John can't feel the weight of his hand, and for a dizzying moment the world around him turns smudged and blurry. There's a distinct melancholy in the words that Jacob never exhibited. "You know that I didn't believe any of it."

The weight on his shoulder comes out of nowhere, startling John awake as Nick calls his name. He kicks the dashboard as he jolts upright, and Nick leans back as he flings his hands out to steady himself.

"Shit," he gasps, grabbing the door handle. One disorienting glance is all John needs to realize where he is; Nick has pulled up just past the church, and the late summer heat of the apocalyptic landscape reasserts itself as reality once more.

"Sorry," Nick says. "I just, uh... need some directions from here."

"Yes," John replies. The urge to bolt from the truck is overwhelming, but John clings to the door and manages to stay in his seat. "Of course."

They sit for a minute before Nick awkwardly prompts, "Uh... Well?"

John desperately attempts to reorient himself, still stuck in the fog of his dream. "There should be a left turn up ahead. The silo was in a field on the right side of the road, just before the turnout before Larry Parker's house."

"God, talk about whack-jobs," Nick mutters as he pulls ahead. The intersection is mostly washed out now, barely distinguishable from the dunes that have formed over the fields, but Nick has a local's muscle memory. "I mean, I believe in aliens as much as the next guy, but Jesus . You hear what happened to him?"

"Not specifically. I assumed he was killed in the Reaping or the Collapse." Despite himself, John finds his curiosity piqued. "Why? Was I wrong?"

"I mean... I guess it's up to your interpretation." Nick doesn't bother to ease around the potholes now that John is awake, bumping them down along the cracked asphalt. "So, the way Dep told me, they went to go check up on Larry, y'know, make sure he's okay. Larry's got his weird-ass machines going, and he's talkin' about aliens and shit, as he usually is, and Dep keeps going, 'Larry, there's no time for aliens, there are cultists coming for you!' But, of course Larry pushes the point until Dep caves, like, 'Fine, let's fix the generator first, then we can run from the cult.'

"Except the cult rolled up right on top of them before they could patch everything up. Of course, Dep manages to clear them out, and Larry gets his machine working in the meantime. He says, 'help me get to Mars, Deputy!' and they figure, 'hey, might as well humor him.' I mean, what else can you do when the guy you're trying to evacuate insists he's got a fast pass to outer space?"

"Is this honestly what the Deputy was dealing with while we were in the middle of seizing the Valley and its resources?" John asks. He probably shouldn't be surprised, but really . Larry Parker's life couldn't possibly have been worth all the effort involved.

"I guess," Nick shrugs. "People were asking them to do all sorts of weird shit. So, anyway, Larry says so long to Dep and to Earth, and tells Dep to flip the switch. Dep decides that the sooner Larry realizes this isn't going to work, the better, so they turn the machine on the way Larry told them to, and, well, long story short, I guess the thing vaporized the poor guy."

However the story was supposed to end, that hadn't been what John expected. His disbelief is momentarily overwhelming, and he can't help but choke out, " Excuse me?"

Nick shrugs. "I mean, that's what Dep told me later. They were real bummed out about it, too. I guess that makes sense, since they felt responsible. But, at the same time... he said it was a teleporter, right? So maybe he wasn't vaporized at all. Maybe he really did get zapped to Mars."

"The choices are 'vaporized' or 'teleported to Mars'? Are you serious?"

"I guess Dep could have been bullshitting me, but it fits with what I remember about the guy."

John frowns. "I suppose either option is better than what happened to the rest of us," he says, "Although realistically, the man was one paranoid delusion away from assassinating a government official. I don't think he was nearly as technologically savvy as he professed himself to be."

"He wasn't that bad," Nick says as he shakes his head. "He was just some kook who believed in aliens more than people. And, well... I mean, if he really did make it to Mars, then we probably look like a bunch of assholes from wherever he's sitting." He sighs, then admits, "I wish I could've gone to Mars. I bet Kim would like it there."

" Why ?"

"I dunno, she always wanted to go on foreign trips and stuff. Can't get much more foreign than outer space." He hums thoughtfully, then says, "I guess she would've been pregnant, though, and if you can't fly with a pregnant lady, I bet you can't vaporize them either."

John takes a deep breath through his nose before he responds, reminding himself that he owes Nick his life. "That's a logical assumption," he manages to say, proud of his nearly-neutral delivery.

"Oh, shut up," Nick snaps, although he doesn't seem particularly upset by John's back-talk. "I'm just saying, if that's what would happen. It's not like I'm gonna go hot-wire the thing and test it out now ."

"I certainly hope not. There's no way I'm explaining that to the bloodthirsty mob that comes for me after you've disintegrated."

They've nearly reached the end of the road. John can see the T-shaped intersection coming up ahead, but he doesn't immediately recognize the right-hand field. A copse of pine trees have put down roots, and although John can see the skeletal framework of the hay storage, there's no sign of the silo that once marked the spot. John doesn't know if it was destroyed during the Reaping or in the Collapse. It doesn't really matter — everything it held has long since rotted away.

"Here?" Nick asks as they roll to the end of the road. John remembers Jacob slowing along the empty field; he had barely come to a stop to investigate the location. It had been around here that Jacob had checked the tilled soil for any hint at what lay underneath. He'd seemed content with how John's people had handled it, leaving the field as unassuming and untouched as they had found it.

If there had been any hint left behind in the silo or the hay storage, it's been wiped from the face of the planet. Long, sun-bleached panels of what used to be a silo lay scattered across the ground, weather-beaten past their use. Some pieces are pinned in place by the nine-year tree growth, never to be moved again. It's a struggle for John to envision the spot as it used to be, but there's no doubt that this is the right place.

