#ch: franklin

[luckyricochet]

"We go to America, Ségur, Noailles, Lafayette, and we fight. We fight for Washington. We fight for liberty." "Et pour la gloire." "Sans oublier l'honneur." "Et pour tuer les Anglais!"

THÉODORE PELLERIN as GILBERT DU MOTIER, THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE

EVERY LAFAYETTE SCENE, 5/? ✧ 1x01, FRANKLIN (2024)

[sugaaz]

  “All people have a side of themselves they can’t reveal to others”

@animangacreators challenge 11 ★ fall 2022 Spy X Family

[marthaskane]

1899 (2022- ) ↳ 1.04 The Fight

[local-lamppost]

After the mission

Spoilers for the latest chapter

I’m not too sure how many people have had this thought, but I think Twilight will give up being a spy and embrace the identity of Loid Forger; and I’d like to thank the new chapter for supplying me with exactly I’d like Loid to be after he quits the spy game.

Twilight’s whole shtick is coming up with stories and making masks to fill the roles, so him becoming an animator/writer/comic would be a way to peacefully use those skills. I’m leaning more towards a comic writer/illustrator. 

Franky would be his PR/printer/editor etc. and go on to have their own studio. I���m imagining something like Mirage Comics, where it’s just the two spit balling ideas until an unanimous “THAT’s IT!” moment.

I’d just love to have Loid living a fulfilling and truthful life, where all the lies and deceptions aren’t ‘for the mission’ but for whatever he’s writing.

And of course Anya is his biggest critic and his biggest fan.

Also, this has got to be one of my favorite panels

[giuliano-fan-account]

Hxh ch 396-397 review

WHY DID EVERYBODY FLOCK TO MY CHAPTER 395 REVIEW FOUNDING PART ONE OK??????

Anyways yeah I didnt do reviews for the past couple of weeks because Things happened and I got busy and it got me out of my groove so.

I have been reading of course because who am I .

I’ll do an overview of the rest of the flashbacks because those Messed Me Up actually and I have art and things to say about it.

Spoilers, obviously . (Warning for Child Abduction and death)

Chapter 396: Founding part 2

Sadly I dont have viz screenshots because of it only being the recent 3 lol so I’ll be using an unofficial translation

There he is again with some weird Popcorn Cauliflower lookin things and ooh nooo

Hi Uvogin!

Also hi Phinks with the walnut hair. At this point I’ve adjusted to how wonky it looks though but

SARASA *50 crying emojis*

I actually love Sarasa a lot. She’s adorable and confident and fearless... I really hope nothing BAD HAPPENS TO THIS CHARACTER. auughgggggg

I also really like Sheila. Even though they didn’t end up being actual phantom troupe members Sarasa and Sheila matter to me and I really want to know what Togashi has in mind by bringing her back into the plot. But aside from that we also get another moment of exposition for Pakunoda and Chrollos relationship. Im Not Crying Youare.

I love to think that while a lot of other people call him ‘Little bro’, Pakunoda is the closest to being his actual “big sister”  

Power cleaners moment. I actually slipped up and call them Power Rangers sometimes or like for example “Ranger red” instead of Clean up red. Whats funny is that I didn’t even watch power rangers as a kid this is just how it is

Look at all those sillies

I really really want to know what this sounded like because Im not gonna say that it’s really bad just because they’re kids, but I think it would be very funny if they were sugar coating it not even on purpose because of how young and silly they are.

Chrollo is actually 11 you learn in 397 so I’m guessing that would mean Paku is 10, Sarasa is like 8-9 or something since she’s the youngest, and Sheila is somewhere inbetween them all.

I love how out of context he sounds like a victorian child whos about to make an important announcement.

“Father, may I have the mic?” I never thought I would hear those words but knowing that it comes from baby Chrollo makes it all make sense.

Also look theres Nobunaga!! Wow!! He’s finally in his own flashback!

I like the composition of this panel because This chapter is supposed to be a highlight on Uvos progression and his relationship with Chrollo and the fact that Chrollo is straight ahead of him really drives that home.

IM CRYING THIS PANEL

To be honest you gotta love this because you really just see how sincere he is in just wanting to make all the other kids happy here, and they are ecstatic

With Chrollo doing all the same lines though just imagine theres this kid and he just has crazy vocal range for no reason and hes talking to himself in 7 different voices

omfg is he Jerma985. .

.....

..i mean  i did make this one thing

Anyways

HOLY CRAP JEDSURS

I bet he put his entire freakin heart into that line like no holding back

I love how everybodys like stunned and then theres just Nobu who is there

HELLO??????????? JFC

ALSO IS THIS A SAIKI K REFERENCE BECAUSE I WOULD NOT BE SURPRISED IF TOGASHI JUST SLIPPED THAT IN THERE... (In some volume extras I think of vol 35 he put references in random panels and replaced the text and there was a saiki k reference in one. Fun fact)

Scrungly Sarasa and Sheila only ever

I also really like the composition of these panels.. Its also very centric on Uvo and Chrollo which I appreciate. Also I can see it being animated a lot for no reason like its so easy to imagine with this format.

When the Sarasa are Scurngly and adorble

Im just gonna put this whole page here and then talk abt it I love it so so so so so omuch and tears are definitely not in my eyes right now because of it.

So first of all, I read this translation first, and I think the lines they put here are better than what they put in the VIZ one. I don’t remember what they were, but the top panels lines here are just so raw and “That was me dubbing you!” Flows well. Sometimes unofficial translations can be wonky, but they did great on this page.

I love Love Love the way this page was drawn too. The way that Uvo and Chrollo just look shocked and are shown side by side is great, and I love the focus and detail on Sarasa and also even though it’s a still picture, her hair has so much motion and i i i i

Everybody’s reactions are nice too. I’m just thinking. No wonder Togashi had to take all that time off especially for these chapters. Drawing this many people is not easy at all...

IM M MLITERALLY CRYIGN HH hh  G HHhhhhh UE h fhf hh n SNIFF

I like Uvo and Machi’s dynamic lol. They seemed to already be friends which is just really funny since she’s just this tiny little child and then Uvo is like. Already like 6 foot 2 or something idk. (He grows to be 8′5.)

This is so funny because when you think of the Phantom Troupe you think of incredibly twisted people, but no, their original original name came from them trying to make a company name for their little dubbing thing.

Im Crying again haha. I mean I guess in the end he did become a villain, so wish fulfilled!

This line is so relevant to so many things involving Uvogin, even having to do with his character in the yorknew arc

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO ONO NO ON NO NON ONON ONO OOOHHH NOOOO SARASA. COMMUNICATION IS KEY SARASA. JUST TELL THEM THAT THERE WAS A BUNCH OF TAPES THERE. SARASA. SARASA NO STOP RUNNING COME BACK

NO!!!!!!!!!! YOU CANT DO THAT

Chapter 397: Founding Part 3

at least this time I can take fro m the viz official translation.. Ha ha

Are you ready guys? This is going to be a wild ride! (Warning for Child Abduction and death especially here)

So they finally notice that Sarasa’s not here and there Might be Something wrong! WHY DID I HAVE TO BE RIGHT ABOUT THIS IN MY CHAPTER 395 REVIEW.

This is Depressing but I love the attention to detail with how he’s gripping his shorts. I just wanted to point that out

Oh and haha he’s blaming himself for something only somewhat inside his control as a young child... Hmm.. That sounds familiar...

Dont you love when you start having a little more hope for something again...

Oh haha look at them on the bike Oh look everybodys doing their own part in the search!!!......

Oh god....

....And then everything just plummets....

Seriously when I read this part I felt my heart drop. SO much so that I made a whole redraw of it for chapter 357!

I love Hunter x Hunter.

THIS WAS THE TREE. THE TREE. TOGASHI WHY. I TRUSTED YOU WITH THE TREE. WHYYYYYY

mmm I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this

Currently completely Fine right now actually ignore everything I just said.

NEVERMIND. IM NOT SHOWING THE PANELS WHERE IT HAS WHATS IN THE BAG FOR OBVIOUS REASONS BUT LIKE. THERE WAS A NOTE. ON HER AND IT HAD A FREAKING SMILEY FACE ON IT

A SMILE FACE....

My exact reaction

GEEEZZZ!!!!!

GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IM NOT OK WITH THIS AT ALL OK OH MY GOD NEXT PAGE NOW PLEASE NEXT

Thank You.

I feel like the flowers on her head would be little orange roses.. Because well for one, the orange cleaner, and also orange roses are a symbol for Joy I think and that’s perfect for her

Im so glad that Togashi decided to make this little scene because I wouldn’t be able to handle what just happened before without this closure and Im pretty sure that was done on purpose because That was like one of the most horrific scenes in Hunter x Hunter in my opinion.

You could feel how everybody was panicking and the grief and anguish and it was just aaahhhhhhggghghhgh.......

Anyways. Onto another thing that is helping me process all of this lol

NEN!!

LITTLE MACHI AND NEN!! EVEN BETTER!

This is another line that I liked better in the unofficial translation

JUST. JUST. “Those pretty eyes of yours make my skin crawl.” ESPECIALLY IN THE CONTEXT OF MACHI IS SUCH A COOL LINE!!! anyways :)

I like nen so This is also very relieving. We are getting lore....

THIS GUYS LIKE 11 AND HES ALREADY DOING STUFF TO FIX METEOR CITY. SO IS CHROLLO THE REASON WHY METEOR CITY HAS TO DO WITH THE MAFIA???? PROBABLY.

Add Predicts the technological revolution to baby Chrollo’s achievement list. This kid Hunter x Hunter children are insane for a fact

He would do great in my English 10 Honors class with all that evidence and reasoning there

hey guys its Shalnark here  and today I’m going to explain chrollos Nefarious plot  

Hes so happy that he didnt have to do 3 paragraphs of more explaining! ..also

Jus dont even ask why I made this but I sure did I also made a video but idk how to put videos on tumblr other than have them be at the top which is not what I want so you just get this

I kind of wish we got more of younger Shalnark because we got focus on Paku and Uvo who are both... decreased  and you know...  

oh god I just realized

All the phantom troupe characters that are commonly nicknamed are Dead. Quick everybody stop saying Nobu for Nobunaga

Anyways

At least he gets a little bit of a moment here

I feel so bad for Sheila little sheila talk here

Like man her best friend just got Murdered and she can not do this. I bet part of her does not want to be involved with the troupe anymore because they have the most to do with her death, and maybe she even counts them responsible for them not caring, and with that she probably blames herself too.

