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bluegalaxygirl · 3 months

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Wild Flower (Zosan X reader) P2

Plot: While doing recon for the crew, reader's snake gets captured by a marine who knows more about her than her own crew but to make matters worse he can hurt reader through her Snake using some strange powers and deadly plants.

Warning: Bad language, Sickness, Violence, Blood and Snakes

Reader is female and has the ability to control Snakes that come form tattoo's on her arms, she can change the size of them and see through their eyes but they are also connected to her emotions. Zoro X Sanji X Reader, poly relationship, established relationship.

P1 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - P7 - P8 - Bonus

Nami was supposed to guide Sanji and Zoro through the marine base but nothing ever goes to plan when your captain is too eager for a fight and doesn't understand how to sneak around. The navigator gave the map to Sanji telling him to follow the red line that she drew to get to where your snake was last, while Luffy was fighting the marines along with Franky and Brook who both deiced to join last minute. Walking through the halls Zoro kept close to the cook as to not get lost, it was surprisingly easy to get around with all the marines fighting at the front entrance but it made the two uneasy. If you snake had an aura things would be much easier but it didn't so the two just stuck to the map soon making it to the door you were last at "This is it" Sanji sighs putting the map away and puffing on his cigarette, the cook tried the handle finding it locked so stepped back watching as Zoro smiles raising two of his swords and slicing the metal door into pieces, the strange smell you talked about hit their noses but it wasn't too strong, so they both found it easy to ignore it and start walking down the stairs. The dimly lite stairs made it hard to see so Sanji lite his foot on fire in order to see better, the stone stairs were dirty and slightly wet but as they made their way down the fire around the cooks foot started to sizzle burning away any puddles of water he stepped in "How long does this go down for?" Zoro groans after walking for a while the end of the stair's no where in sight, Sanji shrugs flicking away his cigarette focusing on not slipping.

It takes a while but soon the stairs flatten out into a path the cold air and damp floor making the two of them cold despite the fire coming form Sanji's leg, "The hell?" Zoro asks stepping into a slightly lite room looking at the long rows of plants that are growing out of dirt piles "Chopper said something about the snap being the most toxic bit so try not to get any on you" Sanji whisper's shaking the fire off his leg as to not alert anyone that their here, Zoro scans the area seeing a few rooms going off to the side all the doors open, he walks over to one soon followed by Sanji only to hear a loud hiss from another room along with the sound of footsteps "Oh you almost got be that time... Such a fighter, its amazing really" A male voice laughs out making Zoro grip his swords as the two walk over trying not to make any noise, your snake hisses again from its small cage sitting on the wooden tool bench its skin hot and covered in bumps but it still snaps at the marine as he sits on wooden stool teasing the snake by putting his finger into the cage before pulling it back out before being bitten. "I'm guessing she's not dead then if you two are here" The marine smiles picking up the small cage with his gloved hand and turning towards the door seeming to sense the two boys approaching. Sanji growls moving his leg back ready to kick this guy if he gets too close while Zoro glares at the man before turning his attention to your snake. It shivered with cold and anger, its body morphed in a way to try and fit inside the small cage leaving little wiggle room, the poor snake didn't look well at all despite it trying to reach threw the thin gaps of the bars to bite the marines hand.

As the marine steps out he looks the two over with a smile "I'm sorry about your lady but at the end of the day it is my job to hunt down any dangerous animals" The man shrugs, Sanji growls and runs at the marine kicking the man who dodges out-of-the-way holding onto the cage in a death grip as Zoro slashes his swords at the man. The cook lights his foot on fire kicking down on the man arm as Zoro brings his swords down to cut his shoulder. The marine laughs dropping the cage before touching the two with his gloved hands just as both attacks hit. Sanji screams out being forced back and sliding along the wet floor holding his sliced open shoulder while Zoro gasps in slight shock having to take a few steps back while the slave of his kimono and some of his skin burns up. The marine kicks the swordsman in the stomach sending his rolling across the wet fall almost landing in some of the plants. Picking up the cage again your snake trying to bite the man but can't get threw the bars "That was good, your both good fighters" The marine smiles watching as the two try and get up off the wet floor. Sanji pants managing to stand to his foot while gripping onto his bleeding shoulder, his eyes widen when seeing the marine perfectly fine, not even a wrinkle in his uniform. Zoro groans as he stands up using his swords to help him sad before looking down at the burn on his arm, it takes a second for the two to realize what happened, somehow the two ended up hurting each other despite only hitting the marine.

The swordsman glares at the marine his anger boiling at the situation and calm almost humored look on the man's face "Cook, stay out of the way" Zoro yells out keeping his eyes fixed on the marines, he must have some kind of devil fruit powers, and he was not about to stand back and let Sanji fight since he was itching to take this guy out. "What?" The cook yells back in anger not happy that the swordsman's trying to bench him but before he can act Zoro charges at the marine swinging his sword to try and cut the man or the cage in his hand. The marine dodges finding amusement in the fight and the looks on the two men's faces " I thought you two would be smarter than this" The marine laughs trying to keep the cage out of the swordsman's reach. The swordsman smiles after finally getting a hit in, slicing the marines cheek but to his surprise the man's hand brushes against the swordsman arm, the cut disappearing of his face as a stinging sensation runs over Zoro's cheek. Blood trickles down the green haired man's cheek as he swings again this time going for the cage, the marine dodges before kicking Zoro in the face sending him a few steps back. Sanji had a theory about what was going on so runs over to the swordsman stopping him from going back into the fight as the marine backs up with a small laugh. "He's a devil fruit user" The cook states after earning a pissed off look form Zoro who didn't like the blonde stepping in and already knew that for a fact but this wasn't a good time to argue with him.

The marine laughs letting a big smile show as he steps back a bit more in case the two decide to attack him again "Oh wow so one of you does have a brain" The marine mocks while shaking the cage a little to stop the snake from biting it and trying to get at his fingers "I have the Transfer-Transfer Fruit... anything you do to me i can send right back to you or to someone else" Zoro growls hating that he can't land a blow on this guy and actually hurt him, he thought about just going for the kill but if Sanji was anywhere close there's a chance he could transfer it to the cook. "So thats how Y/n got hurt" Sanji sighs lighting up a cigarette, it still didn't fully make sense since the guy managed to trap you in your own head or something but that didn't matter now, they had to get your snake back "I was wondering since she wasn't actually here to answer may questions maybe you two could? I would have liked to get to know her a little before she dies but- " The marine smiles quite relaxed knowing he has the upper hand, Zoro growls though running at the man despite Sanji trying to stop him the marine dodging fighting back this time with punches and kicks while trying to keep the cage out of reach. Sanji growls trying to find an opening that want get the both of them hurt, he couldn't stand by anymore and let Zoro have all the fun.

Soon finding an opening the cook runs over lighting his foot on fire and jumping into the air bringing his leg down managing to surprise the marine who didn't have much time to react other than raising his arm in defense. The marine screams out unable to move his hand to touch one of them as Zoro swings his sword at the cage slicing it in half and grabbing your snake as it falls out. The two jump back as the marine shoves his arm to the floor letting the damp concrete help put out the fire burning his arm. Zoro holds your snake close as it hisses in pain from his touch but makes no attempt to bite him not wanting to hurt the swordsman "Sorry buddy, just hang in there" Zoro whispers as Sanji joins his side grabbing the swordsman's arm and making a move towards the door "We should go" Sanji pleads with his eyes that Zoro won't argue and just follow him, he didn't want to risk you or your snake getting hurt anymore "Your not going anywhere Vinsmoke" The marine pants yelling out in anger as he holds his arm close to his chest. Hearing the name Sanji stops in his tracks, he hates that last name and doesn't go by it anymore but hearing it still reminds him of his past and what he had to go threw. "Lets go" Zoro whispers not wanting the marine to get the upper hand but the marine already seemed to have a hold the cook and soon he has a hold of Zoro with his question.

The marine smiles seeing he has the cook's attention "Why would she date a Vinsmoke? After what your family did to her and her home i though she would hate you" The man smiles making the cook pant a little not understanding why the marine is saying all this, you would have said something if this was all true, right? "W-What?" Sanji can't help but ask managing to snap Zoro out of his state of shock and grab the cooks hand "Lets go now" The swordsman tries to start moving only for the marine to lock eyes with Sanji and smile "Cozia" The name sends a spike through the cook's heart remembering that day and what his family did. Zoro stops in his tracks too, there were a lot of rumors about that island and the battle that took place there, no one knew for sure what happened since the people who live there never leave the island and since it's a privet place no one is aloud on without permission. The island of Cozia was attacked over 13 years ago by Germa 66, they were looking for something but different people say different things about what happened, Some say that the Vinsmoke's got what they wanted and almost killed everyone and everything on that island while others say they didn't get what they wanted but still burned the village and killed people. Either way they did a lot of damage and no one not even Sanji knows the true outcome of that battle.

Your snake wiggles in Zoro's hand trying to get his attention, it knows what the marine is trying to do and just wants to get back to you, it didn't want to hurt the swordsman but it was starting to think about biting him to get the two to snap out of it. "Your family burned her home, killed her people and tried to take something from her home. i wanted to ask her what and if they got it or not so maybe you can tell me... being a Vinsmoke and all" The marines words stab deep, you never told him any of that, how could you love him after what his family did, he's not one of them anymore, but they have put you through hell. "You ever wonder where those snakes come from? I know... I've wanted to meet the thing that blessed her with such a gift, i was hoping she would introduce me since they were both so close but alas, it seemed your family took that away from her too" Sanji lets out a shaky breath his eyes widen with shock making Zoro growl wanting to shut the marine up the swordsman runs at the man, he didn't think just swings his sword down trying to stop the marine from talking. This man hurt the two people he loves the most something he can't ignore or forgive. "Zoro don't" Sanji yells out being snapped out of his thoughts and trying to run over to stop the swordsman, but he isn't fast enough. Zoro pants glaring at the Marine who stays stood and perfectly unharmed despite the green haired man slashing him across the chest.

A loud pained hissing noise hits the swordsman's ears forcing his eye away from the smiling marine to see your snake withing in pain with the marine's gloved finger touching its chest where a long cut slices through its skin. Zoro's eyes widen as the marine pulls his hand away from the wiggling and almost screaming snake but the marine smiles at the green haired man taking in the look of shock and realization "Well if my plants didn't kill her, i'm sure that did" Sanji's eyes widen at the marine's words but it sparks a burning fire of rage in him, rushing over before the man can react Sanji kicks the marine in the face as hard as he can send the man flying back and through the brick wall. Zoro couldn't take his eyes off your snake as it hissed and wiggled in pain, its tail clinging onto the swordsman's thumb for some kind of comfort, cursing under his breath the swordsman holds your snake close to his chest unable to comprehend what just happened. Sanji glares as the marine who tries to get back up shoving pieces of brick off of him, lighting his foot on fire the cook kicks one of the pants setting it on fire, curing the pants connecting to it and around it to also catch on fire. "No" The marine yells standing up out of the rubble his hand covering half of his bleeding face. Sanji grabs Zoro pulling him out of the burning room and up the stairs as the fire speeds, his fire hot enough to sizzle the water on the floor and reaching high enough to catch the wooden beams on fire.

The swordsman soon snaps out of his own head being pulled up the long stair's by Sanji soon making it to the top and heading back the way they came, the fire bellow starting to make its way up the stairs gripping onto anything it can in order to spread and grow. "Shit... what have i done?" Zoro asks still trying to wrap his head around what happened while his eyes look over the passed out snake in his hand, its head laying on his chest as it tries to breath. Sanji shakes his head while running down the hallways trying to remember the way to the exit "It's not your fault" the cook grits his teeth feeling guilty since if he didn't freeze then Zoro wouldn't have lashed out "We need to get back, the snakes still here so that means Y/n's still alive... you didn't kill her, now come on" The cook yells getting the swordsman to finally pick up his feet and start running instead of being pulled along, a sense of relief washes over the green haired man, you did tell them that if you die your snakes will disappear in some way so since its still here you must be too. "I'm so sorry" Zoro whispers to your passed out snake but also to you, he didn't mean for this to happen, he was supposed to get your snake back not kill it or you.

Robin sat by your side as Chopper sat at his desk trying to make an antidote to the poison with two books laying open in front of him. The other crew members where either off at the marine base or keeping a look out, poor Usopp came back a little while ago to a big mess after trying to get some new plant's for his bullets and now was on high alert and slightly panicking as he kept watch over the ship. "The cure for this poison is kinda complicated" Chopper sighs airing his concern as he mashes the sea kelp into a paste before adding some other medication and pills crushing them too "I know you can does it Chopper's, your the best doctor i know" Robin smiles turning to look at the reindeer whose cheeks turn bright red while swaying side to said "Don't praise me, it doesn't make me happy at all" Robin lets out a small laugh before turning back to your sleeping form. The ice packs under your arms had to be replaced a while ago but your fever is under control now, your muscles still twitch in your red arm while the sores and bumps that litter your arm spreading to your chest show no sigh of fading away. Chopper did a good job stopping the spread of the poison but you still needed the antidote. The doctor puts the paste into a glass and fills it with water steering it well before sticking a needle in and collecting as much as he can, making his way over to the bed Robin helps him up and watches as Chopper injects the green liquid into your bad arm. A groan of pain leaves your lips but you don't wake up or make any attempt to move your arm, Robin sighs while placing a hand on your head stoking your hair lightly to try and reassure you in some way.

Once done Chopper sits on the end of the bed looking you over as the black haired woman keeps stroking your hair "It should start working in the next few minutes but I'll take a while for her to recover fully" The doctor sighs wiping his tired eyes, Robin gives the reindeer a smile before placing her hand on his leg "Take a nap, I'll look after her" Robin's soft voice was hard to say no too so Chopper nods laying down and letting his eyes close while drifting off to sleep. As the minutes ticked by your breathing got a lot better, no more wheezing or heavy breathing trying to catch your breath and your skin started to cool down on its own. Robin noticed the goose bumps appearing on your arms so took the large ice bags away happy that your body is able to regulate its own temperature again, your twitching arm started to slow down, only once in a while making your fingers move while your arm relaxed. Things seemed to be going well until you suddenly wake up screaming in pain making Robin jump a little and Chopper panic being woken up from his nap, red starts to seep threw your shirt as your hands grab at your chest and stomach. Robin and Chopper rush to pull your shirt up seeing a large bleeding slash wound going from your right shoulder to your left hip, despite not knowing where it came from or why it happened the two get to work on trying to stop the bleeding and taking care of the wound. Gasping in shock and pain you watch the two work while trying to hold pressure on your chest and shoulder.

The door to the medical room slams open Usopp running in to see what all the yelling and screaming is about but stops when seeing the blood "are we under attack?" the sniper asks but Robin shakes her head while holding pressure on your stomach all while trying to talk you through the pain and keep you awake for now. You managed to stop screaming out in pain but you couldn't help any groan or slight yell when ever you or Robin moved or shifted on the cut. Jumping off the bed the doctor runs over to his medical box grabbing needles and thread and medication "Usopp take over from Y/N" Chopper yells grabbing as many bandages as he can carry before running back over and hopping up onto the bed. Usopp jumps at the command not fully understanding what to do but soon notices your hand holding your shoulder and chest, the sniper rushes over and grabs some of the pads that Chopper hands out holding them to the slash wound letting your arms relax. The doctor pushes some drugs into your system to help with the pain making you feel kinda dizzy and light-headed as he gets to work trying to stitch wound closed. "Why does this keep happening?" You whine out trying not to push the three of them off of you, the pain was dulled a little but with every stitch or shift of pressure it sent a wave of pain through your body. "I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sure Zoro and Sanji are doing everything they can" Robin keeps a calm soothing voice trying to help keep you grounded but you raise an eyebrow at her suddenly realizing that your two boys aren't here.

