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phoenixyfriend · 9 months ago

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How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

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kayas-kosmos · 1 year ago

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Because of what's happening on Twitter...

I've made a little diagram to demonstrate why billionaires and the ultra-wealthy are bad for society.

(Text in Image)

"If we view society as a body, every sector is like a different organ within the body that serves a function and works in harmony with other organs to maintain balance. Every part of the body is important for the whole thing to function."

"The ultra-wealthy want you to believe they are the beating heart and thinking mind of the society – they are the innovators who create our jobs and their brilliance drives society forward. They deserve to be at the top of society because they have earned that. Without them, the body won’t function because they are the most important part."

"In reality, they are more like a malignant tumour, sucking all of the blood (resources) away from everything else (people and the planet) to fuel its own infinite growth, depriving the rest of the body and slowly killing it. Workers create all of the innovation and keep things running, the ultra-wealthy take all the credit."

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

This is a public domain image so feel free to pinch it for whatever.

Elon Musk has put the careers of thousands of small business owners who depend on Twitter (myself included) in jeopardy by completely running it into the ground. Before this, Mark Zuckerberg had already been doing the same when he started pursuing Metaverse, making Instagram and Facebook much more unusable for artists. Do I really need to go into other examples of CEOs and very normalised practise of wage theft?

Meanwhile, the UK currently has the richest Prime Minister in its history. What is this man doing with this wealth? Continuing the Tory legacy of austerity in order to line his pockets and the pockets of his crony friends. This has resulted in a devastating cost of living crisis that continues to ravage the country as people's energy bills skyrocket out of control.

My diagram is pretty basic and lacks nuance, there's definitely more I could elaborate on with this comparison but I really don't have time. I just want people to get the basic point of how billionaires view themselves vs what function they actually serve. I'm also not here to debate whether some organs are more important than others since I'm not a doctor, that's not really the point here. And no, I don't care if people think I'm being harsh by comparing billionaires to a tumour. If they don't want to be compared to one they should stop acting like one. Jeff Bezos could end world hunger right now and chooses not to.

Also, I know a lot of people are going to come at me with the argument that billionaires give away massive amounts of money. First off, people like Jeff Bezos only give large sums of money to charity a.) for the sake of improving their public image and b.) because giving to charity allows them to write it off in their taxes. Also, charities in of themselves have a lot of problems, but that's a blog post for another day. Mutual Aid is a better way to help people directly. Really, the ultra wealthy need to be taxed, of course they do everything within their power to avoid taxes.

Also:

"Earning a lot of money" and "holding onto a lot of money" are two different things. You cannot be a multi-millionaire unless you hold onto that money. If you give away massive chunks of it to enrich society, you cease to be a billionaire.

Oh and this is worth a watch, too.

Furthermore:

Also before the inevitable great man comments:

Being a billionaire is a moral failing. Nobody needs that much money.

[Slight edit here - I made the assertion that a billionaire could not spend all of their money in their lifetime, but as someone in the comments pointed out it's very easy for them to completely waste billions in no time. Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have shown that].

Anyway, if you would like to see more anti-Capitalist art from me, I am currently working on a webcomic called "Flowerpunk" - a story about a group of anarchists who are trying to save the city of Wyrdon from a supernatural plague known as "the rot." The comic heavily discusses disaster Capitalism and how the rich will use mass death and destruction as an opportunity to further line their pockets.

I also like to do little anti-Capitalist doodles relating to this project, which I plan to make into posters at some point.

Please consider donating a Ko-Fi also if you would like to help support this project. I am really struggling at the moment because I've basically lost a massive chunk of my client base due to this Twitter implosion and also because of the AI BS that has made it impossible for me to get any reach nowadays. The last year or so has been an absolute nightmare for my career because of all of this.

Thank you all for your continued support! Hopefully I can re-establish my audience here on Tumblr and wherever else I decide to go.

#Twitter #twitpocalypse #elongated muskrat #eat the rich #eat the fucking rich #tax the rich #tax the 1%#tax the billionaires #anti capitalism #workers of the world unite #working class solidarity #Can you tell that I am absolutely fucking done with this BS?

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mildlycursedhistoricalobject · 4 months ago

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TW: SA

This is the only thing I’m gonna say about this, but yes, this post is about the Neil Gaiman allegations. Before I write my actual post, I’d like to say that my heart is with the victims and the victims only. I hope they receive both the support and justice they deserve.

Ok. Can we please stop attacking each other? People who are discrediting the stories of the women involved should stop, because surely they can see how the narratives they’re pushing are not only unhelpful but actively harmful. There really shouldn’t be “sides” here, because none us are involved in this situation, but it’s insane to me that some people have been so quick to completely dismiss the stories of each woman. People you like can be shitty.

However, everyone saying I told you so? That is equally NOT helpful. You’re not morally superior for disliking Neil Gaiman first, and again, the narrative that people “should’ve known better” is actively harmful for victims of SA.

In continuation, people are allowed to be upset that a work they’ve found solace in turns out to be created by someone accused of SA. I agree that this shouldn’t overshadow the emotional impact on the woman actually involved in the situation, but people expressing their own feelings about personal links to his work is not harming anyone, and shutting people down for doing that is once again NOT helpful.

I doubt I can seperate the art from the artist in this case, but those are my individual feelings. If someone doesn’t want to read his work anymore, that’s fine. If someone does, that’s also fine. Stop attacking each other, because like I said, the victims need to be put first, and forcing people to cut ties or not with Gaiman’s WORK isn’t doing anything constructive.

Now, in light of what I’ve just said I want to share two things (these are potentially triggering so please feel free to skip):

1. I was sexually assaulted in November last year by someone who I trusted, looked up to, loved, and I am still dealing with the consequences.

2. Do you know what novel helped me through this experience? Neil Gaiman’s “The Ocean at the End of the Lane.”

That book became very impactful in my life, very recently. So yes, as I said, I doubt I’ll be able to have the same relationship with it, or with Gaiman’s work, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that this whole thing has brought stuff up for me.

There are people like me all across various fandoms conected to Neil Gaiman. Stop assuming that you’re helping victims of SA by telling us we can’t feel upset because the work we found safety in was created by a man accused of the very thing that hurt us. You’re not helping.

I apologise of this post came across as irritated, or superior, because that’s really not my intention. I’m just saying there’s nuance here, and we should all think before we post. I’m just feeling pretty tired of all this “discourse” I keep seeing, and it’s distracting us from actual issues that we as a society need to be addressing.

To summarise, stop attacking one another. We should be supporting each other and the women involved.

(Edited a couple of words for clarity.)

#tw sa #neil gaiman #neil gaiman allegations #long post sorry #bit of a rant #I’m alright btw I just think my experience could be helpful for some people to understand why some people are upset #I don’t really form parasocial relationships so I’m not devastated by this news or particularly suprised #but I just don’t think acting better than someone else for not liking a celebrity is helpful #hopefully this makes sense #thank you for reading if you did #hang in there

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agatharkn3ss · 28 days ago

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The meaning of the Macbeth witches

As I continue raking the episodes for all the cool hidden messages, let's address the painting that Agatha has in her living room and, in her Agnes O'Connor delusion, she thought it was a one-way-mirror.

By now lots of people have identified the painting to be "Macbeth and the three witches" by Francesco Zuccarelli, based on William Shakespeare’s play “Macbeth”. I think it provides a fantastic insight into the characters and the direction of the show. Long post, but worth it!

(I am using lots of sources but not referencing them, because it would make this post a lot longer. Hope that's ok!)

The Three Witches (aka Weird Sisters, Weyward Sisters or Wayward Sisters) serve their mistress Hecate (nod to our Triple Goddess). They reveal to Macbeth his prophecy, which will eventually lead to his demise, and they hold a striking resemblance to the three Fates of classical mythology. The witches generally symbolize the supernatural in Macbeth and they call into question the nature of free will.

Why include this painting at all? There can be multiple meanings but I think the most obvious reason would be to continue the feminist theme of how witches/women are portrayed and therefore mistreated – highlighting the tendency to marginalize and discriminate women who uphold their individuality.

In the painting the three witches are shown as repulsive and ugly, with one of them holding a stick with a snake wrapped around it. And in the play they represent pure evil, as they drive a “noble and heroic man” into a power-craving ruthlessness which induces him to betray his friends and nation. However, people start to catch on that the treatment of the witches reflects the oppression and misogynistic values women experienced in the past.

We could probably draw some parallels with our witches. Lilia is driven out of every village she passes through for accurately predicting tragedy. Jen is called an inconvenient woman and bound – likely because of being a successful midwife. Agatha is being thought of as the evil, “most infamous” witch-killer. Lilia even goes as far as saying that Agatha is the very reason why those stereotypes even exist. But as the layers peel off, we get to see that she is a much more complex persona than just your “black” or “white” character. It is becoming clear that both Agatha and Lilia have shared a huge amount of prejudice and backlash just because of their unique abilities – not only because they can’t control them, but also because they are different. Lilia hates this discrimination and eventually hides from it like a “coward” (as Agatha noted), even though she might enjoy the things that make her a witch (like flying on brooms), while Agatha embraces the negative perception and uses it to her advantage, to create this defence wall around her and make people fear her. In their different ways, they both end up being slaves to those stereotypes.

I think there is also a bit of foreshadowing here, because it is interesting to set up this narrative and then introduce the character of Teen aka Billy Maximoff – the boy who (as we saw in Wandavision) was named by papa Vision specifically in honour of none other than William Shakespear!

Shakespear is not only the author of Macbeth, but has also been widely criticised for his treatment of women characters in his plays – they are shown to be emotionally weak and inferior to men. Even women in power are portrayed by him as manipulative, not to be trusted and with questionable morals (sounds familiar?). There are so many papers that explore this, but I think this one illustrates is best:

“In Ancient Greece, Hecate was a Goddess, who used to bless people with good luck, health, wisdom and victory. People often used to put a statue of her at crossroads or entrance-ways to scare the evil spirits. In other words, she was a goddess of ‘positive energy’. (...) In Macbeth, Shakespeare too presents Hecate as leader of the negative force who hatches a plan with the three weird sisters to misguide Macbeth towards a deadly end by keeping him in illusion. (...) Doing so, he denounces her godliness and demeans her stature by using the male centric religious perspective that causes much harm to women’s body and mind across time and space.”

While I don’t at all want to suggest that Teen is in any way set up as a misogynist, there is still that moral superiority complex - we see a glimpse of it in episode 5 when he essentially says he is better than them: “So that’s what it means to be a witch? Killing people to serve your own agenda? No, not for me.” Then of course he completely contradicts that in the next moment, when he literally buries the witches in the ground.

He seems to completely ignore the fact that it was him who wanted the Witches Road in the first place. The initial reaction of every single witch in the coven was always the same: “The Road will kill you.”, “The Road is a death wish”, “It’s a dead end. Literally”. Billy CHOSE to ignore this and actively pressured each of the witches to join. He needed them to serve HIS own agenda, knowing fully well that some of them could die. I hope he will soon realise that he is no different than the rest.

We can immediately see how he really is “so much like his mother” who chose to trap the Westview citizens, then when they got their identities back and told her about their torment, she literally tried to gaslight them by telling them they were fine and “at peace”. Then had the cheek to excuse her actions and show her superiority to Agatha by showing her the bodies of her original coven saying “You see the difference between you and me is that you did this on purpose” – the irony being of course that Agatha clearly couldn’t control her powers in that moment, so I doubt this was on purpose - same in Alice’s case

(sidenote: I think the reason Wanda thought that, was because she entered her mind and saw that Agatha probably blamed herself for it, maybe even believed that if she tried a bit harder, she would’ve been able to control it).

So…. Why use that painting in the interrogation scene? I’m sure there are many possible hidden meanings, but my interpretation is that in that moment Agatha/Agnes are playing exactly to take advantage of the stereotypes. Billy claims to know who she is. But really, he just knows those stories that she allows people to believe. He calls her out for not having “respect of her peers” or a “fulfilling home life” – as if that is what every “respectable” woman should want. Instead of feeling embarrassed, she immediately latches onto that and reminds him that this is exactly what makes her dangerous. “Hey, you know those three ugly witches? They brought Macbeth down just with their words!”. I am sure there could be further meanings if you really look deep into it. Could Teen be interpreted as Macbeth himself, surrounded by witches and relying on their help?

Another element here is of course Rio, standing on the other side of the “mirror”. The painting itself has allusions to death: the witch in white is often compared to a ghost and “the dark sky above the mountains is a metaphorical representation of death lurking around the king, around Macbeth, around every man confronted with his own destiny.” Yet again, we might be getting another hint as to Rio’s true identity (let’s face it – is there anyone left by now who doesn’t think she’s Lady Death?)

It is not entirely clear where Rio is at this point (she can’t be standing behind a painting?) and Billy doesn’t acknowledge her presence – he likely hasn’t even realised Rio intervened when Agatha kicked him to the floor. At one point he asked why she was looking at that painting (although, he might have said it as a misdirection, to bring her to reality). So maybe in this “Agnes of Westview” show, Rio really is equal to a ghost, hiding in plain sight and lurking through a window of Agatha’s mind. She is the only one who appears to actually SEE what Agatha is seeing (“Is this really how you see yourself?”), even goes as far as provide her with more “evidence” (fake victim/flower photos). She seems to know Agatha’s thoughts on the case even before she voices them – sometimes it looks as though she’s actually putting those thoughts in her head (what was that about the three witches defying the concept of free will?...) . Finally – Rio times it to perfection when she shows up at Agatha’s doorstep, (mis)quoting Pride and Prejudice and clearly aware of the sad scene Agatha had just experienced. So maybe Agatha is the Macbeth of the story? Is she destined for self-destruction?

I have yet to form my theory on Rio' involvement and her intentions. But I can’t help but think that her appearance is not quite as it seems – that we are “looking at it the wrong way” - is it a painting or a mirror?

