#beer garden furniture

[uniqueartisanconnoisseur]

Annie & I Take Altamont!

The first time I saw the small town of Altamont, Illinois was this past June at the John Deere G reunion. I was taken with the lovely mansion I saw there. We also loved the fun antique shop the hubby and I stopped at. I saw that they were having a music and wine fair at the Charles Wright House Museum. I thought perfect! A trip for Annie! About once a month or so, my friend Annie Jansen and I…

[holylulusworld]

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear

Summary: He doesn’t want to have company.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, spanking, orgasm denial, possessive Ari, a hint of dark/grey Ari?

Rating: Explicit

Square filled for @julybreakbingo: Square filled: "Park"

Square filled for @eclipsingbingo: Held down

This story is part of my Lumberjack Tales masterlist

Solitude. No people. No stress. No noises. That’s how he likes it, and he wouldn’t want to change it for anything.

He chose this life. After selling his company for more money than he could ever spend, Ari bought a forest to build a huge, luxurious cabin for himself alone. He’s got everything he needs. And what he doesn’t get, he can make with his strong hands.

Some people may call him crazy. A former CEO and successful businessman turning into a lumberjack building his furniture on free terms. Ari doesn’t care. He gives a shit on other people’s opinion.

Today is one of the rare days he must drive to the only town near his private forest. Ari hates leaving his solitude and meeting people. After a bad divorce, he’s not the most social person.

But – a man gotta eat even if he’s got a beautiful garden behind his cabin and a lake filled with fish. He needs more to fill his pantry. Beer, toilet paper, and batteries do not grow on trees.

“Mr. Levinson,” Susie, the clerk from the grocery store chirps when Ari walks toward the checkout. “Is that all?” She glances at the two shopping carts filled with everything he’ll need over the next weeks. Maybe even a month, or two. “Plastic or paper?”

“Paper,” he grumbles under his breath. “Plastic is bad for the environment.” Ari shakes his head at his words. Years ago, he would’ve given a shit on the environment or nature. He was obsessed with making money, a pretty woman, and fast cars.

“Sure,” she gives him a tight smile but says nothing. “Just a minute.” She snaps her fingers at the new bag boy. “Sean, get over here. We have a customer.”

Ari would like to roll his eyes as the boy groans loudly. He was on his phone, undoubtedly making a TikTok video to share with his two followers instead of doing his job.

“SEAN!” She grunts when he doesn’t move an inch. “If you don’t come here in a second, you are fired.”

“Man, if I made my first million with my video, I’ll quit,” Sean grumbles while reluctantly starting to pack Ari’s groceries into paper bags. “You will see. I’ll get out of this shitty town in no time.”

Ari holds back a comment. He learned that it’s better to shut your mouth and not get involved with the town’s folk. Unlike the cheery clerk at the grocery store, most people in this sleepy little town do not like him.

Especially because he stopped them from clearing the forest he bought. “Cash or card?”

“Card,” Ari swipes his card over the device. “Have a good day.”

Before Sean can grab the bags to carry them outside, Ari wraps his arms around the paper bags to carry them out of the store.

“Idiot!” Susie mutters. “You had to piss him off. Now he won’t come back anytime soon.”

Sean harrumphs. “This is the only store in town. Your love interest will be back. This doesn’t mean he wants to take you out…”

Back in his cabin Ari busies himself putting the groceries and toiletries away. Only to make a list for more. Soon it will be winter, and he needs more supplies. Ari hates driving to town during winter. He tries to leave his cabin less during the cold times.

His dog lies on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the living room, yawning loudly as his owner tells him they’ll need more wood.

“Come, buddy. We go for one last round for tonight,” Ari clicks his tongue, causing his dog to jump up and follow him toward the door. The Estrela Mountain Dog walks next to Ari as he steps out of the cabin.

Ari closes his eyes and inhales the air deeply. He can already smell the approaching thunderstorm. “We need to hurry, buddy. I know how much you hate getting your fur wet.”

He flashes his dog a smile before buttoning up his red-black checkered plaid. “Let’s go, Bear. We don’t wanna miss dinner.”

“HEY! STOP! This is private property!”

You are already out of breath when the man and his dog chase after you. All you wanted was to go for a swim in the lake. How should you have known that the forest is private property? You camped in forests all your life without getting into trouble.

Now this big guy is chasing after you like a madman. “STOP! You cannot come to my property and steal…”

“Bear. Get them!” The man calls for his dog. The giant beast speeds up to outrun you. It jumps at you. Pushing against your back so you land on the ground, face first in the mud. Rain is pouring down on you, soaking your shorts and shirt. “Good job!”

The dog sits down on your back, making you groan loudly. “Get off me you beast.”

“Hold them down,” the man approaches you and the dog. He crouches down next to you to rip your baseball cap off your head. “What are you doing on my property?"

“I wanted to go for a swim, dude! I camp not far away from the lake. I didn’t know this was private property! Who buys a fucking forest!! That’s just wrong.”

“Dude?” He laughs. “Bear, we caught an angry wood nymph, not an intruder.” The man clicks his tongue, and the beast finally gets off your back. “There are warning signs, lady.”

“I told you,” You struggle to get on your knees, groaning as your back hurts from the dog’s attack, “I didn’t see a sign. I camp wherever I want to.”

“Not on my property,” he snaps at you as he gets back up. “Come on, the thunderstorm will only get worse.” He holds out his hand as you struggle to get back on your feet. The dog got you good. “I’ll show you the way back to the road.”

“Fucker,” you slap his hand away and get back up on your feet without his help. “You can’t let your dog attack people.”

“You are an intruder, and he tried to defend my property.”

“Dude, do I look like a danger to you, your dog, or your property?” You size the man up. He quirks a brow. “That’s what I thought.” While you try to rub the dirt from your knees and shin, the man huffs.

“You walk around my property with your little backpack and believe you get away with it? Lady, this is not a park. You can’t just come here and waltz around my property like you own it.”

“I got it, okay. This is your forest, and you hate people,” you wrinkle your nose as the rain runs down your face. “If you’d excuse me now. I’ll find my way out of your forest and into the next to put up my tent somewhere else.”

“In the middle of a thunderstorm?” He asks. “You’re not only a criminal but crazy too. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Well, good thing that I’m not your problem, Mr. Property,” you turn around to walk opposite the way you came from. “Have a nice life.”

“Lady, that’s crazy,” despite his former behavior, he follows you. “The rain is going to get worse. You’re going to catch a cold or worse.”

“Anything is better than being around you,” you side-eye the man. If he gets too close, you’ll get your pepper spray out and show him what happens when he messes with you.

“Wait…wait up,” he grabs your arm to stop you from running off.

“Don’t touch me,” you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “I’m warning you! I got the black belt!”

He releases you but blocks your path. “I won’t hurt you, lady. My name is Ari, this is Bear.” Ari points at his dog. “He didn’t want to hurt you. If Bear wanted to hurt you, you’d be dog food.”

“You have a way with words, huh?” You look him up and down. “So…where is this street?”