Worry flows through you wonder if there ok and where they are. "What?" you ask focusing on the back haired woman instead of the pain, Usopp looks over your wound his eyes widening as his mind works seeming to figure out who caused this slash. "They went after your snake, they wanted to help" Robin answers but turns to look at Usopp who gulps and shakes a little, her eyes telling him not to say anything but you can already tell what the sniper is thinking. It doesn't matter if this was caused by Zoro, you know he would never intentionally hurt you and this also means that your snake is alive, its most likely in pain but at least it's still with you and you have faith that your boys will bring it home to you. "It was a trap" you sigh looking up at the ceiling trying to calm your breathing down "I don't know how but when he grabbed my snake it was like i was actually there with him" You whisper feeling tired but for some reason you felt the need to inform the others of what happened, Robin places a free hand on your hand trying to comfort you "There is no log pose or poneglyph, he set up those rumors to get us there" Squeezing your hand Robin shushes you watching as your breathing goes back to normal "It's ok Y/n, once everyone's on the ship we'll just leave" Usopp sighs trying to keep pressure on your shoulder while you lay back trying to relax and let them work.

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albertasunrise · 1 year

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Only You - When Benny Met...

Masterlist

Summary: Having spent most of your life in relationships that went nowhere. You struggled to trust that this man… this ray of sunshine… wouldn’t leave you eventually. (18+)

Relationships: Reader x Ben Miller

Warnings:Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. (So bit of a short chapter but I promise they'll get longer... enjoy 🙊)

Series Masterlist

"Stitch!... I know you're about to clock out but we got a 40-year-old male in bay six, laceration to left arm. Dude's lucky, just missed his Brachial Artery... Guy apparently hit on the guys wife, couldn't take no for an answer."

"Why can't you do it?" You sighed as you threw your colleague a sideways glare.

"We all know you're the best at stitching folks up. I have a tone of patients I need to see and you'd be doing me a solid if you could stitch him up and get him on his way."

"Spencer I-"

"He's got a cute friend with him." Your colleague pushed and you rolled your eyes.

"Because that's the way to convince me."

"Come on Stitch... Please!" Spencer pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you sighed, snatching the patient file away.

"Fine but you owe me!" You grumbled, pointing a finger at him in a warning manner.

"One hundred per cent!" Spencer replied, hands together like he was in prayer.

"Let's go see what the damage is then hmm?"

...

"You doing okay there Fish?" Ben asked as he gave his friend's uninjured arm a squeeze.

"They got me on the good shit so all things considered... Not too bad." The pilot chuckled, giving his brother-in-arms a dopey smile as he looked up at the blonde.

"Glad to hear it Fishsticks." Ben replied, head darting up as the privacy curtain of Frankie's cubicle was pulled back.

You weren't what Ben was expecting.

You smiled at him as you entered, eyes sparkling under the fluorescent light. He couldn't help but be captivated by you. Your soft features and striking eyes instantly enchanted him.

"Dr Sheppard... You got awful pretty since we last saw you." Benny flirted, grinning at the amused eye roll you gave him.

"Dr Spencer has asked me to use my fine Stitching skills and help your friend." You replied, holding out your hand then to introduce yourself "Mr Morales, how are we feeling?"

"We're feeling goooood." He drawled, eliciting a grin from you and Ben.

"Feeling a little high are we?" You chuckled before pulling back the bandage that covered his injury 'Yikes... They got you good huh?"

"Should have seen the other guy" Frankie grumbled and you chuckled.

"You got him good Fish." Benny assured his friend, giving him a firm nod before returning his attention to you "He got a few punches him before the guy sliced him."

"I don't condone violence." You warned and Ben grimaced.

"I won't tell you what I do for a living then."

"What you beat people up?"

"That's exactly what he does." Frankie replied as he attempted to big up his friend, only to chuckle after.

"I'm an MMA fighter." Ben clarified "Special forces before that."

"Explains Fish." You chuckled as you pulled on your gloves and started to prep what you needed to stitch Frankie up.

You administered some general, noting the flinch on Ben's face when you pierced his friend's flesh.

"If you hate needles... I don't recommend you watch the next part." You chuckled as you readied the needle.

"I'll be fine." Ben replied, eyes going wide as brought the needle to Frankie's flesh.

That was the last thing he said before he blacked out.

Six months later...

"Hey, Princessa." You gushed as you welcomed baby Lila with open arms.

"I thought that was my nickname." Benny pouted as he gave you a friendly nudge.

"Oh, you're just, Princess!" You teased "Princessa is reserved for this little angel."

"How you doing Stitch?" Frankie asked as he sat down beside its wife "Work still hell?"

"It's A&E Fish... It's always hell." You chuckled, eyed flitting up to the pilot before returning to the smiley baby in your arms "How's this little one sleeping?"

"Believe it or not but she sleeps right through." Replied Maria as she laid her head on her husband's shoulder "Pretty sure we've got a trick baby on our hands."

"Got so many friends who ended up having another baby because their first one was perfect!" You giggled "But, it could just be that you two are acing this parenting shit."

"Definitely the latter." Pipped up Ben and you smiled at him sweetly.

"Suck up." Piped up Will, eliciting a hearty laugh from everyone but Ben.

You had never expected, after meeting Ben and Frankie all those months ago, that you would have gained such amazing friends. Ben had practically begged you for your number and you had given in. You'd not been able to resist his kind eyes and you'd found yourself excited at the prospect of going out with him. Turned out he just wanted to be friends.

Or at least, that's what you thought.

Ben had been over the moon that you'd given him your number. He'd spent that whole evening trying to plan the perfect date. Fancy restaurant, followed by a romantic walk on the beach and a kiss under the stars. But nerves got the better of him and he'd suggested going for a drink. It was safer. If things went bad you both had an easy out. Then as the night had come around, he'd ended up inviting the guys last minute and that's how you'd ended up becoming part of his circle.

Just not his girlfriend.

Now six months down the line, he was still kicking himself for not acting when he should have.

“Hey, babe… Sorry, I’m late. Got stuck on a call that I thought was never going to end.”

Ben watched as the guy who had, had the spine to act kissed you sweetly and his stomach twisted at the smile you gave the man as he pulled away.

“Well look who you have.” He gushed as he stroked little Lila’s cheek “You’ve gotten so big, little lady.”

“She’s growing like a weed!” Maria gushed “Already in 3-6 months clothes!”

“You’re still so cute n’ little though!” You cooed as you cuddled the baby closer, smiling when she gave you a gummy yawn and nuzzled in closer.

“Suits you.” Said Mike as he leaned in closer to kiss you.

“What does?” You asked, giving him a bemused look.

“The baby!”

His reply took you by surprise.

You had been dating Mike for a little over four months. You'd met him on one of your many nights out with the guys and had been swept away by his brown eyes and easy smile. You had found yourself settling into an easy relationship with Mike. It wasn't exciting like the ones you read about in your erotic novels but it was safe. Warm and cosy. He made you feel beautiful and that was more than you'd ever hoped for.

Ben felt his heart shatter when he heard Mike's statement. He watched the two of you as you smiled and giggled whilst fawning over the tiny person sleeping soundly in your arms, hating that it wasn't him. He knew he was to blame for how things had turned out. He'd lost his nerve. He had never felt like this about anyone before. It was love at first sight for him. Something that up until that day in the hospital, he'd never believed in.

Then you walked in. Soft smiles and kind eyes and he'd fallen for you instantly.

Standing abruptly he made his way over to the bar, oblivious to the concerned look Frankie threw his way.

"I'll be back in a sec." The pilot said, kissing his wife's cheek before following the younger Miller over to the bar.

"Another beer please." Ben called out to the barman, ignoring the presence that had appeared beside him.

He knew who it was and he knew what the man wanted to talk about but he wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to get drunk. Numb himself from the pain he was feeling at seeing you so happy with someone else.

"Ben..."

"Don't!" The younger man warned but Frank was having none of it.

"You need to tell her how you feel."

"And what is that gonna achieve?" Ben spat "She's got him now."

"Maybe if she knew the truth, she might-"

"Leave him?" Ben scoffed "Leave the bigshot restaurant owner for the MME fighter that's just recently moved out of his Brother's basement?... Yeah, I'm a real catch!"

"Ben-"

"She's better off not knowing." Ben choked "At least I can have her as a friend. Telling her would only fuck that up."

"You should give yourself some credit brother." Frankie sighed as he gave his friend's arm a reassuring squeeze "You're too hard on yourself."

"I'm just being realistic." Ben growled "I had my chance and I blew it!" He sobbed "Now she's with a guy that can give her everything she deserves."

"But so can you!" Frank argued, pulling a scoff from Ben "And I'd argue that you'd make her way happier than that Mike ever could."

"I don't know Fish..."

"Just tell her!... What have you got to lose?"

"Everything."

Frankie's words echoed in his head for the rest of the evening. He knew his friend was right but he didn't know if he could risk losing you. You had become such an integral part of his life. You had become so close. Best friends one might say and he didn't want to lose what he had. He would get over you eventually, he couldn't remain in love with you forever... right?

This would pass.

This pain would pass.

So as he’d laid in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling as images of your face flashed in front of his eyes he decided that it was best to just bury his feelings. Having you as a friend was better than not having you at all. So the weeks and months that followed played out like the ones that came before them. You and Ben would have your movie nights. Evenings at the bar with the guys and gossip over WhatsApp like two grandmas at Bingo.

But the pain Benny felt didn't fade.

He watched you fall harder and harder for Mike. Listen to you gush about the expensive restaurants and flash bars he took you to. The presents he showered you with. Ben hated that this man was able to give you everything he wanted to give you. He couldn't help but feel like Mike was showering you with all this because he was hiding something.

That something came in the form of a busty blonde that nine months into your relationship, you'd found playing tonsil tennis with the man you'd thought was the man you were going to marry.

How wrong you'd been.

"How could I have been so blind?" You sobbed, spooning a ridiculously large scoop of ice cream into your mouth.

"You weren't blind Stitch... He's an asshole!" Benny growled before pulling your closer "Guy clearly didn't realise what he had!"

You scoffed at Ben's statement.

"What?"

"This is just how things go for me, Ben." You sobbed "I meet a guy... fall in love with him and then he either leaves me or cheats on me."

You ate a few more spoonfuls of ice cream before dumping the tub onto your coffee table and scrubbing a hand over your tear-streaked face.

"Maybe I should just quit."

"Quit what?" Ben pushed and you groaned.

"Men!" You expelled "I mean... I'm not the sort of girl destined for marriage and kids."

"What the hell makes you think that?"

"I don't have a flat stomach, my thighs don't have a gap and my arms aren't toned." You scoffed "I'm the girl a guy dates to make him look like he's not shallow... Date a fat girl for a while and you'll look like you're deep... See past flaws-"

"Okay, I gotta stop you there." Ben snapped "You are not fat." He started, pointing at you "You are one of the most beautiful women I know... Inside and out."

"Ben-"

"Mike was a fucking idiot for letting you slip through his fingers and if he-"

Ben was interrupted by knocking at your front door.

"I can get it if you want."

"No, it's fine." You replied, pushing yourself to your feet "Probably just Mrs Bell in need of sugar again."

When you opened the door and saw Mike standing there the air was stolen from your lungs. His eyes were red and puffy. Almost like he'd been crying.

"What do you want Mike?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I wanted to talk." He said, almost pleadingly "Explain."

"Explain why you cheated?" Ben growled as he stepped up behind you.

"Of course, you're here." Mike growled and you sighed at the remark.

"What?" Ben snapped, stepping forward only to be stopped by your hand on his chest.

"I mean that you seem to always be here when I'm not." Mike growled "Can't accept that you missed your chance."

"Mike." You warned and the man backed down "Ben, I need to talk to Mike alone." You stated as you turned to look at the man standing behind you.

"But you'll-"

"I'll be fine." You assured him "Best get going. You got your fight later."

"You sure?" Ben asked and you nodded sweetly at him.

"I'm sure."

Ben walked back into your apartment to grab his coat before leaving, hugging you tightly on his way out.

"Call me if you need anything."

"I will." You assured him, giving him a small smile before watching him leave.

Ben didn't like the idea of leaving you alone with that man. He knew Mike had a hold over you and he worried that he'd manage to worm his way back into your life again.

If only he'd just taken you on that date.

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idolatrybarbie · 8 months

Text

the world tipped on its side

chapter three - bad miracle

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 6.4k

rating & summary: mature | you get a phone call. frankie leads you to pensacola beach, florida.

warnings: ANGST, discussions of health and disability, discussions of surgery, details of physical injury, (the briefest) mentions of suicidal ideation, grief/mourning, reader has a disability, reusing a bit of dialogue from a glee (yes) fic i wrote in high school.

notes: OKAY so i know i am like...really making you work for the porn here. sorry. take this gut-wrenching bullshit instead ??? also thank youuu gin for cheering me on in the DMs and for getting more eyes on my little fic, you are truly the bestest.

You don’t see Frankie for a few days, things operating as usual on set as the last week of June slips by. His number is in your phone now, but you don’t call. Sam goes back to Texas over the weekend and Mia returns to the top of your frequent calls list. After that evening with Frankie things feel different between you and your best friend. You want to ask her all the things she’s keeping from you—or more, all the things she might know you keep from her. White lies and omissions that have spiralled out of your control.

You didn’t realize that lying had become so easy, almost like second nature. How hard it is now to start being honest without the fragile, springy web coming apart and Mia seeing all of it. All of you.

That night, after driving back to set from 7-Eleven and saying your goodbyes to Frankie in the dark parking lot, you went home and stared at yourself for a while in the bathroom mirror. Maybe if you squinted hard enough, you could see what he was always observing within you. All you could see, half naked in front of the glass, were all the signs of medical interference on your body. The spindly scars all along the column of your neck and top of your spine, disappearing into the hair at the base of your skull that was slightly shorter than the rest. The permanent shadow of a line under your chest, a faint reminder of where the vested neck brace sat along your ribs.

You’re sitting in your car, scarfing down apple slices from the craft services table when your phone buzzes in your lap. The number isn’t listed in your contacts, but you recognize it immediately.

“Dr. Lopez,” you say as you answer the call.

“It’s just me honey.” Not Dr. Lopez but her sweet older receptionist, Dawn. “The good doctor wanted me to remind you about your appointment this week. July third at eleven o’clock. You can still make it I assume,” she says.

Shit. Your standing quarterly appointment that you’d already had to push back twice.

“Right, yeah. Should be fine.” You nod like she can see you now.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then. Have a good morning,” Dawn says.

“You too. Bye,” you say. Dawn hangs up first, surely eager to get to that next reminder phone call.

You’ve got shit to shoot that day, but an explanation and your pointed absence should be enough to get those scenes pushed back until after the holiday. Ashton will surely remark about bleeding money for half a day’s work, and you’re already rolling your eyes at the anticipated argument. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Your health comes first, always.

Someone knocks at the window on the other side of your car. Mia waves at you, a stash of fruit bundled in her right arm as she uses her left to pull the door open.

“Hey,” she says with a huff, taking a seat next to you.

“Did you raid crafty?”

“Are you going to eat it?” she asks.

You answer by snatching the banana from the crook of her elbow, peeling it upside down before you take a bite.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

It’s always tough for Mia in the days after Sam goes back home. That’s when she’s the one calling you at midnight, needing someone to talk to about nothing and everything. How much of a prick Ashton is, this new yoga routine she’s started that really unlocks one of her chakras, the guy with the sundial collection two doors down from you back in school.

“I’m doin’ alright,” she says. Mia slowly tears at a cutie mandarin, keeping the peel in her lap. “I think about the fact that we only have to do this for so much longer and feel a little bit better.”

“That’s good,” you say.

One thing about Mia is that she loves with her whole heart. Many of her past relationships ended because she wanted more, what her partners considered too much. She’d explained it once, tearful as she used the flat sheet of her twin bed to wipe at her eyes.

“I can’t just stop falling in love with someone. It turns into this free fall. I start to pour myself into this thing, like some sort of void. And it’ll never be full, but that’s okay because there’s supposed to be someone on the other end. Receiving all of that and returning it back to me.”