To finish this off (phew!), I particularly like this one analysis of the Macbeth painting that points out the different sublime elements – the repulsive witches, the grandeur of nature and the loneliness of the hero. I think it fits Agatha's position as it concludes:

This theory of the sublime opposes the sublime with beauty as two exclusive concepts (like light with darkness) while recognising that both can provide pleasure. Sublimity may evoke horror, but the knowledge that the perception is a fiction can be pleasureful.

Edit: I have also spotted the clock in that scene states 3.33. There are more nods in the show to number 3 and Shakespeare uses the symbolism of trinity throughout the Macbeth play as an idea that tragedy/death comes in threes (3 witches, 3 apparitions, 3 murders etc.). So I feel there is some foreshadowing here as well (e.g. Agatha's wearing a jersey with no3 in the same episode that Alice dies).

Witch 1: Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. Witch 2: Thrice and once the hedgepig whined. Witch 3: Harpier cries “’Tis time, ‘tis time.”

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agathario #agatha x rio #lilia calderu #teen #billy maximoff #macbeth #hecate #three witches #zuccarellli #agatha all along spoilers #fate

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maxzinn · 8 months ago

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off topic but also on topic its so clear that the genshin/star rail (saying both cause theres a large overlap) have no capability of thinking.

there are so many fics where *reader* somehow becomes a (sex)slave or is forced to do horrible shit and just general dead dove behavior. the fact that the author used INGAME LORE, CANON BACKSTORY FOR THE CHARACTER proves how braindead so many people are.

like people try to free slaves/captors in media isnt a new thing. theres a lot of art of that angelhusk ship where one gambles for the others freedom (never watched it but its an example)

like having slaves/captors in media isnt new and never has been but the only reason people truely care is because its a hoyoverse game and cant handle anything darker or complex then a PG rating

(sorry anon, I got carried away with this one tee-hee)

YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THIS!!! y'know I was sooo confused when people started screaming for blood when the authors are using his IN-GAME LORE in their fics and then claims that the people who enjoyed writing those have "white-knight syndrome" like cmon sjsadhjg you're giving me a fucking stroke.

I'll say it again, wanting to give slave aventurine or someone a better life DOESN'T mean they have "white-knight syndrome" when they have good intentions!!! We were all were crying for him and his tragic past, we all wanted to comfort him, and we at some point also wished for his salvation and the betterment of his life. These people need to stop throwing these "white-knight syndrome" accusations cuz it's definitely not about that. And like you said, it was his IN-GAME LORE. I already expected some authors to write about reader saving him from his slavery and there's nothing wrong with that! Cuz please, don't tell me you won't help the guy out of his abusive owner, let's be fr here.

Like you also said, many have been writing yandere/heavy dark themes about reader being literally SA'd and R'd by said character (do not tell me you guys haven't read all those fics where Aven was our debt collector and in paying our debt, he noncon or manipulated us into sleeping with him 💀) and now they wanna talk about morals?

And please, don't even try bringing up Romania or irl people in here. IT'S A FICTIONAL RACE IN A FICTIONAL STORY. it may be "inspired" like they said, but it's not directly addressing Romania!!

I get their point alright, I truly do. Like I said in my other post, I do not condone the sex slave! aus about aventurine and the master/slave bdsm cuz his story truly hurt me and I'm uncomfortable sexualizing his slavery when I know about his story and what happened to him as a slave. But I won't go as far as to actually send death threats to those authors and act like a hypocrite💀 people can write what they want to write and I don't have to read those writings if I don't wanna.

Just to say, I'm a yandere/dark-content enjoyer as well, it's just that I draw the line when it comes to aventurine cuz I just wanna cuddle and dote on that man and give him all the love and affection in the world. but like I said, am no hypocrite as well. (sorry if I can't explain it very well but I hope you get the gist of it)

It's just funny and baffling how people are like "eww this person wrote a fic about reader buying slave aventurine so they can be a good owner to him".... this is leaving me speechless how they turned an act with good intentions into something malicious... that poor author doesn't even have bad intentions when writing that fic.

When you apply their logic, it's like saying "this person adopted an abused child so that they can be a good parent to that child, disgusting" do they even realize how stupid they sound??? 😭

#aventurine x reader #I just cannot with this #y'all giving me a headache with this one #funny how they turned a person's good intention into something malicious

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distardre · 4 months ago

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julance week 1: broadsword

feel free to read whoever's interested is a small info dump about swords bc i went down a rabbit hole of sword classification when i looked up a broadsword LOL

disclaimer that if you are a sword expert and i got anything wrong i am sorry, i am a measly english major who dropped out of his history course and got all this information off of comparing appropriately 20 quora posts and two random sword classification websites

(also i may be an english major but english is not my first language so sorry if the x edged blade, y hilted sword is not the way it is grammatically correct)

okay so basically nowadays the most mainstream sword among fantasy media and D&D and stuff is the broadsword HOWEVER that is not actually what the broadsword is; what is used in games, tv, etc is most commonly the arming sword (a double edged blade, cross hilted sword, intended for single hand use)

the broadsword is generally a double edged blade, basket hilted sword which's blade is wider than that of a rapier, it is intended for single hand use (hence the guarding of the hand at the hilt), and more or less is a double edged version of a backsword; it can also be referred to as a claymore (which however has also been used for the longsword in the past)

however, in the broader historical context (haha funny pun), a broadsword is literally that, a broad sword, or in other words a sword broader than a contemporary one at a given time

then we have the longsword, generally a double edged blade, cross hilted sword intended for two hand use, but can be wielded with one hand if the situation is fitted

however, we also can use the term longsword as its semantical meaning, a long sword or in other words, a sword longer than a contemporary one at a given time

then we have for example the great sword which is similar in shape to the longsword however really long, like up to the size of the person wielding it and the hilt has space for three hands and it's also fairly heavy; i saw one person refer to it as a sword shaped polearm which i found quite funny

uhhh yea okay i think thats all i have to say

i would just like to add the little detail of the fact that sword classifications are a modern thing, people back in the day would just call any sword a sword, they might use long sword and broad sword in their semantic sense but other than that they were just swords

it was with the rise of fantasy media and their focus on the middle ages that swords became misclassified too with the arming sword becoming so popular under the wrong name

moral of the story: sword classification is really confusing :)

here is the quora post i found most interesting, and pretty much all of its information checked out with others i read, if anyone wants a (admittedly way) more comprehensive explanation than mine!

#art #digital art #fanart #vld #vld lance #julance #2024 julance #julance 2024 #voltron #voltron lance #distardre art

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sgiandubh · 5 months ago

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The thing is, this escort mess won’t have an impact on Sam or his image or his products sales. The only ones talking about the mysterious woman and her true profession is this little bubble on tumblr.

The twitter accounts who saw the JJ pictures and knew an obvious pap walk tweeted about it on the day. But they aren’t tweeting about the escort because it isn’t public news, they won’t know it unless they look in this corner of tumblr or people on tumblr post the info on twitter and it gets traction.

The (religious) Sam mommies aren’t leaving Sam’s side because they would never believe it regardless of the proof. If Sam was papped tomorrow with another woman, that would be Sam’s new love. See P**v’s world.

Hawaii had an impact because it was all playing out online, on Sam’s SM feeds, from Sam himself. But other messes that have come up over the years that were big in this tumblr bubble never made it outside of here, had no impact to Sam.

Unless respected publications pick up who the woman is and print it, the public at large will not know. And that will never happen because they only publish what they are told, like Starz in this situation since the article only mentions Outlander and Blood of My Blood, or what Starz/PR have given confirmation to print. These publications won’t go rogue and lose their business with these studios/PR.

Dear Excuse Him Anon,

You wrote a PhD dissertation just to mitigate a couple of things and completely disregard what I wrote. Not nice, girl.

Did you look at the comments under that JJ photo reel featuring the pap walk? They are abysmal. It's between gay and 'professional companion'. Those are, for the most part, casual viewers and followers. It should give us, his PR and himself a pretty good idea about impact. Do you honestly think this is ok, or something he'd get rid of anytime soon?

Anyhow, these are just regular people. If you do think those agents, directors and producers of mainstream Hollywood don't know by now who the hell she is, you are naive. Same goes for his business and CSR contacts. They know. And they do simply because this is about money, first and foremost. Business. So, spare me your good sentiments: you clearly have no clue of what you are talking about.

Suppose that I, as a diplomatic agent posted to Athens, would have been seen buying smuggled cigarettes on the Piraeus docks. How long do you think it would have taken my colleague from Cipher (but not only Cipher, of course) to find out? And by the way: this happened to one of the technical personnel at a friendly Embassy (they do not have access to diplomatic duty free perks), while I was still there. He was sent back home in two weeks, Anon. Standard NATO security rules. So yes: different situation, but same rationale. Prestige and image before anything.

Hawaii 🐰never made it to mainstream press, not even as a 'mystery companion'. And not even to JJ. Damage contained pretty well by S, too - in a very emotional, confused moment, in which even C stepped in with a heartfelt appeal ('If you do not like us, do not follow us', or something along those lines) . Their luck and ours.

The religious Sam mommies won't leave his side until they snap and do, Anon. People can tolerate many things, but it is unlikely they would tolerate something so alien to their own moral code for eternity. Again, naive.

Also, the public at large DGAF about S and his paid pap walk companion. Also, don't ask why he has only flop film proposals. Here's your answer.

What a waste, Anon. What a waste. Lost respect is very difficult to earn back. And he lost a lot of it in what, 24 hours? Wow, Anon. Wow.

Add to this the completely tone deaf ad for Outlander World Day or what the hell it is called and you'll be as (second-hand) embarrassed as I am right now, Anon. Because that is not a bastard, far from it. Just someone in dire need of a complete PR intervention, until it's not too late. If he'd only listen.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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celestialholz · 1 year ago

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The Resurrectionist (or 'Crowley's dying briefly because character-building, and here's why')

I should start off by saying, friends, that I have written exactly zero books. (Bloody lot of fanfiction, but no actual novels). And I like coffee, but not particularly with oat milk. (The poison's metaphorical, not physical), but... well, you guys can keep both of 'em, because they're just not relevant to this conversation. I am also, as you may have already guessed, not Neil Gaiman. A chick can only speculate, but she does like to back it up with actual evidence.

No, I'm simply here to ask you a question.

What's the single worst thing Heaven could ever do to Aziraphale?

What would drive our angel so far from the clutches of Heaven that he would never, ever wish to return? What would set him unequivocally free from six millenia of assumed responsibility; what would make him realise that God can never change? What would strip everything away from him?

Because of course, this is what we have to do next series. This is Aziraphale's whole arc. If he doesn't try and change things and fail, he will always wonder. Always have a 'what if.' Will never be able to truly move on, will never be free from the eternal abuse cycle.

And so the severing has to be monumental, and everlasting. Then we get our happy ending. Storytelling, loves, done flawlessly. (Again, not a novelist... just a girl who's been writing for over half of her lifetime.)

And so, I ask again:

What's the single worst thing Heaven could ever do to Aziraphale?

And, well, it's a manifold question isn't it, with lots of potential ans - no I'm just kidding. Very simple question, very simple answer.

So congratulations to the very likely hundreds of you who have just said 'murder Crowley,' because a. you're very much correct and b. we've all just predicted the end of series three.

(... I mean, probably not the very end. But the emotional crux, definitely.)

And naturally, I'm not talking discorporation. I'm talking 'wiped from the universe altogether, leaving our angel eternally alone' kinda murder. The real shit. The good shit. Never mind any of this 'editing the Book of Life leading to an ineffable paradox' kinda bullshit - this is Heaven, the natural source point of holy water. One miracled Supersoaker and our demon's ancient history, friends.

Because y'see guys, severing Aziraphale's connection isn't the only problem we face in terms of narrative romance. We've also got Crowley, who has spent six millennia being in love with a guy who just takes, takes, takes... him for granted.

And this is NOT to say that Aziraphale gives him nothing back - he so very clearly does. (I am a consummate Aziraphale apologist, Crowley's just as much of a fool post-series two as our angel is, and Aziraphale needs this, as I've mentioned.) But... Crowley is his teacher. His moral guide. His protector. It mostly goes one way, and despite all of that and him being happy to be that guy for all this time... right when it matters most, Aziraphale (to Crowley, at least) has abandoned him. He's told him he isn't good enough.

(... Which is bollocks. That's not what Aziraphale's said at all, they're both as overprotective as each other and have a desperate, painful longing to keep one another safe in their own best way. But it sure fucking looks like it to CROWLEY, which is what matters.)

And so, we have two issues in achieving our happy-ever-after.

Sundering Aziraphale from Heaven forever;

Ensuring Crowley trusts him fully and knows completely that he is Aziraphale's only choice.

(And also by GOD do they need to have a proper conversation, but that one kinda goes without saying. It'll happen.) We have to even up this relationship; we have to make it absolute narrative equilibrium, and I am absolutely sure Neil knows this probably far better than I do.

... And so, how do we achieve both these things in one hit, whilst also telling a Second Coming story and holding a celestial war?

Well, we kill Crowley. Obviously. Not until episode five or six and after an emotional, romantic reunion of mutual understanding, but... we kill Crowley.

... And then Aziraphale brings him back. Yes, from complete death.

I would like at this juncture to remind you that miracles, apparently (and this is a thing we've just learned guys, almost like it's suddenly going to be relevant ongoing) are measured in Lazarii.

(Great thanks to the Aziraphale to my Crowley, @porgthespacepenguin, for these few screenshots I'm showing off here today. You'd never leave me, not even for my own good. <3)

Lazarii is very obviously named after Jesus' apparently greatest miracle, of raising Lazarus from the dead in the book of John. They managed to achieve twenty-five times the necessary amount of energy it takes to bring someone back from death... without actually fucking trying.

Let's take a look at the book of John a sec. Or more specifically, its eleventh chapter and twenty-fifth verse.

Jesus told her, "I am the resurrection and the life. The person who believes in me, even though he dies, will live."

My thanks to Neil once again for murdering me like Heaven's going to murder Crowley. Cold blood, point-blank.

'Who believes in me.' Huh. Only for the past six thousand years, Aziraphale dear...

Here's a little of what the internet has to say about the number 25 in numerology, by the way.