I really want to see her again she is such a character and there’s no way that Togashi’s just gonna bring her back here and not have her be plot relevant. Was she for or against the kurta massacre!??!?!?!? wha????

Top ten ways to become a mass murderer

lets play a game. Is this a quote from Kurapika or Chrollo?

Look at all these parallels and foreshadowing... Putting that in perspective, that means that Chrollo became the very person he sought to destroy as a child, and I wonder if he realizes that, especially now in his current mental and emotional condition. But at the same time, he may have been expecting that. He should know that the Troupe has all the right to be persecuted with the amount of carnage that they’ve caused.

THIS OUT OF CONTEXT.

I think the whole thing with the Villain and this panel is a callback to Uvo’s line about being the worlds greatest villain, and maybe Chrollo was thinking that he would fit as leader because of that but...

Get pranked! Also notice how Paku is also gripping the end of her dress. Since I’m an empath, I can tell that Paku is having mixed feelings and is nervous about this /s

In 3 years he shed his old pair of eyes and then regrew Strange Eyes. Hold on.

This is extremely important and like one of the best things Ive ever made.

He has Strange Eyes HE GOT HIS STRANGE EYES LETS GOOOOOO

I decided I wanted to do math So their reunion happens around 7 years before the Kurta massacre, and that’s when Chrollo is 21.. so 10 years after sarasa’s death is when the Kurta massacre takes place.

Ok were finally to the end of this fun fun fun Chapter! I have 2 questions.

1. Where is Phinks?

2. Shalnark What has he the Hair and Outfit? What? Ok well technically he’s in style since this is like the mid-late 80′s then but he looks a little bit like a Flamboyant Pop star from that era and then everybody else is just regular for their character. Then there’s just Shalnark with his fluffy mullet and the oversized suit and the collar

And also if that was his style when and why did he change? We could have had a totally different Shalnark tbh but I’m happy with the one we have.

Anyways

Hope you enjoyed this absolute behemoth  of a post and I may do another one with the next two chapters some time

In the meantime, who knows, just keep doing what you do & make sure you drink enough water so that your pee looks like light pineapple juice or lemonade (that means youre healthy)

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

📜𝙰𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝚊𝚑𝚛𝚒-𝙱𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 & 𝚂𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗

The moment she heard about the charity event, she instantly talked with Eli and her parents about attending. For as long as she could remember, the Baileys were ardent philanthropists. Ready to donate to any charity and organization, especially those that helped the greater good. So it'd been a no-brainer when they all enthusiastically agreed to attend. Plus, it was nice to have a night with Elijah while his parents watched after the girls. Donned in a royal blue dress with some gold and pearl accessories and her hair curled and slightly pinned up, even taking advantage to wear heels to add some more height to her otherwise shorter stature, the woman had equally been spending time with her partner while also making sure to mingle. Going around the room and chatting with other guests, including some of the museum's biggest patrons and benefactors. At some point in the night, she had noticed her cousin and made sure to find a time to see her. However, what she hadn't expected was for Yasemin to be with Sage. Granted, the blonde had informed her about their shared connection through Asher. However... This certainly seemed like more than just two people who were mutually connected through the same person, and that took her back a tiny bit. Aslihan had been trying to wrap her mind around it all when she ended up spotting Sage again, sans her cousin. "Sage, hi," she said. Smiling warmly at the other, though her mind still running with questions and confusion. "You look really lovely."

𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 ; 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 || @sagefranklin

[imberlae]

[assassinnumber9]

Franky Franklin Appreciation Post

I'm here to spread appreciation for a certain curly haired honorary uncle, because without him literally none of Spy x Family would have happened (and he deserves to be recognized...and have a girlfriend...and money).

Before y'all go "Well, duh, Twilight would have never gotten his information if not for Franky" or "Twilight could easily do everything by himself," I want to clarify that Twilight would not even be a spy if not for Franky.

Twilight would likely either still be known as Roland Spoofy or dead if he hadn’t stopped himself from shooting Franky.

Why?

Because Twilight only found his friends because of the injuries he sustained when the Ostanians caught up to him and Franky. He was put on cooking duty, because he was taken off the front lines.

And if he hadn't reunited with his friends, Military Intelligence would have never found out his true name and that he faked his age to join the army. The spy we saw in ch 62 would have never approached him, because he would have thought that "Roland" was your average soldier. Twilight would have never gotten blackmailed into joining WISE.

Franky is literally the reason why all of these events even occurred - not to mention that he was also the one that made [Redacted] begin questioning everything.

Most of Operation Strix comes from Twilight's work rather than Franky's, but it would have never even started if not for him.

And sometimes, I wonder if Twilight ever realizes/will realize that.

Twilight only ever really admits that Franky is useful and has never outwardly called him a friend (I don't think anyway) but relies on him heavily, even drinks with him when Franky is having a bad time (even though he disguises it as him wanting a drink too and meeting him was just a coincidence. King of Denial, Twilight is).

Twilight has Franky to thank for his life pretty much, and it's likely that the other way around is true too, even though it may be a lot less obvious or severe.

These two were just destined to be friends apparently. And, that’s great.

So in conclusion, Franky changed everything so we could meet Anya and Twilight/Loid could meet his (likely to be beloved) wife, Yor.

Seriously. If TwiYor have any biological children, the reason for their existence would be Franky.

...Also, Franky is also kind of the reason TwiYor exists, because he was the one to tell Twilight that Anya didn't look like the daughter of an affluent family from the way she was dressed.

Every path leads to Franky.

Thank you for reading my rambling on this pathetic man.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 2

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. Was all I could focus on as soon as the elevator doors closed and she disappeared.

“Andrea,” I bark as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, now.”

As I sit at my desk and wait for the call.

I look at the paintings on the wall of my office and Miss Y/L/N’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.” She could so easily have been describing herself.

My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”

“Put him through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welch, I need a background check.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•••

Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N

DOB: ( The Month and day you were born ). 1989, Montesano, WA

Address: 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888

Mobile No: 360-959-4352

Social Security No: 987-65-4320

Bank: Wells Fargo Bank, Vancouver, WA:

Acct. No.: 309361: $683.16 balance

Occupation: Undergraduate Student WSU Vancouver College of Arts and Sciences English Major

GPA: 4.0

Prior Education: Montesano Jr. Sr. High School

SAT Score: 2150

Employment: Clayton’s Hardware Store, NW Vancouver Drive, Portland, OR (part-time)

Father: Franklin A. Lambert, DOB: Sept. 1, 1969, Deceased (The day before your birthday), 1989

Mother: Carla May Wilks Adams,

DOB: July 18, 1970

m. Frank Lambert March 1, 1989,

widowed (The day before your birthday), 1989

m. Raymond Y/L/N June 6, 1990,

divorced July 12, 2006

m. Stephen M. Morton Aug. 16, 2006,

divorced Jan. 31, 2007

Current Marriage Situation: m. Bob Adams April 6, 2009

Political Affiliations: None Found

Religious Affiliations: None Found

Sexual Orientation: Not Known

Relationships: None Indicated at Present

•••

I pore over the executive summary for the hundredth time since I received it two days ago, looking for some insight into the enigmatic Miss Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I cannot get the damned woman out of my mind, and it’s seriously beginning to piss me off.

This past week, during particularly dull meetings, I’ve found myself replaying the interview in my head. Her fumbling fingers on the recorder, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the lip biting. Yes. The lip biting gets me every time.

And now here I am, parked outside Clayton’s, a mom-and-pop hardware store on the outskirts of Portland where she works.

You’re a fool, Grey. Why are you here?

I knew it would lead to this. All week…I knew I’d have to see her again. I’d known it since she uttered my name in the elevator. I’d tried to resist. I’d waited five days, five tedious days, to see if I’d forget about her. And I don’t do waiting. I hate waiting…for anything.

I’ve never pursued a woman before. The women I’ve had understood what I expected of them. My fear now is that Miss Y/L/N is just too young and that she won’t be interested in what I have to offer.

Will she? Will she even make a good submissive?

I shake my head. So here I am, an ass, sitting in a suburban parking lot in a dreary part of Portland. Her background check has produced nothing remarkable—except the last fact, which has been atthe forefront of my mind.

It’s the reason I’m here.

Why no boyfriend, Miss Y/L/N? Sexual orientation unknown—perhaps she’s gay. I snort, thinking that unlikely. I recall the question she asked during the interview, her acute embarrassment, the way her skin flushed a pale rose…I’ve been suffering from these lascivious thoughts since I met her.

That’s why you’re here. I’m itching to see her again—those eyes have haunted me, even in my dreams.

I haven’t mentioned her to Flynn, and I’m glad because I’m now behaving like a stalker. Perhaps I should let him know. No. I don’t want him hounding me about his latest solution-based-therapy shit.

I just need a distraction, and right now the only distraction I want is the one working as a salesclerk in a hardware store.

You’ve come all this way.

Let’s see if little Miss Y/L/N is as appealing as I remember.

Showtime, Grey.

A bell chimes a flat electronic note as I walk into the store. It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside, and although it’s almost lunchtime the place is quiet, for a Saturday. There are aisles and aisles of the usual junk you’d expect.

I’d forgotten the possibilities that a hardware store could present to someone like me. I mainly shop online for my needs, but while I’m here, maybe I’ll stock up on a few items: Velcro, split rings—Yeah. I’ll find the delectable Miss Y/L/N and have some fun.

It takes me all of three seconds to spot her. She’s hunched over the counter, staring intently at a computer screen and picking at her lunch—a bagel. Absentmindedly, she wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips and into her mouth and sucks on her finger.

My cock twitches in response.

What am I, fourteen? My body’s reaction is irritating. Maybe this will stop if I fetter, fuck, and flog her…and not necessarily in that order. Yeah. That’s what I need.

She is thoroughly absorbed by her task, and it gives me an opportunity to study her. Salacious thoughts aside, she’s attractive, seriously attractive. I’ve remembered her well.

She looks up and freezes. It’s as unnerving as the first time I met her. She pins me with a discerning stare—shocked, I think—and I don’t know if this is a good response or a bad response.

“Miss Y/L/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Grey,” she says, breathy and flustered. Ah, a good response.