All you could do then, all you can still do now is nod silently. You have never felt that way about someone. Wasting away on love that will never be reciprocated sounds horrible and exhausting. Watching Mia lose herself in relationships to guys who meant zilch in comparison to the bright and shining star that she is taught you better. If she was decimated by a love like that, you would be absolutely destroyed.

“How’s your banana?”

“Starchy,” you say, mouth still full. You swallow. “Got that doctor’s appointment this week.”

“Oh? Is everything okay?” You hate that look in her eyes, oozing a concern so deep and immediate that it almost winds you.

“All fine. It’s just that quarterly thing. She wants to make sure I’m not dying,” you explain.

Mia hums, eyes on the citrus in her hand. She stops peeling, worry still intense all over. “You would tell me, right? If something was wrong?”

“Of course,” you say, a lie that rolls smoothly off your tongue. Internally you’re already kicking yourself. At the last specialist appointment, the doctor had taken x-rays of your skull, neck, and back. This was the appointment to discuss whatever they’d found with Dr. Lopez, and set out on the next steps in your care plan, if any at all. The fact that Dr. Lopez was so insistent about meeting each time you have had to reschedule tells you it isn’t nothing.

“I hope it goes well,” Mia says.

She pops a sliver of the fruit into her mouth. You adjust your seat back, laying diagonal to the gas pedal to rest your back. For a moment, the sun and silence drifts peacefully between you.

The furniture in the practice’s lobby is twenty years out of style; the fabric chairs all dark wood and fern green cushions as they form a double row in the middle of the carpeted room. Each piece of art that covers the wall space is dull and generic. A winter landscape here, mushy brown leaves there. It smells—like old people, like tiny sticky fingers, like ammonia.

When the nurse finally leads you to the last exam room on the left, your heart speeds up. This is where she butters you up, says all these sweet things before Dr. Lopez comes in and tells you that you’re going to be in a wheelchair in the next ten years. But all she does is watch you take a seat on the crinkly, sheer paper on the leather examination bed and ask if you need anything else.

“I’m fine,” you say. Then she’s gone.

You sit and wait for maybe five minutes, mind oscillating between the worst and the reality. Reality is, you’re here. Clearly this is about something, something the good doctor cannot tell you over the phone. Realistically, though, if you were going to die she would have told you by now.

When Dr. Lopez enters, your heart and mind pause simultaneously.

“Relax,” is the first thing she says, and you feel your tense muscles rest to unstrain themselves.

Why that worked, you’re unsure. Regardless, you say, “Thank you. Hi.”

“Hi,” Dr. Lopez returns. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you’ve been feeling.”

“Work’s been kind of getting to me lately,” you say. Not entirely a lie. Everything has been getting to you.

“How’s your limb function?”

“Fine. I haven’t had anything go numb on me in a couple of months.”

Dr. Lopez nods, taking a seat at the empty cushioned chair so that she’s at your level. “That’s good. Would you say you’re doing better?”

You have the urge to say maybe, to give her (and by extension, yourself) a little bit of hope amidst all of this. But you tell her the truth and say no. “That new mattress doesn’t really do anything. My neck is still stiff, and the nerve pain is almost constant.”

“You’re taking all of your medication?”

“And then some. I have an Advil delivery on auto-renewal,” you say.

“There’s an opportunity,” Dr. Lopez says.

“An opportunity,” you repeat.

“For you, for your spine. Surgery,” she continues.

“Okay,” you say slowly.

“I have to warn you that there are no guarantees, and the procedure is highly invasive. Moreso than your last.”

After your first and only surgery following the accident, you woke up feeling unlike yourself. Like someone had sliced you open and stolen a piece of your being while you were asleep on the table. Your skin didn’t feel like your own anymore. Your body was telling you something was still very wrong, as you would learn through the healing process. The pain stayed behind, even as the stitches closed and the skin at your neck mended itself into scars.

This was more invasive. Immediately, you are thoroughly uninterested, shaking your head.

“No. I can’t do that again,” you say.

She sighs. “I understand. They’ve performed the surgery a few times before to some highly successful results, which is why I brought it to your attention.” She’s shuffling through the manila file folder with all of your medical records now.

“Some,” you say.

“Pardon?”

“You said some. What about the others?”

Dr. Lopez purses her lips. She was probably hoping you wouldn’t ask. “Some other patients have seen little to no improvement to their condition or in their pain. And a small minority have experienced worsened pain and further limiting of their mobility.”

You could almost laugh. “And you want me to jump at this golden opportunity to disable myself more?” It’s rude, and you hate the way it comes out of your mouth as soon as you’ve said it.

Dr. Lopez eats the gut punch, shuffling on. “I know there’s a risk, but there’s always a risk. Without further surgery, your condition will worsen over time regardless. I thought this could be an opportunity. But if—”

“Can I think about it?” you ask. “I need to finish this project I’m working on before I can make any decisions. Could you give me the month?”

“Yes, I can do that,” Dr. Lopez says. She says your name, soft and low. The skin around her eyes crinkles, the only eyes involved in any of your medical experiences that has looked at you like another human being; like another soul. “You need to believe that things will get better or they never will. I understand that this…is not how you imagined your life going. But you have to hold space for something good within yourself. Miracles can occur.”

Now you really do laugh, a small snort out your nose as the right side of your mouth quirks up. “I’m not holding out any hope.”

Hope is a funny thing, though. It lingers, festering somewhere inside you in the hours that follow the appointment. If things go well, this could change your life. There’s that pesky word again—if. The surgery could change your life for the worse, too, bringing effects of the injury that are fifteen years away closer to fifteen months. Had this dilemma been posed to the old you, the better you, it would be a no-brainer. She was a risk-taker, fearless in her endeavours once she got a taste of what life could be like on the other side of chance. Now you hedge your bets. Take the jobs as they come, playing it safe with the projects you’re attached to.

You call Mia when you know production is at lunch, laying on your couch as you try and fail to bask in the peace granted to you by taking an emergency day.

“Hi,” you say as soon as the line picks up.

“Hey! How’d the appointment go?” she asks.

“Alright.” You shrug like she can see you. “Doc had some information for me, just thinking about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mia asks. The bustle of background noise disappears as you hear a door click on her end.

“I’d like to think about anything but,” you say. “What’s going on there?”

“Ashton losing his mind in real time. Before we broke for lunch I was sure he was about to start shouting at people.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Looking forward to it.”

“At least you’ve got the holiday,” Mia says. “This is like your mid-week weekend.”

Right. Independence Day. You already know Mia has plans; she and Sam have been driving to the small, unincorporated town of Juliette for the holiday ever since she followed you down south. Every summer, she asks you to join them, and each time you say no. This year she didn’t bother to ask.

“I’m sure there’s stuff going on in the city,” Mia offers, “or you could go to Florida, hop on some boat for the night. Or follow Frankie.” She laughs as she says it, but the mention of his name has you perking up.

“What?” you ask.

“He’s headed to Florida tonight. Got this air show tomorrow, down at—shit, where was it? Pensacola something. Pensacola Beach.”

“You spoke to him?”

“He stopped by early this morning. Looking for you actually, but Priscilla told him that you’d called out,” Mia says.

“So Florida, huh?” You sit up, pulling your laptop off the coffee table.

“I mean why not?” Mia muses. “Maybe it could be good for you.” Her voice morphs into something softer, less amiable and airy.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say. You wedge the phone between your ear and shoulder, typing at your keyboard.

“But listen, whatever you get up to, text me alright? Even if it’s nothing.” Mia knows you well enough to predict your usual Fourth of July activities: curling up in bed with earplugs and a good DVD, the blinds drawn over your window. “I’ll send you some photos of the fireworks from the river.”

“Sounds good,” you say, half-distracted.

Mia mumbles her goodbye and you hang up, focused on the information passing your screen with every few clicks. In just a couple of minutes, you’ve found the Pensacola Air Show’s website. The when and where details of the event cover the landing page. There's several others, links leading to a detailed history of the show and images from past events that you skip right over. At the bottom of the tab sits exactly what you are looking for, clicking the highlighted link that says Pilots. Organized alphabetically, you find Frankie halfway down the list. What had Mia said? Or follow Frankie… Puppy, meet postman.

The picture used beside his blurb of professional experience is of a Frankie you’ve never seen before. He’s a little younger, clean-shaven in a pressed uniform, the American flag at his left shoulder. This must be his flight school portrait. He looks less weather-worn, all the weight of a life in the military yet to settle heavy over him.

In the following hour, you manage to book a room at some seedy motel in West Pensacola and pack a duffel bag with a day’s worth of clothes. You raid the kitchen, tossing bottles of water and a few granola bars in your bag for the road. Leaving at almost eleven o’clock, you set out for the very edge of Florida’s beaches.

The streets are quiet once again, the community of Cobb County asleep in their beds as you drive, stopping at an intersection. The security lights of the Kroger next to the road bathe you in a harsh white glow, lighting up the shadowy interior of the car. You look down at yourself, seated behind the wheel, ready to drive five hours and some change to go…watch planes circle between the sea and sky.

What are you doing? You aren’t quite sure at the moment. For once, the feeling is invigorating, not hapless.

It’s only when you start passing through Union City on the 403 that you begin to second guess your decision. You stop in East Newnan, the last “big” town for a little while, to use the bathroom. You buy a map and a gas station churro too, hunger getting the best of you; a stunning example of hypocrisy that you can never tell Frankie about. Something tells you he would never let it go.

The roads turn from the dry grey of asphalt to slick black, rain pooled onto the solid surface. A storm must’ve been through here recently, tall crops on either side of the highway swaying with residual winds.

Driving over the Chattahoochee River, you pull into the town of Opelika about twenty minutes later. You park away from the street lights in a Burger King parking lot, waiting for an oncoming bout of exhaustion to either pass or take you to sleep in the front seat. The radio buzzes softly from the car speakers, keeping the beat of your brain as your thoughts drift.

The question still remains: what are you doing, really? Are you so desperate for human connection that you’ll practically stalk the first person who piques your interest?

When you open your eyes again, the sky is light outside your windshield. Stores are still closed in the plaza around you. The car’s analog display tells you it’s barely seven o’clock in the morning.

Back on the road, you watch the world waking up through your windows. Montgomery, Hope Hull, and Letohatchee all pass by before you pull to the side of the road for a stretch. You take a bottle from your bag and chug water sitting on the hood of your car. You take your pills, looking up at the bright blue. Out here, far away from any city, the view is better than you could have imagined.

It’s another three and a half hours before you reach Pensacola, Florida. Eternal beachiness plagues the town, even in the suburbs away from the coast. The Western Inn slouches at the end of the street, sitting just off Mobile Highway with its rough, mint-tinted roof. Checking in at the front desk, a man certainly older than sliced bread hands you a set of jingling keys that unlock a room on the first floor.

The place is nothing special. The toilet is rusted, floors a weepy grey linoleum. The quilt that envelopes the bed is truly garish, dark red lilies and green palm fronds littering the expanse of the fabric. A sad room for your sad journey down to Florida, to see a man you hardly know do what he does best.

You never took a road trip before the accident. There are a lot of things that you never got to do, things that you’d be unable to now: hike across Europe, or drive a race car, or scale the side of the Empire State Building. A road trip seemed so out of the question—where would you go, what could you do—and yet here you are.

At noon, you take a rideshare to the beach. It’s a good thing, too—there’s barely a spot for the driver to idle and let you out of the car, never mind to park.

The sun beats down on you, hot and relentless, the air muggy with warmth. Still, the view of the water is beautiful. Beyond a crowding of luxury beach resorts, the water is as blue and clear as the sky. Waves rush up to the white sand every few moments, the foamy suds receding back into the ocean with its pull. When was the last time you went swimming? You should’ve brought a bathing suit.

Pensacola’s pier stretches out in front of you a thousand feet long. You stay on the shore, taking your shoes in your hands, balling your socks and stuffing them into the left one. The sand is soft on your skin. You dig your toes into its warmth, a small smile gracing your face. It has been so long since you’ve felt something like this.

An announcer farther down the water starts speaking into a microphone, her voice booming across the beach. She introduces the event, all business and no frills, before the sound of her speaking disappears again. The planes are off, moving in the sky before you have time to register what’s happening. Blue and yellow-striped navy planes—the Blue Angels, you remember from the website—jet into your field of view, puffy trails of white exhaust following them wherever they move. A half an hour passes, the blue jets trailing each other, flying upside down, and moving with the skill and synchronicity of an Olympic gymnastics team.

A fleet of five grey planes follow up the first performance, pulling stunts that moreso scare than amaze you. They fly in almost-circles, spinning around each other graciously in the sky before one parts from the group, dipping low. So low, you think the aircraft is about to skate along the water and fly into the Gulf of Mexico. The pilot pulls up just in time, shooting into the air at a thirty degree angle before circling back to join the identical planes.

That’s Frankie, it must be. In truth, you don’t know for sure, but you can feel it. The movements of the plane mimic that of his own, the casual sass of it all, like it’s no big deal. You imagine him in the cockpit, sweating but grinning under his helmet. Suddenly, you’re an expert in analysing the personal swagger of planes.

Another two hours passes in a blistering haze. Eventually, you put your shoes back on and take shelter in a gift shop, the sun too much for your body to handle. You buy lunch—a tall souvenir cup of freshly squeezed lemonade and a hot dog—before finding the only bench in shade left along the sandy strip. The sun eases up as more people filter away from this beach, either back to their cars or further along the sand towards Navarre.

You almost choke on the dregs of your pulpy lemonade when you spot him, Frankie, in line at one of the few other food trucks along the beach. Silently, you weigh your options. Going over and talking to him is fine, probably, but what if it isn’t? What if he thinks you’re a freak for showing up here, on this…public beach. Okay, maybe it’s fine. You can play this off as a funny coincidence.

You are up and walking over before you can think about it any longer, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He turns, aviators protecting his eyes from the sun. Frankie says your name with an easy grin.

“Funny seeing you here,” he says.

“You too.” You shield your eyes from the sun.

He removes his sunglasses, hooking them in the collar of his t-shirt. “You down here for the show then?”

You hum. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” he repeats, then nods.

When it’s Frankie’s turn to order, he steps up to the window and asks for waffle fries. “You want anything?”

“Oh no,” you say, shaking your head. “I just had a bite.”

“Gotcha.” He pays, then steps to the side of the line to wait for the food.

“Did you like it?” Frankie asks, cutting in on your thoughts.

“Sorry?”

“The show, d’you like it?” he asks again.

Right. The air show that you drove five hours to, rented a motel room for, bought a very overpriced rideshare to go see. That’s why you’re here.

“Yeah,” you say. “It was pretty cool. I kept half-expecting one of you to crash into the water.”

Frankie’s hand gets a gentle hold on your shoulder as he gives you a friendly pat. It burns at the skin exposed to his warm fingers. “That’s half the excitement,” he says.

When he’s handed a striped cardboard basket of waffle fries, Frankie absolutely douses them in both vinegar and orange seasoning salt. You try not to make a face. Clearly, you’re unsuccessful. The laugh you pull from his chest seems like it rips through him, up his throat and gloriously into the space between you.

Frankie starts to walk and you join him. He asks about the drive; you tell him you got here this morning, coming straight from Atlanta.

“I never realized how beautiful it is, away from everything,” you say.

“You don’t go camping often, I take it,” Frankie says.

You shake your head no, words clogging your throat like a knot once again.

“You should. I know this great spot, right up in Alabama too…” He ends his sentence there, blinking away whatever was supposed to follow it up.

“I wish. With work I barely have time to make dinner most nights.” Not untrue, but not the truth either. You could make time, somewhere in your calendar. Make use of the off-days between projects when all you do is rot against the mattress.

Frankie launches into a camping story from his childhood, when his dad drove them from Texas to Michigan in the dead of winter so they could both see some snow. The stay was tumultuous at best, your eyes widening as he tells you about how none of their gear worked properly.

“Really, I think the only thing that kept us alive for those couple o’ days was the campfire my pops kept up the whole time,” Frankie says.