And may I also remind you at this stage that there is a pub in this series called The Resurrectionist, and only Aziraphale goes into it.

I mean sure, Crowley's booksitting and trying to make the ladies hilariously like him and Aziraphale fall in love in the same way he himself did, but the fact remains... one relevant pub name. One guy. (We all need a narrative excuse sometimes Neil, I get you.)

Considering all this, friends, let me ask you another question. This one's a little more wordy, that's on me.

What do you think would happen when a being capable of raising someone from the dead twelve and a half times over for the sake of his beloved's protection loses said beloved beyond all doubt?

... And this will be after he gains the ultimate celestial power-up, by the way. In case we'd forgotten that that alone is also about to boost Aziraphale to the fucking stratosphere, and finally put him on an equal footing with Crowley. (Who is clearly an ex-archangel, but not Lucifer, so Neil's since said.)

... And I think we know the answer, don't we? The kind of miracle that

(You can't see me, but I'm staring into the camera like I'm one of The Office main cast right now.)

This is the kind of power that fucks with reality - the kind of power that scares Heaven and Hell to absolute death, hence Metatron being in the DMs. And crucially, this miracle was boosted because of love. Because of a desire to keep the status quo, their 'own side'. You amplify both those conditions to the nth degree by destroying one of them? It's over, lads. Resurrection is the beginning.

Resurrection evens up a playing field. It destroys Aziraphale and renews him in one hit; it proves to Crowley once and for all that Aziraphale loves him exactly as he is.

... It's a no-brainer, pals.

And what do they do after this? Well, fuck up the celestial order, naturally. I have theories, the main one of them being that they're going to be God and Satan respectively and unite Heaven and Hell in eternal marriage, but... that's just a theory. A television theory.

The resurrection thing? Not so much.

... See, this is the thing, my friends. You don't need to have written a 16k essay to predict the future.

All you need is the ability to tell a story, an observant eye for that which is already present, and a simple question. (Followed by a mildly more complex one. It's a working allegory.)

... I'm just going to leave you with this one shot of Aziraphale picking up his own destiny. Because poetic cinema.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #and even a little bit of #good omens season 3 #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #the nice and accurate prophecies of celestialholz #good omens meta

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kyndredravenstories · 3 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 1

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148132144

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

"Trapped in the abyss, I long for you in this delirium. There's so much to say, but I'm silent. Too much time has passed since I held you, and now I fear that my love will just break you. So, into the darkness I go to protect you. Yet, no matter where I roam or how far I fall, half of my heart is always with you. "

Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong people. Wrong everything.

Wrong wrong wrong.

I never should have volunteered to go on this trip!

Over and over, that mantra loops in my mind, cranking up the pressure of my rising anger so tight that my teeth grind together painfully. Sulking in a petulant silence, I wrap the worn hotel quilt tighter around my shoulders to keep out the chill. The furnace is blasting, but it's not enough to warm me up after a thorough dousing in freezing rain.

I'm on high alert despite my misery. My gaze never strays from the man across from me on the narrow couch. Wariness and suspicion keep my back and shoulders tense even as I shiver in my sodden and frozen clothes. My eyes follow his long fingers as they absentmindedly manipulate the phone screen held between a pair of large hands.

Sharing the raggedy couch with me is none other than Sylus, though his demeanor is a far cry from mine. Despite the glowing and hissing Linkage wrapped like a manacle around his wrist, he sits with his legs crossed and his body relaxed. His blood red eyes take in a virtual Auction on the TV while his free hand makes sales and purchases on his phone.

A gun sits beside him on the armrest, but it doesn't concern me. This man needs no physical weapon to be terrifying. It is his Evol that's the true threat. That, and his ruthless and calculating nature. It's not a struggle to remember just how cruel and merciless he can be, even as he looks perfectly divine and statuesque while sitting still.

Yet, it's not his past or his reputation that has me wringing my hands and forcing myself to breathe deeply in order to stay calm.

It's an internal moral battle that has me on edge - one that's been tormenting me for months.

It's the struggle between knowing I am less than three feet away from the most dangerous man I've ever met and also admitting that I find him impossibly disturbingly attractive. Not just his looks. One doesn't need to have good vision to appreciate this man's allure. It's the conundrum that makes up all that he is.

A dangerous man who has taken lives many times before. A man that forced me to point a gun to his chest and shoot. A man whose mere name is enough to make monsters fall in line. Yet also, a man that's saved my life. A man who smiles at me and teases me. A man I've danced with on more than one pleasant occasion.

A bottomless, tempting, mystery.

Outside, a storm howls and thunders just like my thoughts. Periodic flashes break through the murky grey skies, each noise grinding on my nerves. I've had a bad day already; worse than bad. But, I dare not wonder how it could possibly get worse. That's what got me in trouble at the train station in the first place when I stepped out into a blizzard without any kind of weather gear to learn that the staff had misplaced my bags and luggage.

I'd wondered, then, how things could get worse.

Precisely one hour after, fate dropped this confounding man into my path. Then, precisely ten minutes after that, our Evols had locked us together.

With a crack of lightning, my patience snaps.

"Oi...Sylus..."

He doesn't look at me as he answers. "What is it?"

His voice is soft, like velvet; he sounds bored, though I'd never been able to read any of his thoughts or predict any of his actions.

I hate how calm he is.

I hate that despite running beneath the rain to make it to the hotel, he seems to be a lot more dry than me. His hair isn't dripping wet like mine, though his grey designer sweatshirt does cling to his muscular chest more than I'm comfortable observing.

I clear my throat.

"You've spent the last two hours calmly bidding on who knows what while we're trapped here. You've bought enough weapons to stock an armory. Just how the hell are you so relaxed?"

Still tapping away on his phone, Sylus maintains a calm and neutral expression. "It's not like there's anything I can do to remove this at the moment," he wiggles his Linked arm, tugging on my own manacle in the process.

I grind my teeth to the point of pain, forcing down my irritation as water drips from my hair onto the quilt. "Fine. Time for you to answer some questions, then."

"Ask away," he hums in that composed and arrogant tone that always riles me up. He sounds about as interested in this conversation as a tired Hunter recruit at orientation. And no wonder; despite the murky weather, it is only 2:00 PM. For Sylus, it's the middle of the night. He's likely exhausted, but I'm not feeling particularly empathetic at the moment.

"First question. I travel to the Arctic, 3688 kilometers away from the N109 Zone. I lose my luggage and get caught in a ferocious rainstorm on my way to the hotel. I then bump into you. Why?"

He finally glances at me, and my heart leaps into my throat when the emptiness in his crimson orbs twinkles with a hint of amusement. The corner of his full lips turns up just enough to transform his expression from annoyed to mildly entertained. On Sylus's face, this looks like a kind of hunger; like a hawk catching sight of a mouse.

"I'm also curious," he drawls, making me squirm in my seat. "I would have thought that the Hunter's Association would take better care of their employees."

I glare at his flippant reply, and he rests the side of his head gracefully on his hand, leaning against the nearby armrest.

"I don't often take vacations, and yet here I saw a familiar face. A lost little dove that needed my protection, if you will."

I huff, wrinkling my nose. "I already told you. I'm the farthest thing from a small animal that needs looking after, especially by a predator like you."

The amusement lingers in his gaze, and I press on.

"Second question. I'm here for a symposium with the Arctic Hunters in this hotel. What about you? Are you here to turn yourself in?"

"You didn't book the entire hotel. I have the money, and they had a vacant room. Why can't I stay here?"

His calm and steady logic sours my mood even farther. Seething now, I raise my Linked arm.

"Third question. Why does this blasted tether's duration increase every single time?" My anxiety eats away at my bravado, and my voice wavers. "What if it doesn't go away when the event starts later tonight?"

Sylus doesn't seem bothered by that prospect. He shrugs, his eyes fading back to those of a bored bystander. "We can go together. Probably."

I can't help it. I snort at his proposal. "Oh yeah, I should definitely introduce my Hunter friends to the renowned leader of Onychinus."

"All you can do is pray for divine intervention, then. Remember piety is key," he advises, his voice overflowing with sarcasm.

I give him a withering glare. "That's rich, coming from you."

Feeling defeated, I stare at the Evol Linkage that's impossible to cut. "This thing didn't bind us together for no reason. There has to be a way to break it."

Sylus tilts his head, frowning. "How? You were asleep the last two times it untethered itself. You even pinned down my arm. It was very inconvenient."

Heat rushes up into my cheeks at the memory. I try not to think about how close I've gotten to this man over the last half a year. To say he makes me uncomfortable is an understatement, mostly because it is not the kind of discomfort one feels when one is close to an enemy. Instead, it's the kind of feeling that makes it impossible to meet his gaze directly for too long. The kind of frustration that has my eyes lingering over his long-legged muscular form far too often.

I hate being close to him. Hate the way his hair, even when mussed, falls perfectly over the side of his face. Hate the sculpted line of his jaw and the attractive ridges and dips of his neck and his shoulders. My fingers squeeze into my palms, remembering how it felt to wrap measuring tape around him during our escapade in the boutique a few weeks back.

"You've been staring at me quietly for some time. Isn't there a fourth question coming?" He leans back against the pillows, and I have to wonder for the hundredth time whether this arrogant and sly man can actually read my mind.

"You have a point, Sylus," I concede. "What if we recreate the circumstances of when the Linkage disconnected itself? We should be able to figure out the trigger, right?"

Sylus glances at his phone, dismissing me. "That sounds more like superstition than science. Do you expect me to lull you to sleep?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

He lets out a short breath, rubbing a furrow between the wings of his graceful eyebrows. Pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose, he waves his hand in the air. Black mist rises up and swishes around the room, shutting all the blackout curtains and leaving us in near darkness. The only light remaining is a small desk lamp. He glances at me, curled up in my quilt as far from him as possible. His eyes glitter as he motions for me to come close.

"Alright, then, sweetie. Time for bed."

There's a sudden intimacy in his voice. It cuts me to the quick, stealing my breath and numbing my mind. I can hardly formulate an immediate response.

"I'll get water on you," I grumble, glad for the darkness; glad he can't see how red my face must be. That's another thing I hate. His pet names for me. At least, I try to hate them. Lately, hearing them makes my heart beat just a little faster.

"I'm not perfectly dry myself," he says, running a large hand down his chest.

"Still..."

"Then you should change. Unless you want to catch a cold."

"My luggage was lost, remember?" I wrap the quilt tighter around myself. "Besides, there's no way I can change while I'm chained to you."

I inwardly curse as I shiver again. This time, Sylus notices. His smile grows, and he gestures for me to approach again.

"Come on, kitten. Last time I checked, I'm not going to melt if I get some water on me." His voice deepens as he adds. "I'll even warm you up."

I squirm in my seat again, now entirely against moving anywhere near him. Something still hangs in the air between us, the same charged atmosphere that I experienced while taking his measurements and asking for his help picking out a dress at the boutique.

Seeing my reluctance, he rubs his fingers on his lips thoughtfully. "Alright, then. Suit yourself. But I somehow doubt you can fall asleep when you're shivering like a rabbit in a snare."

My eyes narrow. "Stop comparing me to small animals. It's rather insulting, considering that I fight just as well as you do."

It's a lie, of course. Sylus's power is incomparable, but I can hold my own at his side for the most part.

I try to cross my arms angrily, but the Linkage stops me. Though I yank hard on the chain, Sylus might as well be a boulder. His wrist doesn't move an inch.

"Just calling it as I see it," he continues to tease, his gaze unyielding and unwavering. "The way you look now," his eyes scan me up and down, "reminds me of a grumpy, hungry, and very tired kitten."

My eyes can't help but follow his hand as he continues to stroke his full lips. Hypnotized, I hardly hear it when he asks me a question in turn.

"You are hungry, aren't you? We've been here several hours, and I doubt someone as frugal as you would have splurged to buy something on the train."

My stomach chooses that moment to let out a rather loud groan of protest. Mortified, I sink into my quilt and look away from him. Sylus chuckles softly.

"I can order room service, at least."

"No!" I rush to stop him when he reaches for his phone. As I lunge for his hand, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap. It's awkward. It's embarrassing. He's as large as a full grown grizzly bear, and he makes me feel completely helpless and tiny when I'm close to him. It's a thrilling kind of feeling, and one that I also really truly want to despise...

...but can't.

I squirm to get away from him, but he holds fast. In moments, I'm settled in his embrace, left with no options for escape.

"Shall I sing you a lullaby?" he asks sarcastically.

"Please don't. Being draped over you like this is bad enough."

We sit in silence for a time, my heart beating faster and faster as his body heat begins to seep into me. He's like a furnace, and soon I start to overheat. His chest undulates with deep steady breaths. His toned abs burn into my back; his huge arm wraps around me, shackling me in place just like the Linkage on my wrist. I can smell his aftershave, and it does terrible things to my rational mind.

"Sylus, I can't do this. I'm uncomfortable. The couch is too small. Let's try something else."

"As if," he sighs then yawns.

With his hand laying casually on my stomach, I can't relax at all. In an attempt to steer myself back in a morally acceptable direction, I run one of my fingers across the back of his hand. His palm is like two of mine. His skin is a mixture of smooth expanse and rough spots at points where it would normally rest against a weapon in combat. His knuckles are rough, too. Realizing that I'm taking liberties, I scramble to move my hands away and mutter an apology.

"Did you find something interesting on my hands?"

"Just remembering how much blood is on them," I say spitefully.

Instantly, I regret my sharp tongue. I squeeze his thumb apologetically and nearly jump out of my skin when his free hand strokes the ends of my hair.

"Then, I suppose it's a good thing you're not squeamish." His voice is softer now, but I don't trust myself to look up at him.

"This really isn't going to work," I tell him again. "Please, Sylus. Let's' try something else."

"I give you an inch...and you take..." his voice drifts off.

Silence, then.

"Sylus?" I whisper in the darkness.

No way. He did not just fall asleep while in the middle of a sentence. The tension drains out of me all at once, and I rest my head against his chest so I can see his face. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, his face relaxed in repose. He's resting the side of his face on the hand that was just stroking my hair, long black lashes fanning out on his regal cheekbones.