“We can’t walk through the forest now,” he sighs and points toward something in the distance. “If you don’t want to walk through a forest in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms this area ever experienced, you should come with me to my cabin.”

“Right,” you curl your upper lip. “I’ll go with you to your cabin so you can make a filet out of my ass. I won’t go anywhere with you.”

Ari snorts. He starts laughing as you watch him. “I don’t want to eat you, lady,” he grins. “I mean, I love to eat a lady out.” His eyes drop to your soaked shorts, “but only if she begs me.”

You look down at your soaked clothes. Your backpack gets heavier per minute and Ari is right, the rain is mercilessly pouring down on you. “I’ll take a picture and send it to my friend with our position and your name.”

“Be my guest,” Ari poses for you. He grins into the camera when you snap a few pictures to send them to your friend. “What about Bear?”

“Fine,” you snap a few pictures of the dog to send them to your friend too. “If you kill me now, you’ll get hunted down by my friends.”

“I won’t take the risk,” Ari winks at you. “Come on. I want to get out of my wet clothes and have some coffee.”

You begrudgingly follow Ari, hoping he’s not a psycho killer or looking for a basement wife…

“See, I’m not a killer,” Ari hands you another cup of tea. “After the storm calmed, I’ll drive you to town. You shouldn’t camp in the only other forest around here.”

“Why?” you take a sip before looking at him. You cannot deny that he’s not as bad as you believed he was. Ari offered sweatpants and one of his plaids to you. He shared his dinner with you and brewed tea for you.

“Let’s say the men around here a rather…hmm…how do I put it…”

“Assholes?”

“I think that sums it up,” Ari sits on the other side of the couch to give you space. After the first minutes he knew, you’re not a bad person and now he tries to make you see, that he’s not a bad guy either.

“Hmm…crap,” you sigh deeply. “I wanted to do something reckless for once and now, my friend will laugh about me.”

“You never camped before, right?” He watches you drop your gaze. “Why did you lie?”

“My friends bragged about their adventure trips, and I only ever soaked in the sun or visited museums during holidays. I bought a tent and…you know the rest.”

Ari snorts. “You’re the worst camper I ever met.”

“Fair,” you shrug and giggle as his eyes drop to your legs. He subconsciously licks his lips and shifts in his seat. “So…” you scoot a little closer to Ari, “how long are you living here…alone?”

“Hmm…?” He lifts his eyes from your legs to meet your eyes. “A few years.” Ari murmurs. “I left my old life behind to live here, on my own.”

“Must’ve been a good life,” you scoot even closer to look Ari in the eyes. “This is not a normal cabin. It’s rather…luxurious.”

Ari drops his eyes to your lips, licking his own. “I was a businessman before becoming a lumberjack.”

“Lumberjack,” you purr the word. “You mean the big guys wearing plaids and cutting wood.” This time, you lick your lips. “You must be very strong if you cut wood all day.”

“Not all day, sweetness,” Ari scoots a little closer, his thigh brushing yours. “Only if I need wood for my fireplace.”

“Hmm…” you get bold and move your hand to his bicep, squeezing hard. “Very strong.”

“Strong enough to throw you around if you come to my property and try to swim in my lake,” he moves his hand to your thigh, toying with the sweatpants you’re wearing. “I can spank you too, to make sure you’ll never break into anyone’s property again.”

Your eyelashes flutter, and your lips part. “You think I’d let you spank me for breaking into your property?”

His cheeks dimple. Ari dips his head as his hand creeps higher until he can press it flat against your mound. “I think you’d let me do anything I want to do to you.”

“Look at you,” he purrs in your ear. “Such a good girl, kneeling for me. I bet,” Ari circles you to watch you kneel in front of his couch. He pushes against your shoulders, forcing you to bend your upper half over the couch. “Hmm…what a nice ass you have.”

Ari cups the back of your neck to hold you down on the couch. He’s not too rough but makes sure you can feel his strength.

“I’d love to just fuck you, but you’d only cum all over my cock. I need you to feel the consequences of your actions in your bones.” Ari runs his free hand over your ass, humming as you start to whimper. He grips one cheek roughly, testing your reaction. “I’ll use this body to my liking, and you won’t deny me.”

You choke out a moan when the first smack hits your ass. “Yes…”

“Count, little tramp,” his features harden, and he smacks your cheek a little harder this time.

“One.”

“Again,” he slaps your other cheek, making it sting. “Again!”

“Two.”

“How many can you take?” It’s not a question. Ari told you he’ll give you ten, and you’ll take ten with pleasure if you get his glorious cock in return. You’re already soaking wet and cannot deny that the next smack pushes you closer to the edge.

“All you have to give, sir,” you whimper. “Three…”

“Good girl,” he soothingly runs his hand over your stinging cheeks. “Seven more and you’ll get something nice.”

The next smacks come faster and harder. “Four, five, six, seven,” at eight you’re out of breath and cry out in pleasured pain.

“Eight, nine,” he slaps your ass with both hands. “And lastly,” he slams his hand between your legs, hitting your clit. Your legs tremble and you soak his hand with your cum.

“Oh God…” You can’t come down from your unexpected high. Ari grabs you by the back of your neck to push you onto the couch.

You end up underneath him, whimpering as he moves one hand to your crotch to lift your butt to help him sink into you. He pokes your entrance, impatiently pushing the first inches into your weeping hole.

“Fuck, that’s a wet cunt,” he groans in your ear while conquering your cunt with one hard thrust. “Yeah, you’re a good girl.”

Pressed into the furniture by his hard body you can’t do anything but lie there and let him slowly fuck into you. Your juices soak his cock, and his balls with every deep thrust.

Ari is by all means not gentle. He fucks you for punishment, to make sure your body knows you did a bad thing. “Oh, baby. I lied,” he whispers in your ear after a particularly deep thrust. “I’m going to keep you here for my pleasure.” He thrusts three, or four more times, always avoiding hitting your G-spot.

Ari purrs your name and fills your cunt seconds later. “Aw, don’t whine, baby,” he sinks his teeth in your neck to leave another mark on your body. “This was punishment. You’ll cum when I allow you to cum.”

He groans against your neck, teeth grazing over one of the marks he left. Ari is a man possessed. After he filled you for the first time, he took his time to rub cream into your ass. He toyed with you, fingers and tongue bringing you to the edge, only to not let you cum again.

With your hands restrained to the bedpost, you can only watch him move on top of you. Your hands itch to touch him, but you haven’t earned it yet. You’ve been a bad girl, and he won’t allow you to get more than he’s willing to give.

Ari slowly thrusts into you, thick cock rubbing against your walls. “I want you to cum for me. Come on, little tramp, soak my cock. I want to fill this slutty hole up.”

“Please—” you eagerly meet his thrusts. “I need…please…Sir…A-R-I…” You shudder through your high. Your whole body sizes up and for a moment, you fear you died and ended up in heaven. This is the most intense orgasm you ever experienced, and it takes your breath away.

“Good…” Ari thrusts one last time and stills his hips. His warmth fills you again, and you wonder how many times he already fucked you before he let you come. “Good girl. So, fucking good for me.”