"Yes," John says. "This is it."

Nick puts the truck in park and climbs out of the cab. John waits a moment longer, hoping to spot some hidden bump or curve that would indicate where to dig, but of course nothing reveals itself. He should have paid more attention. At the very least, he should have paid more attention to Jacob's diatribes about preparedness. Maybe he would be able to determine exactly where to start if he had.

John's nerves ease as he steps out of the car and stands at the edge of the worn-out road. It doesn't matter if he doesn't remember the exact spot — there's always been an element of gut instinct in understanding Jacob's methods, and John has plenty of that to rely on in lieu of real information. If he has to waste his time out here, then he might as well try to waste it productively.

He meanders a bit along the shoulder, then takes ten paces onto the field. Instinct has him go another twenty steps, until he's halfway between the truck and the hay storage. "Here, I think," he calls out to Nick, who's wandered ahead to explore the wreckage.

"Are you sure?" Nick asks as he passes John, returning to the truck for the shovels. "I don't wanna be digging holes all day like some kind of Stanley Yelnats."

" I'll be the one digging," John replies tepidly. "I don't need your help."

"What else am I gonna do, sit around and watch you all day? C'mon, let's get to work."

Really, John had expected as much. Nick can't leave things alone, and he can't resist giving whatever help he can. Long ago, John had figured it was a sign of Nick's obsessive need for control, something dark to be manipulated hidden under a folksy veneer. He had never considered that Nick's stubborn helpfulness had really been a coping mechanism for some long-standing anxiety. Even now, knowing full well that Nick's biggest worry is seeming unhelpful, John struggles to accept it. It still rubs him the wrong way when Nick insists on giving him a hand on some menial task that he ordered John to do in the first place.

Digging a three-foot hole is easier with two people, though, so of course John doesn't argue. The two of them hit a rhythm pretty quickly, although John's lack of sleep is slowing him down. Normally, the beat of manual labor is the only thing that helps empty out his mind, getting him as close to meditation as possible these days. For the first few months with the Ryes, it had been the only tangible comfort he had. He could disengage mentally while performing simple tasks with visible results, then ascribe to them penance for any one of his crimes. Even now, John can't help but wonder which sin he's paying for as he buries the spade into the ground.

They dig three feet down before John calls it. "Okay, fine ," he hisses through gritted teeth. "It's close to here. Maybe..."

John ignores Nick's theatrical sigh as he takes a few paces to the left and begins all over again. Of course, it doesn't take long before Nick joins back in.

"Maybe we should hunt down a metal detector," Nick suggests when the second hole reveals nothing.

"Sure, Nick," John snaps, "Add that to the other rational shit on your wife's shopping list."

"Jesus, it was just a joke."

John is far too hot, tired and sweaty to handle any jokes right now, much less from somebody he's trying to help. If Nick thinks John is digging around under the blazing sun just for his own enjoyment, then he can go fuck himself.

Even with John's attitude tanking rapidly, Nick continues to help him dig another hole and a half. His help only makes the defeat sting worse when John has finally had enough. He has no energy left, which makes flopping down on the dirt as easy as giving up. He buries his sweaty, sunburned face into his dirty hands, unable to hold back a groan.

"God damn it."

"What, that's it?" Nick huffs, pushing his hat back to wipe at his sweating forehead. He's using his shovel as a prop, and no amount of bravado can hide how much John's wild goose chase has worn him down. "You're just giving up?"

" No ," John spits, despite that being exactly what he's doing. "I just need a fucking break ."

There was a time when Nick would have punched him for being so miserable, but he doesn't even comment on it today. Somehow, it manages to make John feel worse, as though Nick's pity is fueling his fiery self-loathing. Nothing helps, especially not when Nick jabs his shovel into the dirt and offers John an excuse. "Probably need something to eat," he says. "Some water, or something. Look... just stay there, okay? I got a canteen in the truck, it'll just take a second."

The most response John can offer up is an affirmative grunt. He drops his hands from his face, watching Nick retreat to the truck before turning his eyes on the derelict storage in the opposite direction. He should have known better. He should have known that it would be impossible to find the cache without Jacob's help. Other than a set of probably mis-remembered coordinates and a gut sensation of being so close , John is flying completely blind. Why the hell hadn't he known any better? He could have saved them the time, gas and disappointment, if only he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut.

He guesses it must be progress that he's blaming himself and not Kim, whose insomnia kicked this whole thing off. It doesn't feel like much to show.

The wind changes direction, finally sending the few clouds in the sky drifting past the sun. The breeze picks up, sending a ripple of noise through the young pines. Pink-flowered vines creep through the roots of the trees and up the metal legs of the shed, twisting and choking the rest of the weeds just like they do everywhere else. Despite them being a mysterious, invasive species, they soften the landscape, lending a pink sugar-coating to the wasteland. John watches the blossoms bob in the breeze and thinks that Joseph might have been wrong about a lot of things, but he hadn't been too far off in declaring Hope County a promising garden.

The flowers look so much like the ones that had decorated the hem of Faith's dress that it's impossible not to think about her. John remembers the silk blossoms stitched onto lace, trying to conceal the ripped hem. There had been a dozen women who had tried to take on the mantle left behind by Joseph's wife, but now the only one John can imagine is Rachel, dancing in the sunlight. Even now he sees her swaying along with the wind, although he only has to blink for the vision to fade. A dozen women hadn't made the same impression that Rachel had. They hadn't been as proactive as her when it came to the Path, and they couldn't hold a candle to her wide-eyed understanding of the Bliss. None of them had adopted themselves as a sister into the family, turning quickly into the golden child that Joseph could praise over all others. They'd tried to fill the shoes of a dead woman that they couldn't hold a candle to. Rachel had been much, much smarter than that.