He's devastatingly handsome, like an artist sculpted his features from the finest alabaster.

My chest tightens. All my frustrations aside, to think that a man like Sylus could fall dead asleep in a strange room with a strange woman tethered to him is unthinkable. Either his confidence exceeds my expectations or...

He trusts me.

I let that sink in for a minute, frustrated when the knowledge leaves me even more confused.

In the last six months, we've been through quite a few ordeals and crazy situations together. He's become a rather constant presence in my life, enough for me to worry when I didn't hear from him for several days. Enough, too, for me to dream about tending to his wounds.

But, even after spending all that time with him, I'm still processing all the things he makes me feel.

He scares the hell out of me. But, I feel absolutely safe with him. I can rely on him in a pinch. If I ask him to, he will clear obstacles out of my path. But, too often, he ends up being an obstacle and a source of strife himself.

I stroke the back of his hand with my fingers, making circles as I mumble to myself. "Every time we meet, something bad happens. Usually for me. You must be the harbinger of trouble."

"Hmm?" he stirs, opening his breathtaking red eyes to give me a disapproving look. His brow furrows, sensual lips curving down in mild irritation. "Stop chattering and go to sleep," he rumbles down at me. "This was your idea, after all."

We lapse into silence again, but nothing changes. Now that my head rests against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It's slow and steady, but it sounds different than any heartbeat I've heard before. It's almost like there's an echo behind every beat.

His necklace catches my eye, and I can't help but bring my hand up to fiddle with it. I toy with the chain for a moment then slide my finger upwards to the neckline of Sylus's sweatshirt. It's just a normal piece of clothing with a cut that isn't any lower than an average shirt of its type. But, the way it fits on Sylus is borderline criminal. The casual cut leaves his neck and collarbone exposed.

Entranced, I tap the pad of my finger against the base of his throat. His neck is muscular, but also long and graceful. A steady pulse flutters against my fingertip, and I quickly lower my hand, shocked that I allowed myself such liberties. I can't help it, though. This man absolutely confounds me, and despite my best judgement I can't help but want to know everything about him.

I take a deep breath as quietly as I can.

"Sylus, I can't sleep."

"I can," he retorts calmly. "If you'll let me."

In the face of his indifference, my irritation grows. I want to retaliate, but while I'm thinking about a way to do so, one of his eyes opens to look at me.

"Today's patience is wearing thin," he frowns. "Though I don't dislike your explorations, it's better if you just calm down and go to sleep."

A large hand presses my head against his shoulder. My cheek brushes against his sweatshirt, releasing a cloud of scent. Manly. Clean. Sharp.

Calm down? As if!

My heart is thundering in my chest now, and I don't think I can stand being this close to him for another second. I renew my efforts to squirm out of his grasp, my actions greatly annoying my oversized human pillow. In a single powerful motion, Sylus gets to his feet and lifts me into his arms. Not like a princess, but like a sack of potatoes that he practically tosses over his shoulder.

"Put me down," I demand, but he doesn't bother to listen. Two or three steps with his long legs takes us to the bed. He throws me down onto it then leans over me, pressing my Linked wrist into the mattress. His leg settles between mine, and I stop breathing entirely. With my free hand, I push against his shoulder.

His other hand takes control of my wrist, and he guides it down onto the mattress next until I'm completely pinned beneath him. His grip doesn't hurt. He's somehow careful not to cause me pain, yet he is as unyielding as a dam against rushing water.

"You've been letting these hands run wild for a while now," he murmurs, his gaze unreadable. "Is it my turn for exploration?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, breathless.

"Should I do to you what you've been doing to me for the last hour?" His crooked smirk returns. When he tilts his head, some of his bangs fall forward, giving him a rough and tumble or "just out of bed" kind of appearance. Alarm bells go off in my head. I have to get away.

Now.

I'm a Hunter.

He's a king of the criminal underworld.

There could not be a worse match-up in all of history.

But, the thought of pushing him away now hurts. What I really want isn't escape. I'm no fool, even if I am terrible with love and with relationships. The closest I've come to intimacy in the last few years has been a battery powered quick fix lying in a dusty box under my bed. Even so; even without having a wholesome understanding of what it means to yearn for someone, I can no longer deny that I want this man more than I've ever wanted someone before.

It's unhealthy. It's ill advised.

"Please, Sylus," I breathe, and his eyes slip to my lips. His dark pupils dilate.

"What are you asking me, kitten?" he murmurs, letting go of my wrists to slide his hands up until our fingers wrap around one another. "The terms of a contract should be clearly stipulated."

"Let me go," I beg him.

He doesn't miss a beat, as though he already knew what I was going to say.

"That's not what your eyes are asking me," he counters.

"It's what I'm asking," I insist, my heart squeezing painfully.

Something yanks on the Linkage, then, and before I can react, the same force pulls Sylus towards me. I gasp as he presses into me. In a blink, he brings up an arm to rest on his elbow, keeping most of his weight off to avoid hurting me. He sighs, glancing at the Linkages. Somehow the chain between our wrists has disappeared. The manacles are interlocked, forcing Sylus and I into even greater proximity.

"What have you done now?" he groans. My body grows taught at the vibrations of his voice in my ear. So soft. Languid. Like a lazy afternoon in the sun.

"N-Nothing," I insist. "You threw yourself at me."

"Then how do you explain this?" he gestures with his head to the Linkages.

I honestly have no good answer. Right now, it's all I can do to stare at the corner of the ceiling so I don't meet his gaze. "I don't know what happened, but they're like two snakes trying to devour each other," I mumble.

Desperate, I try to move myself out and away from him. To my horror, the manacle around my wrist tightens even more. I yelp at the painful pressure.

Sylus's low chuckle ruffles the fine hairs at my ear. "You know, sweetie, the more a snake's prey tries to escape, the more tightly it gets strangled."

I shiver, closing my eyes. "That's within your control, then, isn't it? Please, you need to move first. Let me go."

He shifts marginally, his shoulders tensing. "Hm, looks like someone is about to walk in."

I finally look at his face. "What? Walk in where?"

"I'm saying we're about to have a guest."

"Stop trying to scare me. Do you enjoy being an as--"

Past the wall of the bedroom, I hear the sound of a scraping key card over the white noise of the TV. My heart leaps into my throat, body breaking out in cold sweat. Oh no! I'd forgotten that we have assigned room mates on this trip, too. It must be Lois, the young Hunter girl I'd met at headquarters a week ago. If she sees us like this --

I buck beneath Sylus's hold, now putting everything I have into getting him off of me. Fortunately, he decides to cooperate. I manage to push him off me and scramble to the edge of the bed. I look around wildly, my heart pounding. The hotel room has only one exit, which means we need to hide. I spot the closet a short distance away.

"Get in," I hiss violently, yanking on our Linkage and stuffing us both into the tiny space. I slam the door shut and struggle to breathe. At this point, I'm in serious deep water. Even if nobody knows that this is the the Sylus, I will have a witness that saw me bringing a man to my hotel room on a business trip. My reputation will be ruined, and I will likely face temporary suspension. Just imagining the spreading rumors makes me want to vomit.

If someone sees me like this, I won't be able to clear my name even with a redemption arc.

"Ellara!" a cheerful voice resounds from the living area. "Are you here, girl? I can't believe you missed the first part of the presentation!"

I stay silent, chanting prayers to whatever deity would listen in my mind.

"I heard you lost your luggage. Poor thing, but you can borrow some of my clothes if you want." Her footsteps and voice grow louder. "Tara's downstairs waiting, come on!"

My back cramps, and I look down. In my rush, I sat down in an awkward position on the ground. Something hard digs into my back and shoulder blade. Worse yet, Sylus is right on top of me. His size makes this space feel like a broom closet. Our noses are nearly touching, and his breath fans against my face. Some of his hair tickles my forehead.

For a split second, I lose myself in his red eyes.

Not a romantic red like a fading sunset.

Red like fresh blood.

And right now, those eyes are filled to the brim with displeasure.

Memories flash of my first few days with him, back when he tried to use those terrible eyes against me. Of the voice in my head begging me to devour him. The way he used his frightening black Evol to move and manipulate my body to his whims.

I struggle to inhale. Claustrophobia assails me.

Panicking, I push my hand against his chest.

"Sylus, move. I can't breathe."

"Ordering me around, are you?" He glances at my hands; his frown intensifies. "Why are your hands shaking?" He seems genuinely bothered by my fear, but I don't have the capacity to process that right now.

I yank on our Linked wrists for emphasis. "I can't move until you do," I tell him.

Still frowning, he accommodates my request. He shifts his body, wrapping his arms around my waist. I gasp when he lifts me up and sets me on top of him so his legs can stretch out and give me room to move. Somehow, I end up in his lap yet again.

"No, Sylus. This isn't--" his hand settles over my mouth. Huge and hot. He presses a finger to his own lips in turn.

"She's coming. Shh..."

Lois calls my name again, and this time she's in the doorway of the bedroom. My palms grow sweaty. There's no way she won't look inside the closet. My hands tremble where they grip Sylus's shirt. He glances down at them again, then at back at me. His fingers force me to look at him.

Being the sole focus of his gaze is an experience I can't put into words. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff faced with a huge red tidal wave. Any moment now, the wave will push me back, and who knows whether I'll fall to my death or find salvation?

Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear, "If you're anxious, just close your eyes."

His hand slips from my face, but his thumb grazes my lower lip in passing. His huge palm presses me forward to rest against his chest.

His heartbeat pulses against my ear, body heat enveloping me like a blanket.

Ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub...

Steady.

Slow.

Just like it had been when he was sleeping.

My trembling slows, breathing evening out.

His free hand reaches out and presses against the door right as Lois approaches the closet.

"Ellara? Are you here?" I hear the rolling of luggage wheels. "Well, no matter. I'll just leave this here for her for when she gets back." She tugs on the closet door. Again and again. I squeeze my eyes shut; it feels like she'll never stop.

"Why isn't this opening? Is it stuck?"

She pulls harder, but she's no match for Sylus's strength. If she wants to open that door, she'll need to tear it off its hinges.

"Gotta call maintenance, I guess," she sighs. Like salvation, her phone rings. She picks it up, engaging whomever it was in conversation and padding back out of the bedroom.

I breathe out raggedly.

Beneath me, Sylus makes a sound of amusement.

"Your mental fortitude is terrible in situations like this," he observes.

"If we're seen--"

"So your reputation matters more to you than your life?" he asks. There's no judgement in his voice, just curiosity. "You were never this afraid when we were faced with a hail of bullets and assailants."

This is different. Completely different. But now is not the time to try to explain it.

Sylus smiles. "If we're discovered, I suppose we should just confess."

"To what, exactly?" I hiss defiantly.

His fingertips snake down the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. My eyes go wide when those same fingers sneak beneath the edge of my shirt and slip inside. In a blink, he's caressing my bare skin. I suck in a breath as my whole body breaks out in goosebumps.

"What are you...doing?"

Without answering, he keeps going. His fingers move up. Higher and higher, until his knuckles graze the underside of my bra. Splayed open, his fingers span almost my entire back.

Our eyes lock, devouring each other much like the Linkages around our wrists.

A single moment hangs between us in time.

And then his fingers slip beneath the barrier between us.

My breath hitches in my throat.

My skin pulses with anticipation.

My lips part, my mouth opening on a protest. His crimson eyes sear into me, daring me to speak, daring me to try to stop him. They aren't asking for permission; there's really no need. He already knows what my body wants, and he's prepared to ignore my lips trying to stop him.

Outside, Lois' voice fades away. Keys jingle. The front door to the hotel room slams shut. Silence fills the air, broken only by the humming of the furnace and my labored breaths.

I can't tear my eyes away from Sylus's lips. They're so close now. It would only take a single motion on my part, a single adjustment to my posture to taste them.

With a herculean effort, I keep myself still.

When our eyes meet next, his are hooded and burning. A volcano simmers beneath - boiling lava waiting to erupt.

"So what's it to be, kitten?" he teases. His fingers move a little higher, pressing up against my breast. "Should we continue?"

"Nn..." I could hardly recognize my own voice as a needy mewl rips itself from me. I slip forward, just that much closer. My resolve is breaking, bit by bit. Or maybe mile by mile. My body grows restless, sore, impoverished.

"Your hands are cold as ice, but you feel quite warm here now." He rocks his hips against me, and I close my eyes against a pang of dizziness. Warm fluid floods my panties, my body betraying all my morals.

I whimper when the tips of his fingers nudge against my nipple. A need so deep, raw, and painful slams into my groin that I can't help but throw my head back. His huge hand supports me as I sigh in pleasure, keeping me from falling.

A breath against my chest and then cold air as my shirt is lifted up. Lost in wave upon wave of desire, I gasp when his lips press right between my breasts. He plants a hungry kiss there. Then another, his silvery hair tickling my skin. Hungry, but gentle. So very gentle.

He breathes me in then exhales, and the rolling of his hot wet breath has me gripping him tighter.

Then he stops. Leans back.

In a haze, I glance down to find him smirking, his sharp eyes narrowed and challenging. He tilts up his chin in that arrogant way of his, daring me to protest.

We have to stop. This is madness.

Really, Ellara? Making out with the Sylus in the middle of Hunter symposium in a damn closet?

I need to push him away. Push him away. Push him away.

I wince as the Linkage tightens painfully on my wrist. Bruising. Aching. Punishing me for going against the wishes of my heart.

"Sylus, we can't do this," I whisper. "I'm a Hunter, and you're..."

"I'm what?"

"You're the leader of Onychinus..."

"Is that all I am?" he asks, placing another kiss on my shoulder. "Does that title define me?" Another feathery kiss. "Are you just a Hunter? Or are you not Ellara as well?"

"Of c-course I am," I gasp. "B-But...we...this is..."

"Alright, then," he says, his expression still amused. He pulls back, and it feel like someone reached in and ripped out a part of me.

"If that's what you want."

It isn't, and he knows it well.

Anger floods me. How dare he play with me like this? How dare he act like he could stop now when we've already clearly crossed a line? When I need him this much? Furious, I grab the collar of his shirt. Why am I always the one being toyed with? Am I just another amusement to stave off boredom?