He collapses on top of you, exhausted and satisfied. “Fuck…” you breathe out. “Fuck…fuck…that was…”

“Damn, this cunt feels so good. I’m glad you’re a criminal wanting to break into my property. I didn’t have such a good fuck in years…”

“Well…I got two more weeks off so…” you wiggle your hips, making Ari groan. “I could just invade your property for a little longer and you can punish me again.”

Ari lifts his head to look at you underneath him. He smirks, liking your idea. While you look up at him, mirroring his smirk Ari plans to keep you forever…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[sreegs]

since my wife and i bought this place and we're buying Grown Up furniture that's not ikea we ended up getting these nice little nightstands, which are great but i never had a night stand with a drawer so i didnt know what to put in there

the first thing that got put in there was a bottle of muscle relaxers when i pulled my back and was bedridden for a bit. then the lube ended up in there because why wouldnt it. now it contains my weed stash, and when i dug in there i found 3 still-valid drink tickets for a beer garden. it's the fun times drawer.

[cliophilyra]

14 and 19 for the intimacy prompts! xo @hardly-an-escape

Initimacy Prompts

@hardly-an-escape & @bidisasterevankinard chose almost the same ones (14 & 19 and 13 & 14) so I have combined them! Thanks guys for the prompts - sorry it has taken sooo long!

This is a little bit sadder than I planned but I hope it's sweet enough to make up for that.

13 - Cuddles

14 - Sharing drinks

19 - Back scratches

Updated version now on AO3! I would definitely recommend reading that version instead.

Buck smiles softly as he opens the sliding door to their garden and takes in the view. Tommy is sitting in one of the reclining yard chairs Buck convinced him to buy once they’d made the neglected yard into somewhere they might actually want to spend time. Tommy had rolled his eyes at the garden furniture and planters, hummingbird feeders and climbing plants, but he spends more time out there now than Buck does. His eyes are closed and Buck is pretty sure he’s asleep in the fading evening sunshine. There’s a book on his chest and a bottle of beer half-drunk beside him, condensation pooling on the table below it. Buck’s heart feels several sizes too big for his chest.

Part of him doesn’t want to wake his boyfriend but today hurt more than any day for a long time, and he needs him more now than he can resist. He crosses the yard, carefully swinging a leg over Tommy and sitting down in his lap. Tommy starts awake, his hands flying to Buck’s hips as his eyes snap open.

Buck smiles down at him. “Hey baby,” he says softly, leaning down for a kiss.

Tommy kisses him back fondly, “Jesus christ sweetheart,” he laughs, shaking his head.

Buck runs his hands over his chest, feeling his heart thumping under his palms. Alive. “Sorry,” he says softly.

“No you’re not,” Tommy laughs, leaning in for another kiss.

“Mmm,” Buck picks up Tommy’s beer from the table and takes a long pull, giving him a show as he tips his head back. Condensation dripping from the base of the bottle to run down the neck of his shirt.

“I think that’s mine,” Tommy smiles, reaching up to take the bottle back. He takes a mouthful himself before putting it back on the table and pressing his lips to Buck’s throat, chasing the drops of water down to his clavical. Buck hums, shifting in his lap. “Get your own,” Tommy says with a smirk, moving his hands down to grip Buck’s ass in both hands. Buck moans softly against his neck. Half of him very much wants to just follow where this going but the moment he closes his eyes he’s back there. His breath catches and he stills, breathing in the scent of Tommy’s skin as he tries to push the feeling down and fails, shaking in his boyfriends arms.

Tommy’s hands still immediately and he reaches for his shoulders, pushing him back gently. “Sweetheart?” he says and the concern in his voice is all it takes to bring the whole terrible, horrible, not good day welling up in Buck’s chest. His lips flatten into a line as he tries to hold back the tears.

“Oh sweetheart, what happened?”

“It—it--it was, fuck--,” Buck swallows hard. “There was a woman...she was with her kids...in a car.” He leans forward again, resting against Tommy’s chest, closing his eyes as he listens to his heart beating steadily under him. He feels Tommy nod in understanding.

“She didn’t make it?”

Buck shakes his head, feeling the tears start, damp spreading through Tommy’s shirt under him. He can still hear the cries of the kid, the inhuman wailing as he and Eddie dragged him from the mangled wreckage, away from his mother’s body. He gasps, choking on a sob as Tommy’s arms wrap around him, drawing him closer. He presses his face into his chest, twisting as if he could merge himself into Tommy, make himself a home inside him.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he knows enough to know there’s nothing he can say. Instead his fingers trail up and down Buck’s back, blunt nails scratching gently over his shirt, soothing and slow.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 18 Neighbour AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 18, word count 991

Remus Lupin had one asset, and that was his parent’s house. It was in the middle of the Welsh countryside. It was a mile walk to the little village, and the only thing it had going for it was the barn. It was light and airy and smelled of wood. 

Remus had spent a lot of time and effort converting it into a liveable space. The idea had been to sell it, but no one was interested in living so far away from the major cities. So, under the advice of his estate agent, he rented it out for short holidays. 

So far, it had been quite lucrative. With the money he made from that and his own job, he could afford chocolate whenever he wanted. 

The holiday season was coming, and he already had two weeks booked out. He tended to get a lot of city dwellers looking to get away from it all or families trying to get back to their roots. 

He checked his emails one morning with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. HE filtered out the junk and found an inquiry email in his barn folder. He opened it.

A man was looking to hire the barn for the full summer and all of September as well. He was looking at three months of solid booking. It was a shame he couldn’t offer it, having already booked those two weeks. And he refused to let down his other guests. He typed a reply stating as much. He got a reply back almost instantly, asking if there was somewhere he could pitch a small tent. Mr Black said he would gladly still pay full price while his other guests used the barn. Remus couldn’t believe what he was reading. It seemed too good to be true. He sent a couple of pictures of his personal garden. The views weren’t as good, but it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind, and he could use Remus’s garden furniture. Again, the reply was quick. The man agreed and said he hoped he wouldn’t be any bother. 

Remus sent an invoice and got Mr Black to confirm he agreed to the price, and with the confirmation, he booked out the three months. He sat back with a pleased look on his face as he finished his crumpets. He just hoped that Mr Black would be a good neighbour as it was a long time to deal with a terrible guest. 

July arrived, and with it, a sleek black motorbike and an equally sleek owner. Sirius, as he demanded to be called, settled in instantly. He played his music a little loudly, but as it was to Remus’s taste, he decided to enjoy it. 

Remus found he quite enjoyed Sirius’s company, and they spent nearly every night in Remus’s garden drinking beers. Remus had even started making enough dinner for Sirius, though Sirius had told him he didn’t expect it but did appreciate it as he was useless at cooking.

It turned out that Sirius needed a break from his high-pressure job, which was why he’d come to Remus’s. 

“I hate it. It’s been my life since my mother found out she was pregnant with me. They own the company now, but my brother and I run it. He’s so much better at it than I am, and I swear he’d have such an easier time at it if I quit.” Sirius had admitted to him one August afternoon.