After all, none of those women haunt the landscape the way Rachel does. John, tired as he is, can almost hear her playfully humming on the breeze. She would sing in his bunker, vibrant and full-throated hymns written by dead followers, but now he only ever imagines the quietest tunes. Faith always seemed to be everywhere at once, thanks to the Bliss, but now she only seems to exist where John's memory allows.

Although the music fades as quickly as it came, John feels it echoing inside him. He closes his eyes against the bright afternoon light, but that doesn't do much to ease the pounding headache that's swiftly developing. He can feel his pulse against the hard-packed dirt when he drops his hands to the ground. Faith's laughter in his mind is quiet and playfully condescending as he's overwhelmed by the urge to stagger to the safety of the trees.

Nick abruptly appears in front of John, his worried face hidden under his hat. "Let's get you into the shade," he says, his voice warped by the blood rushing through John's ears. Nothing improves as Nick helps him to his feet and drags him under the shady pines. His head pounds as he collapses against one of the trees; when Nick puts the canteen in his hands, he takes a few grateful pulls of warm water until the headache begins to recede.

"Goddamn it, John," Nick says. "You have got to knock this shit off. You can't keep pushing yourself until you get sick. What am I supposed to do if you get heatstroke? Do you think we have unlimited supplies to keep dealing with your bullshit? I can't keep taking care of you."

"Whatever," John croaks. "I'm fine. I just need a minute."

"You can't seriously think I'm going to let you keep going. You must be delirious."

Taking one more long drink of water, John finally drops the canteen into his lap. "You don't understand," he rasps. "I'm not — it's here. I know it is, I just..."

Nick waits a beat before he takes up where John trails off. " You need to rest. You think Kim and I don't notice you're not eating or sleeping again? Hell, even Carmina notices, and she doesn't give a shit about you. How exactly are you supposed to be any use to us if you're like this all the time?"

John scowls, but he doesn't respond. How can he? Nick is right.

When all he gets is silence, Nick finally heaves a tired sigh and crouches down to John's level. "Look, we'll compromise, okay?" he suggests, with a tone he usually reserves for Carmina. "You're gonna rest here for me, and I'm gonna go dig another hole for you. If I don't find anything, we'll go back home and try again once you're better prepared."

He should resent Nick for treating him like a child, but John can only surrender with a weary nod. "I promise it's here," he says, hating how audible his misery is. "I know it is."

Nick scratches his brow. "I believe you," he says, although John doubts his sincerity. "We're gonna find it — maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but we'll do it. You, uh, want me to keep digging where we were, or..."

John sighs, slumping against the tree. "Yeah," he rasps. "Sure."

It's a miserable feeling, knowing that he's sending Nick on a wild goose chase, but John doesn't stop the other man from heading back out into the sun. He watches Nick pick a spot at seemingly random, drifting in and out as he waits for Nick to give up. He wouldn't even have to dig a full three feet before writing the whole thing off as one of John's delusions. John wishes Nick were that kind of man.

There's nothing there. That much is obvious when Nick finally stops digging, knee-deep in the hole and scrubbing furiously at his forehead. John knows just enough about Nick to suspect he'd genuinely hoped to find it — which just makes the defeat that much worse. John is used to disappointing himself, but letting Nick down stings.

"It's fine," John rasps when Nick returns, not waiting for platitudes or empty reassurances. "Let's just go."

Nick helps John to his feet again, and to make things worse, he keeps making suggestions. "Maybe we can find a tractor that still works. I bet there's probably a back-hoe somewhere in the county we could fix up. That might make it easier, right?"

They cut through the trees to reach the road, and John covers his eyes as they move back into the bright light. He turns back to look at the empty holes they've left behind — and for just a second, he can clearly see the bright red silo where it once stood. It's only a fleeting glimpse of the past, but it's as clear as if he were staring at it from Jacob's truck, enjoying the air conditioning while ignoring Jacob as he says, "So long as we're prepared, we can always start again."

"Wait," John says. "Hold on."

"Come on," Nick groans loudly, "It's hot, I'm tired, and this is getting depressing ."

John rolls his eyes, grabbing one of the shovels from the truck before Nick can stop him. "Fine," he says, "Go home, then."

"For God's sake..."

John ignores Nick as he takes five quick paces forward, turning and staring at the nonexistent silo. It hadn't been here, it had been...

The spot is mostly random, but as John drives the shovel into the dirt, he feels suddenly vindicated . He'd been thrown off by the trees, and it's hard to see just where the road ends these days, and of course he doesn't have the silo's long shadow to guide him. But now he knows better, and he isn't going to make the same mistakes again.

Nick pitches in, because of course he does. Even worse, he does it without complaint. Still, John needs the help; his burst of adrenaline has faded, leaving him to rapidly flag behind until Nick is picking up his slack. They don't talk as they dig, even as time wears on without any indication of them being in the right place. John doesn't think he has the energy to chat, and Nick probably just wants to yell at him, so silence is their best option. This hole could be as pointless as every other one they've dug today, but blind faith pushes John on to dig just a little deeper, just a little longer.

They hit three feet without finding anything. John twists the shovel between his palms, the tip churning the dirt.

"Okay, now are you satisfied?" Nick asks, flopping to the ground beside their latest waste of time. "Are you ready to wrap it up for today, or...?"