I want to shout at him.

I want to wipe the smirk off his beautiful face.

But, more than that, I deeply, desperately need to kiss him.

And so, that's exactly what I do.

I pull him towards me, molding my mouth to his.

He's shocked. His whole body tenses. But, I'm over it. Over all of this. No more stops. No more hesitation. I'm pretty sure I will spontaneously combust if I don't get a taste of him immediately. With a lustful moan, I run my tongue against his lips. He immediately grants me entry, and my mind goes blank as we vie for dominance.

His mouth is smooth and molten hot.

His saliva is slick and sweet.

He tastes like peppermint and heaven.

He tastes like home.

I'd spent so many cold and hollow nights imagining what a perfect kiss might be. Secretly, I thought nothing in reality could measure up.

What an idiot I was...

Without breaking away from me, his fingers move again. I can't hold back a ragged moan as he plays with my nipple and rocks me against him. Gentle, yet insistent. Rhythmic. Constant. His touch builds like a crescendo; my blood surges and sings, breasts seeming to swell as bliss shoots from my chest to my fingers and toes.

I try to move back, nearly overstimulated, but he holds me still. His mouth absorbs my wanton moans as he unhooks the back of my bra with his free hand. At last, we come up for air. I curve into him like an eager she-cat when he palms both of my breasts and presses his mouth to them. My hands bury into his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp.

Worried that I'm hurting him, I hesitate. He nips at my neck, making me squeal.

"I'm not afraid of your claws," he purrs against me. "Do what you want. I won't break."

A pressure grows and hardens against my core, assuring me that despite Sylus' outward composure, he's just as affected as I am. I cry out when he pinches me, nearly cumming at the sound of his deep voice humming a note of approval. He licks his way up my neck.

"All this just from my tongue and lips on you? Looks like my little kitten is pent up."

I let him have that victory. He's not wrong, after all.

I'm climbing to the pinnacle so fast that I'm dizzy, but I've plateaued. My hips begin moving on their own, my body seeking him, searching for pressure - any pressure - to ease the agony between my legs. He knows what I need, but he denies me, choosing to focus on just touches, kisses, caresses. His hands and mouth drive me to delirium until all I can do is hang onto his hair and his shoulders and beg.

"Sylus..." I rasp.

He smiles against my breasts.

"Sylus- ah!"

I almost want to cry when one of his hands glides down my thigh and stops just short of touching my center.

"...need you...need this..." I bump against his growing erection.

"Are you sure?" he breathes, nipping at my ear. "You want me to do you right here?"

"Nnn...yes...yes..."

I shudder when his finger passes over my apex, his touch dulled by layers of clothes. I try to lift myself up, but I'm clumsy, uncoordinated, weak with want. It's cramped in here, and there's no room for either of us to move much. Frantic, I buck my hips and whine. When I reach for the door, Sylus grips my hand and brings it to his lips.

"Patience, sweetie," he coos, kissing my knuckles. "I'll take care of you."

He settles his hands on my hips and lifts me up. The buckle of his pants clinks as he undoes it. Next, he reaches up and tears a hole in my leggings. I'm too far gone for any kind of outrage at my lost garment, especially when his pulsating cock brushes up against my bare skin. I'm so drenched that I slip and slide against him.

His hiss of pleasure thrills me.

I can feel every inch of him as he moves. He's huge, and for a moment I feel a flash of trepidation. Then it passes, and all I can think about is how badly I need him to ruin me right now.

"Sylus..."

His hands squeeze my ass, spreading me wide. "I know, kitten. Breathe."

With that, he slips into me. He's gentle. Slow. Careful. But, I'm still overwhelmed. My thoughts white out. All worries, hesitations, moral tugs of war. Everything dissipates into the breathtaking sensation of him filling me. There's some pain, but its a passing thing. Not worthy of note, not when he pulls me down into a kiss and fills me with his tongue as well. My nails tattoo my ecstasy into his shoulders, my insides squeezing him so tight as I climax that he has to break our kiss so he doesn't bite down on my tongue.

I wiggle on him, wanting him to move, needing to know what it feels like for him to scramble me up inside.

"Easy," he warns. "Are you alright?"

"No," I confess, drinking in the blood of his crimson gaze like a ravenous beast. But I can't find the right words to describe my need. "More," I plead. "Just...more..."

"Reckless as ever," he chuckles, but he's out of breath too.

I watch the Adam's apple move on his gorgeous neck as he swallows. I move my hips again, urging him to take me, break me, whatever he wants. His hands tighten their grip on my hips. I dearly hope he leaves bruises. I don't want to forget this moment for days. Weeks. Not ever. It's so perfect. He's so perfect.

With a snap, the Linkage around our wrists shatters.

Sylus doesn't give it a second glance. The moment we're free, he moves my body around.

"Relax," he breathes into my ear and kisses it. "Turn this way." Without pulling out of me, he shifts us around so my back faces him. I rest my hands against the opposite wall, whimpering when he spreads my legs open and positions me on my knees. He hulks over me, one big hand holding my waist while the other rests beside mine on the wall.

He starts to move, and I can no longer stop myself from making obscene sounds of bliss. Every thrust threatens to split me in half, the friction making me dig my nails into the wall. His cock hits me so deep inside that I swear I'll shatter into a million pieces. But, the pain is indescribably wonderful, and as my body adjusts to take in his size and girth, only pleasure remains.

"Ah...mmn...ah...Sylus...Sylus!"

"That's it," he huffs right into my ear, licking every nook and crevice. "Scream for me." His fingers slip from my waist to torment my clit. I shatter on the rocks, losing track of what's happening. He pounds into me until I feel him start to swell even more.

"Mmn...ah...yes!...please...please...inside me...give me all of you..."

His rumbling chuckle throws me over another edge as he explodes into me. He's breathing hard, his heart pounding against my back. His hips keep moving as white hot cum leaks down my thighs. He nuzzles into the crook between my neck and shoulder. Kissing my skin. Grazing his teeth on it.

We float in a haze, surrounded by our breaths and heartbeats. He doesn't pull out of me for some time, and I try to process what just happened. I'm joined with him in the most intimate way, and I've never felt anything more natural.

His sensual lips rain kisses on my back, his hand stroking my belly, my chest, my arm - helping me come down from the most incredible high of my life.

"Sylus..." I whisper, my arms shaking. "I can't move."

"I have you," he soothes, pressing a kiss to my temple. I gasp when he pulls back. The sound of his belt clicking as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

"I'm going to move us now. Trust me, alright?"

I nod weakly.

The world tilts and spins. Vibrations of Evol pulsate through me. I remember this feeling, though the last time it flowed through my body it was like an aggressive snake. This time, it's warm and reassuring. Sylus's arms wrap around me. I smell that delicious aftershave again. Or maybe it's something else. Maybe this is just his smell.

Just as his kiss tastes of home, his scent smells of safety and security.

Wrapped up in his embrace, nothing can hurt me.

The closet disappears, and before I can make a single sound, Sylus is standing in the middle of the bedroom with me in his arms. He pulls the sheets and blanket off the bed and wraps them around me.

"Two more jumps," he smiles, and my heart flutters at the softness of his gaze. No longer like blood. More like a deep ruby wine. "I'm on the top floor."

Again, my surroundings spin and whirl like a hurricane. Colors blur together. It's disorienting, but I'm not afraid, trusting that the one holding me won't let me fall. When it all settles, we are no longer in my hotel room. Instead, we're standing in some kind of penthouse suite. I blink as I look around.

"Is this your room?"

"Did you want to stay downstairs?" He raises a brow at me.

I shake my head. "No. I guess I'm just wondering why we didn't come here sooner."

"And miss out on nearly getting caught?" he teases.

Again, I give him this one. Despite how terrifying it was when Lois nearly found us, the aftermath was...well...

I can't really be mad at him, and I'm too tired to try.

"Your hands are still like ice," he frowns. "Let's get warmed up." He pads to the bathroom as I poke his chest.

"You're not cold at all, though."

The master bath is a sight to behold. White marble with contrasting black and gold swirls. Frosted glass etched with patterns of rare flowers accents the rich colorations around it. The shower alone is larger than the walk-in closet in my apartment. Taken aback, I'm still marveling at the decor as Sylus sets me down on a nearby loveseat.

He starts when I wince and make a sound of pain. I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt. Immediately, he's kneeling in front of me, his hand cupping my face. Those deep ruby eyes take me in, searching for the source of my discomfort. My heart races to be the focus of those slanted sharp eyes.

"Was I too rough?" he asks.

My hand covers his. "I'm alright. It's just...been a while." I smile at him and stroke his hair. As he closes his eyes in pleasure at my touch, I'm completely at my wit's end. There's no logic or reason that can stop the tenderness running through me now. There's no reason I can think of to push this man away any longer.

This man.

Not the Sylus of Onychinus.

Not the king of N109.

Just a man.

An incredible, wonderful, and mysterious man.

"A hot bath will help me feel better," I tell him.

He glances at the tub, stopping my heart with his special half smile. "I think we'll both fit in this one."

I pull him down for a long slow and thorough kiss. "Then, what are we waiting for?"

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylusposting #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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something-tofightfor · 5 months ago

Text

Liminality: Part 10

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,702

Rating: We'll go with a soft NSFW; there's smut but it's not explicit.

** This chapter also contains the 'body horror' portion of the blanket warning, as there is explicit talk of Frankie's monthly transformation **

Summary: It's time. The night of the next full moon means tagging along with Frankie - and Will - when they head to the camper.

Despite only knowing each other for a short period of time, Frankie's willing to show you the most dangerous part of himself and you're more than ready to let him.

But there are other things hiding in the Green Swamp ... and they're much more dangerous than he is.

Author’s note:

This is the chapter that I've been waiting to get to for a REALLY LONG TIME. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. (This would have been posted HOURS ago, but my power has been out all afternoon even though it's SUNNY OUT.

Please feel free to come and talk in my DMs about it if you want. I'm always here.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

Frankie was restless in the days leading up to the next full moon, and there was no hiding it.

He wasn’t rude or mean, and he didn’t distance himself from you - but he did treat you just a little differently. And you didn’t mind at all.

You especially didn’t mind when, on the night before he was set to change, he nearly dragged you down the hallway and into his bed and spent what felt like an hour between your thighs. He made you come twice with his mouth, Frankie’s moans mingling with yours and sending vibrations through your body that followed the waves of pleasure.

But when you pushed him away, protesting that it was too much, he went willingly. Frankie’s head popped up and his eyes were bright, the evidence of your arousal glistening on his lips. “You alright?” His voice was husky, the man pausing long enough to take a deep breath and flick his tongue out to get a final taste. “You sounded like you -”

“I am.” You shivered, nodding. “Come up here, Francisco.” He did as you asked, though he didn’t immediately lay next to you. Instead, he kissed his way up the center of your body, turning his head to suck one nipple briefly into his mouth before releasing it and pressing his lips to the base of your throat. “Is this how you always are this time of the month?”

“I don’t know.” He took a breath and then lifted his head, meeting your eyes. “I’ve never been with anyone the night before. Never … trusted myself.” Your heart broke for him, but in the same moment, you understood exactly what he was saying. This means he trusts himself with me when he’s this vulnerable, too. It’s not just tomorrow. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Cupping your hand against his cheek, you shook your head slowly. “You’re just … more enthusiastic than usual. Couple more minutes of that and I wouldn’t have made it through you actually fucking me.” His lips quirked up briefly, but he kept quiet, still watching you. “And I really want to be able to enjoy that for as long as possible.”

You could feel him pressing against your leg.

Even though you knew how much going down on you turned Frankie on, it was still a point of pride for you to have evidence of it. Because he’s got so much else on his mind right now, too. Urging him to close the distance with the curl of your fingers beneath his chin, you met Frankie’s lips with your own.

It was him that broke away first, Frankie’s teeth closing around your lower lip as he pulled back - and quiet words following moments later. “You could have told me to stop.”

“I didn’t want you to.” Laughing, you dragged your fingers through the curls at the base of his skull while he settled in next to you. “I just need a couple minutes right now to breathe, and then I’ll be good to go.” He murmured in agreement, one of his arms wrapping around your midsection, but you and Frankie stayed quiet otherwise, both of you breathing heavily.

He and Will were picking you up the following afternoon. The three of you were going to head straight to the RV, making sure that Frankie had plenty of time to get settled in before the sun set. He wanted to be the one to show you the routine, and you were on board with it. Because if I’m going to do it again, I need to know exactly how to help him.

“Can I tell you something?” He kissed the top of your shoulder, pausing to give you a chance to reply.

“Of course.” Turning toward him, you moved your hand so that it rested against his bicep. The new position allowed him to trail his fingertips over your lower back, the motion soothing. “What’s going on?”

“I’m worried about tomorrow.” Worried? Why? “It’s … I had them record me changing once, because I wanted to see it from someone else’s perspective, and it’s …” He winced. “I’m worried that you’ll be disgusted by -”

“If you don’t want me to watch you shift, that’s fine. It’s up to you what you show me.” You spoke quietly, keeping your voice even. “But it’s not going to change anything, Frankie.” Leaning in, you kissed him, letting your lips linger against his for long seconds. “Me being in your life isn’t only about being around for the best parts… and I’m not just talking about your wolf.”

You meant it - you needed Frankie to know that you didn’t expect him to sugarcoat things for you, no matter how terrible they were. But only if he wants to include me. “Thought I had to put a ring on someone’s finger for them to be around for better or worse.” He’s joking, but … shit. That is what I just offered to do. He paused, saying your name and waiting until you pulled back enough that you could meet his eyes - and see that he was actually amused - to continue. “There’s a lot of bad shit. Shit I haven’t told you or showed you or -”

“We’ll get there.” You squeezed his arm, nodding without looking away. “We’ve only known each other a little while, there’s still plenty of time. This just … circumstances forced a few things a little early, and now we’ve got to deal with them.”