“I was in the area. I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” A real pleasure.

She’s dressed in a tight T-shirt and pants, kind of disappointing, earlier this week all she wore was flattering mini skirts and sweaters.

She’s all long legs, narrow waist, and perfect tits. Her lips are still parted in surprise, and I have to resist the urge to tip her chin up and close her mouth.

I’ve flown from Seattle just to see you, and the way you look right now, it was really worth the journey.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N. What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?” She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders like she did in the interview, and gives me a fake smile that I’m sure she reserves for customers.

Game on, Miss Y/L/N. “There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties.” My request catches her off guard; she looks stunned.

Oh, this is going to be fun. You’d be amazed what I can do with a few cable ties, baby.

“We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?” she says, finding her voice.

“Please. Lead the way.”

She steps out from behind the counter and gestures toward one of the aisles. She’s wearing Converse shoes.

Idly I wonder what she’d look like in skyscraper heels. Louboutins…nothing but Louboutins.

“They’re with the electrical goods, aisle eight.” Her voice wavers and she blushes…

She is affected by me. Hope blooms in my chest. She’s not gay, then. I smirk.

“After you.” I hold my hand out for her to lead the way. Letting her walk ahead gives me the space and time to admire her fantastic ass. Her long, thick hair keeps time like a metronome to the gentle sway of her hips. She really is the whole package: sweet, polite, and beautiful, with all the physical attributes I value in a submissive.

But the million-dollar question is, could she be a submissive? She probably knows nothing of the lifestyle—my lifestyle—but I very much want to introduce her to it. You are getting way ahead of yourself on this deal, Grey.

“Are you in Portland on business?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice is high; she’s feigning disinterest. It makes me want to laugh. Women rarely make me laugh.

“I was visiting the WSU farming division. It’s based in Vancouver,” I lie. Actually, I’m here to see you, Miss Y/L/N.

Her face falls, and I feel like a shit.

“I’m currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science.” That, at least, is true.

“All part of your feed-the-world plan?” She arches a brow, amused.

“Something like that,” I mutter. Is she laughing at me? Oh, I’d love to put a stop to that if she is.

But how to start? Maybe with dinner, rather than the usual interview…now, that would be novel: taking a prospect out to dinner.

We arrive at the cable ties, which are arranged in an assortment of lengths and colors. Absentmindedly, my fingers trace over the packets. I could just ask her out for dinner. Like on a date?

Would she accept? When I glance at her she’s examining her knotted fingers. She can’t look at me… this is promising. I select the longer ties. They are more flexible, after all, as they can accommodate two ankles and two wrists at once.

“These will do.”

“Is there anything else?” she says quickly—either she’s being super-attentive or she wants to get me out of the store, I don’t know which.

“I’d like some masking tape.”

“Are you redecorating?”

“No, not redecorating.” Oh, if you only knew…

“This way,” she says. “Masking tape is in the decorating aisle.”

Come on, Grey. You don’t have much time. Engage her in some conversation. “Have you worked here long?” Of course, I already know the answer. Unlike some people, I do my research. For some reason she’s embarrassed.

Fuck, this girl is shy. I don’t have a hope in hell. She turns quickly andwalks down the aisle toward the section labeled Decorating. I follow her eagerly, like a puppy.

“Four years,” she mumbles as we reach the masking tape. She bends down and grasps two rolls, each a different width.

“I’ll take that one.” The wider tape is much more effective as a gag. As she passes it to me, the tips of our fingers touch, briefly. It resonates in my groin. Damn!

She pales. “Anything else?” Her voice is soft and husky.

I’m having the same effect on her that she has on me. Maybe… “Some rope, I think.”

“This way.” She scoots up the aisle, giving me another chance to appreciate her fine ass.

“What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope…twine…cable cord…”

Shit—stop. I groan inwardly, trying to chase away the image of her suspended from the ceiling in my playroom. “I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please.” It’s coarser and chafes more if you struggle against it…my rope of choice.

A tremor runs through her fingers, but she measures out five yards like a pro. Pulling a utility knife from her right pocket, she cuts the rope in one swift gesture, coils it neatly, and ties it off with a slipknot. Impressive.

“Were you a Girl Scout?”

“Organized group activities aren’t really my thing, Mr. Grey.”

“What is your thing, Y/N?” Her pupils dilate as I stare.

Yes!

“Books,” she answers.

“What kind of books?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.”

British literature? The Brontës and Austen, I bet. All those romantic hearts-and-flowers types.

That’s not good.

“Anything else you need?”

“I don’t know. What else would you recommend?” I want to see her reaction.

“For a do-it-yourselfer?” she asks, surprised.

I want to hoot with laughter. Oh, baby, DIY is not my thing. I nod, stifling my mirth. Her eyes flick down my body and I tense. She’s checking me out!

“Coveralls,” she blurts out.

It’s the most unexpected thing I’ve heard her say since the “Are you gay?” question.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin your clothing.” She gestures to my jeans.

I can’t resist. “I could always take them off.”

“Um.” She flushes beet red and stares down.

I put her out of her misery. “I’ll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing.”

Without a word, she turns and walks briskly up the aisle, and I follow in her enticing wake. “Do you need anything else?” she says, sounding breathless as she hands me a pair of blue coveralls. She’s mortified, eyes still cast down. Christ, she does things to me.

“How’s the article coming along?” I ask, in the hope she might relax a little.

She looks up and gives me a brief relieved smile.

Finally.

“I’m not writing it, Bella is. Miss Clark. My roommate, she’s the writer. She’s very happy with it. She’s the editor of the newspaper, and she was devastated that she couldn’t do the interview in person.”

It’s the longest sentence she’s uttered since we first met, and she’s talking about someone else, not herself. Interesting.

Before I can comment, she adds, “Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any original photographs of you.”

The tenacious Miss Clark wants photographs. Publicity stills, eh? I can do that. It will allow me to spend time with the delectable Miss Y/L/N.

“What sort of photographs does she want?”

She gazes at me for a moment, then shakes her head, perplexed, not knowing what to say.

“Well, I’m around. Tomorrow, perhaps…” I can stay in Portland. Work from a hotel. A room at The Heathman, perhaps. I’ll need Taylor to come down, bring my laptop and some clothes. Or Elliot —unless he’s screwing around, which is his usual thing to do over the weekend.

“You’d be willing to do a photo shoot?” She cannot contain her surprise.

I give her a brief nod. Yeah, I want to spend more time with you… Steady, Grey.

“Bella will be delighted—if we can find a photographer.” She smiles and her face lights up like a cloudless dawn. She’s breathtaking.

“Let me know about tomorrow.” I pull my wallet from my jeans. “My card. It has my cell number on it. You’ll need to call before ten in the morning.” And if she doesn’t, I’ll head on back to Seattle and forget about this stupid venture.

The thought depresses me.

“Okay.” She continues to grin.

“Y/N!” We both turn as a young man dressed in casual designer gear appears at the far end of the aisle. His eyes are all over Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Who the hell is this prick?

“Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Grey.” She walks toward him, and the asshole engulfs her in a gorilla-like hug. My blood runs cold. It’s a primal response.

Get your fucking paws off her.

I fist my hands when she returns his hug.

They fall into a whispered conversation. Maybe Welch’s facts were wrong. Maybe this guy is her boyfriend. He looks the right age, and he can’t take his greedy little eyes off her. He holds her for a moment at arm’s length, examining her, then stands with his arm resting on her shoulder. It seems like a casual gesture, but I know he’s staking a claim and telling me to back off. She seems embarrassed, shifting from foot to foot.

Shit. I should go. I’ve overplayed my hand. She’s with this guy.

Then she says something else to him and moves out of his reach, touching his arm, not his hand, shrugging him off. It’s clear they aren’t close.

Good.

“Er…Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother owns the place.”

She gives me an odd look that I don’t understand and continues, “I’ve known Paul ever since I’ve worked here, though we don’t see each other that often. He’s back from Princeton, where he’s studying business administration.” She’s babbling, giving me a long explanation and telling me they’re not together, I think.

The boss’s brother, not a boyfriend. I’m relieved, but the extent of the relief I feel is unexpected, and it makes me frown. This woman has really gotten under my skin.

“Mr. Clayton.” My tone is deliberately clipped.

“Mr. Grey.” His handshake is limp, like his hair. Asshole. “Wait up—not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?”

Yeah, that’s me, you prick.

In a heartbeat I watch him morph from territorial to obsequious.

“Wow—is there anything I can get you?”

“Y/N has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She’s been very attentive.” Now fuck off.

“Cool,” he gushes, all white teeth and deferential. “Catch you later, Y/N/N.”

“Sure, Paul,” she says, and he ambles off to the back of the store. I watch him disappear.

“Anything else, Mr. Grey?”

“Just these items,” I mutter. Shit, I’m out of time, and I still don’t know if I’m going to see her again. I have to know whether there’s a hope in hell she might consider what I have in mind.

How can I ask her? Am I ready to take on a submissive who knows nothing? She’s going to need substantial training. Closing my eyes, I imagine the interesting possibilities this presents…getting there is going to be half the fun. Will she even be up for this? Or do I have it all wrong?

She walks back to the cashier’s counter and rings up my purchases, all the while keeping her eyes on the register.

Look at me, damn it! I want to see her face again and gauge what she’s thinking.

Finally she raises her head. “That will be forty-three dollars, please.”

Is that all?

“Would you like a bag?” she asks, as I pass her my AmEx.

“Please, Y/N.” Her name—a beautiful name for a beautiful girl—flows smoothly over my tongue.

She packs the items briskly. This is it. I have to go.

“You’ll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?”

She nods as she hands back my charge card.

“Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps.” I can’t just leave.

I have to let her know I’m interested.

“Oh— and Y/N I’m glad Miss Clark couldn’t do the interview.” She looks surprised and flattered. This is good. I sling the bag over my shoulder and exit the store.

Yes, against my better judgment, I want her. Now I have to wait…fucking wait…again. Utilizing willpower that would make Elena proud, I keep my eyes ahead as I take my cell out of my pocket and climb into the rental car. I’m deliberately not looking back at her. I’m not. I’m not. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, where I can see the shop door, but all I see is the quaint storefront. She’s not in the window, staring out at me.

It’s disappointing.

I press 1 on speed dial and Taylor answers before the phone has a chance to ring.