John shakes his head, not even realizing he's doing it. He doesn't even know what he's rejecting — the idea of giving up, or the idea that they might come back out here? Why the hell should they? Just because John thinks he might remember a cache of weapons Jacob buried a decade ago? What good would it even do, finding it now? Kim's already made it clear that they don't want more weapons. They want food, they want peace of mind, they want things to be the way they were . There is nothing that Eden's Gate could possibly give them that could help.

Nick slides closer, brow furrowed. "John," he says."

"I know ," John snaps, "I'm sorry . This was a waste of time. Forget it."

Picking up his abandoned shovel, Nick jabs the scoop into the hole, aiming for the wall beneath John's feet, and the motion is met with a metallic thunk . As John steps around for a better look, Nick taps the shovel upwards, until the scoop slides between the flash of half-hidden metal and the undisturbed earth above it. There's no mistaking the green enamel barrel that's revealed as the dirt falls away.

Dropping into the hole, John takes Nick's shovel and begins to heave the dirt away, scraping the scoop along the sides of the metal container until it's half-exposed in the ground. John can't help a triumphant shout as he reveals it, like a paleontologist discovering an unknown species.

Nick grabs the second shovel and pitches in, making short work of the dirt John can't reach. The steel drum is two feet tall and a foot or so wide, and John recognizes it from the Bliss packaging plant. Thankfully, it doesn't have a tight-head lid that implies the cannister is full of drugs. It looks utterly untouched, save for a few scratches from their shovels; the rubber sealant sprayed around the lid hasn't even cracked.

"Well, shit," Nick says, staring down at the barrel in open disbelief.

"I told you," John pants, vindicated. "I told you."

"Yeah, you sure did," Nick agrees, bobbing his head. "So... uh, what now? Do we open it up here, or take it home?"

John runs a hand over the glossy paint. As much as he wants to open it now, he can't help but remember Jacob's paranoia, reminded momentarily of how he had checked over and over for any spies or tails they might've gained while driving.

"It might be best to take it somewhere... less open," John points out. "We have no idea what's inside."

"Oh. Yeah, you're probably right."

It takes some finessing, but the two of them manage to wrestle the barrel out of the hole and, eventually, into the truck bed. Nick cranks the air conditioning as soon as he turns on the car, and John thankfully slumps into his seat as the cold air washes over him. After making a loose U-turn that narrowly misses the hole, Nick shakes the canteen in John's direction.

"Kim's gonna be pissed if she finds out I left you out in the sun like that," he says. "Try to get a hold of yourself before we get back, okay?"

Nick is terrible at sounding callous, but John isn't going to tell him as much. "Don't worry," he sighs. "I don't want her to know any more than you."

The drive back is mostly free of potholes, thanks to Nick's careful driving. John can't help but reaffirm the cache's existence every few minutes, checking the rear-view mirror to ensure it hasn't fallen out or disappeared like so many figments of his imagination have. He wonders what's inside. Certainly ammunition and weapons, but what else? Jacob had always been prepared for disasters, so it could have emergency kits or expired food rations. There will probably be money, too, although that won't help them now.

If Nick is also wondering, he keeps it to himself. He's relaxed in his seat, one arm hanging out his window, fingers occasionally tapping aimlessly against the door. He'll probably be satisfied no matter what Jacob decided to squirrel away, so long as it's not rotten food and Project propaganda. If that turns out to be the case, John will burn the contents himself.

The sun has half-set by the time they return to the Rye homestead. Nobody is waiting anxiously for their return, but it doesn't take long for Kim to come around the side of the house. She whistles appreciatively as the two men maneuver the barrel out of the bed.

"You guys actually found it!" she exclaims. "I thought it would take at least a few days."

"We got lucky," Nick replies. He doesn't mention how many holes they had to dig, or how rough the going had gotten near the end. John hopes that he looks better than he feels, at least to keep Kim from lecturing them.

Even though the cache is only about eighty or ninety pounds, it takes some careful footwork for the two men to carry it inside without dropping it. By the time they set the barrel down next to the table, Carmina has claimed one of the chairs, standing on it for a better look. Nick doubles back to the truck and returns with a crowbar, which will hopefully be enough to pry off the lid.

"What's inside?" Carmina asks, grabbing the back of the chair as she cranes forward.

"Well, hold on," Nick sighs, "Let me figure this out."

Unlike the barrels John remembers, this one isn't sealed with a tight-head valve at the top. Instead, it looks as though the lid had been hammered down into place, and then sprayed with rubber sealant to prevent gaps. It takes Nick a few tries to bury the crowbar's teeth under the lid, but he's rewarded by a satisfying groan of metal. The seal finally gives as part of the lid warps under the force.

Nick peels the lid back and John's heart leaps into his throat. Part of him expects a cloud of Bliss, or some kind of bomb, or a countdown to a new Armageddon. But there's no bomb, no Mist, no doomsday clock. Instead, John finds himself looking down at a bundle of nondescript green canvas, packed tightly alongside a cylindrical nylon bag.

" Well ?" Carmina asks.

John glances at Kim and Nick, only to find them staring back at him. It's as much an order as a request for help, and John steels himself before reaching in and grabbing the fabric. He recognizes the generic duffel bag as soon as he pulls it out — they had been ordered in bulk for the Project before they'd even reached Montana. While it isn't full, it definitely carries most of the cache's weight, and John has to adjust his grip as he sets it out on the table.

With the pack out of the way, Nick is less cautious about poking around in the remaining supplies. He takes the nylon bag out next, rattling the contents thoughtfully. "I think we've got a tent, here," he says, pulling open the drawstring to check. "Yeah, poles, stakes and everything."