The sun is setting slowly along the horizon now, the beach drawing a fresh crowd. The group is smaller than before, people awaiting the fireworks to begin popping off of luxury yachts in the distance.

“I have no idea how he did that, but I’m glad you didn’t freeze to death,” you say. “I would be royally screwed without a lighter or something.”

“You don’t know how to build a campfire?” Frankie asks.

“Nope.”

“Oh well, that’s gotta change.”

You two are back on the sand now, shoes in your hands as you walk along the grainy plains. He walks a little away from you, drifting to wherever a stray stick or smaller log lies on the ground. Once he’s collected a bundle of them, Frankie joins you again. He drops the wood to the sandy floor, sitting down in a deep hill of it. Then he’s scooping sand with his palms, leaving a hole in front of him. You sit down and join him, watching as he lays the varying sticks and driftwood into a nest of sorts.

Frankie takes one stick, running it between a deep wedge in one of the drier logs back and forth. After a few minutes of this, he sighs and pulls a lighter from his back pocket, lighting the stick before tossing it to the bed of wood.

“Had that worked, I would’ve been extremely impressed,” you say.

“Had that worked, I would have expected some sort of prize,” he says.

“I’ve got a solid high five or a pat on the back as consolation?”

Frankie raises his palm towards you, and you slap it eagerly. “That’ll suffice. I’m feeling consoled.”

“It’s too humid out here anyway. Luck is not on our side tonight,” you sigh.

“I don’t know. I feel it,” he says. You give him a curious look. “Lucky to do what I love, lucky to be here. Lucky you’re here.”

“I don’t know if luck has anything to do with it,” you say. You and Frankie have already had this conversation.

“Do you feel unlucky?” he asks.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It’s just a question,” Frankie says. “But I know you’re squirrely about answering those.”

The sky is dark and the sun is gone, almost like it was never there. Fireworks start up behind you, beside you, in front of you. God bless America.

You mull over your usual two options. Deflecting—I’m honestly not that interesting. Or derisive—Not everyone can have a postcard perfect life.

You choose the outlier, a third option. The truth.

"You believe in a bad miracle?" you ask, your voice so quiet that the sound is almost swallowed by the fireworks. Almost.

"What do you mean, a bad miracle?" Frankie asks.

"Like, something unbelievable. Astonishing, you know? But maybe it's not good. Maybe it'd been better if it didn't happen at all."

"I guess," he says. "Why? Had any of those lately?"

You laugh, the sound small and stifled. "You know about the pills," you say—not a question, but a statement. Everyone knows about the pills. They're always on you, almost a part of you, chattering at your waist with every step.

"Yeah," Frankie admits. "Never asked. I didn't want to pry."

A long moment of silence draws on between you. It's your turn to speak, but you can't. What are you supposed to say? You've never told this story to anyone. Mia was there when it happened, and then she was at the hospital, explaining it all. After that, any doctor that you came across simply read your chart. No need for explanations.

"I had an accident," is where you start. "Two years ago. This shoot was weird. Underwater shit in Kaua'i. We were out along these rocks, away from all those beautiful beaches. I was supposed to dive, and like, swim down to the bottom.” Your voice cracks, popping like a candle wick. When did your face become wet with tears?

"So I dove, but no one signaled that there was a wave coming. The stunt coordinator was just entirely off his ass. I got flipped around right under the surface and the uh, the force from the wave knocked me—"

You can't remember everything now, couldn't remember when you woke up in a Hawaiian hospital either. You remember the searing pain after the surgery, the sensation that haunts you now, settled to a dull ebb with time and medication.

"I'm sorry," Frankie says.

"Not your fault. And anyway, I should be happy. Right? That's what the doctors said. That it was a fucking miracle I wasn't paralyzed, or something to that extent. And they’re right. It's a privilege that I'm not pissing myself all the time, that I can even sit here and bitch about it but..." you trail off. "It's kind of dark," is all you say.

"It's fine," Frankie says.

"Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better if I just hadn't made it. Like, this—this life? It’s my bad miracle." Nothing. Crickets. "Morbid, right?"

After a while, Frankie shakes his head. "No. I mean, yeah, but—" He half-shrugs. "My friend, Santiago? The asshole. He's kind of in a similar situation."

"Oh?" you question.

"They offered him another surgery, to fix the issue. He told me he asked if they were sure the procedure would kill him if anything went wrong this time," Frankie says. "So I guess that's his. Bad miracle, I mean."

There's something in his eyes, shiny and unobstructed for but a moment. A glint that makes you want to ask him, what's yours?

When Frankie looks away, he's seemingly snapping you from an overly open stupor as well. The weight of your words settles over you, a small look of horror flickering across your face before you reign it in against the dark.

You shift away from his body in the sand. You've just shoveled a small landfill of your bullshit onto this man, your coworker, and you can't take it back. You can see the words floating like the specks in your office. Bad miracle, hospital, paralyzed. You wish you could grab them from where they move between the two of you and shove them back into your mouth, down your throat where they would effectively die.

Frankie gives you a curious hum, eyebrows quirked as he looks at you under the brief, exploding lights in the sky.

"I should not have said all that. That was so unprofessional. I—"

He says your name, staring at you again. "It's fine. You're fine. We're not at work."

After a while, the waves lapping at the sand, you say, "This doesn't mean you get to pity me or anything."

"Pity you?" Frankie asks. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," you say. "When people find out, or even just after the accident, it's like living a gravy train of apologies and expectations. Other people's sorrow."

"I mean, I get it. You can be sorry it happened," Frankie says.

"I guess. I don’t really understand.” Then, “Condolences feel like empty bombs of other people’s grief passed off to the grieving for defusal. What's anyone supposed to do with that?"

Frankie's looking out at the water, the fire and the sand forgotten now. "Commiserate," he says. "Better to suffer together than suffer alone. On the surface that sounds stupid, but when you're in it, you want someone to do it with you."

You can't help but disagree. This thing, it happened to you. You have to live with the outcome, sure, but why should everyone else? How does that make the thing better?

"I don't know if that's true," you say.

"For you," he says. "And really, I’d say that’s not even the truth either."

The fire crackles in front of both of you, lighting the wick of indignation in your throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that I've been trying to get to know you for weeks, and I think I was closer when you thought I was a carpenter here to fix the studio upholstery," Frankie says. The camp flickers and reflects in his eyes.

Suddenly, you wish you could implore that you don't like him, put the blame on that wicked crutch of an excuse. Unfortunately there's too much logical evidence against that; that first lunch interaction, the bar, here and now at the beach. Plus all the time you took considering it. Considering him. When did Frankie Morales start to take up so much space in your head?

So all you say is, “I’m sorry,” because there’s not much left but that. Your tears are dry on your face. Frankie’s hand finds yours in the sand, not holding it, but landing nearby. You don’t look at him, and you know his eyes are on you. Red, white, and blue flames light the sky.

The fire dies slowly, your signal to get moving again. If you leave now, you can catch a couple hours of sleep before the non-stop drive back to Atlanta.

You’re about to call a ride when Frankie says, “Let me drive you.”

“It’s fine, really,” you say. You’re split into two halves: the part of you that wants to run away from him, and the part that wants to pull yourself even closer.

“How long ‘til the car gets here?” he asks.

You look at your phone, reading the time estimate. “Twenty minutes.”

That’s all the confirmation that Frankie needs, nodding towards the parking lot as he puts his shoes back on. “Come on. My truck is over this way.”

Getting in is a bit of a struggle, Frankie mindful of the way your body twists as you try to get into the passenger seat by yourself. He ends up getting in on the driver’s side, leaning out of the opposite door to help you up, giving you an odd sense of deja vu.

Up here, you feel so far away from the road and the rest of the world. Sandy concrete turns to solid asphalt, the yellow lines blurring together as the truck drives by. You tell him the address of the motel, watching as he types it into his phone’s GPS at a red light.

Oh god. Oh god. Frankie Morales is taking you home right now. This cannot be happening. The truck is driving at sixty miles an hour. In another twenty seconds you are going to Charlie’s Angels roll out the door, that—

“I’m glad you came,” Frankie says.

“Huh?”

“I was kind of hoping you would. Come down, see the show.” All of his soul-delving seriousness is gone now, Frankie’s demeanor changed as he slides back into the casual banter you two share.

“That’s why you told Mia,” you say.

“Guilty as charged.”

“So that was the plan then? Get me down to Florida, build me a fire, I spill my guts?”

“Not exactly. But friendships formed from fire usually last the longest. Even if that fire is some pit on the beach,” Frankie says.

“I see,” you nod. Friendship. Friendship, friendship, friendship. That’s what this is.

The truck pulls into the dimly lit parking lot of the Western much sooner than you’d like. He walks you to the door, a true gentleman. You can’t figure out how to say goodbye, lingering just past the doorway and the open air.

“Well,” Frankie says. “Happy Fourth of July.”

“Happy Fourth, Francisco,” you return, intoning his full name to put up some sort of barrier. To scold yourself, a reminder of what your relationship to this man really is.

He rolls his eyes with a smile and a huff. “It’s just Frankie.” That should be it, the end of the interaction. Frankie still doesn’t move and neither do you.

This is taking too long, too much time passing for a farewell. You’re being obvious now, watching him watch you half in the dark. You shouldn’t have driven down here. You shouldn’t have gone to the air show. Those things can’t change now, but this can.

But then he takes a deep breath and starts to turn away from you. Your hand flies out and grabs his shoulder, because hell. There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t do. You kiss him, rough and slow, granting Frankie an out if he wants it. When he deepens the kiss, opening his mouth, it’s clear that he doesn’t.

Frankie moves his hands to your ribs, pushing his palms over your body to wrap behind you. You’re pulling him closer by his broad shoulders, noses squishing together a bit. He pulls away for a breath with that flash in his eyes you keep finding. The golden fireworks that sparkle and pop in the distance must be paid actors.

“Do you want to come inside?” you ask, voice strained. Extremely unprofessional, decidedly unplatonic.

“Yes,” Frankie says.

Who fucking cares about those things anyway?

tags: @wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads <3

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #pedrostories #fic: the world tipped on its side

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year

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Friday Treats

Lil Frankie x f!reader thing for Friday after work!

Warnings: Eating cake (no it's not an euphemism!), weight issues mentioned, implied cunnilingus, bad puns.

Written in the app so probably riddled with weird autocorrect stuff. It's too late to proof read: I'm supposed to be asleep already!

"Honey, I'm home!"

You smile to yourself at the cheesy line Frankie calls out when entering the apartment. He loves those old, watered down phrases since he quit the military. Coming home from a normal workday and announcing it is the best thing he knows - partly because he knows how annoying you find it. Especially being called honey.

You don't reply, but raise the cake fork to your lips just as he enters the kitchen. You swung by the bakery on your way home, getting yourself a piece of your favorite cake.

"Honey, you could at least answer - " He stops still when he sees what you're eating.

"What's that?"

"Cake," you answer readily, popping the fork into your mouth. "Mmm...!"

"Are you eating salt caramel chocolate mousse cake?" he asks, voice heavy with equal amounts of reverence and jealousy. You nod and present him with a chocolate smile.

"I sure am."

"Before dinner? How decadent!"

Frankie pulls out the chair on the other side of the table, and sits down. His warm brown eyes scan your face for distress. You've been struggling a little lately, and he wants to make sure you're okay before fucking with you.

"I had a shitty day," you shrug as you cut the fork into the slice of heavenly chocolate cake on the plate in front of you. "I deserved a treat. It's Friday, after all."

"That it is, and that you do," Frankie agrees with a soft smile. "Where's my slice?"

"At the bakery."

He exclaims your name, feigning outrage. "I deserve cake too!"

"You always complain about getting fat when you have cake," you point out. "Takes the fun out of it."

"Just saying that if I have to gain weight, I'd prefer for the pounds to go to my ass," he mutters, leaning across the table and looking pleadingly at you. "Can I have a taste? Just a little one?"

You lean forward as well and give him a deep, searing kiss, letting him taste all of it. When you pull away with a mwah! he licks his lips.

"Yummy."

"I know." You take another bite and then slap Frankie's hand when he tries to reach for your plate. "Hey!"

"Hardass. How was your day? Did something happen?"

"The usual," you mutter darkly as you remember the day's events. "Let's not talk about it, I don't want to start the weekend with that. How was your day?"

"Normal," Frankie shrugs, sitting back in his chair and removing his cap to run his fingers through his hair. "Ordinary, boring Friday."

"Well, at least it wasn't bad - NOOOO!" You swat at his hand when he, without warning and with lightning fast movements, snatches the plate from right in front of you. He's holding it in front of his face, closely watching you.

"Don't you dare," you warningly raise your fork.

"I'm very afraid," he smirks, bringing the plate closer to his mouth.

"Francisco..."

"Ooh, I'm Francisco already?"

"I am warning you...!"

He takes a bite straight off the cake and you wail theatrically.

"You ruined it!"

He returns the plate to you, shaking with laughter. "There's plenty left!"

"Asshole! That was my treat!"

"Little kids know how to share, how come you don't?"

"Because I'm an adult who doesn't need to!" you scoff, but a smile is breaking through your outrage. Getting up, you go to the fridge and take out another plate with a piece of cake on it. You put it down in front of him.

"I got you a piece too, by the way."

"Aww, honey."

You grimace at him but take the edge of it by smiling, and Frankie smiles back. You both finish your cake slices in companionable silence. When his plate is empty, Frankie stifles a burp and puts down his fork.

"That's gonna go straight to my thighs."

"Seriously," you sigh as you get up and take the plates to the sink. "You need to stop that. Your body is hot, with or without chocolate cake on your thighs."

Frankie's suddenly behind you, hands on your hips, chocolatey breath on your cheek.

"And I'm gonna go straight to your thighs..."

He maneuvers you to the kitchen table and helps you hop up on it. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel the warmth spread deep down in your body.

"So eating cake wasn't enough of a treat for your sweet tooth, huh?" you murmur as his lips brush over yours.

"Nope." He pulls up your skirt. "My sweet tooth wants pie as well."

"Two treats on Friday," you grin, "my, oh, my..."

He pushes you down onto your back, and thanks you thoroughly for the cake.

#triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #my fic

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mylittlediarys-stuff · 1 month

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Bite Back Part 6

It had been a week since Amaka got her powers. The one thing she can say about it is actually pretty cool.

She could walk on walls, she didn’t need to use her glasses, she could actually open up jars (Dick tights them way too much), she was able to cut her mile time in half, she was lowkey starting to love the fangs, her reflex came in handy since she was clumsy, she could shoot webs out her hand which allowed her to grab stuff across her bedroom, and she had this six senses thing that told her something bad was going to happen. She called it spider-sense.

This whole thing got her thinking she could make a good hero? A hero Bruce would be proud of? A hero that even Damian would be jealous of?

“What are you thinking about?” A voice said.

She was soon knocked out of her head and back into reality, 1st period AP biology. She had the class with Ram and Francesca ( she picked up that everyone can Francesca Frankie). She became friends with the duo right after the field trip.

She didn’t know if the due considered her friends, she only talked to them during class and waved at them in the hallway. Sometimes she would talk to them after school when Alfred was stuck in traffic.

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Amaka said. “Didn’t sleep enough.”

“Same thing here. Wait did you hear about this-” Frankie said. It was another thing Amak picked up about Ram and Frankie. Their conversation moved fast.

One of them always changed the topic in less than a second which is confusing sometimes. They also liked to talk when the teacher is talking.

“Ram and Francesca!” Mrs. Rosemary yelled. “You two lunch detention, for talking in class. After multiple warnings.”

They also got in trouble with Mrs. Rosemary a lot.

“Come on Kamila, this is the third time you sent us to lunch detention, this month,” Ram said. “Take it easy.”

“Did you just call me Kamila, you don’t call your teacher by her first name.” Mrs. Rosemary took a long breath. “Ram, meet me outside.”

“He always has to make things worse for himself.” Frankie giggled. “Watch him get another referral”

“Amaka, can you stay after class?” Mrs. Rosemary yelled. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“What did you do, Miss Goody two shoes?” Ram asked.