“Mr. Grey,” he says.

“Make reservations at The Heathman; I’m staying in Portland this weekend, and can you bring down the SUV, my computer, and the paperwork beneath it, and a change or two of clothes.”

“Yes, sir. And Charlie Tango?”

“Have Joe move her to PDX.”

“Will do, sir. I’ll be with you in about three and a half hours.”

I hang up and start the car. So I have a few hours in Portland while I wait to see if this girl is interested in me. What to do? Time for a hike, I think. Maybe I can walk this strange hunger out of my system.

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It's been five hours with no phone call from the delectable Miss Y/L/N. What the hell was thinking? I watch the street from the window of my suite at The Heathman. I loathe waiting. I always have.

The weather, now cloudy, held for my hike through Forest Park, but the walk has done nothing to cure my agitation. I’m annoyed at her for not phoning, but mostly I’m angry with myself.

I’m a fool for being here. What a waste of time it’s been chasing this woman. When have I ever chased a woman?

Grey, get a grip.

Sighing, I check my phone once again in the hope that I’ve just missed her call, but there’s nothing. At least Taylor has arrived and I have all my shit. I have Barney’s report on his department’s graphene tests to read and I can work in peace.

Peace? I haven’t known peace since Miss Y/L/N walked into my office.

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When I glance up, dusk has shrouded my suite in gray shadows. The prospect of a night alone again is depressing. While I contemplate what to do my phone vibrates against the polished wood of the desk and an unknown but vaguely familiar number with a Washington area code flashes on the screen.

Suddenly my heart is pumping as if I’ve run ten miles.

Is it her?

I answer.

“Er…Mr. Grey? It’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

My face erupts in a shit-eating grin.

Well, well. A breathy, nervous, soft-spoken Miss Y//L/N. My evening is looking up. “Miss Y/L/N. How nice to hear from you.” I hear her breath hitch and the sound travels directly tomy groin.

Great. I’m affecting her. Like she’s affecting me.

“Um—we’d like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article. Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?”

In my room. Just you, me, and the cable ties.

“I’m staying at The Heathman in Portland. Shall we say nine thirty tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, we’ll see you there,” she gushes, unable to hide the relief and delight in her voice.

“I look forward to it, Miss Y/L/N” I hang up before she senses my excitement and how pleased I am. Leaning back in my chair, I gaze at the darkening skyline and run both my hands through my hair.

How the hell am I going to close this deal?

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[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[luckyricochet]

"Une silhouette d'homme, pas de mollusque."

THÉODORE PELLERIN as GILBERT DU MOTIER, THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE

EVERY LAFAYETTE SCENE, 3/? ✧ 1x01, FRANKLIN (2024)

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 17 **

Not much to say about this chapter, we're going deeper into the QZ with our sweet Frankie and his girl, some complications arise and they get some news about their friends. I hope you enjoy! Please reblog and comment if you like it, I love hearing your thoughts!

Series master list

Warnings contains spoiler, but please read if you need to because this series will contain some difficult subjects.

Word count: 9.1k

Chapter 18

Time in the quarantine area moves slowly. Once you’ve figured out the routine of showering early in the morning, before the water runs out, and when the best time is to collect your rations for the day, there’s not much else going on. Frankie gets extra rations, as promised by the captain who vetted him, and he shares them with you, even trading some of his rations to get you a chocolate bar which he hands over with a happy grin. The food rations are small and you don’t know if it’s because there’s not enough food, or because they’re just not prepared to feed you much.

You sometimes talk to the woman who has the bunk bed across from you in tent five, her name is Annie, and she’s come from the QZ in Austin, she’s been transferred over to Franklin because she’s a nurse. She tells you the military in the Austin QZ always had enough food but made sure the population only had just enough to not starve.

“They said it’s because they don’t know when food production will be up and running again, it all depends on when they find a cure for this infection.” 

“Are they getting close?” you ask as you light the small portable gas stove in the tent and heat up yours and Frankie’s rations, two bags of freeze dried chicken alfredo from a hiking food supplier.  

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “there are so many rumors going around, no one seems to know for sure what they’re doing.” She kneels next to you, putting her own rations on the stove. “And of course, so many people were lost in the first few weeks, before we really understood what was going on. A nurse came to Austin from Seattle, she’d been transferred to us because she specialized in anesthesiology and we still had supplies and equipment for that. She thinks the first outbreak was at the Lakehill Seattle Hospital where she worked. She was called into work on Thursday morning but when she got there she was told to go home, the hospital had already put itself in quarantine.” Annie stirred the plastic spoon through her soup as you pull your chicken alfredo off the stove. “That was twenty four hours before the rest of the country started noticing anything and the hospital lost almost all of their staff in that time.” 

“When you were in Austin, did you ever run into a couple of brothers called Joel and Tommy Miller?” you ask. “Joel has a daughter called Sarah. All three of them are from Austin.” 

“I think I met a guy called Tommy Miller just before I left, a blonde guy in his thirties?” Annie asks. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” you nod, smiling at Frankie as he walks into the tent and over to the stove. 

“Hey, cariño,” he says as he sinks down on a crate next to you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“I think Tommy had a brother in the QZ, but I never met him, and I don’t know about a girl.” Annie shakes her head as you pass the bowl of pasta to Frankie. 

“That reminds me, Annie, do you know if there’s any way of looking for people inside the QZ, once we’re out of quarantine?” 

“In Austin there was a notice board in the administration center, people put signs up, they might have something similar here.” 

“I hope so,” you sigh and Frankie reaches over and squeezes your hand, “we have friends and family we haven’t heard anything from since the outbreak.” 

Annie looks over at you both before she drops her gaze back to the stove and her rations, “Don’t get your hopes up, most of us never find anyone again.” Her voice is laced with grief and you don’t ask her anything more. 

Frankie and you eat your rations in silence as you lean closer to his solid shoulder, resting your head against it. When you’re both done he pulls you down onto the narrow bunk bed, his back against the rest of the tent and you tucked in under his arm under the blanket. It’s the only way you can have some privacy in the tent and you relish the time you have with him like this before you both drift off to sleep. Frankie lets his fingers trace small circles on your skin, soothing you as much as it calms him too. Sometimes you talk in whispers, mostly about how you’re going to navigate this new world, but sometimes about your life before the outbreak. Frankie makes you giggle in hushed tones when he re-tells the story of how he first spotted you across the bar, how Pope had pretended he was going to go up to you if Frankie didn’t have the balls to do it, the guys comments when they first spotted you. It makes your heart ache, remembering the four of them huddled at the corner of the bar, all except Frankie, grinning at you. Frankie with his embarrassed smile trying to hide under the bill of his cap as he fiddled with his drink. 

“I know I turned you down when you asked for my number, but I regretted it almost straight away,” you admit, “you looked so shy and sweet when you went back to the guys.” 

“You broke my heart in two seconds, cariño,” You can hear the smile in his voice even though he’s whispering. “Not even Pope wanted to rib me about it when I got back to them, I still don’t know how I could fall so fast for you,” his arm tightens around you, “your smile got me straight away.” 

You giggle softly, turning your head so that you can reach his mouth with your lips. “For me it was the way you rubbed the back of your neck when you got shy, those big, puppy eyes looking all lost and sad, I couldn’t resist.” 

“If I’d known I would've used them more,” Frankie chuckles as his lips brush over yours. “Go to sleep now, hermosa, only two more days in here.” 

The next morning you wake up before Frankie for once, he’s tucked in against you, snoring lightly in such a deep sleep you don’t have the heart to wake him. He’d woken you up a couple of times in the night when his nightmares got the better of him, and you know it took him a while to get back to sleep. Gently you slip from under his arm and climb out of the bunk, pulling on your boots and a hoodie. Since you’d arrived with only one change of clothes you’d been given some spare clothes, including a bright orange hoodie that made you feel like a traffic cone. You make your way over to the communal bathrooms and then the cantina to grab coffee for both of you. There’s already a line forming and you listen to two women your own age talk about the possibility of staying in Franklin or if it’s better to chance it, and go to another QZ. Transferring between QZ’s seems to be easy, the hard part is getting yourself to the new QZ without dying. Their conversation turns to all the gruesome ways they’ve heard of people dying on the outside and you’re grateful when they finally get their coffees and leave. You get two coffees for you and Frankie, smiling a thank you to the lady handing them out and head back to the tent.

You’re just a couple of tents away from tent five when the screaming starts.It's coming from the tent next to you and suddenly a man comes crashing out from under the tent flap. You let out a yelp as you’re knocked over, the coffee mugs tumble to the ground as you lose your footing and fall flat on your back, the hard smack to the ground knocking the wind out of you. You’re gasping for air as more screams come from inside the tent and people are suddenly running, scrambling to get away. With a chill you recognise the inhuman screech that’s tearing through the air and you force your legs to work, your lungs to pull in air again. 

“Get up! Get up, cariño! Run!!” You hear Frankie roaring and out of the corner of your eye you see him sprinting towards you. The tent flap flies open and a man you recognise from the early morning shower queue barrels out, tendrils creeping under his skin, his lifeless eyes fixed on you. He’s fast, faster than you’re prepared for and before you can get upright, he’s on you, his teeth bared and snapping. You get your arms up just in time, his teeth missing your wrist by half an inch as you push against his throat. Deafening gunshots ring out, making you scream, and the man slumps down on you, twitching as you try to hold his weight off you, you’re gasping, crying in panicked gulps. Suddenly Frankie is above you, yanking the man away from you, tossing him to the side as if he weighs nothing and turning to you, kneeling down. 

“Are you hurt, did he bite you? Cariño, answer me!” Frankie is frantically running his hands over your exposed skin, pulling down the neckline of your hoodie as you try to calm yourself enough to check if you’re ok. 

“Step away from her immediately!” a soldier barks from behind the fence, “Sir, step away from her!” 

Frankie’s eyes snap up at the soldier's tone, his rifle is aimed at you and Frankie scrambles to his feet, putting himself between you and the soldier. 

“She has no bite marks, she’s clean,” he calls back, his hands held up to placate the soldier, who’s now joined by three more, all of them with their rifles aimed at you both. 

“She’s been exposed, step away from her.” 

You’re still sitting on the ground and now you turn slowly to look over at the soldiers, all four are lined up behind the fence, rifles trained at you with Frankie trying to cover you with his body. 