“Then why don’t you quit?” Remus asked as though it were an obvious solution. 

“Everything I own is tied up in the company. If I leave, I lose everything.” He shrugged. “My parents made sure it was that way after I went through a rebellious streak in my teenage years.”

“That’s terrible, Sirius. I wish I could help.” And Remus found he meant it. 

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll muddle through.” Sirius beamed at him as he patted Remus’s leg. “Right, enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m off for a walk. Care to join me?” Remus couldn’t think of any reason not to, so he took the proffered hand, and they strolled towards the village. 

Remus showed Sirius some of his favourite childhood haunts just off the beaten track, and they spent a wonderful afternoon in the thick foliage. 

Soon, the first week came around when Sirius would have to sleep in his tent. And, of course, the worst storm to hit Wales in over a hundred years decided to arrive that night. 

The trees were whipping back and forth, creaking and groaning. The fence surrounding Remus’s garden swayed dangerously. Remus refused to let Sirius stay out in this. He flung open the back door and yelled into the downpour. 

“Sirius! Sirius!” A face popped out of the zippered entrance of the tent. “Get in here!” Sirius shook his head. 

“I’m all good. Don’t fret.” 

Lightning cut across the sky, lighting the dark ground with its answering thunder not far behind. 

“Sirius, please! I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here!” 

Suddenly, Sirius was streaking across the lawn and ran straight into Remus’s arms, knocking the lanky man back a few steps. Lighting flashed across the sky again and then another and another. The last bolt hit the cherry blossom tree in Remus’s garden, and a huge branch fell off and crushed the tent Sirius had been in moments before. 

“Yeah, probably a good call that Remus,” He joked. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Remus decided, not that he had much choice, that Sirius would be staying in his spare bedroom for the remainder of the two weeks. Maybe longer if the look Sirius was giving him meant what Remus thought it did. That night, they sat, snuggled up together on Remus’s tiny sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping mugs of hot chocolate and listening to the storm wailing around them.  

[nihilizzzm]

The fellowship at the house party

tw: drinking alcohol, smoking weed and nicotine

yeah so i might be hangover again but at least it gives me dope post ideas

(disclaimer that makes it even funnier: every description is based on someone i know and i was drinking with, so yeah, call it my slavic heritage ig)

Frodo: His house, not his idea. It was available. He has a big house far away from the city centre, so loud music won’t kill anyone. He specifically said he’a never doing a big party. It happened anyway. At first he is stressed about everything, trying to save as much furniture as he can. Than he decides that fuck it and drinks some beer. At some point he doesn’t care anymore, goes to sleep. No hangover, in the morning he’s drinking coffee and watching everyone cleaning up the mess.

Merry: Very much not his house, very much his idea. Surprisingly he’s not that drunk, but his goal for the night is to get Pippin drunk as fuuuck. He looks after him tho, as much as it’s possible. He invited most of the people. The best dj, not the only one unfortunately, but definitely the most skilled one. Did spend some time in the smoking circle in the garden. Also no hangover (surprisingly v2), helps cleaning. He has his honour.

Pippin: Came to drink and so he did. No shit talking, first thing he said when he entered was ‘where’s vodka?!’. From the very beginning he knew he is gonna be the drunkest. He was not tho, this spot is reserved for someone else, but he was trying his best. Merry helped him a lot. Also he smoked a lot. Anyway right after midnight he passed out, slept under the table. Hangover in the morning, still he was satisfied with himself.

Sam: He helped Frodo decorate. Came earlier and made sandwiches. Some laughed at this idea but at the end of the night there was not a single one left. Pure soul, he doesn’t rly drink. He had like one and a half beer and that’s it. He was sitting with Frodo for the whole night and put him to sleep. In the morning he helped cleaning but most importantly he was the one telling everyone what they have to do.

Gimli: Challenged Legolas to a drinking competition. We all know how it went down. But before he was the best dancer. Ok, maybe not the best but the most committed one. Also came earlier and helped Sam with making drinks, the fancy kind (with what was available and affordable ofc). He was bitching in the morning but helped with the dishes.

Legolas: Oh boy… First of all danced with Gimli, then they fought, then he won the drinking game with him. They kissed in the process, they are in a weird situationship. After the party they started dating. After Gimli passed out he got even more drunk and got into full diva mood. Suddenly he became best friends with Boromir with who he usually is not that close. He is one of the two people who went to buy more booze in the middle of the night to the nearest petrol station. He was also the one who took the most of the photos, mostly blurry tho. Miraculously not hangover. How? Magic ig. Or maybe bc he’s the one who ate all of the sandwiches. Doesn’t clean in the morning, he sits in the kitchen with a tea and posts photos at his insta and laughs at Gimli and Boromir.

Boromir: Had a shitty week at work and with his father so he knew he’s gonna be drunk. But man- Drunk a lot, smoked a lot (he doesn’t even smoke usually??). Literally the amount of booze in his system would kill Pippin. Talking about Pippin they did drink a lot together before Pippin was out. He’s the other half of people who went to the petrol station. Why? He wanted more alcohol and Legolas said he will pay if Boromir would carry everything. They rly started getting along after certain amount if booze. He fell asleep on the couch. Aragorn gave him a bucket, he didn’t need it but in the morning he started thinking it would be better if he did. He didn’t help cleaning, he wasn’t trusting his legs well enough. He was just sitting on the couch in dark glasses and hoped for his life to get together. But Aragorn was sitting with him so it was nice.

Aragorn: Didn’t drink a lot. Smoked weed tho. He was almost all the time in the smoking garden circle with Gandalf. Than went inside to check on people and when he found out Boromir and Legolas are out of the house he lost any hope for a good ending of this night. He got so stoned that when everything was quieting down he was sitting with drunk af Boromir on the couch and started braiding his hair talking about some metaphysical shit. He also became very open about his feelings, Boromir doesn’t remember. They will work it out eventually. Until morning he was sober and made everyone electrolytes and tea. And gave Boromir the glasses. Helped with cleaning.

Gandalf: He brought weed. Didn’t even get inside, literally just sitting and smoking. In the middle of the night disappeared. In the morning texted if everyone is okay and didn’t stop asking until everyone answered. Said he’s never doing it again and that every single one of the members of the fellowship is a stupid bitch. Checked twice on Pippin. Shouted at Boromir with all capital letters for like 20 minutes. Boromir just muted the chat. He did appear on the next party anyway.

Bonus:

Faramir: Boromir specifically told him not to go, bc he feared the young one will get drunk. He didn’t. Drunk a bit, danced a lot with Eomer and Eowyn. Had fun. Boromir doesn’t know he was there and nobody will ever tell him.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 32**

We are slowly moving towards rock bottom with poor Frankie as he tries to get a handle on his addiction and his own demons.

I'm about to update the warnings for the next chapter. If there's something you're very sure you don't want to read about, please heed them. And if you don't want spoilers, please send me a DM and I'll tell you if you need to worry or not. I am moving towards something very dark and I know it might not be everyone's cup of tea and that's absolutely fine!