“I don’t know,” she sat there thinking. “Maybe it was the assignment I turned in but it was 30 seconds late.”

“This is why I called you Miss Goody two shoes,” Ram said.

Actually, what did I do? I agree with Ram saying to Miss Goody two shoes because I'm actually an amazing stud-

The bell rang and with that, all the students left including her two friends who ran to the lunch line.

Amaka being asked to stay after class was one of her worst fears. She slowly approached Mrs. Rosemary, hoping for something to happen. Like telling her it was a mistake and she was good to go.

If I’m in trouble, what would Bruce think?

“Amaka, we need to discuss your friends of choice.”

Oh, I’m not in trouble. But discussing my friends seems worse, I guess.

“I don’t want to do this but Ram and Frankie aren’t the best choice for friends.” Rosemary took a deep breath in. “They seem pretty nice kids most of the time but they can be troublemakers. Nothing good will come out of being their friend.”

The girl somehow made it to lunch.

As usual, she had a homemade lunch provided by her favorite butler. A sandwich, orange slices, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and a small apple juice.

Amaka had the same lunch routine, make her way to the door to the library, then she would sit down and eat her sandwich first, then would start doing any homework she had, eat her orange slices, then drink her juice, lastly, she spent the last 10 minutes of lunch going to the bathroom than using her phone.

But it was different today. She spent most of the lunch thinking about what her teacher said about her friends. Not talking to Ram and Frankie would mean she would have no one to talk to. They were literally the only people she talked to even if it was just for one period. Amaka decided it was a good time just to relax and bite and stop thinking about her friends.

She decided to pick up her sandwich, and the moment she took a bite out of her sandwich, her brother appeared.

Damian Wanye, the blood son.

It was four words she could use to describe the boy: smart, arrogant, rude, and violent.

Emphasize the violet part. She was pretty sure the boys got into at least 3 fights on school grounds this year and they haven't even finished the first semester. Amaka didn’t know if she should pretend not to notice him or give him a small wave. He was with his friends.

He is my brother, I should try to be polite.

So the girl summoned all her strength to wave at him.

He saw me and continued walking.

He made eye contact with me and continued walking.

He continued walking.

He is her brother but he didn’t stop but continued walking.

He won’t give me the time of daylight but gives it to his fake friends who only talk to him because of the fact Bruce is his dad.

She didn’t even realize that tears started to come out and made her sandwich wet.

Notes: Low key not the best chapter I wrote but not the best, sorry guys. Amaka had her power for a week so that means 2 more weeks until we get to her hero phase that properly be in a few more chapters.

#batsis x batfam #spidersona #into the spider verse #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batsis

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magicalqueennightmare · 11 months

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Sins & Amends Chapter 31

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: a man by the name of Micro approachs Frank about having more answers as to what happened that day and the coverup that lead to it

You weren't sure what worried you more, the fact that it had been radio silence from Frank yet again or the fact that a murder suicide left five dead in little italy in a fashion that matched some of Frank's kills.

Karen had expressed some concern to you but you'd managed to convince her there was no way Frank was involved. You just couldn't seem to convince yourself.

You had finally fell asleep on your couch around three in the morning. The last shift had been hell then once you got home Ms Johnson came to your door around midnight because her granddaughter who was staying with her had accidently sliced her finger open.

Needlessly to say you were a little pissed when you heard someone knocking at your door and glanced at your phone to see it wasn't even ten. "Someone better be bleeding I swear to Christ" you grumbled staggering to the door. When you opened it you felt your mouth fall open in surprise at the fact that Frank was standing at your door.

You quickly stepped aside to let him. "What are you doing here? You could've called! I would've met you somewhere!" You weren't worried about yourself as much as him taking unnecessary risks. You immediately dropped your line of questioning when you saw the shape he was in. You'd never really seen Frank look rattled. Yeah you'd seen him pissed, in mourning and out for blood but this shook you to your core "Frankie what happened?"

You took a step towards him but when he stepped back you froze "Someone's coming after me Y/N" "What? Who? How?" You couldn't manage to form an intelligent question considering as far as you knew besides yourself Karen and Curtis were the only ones who knew he was actually alive. Well Matt knew he'd saved his ass against the hand but he didn't know you saw Frank as often as you did and you knew even without the fact that he'd have to reveal himself to be daredevil to tell the truth about Frank, Matt still wouldn't.

"Goes by the name of Micro. Says he's got answers about Schoonover and Kandahar" Frank not meeting your eyes when he spoke was never a good thing. "And what you think I said something?" You were more than hurt at even the suggestion that he may have thought that. He immediately shook his head "No sweetheart. I know better than that. Red ain't let anything slip has he?" You shook your head "No. Not only would that tell his own secret but he wouldn't do that"

"I had to ask" he started to walk past you to leave but you grabbed his arm before he could make it to the door "Hell no. You come here, wake me up, tell me someone's after you then try to leave? No. Frank you're not in this alone. Fucking tell me what happened in Kandahar. What were you into? I need to know so I can help you"

He shook his head before finally looking at you "Our group. Y/N we were tasked to some CIA bullshit. What we did...what I did. It wasn't war not like I know it. We were doing interrogation and assassination plain and simple"

You dropped your hand while your mind worked to process what he was telling you "You think Micro knows more of what happened? You think someone's still alive that was involved in the cover up?" He nodded again then dropped his gaze once more "I got a disk to the house. It's a video of one of the interrogations" you tried to work your voice twice before you managed to get out the words "What happened in the video Frank?"

"I killed the man we were interrogating. He was a cop over there" your hand flew to your mouth when you connected the dots he'd laid out "Frank don't do this to yourself. No matter what this Micro does or doesn't know you are not the reason Maria and the kids are gone"

"What if I am?" He nearly whispered. "You're not god dammit" you could be just as stubborn as him. "I already went to see Curt. I'm going to go talk to Karen. See if she can find a lead on this guy..Y/N watch your back. If anyone even suspects I'm still alive.." You knew what he was trying to say. "I'll be careful but you've got to promise me if you need my help you'll accept it" he was still for a moment then nodded "I promise"

He pulled his hat and hoodie back on then before he walked out the door he glanced back at you "I'll call you or get Curt to when I have some idea of where this is headed" "Ok" you replied and watched him walk out.

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

You figured after Frank left any more sleep was by far out the question so you were dressed for the day and locking your door when your phone rang and you saw it was Karen.

"I'm outside" was her greeting so you replied "and I'm headed down"

When you walked into the lobby of your building Karen was standing there with two coffee cups and held one out to you "Wanna take a walk?" She asked glancing around at the few people. You nodded and led the way out the door.

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

"I agree with you Karen. It's unnerving as hell to see Frank so rattled. This Micro guy is supposed to have answers about Kandahar and everything that came after" the two of you were walking next to the river and the slight chill was enough to be more of a comfort than a hindrance.

"So there's more to the cover up?" She suggested and you turned to look at her "All three of us always thought it went deeper. That's why you tried to stop him from killing Schoonover. I'm just afraid what if this time it kills him?"

She reached out and pulled you into her side "I'm worried about him too. Maybe we can get answers on this Micro guy and maybe he's on Frank's side but we both know he isn't going to stop until he knows for certain everyone who had a hand is brought down" "I just want him to have an after. He deserves it" you said and she nodded "Yeah he does...another unrelated question. How did he know I like white roses? He left them so when I find something I can put them in the windowsill as a way to let him know" That made a surprised grin slip onto your face "Maybe I told him?"

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

After you and Karen went your separate ways with plans for you to be at the bulletin first thing to help her research Matt called to see if you wanted to grab some dinner with him and Foggy. Marci was out of town visiting her family.

You were trying to keep your attention on the conversation at hand but that was easier said than done. You kept circling back around to what Frank had finally told you about Kandahar. Matt finally leaned over and whispered "Are you ok?" You forced a smile and laid your head over on his shoulder "Guess I'm just tired"

Foggy looked between the two of you then laughed "Matt man, get Y/N home before she falls asleep on the table!" "Franklin! I don't look that bad do I?" You asked putting just enough of a quiver in your voice his eyes widened "No! I just meant you'd probably rather be alone or alone with Matt than here" "Oh so I'm not a good friend to you then?" You pushed and just before he started actually panicking Matt cracked up laughing "She's messing with you Foggy"

"It's so easy! Your mama raised you right. You can't stand thinking me or Karen is upset with you!" You teased and he shook his head but laughed "Well I'll take the compliment"

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

Once Foggy was in a cab Matt grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze "You want to stay at my place tonight? Or I can walk you home?"

"I'd love to stay at your place but I've got to meet Karen first thing..that offer stand for tomorrow night?" You asked stepping close enough to let your lips barely brush against his cheek. "That offer stands for tomorrow night" he replied with a smile.

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

The next morning you had off so you were sitting in Karen's office knee deep in a box of files. "There's nothing here useful" you grumbled kicking the box then flashing an apologetic smile to the intern who she'd just called in to take them back down to storage.

"Y/N I'm getting your id photo taken next week" Ellison said the moment he walked in to see you sitting on the corner of Karen's desk. "Nice to see you too" you replied before Karen asked him about any article that hit on a computer hacker who went by the moniker micro. He glanced back at you so you shot him a smile "There was a story. Someone bought it to me. Supposedly he had a lead on an NSA analyst who was leaking secrets, went by the name Micro"

"And?" You asked hopping off the desk to shut the door. He looked from you to Karen and shrugged "and I decided not to run it" "Why?" You and Karen asked in unison. He scoffed "because I'm an editor. It's what I do, part of the job description actually"

Karen shook her head "No Ellison, don't get sarcastic with me. I know the play. Why" he sighed "Didn't have any evidence. I mean his only source was this guy from Homeland who refused to go on record" he looked from you where you were standing behind him to Karen who was standing across the room before adding "and then special agent in charge of New York Carson Wolf stopped by personally and asked I not pursue it"

"So then the story is true?" Karen stated more than asked. "According to him if we ran the story it would have interfered with his investigation. He was afraid we'd screw up chances of catching everyone involved" "and you agreed to that?" You demanded and once again he simply shrugged "I decided to wait for the bigger story and make a friend of Carson Wolf" "Oh my god Ellison!" Karen exclaimed sitting down and you mirrored her actions sitting on her desk yet again.

Ellison looked from her to you before saying "Look, I'm sure I still have the article in my office. So if I give it to you, will both of you stop looking at me like that?" Karen cut her eyes at you so you nodded "We agree" she told him before standing to follow him to his office.

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

You read over the article sitting at Karen's kitchen counter. According to official sources David Lieberman a.k.a. "Micro" had been shot and killed by Homeland.

"What does this guy have on Frank Y/N?" She asked and you bit your lip as you pushed the article back across her to. "Well for one if Carson Wolf is dirty which lets face it he more than likely is this cover-up is bigger than you or I ever imagined"

"and for two?" She asked and you knew she meant why did Frank seem so concerned about what Micro knew on him. "Some things happened in Kandahar. Frank doesn't want anyone else getting hurt because of that. He loves me like a sister. And he cares a lot about you Karen. I.. Its not in my place to tell you but just know he's still just looking for answers and trying to protect those of us he has left"

She nodded and about that time her phone rang. She showed you the blocked number and you knew it was Frank.

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

That night you ended up having one of the roughest nights of sleep you'd had since right after Maria and the kids were killed. You knew it was because you were worried about Frank but you very well couldn't tell Matt that.

There was blood everywhere. You could feel it soaking up through the carpet under your feet. You just couldn't see who was hurt. You walked around a corner and realized you were in Frank and Maria's living room and there in the middle of the floor was Maria, Lisa and Frank Jr in puddles of blood. "Ria!" You screamed running to her side but before you could reach her the dream shifted you were now kneeling in the middle of the bulletin with Karen's head in your lap as she took her last labored breath. "This can't be happening..not again"

One by one you ended up dreaming of everyone you cared about dying in front of your eyes, from Karen to Alice all the way to Matt and Billy. They all died in front of you and you were helpless to stop it. You ended up waking Matt up around two from the sounds you were making in your sleep. "Y/N..wake up" he gently shook you.

You jarred awake and were startled for a moment until you remembered you were in his bed, you were safe. You tried to tell him about the nightmares but started sobbing the moment you opened your mouth so he just pulled you into his chest and held you. "Thank you Matt" you finally managed so he kissed the top of your head "You're welcome Y/N. You're safe here. It's ok"

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

You knew what the dreams were telling you. Your subconscious was fucking you over because you were helpless to save Maria and the kids and now yet again you felt helpless to assist Frank so when he enlisted Curtis into a game of Cat and Mouse with Micro you wouldn't take no for an answer.

That's how you ended up in Mount Zion cemetery while Curtis delivered Frank's "message" you'd walked up behind Micro who had a gun pointed at Curtis. David, Micro whatever he wanted to be called wasn't a very physically imposing man.

He was tall but lanky with a mop of curly brown hair. Poor guy looked like he'd been through the wringer.Your job was to stay in the shadows unless he actually tried to shoot Curt than you'd do what you had to. The whole show was simply to buy Frank enough time to hitch a ride in Micro's trunk and have the element of surprise to find out what he knew considering Carson Wolf was now dead and had said in no uncertain terms that the slaughter of Maria and the kids were very much targeted and went deep.

When Curtis walked away you knew that was your cue so you double backed to his car. When you walked up he opened the passenger side door "How do you think this will play out?" You climbed in then said "Hopefully they play nice but just in case I put a burner phone in the trunk that we can trace in a couple days if we haven't heard nothing"

Curtis started the car and as he pulled away said "We're medics how the hell did we get roped into having a rendezvous at a cemetery with a fricking spook?" You shook your head with a laugh "I have no clue Curt"

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

#au billy russo #billy russo x y/n #billy russo au #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #sins and amends masterlist

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kitty-is-writing · 11 months

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Happy Pride Month all!

This year I finally got around to finishing some of my LGBTQ+ themed shorts, based in the same world as my novels. All of these are canon to the Drenius books, bits of character background and slice-of-life stuff that I couldn't fit into the main storylines.

The first one focuses on Alex and Dan, two loving husbands who run a tavern in a remote village. Hope you enjoy reading about these two.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

It was always so quiet in the mornings, Alex thought. The only sounds were the faint chink of dishes in the kitchen, and a distant mumble of people outside. Of course, the lack of paying guests at the moment contributed to the near silence. When they had people staying in the upstairs rooms, there was usually some thumping and conversation as they got up, packed if they were leaving that day, and headed down for breakfast. He enjoyed having guests, for the company and the stories they shared more than any income, but it was also nice to have quiet mornings sometimes. It gave him a chance to get all the tables polished in peace, and spend some time with Dan.

“Lex, honey, did you want your eggs fried or scrambled today?” Dan called through from the kitchen.

“Scrambled please,” he replied. Dan made the best scrambled eggs, with a sprinkle of grated cheese and some spices mixed in. They’d talked about opening for breakfast a few times before, serving some simple meals and hot drinks early in the day, but always decided against it. The first couple of hours of the day were their own, and neither of them was willing to share that time with anyone else.

He had just finished the second last table when Dan pushed the rickety breakfast trolley through, loaded with steaming plates, crumbling pastries, chilled juices and the morning’s papers. “Here we are. A good breakfast for a good day,” said Dan, setting things on the last unpolished table.

Alex smiled and put the cleaning things aside. This was their little ritual, Alex cleaned while Dan cooked, and once it was ready they sat together to enjoy each other’s company in peace before opening to the rest of the village. “It looks delicious. Did you try something different with the bread? It looks a bit more golden around the crust than your usual recipe.”

“It’s a new glaze, just a thin coating of spiced honey brushed over the top before baking. I thought it might make nice toast,” Dan replied as he cut off a few slices. “Let me know what you think, I might add it to the menu.”

“Mm. It’s good, reminds me of that mead they make over in the next village,” Alex said. “Sweet enough for flavour without being over sweet, and just right on the spice. Clove and cinnamon?”