“Sure as fuck did.” He grinned, some of the tension breaking. But it was only a momentary reprieve, because the worry settled back in his features a few seconds later. “I really don’t want to scare you away, and this might. You can tell me it’ll be fine all you want, but until -”

“Until I see it for myself, neither of us are going to know what’s going to happen.” You nodded, chewing on your lower lip. “Frankie, I don’t want this to be more stressful for you than it already is. That wouldn’t be helpful at all.”

“I keep thinking about the fact that tonight might be the last night I get this with you.” He closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. “And I don’t want … that would be fucking awful.” You didn’t reply right away, instead letting his words sink in.

He wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t truly think that there was a possibility that he’d lose you. And the thought of losing you wouldn’t have been so terrifying to him if he didn’t feel strongly for you. Shit.

“It won’t be.” You brought your hand up, running your knuckles over the stubble on his cheek. “At least not by my choice, ‘Fish.” You were certain of that - of the fact that whatever he showed you the following night, it wouldn’t change the way you felt about him, at least not in the ways he was concerned with. “You’re asking me to trust you tomorrow, right?” He nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Then you need to trust me, too.”

Your hand slid back, fingers curling around the back of his neck before you urged him closer. Please trust me. “I do.” He nodded and then kissed you, exhaling through his nose without pulling away. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need an apology, Frankie.” You spoke against his lips, taking the lower one between your teeth at the end of your sentence and tugging. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He sighed, the hand on your back sliding down to your hip and squeezing. “But…” You traced over the curve of his lip with the tip of your tongue, the ends of your fingers delving into the hair that curled against the nape of his neck. “I do need you to fuck me right now.”

You weren’t usually so blunt with him, because you didn’t need to be. But he needs a distraction. And he needs to know that I want him. “That’s what you want?” You nodded, humming as his mouth returned to yours, Frankie pushing you backwards and then letting some of his body weight rest on you. “Good.” He rocked his hips forward, grinding against your thigh. “Me too.”

Frankie swallowed your reply in a deep kiss, and for the next few minutes, you let your mind wander. You knew that sex as a distraction wasn’t the best call - but rationalized it as necessary in that case when he finally pushed up and away from you, reaching for the bedside table and the condoms there. The following day was going to be stressful, and the more relaxed both of you were when the sun set and he changed, the better.

You did come a third time that night - but it happened almost 30 minutes later - Frankie’s orgasm triggering your body’s response, which was no less intense than it had been earlier. And instead of pulling out immediately, he held you close for a long time after, his face pressed to your neck.

It was almost impossible to tell because of your ragged breathing, but you could have sworn you heard - and felt - him speaking against your skin, Frankie’s hold on you secure. You didn’t want to put him on the spot, so you didn’t question him about if he’d spoken - or what he might have said.

And instead of continuing your earlier conversation, you and Frankie simply climbed back into bed after cleaning yourselves up, his arms wound tightly around you from behind. It was you that said goodnight first, sleep already creeping up on you thanks to how exhausted your body was. He spoke his reply directly into your ear, the arm around your body tightening - though his voice was low.

He fell asleep before you, the worry gone and his body relaxing as soon as his breathing evened out. You weren’t far behind him, but you took the time to link your fingers together against your stomach, his curling against yours, even though he was already snoring softly. Nothing is going to change. It can’t.

You fell asleep holding his hand and with the comforting feeling of his body pressed against you from behind … and neither of you moved until morning.

—

Will and Frankie showed up to get you early, but you were already packed and ready to go by the time the SUV pulled into your driveway.

After putting your overnight bag into the trunk with both of theirs, you climbed into the back seat, taking a deep breath. “Hey, guys.” Will said hello in return without looking at you, already backing out of the driveway, but Frankie turned to look into the backseat, his eyes bright beneath the brim of his hat. “Francisco.”

You could tell he was nervous; you could see how rigidly he was holding himself. At your tone of voice, he relaxed marginally, lips twitching upward into a small smile. “Hey.” He paused and you reached forward, squeezing his arm. There’s no reason for you to be so nervous. “You ready?”

“I am. I brought snacks, because -”

“We’re going to stop before we get to the RV.” Will looked back at you in the rearview mirror, arching a brow. “Couple fast food places right off the freeway. And there’s stuff in the camper, too.” Frankie reached up and covered your hand with his, but then turned to face forward, settling back and against the seat. “It’s about an hour drive, so you should get comfortable. ‘Fish always picks the music, so sorry ‘bout that in advance.”

That got a laugh out of you and a groan from Frankie, but it also lightened the mood, which seemed necessary. “I also brought headphones.” You cleared your throat, settling back against the seat. “Just in case.”

Will’s laugh filled the interior of the car, but it was drowned out when Frankie spun the volume dial on the radio - and then started to sing along. Maybe this is going to be OK.

—

After you got to the RV, the three of you sat inside with the door open, eating. It was a little before 6, which meant that you had just over an hour before Frankie needed to start getting ready.

As the minutes passed, you noticed the change in mood, though you and Will kept up a steady stream of conversation and Frankie tried to do the same. Will seemed anxious, while Frankie’s nerves became more and more apparent, the man repeatedly removing his hat so that he could drag his fingers through his unruly curls over and over.

It was difficult to watch - and you made a mental note to ask Will later if that behavior was normal, or if Frankie was acting differently because you were there. Either way, it didn’t matter, because as soon as you were done eating, Will stood up, wiping his hands against he front of his pants and clearing his throat.

“I’m going to head up into the trees.” He looked between you and Frankie, taking and releasing a deep breath. “I’ll be down as soon as you head out, ‘Fish. Don’t forget the t-”

“The tracker. I know.” He nodded once, his tone sharp. “I’m good, Ironhead.”

“I’ll be watching at sundown, but not before.” Will said your name, waiting until you’d shifted your attention to him to continue. “I will not let anything happen to you.” Do you really need to say this? It’s just going to - “Frankie made me promise to say that to you while he was still here. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but -”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Frankie straightened up, reaching out to take your hand. “Not with you.” There was nothing else to say, and so you just nodded, the two of you waiting until Will gathered his things and headed out the RV’s door, closing it behind him. And then when it was quiet, you watched Frankie carefully, waiting.

You wanted to let him explain things in his own time, and in the way he wanted to - and that meant not leading him. Taking the opportunity to look around the small space, you grinned at the sight of the photos that decorated the walls.

“We figured that since this belongs to all of us, it should look the part.” Frankie stepped toward one of the bulletin boards, pointing. “Took this on our first deployment together.” His finger moved down and to the right, jabbing at a shot of the five of them that looked much more recent. “This one was from South America.”

Stepping closer, you took a better look at the picture, which was of them sitting on a patio together, the cheerful lights strung above them illuminating a wooden table that was littered with cans and bottles, but keeping the background in shadows. “Before everything?”

“Before Lorea, yeah. That was the night we agreed to help Pope.” Frankie sighed, lowering his arm. “Was pretty much the last good night we had before everything went to shit.”

“At least you didn’t come home empty handed after everything you guys went through.” He laughed, but the sound was bitter, Frankie backing away from the photos and turning to unlock a crate that was sitting on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, the money’s a nice little consolation prize.” He bent down, pulling a folded blanket and a notebook out. “Especially now that I have to deal with this every month.” He reached back in, pausing before he withdrew his hand. “I know you brought your gun, but I’m going to need you to carry this one tonight.”

He turned back to face you, holding out a revolver and a holster, his expression serious. “Why?”

“Because you need to have something that’s got silver bullets in it, and if you used your gun, you’d have to explain why you’ve got them in there already.” You hadn’t even thought of that, but it made total sense. That would have been a mistake on my end. “They still carry when they’re with me. Ironhead’s got a gun of his own up there. This one’s a backup, but he’ll be looking to make sure I gave it to you.”

“Of course.” You took it from him, undoing your belt and sliding the holster onto it. “Anything else?”

“The notebook’s to keep track of the time the change starts, and when I come back.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Ironhead’s focused on numbers, so leave that to him tonight. I don’t know what the fuck they do while I’m out there, but I’m sure he’ll fill you in.” You nodded, swallowing before you took a step closer to Frankie. “The blanket’s because I get naked before. I didn’t the first couple times and I ruined my goddamn clothes, so now I just …” He shrugged. “Take ‘em all off.”

“Do I bring it back in once you’re gone?”

“No. Whoever’s out here usually just moves it underneath the awning on the side of the RV so that I have a little privacy when I come back. If it’s rainin’, yeah. Bring it inside and then set it out again right before sunrise, but otherwise …” He shrugged again. “C’mon, let me show you the rest of it. We’re running out of time.”

For the next thirty minutes, Frankie showed you the rest of the inside of the RV, carefully explaining the measures that they’d taken to protect themselves - and him. He showed you the tracking device and the app they used to monitor it, the map of the area that he tended to frequent - a peaceful place that was about fifteen miles south of the camper near a small creek that gave him plenty of space to run.

As the time ticked down, you could see - and feel Frankie’s demeanor change. Not only did his words come out faster, but you saw the way his body moved - fingers flexing more often, his wrist twisting back and forth by his side as he explained things to you.

You stayed close, though, listening to him and asking questions. You made it a point to touch him, even briefly, every so often just so that he knew you weren’t going to shy away. I wouldn’t. Ever. A little after 7, he stopped abruptly, straightening up and turning to look at you. “I need to go outside.”

“Of course. Do you need me to leave while you get undressed?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” That got a smile out of him - and a laugh out of you, but as you stood back and leaned against the edge of the dining room table, you stopped laughing. He methodically removed his clothes - starting with his shoes and socks and then moving to his shirt, the man taking everything off and tossing it into the chest that he’d pulled things from previously. “Keeps my scent hidden. Seems like a good idea with this other wolf running around.”

You agreed, murmuring the words back to him. “You said your senses are heightened now, right?”

“They are.” He nodded, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, slowly sliding them down and over his hips. “Soon as I go outside it’s going to … I don’t know how to explain it. Explode, maybe?” Frankie looked back over his shoulder at you, smirking. “You smell amazing right now, by the way.” That took you by surprise, as did Frankie’s wink before he faced forward again and then stepped out of his jeans, bending down to scoop them off the floor.

You couldn’t help the way your teeth clamped down on your lower lip when he straightened up, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the waistband of his underwear - the only thing he had on. Your reaction to the sight of his body was instinctual and because he’d just admitted that everything was heightened, you knew he’d sensed it, too.

Frankie gave you a much longer than necessary glimpse of his bare ass before he leaned forward and picked the blanket up, wrapping it around his shoulders. “When we go outside, we’re gonna go and stand in the middle of the clearing. Will’s going to be able to see everything, so…” He spun to face you, and for the first time, you saw true worry in his eyes. “I’m going to say goodbye to you in here, if that’s alright.”

“More than alright.” Closing the distance between you, you reached for Frankie, taking his face between your palms. “It’s going to be fine.” He nodded but didn’t say anything before you kissed him, moving in as close as you possibly could with him holding the blanket closed around himself.

You knew you had very little time - and when Frankie stepped forward, backing you up and against the closed door, you realized just how little.

He’d never kissed you quite like he did then.

What started out with you in the lead quickly shifted to something more, his mouth hungry against yours, Frankie’s hips rolling forward and keeping you pinned against the wood. You felt him growl into your mouth - the sound needy as his tongue stroked yours, and you moved a hand into his hair, yanking his head to the side as you let out a moan that only made him inch even closer.

The desire was bleeding from his body.

Frankie was trembling against you, and you had no idea how he managed to keep his hands off of you and firmly holding the blanket. But it’s a good thing he did because him touching me now is … He broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away, Frankie lowered his head and nosed along your cheek and then your jaw before dropping his head so that he could nuzzle against your neck. “What are you -”

“The way you smell right now is fucking …” He groaned, and you felt him press an openmouthed kiss to your pulse point. “Nothing like it.” Dragging your fingers through his hair as he took a deep breath, you closed your eyes and inhaled too, trying to see if there was anything different that you could sense.

He still smelled like Frankie - faint cologne and clean sweat, a hint of laundry detergent from the blanket - and even though you knew what was going to happen in only a few minutes time, you still didn’t feel any differently about him.

The motion of his hips stopped as you felt his chest expand with a few deep inhales, followed by Frankie pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck before he nipped at it with his teeth and straightened up. “Couldn’t help it.” He raised a brow, meeting your eyes. “At least this time I can blame the wolf.”

“We should go outside.” Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you tilted your head to the right. “I don’t want you to cut it too close.” You saw uncertainty in his eyes for a few seconds but then he nodded, closing them and stepping back.

You moved away from the door and then pulled it open, walking down the few steps that led to the forest floor. He followed, but was silent - and didn’t break that silence until you were about ten yards from the RV.

“Flip the snap on that holster.” He swallowed, shifting back and forth on his feet without looking away. “But don’t put your hand on the butt. I don’t … know how I’ll react to that.” You nodded, wetting your lips. “I’m not going to get mad if you look away. This is all new for you.”

“You’re going to let me see?” Your eyes widened. “Frankie, I thought -”

“I am.” He rolled his neck out before he tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. “I need you to know everything.” He winced and shuddered, his eyes shut. It’s happening. “Step back.” His voice was lower than usual, and when Frankie opened his eyes, you saw that they were lighter, his pupils wide. “And if it even seems like I’m going to -”

“You won’t. But I know.” You tapped the gun, smiling at him. “It’s alright, Frankie.” He wrinkled his nose, and you watched as the blanket twisted in his hands as he tightened his grip. “I’m right here.”

The clearing was silent, and though it should have bothered you to know that Will likely had a gun pointed at the two of you, you were entirely focused on Frankie. You wondered what the beginning of his change would look like - if it would start slowly or happen all at once, resulting in the man in front of you disappearing as he became something else. I’m going to find out. I -

“Don’t…” He groaned, stomping one foot and gritting his teeth. “Don’t run. Turn away if you need to, but please don’t do anything that might make me chase you.” Oh, Frankie. You knew it was dangerous, but you didn’t even try to stop yourself from taking the few steps forward that were necessary to put yourself directly in front of him. “What the fuck are you -”

“Stop worrying about me.” Placing your hand flat on his chest - palm over his frantically beating heart - you stared directly into his eyes, which were already more gold than brown. “Focus on what you need to focus on, Francisco.” He went still, but then nodded, his gaze flicking down to your mouth and then back up. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Leaning closer, you kissed him on the cheek and then backed off, knowing that you were already pressing your luck.