Series Master List

Chapter 33- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.9k

Another week passes, and you think maybe Frankie does better although his nightmares are still ever present, he gets moody sometimes and he’s always too tired, but slowly you think, maybe, you see an improvement. At least he stays away from Joel, you know that. He comes with you to the radio office in the morning or goes straight to someone who needs help fixing something, sometimes he goes scavenging for spare parts, or trades for them at the market, but never outside the QZ. When he’s done he comes by the radio, or you meet him and the guys at the bar. Often Tommy joins you, sometimes even Joel. Pope tells you he’s asked Joel if Frankie has tried trading for drugs again and Joel says he hasn’t seen Frankie at all.  

It’s been four weeks since Frankie came clean to you all, and the warm spring air seems light to you, even in the QZ. The ever entrepreneurial manager of the bar, Liz, has somehow managed to turn the grimy backyard into a ‘beer garden’ of sorts and now you’re all out there, sprawled in an assortment of patio furniture around a white plastic picnic table. 

Will keeps glancing at the door, Diana hasn’t turned up yet and even though she’s not late, you know Will is on edge until she gets here, just like you are before Frankie turns up. 

There’s been an increase in Firefly activity and FEDRA is on high alert, meaning random stops and checks in the street were now commonplace. The group you’d first only heard about through the scattering of graffiti throughout the QZ, had started making noise. Suddenly they’d recruited more people, were spreading their demands for a more just rule of the QZ, and almost every alley wall had their ‘slogan’ hastily spray painted across it; 'If you're lost in the dark, look for the light’. 

More than once you’d been approached by them, random women mostly, striking up conversations about FEDRA’s unjust methods and harsh control of the QZ. You knew the guys had also been approached, their reputation as men who knew how to handle themselves and any gun placed in their hands, made them prime targets for Firefly recruiters. So far all attempts had been shut down, getting involved in rebellions was something they’d done back in Delta Force and they were done with that. 

Will’s eyes flick to the door leading out to the backyard again as it swings open, but this time it’s Frankie. He’d gone inside for a round of drinks and he stumbles across the threshold, nearly spilling the tray of glasses he’s holding. 

“Jeez, Fish,” Benny laughs, “How many drinks did you have before I got here?” 

“Only one,” Frankie grumbles, carefully watching his steps as he crosses the yard and sets down the tray on the table. 

“The old man can’t take his alcohol anymore,” Tommy jokes, the two youngest men of the group chuckling together as Frankie rolls his eyes and hands you one of the glasses before sitting down next to you, his hand drifting to your thigh almost by its own accord. 

“You feeling ok?” you ask him in a low voice as Ben and Tommy continue celebrating being the youngest, and he nods, taking a sip of his drink before he gives you a quick smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good, just tired, didn’t sleep great last night again,” he answers and you put your hand on top of his, braiding your fingers between his. 

“It’ll get better, Frankie,” you soothe him, “you’re doing great.” 

Frankie looks at the whiskey swirling around his glass and gives you a weak smile before he takes another sip and looks over at Pope who’s asked Will something. You keep glancing at Frankie when he’s not looking. You know something isn’t right, but you can’t push it, not yet. He’s too tired, too sluggish even though he seems to be doing better. Pope had said it might just be the withdrawal symptoms, and it’s been only two weeks. But you feel blind, you can’t do anything but trust him, if he’s still using, you won’t know until it’s too late. So you scan his face, watch his moves, hoping and praying he’s being honest with you all and that he’s just fighting withdrawal symptoms. 

You lean back, taking a sip of your own drink, when from the street a loud explosion suddenly rocks through the air, making you all rush to your feet and turn towards the entrance to the bar. Shouts can be heard from inside and the sound of breaking glass. 

“Come on,” Pope says, “we need to get out of here!” He runs to the door, Frankie’s hold on your hand tightens and you follow him and next to you, you hear Will curse loudly. 

“Fuck! Diana is on her way here, I’ve got to find her!” He wrenches the door open, everyone inside is on their feet, facing the front door and someone is carefully looking outside. Just as Will crosses the room, heading for it, the door swings open and Diana runs inside, covered in dust, coughing. He’s on her in a split second, carefully cupping her cheeks. 

“Honey, please tell me you’re ok! What happened?” 

Diana coughs again and nods, “I’m ok, I think, the explosion was pretty far down the street, I just got pushed by the blast.”

Will is running his fingers over her head, scanning her body for any injuries, before he pulls her into a hug.

“Thank fucking god,” you hear him mumble. 

“We should get out of here,” Pope says, the bar is emptying now. The other patrons are filtering out through the door, looking down the street before hurrying off. When you’re all out on the street you can hear the rumble of FEDRA trucks approaching and the blaring of their alarms. 

“You guys should come over to our place, it's the closest, gonna be a bitch to get home now,” Frankie says. 

“I’m gonna head over to my girlfriend,” Tommy says, “she’s just a couple of streets over, gonna make sure she’s ok.” He waves a quick goodbye before he takes off, jogging down a side street. 

“C’mon,” Pope starts walking towards your building. You walk fast, getting out of the way of more and more FEDRA soldiers moving in, heavily armed and looking ready to take down anyone they don’t like. You feel relieved when you make it inside, everyone piling into your apartment, it’s bigger than Pope’s. Just as you’re about to step inside, one of your neighbors comes up the stairs. 

“Did you hear the explosion?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yeah, we were at the bar, do you know what happened?” 

“Those damn Fireflies, they blew up a truck! Blew a big hole in the street!” He shakes his head as he starts up the next flight of stairs, “FEDRA’s going to be worse than ever now, mark my words!”

You sink down on the couch in the crowded living room, Frankie sits on the arm rest next to you and you put your arm around his waist, leaning into his side. 

“Fucking Fireflies,” Pope grumbles, “I know they’re trying to make things better but what the fuck do they think blowing up trucks will do?”

“FEDRA will crack down even harder now,” Will says, handing Diana a damp washcloth and helping her clean the dust off her face and clothes. “Have they even been successful in other QZ’s?”

Through the radio, and overhearing people’s messages, you knew the Fireflies have spread over most of the US. From almost every QZ came reports of their activities, usually hiding dissent at how FEDRA ran the QZ’s, it was clear that FEDRA wasn’t doing a good job anywhere. 

“I haven’t heard anything of them having any major success,” you reply, “at most they manage to disrupt things, and from what little people say, FEDRA cracks down hard on everyone, not just the Fireflies.” 

“How does FEDRA respond?” Pope asks and you shake your head, grimacing. 

“Not well…extended curfews, harder punishments, even death penalties, harder controls of medicine and food, checkpoints across the QZ, a couple of places even have public executions, I heard they do hangings in Kansas City.” 

“Great,” Benny sighs, “It’ll be fucking Arlington all over again if they keep this up.” 

“You can’t blame them though,” Eve says, she’s sitting on Benny’s lap, “FEDRA are fucking fascists, the Fireflies want to over throw them and have democratic rule.” 