“With a tiny hint of ginger for warmth. I’m thinking it might work nicely on some cakes for the winter, too,” said Dan, opening one of the papers then immediately closing it. “Nope. No bad news for me today, thanks.”

Alex looked over. “What is it?” They had newspapers delivered from both Aglendale and Oakshire, via a small courier service that worked along the border.

“Looks like King Francis is being a bastard again,” Dan replied. “Have a read if you like, I’m not going to make myself upset with the details.”

One of the Aglendale papers, the Apex Gazette, was closest to Alex. “Foolish Frankie Forfeits Friendships? Nice alliteration there,” he said, pulling it over to scan the article. “Apparently he’s insulted one of Nakata’s Imperial Princes. ‘Lard-bellied snot goblin’, they’ve quoted here, that’s an interesting phrase.”

Dan snorted into his tea. “Which Prince? I know a few of them are slightly portly, but I wouldn’t say lard-bellied. Or snot goblin, whatever one of those is supposed to be.”

“The one who was engaged to Princess Alicia, according to this. Nice looking guy, at least in this picture.” Alex turned the image towards Dan.

“Not bad. Little skinny for me personally, but I can see the appeal. Oakshire’s papers are a bit less flattering of him, though.” Dan nodded towards the paper he had first picked up, its headline screaming ‘Princess Engaged to Deviant Foreigner’. “Not sure if that’s a smear campaign of if he’s really bi or something, but it looks like they’re pushing the whole pervert angle again.”

Alex dropped the Gazette on top of it, covering the headline. “Nice. I’m so glad we got out of there when we did.”

“Same here. I do miss the bustle of Falridge, though. Maybe we could take a break sometime, close up for a week or so and go visit some of the elves’ cities?”

“That’s not a bad idea. It’s usually quiet in late spring, maybe then? Sapphire Falls is supposed to have some amazing views, or there’s Agate Cove on the south coast, if you’d rather go for a seaside trip.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Either is good. Maybe both, if you feel like a bit of a road trip. We could hire a car, spend some time sightseeing along the way as well. Or we could go mad and take a whole month, travel the length of the country. I hear there are some great hiking trails in Points’ End,” he said.

“Now there’s a plan I can get behind. We could get someone to take care of the inn if we’re going for that long, too,” Alex said. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone could step in temporarily. Or just close the place and hire someone to keep the rats away. It’s not like we do a roaring trade at the best of times, little village like this. I’m sure the locals can feed themselves for a month.”

They finished breakfast, and Dan disappeared back into the kitchen to start on the day’s prep work. Alex cleared away the plates and polished the last table, hanging the assorted papers on the rack beside the bar. Most of the Oakshire papers tucked towards the back, folded so that the headlines screeching about ‘deviants’ were not immediately visible. Neither of them needed to be looking at those words all day, having heard them more than enough throughout their lives. Hopefully tomorrow the press would have found something else to be outraged about.

#short story #my work #lgbtq+#gay pride #lgbtqia #pride #pride month #queer #original writing #Kitty's short stories

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lenny-rambles · 4 days

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About "SpyxFamily: Short Mission 13"

Manga: "SpyxFamily"

Update: Short Mission 13

Author: Tatsuya Endo

Relevants tags ig: the dog has ptsd, again

Honestly, I was mad when I initially saw it was a Short Mission. It's gonna be a month now since the last regular chapter came out, the plot was moving, my heart skipped at beat at the last double spread, the story was thriving, I could sense a lore drop any minute now. Then we got two short missions. TWO!!! But the newest short mission took me by surprise and now I'm sad about the damn cartoon dog.

Spoilers for the SpyxFamily manga and anime, more as in, characters that appear and not exactly plot stuff, BEWARE!

IT'S A GODDAMN SHORT MISSION, WHY DID YOU SHOW AGAIN THE SAD DOG'S BACKSTORY?!!! ISTG. You know what I was expecting? I was expecting a "funny haha, future seeing dog has a boring day home alone" maybe break some stuff by accident, maybe he goes to the neighbors' for attention, cute, sweet, nothing heavy slice of life chapter. BUT NO, I WAS FOOLED.

Like, most of the Short Missions are just, not that relevant. Like, it is more of a day-to-day life than the manga normally is. As in, last short mission (the chapter before this one) was about Anya sending Lloyd, and WISE, to an early grave with a High-Fashion dress for prom. It was funny, sweet, Anya wanted to help, then Damian messed up again and she wanted revenge, you know, the usual.

Why? Who gave Tatsuya Endo the idea to give Bond MORE flashbacks?!!! Poor dog's been through a lot, the Forgers becoming his safe place is just beautiful. THE WAY HE AND ANYA RESONATE, BECAUSE THEY ARE BOTH SECRET EXPERIMENTATION SURVIVORS!!!!!! Fucking dog making me sad because a big ass Penguin plushy has stiches. Stupid dog making me emotional over fish, FUCKING FISH. I HATE FISH!!!!

SpyxFamily makes me happy and sad. I think it's a great story to show how connections, friends, family, define a person more than what we'd like to imagine. No person is an island, so seeing characters like Nightfall or Franky, doing missions or getting bits of their backstory, makes it feel more real. Having a character like Anya, being capable of reading mind but not truly understanding most of it makes you think about how children navigate the world.

Oh gosh, I could talk about how SpyxFamily shares an anti-war message through its main characters, all of them victims of the war, one way or another. But it won't, 'cause this was supposed to be about the dog having what I'd call panic attacks because he accidentally broke a glass. BUT WE GET TO THE PENGUIN. In case you haven't read the manga (why are you reading this?) or simply forgot, Bond broke Mr Penguin!

It was an act of jealousy, Anya started playing with the plushie more, and he got lonely. So he destroyed it. He might be an oracle dog, but he is still a dog, I don't blame him. And he felt Bad. He made Anya cry. And he felt terrible because he just wanted Anya back and now Anya's crying and he can't undo it (dogs can't sew). In the end they made it better. I don't remember if it was Lloyd, Yoru or the neighbors, it was probably Yoru though, who fixed it. And the Penguin got cool looking stiches and "he and Bond made Peace".

That was nice, UNTIL THIS GODDAMN CHAPTER. I used to wonder if Bond also felt survivor guilt from being the only dog that managed to escape. TURNS OUT HE DOES, THE DOG HAS SURVIVOR'S GUILT FFS!!!! Poor Bond, realized that he inflicted damage to something like him (unable to defend itself, new/young, a play pretend animal and an animal no longer treated as such) and he tried to make it better. I can't change what I did but I want you to feel better, I'm sorry.

I'm overanalyzing here, it's probably Not That Deep. It's a funny haha manga about a family of dangerous people who end up loving each other by accident. But sometimes it's about Lloyd burying himself in a nameless grave by the time he was 18. It's about Yoru sacrificing her innocence for her brother only to do the same for her. It's about Anya needing validation from everyone because if the people in the lab didn't like her they'd get rid of her. It's about Bond feeling lonely and distressed because a vision he got is especially terrible and he is just a Dog.

I read the interview where Tatsuya Endo said he didn't like the characters that much. Maybe not Gege Akutami (you're going dow Gege) levels of hate, but a blunt indifference. And sometimes I find that hard to believe. Maybe he didn't want Anya to be cutesy-dumb-pink-haired little girl, or Lloyd a super-intelligent-spy-ikemen at first, or even now. But I don't think he doesn't like his story, or characters; we wouldn't have the short missions in the first place if that were the case.

All this to say, cartoon dog made me sad, and then happy, because there are better things coming for everyone in the end. Thank you for reading this far! I'd recommend SpyxFamily if you are up to something a tad dramatic, with a happy ending and endearingly funny. (Or if you have issues with your parents and want a bit of escapism, that's also fair)

#rambles #txt #spy x family #spy x family bond

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kriimhild · 2 years

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Daily Daycare - A story from the Pizzaplex (a small slice from a very late chapter)

I am still learning how to write in English, please forgive my bad spelling.

Warnings: Disturbing description! Bad words!

The Pizzaplex was built on the ruins of the original restaurant, although very few people know this... the cult started to rebuild it from the ashes after a series of failures by previous companies. However, when the VR game was being designed, the developer had no idea that it had been 'taken over' by the then cult leadership of Fazbear. To this day, Vanessa resented the scam and suspected something was amiss... she wouldn't have been the first person the Glitch found. Hiding behind Vanny's mask, Afton was experimenting with a new vision, and it was an organization. He couldn't commit the murders alone, half in digital hell. But the scent of freedom was closer than he thought. This basement, this place, the musty, familiar smells of old ruins... he was home. And home it would return.

Dave wasn't a full member yet, but Nigel knew a thing or two about blackmail. He couldn't quit, he couldn't die. Those who tumble into the afterlife in the shadow of William Afton are rumored to be tormented in the afterlife by murdered souls. There were supernatural forces at work in this place with whom it was not worth holding a grudge.

Disturbing parts

Almost nobody. There were beings out there who could hear them and see them. But they were also considered prisoners in another sense.

The man followed Nigel, a little hunched over. Dave's job was to retrieve the Remnants, the chemical part of it. Dave was a piece of shit, but without him there would have been no way to preserve the children's bodies in containers, reusing their essences over and over again. Many people made sure the souls couldn't leave the tanks. Since their murder they have been floundering in their tanks like a bird in a tiny cage.

Dave made eye contact with one of the bodies, the lifeless little face looked blankly over him. Sometimes they found their way back to their bodies, moved them to break free, but this body no longer belonged to them. They were uncomfortable... Confinement does not bring peace to a restless soul.

There was a row of tanks on the ground below, and many more high above. They could rotate the fresher bodies and souls, while the older ones gathered enough anger or grief to generate new energy.

Dave disagreed. It was all fucked up shit. Sometimes he spoke to the souls, but they didn't respond. No one could hear them...

"All right, Daveyboy, let's rotate them, let the current ones rest, and say... bring those forward." He gestures.

Dave walked over to the joystick and moved it in the desired direction.

"Nigel... l-listen... why are you doing this? What's your... motivation?"

"What? What's my motivation?” he glared at the other. “We're working towards a better world. You may not see it now, but seriously, farmers fertilize the land and they don't let the smell of shit hold them back because they know it's going to make a good crop, you know?"

Dave stared at him for a while, then pointed up.

"But child murder?! Nigel they are bloody kids man! The ones WE made disappear! They're in every bloody newspaper and we're suspected!"

Nigel just shrugged.

"At least none of them have their own cars, eh? And their suspicions are not enough, have you ever seen a single policeman here? Even in the Plex they only come when we call them. Because they know what's good for them, and so do you. They, me and you are paid handsomely, but unlike them, our place is guaranteed in the brave new world that is coming.”

"The brave new world we enter as child killers?" Dave got to his feet and as he started pacing, he held his head. "Why the fuck do you want Frankie involved? She's not good for these purposes, you said so yourself! Well impress that on the rabbit! At least not her!”

"Dave, Dave, Dave... it's like you don't understand our purpose. We want there to be life on the planet for millennia to come, but with overpopulation like this it will never happen. Sure, I understand that parents can't make the hard but right decision... but we can help. Even if they don't know it. The only difference between children and adults is that they haven't created so much waste." At the mention of Frankie, Nigel grins broadly.

"And Frankie is just the perfect person for the job. Other than us, of course, I certainly don't think she has the stomach for this kind of groundwork... but she’s very, very good with animatronics. She sees them as much more than just machines... and we both know he's right, don't we?"

“W-what do you mean? What are they if not just machines?” Dave trembles.

Nigel spread his arms.

"We don't know exactly! Hahaha! Something completely new and wonderful! A new life form that understands us, is partly of us, but more than us! And unlike us, it doesn't want to eat up the whole planet!”

The cult, like most cults on the planet, can seduce a wide variety of people, some for this, some for that. In Nigel's case, the lust for power and a high level of misanthropy was their hook. Through Vanny, Afton had the perfect answer to every question. They may not have been telling the truth, but Nigel believed them completely...

“And if there are only animatronics on this planet, how many new nuclear power plants do you think will have to be built? Nigel, that's not the solution to our survival... animatronics are just... they're causing problems in the ecosystem in other ways.” Dave rebuts. “What if one of them finds out? What if they ask you questions?”

“Daaave.” Nigel laughed. “You're missing the bigger picture. Say, for example, how long can Sun and Moon last without oxygen?”

“And how long can you last without oxygen if they find out?”

“You have questions and doubts, which I understand, of course, but you get bogged down in the trivial little things. The ones we have here are not yet complete. I can still stop any of them if I want to. The ones I can't, well... then they can do much more than me, right?”

Dave squeezed Nigel’s arm where Moon had earlier hurt it.

“And what do you think this is a sign of?”

Nigel grunted at this, but endured the pain. He began to feel that it was time to ask Vanny if Dave could have an accident at work. He talks more than he works, and increasingly doubts that he can really be compensated. But of course, until he gets permission, he's not giving up, just in case...

“I had to test how far they could go. This - he pats on his wound - is a GOOD sign of Moon, even if you don't understand it. It shows they are getting closer to being ready.”

Dave's face then smoothes out completely, but pales in shades.

"You're... specifically programming them to kill people. To help Him clean up the planet?”

Nigel waved his hand.

“Please. Killing people isn't the main purpose, it's just a tool. The main purpose is their freedom, and yes, cleaning up the planet. You're worried about the ecosystem, but you know that Monty, for example, can take better care of the plants than the whole crew here.”

"Then why do you want to punish them for it?” he pointed to Nigel’s arm.

"I don't understand why there's all this dancing around."

"Ah, so that's what you're stuck on? Understandable, when I think about it. Right... If they were just machines, I'd tamper with their programming to prevent a repeat of the incident. But they're already much more than that, as Moon's aggressive outburst proved. By educating them, I'm educating them to the real consequences. On the one hand... and don't tell anyone this... on the one hand, it will give me as much satisfaction as putting a man in his place. On the other hand, objectively? If they learn to fear the consequences, they'll be smarter and more clever next time."

Not that it matters if Dave want to tell anyone. The only one who would believe him is Vanny, who is aware of it... anyone else would just send the guy to the rubber room.

And Dave knew that no one would believe him... That's why he can't run away...

“Let's just... keep working.”

#FNAF #fnaf fanfiction #FNAFDailyDaycare #fnafsundrop #fnafmoondrop

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graftisms · 1 year

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CALLIE & FRANKIE — DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

location : late afternoon / pool

featuring : @absolutesort

FRANKIE

when she'd told callie she'd be there in a sec she'd severely underestimated the amount of time it took to make a frozen cocktail. on the most part, cocktails aren't really frankie's thing — they're too sugary and take fucking twelve years to make, and she can take three shots in half the time and get just as wasted if that's the end goal — but frozen cocktails are callie's favourite (she'd even scouted out dylan to double check), so she's making the effort. at least callie's managed to get her laps in while frankie faffs about with the blender. when she finally makes her way over, almost fifteen painstaking minutes later, it's with a spring in her step and a poco grande glass in each hand. "in this bar in naples they have an alcoholic slushie machine that does this thing called a miami vice?" frankie explains, as if a miami vice is something exclusive to florida dive bars. she sets them down on the pool side, an umbrella and a slice of pineapple perched precariously on rim of each. "it's like... half frozen pina colada, half frozen strawberry daquiri, total deliciousness." her eyes shoot towards callie with a wink. "anyway, i tried to make us some but we don't have the slushie machine, so i can't make it swirl layer by layer like a cyclone popsicle? i just had to mix it in a blender, and by the time i got round to the daquiri the pina colada had started to melt back into normal liquid blah, blah, blah, so the swirls are totally off, but here." frankie squats down, taking a sip of her drink and then makes her way towards the deep end of the pool, where diving is just about permitted. toes on the edge, she stretches her body out, circles her arms and springs forward in a graceful arch, swan-diving into the pool.