There are two cardboard boxes inside, and Kim pulls out one at a time. "I think these are... rations?" she suggests, setting the boxes down next to the unopened bag. "That's what the packaging says, anyway. And this one, the heavier one? It's completely taped up."

"Could be dangerous," Nick suggests as Kim goes back to check for any remaining contents.

John stares at the duffel bag, his fingers feeling clumsy on the zipper tab. None of this feels right. Just how many times had he seen Jacob take bags like this one to his truck? How many of those had been full of supplies for a back-up plan he had never been made aware of? There's no sign of the Project so far, but John can't imagine that will last. What is he going to do when he reveals a bag full of propaganda in front of Carmina? There's no way Kim and Nick will believe he didn't know.

Careful not to rip the fabric, John steels himself with a breath and yanks on the zipper. He expects guns and ammunition, or copies of Joseph's book, or intel that would have been vital for rebuilding after the Collapse. Instead, John finds silver mylar bags, packed nearly to bursting, each one labeled in permanent marker. One reads "RICE (3LB, KEEP)," while another says "POTATO (.5LB, KEEP)" — and still another bag, this one with one clear side, has two cartons of instant coffee sealed inside.

There are guns, too, although not nearly enough. John is careful as he sets out the two .45 pistols tucked into the canvas, along with two boxes of matching ammunition and a few more boxes of miscellaneous shells that might come in handy. He inspects every box for any sign of the Project, but everything is utterly nondescript. Jacob might as well have picked these supplies up at a sporting goods store.

He keeps pulling things out until the bag is empty and the items are laid out across the table for the Ryes to see. Not only does John find more food, but he also finds a crank flashlight and a pair of binoculars, two bundles of paracord, a roll of unused duct tape, two sealed cartons of cigarettes, two pristine hunting knives and a deck of playing cards. The biggest surprise is the fact that Jacob risked packing away two bottles of unlabeled alcohol in a dry cache, but then again, Jacob had always had a soft spot for liquor. They'd been wrapped in plastic wrap and taped up tight, so if they leaked, it hasn't affected the other supplies.

There's more food than ammunition, John realizes. Rice, sugar, instant coffee, dry beef stock, not to mention the miscellaneous array of military rations that have been packed into every nook and cranny. It's hardly a cache. It's more like a squirrel's stockpile for a long winter.

"Did you guys see this?" Kim asks, leaning over Carmina to lay a small nylon pack on the table. She opens it carefully, revealing a tri-folded emergency pack stuffed with medical supplies. One use antiseptic wipes, gauze, bandages and more, all still in its factory packaging. John remembers seeing them stocked at Lorna's ages ago. It's the kind of emergency kit that tourists would buy once they realized just how unprepared they were for rural Montana.

"I thought this was supposed to be for the cult," Nick says, frowning at the supplies spread out on the table. "But most of this is stuff you'd get at the store. There's not even one of those fake Bibles in here or anything ."

"That's what he told me it was," John replies, although it feels uneasily close to a lie. "...At least, that's what I assumed. He had my people handle it, he shared its location with me... It had to be for the Project." Saying it aloud doesn't make him feel any more certain, but he can't imagine what else Jacob could have been planning. "What does it matter?" he quickly deflects, gesturing towards the eighty-some pounds of supplies. "Who cares what he was planning. It's yours now."

Unlike her parents, Carmina doesn't need to be told twice. She immediately drags the box of military rations closer to her chair, eager to devour any new literature, even if it's nutritional information and website reviews. Nick takes one of the knives and uses it to slice open the heavily taped box that they still haven't investigated. John can't imagine that it could be anything dangerous, given the rest of the cache's contents, but that doesn't mean he's any less on edge.

"Uh... huh," Nick says once he finally cracks the box open. "It's just more of the same. 'Two pounds rice, barter.' 'Two pounds sugar, barter.' But didn't he already pack some rice in the bag?"

Carmina points her finger at the offending bag. "It says 'keep' on it."

"I thought you guys were going to be the only survivors," Nick wonders, frowning heavily at John. "I mean, those weirdos have been keeping to themselves since they came back. And I got the impression that you weren't gonna be friendly neighbors ."

"There weren't supposed to be neighbors," John replies. "Anyone outside of the Project who survived were our enemies. This should have been..." He gestures helplessly, unable to figure out what Jacob should have squirreled away for the end of the world. "It should have been weapons. Project intelligence. None of this would have mattered if things had gone the way they were meant to. I don't — I don't know what he was planning with this."

Or maybe, he hadn't been listening when Jacob had talked about starting over.

"This... is too much," Kim says, tearing John away from that horrible thought before it can take hold. "Right? This is too much for us. We can't possibly keep it all."

"Excuse me?" John asks, unable to mask how deeply the comment offends him. "You're joking . I went through all of this for you ." He points at the sugar, the salt, and says accusingly, "These were on your list!"

"That's not what I mean, John."

John is getting sick and tired of being treated like a child today, but that doesn't mean he appreciates it when Nick takes the opposite route. "Don't be a baby," he groans. "You know what she meant."

"We'll keep what we need," Kim offers, "But we can't keep everything . It wouldn't be fair."

"And it'll look bad if we're the only ones who benefit," Nick adds. "They'll know it's because of you, and the cult, and they'll get the wrong idea. They might've shut up for now, but we don't know how long that'll last."

It's hard to fight the urge to run from the conversation, if only to keep himself from saying something stupid, but John manages to stay rooted to the spot. They're right, after all. They can't expect other people to turn a blind eye to anything beneficial John provides. Hell, he has no doubt somebody noticed them driving today. Somebody had to have seen them out in the dirt. It would only take a quick trip to find the holes they'd left behind.