“Yeah, sure, FEDRA are a bunch of fascists, but when has bombing city streets ever helped?” Benny asks and Eve just shrugs. 

…

The next day FEDRA trucks drive through the QZ, blaring an announcement from loudspeakers in the truck beds. 

“The criminal gang known as The Fireflies is now classified as a terrorist organization. Any citizen found collaborating or participating will be tried and convicted.”

They drive through the QZ all day and before long you feel a headache throbbing behind your eyes as you sit at the radio. There’s less people stopping by today, most are too scared to go out unless they have to. 

“Joy came by with a message for her brother,” Sean says as you share lunch in the office. “She said a FEDRA officer told her they are going to execute anyone found to be a Firefly member.” 

“That’s terrible,” you say, “FEDRA’s trials are a joke already, now they’re going to execute people based on those?” You shake your head and scrape the last of the thin stew up with your arepa.

“They’ve put up checkpoints everywhere,” Sean sighs, “It feels like this is only the beginning.” 

“Not only checkpoints, I was stopped three times in the street by soldiers on my way over here this morning, everyone is a potential terrorist in their eyes now.” . 

Your lunch is suddenly disturbed by a door slamming open down the hall and shouts from the few people waiting for your lunch break to be over. Heavy boots come stomping down the hallway and you throw a worried glance at Sean. The door of the office is only half closed but now it’s thrown wide open, slamming against the shelf behind it with a loud crash. Two FEDRA soldiers step inside, their rifles pointed at the floor thankfully, followed by an office and two more soldiers. 

“On your feet!” the office barks, “Up against the wall!” You’d already flown to your feet when the door slammed open, now the soldiers advance on you both with their guns raised and you back up against the only window in the room. 

“Where are your records of incoming and outgoing messages?” the office asks, his voice rough as he pushes the papers on the radio desk around. 

“We-we don’t keep any records.” Sean stutters, “Sir,” he adds. 

“Why not? What are you hiding?” the officer, his name tag says Ambrose, barks, “All incoming and outgoing messages must be logged.”

“Only civilians use this radio, there is no rule saying we have to keep logs of their messages.” 

“New rule, from now on you have to keep a log of all messages,” the officer sneers, “Check those shelves for contraband, you two, check those boxes.” He directs the soldiers to the shelves and boxes that line the wall and they start rifling through the content. You know they only contain spare parts for the radio, nuts and bolts, a few wires, but the soldiers go through it like they’re expecting to find drugs and weapons, every piece is pulled out and left scattered on the floor. 

“Please, be careful with that, they’re spare parts for the radio,” Sean protests as one of the soldiers knocks over a box of equipment. 

“Shut up old man, or I’ll toss ‘em out the window,” Officer Ambrose snarls, “you’re lucky we’re letting you keep ‘em to start with.”

“They’re parts for this particular amateur radio model,” you interject, “they won’t work with the more powerful army issue radio FEDRA uses.” Frankie had taught you that when he helped Sean find some of the parts in an old AV shop a few blocks away. 

Ambrose looks at you and you see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, “You’re Morales’s wife,” he says, “you and him hang around with the Millers and that other beaner, Garcia.” He looks you up and down, “No wonder you work there then, that’s how they get their information.” You feel your skin run cold, if he’s saying what you think he’s saying, then FEDRA knows about the smuggling. 

“She works here because she’s an excellent radio operator and she knows this machine better than even I do!” Sean protests, “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.” 

“Start keeping those records, old man,” he snarls, still looking at you, “Or we’ll come back and smash the radio and your office to pieces. And just a warning; I catch as much of a whiff of Firefly activity here, you’re both going to the scaffolds.” He barks orders at the soldiers and they step outside, marching behind Ambrose down the hallway. Sean and you are left surveying the mess they’ve left behind, the content of the shelves and boxes scattered across the floor. With a deep sigh you bend down and start putting things back, checking for damage as you go. 

It takes you the rest of the afternoon to tidy the office while Sean handles the people still waiting to receive and send messages. He writes down the messages people send, and the ones received, putting all the scraps of paper in a box. If FEDRA wants to read what people talk about, they’ll have to sort through it themselves. Although Sean does raise the suspicion that maybe FEDRA will try to listen in on what the radio receives or broadcasts, it means you’ll both have to be much more careful in the future. 

You head back home, feeling rattled by the day’s events, together with the checkpoints and being stopped in the street, FEDRA’s presence in the QZ is starting to feel oppressive. You remember how quickly it escalated in Arlington, praying it won’t come to that. 

Frankie hadn’t been past the radio office today, he’d been helping a friend of Sean’s clean out and repair an old open fireplace in exchange for new boots he desperately needed, his old ones falling apart. When you open the door to the apartment you see the new boots neatly placed inside the door and heavy snoring comes from the living room. You look around the corner and smile, Frankie’s on his back on the couch, one arm slung over his head, the other across his chest, mouth agape while he snores, loudly. He’s not usually a heavy snorer but he hasn’t been sleeping well, often waking up tired and groggy. You kneel down next to him and put your hand on his arm, he twitches but keeps snoring, his nose wiggling over his mustache, making you smile. He looks younger and softer than he has in years when he’s sleeping like this, relaxed without nightmares. He must’ve decided to take a nap on the couch after coming home so you leave him sleeping. You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen to start making dinner. 

The arepas are waiting to be fried when there’s a knock on the front door. You hear Frankie stir but he doesn’t wake up and you peek out before you open. Pope’s standing outside, a bag of groceries in his hand. 

“Hey,” he says as you let him in and take the bag from him. “I brought some of the groceries I got with my ration cards, your cooking is better than mine,” he grins as he toes off his unlaced boots. 

“Thanks,” you peer into the bag, spotting some stuff that was definitely not obtainable with ration cards, Pope, Will and Benny had made sure you had more than enough even though Frankie wasn’t smuggling and always seemed to make excuses to fill your pantry. “I’ll cook for you every day if you bring things like this,” you say and pull out a side of pork, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“Frankie’s living the good life I see,” Pope chuckles, spotting him, still stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly now. 

“He’s not sleeping great at night, he must’ve been really tired,” you look over at him and smile, he mumbles and turns on to his side, back to the room. “I should probably wake him up now though, or he won’t sleep tonight.” 

“You get him up then, I’ll put this stuff away,” Pope takes the bag from you and goes to the kitchen while you go over to the couch and kneel down, wrapping your arm around Frankie’s waist and leaning your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Frankie boy, time to wake up,” you whisper, running your hand up and down his side and he mumbles incoherently, still firmly asleep. “Frankie, baby, wake up, or Santi’s gonna eat all your dinner,” you tease, shaking him lightly. He must be really tired, usually he wakes up the second you touch him, now he only mutters and rolls over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

From the kitchen Santi starts rattling plates around; “C’mon, pendejo, despiértate! I’m fucking starving!” he yells and Frankie finally stirs enough to peel his eyes open. 