“You might not say that in a few minutes.” I doubt it. He dropped the blanket suddenly, exposing his entire body to you - and for the first time since you’d met Frankie, you looked at him with something other than want.

There was no real way for you to describe what was happening except to say that it looked like everything was stretching. The bones in his arms and legs were elongated, as were the ones in his hands, which forced his fingers to curl inward toward his palms. Even Frankie’s chest seemed to expand, and you watched in disbelief as the shape of his body changed, breath catching in your throat at the sight in front of you. He’s got to be in so much pain.

Frankie stayed quiet, though, and when you looked up and met his eyes again it was you that made the first sound. A gasp tumbled from your lips before you brought a hand up to cover your mouth at the sight of his face. If not for the tangle of curls on his head and the lingering furrow between his brows, you wouldn’t have even known it was him, because it wasn’t a man’s face you were looking at - it was that of a wolf.

He bared his teeth as he fell forward and his hands hit the ground, but the only noise you heard was the grunt of the impact. You had no idea how he stayed silent. No matter what he’d said, the process of changing had to be painful, and you were almost certain that he’d lied to you about the way it felt in order to spare your feelings. “Oh, Frankie.”

It slipped out before you could stop it, but he didn’t even acknowledge your words, and though you assumed he’d heard you - his human ears had become the pointed ones of a wolf - you had no way of knowing for certain.

He dug in with his hands, leaving a few gouges in the earth, but when you watched his shoulderblades shifting beneath his skin for the final few seconds before dark fur sprouted from his body, you finally looked away, needing a second to compose yourself.

You were crying; you felt the tears tracking hot down your cheeks, but it wasn’t because you were afraid of him. Instead, you were angry for him, upset that every 30 days, he had to relive the transformation twice in the span of twelve hours. Nothing could prepare me for that. Not a goddamn thing.

A whining noise drew your attention again, and when you turned your head back toward Frankie, you gasped a second time, lowering your hand.

The man you knew was gone - and in his place was the largest wolf you’d ever seen, sitting on his haunches and staring at you with its head tilted to the side. “Hey, Francisco.” Reaching up with one hand, you wiped away your tears and gave him a smile. “Look at you.”

You took a few seconds to do just that, your heart thudding in your chest at the sight of a werewolf, not even ten feet from you, after years of searching. He was much bigger than you’d imagined; the top of his head reaching almost to the center of your chest, and his shoulders were broad, mirroring the man in human form.

He pawed at the ground, and you watched as he scented the air, never looking away from you. You wanted to move closer, but didn’t want to spook Frankie, so you cleared your throat and took a breath, giving him a smile. “Can you understand me?” He nodded and then blinked twice, but he stayed put. Fucking weird. “Will you come closer?” Wetting your lips, you laughed, the sound nervous. “Only if you want to. I -”

He moved as you spoke, rising and then slowly trotting forward, but stopping before he was close enough for you to touch. Even in the slowly darkening twilight, you could see that his wolf mimicked the way Frankie looked as a man, and you wondered if that was the case for all of them.

Shaggy fur in a deep chestnut threaded with gray covered his entire body, but his face was lighter, especially on his cheeks and snout. With a genuine laugh you leaned closer, biting your lip at the sight of his cheek. He tilted his head to the side, staring at you, and it was easy to read his curiosity.

“The patches in your beard.” Reaching up, you tapped your own face. “You’ve still got them.” For whatever reason, seeing that was what tipped you over the edge and put you truly at ease. Because he’s still Frankie. “Even as a wolf, I’d know that handsome face anywhere.” He whined again, ducking his head, and when he looked up, you could have sworn he was smiling. Good. Good, he can see… I’m not afraid. “That looked like it hurt, Frankie. But thank you for letting me watch.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stared at the wolf in front of you, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.

You didn’t know how he’d react to that - had no idea if anyone had ever touched him in that form, or if he even wanted anyone to. Why wouldn’t he? You felt oddly calm, even though your heartbeat was still elevated, and as you eyed Frankie, you realized that Ashley and Alec hadn’t been lying about the size of wolves. He’s huge. And if the other one is this big, too… I’d stand no chance, especially if he was attacking me from up close.

“Am… am I allowed to touch you?” Gritting your teeth, you swiped at your face with one hand. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question, I just -” But apparently, it wasn’t, because Frankie rose to all fours and took another cautious step toward you, putting himself within arm’s reach. You had no idea what to do, and so you held out one hand toward him, proud to see that it was almost completely steady.

He moved his head, turning toward your outstretched hand to sniff it, and then you moved on autopilot, stepping forward and lifting your hand so that you could slide it between his ears, fingers curling into the fur there. It’s not as soft as it usually is. You still grinned at the feel of it, your other hand moving to the side of his neck and stroking downward.

“You’re gorgeous, Francisco.” Humming as he stepped forward again, nudging your hip, you kept going. “And you’re fucking huge, and if I didn’t know it was you, I’d be …” You sighed, stroking his fur. “You’re intimidating, even when you’re just sitting there. Thank you for not scaring the fuck out of me.” He nudged you again, rubbing the side of his face against your hip, and then without warning, he broke away from your touch and circled around your legs, head lowered. “You still don’t like compliments, even when you’re like this, hmm?”

His head shot up and you somehow knew that if he were human, he’d have rolled his eyes. But when he took a seat in front of you again, you took a deep breath and crouched down, bringing yourself closer to his eye level.

The two of you stared at each other for long seconds, and the longer you looked, the more of Frankie you saw in front of you. The wolf sat proudly, though his head was tilted to the side as he eyed you.There was warmth in his gaze, along with a sense of calm that you hadn’t expected with how nervous he’d been only minutes earlier.

He’d given you permission to touch him, and so you did, reaching out and stroking the fur along the side of his face and then down his neck, following the motion of your hand with your eyes. He repositioned his paws, inching marginally closer, and at that your smile widened, a barely there nod of your head accompanying it. His fur lightened as it got closer to the ends of his legs, and you were surprised to see what looked like a black smudge atop the left paw. He must have had that one when he was bitten. “Frankie, have you ever…” You touched it, looking up. “Your tattoo, it’s….”

He lowered his head further, and when you felt the press of his wet nose against the back of your hand you finally moved it away, letting him see. The noise he made in response was almost startled, which made you laugh, and forced you into a sitting position, giving you a chance to look up at him.

He straightened up again and stared at you, blinking slowly, and then Frankie extended a paw and rested it on your knee, the movement cautious. You reached for it, lifting it slowly, and when you pushed gently on his toes, you saw the true size of his claws, as well as noticed the fact that his paw itself was massive, and much larger than your palm. You wondered if he was considered small for a wolf, and then wondered if Ashley would allow you to see any of her pack during a full moon so you could compare.

“Frankie, the fact that you’re like this with me now …” You met his eyes again, taking and holding a deep breath. “This is incredible. You’re incredible.” He ducked his head again but it didn’t last long, because he drew his paw from your hold and then moved forward, lowering his head and sniffing at your bare arm. You felt it moments later - the warmth and wet of his tongue as he licked the back of your hand. “Oh. Oh, ok…”

You moved then, raising both arms and putting them around his neck, turning your head so that you could bury your face in his fur. If you hadn’t been certain before, that moment made it clear that you loved him, wolf and all. How could someone not love him?

Frankie let the weight of his head rest on your shoulder, and you head him whining, the sound loud - followed by the press of his paw against your other leg. He’s trying to hug me back. Oh, Frankie.

He pulled away first, but didn’t go far, and even though you stayed mostly still when he started, your eyes widened as you felt him nosing at your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Shit. He’s…

Frankie licked your neck twice, and then rubbed his face against it, whining loudly as he backed off. But that time, he took a playful stance, his tail wagging back and forth and his ears swiveling as he watched you, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re in a good mood now?” He nodded again, agreeing, and when you pushed to your feet, he stretched, front paws out and that half of his body lowered while the back end remained upright, tail still moving from side to side. “You need to go, don’t you.” He set his paws and then shook his body, yipping out a reply to you at the end of the movement. “Then go, Frankie. Run. Have a good night.” Stepping forward, you reached down and found the metal chain around his neck, trailing your fingers over it until you found the tracking device. “I’ll keep an eye on you. We’ll keep an eye on you, alright?”

He barked then, turning his head to the right and then looking up, and you knew it was looking for Will, even though he likely couldn’t see him. He barked twice more - the sound carrying, and then Frankie backed away further, putting distance between you.

Part of you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him to stay in the clearing with you all night. But you knew that he had to, that he needed to run and stretch his legs and let the wolf’s instincts take over for the few hours that it could. And it would be selfish of me to ask him not to do that.

“Be safe.” You said his name, crossing your arms. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” He whined, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, though he stayed in place. What is he waiting for? You watched him closely, Frankie turning his head to look up, and even though you weren’t sure, you spoke again. “Go ahead. It’s not going to scare me. Let me hear you.”

Your permission had been what he was waiting for, and only moments later, Frankie sat and tipped his head back, letting out the loudest, longest howl you’d ever heard in your life. It didn’t scare you, because you knew it was him, but the sound was chilling, and somehow different from the regular wolf calls you’d heard previously. And it’s different than last month’s, too. It sounds … fuller.

He howled a second time, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he held his position, nose pointed toward the sky and his broad shoulders set. It was an incredible thing to see - and it would have still been incredible even if it wasn’t Frankie that you were watching. But the fact that it is him… it’s more special.

The howl trailed off, and Frankie rose to all fours again, turning away and toward the woods to the south. At the edge of the clearing, he stopped and looked back, pausing long enough to howl again - that one long and low, almost sad.

And then he was gone, disappearing through the trees and into the gathering darkness.

You waited a solid minute and then deflated, dropping to your knees and covering your face with both hands. You were overwhelmed - there was no way around it, and since you knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to hear it, you started crying again, shoulders shaking.

It had gone much better than you’d imagined it would. Frankie had seemed at ease with you in way that you’d never expected, and despite your tears, you weren’t scared or upset at what you’d seen. It made you sad, of course, but you were convinced even more than you had been earlier that you had nothing to fear from Frankie, even when he was a wolf.

It was still almost a slap in the face to have learned just how large werewolves were, and exactly what your relatives had expected you to face in order to complete your revenge quest. Frankie’s gentle behavior was, as the guys had said, somewhat misleading, because the others wouldn’t be like that, especially around someone that they didn’t know. And the Chaos wolves are especially dangerous for someone that’s accustomed to a wolf they know.

Reaching up, you rubbed at the side of your neck and then reached out with your other hand to touch the spots in the ground that he’d disturbed, fingers trailing over the claw marks and then coming to rest in one of his pawprints. A wolf the size of Frankie could easily overpower an adult human. A wolf the size of Frankie without the self restraint of a former Army Special Forces helicopter pilot could do it before the other person even knew what was happening. “Fuck.”

You hung your head, shaking it back and forth. Yes, you had a better idea of what you’d be up against when finding a Chaos wolf, but it made the odds seem so much more stacked against you. “You alright?”

You shot to your feet at the sound of the voice, your hand automatically going for the gun on your hip as you whirled around. Will stood a few feet away, both hands held up with his palms out and a smirk on his face. Jesus. “You scared the fuck out of me, Will.” Your heart was racing, fingers frozen just above the butt of the gun.

“So let me get this straight.” He lowered his hands and then crossed his arms. “‘Fish turns into a goddamn wolf right in front of you and you’re fine. Two minutes after it happens, you’re petting him … and I’m human an’ ask if you’re doin’ alright, and you go to pull a gun out on me?”

“I…” Wrinkling your nose, you winced. “Yeah, that’s kind of fucked, isn’t it.” Both of you laughed then, and you rubbed at your face before you said anything else. “I don’t even know what to say. That was … that happens every time?”

“Every time.” He stepped past you and reached down, picking the blanket up. “He’s quiet now, though. First few times, he screamed.”

“He said it didn’t hurt, that it was just uncomfortable.”

“He’s a fucking liar.” He folded the blanket with precision, and then moved back toward the RV, motioning for you to follow him. “His goddamn bones grow and move. His face changes shape. I didn’t go to college and study the fuckin’ supernatural, but … the way he screamed at the beginning? I can guarantee it hurt. And it might be something he’s more used to now, but …”

“Yeah.” It made you feel worse, but you couldn’t fault Frankie for lying to you. “So what now? He won’t be back until morning, right?”

“Right.” Will stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “So now it’s a whole lot of sitting and waiting. We’ve got internet and TV inside. I can take you up and show you the view from the blind. We can stay out here… it’s up to you.”

“We should probably go inside.” You rubbed at your neck again, nodding. “That way you can show me what -”

“Look.” He stepped forward, laying a hand on your shoulder. “The hardest part is over. The rest is just waiting for him to come back.” Will’s smile was small but genuine, his blue eyes bright in the single overhead bulb beneath the awning. “We’ll check his location a couple times, and update the guys once just to let them know everything’s good, but aside from that?” He tightened his fingers against your arm and then let go. “It’s just a typical night.” Unless something goes wrong.

It was unspoken, but it hung between you. Everything’s going to be fine. Closing your eyes, you let yourself listen to the forest around you - the faint sound of bugs and the breeze, along with the hooting of a far-off owl reassuring you. Alright, Will. “Got any beer in that fridge?”

He surprised you with a laugh, but only moments later, Will was gesturing for you to head inside in front of him. “Sure fuckin’ do.”

—

Both of you dozed off a little before midnight, the TV playing some action movie from Netflix in the background.

You woke up a few hours later, Will snoring quietly on the couch next to you, and when you stood, he didn’t move. He must have had a long day. You covered him with a blanket and then headed over for the laptop that had Frankie’s tracker displayed on the screen.