"Yes," he mutters at last. It comes as a relief, followed immediately by his own admission. "You're both right. I know that."

Nick clearly expected more of a fight, if his relieved expression is anything to go by. "Good. Okay." He grabs one of the mylar bags as he sits, which holds two cartons of instant coffee. For a moment, he only stares at the red plastic through the clear side of the bag, and then he sighs. "Of course, now I wanna keep it all."

"We can keep the coffee," Kim says. "Or, well... we can keep some of it. We should probably give the rest up..."

It seems that doing the right thing in this situation has left the Ryes at a loss. Really, it shouldn't be a surprise. Even for a small cache, these are a lot of supplies, and there are no clear benefits to divvying it up in any particular way. On top of that, there had never been much structure to the Valley's resistance — unlike the Whitetails, people in the valley had relied on guerrilla tactics and appropriating the cult's infrastructure for their own use. The fight here had been over before they'd had time to organize.

"Well, I guess we give away whatever says 'barter' on it," Nick finally says. "And... I dunno. I mean, Jacob was meticulous as hell, right? Wouldn't he have known what to keep? Why did he only want to trade this stuff?"

"I don't know ," John snaps. "It isn't as though he planned for this. I have no idea what he would have done. I don't know why he thought to bury this shit in a field! If this was going to be a backup plan, then there should be money, passports, blackmail — something to help him get out of trouble. Not — not cooking supplies and playing cards . This isn't what he was supposed to be doing with his time!"

The realization that John had never really known Jacob cuts deeper than he'll ever admit. John breathes hard through his nose, trying desperately to grab hold of his ballooning anger. He'd known Jacob hadn't taken the religious aspect of the Project seriously, but that hadn't meant he didn't believe in the Project's end goal. He'd been more integral to their success than John, for God's sake! The bunkers had been his idea!

But Jacob had been pragmatic. If he had felt even a twinge of doubt, he would have made plans to account for it. But if that were the case, why would he have shown his hand to John like he had, when John had been so deeply entrenched? Why risk Joseph finding out? Why not play this as close to his chest as John had played all of his own secret betrayals?

"I don't know what he would do," John manages to say. There's a tangled knot of emotion balled up inside his chest, but like so many other things, he forcibly sidelines it. "It doesn't matter what he wanted. He's dead now. All of it is yours."

Kim hears his voice catch, it's clear from her expression, but she thankfully doesn't comment on it. "Well, let's think about it logically," she says. "For one, I think Grace could use some of the ammunition. She might appreciate some coffee, too, Nick."

"Yeah, I guess," Nick says mournfully. "There are two boxes, after all."

Kim chews thoughtfully on her lip, then pivots towards John. "You had to deal with directing resources, right?" she asks. "I remember all of the deliveries coming in and out of the Ranch."

"They won't trust any decisions I make," John replies, trying to cut the suggestion off at the head.

"I'm sure they wouldn't, but I'm not asking for you to make a decision. Just... You know more about this than we do, and I want your input."

John frowns, looking towards Nick for an objection. Unfortunately, Nick doesn't have one, although he doesn't look happy about Kim's request.

Sighing, John considers the groups they need to satisfy. Between Grace, the town, the trailer park and themselves, it's unlikely they'll have much to store, but a surplus would be ideal in case they need to bargain with people coming in from the west. John doesn't like the idea of giving the weapons away, but they would be an easy way to ingratiate the Ryes to anyone still upset at them for taking him in. He wants nothing more than to keep the alcohol and cigarettes, but those would be better as bargaining chips.

He starts by breaking the ammunition up, followed by the mylar bags, until the random array on the tabletop begins to separate out into four distinct piles. Seeing the resources shift in real time is the easiest way to ensure things are balanced, but John remains fully aware of the three sets of eyes on him as he begins to take over the table. While Kim and Carmina move to give John more space, Nick remains seated the entire time, his arms crossed and his eyes on the food that John is moving from one pile to another. He's clearly worried that the family will wind up with too little. He probably feels guilty that he wants to take more from others who could use the supplies.

When he's mostly finished, John has five piles organized across the table — one for each group, plus one comprised of larger bags they'll need to separate. Hopefully, they won't comment on how much he's chosen to keep for them — if they disagree with his decisions, they can wait until he escapes for the night to argue about it.

Kim had been right, though. John had been the one to schedule deliveries, redirect supplies and organize Reaping trucks; hopefully they can appreciate his choices, even if they decide not to listen to him.

"Here's what we have," he says. "The ammunition is split between everyone, as well as the rations. Given the town's location and size, they'll be better off with basic ingredients. They already have hunting equipment and usable cookware. We haven't seen the trailer park, but it's in hostile territory, and I don't think they dedicate time to cooking, so we give them more rations to make up for it. The cigarettes will be a gesture of goodwill, and they can use the sugar more than any one group. At the very least, it means they won't be ingesting straight ethanol for a few days."

Nick sniffs loudly, but neither he nor Kim interrupt, so John pushes forward. "You keep the components," he explains, "But give Grace the knives and whatever ammunition she needs. We can split the rice evenly, but it won't be very much. It would be better to keep it for ourselves, or else give it to one group alone."

"Still seems like a lot is left for us," Kim points out.

"Then you give the rest of it away," John says through gritted teeth. "I did what you asked me to do. This is what makes sense."

Kim nods. "You did, and I appreciate it."