CALLIE

she's floating in a T-shape on her back when frankie comes over with the drinks finally. ears in the water, callie can't hear her, but she sits up just in time, as if she just knew. she has absolutely no idea what that drink she hands her is supposed to be, but callie takes it with a smile anyway, leaning against the edge of the pool. she can't tell if she should be disgusted or intrigued at her resourcefulness, but what she mostly feels (shockingly) is charmed. "i'm sure it's great," she tells her, taking a sip for good measure. there's a little too many flavors in it to focus on how it tastes, but it's definitely not bad. really, she mostly tastes rum, which is never a bad thing. back against the wall of the pool, she sips on her drink while she watches frankie give a perfect dive into the pool, eyebrows raising for a beat. she's all skin and muscle, and maybe right now she's thinking about her conversation with naomi about not yet seeing her naked... shaking her head, she smiles once frankie comes up for water. "this is good," she jingles the cup in her hand, "i owe you one." callie looks like she's about to say something else for a moment, the reminder of their closed conversation from earlier in her head about kissing other people—but with zero idea how to bring it up, she chickens out. "next time i'll teach you how to make a mudslide. a lot easier, i promise," she says instead.

FRANKIE

when she surfaces, it's with a spray of water, throwing her head back with a whip of her hair like a jet2holidays commercial. her eyes lock on callie across the pool and she closes the distance between them with a few short strides of her front crawl. "hey," she says, when she finally reaches her, leaving a degree of space between them in a futile attempt at not touching her. "you don't owe me anything after this morning." warmth glints from her smile. she pushes onto the edge to take a hearty glug from her cocktail, then settles back into the water. "sure thing, you can be my senpai." she pauses. "or is it like, cuturally insensitive to say that now? you can be my jedi, and i'll be your padawan." she's never actually seen star wars the whole way through, but with four brothers you pick things up. her eyes scan around the villa, checking to see that the other islanders are occupied in their various grafting, moping, and exercising activities, before she inches closer, catching callie's eyes with a conspiratorial look. "so... i just saw something weird."

CALLIE

"you look like a shampoo commercial," she laughs, flicking some water over at her with her two fingers. callie makes sure to shield her drink as frankie nears, in case she gets any big ideas on splashing. she waited long enough for this cocktail to not be ruined by pool water. "i think we're one for one after this morning." catching the girl's eye makes callie grin. it's hard to be coy about it when it's just the two of them, and it's not replaying in her head over and over. "y'know, i've never actually seen star wars," she admits, leaning her back against the wall of the pool, propping her arms up onto it. "you're not one of those star wars nerds that's going to dump me for that, are you?" frankie definitely seems nerdy enough to be into it. the mention of this morning feels like an opening to bring it up, but instead the blonde inches closer, with a change of subject interesting enough to make callie's eyebrows raise. "weird, like two geckos humping each other again, or something else?" she's not going to pretend like frankie doesn't have a unique definition of the term weird.

FRANKIE

"yeah? well you look like a fuckin' sports illustrated cover shoot, so..." frankie pauses, warmth flowing into her smile as she looks at callie, sees the brightness pouring out from her like an aura. "you're glowing," she notes, to explain the way her eyes are lingering, mushy and soft when she stares at her. "someone must've scored last night." whether callie means it to be or not, the way she leans against the side is unbelievably hot. it's like she's draping herself out, purely for frankie's eyes to follow over her skin, dribbling with the pool water. "hey! okay, woah. firstly, i've not even seen star wars, i just have brothers. secondly, a nerd? me? how dare you. i was fuckin' cool, at school, okay? i threw ragers all the time. everybody wanted an invite to a frankie castro party." though a frankie castro party would mostly involve breaking into some abandonned warehouse just off the interstate with a can of UV spray paint and a bunch of speakers in the back of her brother's van, somebody usually cutting themself on a rusty nail and tragically getting tetanus. she breaks the no-touch record she'd been keeping in her head, leaning in to bop the tip of callie's nose with her finger. "nah, i'm not gonna dump you." she presses up onto the side again, hips flush to the wall when she takes a glug of her cocktail, shaking her ass as it briefly rises above the water, and then sinking back down to callie's side. "yeah, if the geckos were like, two islanders who should one hundred percent not be humping." eyes narrowed, she turns to look at callie. "can you keep a secret? i mean, like, tell no one not even dylan or naomi, especially not naomi type secret?"

CALLIE

she's never really been the type to blush like a schoolgirl, not even the type that cares much about compliments. but frankie tells her she's glowing and how can callie not flush a little? she can feel it radiating off of her, though she'd say it's less about her own aura and more about the energy between them too, so strong it's actually tangible. "and this morning," she gives her a look, smile smug, before she takes another sip of her drink. the hand not holding the drink raises in place, as if there's a gun held to her. "okay, okay! so defensive about nerd movies, wow. this coming from the girl with cartoons on her knickers." nose wrinkling at the boop, callie doesn't hold back when frankie's ass rises above the water, giving it a playful smack. "good," she says, flashing her a grin. "star wars movie night when we get out of here?" never in her twenty-four years of life has she had any interest in watching those space movies, but she'll turn crumbs into potential plans between them on the outside, a subtle reminder that frankie is where her head's at—without being too suffocating about it, she hopes. "oh?" callie is already leaning in, too tempted at the gossip. having to promise to keep something from her brother makes her hesitate for a second, especially when naomi's name is mentioned, hard not to think of the worst case scenario. but she nods anyway, brown eyes intense. "what happened?"

FRANKIE

heat rises in the apples of callie's cheeks, round and bright like a red delicious plucked from the top of a tree, back when she'd climb her way up the orchard in search of leo's favourite fruit, keep it safe in the front pocket of her dungarees, and shine it against the denim all the way home. how can she help but care for her ? her body slides closer in the pool, taking her face in her hands, gaze soft when it darts between callie's eyes, attempting to pick a favourite. "you're totally blushing," she whispers, narrowing her eyes, a slow shake of her head. "i see you." they dip between meaningful exchanges of future plans, wayward ideas of how each of them might slot into the others world, and casual sexuality like it's a sport they've both trained in, the playful jabs, the slap against her ass, the spirited desperation with which she'd asked if she'd save her lips just for callie. she wouldn't have it any other way, except for the fact that maybe she'd have it slower, give her feelings time to catch up with the surging want in her body, figure out if it's the honeymoon phase that's got her feeling this way, or just callie. her ass is still stinging from the slap when she leans in to meet her mouth, tender despite her less than pious thoughts. "i would love a star wars movie night with you." but considering their track record, they probably wouldn't make it past the opening credits without getting distracted by each others skin. "i thought you liked my cartoon panties." frankie huffs, arm coiling around callie's shoulders, knees finally knocking beneath the water. the touch barrier's been broken and now her affection flows freely, a hole cut into the hoover dam. "guess you won't be taking them off tonight then..."

hands slide up from her cheeks to tuck callie's hair behind her ears, finger twisting itself into a curl. she knows that if she tells her, the knowledge is no longer hers alone. she's got no guarantee callie won't tell someone, that this highly flammable piece of information won't make it away around the villa, affecting not only jenny, but the reputation of max in his absence. "um... don't tell anyone, but i walked in on jenny and max. not just humping, either, like, fully going at it." her eyes are wide, teeth sinking into her lips, something inherently awkward about disclosing it. "it was in the showers. like, maybe an hour ago. but i'm only telling you because i trust you. i'm not planning on spreading it."

CALLIE

her eyes roll at frankie pointing it out, as if she can't feel the heat in her own cheeks. some people might think it's cute, but callie thinks it's her being ridiculous. what is she, some blushing bride? if only her body shared the same sentiment. "i'm aware," she drawls, smiling up at frankie anyway, already leaning in when the blonde kisses her. as if she hadn't been waiting for that kiss since they both got in the pool, but callie's nothing if not patient. that's what she tells herself, at least. clumsily callie puts down her drink on the wall behind her so she can rest her hand on the side of frankie's neck, her hand cold from the condensation on the glass. she's lost track of how many plans they've made together during the past few days, events that will probably never come to fruition. is she had brought a journal to the villa like her friend had told her to do, she would be keeping a careful list of everything, not wanting to miss out. instead only memory serves as their proof, and as the days stretch on callie finds it hard to remember what she even ate for lunch. "you know i like them very much," she grins, leaning up to press a single kiss to her jawline. "sounds like more of a punishment for you then for me, but okay." as if they're really not coming off tonight.

callie doesn't know what she's expecting from the gossip, but it isn't that. her hand pulls away from frankie to cover her mouth, barely holding back her surprise. "no shit." god... god. the full realization that frankie had walked in on them in the shower makes her pull her hand away, so she can see her grimace. "oh, gross. i'm never going to feel clean in that thing again." and to think, that had once been a place where her and frankie sought refuge for alone time. at least their clothes were on at the time. "i don't tell anyone, i promise." jenny and max are two people that she has virtually no relationship with, and frankly, it's none of her business. "did they see you?"

FRANKIE

"yeah? you're aware?" frankie teases, dipping back to catch callie's bottom lip with her mouth, her kiss sliding to the edge of her mouth, then her cheek. "are you aware that you also do it when you're close?" she's still giddy with the post-high glow. beneath the water, her thumb trails over callie's abdomen, one last kiss planted against her lips before she pulls back slightly, hands returning to the safety of callie's shoulders with grand notions of being good. her eyes flutter shut like a cat's slow-blink at the press of a kiss against her jaw. "sure, but it's a punishment for both of us. you should have seen your face when you were touching me..." she sighs, dreamily, her lips pulling up into a stupid smile. "you love to get me off. you looked so happy." says frankie, who looks giddy as a nun on easter sunday.

callie's expression tickles something in her, so much so that she snorts, covering her own mouth, though it's hardly funny. the 'gossip' they're dealing with is potentially devastating. it's explosive enough that in the wrong hands, it could completely unravel a couple who, prior to jenny's slip up, were as deserving of the win as any of them. "yeah, they've totally tainted it. we can literally never go for round two there. gutted." her finger slides beneath callie's chin and lifts it up, admiring the way the sunlight catches on her jaw. "jenny screamed 'fuck' at me and i think max, in classic max fashion, invited me to join them. i can't really remember though, i basically blocked it out as soon as i left." one hand leaves callie's shoulders, reaching to grab her cocktail from the pool side. she takes a large gulp and sucks an ice cube into her mouth, hoping it'll help her make a rational decision on what to do with this information. "jenny seems pretty scared." her voice is garbled. "i won't be surpised if she pulls me today. do you think i should tell josh? not now, obviously." not with everything that had gone on last night. "but like, later..."

CALLIE

"crikey," callie laughs, ducking her head a little to hide a deeper blush. now it's just the fact that frankie's attention is on her so closely, coupled with having to hear her talk about what she looks like before she gets off. when frankie touches her under the water, she half fears that things are going to get slutty again, and there is a little bit of a warning bell in her head about it. not because she doesn't want to keep touching her, but because callie doesn't think it's in either of their best interest to be too handsy until they set some clearer relationship boundaries. granted, she's making no effort to pull away from frankie's arms around hers, her own hands still on the blonde. this comment about getting frankie off makes her smile despite itself, but she looks to the sky as she does it, not wanting to give the other girl the satisfaction of being proven right. her mouth opens to mention the weird kissing moment they shared... but the jenny and max scandal take over the conversation, justifiably. "yeah, we absolutely can't. shit," she makes another face, not sure if she should be disappointed in the waste of a future opportunity, or disgusted by the picture frankie is painting. mostly she just feels bad for them—even though she probably shouldn't, considering jenny is very clearly with someone else. still, getting caught doing that is just embarrassing, especially when they weren't supposed to be. "well yeah, i don't blame her," she says, cringing a little. "it doesn't make her look very good, now does it?" the thought of telling josh is so far from callie's head; frankie bringing it up makes her blink in surprise. are they friends? "later like when?" she asks. "i mean, what is jenny and josh's situation, anyway? they've only been together a few days, right? maybe they're not exclusive." but callie is doubting it as soon as the words leave her lips. "i don't know, do you want to get in the middle of their drama?"

FRANKIE

for a moment, frankie considers the unshakable truth that if anybody else she was dating had said 'crikey', she'd develop the ick, swiftly run eight miles, and potentially explode on the spot. but since it's callie, it's somehow permissable— maybe even adorable — forehead bumping against hers as she draws herself back from their embrace. her hand slides from her shoulder down to callie's wrist, threading their fingers so that the only part of them that remains touching is their hands, interlocked like loom bands on a friendship bracelet. "jenny's like... a textbook people pleaser, approval seeker. she wants everyone to like her and she can't stand it if you don't. for all we know, fucking max could have just been part of that." although frankie's met some militant people-pleasers in her life, and she's not sure any of them would ever go as far as to fuck someone to win their favour. jenny's a rare breed. "they've been together the same amount of time as us, maybe longer, and i'd want to know if you fucked someone else. i don't know, just... later in like a few days when he's not just been beaten up by a boxer." she considers callie's questions, a voice of reason when the runaway train of her mind seems to unhinge itself from the tracks, the slow hand of a child's hand guiding a model engine back on it's course. "maybe i won't. i don't know if it'd do any good. and i definitely don't want to be involved in their drama." gossiping about it is one thing, but actually placing herself into the narrative? ugly, messy, not her vibe. she'll watch from the bleachers with her popcorn, thanks. "i'll just see what jenny says." that's all she can do. as if to close the book on that conversation, she dips closer, pressing her lips to callie's in a chaste peck. "thanks for being my voice of reason, babe." at that, she ducks away to swim a lap of the pool.

CALLIE

"so you think she slept with max... why, to make him like her?" callie gives frankie a look, finding it hard to follow that logic. she doesn't know jenny very well, nor would she make any assumptions about her when everything she says is currently being filmed, but callie is willing to guess that jenny just wanted to fuck max, consequences be damned. knowing how hard she grafted josh before him and naomi broke up, it seems more likely she got bored in a happy couple. or maybe josh is just bad in bed. eyes soften a little when frankie points out how long they've been together, and it does make her second-guess frankie not saying anything. "i guess say something to him if you genuinely think he should know, not just because you want to throw jenny under the bus," she adds, knowing frankie and jenny clearly aren't besties. that much was obvious on the mechanical bull last night. hearing jenny out sounds like a reasonable request, nodding. callie grabs her drink as frankie does a lap, waiting for her to come back over before she finally dares herself to speak up. "hey," she calls, "uh, we should probably talk about this morning." she doubts she needs to elaborate, but she does anyway, words tumbling out of her quickly. "i, um, don't think things we say during sex are much of a binding agreement, but... i just wanted to make it clear that i'm really not interested in sleeping around. like, i don't plan on doing it with anyone else." a pause, and she tugs on her bottom lip gently. "and about the kissing thing... i don't want you to think i'm trying to lock us down and be exclusive, because i know it's a little early. i think my only thing is i don't want to find out you're interested in someone else after the fact, y'know? like if you wanna crack on with someone else then fine, just give me a warning. i don't want to have to turn a corner and see you making out with some rando, and i'm sure you feel the same."