“Cállate…” he mumbles while he blinks the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey baby, wake up,” you smile, pressing your lips to his scruffy jaw, “you’ve been sleeping for hours I think.” All you get in response is a grumble and you take his hand, pulling him up to sitting. He rubs his hands over his face and blinks a few times again, his eyes are red and he looks pretty out of it still. 

“Are you feeling ok, Frankie? You look pretty terrible.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, giving you a weak smile before he yawns, “I slept like shit last night and I was fucking tired all day but I had to help with that fireplace, got ash fucking everywhere.” 

“Your eyes are really red, did you rinse them?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, but I only had water, I hope it was clean enough.” 

“C’mon, dinner’s served,” Pope calls from the kitchen and you give Frankie a hand up. 

“The other’s aren’t here yet,” you say, “Will and Benny are coming over with Diana and Eve.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” Pope replies, “Will asked me to tell you that FEDRA is putting a new curfew in place, 6 am to 6 pm. It won’t come into effect until tomorrow but they didn’t wanna risk being outside with FEDRA soldiers looking to jump the gun any chance they get.” 

“But that means we won’t be able to have dinner together at all!” You sink down in your chair with a grumble, “Fuck FEDRA.” 

You start serving the stew, Frankie’s got his head in his hands on the table, giving you a tired smile when you place the bowl in front of him. 

“Thanks.” 

“Speaking of FEDRA assholes, an officer came by the radio today with a bunch of soldiers and turned the place upside down, luckily they didn’t break the radio,” you say, serving yourself. You see Frankie’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What did they want?” he asks. 

“Anything, I think,” you reply. “First they asked about logs for in- and outgoing messages, which we don’t keep of course. So they told us we have to from now on and I think they want to see if there’s any mention of the Fireflies from other QZ’s.” 

“And they think you’ll write that down in a log book?” Santi says, shaking his head, “they’re more stupid than I thought…” 

“I always just assumed they were listening in on the radio. That can’t be hard, it’s just regular amateur radio.” 

“You give FEDRA way too much credit, cariño,” Frankie says while dipping his arepa in the stew, “they don’t know shit unless they have someone who actually was a radio operator before the outbreak. And I doubt it.”

“There was something else, more worrying,” you say, “the officer, Ambrose, recognized me as your wife. He made it sound like he knew about the smuggling. When he saw that I worked the radio he said ‘so that’s how they get their information.’ “

“We haven’t used Sean’s radio for setting up trades for years,” Santi frowns, “he couldn’t know about the smuggling through that, he’s hasn’t been in the QZ long enough.” 

“So that means he knows about it some other way, but he doesn’t know how you get the information,” Frankie replies, “but how does he know?” 

“Yeah, that’s worrying,” Santi says, tapping his fingers on the table as he furrows his brows, “I’ll have to talk to Will and Benny, see if we’re missing something. Or someone.”  

The three of you fall silent while you finish dinner, it’s not until you’ve all sunk down onto the couch that Santi speaks again. 

“I’m thinking we should probably be more careful with our runs, go less often, even if FEDRA aren’t getting nosy,” he says, opening the bottle of whiskey he’d brought. “Runs are getting more and more risky, not just getting out without FEDRA noticing, but also getting through the area around the QZ.” 

“More infected?” Frankie asks and Santi nods. 

“Yeah, people who are trying to get to the QZ are getting infected before they get here. And if they can’t, or don’t want to, kill themselves, they just add to the ones already there.” 

“Please Santi, please be careful,” you plead with him, “it was always dangerous, if it’s even more now then maybe it’s best to stop.” 

“Don’t worry, we have some ideas,” he says, smiling at you. “We’ve got a contact with FEDRA who’s willing to make sure certain supply trucks don’t get checked too thoroughly. I need to make sure he’s reliable and then we can start bringing in goods that way.” 

“What’s Joel and Tommy doing?” Frankie asks. 

“Still looking for someone to partner up with, don’t think they’ve found anyone yet though.” Santi replies, “And as far as I know, they’re still going outside pretty regularly.” 

“I guess they have to if they want to meet up with the guy from Concord,” you say, “he’s the one supplying the oxy right?”

“Unless they found someone else, yeah, it’ll be the same guy.” 

Santi stays until he sees Frankie yawn and your eyes starting to droop closed, the day catching up with you both.. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, get some sleep, both of you,” he winks, “no pre-bed activities, you both look like shit.” 

“Thanks Santi, always the charmer,” you mock scowl at him as Frankie yawns again, wide enough to make his jaw pop. 

“Night, hermano, see you tomorrow,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. After Santi’s left he locks up and follows you into the bathroom. 

“I need a shower,” he mutters, his eyes half closed, “should’ve showered when I got home but I was too tired.” 

“I need a shower too,” you say as Frankie begins to peel off his clothes and he gives you a tired smile.

“Please shower with me, hermosa,” he says, holding out his hand as he kicks off his jeans, “No funny business, I promise.” 

“What if I want some funny business?” you smirk at him as you unbutton your own jeans but poor Frankie just shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired, cariño, without the pills the nightmares are kicking my ass,” he says, turning on the water and letting it run warm, “I’m not being a very good husband.” 

“Don’t be silly, Frankie, you’re the best husband I’ve ever had,” you smile, dropping your shirt in the hamper and stepping in after Frankie, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warm water runs over you both and you sigh as it soaks over your tired muscles. Frankie just hums in response, hanging his head and letting the water run over him, until his brain catches up. 

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he says with a snort, turning in your arms and putting his own around you. “You have nothing to compare with,” he smiles down at you as you blink up at him through the water. 

“Am I the best wife you’ve ever had?” you ask with a coy voice that makes Frankie chuckle. 

“Hmm…let me think about it,” he says, stroking his beard while you playfully poke his ribs and he smiles again, “Best wife I’ve ever had, best human I’ve ever known, you’re perfect in every possible way,” he says, bending down and running the tip of his nose along yours, gently nudging your cheek before his lips find yours. You moan into his mouth as he makes you open up for him, his tongue slipping along yours, tasting you and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless. 

“I thought you said no funny business,” you mumble against his lips when you finally break apart. 

“I’m just kissing my wife,” he mumbles back, the heavy weight of his cock making itself known between you. 

“Does your dick know that?” you ask, sliding your hand between the two of you and closing your fingers around the thick length, even with the warm water from the shower, it feels hot in your hand. Frankie groans and you feel his hips jolt, thrusting into your hand as you start stroking him. 

“Let me take care of you, Frankie,” you mumbled, reaching up and pressing your lips against his neck, your tongue slipping over his wet skin. You can feel the rumble of his throat under it as his cock twitches in your hand. “I want to taste you, feel that heavy weight of your cock in my mouth as you come.” You pull back and look up at him, his eyes already closed, his head tilted back, “Say it, Frankie, tell me what you want me to do.” 