John wishes she would appreciate what Jacob did instead, but he holds the comment back. It's his exhaustion talking, or the long day, or the lingering headache from the heat. None of those things are worth risking the shred of goodwill he's garnered with the Ryes. And the longer he hangs around here, the more likely it is that Nick or Kim will do something to really upset him.

"If that's everything, then it's been a long day. I need some..." Space , he wants to say, but he can only tiredly commit to, "I need some air."

"Sure," Kim says. She tries to mask her pity, but there's no hiding it. "Just don't go too far. Dinner's almost ready."

As if John is going to eat anything. But he keeps that comment to himself as well, knowing that it'll just start a fight that he's too tired to win. Besides, watching the Ryes go through Jacob's supplies and divvy them out the way they'd prefer might be too much for him to handle right now. He needs to put some distance between himself and his brother, even if it's only the short walk to the front porch.

[ifandomalot]

Unspoken thing.

Summary: frank doesn’t understand why you would want someone like him.

A chilly breeze hit her skin admitting goosebumps on the bare skin of her arms. In seconds she was up looking for the cause of her chilly apartment. The large T-shirt was the only thing she wore, leaving her thighs exposed to the opened window in her living room.

It wasn’t opened by her because she would never open that one because it has easy excess from the building lifts. Quickly she reaches for the closest object she could find, which happened to be a book. The squeaking of pipes through her thin walls told her someone was in her bathroom using the sink.

Slowly she tip toes across the room , the opening revealing the blood on her bathroom door. After gathering all of the courage and raising her book high in the air she pushed the door open. A sigh of relief leaves her lips as the other side showed only Frank with a shit eating grin.

“What are you doing to do? give me a paper cut to death?” The smirk on his face said it all. His bruised and battered face told explained the reasoning for the blood smeared on the door.

“shut up. you’re cleaning the blood off the door frankie.” She rolls her eyes, throwing the book on the stand next to her, she steps back a few inches taking in his appearance. The gash on the side of his head was easily visible through the small hairs of his head. It was always like this, there was an unspoken thing between the two of them, a mutual agreement of friendship, even though both sides wanted more. Despite how much he wouldn’t admit it, he will never confess the feelings he has for the solemn reason that everyone who gets close to him dies. He comes between jobs, always making it a point to see her at least once a week, make her dinner and just hold her.

The life he lives doesn’t leave much time for human contact unless it’s his hands squeezing the life out of someone. Frank tells himself constantly that being with her is dangerous, that he will lead nothing but death. Before stumbling into this apartment, he had been fighting himself for days not to come here, not to inconvenience her life again, because of the way he feels, but despite the inner battle he couldn’t help but see her face one more time, just in case something happens to him.

“Oh, c’mon sweetheart, why do you look so mad?”

“I’m mad because you just come in through my window of all places, instead of knocking on the door like a normal person and because you left it open, it’s freezing in here.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up is all hun.” He smirks softly, looking her body up and down. “And I can tell.” 

Her mouth falls agape as she covers her hard nipples by crossing her arms against her breast. “Pervert.”

“How can I not be with you walking around in that?” She rolls her eyes as his playfulness, knowing he was only joking, despite how much they wanted each other, it was completely off limits.

She enters her bedroom finding a pair pajama pants from her drawer. “Oh speaking of windows. What did I tell you about locking the goddamn windows, huh?”

“Well I got you to protect me.” When he enters her bedroom, he looks much better, all the blood is cleaned from his face and neck, the gash across the side of his head stitched only leaving the dark bruises around his eyes.

“I’m flattered, really sweetheart.” He sarcastically mumbles, pulling the shirt matted with blood from his body and digging in his drawer. He would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel some type of way, knowing she goes out and buys him clean clothes, and denying his money everyday he offers some for them.

Before Frank can even say a word, Y/N turned allowing him the privacy to strip down, he was quick slipping on new underwear and a pair of grey sweats. Frank bending down to pick up his clothes and throwing them into the over filled hamper signaled her okay to turn around.

Instantly her eyes meet the bare flesh of his chest, swollen with muscles. Fresh cuts scatter his shoulder and abdomen along with old scars that he wears a little too proudly. Without even thinking her fingers meet with the welt of a scar, sliding over to ridged piece of skin with a sigh.

He sighs as well, closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her touch, her hand stops right above the waist band of his sweat pants, tempting him in every way possible. His hand takes her, slipping his fingers between hers. A small kiss to her forehead, it never goes further than that. “Are you hungry frank?”

The thought of food right now made his mouth almost water. “Starving sweetheart.” Her smile makes his knees weak, along with the kiss to his cheek. Just the touch of her lips of her finger tips on his skin gave him all he needed, he felt so touch starved and just wanted more. It hurt him to say yes, only because the moment she walked away and disconnected their fingers his chest was filled with regret and sadness.

“What sounds good to you frank? Alfredo, spaghetti, chicken?”

“You don’t have to cook for me, I don’t know how many time I have to tell you.” Frank is behind her in seconds, taking the spatula from her grasp. “You buy everything the last thing I want you to do is slave over the stove for me.”

“I’m pretty sure me cooking food for you isn’t being your slave.”

“Okay Miss. Smartass, sit down, I will cook us some food.” Spaghetti sounded amazing right now, especially since the last time he had a home cooked meal was when he saw her, almost two weeks ago.

Dinner was good, of course with Frank cooking Y/N knew she would be eating good. Frank was so good to her, never let her lift a finger, not allowing her to cook, and he washed every dish. He was so good to her... when he was here.

“Sleep?” She was almost relieved when he had finally asked, his hand resting against the small of her back guiding her too the bedroom. Even though she was tired she didn’t want to sleep, she knew when she woke in the morning he would leave again. 