“You can’t shoot her!” he yells, taking a step back so that he’s almost standing over you, “she hasn’t been bitten, he didn’t get her!” 

“She needs to go into solitary quarantine and be examined, step away from her, sir. Now!” 

Frankie looks over his shoulder at you, you can feel tears streaming down your face, your hands are shaking from shock and he moves as if to crouch down and touch your cheek and the soldier barks again. 

“Sir! You need to step away from her now! She will be taken to solitary quarantine for two weeks. We need to make sure she is clean and contained.” 

“It’s...it’s ok, F-Frankie,” you stutter, “I’ll be ok.” 

Frankie’s eyes squeeze shut as he knots his eyebrows together like he’s in pain. 

“Can I go with her?” he asks, turning back to the soldier. “Please, she’s my fiancée.” 

“No, for your safety, and everyone else's, she has to go into solitary quarantine for two weeks.”

You get to your feet, still shaking from the adrenaline and shock, “I have to go, Frankie, it’s just two weeks, I’ll be fine.” He knows from your voice that you’re scared, terrified, but you’re swallowing back your panic, trying to stand straight and be confident, tell yourself as much as him, that you’re fine. With pained eyes he looks back at you, reaching out to touch your face before you have to go but the soldier barks; 

“Don’t touch her, back away! Don’t make me tell you again!” and Frankie drops his hand and you take a couple of steps away from him, your eyes still on him with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Come with us,” the first soldier calls to you and motion with his rifle for you to follow them along the fence. 

You give Frankie a final look, “I love you, Frankie, stay safe.” 

“Te amo, cariño, I’ll come see you if they let me. I’ll figure it out, I promise, I’ll be waiting when you come back.” His dark eyes are fraught with anxiety as he looks at you, he can see your hands shaking. 

You nod and turn to follow the soldiers, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Everyone in the quarantine area backs away from you as you walk with the soldiers back to where you first came in. They take you through a gate to a smaller area you’ve never seen before, a few enclosures with a small tent set up inside each one. All the other enclosures are empty and you’re guided to the first one. One of the soldiers locks the gate behind you and leaves. You pull off your hoodie as they turn their backs, shivering in the cold air with only your t-shirt on, but you scan every inch of your skin that you can see.There are no marks on you, as far as you can tell, no blood, and nothing hurts as you run your fingers over your neck where the man’s teeth snapped so close. Your wrists and arms are clean too and  you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief while you wait. The adrenaline is wearing off and you sink to the ground with your back against the fence, your legs suddenly weak. The cold winter air raises goose bumps on your bare arms but you don’t have the energy to move.

It takes over two hours, but the doctor finally turns up, a different one this time, together with two soldiers. He tells you to take all clothes off except your underwear and then, turning slowly in front of him, he carefully looks you over, asking you to pull down your bra and expose your breasts too. You shudder as you do it, the leering look in his eyes too indicative of why he’s taking extra time looking at your bare chest. Finally he lets you cover up and beckons you over to the hole in the fence, pressing the scanner to your skin, it blinks green.  “Why do you have to do the ocular examination if you can just scan me?” you ask, angry at being forced to stand in the cold air with his greedy eyes on you. 

“The scanners are experimental, still in the testing phase and we don’t trust them completely yet. As you saw yourself just now, the infection is sneaky and can get past us even if we check every one that we let in.” He motions over to your clothes inside the tent, “You can get dressed, it seems you were lucky but we’re quarantining you for two extra weeks just to be safe.” 

You get dressed and go sit on the single bunk inside the tent. There are no supplies, only a small oil lamp and a gas stove, like the one in tent five. After a couple of hours a soldier comes over with your box of supplies and slides them through the small opening in the fence. 

“Can my fiancé come and see me while I’m here if he’s outside the fence?” you ask and the soldier shakes her head.

“No visitors, we can’t risk anything.” she says and leaves, giving you a short nod. 

Sighing you take the box into the small tent, unpacking it slowly. As you do, you realize Frankie’s must’ve been the one who’s packed it. He’s added extra rations, his own rations, to the box, the thickest blanket, one of his flannel shirts and a hastily scribbled note tucked into it. The shirt smells like him and you fold it up, putting it down as a pillow on your new bunk before you lie down to read his note.

Hermosa, fuck, you scared me! My heart stopped when I saw that man charge at you, but I think you’re ok. I couldn’t see any marks on you and you fought him off like a champion! Benny will be proud when we finally get a chance to tell him, whenever that will be. But when we’re together again I’m going to start training you so that you know how to defend yourself, throw a punch properly at least. I should’ve done it months ago but I was too wrapped up in myself to think of it. 

“And with good reason, Frankie” you say to yourself as you smile, you can hear his voice in your head as you read. 

I asked and I can’t come see you, but I’ll get everything sorted for us when I leave quarantine tomorrow so that you don’t have to worry about anything when you get out. I’ll be at the gate waiting for you, I’ll be the one with a goofy grin yelling “cariño.” Stay safe, mi amor, te amo para siempre, mi prometida. 

Frankie 

You fold the letter and put it in your back pocket, and lie back down, wishing you could write a letter back to him. The prospect of two weeks in quarantine didn’t seem so bad when you first came here, you’d be with Frankie at least. Now, the idea of spending two weeks alone, not being able to even talk to him, scares you. And there’s nothing here to distract you. You stare up at the canvas above the bunk, trying to calm your nerves, breathing in and out. 

You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re not infected, you’ll see Frankie in two weeks, he’ll be there waiting for you. Just think of this as a silent retreat, a really shitty, low budget retreat. 

Frankie tucks the note in at the bottom of the box before the soldier comes to pick it up. Outwardly he’s calm, but his hand flies up every minute to rub the back of his neck, and he can’t stop moving. He’s pacing back and forth through the quarantine area, drawing odd looks from the other inhabitants. There aren’t that many people in quarantine anymore, over the past two weeks most people have left and not that many have arrived. And almost everyone had seen him sprinting at her, yelling for her to run and then seen how he’d frantically searched her skin for any mark. The soldiers had deemed that he hadn’t been anywhere near the infected man before he was shot, but it seems the inhabitants would rather be safe than sorry. They all give him a wide berth.

In his head, his mind swirls while he paces back and forth. The scene plays inside him over and over; He heard the screams and ran out of the tent, he’d just gotten his boots on, and the first thing he saw was her on the ground, right by the source of the screams. His only instinct had been to get her away from there but the infected man came hurling out of the tent and went right for her and Frankie couldn’t run fast enough. In his mind he sees the man jerk as the bullets from the soldiers rip into him and the fear that nearly stopped his heart when he didn’t know if they’d hit her too or not. 

His mind starts to spiral and he clenches his fists to stop his hands from trembling. 

I can’t even keep her safe in here. 

He’s stopped at the end of the quarantine area, at the end of the row of tents, holding on to the chain link fence with both hands, nausea is creeping up his throat as he sees the man attack her again and again and again in his head. He squeezes his eyes shut to stop the dizziness that suddenly has him in its grip. 

C’mon, Morales, you know what this is, just a panic attack, just breathe. Just breathe, man. In and out, in a square. She’s safe, you know she is. You saw nothing on her. She’s safe and in two weeks you’ll see her. Just fucking breathe like the therapist taught you.

He forces himself to breathe in and out, following the square shape in his head. Finally he feels the nausea recede, the overwhelming urge to throw up passes and he can stand up straight again, looking up at the pale blue winter sky over the quarantine area. He’s still breathing deeply, forcing his pulse to drop. Eventually he lets go of the chain link fence and slowly walks back to the tent. It’s going to be two long weeks. 

The days are unbearably long in your solitary quarantine. You have no books or games to entertain yourself with so you fall into a stupor and sleep most of the time. Or try to sleep, you haven’t slept without Frankie curled around you for months, over a year. His warm body has been present in your bed, or bunk, since you moved in with him. And especially in the past few months, it’s been more important than ever to have him close at night, for you as much as for him. You lay on your uncomfortable bunk, flat on your back and stare at the canvas, thinking about him, willing him to sleep calmly even if you’re not there. The thought of him waking up with his nightmares, worse than ever, makes you chew on your bottom lip, you wish you could at least talk to him. Pain shoots through your lip as you bite down too hard and the taste of iron fills your mouth. 

You’ll draw blood, hermosa. 

Frankie’s voice is clear in your mind, you can feel the way his thumb would tug your lip from between your teeth as he looked at you with a small smile. With a sigh you close your eyes and roll over on your side, trying to feel Frankie’s arms around you as you drift off to sleep again. 

When you have the energy, you walk endless circles around the enclosure. Your one break in the monotony is when a soldier brings you your rations once a day. It’s almost always the same woman, the one who brought you the box on your first day. After a few days, when she seems certain you’re not going to change into a monster, she stops and chats with you for a while. She tells you more about the life inside the actual QZ, after the quarantine area. Apparently soldiers sleep in shared accommodation if they’re single, they share apartments with other soldiers and sleep two in a room. If you’re in a relationship when you come in you get assigned an apartment with your partner, if you’re lucky you don’t have to share it with another couple.. 

“It depends on the apartments available, but it’s not too bad here. We’re expanding the QZ and clearing out more apartments so you’ll probably get one on your own with your fiancé,” she says when you ask. 

She tells you there’s a notice board for posting messages about missing people, just like you’d hoped for. But she’s not hopeful about finding anyone. 

“There are so many missing people, FEDRA, the Federal Disaster Response Agency, are trying to organize stuff like that but communication between QZ’s is used mainly for military stuff so there’s not much opportunity to ask about who’s where.”

“Have you found any of your people?” you ask while the soldier, her name is Ingrid, leans on the fence and smokes a cigarette. 

“Yeah, I found my brother in the Miami QZ, he used to live in Tampa before the outbreak and he made it there. Last thing I heard he’s still there and working for FEDRA. But that’s the only one I’ve found.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and glances up at the nearest guard tower. “What about you?” she asks, “Who are you looking for?” 

“Everyone, except Frankie,” you sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. “I don’t know what’s happened to my parents or my sister. They were all down in San Antonio. And then our friends, they were gonna try to meet us at a cabin outside of the city, but nobody made it. I think if they made it they’d be here, or in the Arlington QZ.” 

Ingrid stands up and stubs out her cigarette, “I came here from Arlington two months ago, what are their names?” 