FRANKIE

swimming settles her — in another life, she's sure she was a mermaid, or a sting-ray, or a shark. as a kid, frankie'd found a vhs of help! i'm a fish in a goodwill and watched it obsessively until her dad had to stick it in a donation bin just to get some peace. she's about to do another lap when she lifts her head above the water long enough to clock callie's expression. her hey feels loaded, and a ripple of fear rolls through her, the sudden realisation that she can't evade this conversation any more. she can't just bob along, horse-blinders on, ignoring any responsibility in favour of just having a good time. maybe that's always been frankie's issue — she'll take the instability and the potential for fun over a safety net, a life on the road rather than trawling through lettings ads, a job that has her travelling every day rather than picking a place and sticking with it. her whole life is one big failure to commit. as callie talks, there's an urge in her to reach out and touch her, but this isn't the time. swallowing, she hangs onto her words, tries to shrink the anxious feeling that's nestling itself in her belly.

frankie wants to swallow her own head back into her body like a turtle's neck, wants to dunk her head beneath the water so that the words are faraway and disconnected, a conversation happening to somebody else. she wishes they could be back in that sunny, carefree space where everything was sexy and fun and without consequence, that they could talk about japan, and euro-railing, and elvis the dog, and not draw up an agreement of terms that makes this relationship feel less like the meeting of two souls vibing and more like a binding contract. on the outside, this is the part where she runs. but frankie can't do that in here, and moreover she doesn't want to run from callie, because as much as she's scared, she’s also really fucking excited, gets a pulse in her stomach and a spring in her step whenever callie’s even near her.

being asked so directly where her head’s at is an uncomfortable feeling, but she decides to lean into it rather than shirk responsibility. "hey… listen. i want you,” she starts, grappling for the words, one hand sliding up her arm to rest against callie’s neck. “i've been like, tunnel vision on you since the day i came in, anyone can see that. i'm like, stupidly into you. but…” she falters, thumb padding against callie’s lower lip, her stomach tying in nervous knots as she tries to catch her breath. “i just don't know if i’m ready to go all-in after two days. like how well do we really know each other? how can you be sure that i'm your person when you've not even known me a week?"

already she can feel callie’s face fall, but if there's one thing frankie's reiterated since she came in, it's that she's honest, even when that brutally honest mouth can land her up shit’s creek without a paddle. “it’s not that i want to sleep around and kiss other people, because i don’t.” most of the time, when she thinks about kissing marcus, or naomi, or literally anyone, it’s not about the kissing itself — because kissing callie would trump them all — it’s about having the option. she chases that feeling of opportunity, gets high off the idea of choice. she'd make an absolutely killer suffragette, that's for sure. “i like you, and i want to continue getting to know you, but closing us off when we’ve known each other less than a week feels like we’re rushing. it’s just a lot of pressure. and i’ve done that before, like, i’ve been in situations where i’ve gotten super invested straight away and rushed into something without really thinking it through, and it just ends up messy and someone gets hurt, and i don’t want to do that here, i want to take our time and not feel like it's an impulse decision.” she can feel her words all starting to jumble together in an effort to get everything she’s feeling out in the open, so that there’s no room for doubt, or dishonesty. she just wants to lay everything on the table and for callie to see the cluttered traffic of her thoughts and still say she’ll give her a shot, restless and unpredictable and unpindownable as she is. “i know you’re saying you're not trying to make us exclusive, but that’s what it feels like to me.” her eyes are wide, a doe in the headlights, stress lining every crease of her features as her hands fiddle anxiously with callie’s fingers. “so i’d just rather be straight up with you and tell you that i'm not ready, and i need more time before i can make a massive decision like that.”

CALLIE

there's something about the way frankie slinks back over to her, like how elvis looks at her after not coming over to her until the fifth time he's called, that sets the tone of the conversation for callie. she can feel her stomach drop as she already prepares for the worst, but honestly, it's good they're doing this now. it doesn't take an idiot to see that callie is smitten, but she thinks some people here are mistaking her for a quick-to-fall love-blinded idiot. it kind of feel like frankie thinks of her that way, from the way this conversation goes. she's grateful for the drink in her hand, still casually draped over the wall of the pool as she sips and listens to what frankie has to say. the i want you doesn't feel as nice as it normally does, knowing there's a giant but that's going to come along with it. it's not one she hasn't heard already, from frankie and from other people. callie's face doesn't fall at the news, because it's nothing she didn't expect. instead her lips purse, holding back her comments until frankie's done talking.

the annoying thing is that in the real world, callie would agree with her. less than a week is too long to rush into something. but it's like frankie has forgotten where they are right now, or the show they're on. isn't that the whole point of love island: to find one person you like enough to want to stick with, and maybe get something good out of it? it's either the connection is good enough to keep going with, or it's not. sure, she had been open getting to know both liam and kenny at the same time, but that had been brief, and her feelings for either of them paled in comparison to whatever this is. maybe dylan had been right when he said to bring this up a few days ago, waiting until it feels too late to have this conversation. she wishes she could springboard her thoughts onto him right now, but instead frankie is unlucky enough to get them unfiltered.

"i'm not trying to make us exclusive," is the first thing she says, and she can't help a bit of annoyance seeping into her tone, because it's what's frustrating her the most. "i don't think asking for a heads up before you decide to crack on with somebody else is asking for a lot." her shoulder nudges frankie out of the way as she takes a few steps to put space between them, because the juxtaposition of them touching during this conversation is only annoying her more. "i don't really get where you're going with this," she admits, looking up to meet her eye. "is there someone right now you're interested in getting to know? i won't be mad if there is, but i think it's fair of me to ask. or are you waiting for the possibility of someone else coming in?" she can hear her words crackling with defensiveness, and callie's annoyed at herself for caring. but what else is she supposed to do? "i still want to get to know you regardless, but if you want to be more open... i'm going to need to pump the breaks a little." which is maybe what frankie wants to hear, but callie is referring more to the constant touching, and their terrace activities. "i like you, but i'm not looking to get blindsided in all of this. i can't be making these big plans with you when my fingers are inside you, and not know if tomorrow i'm going to see your tongue in someone else's mouth. i'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear."

FRANKIE

as soon as callie purses her lips, she knows she's about to get it, and no amount of telling her how hot she is when she's possessive will dampen the fact that she's pissed. oh fuck. maybe she should've just told her what she wanted to hear, but she already knows that callie doesn't like being pandered to, that she'd prefer to hear things straight up, and she loves that about her, that she won’t take shit from anyone. frankie's trying to be authentic, and she can't do that if she's lying, but it hurts to look at her face knowing she's said the wrong thing, even when she’s trying to avoid her getting heard. her heart's in her throat before she's even started speaking, breath quickening, eyes wide as the saucers she'd leave out for stray cats around the trailer park, and the nudge against her shoulder to rid her of frankie's affection stings more than a slap to the face ever could. if she squeezes her eyes shut, she could probably still feel the phantom smack of callie's hand against her ass, only moments before, when things were still fun and unserious. “it's not asking for a lot!” she agrees, biting on her lip, fingers balling from the urge to reach out and touch her. “and i will give you a heads up if there's someone else i wanna crack on with, obviously i will, but right now there isn't!” not in any substantial way, her only notions of 'cracking on' coming when the alcohol's flowing and her tongue's loose in a split-second of impulse before her thoughts return to the angelic figure in her bed. “i just... i don't want to be like, yeah, i promise not to kiss anyone else, when it’s still such early days.” and asking her not to kiss anyone else is asking to be exclusive. everyone keeps talking about fucking tests, but frankie hated school. she could count on one hand the number of test she’d passed, and this conversation feels like another one she’s bungled her way through and failed without even knowing it was a test in the first place.

there's something else that's flashing through her mind. callie had kissed frankie when she was happily coupled up with kenny, and since they've coupled up, she's been asking herself if that's a decision she regrets. given the option, would she do the same again? would she do it to frankie? it's not a fair thought to have, not when callie was the one to suggest they firm things up, agree to put one hundred percent into this, and no one else. “you’ve been in four relationships in here,” she says, when she’s certain her voice won’t shake, one hand on the side of the pool, inches from her frozen pina colada. “and this is my first go at being with someone in a really long time. so i’m sorry that i’m not a hundred percent yet, and that i want to take things slow.” she’s spinning out, afraid that this fragile, gorgeous, intoxicating thing that exists between them is slipping through her grip, and she can feel her eyes start to prick, the hand on the poolside clenching as she inhales, in for four, out for four, and starts to list things she can see, (painted turtles on the bottom of the pool tiles, the wrinkle that lines callie’s brow) smell, (the sickly sweet contents of two defrosting miami vice) and taste (guilt that wells up in the back of her throat and threatens to choke her). “the reason i’m saying this is because i don’t want to blindside you. i don’t want to promise you things when i’m not sure if i’m ready, but that’s not because i don’t like you enough to commit. callie, i…” her voice cracks then, and for a moment she has to tear her gaze away, afraid that it’ll betray how much she wants this, how deep the fear of fucking it up spans.

“i meant it when i say i really like you." her voice is strained with emotion, breathing almost as heavily as she was this morning, the two of them lying in bed. "more than i’ve liked anyone, in like… ages. it's actually gross and embarrassing how much i like you. and i can see a future for us, and i want that future, but that future’s like, ten steps away from where we are right now, and you have to give me time to catch up.” she wants to touch her, to pull her into her arms and kiss her and tell her that they’ll be okay, but touch is part of the problem. when she starts touching her, she can’t stop. “i really don’t want to lose you. and i want you to feel like this is an emotional relationship, not just a physical one. so we can take a break on the touching and stuff if you need that. we can take as much time as you need.” there's no way frankie wants it, but she'll do it if callie needs it. tentatively, she reaches out a hand to trail her finger over callie’s knuckles. is there a way she can backtrack, and say that she's thought about it more, and now she's ready? that she'll marry her in vegas this second if she wants. that she'll sign a no-kiss pact, do the u-haul, whatever she wants if it means she gets to keep her. “please, just... can we still be us?” part of her feels like she's already lost her.

CALLIE

for callie, the worst part about this conversation is how ridiculous it is. how it's not ending. by the end of frankie's second sentence — i will give you a heads up if there's someone else i wanna crack on with, obviously i will, but right now there isn't! — the conversation could be closed. really, it's the only thing that callie is looking for, to know whether she's interested in anyone right now, and to let her know if that'll change. but it's the rest that makes it hard, the way that frankie keeps driving home that she can't promise not to kiss anyone else. it's not like callie is some chaste, fair-hearted girl who falls in love at the first kiss. she had kissed naomi last night and it had been hot. honestly, watching frankie kiss naomi and marcus had been hot too. clearly frankie must have thought it was hot herself, some wires crossed somewhere that doesn't make her want to let go of potentially kissing someone else. it's one thing to cross that bridge when they get there, but to have her already asking for callie to not get upset if something were to inevitably happen makes callie think that's it's not an if after all, but a when.

this isn't the first time that her four relationships have been brought up before, and by now it feels like it's just going to be something that's constantly used against her, when callie doesn't see it as a bad thing at all. "i've been coupled up with four people, yeah," she says, letting go of her drink so her arms can cross over her chest. "it's not like i didn't like any of them, but it was pretty clear that things weren't going the way they needed to be. i'm not the kind of person that's going to force something if i'm not feeling it. but i also didn't do it just to date four people." if callie had come in and frankie had already been in the villa, she wouldn't have wanted to bother with anyone else the rest of the time. the same can't be said for the blonde, though, and while she's trying not to let it sting, it does.

it's hard not to feel defensive when it feels like frankie is trying to reject her, despite everything they're saying being mostly on the same page. "i'm not asking you to commit, frankie, okay?" her voice gets louder than she intended, lips pressing together tightly so she can take a breath through her nose and regroup. it almost feels worse to hear her say how much she likes callie, because while she knows it's true, it doesn't soften the blow any less. "stop acting like i'm asking you to leave with me and actually get a u-haul. you want to take things slow, and i want to take things slow. so... really, we're in agreement here." for as forward as callie is, she doesn't particularly enjoy conflict. it seems easier to end this argument now when they can both reach a consensus, rather than drag it out before more is said that will make her feel worse.

the brush of her knuckles makes callie soften a little, enough to let frankie's words sink in. turning her hand, she lets their fingers lace together. "i do feel like this is an emotional relationship," she insists, eyes moving from their interlocked hands up to frankie's eyes. "i guess that's why it's so hard. i can do just physical, and i can do just emotional. but together... it makes it complicated." complicated feels like the understatement of the century right now. "but i don't want to lose you either. and i like you, obviously," eyes roll lightly, letting out a short laugh to expel some of the tension out of her shoulders. "you say you don't want to get to know anyone here right now, but if that changes, i just want you to let me know. and i'll do the same." because callie's starting to think maybe she should be keeping her options open too, even if she doesn't want to. "okay?"

FRANKIE

the whole time callie's speaking her, there's a hyperactive part of her that's seconds away from screaming, and screaming, and not stopping. she doesn’t speak, doesn’t respond ; it’s like callie has the conch and while she’s holding it all frankie to do is listen to understand, but not to respond. she's blinking rapidly like a cursed china doll, all glassy eyed and beating herself up because there's no way she's gonna start crying over something she caused, even if it was unintentional. later on, when decisions are made around the fire pit, when the situation between her and callie once again grows tense, when max is sent home she'll be less concerned about holding back tears, content to lean into the discomfort and grow from it, learn from it. later on, she’ll lie in bed wondering if she made the wrong choice by choosing out of fear that her worst habits would catch up with her and ruin what they have before her mouth could. when callie’s voice rises in volume she almost winces, but she knows it comes from a place of hurt, because she cares — maybe even more than frankie realised — and there’s anger that comes with that caring, and maybe fear that she’s wasting her time, or that frankie doesn’t like her as much, which (considering her hesitance to close things off) is understandable, even if it isn’t true. she doesn’t address the more snappy comments, feeling like responding to them will only make them linger, permeate the air between them and damage it somehow. “okay. so we’re in agreement.” she breathes, beginning the slow climb back towards the place that they were. “let's just… take things slow, and then in a few days, or a week, we can have this conversation again. see how we both feel.” maybe then it won’t feel like it’s too soon. things move fast in here, but she doesn’t want to feel like she’s rushing into something just to catch up with other couples who’ve had far longer to get to know each other. “does that sound like a good compromise?”

when callie links their fingers, her heart falls from her mouth right back down her throat, lodges itself back into place in her rib cage and seems to grow two sizes at that contact. like the grinch in reverse, her heart's two sizes too big. she’s never craved the feeling of another hand in hers as much as she does in that moment, her own fingers offering a tentative squeeze as she releases a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. when callie meets her eyes, she’s butter in a hot pan, sizzling and melting under that stare, and feeling once again that familiar twinge in her gut, like she’d bend under her will in a second, do anything she asked, if she asked it like this. why couldn’t they have had the conversation now, when everything’s softer, more vulnerable, when they’re not both on the defence and simmering in their own stubbornness, but instead focused on understanding. “of course i’ll tell you if i start liking someone else. obviously. and if your mind changes... and you suddenly decide to graft seb," she snorts, watery eyed in her attempt at humour. "well, i won't like it, but i'll try to understand.” although it feels impossible that she could like anyone as much as she likes her. the trajectory this conversation has taken — from frozen cocktails and gossiping about jenny and max to the painful ache of finding common ground — has felt like emotional whiplash. “are we done arguing?” frankie asks, tentatively. her thumb rubs over callie’s thumb in soothing little circles, and she risks the sting of rejection by closing the distance, pressing her nose to callie’s, breathing in the coconut and sandalwood scent of her skin. “please can i kiss you now?”

CALLIE

she's relieved that frankie doesn't hurl anymore remarks about keeping their options open towards her any longer, smart or just content enough to just agree with her. her lips twitch at the word week (seriously, how long could she possibly need??), but there's a light at the end of the tunnel that is this conversation, so she's selfish enough to grab it, nodding in agreement. she already knows she's going to be annoyed when this future conversation happens, if frankie actually bothers to be the one to bring it up first or not, but callie has to remind herself what she's been telling everyone: that she can be patient. she's always thought patience is a virtue she possesses, but when it's related to something she really wants, dangling in front of her face like a cookie, it's hard not to make a grab for it.

there's no denying that before frankie, callie had been skating by in the villa. all she has to show for herself are couples that never lasted more than a few days, jumping from one person to the next to find some kind of spark. she hadn't known what she had been missing until she felt it when frankie came in, and she still feels it now, when their eyes meet and she can feel the space between them get ten degrees hotter. if this wasn't what she felt with frankie—a clear connection, one that she knows is reciprocated—then callie would already be ending it right now, or at least taking a giant step back. for now she only nods, ready to put this thing behind them. "don't hold your breath," she deadpans, about grafting seb. he's hardly the first person she'd go for in the villa right now. "yes, we're done arguing." and if that wasn't clear, the way she reaches for frankie's face to close the distance of their lips together does the trick nicely.

#callie & frankie ;#callie & frankie 005 #callie ;

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