“Frank?” 

“Hmmm sweetheart?” He answers while fluffing the pillow on his side, slipping into the covers and moving the blanket from her side granting her easy excess to the bed. “Can you stay a little longer tomorrow?”

He clears his throat. ‘I want too’ The words he wishes he could say, instead of answering her, he wraps his arms tightly around her, covering her with the blanket,. With their faces only centimeters apart he sighs, hand softly rubbing the skin of her cheek. “For you, I would do anything.”

“You confuse me frank.” She mumbles, his lips meet the corner of hers. So close, but just not close enough. “You do stuff like this with me, you always come back to me, make me dinner, and say that to me, but you never kiss me Frank.”

At the moment he was speechless, mostly because he thought she understood the agreement between the two. He answers honestly, “If I kiss you, I’ll never want to leave.”

“Why do you always have to leave?” The tone of her voice made his chest pang with sadness. Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

“Hey, hey, enough of that now.” His thumbs rub against the softness of her cheeks, he didn’t want to talk about this right now, he felt so venerable with her, something he isn’t very used to. “We can talk about this later, let’s sleep.”

“There won’t be a later, you always leave.” He sighs, sitting up against the head board, looking at the beauty next to him, He couldn’t help but look at her beauty, even with her eyes puffy, cheeks red from tears. He hated seeing her so upset, he shouldn’t have came, all he causes is pain.

“I shouldn’t have came.” He mumbles, lifting himself from the bed. He stalks towards his jacket slipping it on with ease.

“Why because someone actually gives a shit if you’re alive or dead?”

“Can’t you see that’s the damn problem!” His patience have always been thin, it was no surprise when a yell ripped through his throat.

“Why is that such a problem huh?!” Her voice matches his in loudness as she stands, walking closer to him as if she was sizing him up.

He laughs at her actions, always asking for trouble never listening to anyone but herself. “You don’t want someone like me, you know it too.”

“What’s so bad about you frank huh? what’s so bad that you need to stay away from me?”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes. Can’t you see? I don’t want you to get hurt, everyone gets hurt around me.”

“That is such bullshit frank! You and me know it too, why can’t you just stop? you got the bad people, there is no more getting hurt for you, for me.”

“Tell that to my wife and kids!” Frank is inches from her face as he yells. FAce red in anger as he points his finger at her face, she doesn’t take it though, she pushes him away from her.

“Frank they are gone, and I”m sorry but they’re not coming back. They will always be here with you, with us. You lost them too early, but they wouldn’t want this life for you. Me, I’m right here. You let this control you, this darkness it causes controls you. I’m here, you push me away like you don’t deserve me, like you don’t deserve a normal life, and you do. You deserve a second chance at life. Stop pushing yourself away from me, just let me love you.”

The tears that rolled down her cheeks made him groan in thought. “Why would you want me anyways?!”

He’s pacing around the room now, his hands running all over his face as his mind races with thoughts, trying to make sense of the words she just said to him.”You can never have normal with me, I kill people.” His fingers jab into his own chest roughly, “I can’t support you! I don’t have a job, a house, You can’t have normal with me!”

Her mouth opens to say words but he cuts her off, “You’re beautiful, drop dead gorgeous, so out of my league. You’re successful, not only a pretty face but smart. You need a normal man, a doctor. Not me.”

“Maybe I don’t want normal!” She is yelling her frustrations at him again. He couldn’t help but notice how sexy she looks like this. Face red with anger, chest rising with every hard breath taken, her eyes wild with anger, but she looked so beautiful doing it. “Who are you to decide what I want Frank? Who died and made you king Frank Castle?”

With those cocky words, his right hand gently, but rough in his own way slip behind her neck forcing her to look at him. His eyes run down her face one more time before crashing his lips against hers, his tongue rolls against hers, gaining dominance over this situation.

Frank pulls away, his hot skin against hers, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He’s did it, and he wishes he didn’t because all he wants to feel is those plump pink lips. A warmness spreads along his groin, with this act of passion his want grows for her. His lips meet hers again, lifting her up from her legs wrapping them around his waist. His lips move against hers with such need, a passion to taste every inch of her, his lips move from her lips to her cheek, tongue creating a trail from her neck to her collar bone, stopping where her neck and collar bone meets to suck on the sensitive skin there. He stops once the purple is visibly seen.

His eyes meet hers, he says no words, He’s really not sure what to say. Frank isn’t the best at expressing his feelings and right now he feels the opposite of what he wants to. He feels in love, he feels a mix of emotions at the moment, lust, happiness, nervousness, disappointment that he allowed everything to get this far but mostly he feels love consume his whole body, the thing he feared most.

“Let me love you Frank.” It was said with such want that he couldn’t say no, no matter how much he wanted too.

“we can try,” He clears his throat, “I can’t promise I’ll be good at this, that I won’t fuck up.”

“You won’t frank.” Small tears of relief soak her eyes, and he did exactly what she wanted, pressed his lips against them, loving away the sadness. 

Frank didn’t know about that, somehow, someway he was bound to mess this up, but really hoped he wouldn’t. Maybe she was right, he did deserve a second chance, after the shitty card he’s been delt, maybe things were finally looking up. His lips touch hers once again, he couldn’t take his eyes away from her after he pulls away, “You are so beautiful. I want to be that person for you, I will try my hardest to be what you deserve.”

“I told you I don’t want normal Frank. I want you. You’re perfect the way you are.”

Frank didn’t understand why. Why would she think that? He’s a murder, a criminal, this wasn’t going to end well, but he decided to think with heart instead of his head. And his heart told him to love this woman until his last living breath.