“Santiago Garcia, Benjamin Miller, Will and Hannah Miller, Denny Jones.” 

“Oh yeah, Benny I know! He’s with the military in Arlington, I served under him. Big, blonde, ex special ops guy right?” 

Your eyes widen and you feel excitement bubbling up inside you, “Yes! Yes! That’s him! He’s ok? What about his brother, Will’s his brother and he’s married to Hannah.” 

“Yeah, Benny lives with Hannah but he never mentioned a brother.” She sees the fear creep into your eyes as you realize the reason why Ben might not have mentioned Will. “I wasn’t close with Benny or anything, maybe he just never mentioned him.” 

“But if Will was there, then Hannah would be living with him and not Benny,” you say in a low voice. Ingrid looks at you with pity before she sighs, getting ready to leave again. 

“Yeah, if he was there they’d probably be sharing an apartment and Benny would’ve been the barracks. Listen,” she says, putting her hand on the fence separating you, “I’ll try to get a message to Arlington, let Benny know you’re here, see if he can send you a message back. He’s a commanding officer, comes with some privileges.” 

“Thanks Ingrid, tell him Frankie Morales is here too, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow, ok, only four days left now.” 

“See you tomorrow.” 

You go back to the tent and sit down on the bunk, Benny and Hannah are alive, that’s something. But Will…your stomach knots when you think about him, calm, reliable Will, always has his friend’s back, always looked out for Frankie when you first started dating, you don’t want to think about the possibility of him not making it. But if Will was in the Arlington QZ, he and Ben would be serving together, you’re sure of it. So where is he, if he’s not there? 

Two days later Ingrid comes back, handing over your rations for the day and she has good news. 

“I got hold of Benny on the radio, it was pure luck,” she says, grinning at you as you feel tears well up in your eyes. “I was on radio duty yesterday and he had information to pass on to Franklin QZ so I got to talk to him. I told him you and Frankie are here and he was ecstatic, he asked me to tell you ‘I’m going to hug her and hug Frankie and then smack Frankie for scaring the shit out of him and then hug him again’. “ 

You laugh despite the tears dripping down your cheeks, “That sounds like Benny alright,” you say as you drag your palms over your cheeks to dry them. 

“He’s gonna send a message to Frankie and if you guys want, he’ll try to get you transferred to Arlington.” She pushes your rations over to you through the fence and leans back to light a cigarette. “We didn’t have time to talk more, but I’d say you can expect a very big hug if you transfer to Arlington.” 

You smile and lean back against the fence on your side too, “Benny is one of Frankie’s best friends. They served together for years together with Will and Santiago, it’s gonna do Frankie good to hear that at least Ben is ok.” 

“Well, you can tell him the day after tomorrow,” Ingrid smiles, “But I’ll miss our chats. Come see me when you’re all settled in, promise?” 

“I will for sure, it’ll be nice to talk to you without a fence in between us;” you laugh, relief making you feel light. Ben is ok, and he knows you’re ok and where you are. That’s a start, you’re gonna find the Will and Pope too, somehow, somehow you’re gonna track them down and get word to them.  

Two days later you’re given a final scan by the doctor, the female one now thank god, and given the all clear to gather your things and exit the quarantine area. You’re longing for Frankie, you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait in line for the processing to be done for you and four more people who are being released into the QZ. You get some sort of QZ passport and a stamp in it before you’re finally allowed to step through the gate that leads into Franklin QZ. 

“Cariño!” Frankie’s waving at you from behind a low barricade, keeping the area in front of the wall clear. Even at a distance you can see his eyebrows drawn together in an anxious look as raises his hand to you again. “Cariño!”

You try not to run over to him, to not look too pathetic in front of the guards and the other newcomers, but tears well up in your eyes and you break into a run. Through the mist you see him open his arms wide for you and you slam into him, hard enough to make him stumble back before he finds his footing. His arms close around you as you grab his face, his scruffy beard under your palms, and then his mouth is on yours again, finally. His hand slips up and cups your cheek, you feel his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer as he fists your shirt, bunching it up and grabbing hold of you. Your tears are dripping down over your lips and his, he’s wiping at them with his thumb, but when his tongue slips across yours, you can taste them on you both. He’s pressed hard against you and you slip your arms around his neck to hold steady as he picks you up, your feet leave the ground as he hugs you tight enough to squeeze the air out your lungs but you still can't get close enough to him.

“I love you Frankie, I missed you so much,” you choke out when you have to gasp for air and Frankie draws a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too, I missed you too,” he mumbles, looking at you with his warm, brown eyes so close it’s all you can see, “hermosa, mi amor, I missed you so fucking much.” His lips are on yours again, gentler this time as he carefully lowers you to the ground, his hand still on your cheek while the other runs up and down your back, holding you close. 

You stay wrapped up around each other for a long time, only the guards are left when you finally break apart far enough to notice the world around you. Frankie’s got a tight grip on your hand, your small box of belongings in the other and he gives you a slight tug, showing you where you’re going.

“C’mon, we’ve got an apartment down this way,” he says and leads you down what looks like it used to be a major street in Franklin. “I got everything sorted for us, like I promised,” he gives your hand a small squeeze. “I joined FEDRA, that’s the military agency that runs the QZ, and I got us an apartment through them and some rations to start us off. The apartment isn't much but it’s furnished and there’s a donation center where we can apply for stuff we need.” 

He turns down a side street as you get further from the wall, a regular city street lined with apartment buildings and offices except it looks almost like a war zone, or at least what you’d imagine a war zone to look like. A couple of the buildings are burnt out and there are burnt out cars along the streets too. Some of the cars are toppled over and down one alley you see a crashed truck with its back doors ripped off its hinges. 

“They haven’t prioritized clearing the streets yet,” Frankie says. “They had to get the walls and quarantine areas up as fast as possible. And they’re still reinforcing the wall in some places, getting it more stable.” You turn another corner and arrive at a non-descript apartment block in sand coloured brick. 

“This is us,” Frankie says and opens the gate into the complex, holding it up for you. “There was no electricity in the daytime the first week I was here. They only just got the power plant up and running again. Apparently it took a bit of damage during the outbreak.” He starts leading you up the stairs, “but now we have actual hot water and lights.” 

“Hot water…” you sigh, “I can’t wait to take a long shower, I’m all grimy and gross, there was no shower in solitary quarantine:” 

“You’re still the most beautiful woman I know, hermosa,” Frankie says, slipping his arm around your waist as you get to the third floor. You lean into him and through the layers of his jacket, the very well worn flannel and soft t-shirt underneath, you can still catch that warm scent  that always seems to hang around him, warm cotton, something woody and very much Frankie. Despite it all, the mess of the entire world, losing Lucía, losing your friends, the looters attacking you, the infected man attacking you and the two extra weeks in quarantine, despite it all, being back with Frankie makes it all seem less scary, less intimidating. You wrap your arm around his waist, tucking it in under his jacket so that you can put your hand between his t-shirt and jeans, running your fingers along the soft skin of the small of his back. He hums gently and stops you both in front of a door at the end of the hallway. 

Unlocking the door he steps in first, flicking the light switch and kicking off his shoes after putting your box on a small table just inside the door. You untie your boots and pull them off as Frankie locks the door behind you. When you stand up he pulls you into his chest, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as his lips find yours. His tongue laps at your mouth and you part your lips, relishing the feel of his eager press after so long apart. He feels more needy than he has in months, there’s something urgent in the way he pushes you against the wall in the hallway and when he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, you feel heat rush through your body and you moan into him. You wrap your arms around his waist, dipping your hands inside his jeans, his skin soft and warm under your fingertips. You urge him closer, your hips pressing against his and with a low groan his lips leave yours and nips at your jaw, traveling a familiar path to that spot just under your ear that he knows will have you moaning louder for him. 

“Hermosa,” he mumbles, his lips close to your ear, his hands leaving your cheek and caressing down your chest, palming your breast, his thumb seeking out your hardening nipple, “I need you, I need you so much now.” 

You almost sob with happiness, you’ve missed this part of Frankie so much, feeling his hands on your body, feeling him press his hard length against your soft belly, making you moan as arousal floods your body. 

“I need you too, Frankie,” you whimper, gasping as his teeth nip at your sensitive skin, his soft tongue soothing the bite. “Let me shower first, then I’m all yours.” You push him gently away from you, his dark eyes coming up from your neck to stare into yours. He nods and takes your hand, pulling you further into the apartment. It’s almost bare, just a few pieces of furniture in the living room and a small kitchen table at the end of the galley kitchen. The bathroom is next to the one bedroom and Frankie leads you inside and shows you how to get the shower running. It sputters a bit but then a steady flow of hot water comes rushing out and you quickly scramble out of your clothes. You’ve only had one change of clothes in quarantine and everything is dirty and smelly and to drop it all on the bathroom floor feels like peeling off the past two weeks. Frankie can’t keep from running his hands over your body as your bare skin is in front of him, bending his head to kiss your shoulder while he cups your breasts from behind. 

“Take as long as you need, cariño,” he says, still trailing kisses along your shoulder, “I’ll get some clean clothes out for you, your towel is the green one on the hook.” 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you say as he lets go of you and you step into the shower. 

The shower is the best you’ve ever had, the feeling of finally being clean is something you didn’t realize you’d missed so much. You let the water run hot, almost scorching, and soap yourself up three times, washing your hair twice, before you rinse every inch of your body, finally feeling clean, and turn off the water. The mirror is steamed up when you step out of the cubicle and dry off. There’s a comb on the counter that you assume belongs to Frankie and you have to spend some time detangling your hair, coaxing out the knots after two weeks without a hair brush.. When you’re done, you wrap the towel around yourself and make your way to the bedroom. 

It’s as non-descrip as the rest of the apartment, a double bed, a wardrobe, chest of drawers and a chair in the corner. Frankie’s in front of the wardrobe, clothes in his hands, but as you walk in he drops them on the chair and comes over, his hands landing on your waist, sliding down and grabbing hold of your hips, fingers digging into the flesh under the towel. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, he’s shed the jacket and shirt, leaving him in a green t-shirt that stretches across his body, it even looks a size too small for his wide frame. And as you relish the feel of his warm body he pulls you around and walks you backwards to the bed, tugging at your towel and leaving it pooled on the floor. “Take your shirt off, Frankie,” you say, pushing up the hem of it, and he quickly pulls it over his head, his hands barely leaving your body.