He was still far south of where you were. For a minute or two, you watched the motion of the dot that signified his position as it moved East along the bank of the creek, wondering what he was doing and what he was feeling.

By the information that was also on the screen, you saw that there were still hours until sunrise - and when Frankie would return. The thought of laying back down - that time on the bed instead of the couch - wasn’t appealing, and so you decided to go outside and enjoy the darkness for a little while. It’ll relax me. The sounds and the smell, and …

Slipping your shoes back on, you grabbed the gun - but not the holster - from where you’d set it earlier and headed for the door. “Where you goin’?” Peering back at Will, you saw that he’d opened his eyes, one hand rubbing the sleep from them. “It’s -”

“Just outside for a few minutes.” Tightening your hand on the door handle, you smiled. “Need to stretch my legs, and I didn’t want to risk waking you up.”

“Take the gun.” He cleared his throat. “Just in case.” You held it up so that you could see it, and when Will nodded, you went through the door, closing it softly behind you.

You looked around, eyeing the circle of light that was provided from the ones strung above you and then sank down onto one of the chairs near the firepit. Moments later, you set the weapon down on the ground beside you. You couldn’t see much of the sky through the trees, but the moon was bright, and it was only when you stifled a yawn with one hand that you looked away, humming as you rubbed your eyes.

You and Will had gone over a lot while you sipped your beers, but the thing you took away from his companionship was that the nights spent waiting for Frankie were usually very uneventful - and that being there with someone was a welcome change of pace.

He filled in the logbook and then let you flip through the previous entries. While you clicked around through Frankie’s previous location records, he stepped outside to call his wife. They had a routine, and the fact that you were one of six - seven if you counted Yovanna - people that were included in it wasn’t lost on you.

You’d also skirted the topic of just how close you and Frankie were. And based on Will’s posture and facial expressions, you had an idea that he was well aware of exactly how serious it was between you. That was fine with you - he was one of Frankie’s closest friends, and since Pope was also aware of where things stood, you figured that the others weren’t far behind because even though they didn’t know you well, they did know him.

It scared you more than a little that things were moving so quickly, but you didn’t regret letting it happen that way. “Not with you, Frankie.” With a sigh, you pulled your phone out and opened your photo album, swiping through and finding one of the pictures of the two of you. You were both grinning at the camera, Frankie’s arm around your shoulders, and one of your hands holding onto his, fingers linked.

You didn’t know what you were going to say to him when he came back and was human again, and you hoped that whatever you did manage to get out, he believed. Because I’m sure he’s still worried, even though he saw that I really wasn’t afraid of him. Sighing, you flipped back to the actual camera and then swiped to take a video, reversing the view before you pressed record.

“Hey, you.” Staring at the screen, you thought for a few seconds. “It’s been a while since you left, but I just … I know you might not believe me when we talk next, and I wanted to tell you a couple things that I’ve been thinking about all night.” You stood and took a few steps further away from the RV, trying to be mindful of the fact that Will was likely sleeping, and the window above the couch was partially open. “I wasn’t crying earlier because I was scared. I wasn’t crying because I was … disgusted by what I saw.”

You stopped moving, looking off to the side and then back at the phone. “I was crying because I’m upset that you’ve had to deal with this alone. I’m upset that you have to downplay how much it hurts to become the wolf every month. I’m just … I couldn’t do it, Frankie. Before I saw you tonight, I had no idea. Everything I thought was wrong.”

You meant the transformation, but you also meant that you’d been wrong about werewolves in general. “I hope you’ll believe me when we talk, you know? I don’t want you to second guess this or me or the way I feel about you.” Because I don’t.

You went quiet, staring at the small screen, and with the absence of your voice, you realized that the woods around you were silent, too. You didn’t hear insects, and the owl from earlier was quiet. But we’re deep in the woods. There’s always noise. You looked away from the phone and then back at it, your hold on the device tightening. Unless there’s a predator close by.

It could have been anything - a panther, a bear, a bobcat - but the same instincts that led you to Florida told you that it was something else… and that it was watching you. And it’s close, because it wouldn’t be quiet otherwise. You had the RV between you and the forest on one side, and thanks to the phone’s camera, you could sort of see what was happening behind you. But I want to turn around. I want the RV at my back, and …

“It’s important that you know this, Frankie.” Your voice shook and you winced at the sound, your eyes moving over the phone screen as you peered into the darkness displayed on it. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Because I …” You trailed off at the sight of a pair of glowing eyes flashing on it from somewhere behind you, but they blinked out moments later. Whatever it is is big. “Frankie there’s something behind me.” You whispered the confession, fighting back tears. “The gun’s by the chair, I don’t have it on me and … fuck. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t him - you could sense that it wasn’t him, and the eyes - though you’d only seen them briefly - were a different color than Frankie’s. And even though it was all the way across the clearing and in the woods, you knew that you wouldn’t have time to get from where you stood to your gun before it made it to you - especially if it was as big as or bigger than he was.

You had one play - and likely only moments to attempt it. “If this goes bad, Frankie … at least you’ll know what it looks like.” You flipped the camera and then spun so that the RV was behind you and you were facing the darkness… and then you opened your mouth and screamed.

“Will!”

—

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washy0uaway · 1 year ago

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Kiss City Pt. 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Chapter Summary: Frankie comes to your rescue, obvs. Series Summary: You weren't expecting to sleep through your alarms the morning of a massive work presentation. You also weren't expecting to get rear-ended on your drive into the office. You definitely weren't planning on spilling your coffee all over your new blouse. But the thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie. A/N: Thank you for the love on Part 1, seriously!!! I’ve been slammed with work but am hoping to have more free time the coming weeks, no set post schedule at the moment. Warnings: eventual 18+ / MDNI!!! car crash, fainting, blood. Series Masterlist | Part 1 Here!

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You don’t know it, but Frankie’s at your side in an instant. It takes a baseball style slide on concrete, but the quickly bleeding scrape up his forearm and onto his elbow is the least of his worries. His large palm cradled the back of your head just before it hit the concrete - cutting it so close his knuckles are scraped now, too.

You’re not knocked out for long, but it feels like an eternity as Frankie goes into a mindset that he hasn’t found himself in for over a year. Void of emotion, he’s in military mode. He’s checked your pulse and breathing, calling your name when your eyes begin to flutter open.

Your eyes lock, and the concern paints wrinkles on his forehead.

“You never told me if your kid was okay,” you finally speak just above a whisper.

“…what?” The look of concern now changing to confusion.

“You said you were reaching for your phone - something about your kid’s daycare.”

“I -…. my daughter, she’s fine. But Jesus, that’s what you’re worried about right now?”

Though you’re still not completely lucid, you can’t help but somehow be hyper aware of Frankie’s hands are holding you. His right still wrapped around the base of your neck, fingers splaying in your hair. His left hand first grabbed your hip, and has since wrapped around the small of your waist, propping you upwards as you start to come to. His grip is strong (like nothing in the world could make him drop you), yet you still feel delicate in his grasp.

Still locked eyes and Frankie’s heavy breathing are interrupted by the two rent-a-cop’s stationed in your downtown office building. After having picked up on the commotion on the sidewalk, they rushed out and recognized you immediately.

“She hit her head this morning. Must’ve been pretty hard, cause she just passed out for a moment,” Frankie explains to the guards, his glance only leaving you for a second to acknowledge them.

“If these fine gentleman have a seat and water ready for you, and I carry you, think we can get you inside?” His asks, eyes now locked on you.

“You don’t need to carry me, Frankie. I can walk.”

The hand on your waist moves to wrap under your knees and he’s scooped you up bridal style before you can protest further.

Your arms are naturally reaching around his neck when he leans his head down. Gaze now trained on the guards opening the door for him (and you), he says something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe I want to.”

The moment is fleeting as he sets you down in a lobby chair, crouching before reaching to the guard behind him who hands him a bottle of water. That gaze. Those eyes. Back on you.

He unscrews the cap of the water before handing it to you, instructing you to take small sips. You think you’d do anything he says, as long as he’s using that voice - low and calming.

“Do you know what day of the week it is? Where you are? Who I am? Who the president is?”

The questions baffle you for a moment, before you realize why hes asking. You answer each question correctly and he sighs.

“Good, okay, just had to make sure I hadn’t really knocked a screw loose this morning.”

You see the eyes of the guards behind him widen and chuckle, bringing Frankie more relief. “He didn’t hit me,” you begin to explain. “We’ll, he did. But with his car. Wait, no..” your voice trails off while Frankie is now the one chuckling. “It was an accident. I hit her car, with mine, and she hit her head in the process.”

As you’re setting your water down on the side table, he’s reaching for his back pocket, pulling your phone out. “You left it in my truck. Good thing too, or maybe I wouldn’t have been there to catch you.”

Shy again, you mumble a “thank you, by the way,” glancing at your fidgeting fingers in your lap. He places one hand on your two, his large enough to fill in the grasp of both your hands. His skin is tough but warm. “Don’t mention it,” he glances up from beneath his cap, now kneeling in front of you. His free hand has illuminated the flashlight on your phone and he explains he wants to make sure your pupils are dilating properly.

“Don’t look at the light. Look right at me.”

Please, as if you needed an excuse. The world melts away and for a moment, it’s just you and Frankie.

“You really should get checked out,” he pleads, his voice instantly bringing you back to reality. You’re still holding onto his hand as he turns off the flashlight and lowers your phone as it joins the bottle on the table.

“Haven’t you done that? Checked me out?” The words leave your mouth before you can even register the implied double meaning.

Frankie grins - the most genuine you’ve seen all day, and you swear he blushes.

“I mean, yeah I guess I have,” and there’s no doubt, he is definitely blushing, hand still in yours. “But I mean medically. By a professional. It’s my fault, I’ll foot the bill.”

“That seemed pretty professional to me. Where’d you learn all that stuff?”

“Military,” he shrugs, offering no further details. Wringing the back of his neck again, definitely something he does when he’s anxious, your thoughts confirm.

“Oh my god, Frankie you’re BLEEDING!” The realization when you see blood dripping down his arm has you fully snapped back to reality.

“Oh that? I’m fine, just a scratch. You gonna be okay here for a few if I go track down a first aid kit and clean up a bit?” He’s almost annoyingly calm about the situation, not caring in the slightest.

“There should be one at the front desk, I can help you-“

“Not a chance,” he interrupts. “I’ll be back in 5.”

Frankie’s been in the bathroom for a few minutes when your coworker Liz and boss David step out of the elevator.

“Oh my god are you okay?!” Liz rushes up to you, “They called us from the desk and said you’d passed out. How did you get to the office? How are you feeling? Was it the fucking asshole that hit your car?! This is his fault!”

Impeccable timing, Frankie has. Appearing over Liz’s shoulder and lifting his hat to run his fingers through his hair. His right forearm is now sporting a gauze bandage.

“That would be me. I’m the fucking asshole, and yes, it is my fault.”

Her mouth is open and ready to unleash her protective wrath, but the words don’t come when she turns to look at him. And sees how he’s looking at you - like schoolboy with a crush.

“Liz, this is Frankie. Yes, he hit my car. But he also got it to a shop, brought me to work, and kept me from splitting my head open on the sidewalk. Oh my god, I forgot your iced tea - I had just stopped at Starbucks and-“

“Girl, what?!” She exclaims. “You’re thinking about my Starbucks order? You should be thinking about seeing a doctor, babe. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Told you,” Frankie chimes in from behind her.

“Really, I’m fine. I promise.”

David, your boss, finally joins the conversation when he tells you that if you aren’t going to be seen by a doctor, you should at least take the rest of the day off - tomorrow, too he insists.

“Fine.” You concede with a sigh. You really probably needed a few days off, having been working too much lately. “It could be good to rest.”

“Woah, hey, actually…you might not want to rest too hard,” Frankie intervenes, and everyone turns to look at him.

“He’s right,” Liz agrees. “You’re not supposed to sleep too much if you’re concussed.”

As if on cue, the exhaustion hits you, “Well, that’s too bad because I feel like I could use a nap.”

“You can sleep for a bit, but someone should be there to keep an eye on you. Check on you every few hours,” Frankie explains.

“Can you have someone come over? Dave and I will be tied up here holding down the fort in your absence.” Liz is worried, but you’re grateful for your coworkers, even when she continues. “Maybe Zach would?”

“No!” You blurt out as soon as she suggests your ex, “Not Zach.”

Frankie doesn’t know the person in question, but in that moment he would do anything if it meant you didn’t have to ask Zach.

“I can do it,” Frankie offers, and Liz’s side eye glance at you is not lost on him.

“I mean, I know you don’t really know me, but the paperwork I had planned this afternoon can wait.”

The room falls silent for a second before he begins to regret offering. “Im not a creep, promise. Here,” after drawing his wallet from his back pocket he pulls out a few copies of his business card, handing one to you and one to Liz. “That’s my card, she can take a picture of my license, I’ll give her my number” he motions to Liz, and continues to ramble on before you stop him.

“Frankie, I know you’re not a creep. But really, I can’t just ask you to clear your day like that.” Internally though, you wanted nothing more than to get to know the man standing in front of you.

Francisco Morales according to his business card. “Helicopter Flight Instructor & Aviation Safety Inspector.” Could this man get any hotter?

“Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor getting me out of office work. Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

“He’s right, you know. That sounds like a great idea, Frankie!” Liz’s tone is suggestive, and you know just what she’s playing at.

“Okay,” you turn to Frankie, “but only if you promise to let me pay for takeout for dinner.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” You practically melt at the term of endearment paired with that genuine grin creeping across his face again. Then there’s his hands in his back pockets, chest stretching his tshirt tighter? Shit, Liz practically melts too.

“Well, we’ll leave y’all to it,” David catches on and begins to drag Liz back to the elevator. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, we’ve got you covered!” He’d successfully whirled your chatty coworker straight out of the conversation as the guards retreated back to their station, leaving you and Frankie alone in the lobby.

“Shall we?” He asks, standing in front of you with his hand extended to help you out of the chair. He doesn’t let it go as you’re walking toward the door though, and your heart races.

“So,” he asks, looking down at you, “what am I ordering for dinner?

#frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader

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