He pushes you down on the bed, making you crawl backwards up over it while he crowds you, his mouth finding yours. His kisses are frantic, forceful and needy, his tongue plunges into your mouth, making you moan as you taste him. He’s going to leave bruises on your lips but you let him, he’s pressing hard against you, his low groans vibrating into your mouth. You can feel his knees bump against your thighs as he makes you spread your legs wide, pushing them apart when he rolls his still  jeans clad crotch against your core, a louder groan forcing itself from his chest. He’s pushing you into the mattress, his body heavy over yours, scrambling to undo his belt and pants, shoving them down only enough to free his hard cock, you can feel it push up against your wet folds as he drops his hips against yours, the belt buckle pressed against the flesh of your thigh.

“I need you, cariño,” he pants, he’s grabbing himself, settling the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, “I need you, I need you, fuck, let me…,” he’s pushing himself in, the sharp stretch of his thick cock making you wince, screwing your eyes up, the intense pleasure of feeling him fill you up, mixing with pain at taking all of him so fast and unprepared.

“Frankie,” you whimper, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pulls out and thrusts back in, a half concealed cry slipping from you as he pushes even deeper too fast. He’s fucking you hard and firm, dropping his head to your neck. You can feel his heavy panting against your skin as he pushes one arm around your shoulders, holding you steady, while his other grabs your hip hard enough to bruise, his own slamming into you at a punishing pace. His climax is approaching fast, he groans into your neck, the rhythm of his thrust stuttering and then he grinds into you, forcing you deeper into the mattress under his heavy weight. With a strangled sob he comes inside you, freezing above you for a few seconds, his hips moving slower until they still, and he slumps down over your. 

You let your hands run through his hair, your own arousal slipping away as you try to wrap your head around how he just fucked you, so unlike him in any way. You feel dazed and  you can feel the sting between your legs, a dull ache from his frantic movements.

“Frankie..:'' you say in a whisper, moving to look at his face but with a hiss he pulls out  and pushes himself off you, shuffling back without looking at you and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He makes a motion as if to stand up but sinks down again, his jeans still just pushed down over his hips, and he slumps forwards, burying his head in his hands as a sob escapes him, shaking his hunched shoulders. 

You push yourself off the bed, moving around so that you can kneel behind him, your hands on his shoulders. 

“Frankie…” you whisper softly, “Frankie, talk to me.”

He grasps at your hands, pulling them around his shoulders and you bury your face against the side of his head as you hug him from behind.  “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok,” you soothe him as he sobs, struggling to catch his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, his voice low and shaky, “I’m sorry, cariño.” 

“It’s ok, come back to bed, Frankie,” you take his hand and gently pull him around when he lets you. “Take your jeans off and come lie down with me.” 

He does as you say and you pull the covers back, tucking you both in as he crawls next to you. Wrapping your arms around him, his head comes to rest against the crook of your neck and you feel his wet cheeks against your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, “I’m so fucking broken.” 

“Frankie, my love, you’re not broken,” you whisper, caressing his soft curls, “you’re grieving, it’s normal, I’d be more worried if you were behaving like nothing happened.” 

Under you Frankie draws a deep shuddering breath, you can feel him blow warm air over your neck, and he burrows closer to you. 

“I needed you here, I couldn’t even sleep when you weren’t with me,” he mumbles so low you almost can’t hear him, his lips against your skin. “I just needed to make you real again, I just needed to feel you here.” 

“I needed you too,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the top of his head, “I dreamt about you every night, I’d fall asleep pretending you had your arms around me, holding me so that I could feel safe next to you.” Your fingers run through his curls, his quiet whimpers slowly dying down.

“What did you dream?” he asks eventually, his voice a bit steadier but low, shifting so that he can look up at you, his arm under your head like a pillow. 

“Everyday things, things I miss from before,” you lean forward and give him a soft kiss on his pink lips, still damp from his tears. “Movie nights on the couch, going grocery shopping, driving in your truck, taking Lucía to the park.” 

Frankie nods as he curls his hand around the back of your head and pulls your lips to his again, this time his kiss is gentle and delicate.

“I dream about driving with you in my truck almost every night,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls back, “I don’t know where we’re going, just away I think. I’ve got my arm around you, your hand on my leg and…” he falters, something catching in his throat, “she…Lucía, is sleeping in her booster seat in the back.” He smoothes the back of his hand across your cheek and kisses you again. “On the good nights we just keep on driving until I wake up.” 

You don’t ask him about the bad nights, you know what happens then. Instead you let him deepen his kiss, his warm hand cupping your cheek as his tongue slips between your lips. He tastes of salt and himself and as he carefully rolls you over, you pull him closer, tangling your tongue with his. He’s holding himself up over you on his forearms, straddling you with his legs and when he leaves your lips, trailing soft, gentle kisses along your jawline you feel heat bubbling up inside you again. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, his lips against the soft skin just under your ear, “I can give you much better.” 

“I know, Frankie,” you whisper but the last syllable comes out as a gasp when he sinks his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to hurt, just a nip to make your back arch against him as electricity shoots through your body, gathering in your core. 

“Like that,” he murmurs and you can hear the smile in his voice, his tongue licking across the spot before he moves himself down, trailing his hand down over your breast, brushing the thumb over your hard nipple, before he lets it slip further down. 

“You don’t have to though,” you mumble, slipping your fingers through his curls, you know his grief is still just under the surface, but he shakes his head as his mouth finds your other breast, lapping at the sensitive nub, nudging the soft flesh with the cool tip of his nose as you writhe under him, spreading your legs to make room for his hand. 

“I want to, I want to make you feel good, cariño,” he ghosts against your skin, looking up at you from under his thick eyelashes. He’s cupping your pussy, slipping a finger through your wet folds, teasing at the entrance and you whine, his fingers moving up to slip across your clit.

“Frankie…” you whisper, his touch is electric, lighting up every nerve in your body. His tongue slipping around your nipple as he lets his fingers follow the same pace, circling around your aching bundle of nerves. 

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, smiling at your skin and lapping at your nipple again before he pushes himself further down your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses as his hands come up and caress your breast, your waist, the soft swell of your belly and finally land on the inside of your thighs, gently pushing them apart as he situates himself between them. 

“I remember how sweet you taste,” he breathes, parting your folds with his fingers before he looks up at you, his dark eyes still puffy from his tears but a needy look in them now, one you recognise from many nights spent in his bed. He dips his head and when his tongue drags across your folds, ending at your clit with an extra lick, you arch your back and inhale, holding your breath until he does it again. You’re not going to last long and he can sense it, going easy on you, to drag it out at least a bit.

He hums against your pussy as he laps into your entrance, the tip of his nose rubbing over your clit. When your hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer he chuckles and you can feel the vibrations, sending more heat to your core. 

“You taste so good, cariño,” he says, shifting his arm so that he can tease a finger into your opening, his tongue licking a wide path up through your fold before he sucks the clit into his  mouth, pulling gently on it. He curls his finger, dragging it out slowly before letting a second one join it. Pushing deeper he finds that spot that makes you buck your hips against his hand, a strangled gasp coming from you as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“Frankie...” your voice catches in your throat but he knows what you mean, curling his fingers back as he drags his tongue over your clit. The sensation of his fingers plunging in and out of you makes your body convulse under his arm and he lifts his mouth from your clit, looking up at you under hooded eyes. 

“Look at me, hermosa, please,” he pleads, “I want to see you come in my mouth, it’s been so long.” 

Peeling open your eyes, they’ve been squeezed shut under the onslaught of his skilled tongue, you lift yourself up, gazing down your body at his flushed face between your thighs. His eyes are dark, his sweat damp curls an unruly halo around his head. As you meet his eyes he unfurls his tongue onto your clit, lowering his mouth so that you can see the pink tip brush over your swollen bundle, making you whimper at the touch. His fingers are still moving in and out of you at a steady pace but as his mouth closes around your clit again, he speeds up. The familiar coil starts tightening in your core, seeing Frankie’s dark eyes on you as he buries his face, ramps the heat even more and your mouth drops open, panting out whimpers, his name the only coherent word. He curls his fingers back and presses his lips against your clit, flicking his tongue over, his eyes willing you to come undone under his ministrations, and with a strangled cry, you feel heat flood your body. It makes every muscle tense up, your hips press up against Frankie’s mouth as he laps over your clit, working you through your climax, prolonging it until you fall back with a deep exhale, pushing him away with weak hands. 

Black dots are dancing over your eyes and you squeeze your eyelids together, your breath rushing in and out. Frankie’s fingers slip out of your pussy, gently grabbing your hips and caressing over your flushed skin. His tongue is lapping through your folds, tasting your release and humming low as he feels your body relax under him. When he rests his head on your thigh you can feel the soft scratch of his beard, damp against your skin. 

“Had to make it up to you,” his voice smiling as he caresses your other leg with his hand, grounding you with his touch. 

“You did,” you mumble, still coming down from your high, not sure if you’re conscious or not, “more than enough.” You hear Frankie chuckle softly and shift around your legs, his body moving up to lie down next to you. He pulls you into his side, letting your head fall on his shoulder as he pulls the covers back up. You can feel his fingers brush through your still damp hair, his arm tight around your body and you bury your nose against his neck, breathing in his warm, familiar scent.

“You still smell like yourself, Frankie,” you murmur.  “So do you,” he says, shifting his head so that he can press his nose to your hair, inhaling deeply. “Smells like early morning rain and fresh coffee, with a hint of aviation fuel, all the things I love.” 

You giggle and swat his chest where your hand rests, “Pendejo, I do not smell like aviation fuel.”

He chuckles lightly,“ Hermosa, you’re not allowed to learn the bad words. And no, you don’t smell like aviation fuel.” His lips press against your hair and you close your eyes, listening to his slow heartbeat under your ear. Together you stay quiet for a while, the only sound is your breathing and the distant noises from other apartments. 

“I forgot to ask how quarantine was?” he asks softly just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, his question pulling you back up.

“Very boring, mostly,” you say before you suddenly remember, “Frankie, I’ve got news!” You shuffle around, pushing yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him.“The soldier who brought my rations, she got transferred here from Arlington QZ and she served under Benny there!” 

Frankie’s eyes widen and he stares at you, “Our Benny? Benjamin Miller?” 

“Yes, our Benny! After she found out I knew him she managed to get him on the radio and tell him we’re here!” You grin at the message Benny had passed along. “Benny said he’d hug me, hug you, then smack you for scaring the shit out of him and then hug you again.” 

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head before he’s suddenly serious again, “What about Will, Hannah and Pope? Anything about them?”

You sigh and bite your lip, Frankie’s eyebrows knit together when he sees your face. “That’s the thing, Benny is living with Hannah in the QZ and Ingrid, the soldier, she didn’t know anything about Benny having a brother. And she didn’t know Pope either.” 

“So Will’s not there,” Frankie says immediately, “If he was he’d be serving with Benny for sure.” “That’s what I was thinking too,” you say and Frankie drops his gaze from your face, narrowing his eyes as he thinks. “It doesn’t mean the worst though, it just means Will isn’t in Arlington,” you say, worrying at your lips with your teeth.

“Yeah, but where else would he be?” Frankie looks up at you and gently tugs your bottom lip from between your teeth. “You’ll draw blood, hermosa.” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, “Maybe he got transferred somewhere else? You guys, with your experience, must be pretty sought after now.” 

“But Will would never leave Benny. She, the soldier, didn't ask about Will?” 

“No, she said there wasn’t much time but he said he’d send a message to you as soon as possible. Although, that was four days ago.” 

“I’ll see if I can get a message to him too, my C.O. mentioned something about officers applying for special privileges on the radio for private conversations. I’ll see if I can do that.” 

Frankie pulls you down to him again, kissing your cheek as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck.

 “Benny and Hannah are alive,” he says, mostly to himself, “thank god.” 

Chapter 18

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @welcometothepedroverse

[lillotus17]

INTERTWINED SERIES MASTERLIST (Spidermen!ENHA)

SYNOPSIS: After being dead for two minutes and then brought back to life thanks to your coworker, you start to get these weird visions of the future events just minutes before they happen. During a train ride you witness the murder of three teenage boys in broad daylight and then suddenly the next second they're sitting back down in their seats, alive and breathing. Despite the want you have to keep your peace and leave it alone, you can't help but get a very bad feeling and it only intensifies when you recognize the man that murdered them in your vision, three train carts away, walking in your guys' direction. Shoving the three boys off of the train, saving their lives, risking your own, and being accused of kidnapping was not on your bucket list after surviving death already. You don't have any clue what is going on or what in the hell you're gonna do to help three boys but thankfully the four of you bump into some help along the way.

PAIRING: EnhaHyung!Line X Fem. Reader, Spider-men!EnhaHyungLine x Madame Webb!Reader, Superhero!EnhaHyungLine x Clairvoyant!Reader, Spider!EnhaHyungLine x Paramedic!Reader, [ft. Enha Kim Sunoo (Anya Corazon), Yang Jungwon (Julia Cornwall), and Nishimura Riki (Mattie Franklin); TXT Yeonjun (Ezekial Sims), Choi Soobin (Ben Parker), mentions of Choi Beomgyu (Richard Parker); Shin Ryujin (Mary Parker); more to be added].

GENRE: Superhero AU, Romance, Action, Comedy, Angst, Strangers to Allies to Friends to Lovers, polyamorous relationship, (let me know if I forgot anything) more to be added!

WARNINGS: profanity, sexual/suggestive content (intercourse, oral, masturbation, phone sex, sexting, etc) ONLY WRITTEN FOR HYUNG LINE, MINORS DNI (you WILL be removed/blocked), poly relationship, drinking/consuming alcohol, feminine pronouns/terms used for reader, MADAME WEBB SPOLIERS!!! If you haven't watched it already! This is based on the MADAME WEBB MOVIE with some twist added into it! Let me know if I forgot anything at all!

DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of FICTION! This is not meant to portray any of the Enhypen Members or other mentioned idols in any way shape or form.

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES/GIFS THAT MAY BE/ARE USED IN MY WRITING. IMAGES CREATED BY ME WILL HAVE MY WATERMARK OR BE COPYRIGHTED! THE MOOD BOARDS USED FOR THIS SERIES ARE ONES I PUT TOGETHER ON MY OWN BUT THE PHOTOS USED ARE NOT MINE!

ALL CREDITS GO TO THE OWNERS/CREATORS!

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK!

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, STRICTLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

P.S. if you haven't already, you should definitely check out @artysse (credited) on TIKTOK! If you already have, then you know that it's and ENHA Fan Art Account of Spider ENHA! It's really fucking awesome! Go show some love!

NOT PROOF READ: Apologies for any grammatical errors, my loves!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This takes place in New York, with mentions of South Korea and Japan. Reader is the same age as Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki are the same age, in high school, and have a bigger age gap between them and hyung line. Time gaps, mentions of MCU universe events/milestones. Slight spider-verse au, hyung line are all from different universes! More to be added!

Character Introductions:

| Introduction 1 | Introduction 2 | Introduction 3 | Bonus

CH. 1: Resuscitation

CH. 2: Kidnapping

CH. 3: In Progress...

CH. 4: TBA...

CH.5: TBA...

TAGLIST (OPEN) : @praliliaaa @clara12o @llvrhee

comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[marthaskane]

I know you remember. Somewhere in there, I know you remember.

1899 (2022- ) ↳ 1.07 The Storm

[radiostranger]

supernatural finale first time watch thoughts:

THE DOG IS BACK YES

sam would be a jogger idk it makes so much sense

“HOT! bread”

dean is so me attempting to clean

honestly i could watch a whole season of this domestic shit just add castiel back in and id be content

no dean. don’t “got something”please don’t “got something”

oh it’s a pie fest. carry on (badum ch)

cas mention :’)

oh no it’s the barn i know what’s coming i hate it dean pls drive away

and you know what?? WHAT IF THAT NINJA STAR HAD SAVED DEANS LIFE SAM HM?? LET HIM HAVE HIS NINJA STAR

this looks like the lazarus rising barn🤧

i see the rusty nail i see it and i hate it

who the fuck is jenny

oh no here it comes

“i always looked up to you” “i’m so proud of you” “i cant do this without you. i don’t want to” and what if i spontaneously combusted rn hm? what then?

i hate this show. no one look at me.

is rufus married to …. aretha… franklin ?? am i dumb or is that what they were insinuating

CAS HELPED ??? CAS. HELPED????? IS HE ALIVE ??? HOW DID HE GET OUT OF THE EMPTY I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

THE ORIGINAL LICENSE PLATE

the blurry woman™️ is eileen bc i said so. them not showing her at all in the last two episodes was cruel

WHAT TUE FUCK IS THAT WIG

i deserve reimbursement for having to watch that

oh what hi jensen and jared and crew 🤠

andddd cut :(

final thoughts: okay as much as i don’t love that ending and it felt kinda cheap and not great writing wise it’s not assssss awful as i expected from the way people talk about it but also i don’t have the background of watching the show for 15 years. plus i knew most of the spoilers so it’s hard to say what i actually would have thought if i saw it the way intended. main takeaways:

1. wtf did castiel not show up in heaven hm ??

2. i’m pissed they didn’t include at least a tiny mention of eileen :( all that set up for her and sam relationship just for her to die, presumably be brought back to life but not even mentioned??

3. i need fix it fics. immediately.

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

📜𝙰𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝚊𝚑𝚛𝚒-𝙱𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 & 𝚂𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗

With Asli's parents watching over the girls for the night, it was nice to spend time alone with Eli and their friends. To spend time around the fire, eating some food and enjoying some drinks. Well, hot chocolate and pumpkin spice chai for her, that is. Getting to reflect on not only the summer, but the past year as well. At the last bonfire, her and Eli were still about a month into their relationship. Taking things easy and slow while they enjoyed themselves. Never would she imagine how much has happened, yet she was grateful nonetheless. And with Rosh Hashanah recently and Yom Kippur starting tomorrow, she was ready to start fresh. Not only with autumn, but 5784 as well. Noticing Sage nearby, she took a deep breath. Counted to five, tuck some hair behind her ear, and let it go. Grabbing some food she and Eli brought with them as she headed over to the blonde. "Hey," she said, her smile soft while she remained cautious. "Are you hungry? I may or may not have overpacked."

𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 ; 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 || @sagefranklin

[favouritefi]

Whenever we can see the catlads’ stockings, I notice you always add embroidered letters on them - what I assume is their initials and then the initials of their owner ? (God bless whoever had to embroider the ones for FRMC’s that’s too many letters). Have you ever spoken abt that ? I’d love to know more… esp bc Hickey’s don’t seem to be his initials, and I don’t know what the letters under HC are on Henry Collins’ jumper’s shoulder! 👀

i acc have a wip about this but ive been lazy and havent turned the script into a proper drawing yet. jopson's the one who does all the embroidery in the crozier household and its partly a practical thing to make sure they dont get each others clothes mixed up (every piece of their clothing has their initials + their owners initials on them though it isnt always in a very visible spot) and also a status thing to show that they are adopted/part of a household. the letters under collin's initials are "HDSG" for "Henry Duncan Spens Goodsir". dundy and tozers clothes have JF on them. peglar and des voeux only have their own initials. before tozer was adopted by fitzjames, he had a pendant that hooked into the collar of his uniform which had his initials, his rank, and his marine dogboy id.

the initials themsleves arent like a sure fire way to know who belongs to what household, but they work as a quick reference in public settings, particularly at parties where humans and cat/dogboys are mingling and sizing each other up. generally speaking having an owner is smth worth advertising, but if your owners rep aint great (like crozier) then its not really doing you any favours. fitzjames is notoriously picky so having JF on you would deffo be a talking point at parties. lack of an owners initials could also indicate that you're shopping around / available / waiting for someone, gore for example has had a blank space under GG for years and ppl think hes reserving it for franklin but he's actually been pining for fitzjames who has expressed no interest in adopting him. (dont worry he eventually gets "JCR" on him so its a happy ending for gore.)

as for why hickey has "CH" and not "EC", it's because he introduced himself as cornelius hickey to sophia when they first met and she knows its not his real name but she doesnt press him about it. when he was part of the cracoft's household the letters under "CH" was "TC" for "Thomas Cracroft" because women aren't allowed to own property and thus can't own their cat/dogperson companions. legally, their companions belong to their fathers or husbands.