“Cariño,” he moans, “please, I want your mouth, suck my cock.” His hips jolt again, he’s holding back from fucking into your tight fist but you can feel him grow increasingly hard under your light grip. You give him a final kiss on his throat before you make him back up against the shower wall, he drops his head back with a dull thud. The harsh bathroom light is on and you take your time as you drop to your knees, admiring his thick and long cock, the shower has made it wet and slick, the head swollen and weeping. Looking up at him, blinking through the shower water, you see that he’s still got his eyes closed, but his breaths are rapid and strained. Still watching him you stick out your tongue and run the tip lightly over the slit. The effect is instant, a strained groan rumbles from him and it makes you smile, you love the sounds you can pull from him when he lets himself focus only on what you do to him, without him trying to make you feel good at the same time. 

The water makes your hand slide easily up and down his shaft while you take the head into your mouth, tasting the salty drops leaking from him as you make sure your tongue licks over every part of, tracing the ridge and veins, circling the head with warm lips. He bucks into you, his heavy groans louder as your hand closes more tightly around what’s not in your mouth, he’s already close, you can feel him swell and twitch in your mouth. Pulling back a little you glance up at him and see him looking down at you, open mouth and glassy eyes. Like always when he concentrates his tongue rests on his bottom lip, the pink tip peeking out. He’s breathing heavily and his hips start to thrust lightly almost of their own accord. Still looking at him you let him slip out of your mouth and lick a wide stripe from the bottom of his cock, all the way up along the underside, your hand gliding  down and gently cupping his balls as your mouth envelops him again, adding pressure, sucking him in between your tight lips. 

“Fuck, bebita, please…” he moans, almost a pained expression on his face, “don’t stop, I need your mouth,” he’s kept his hands by his sides, fist clenched, but now he cups your cheeks, caressing your skin as you take more of him, deeper into your mouth, his blunt head nudging against the back of your throat. His moaning is downright filthy, a panted whine as he squeezes his eyes shut. You increase the pressure, tightening your mouth’s firm grip around his slick cock, letting it slide in and out of your mouth as Frankie’s breathing grows erratic. 

“Don’t stop,” he groans, “so close, fuck, your mouth, hermosa…”

You breathe in and take him as deep as you can, your nose nudging the wet curls at the base of his cock, you can feel him spasming as you swallow around him, heavy on your tongue. Your mouth tightens around him, sucking firmly along the whole shaft and with a sudden, loud groan he comes, his hips bucking his cock into your throat, making you gag as you breathe through your nose. Hot liquid fills your mouth, dripping out on the sides as you suck him through his climax. He’s moaning above you, incoherent strings of Spanish, filth pouring out until his cock begins to soften in your mouth. You let him slip out, gently wrapping your hand around it and cleaning him off. 

“I might pass out,” he mutters, breathing heavily as he tilts his head back, trying to compose himself, “Fuck me, I needed that, cariño.” He opens his eyes as you stand up, placing a soft kiss on his little belly before he can kiss your lips. 

“Best wife I’ve ever had,” he mumbles and you giggle against his mouth.

“I know,” you smirk, “thought I’d remind you.” 

“Thank you for the reminder,” he smiles back. 

…

The next day things in the QZ get worse. As you walk to the radio with Frankie you can hear the new announcement from FEDRA; Going outside the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Entering the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Bringing in illegal contraband is now punishable by death. Collaborating with the Fireflies is now punishable by death. A special military court will be set up to deal with all violations of these rules

There are soldiers everywhere, check points every few blocks and everyone is on edge. Frankie holds on tightly to your hand, both of you keeping your heads down as you hurry through the streets. Life in the QZ was never easy, but now it feels like a police state, much worse than Arlington when it all blew up. Frankie looks worried when he leaves you but he’s got work in a different sector. 

“If I can even get there, so many fucking check points,” he grumbles, looking over his shoulder as another FEDRA truck rumbles past. 

“Be careful, come back if it gets too crazy,” you say, reaching up and giving him a kiss. 

“I’ll see you soon, cariño,” he gives you another quick kiss before leaving. 

He makes his way towards the eastern section, down towards the docks, passing through two check points on the way. It takes time but he’s only a little bit late when he knocks on the usual door. After a minute a window above him opens up and Tess looks down at him, her long auburn hair tied back. Lowering her gun she raises her hand in a wave.

“I’ll be right down.” 

“What happened to Georgie?” Frankie asks as Tess lets him in through the locked front door. 

“He got caught coming back,” she say with a scowl, “fucking idiot took a wrong turn in the tunnel and popped up right in front of a patrol.” 

“They’ve made that punishable by death now,” Frankie says as he follows her into the empty hotel she and Georgie use as a base, “they were announcing it all over the streets when I came over.” 

“Yeah, I heard. He was caught a couple of days ago and is still in lock up as far as I know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they hang him.” Tess sighs as she unlocks a door to her makeshift office, a small room tucked away at the end of the building behind signs reading ‘Entry prohibited - Bio-hazard’. 

“I hope he makes it, he’s not exactly a good friend but I can trust him and he scares the shit out of people.” She holds the door open for Frankie and he steps into the familiar little space.

“I need a favor from you,” she says as she closes the door behind them, “You know Joel Miller.” It’s a statement not a question and Frankie nods, his hand closed around the stack of ration cards he has in his pocket. 

“Since Georgie’s most likely gone, I’m going to need a new partner. Georgie had the connections for bringing in most of what I trade. Some connections I can take over, but most he handled on his own. Can you set up a meeting with him? I know he and his brother have been looking to partner with someone,” Tess opens a small safe, making sure to not show Frankie the combination, and pulls out two small baggies. “You still want oxy and ambien?” 

Frankie nods, “Joel really doesn’t trust anyone, you sure you wanna work with him?” He gives Tess his ration cards and she hands him the baggies before she counts the cards. 

“From what I hear, he might not trust people, but he won’t sell me out to FEDRA,” she replies, sticking the cards in her back pocket. 

“No, he wouldn’t do that, and as long as you know his loyalty is only to himself and Tommy, and you can handle that, he’s good to work with, knows his shit.” 

“How come you don’t work with him anymore?” Tess asks, ushering him out of the door again. 

“My wife doesn’t want me smuggling anymore, I’m all she’s got,” he says, a twinge of guilt eating at him as they walk back through the hotel, “she’s all I’ve got,” he adds. 

If Tess notices his uncomfort, she doesn’t mention it, “Must be nice having someone like that, something like that,” she says, “How long have you been with her?” 

“Since before the outbreak,” Frankie replies, “we’d been dating for a year when it happened.”

“You’re lucky, both of you,” Tess opens the front door again, leaning against the frame after Frankie’s passed through it. “Both of you still alive, together, must be nice,” she says again and there’s something she’s not saying, Frankie recognizes the undertone of grief in her voice, and he nods. 

“Yeah, we’ve been lucky, but we’ve lost people too,” he’s got his hands in his pocket, his fingers closing around the pills in the bags. “If I can introduce you to Joel, what’s in it for me?” he asks and Tess raises her eyebrows. She’s surprised it took him so long to ask. 

“Discounts,” she smirks, motioning with her hand to his pocket. 

Frankie nods and starts leaving, “I’ll talk to Joel, see if he wants to meet with you.” 

“Thanks Frankie,” Tess gives him a wave as he walks away. 

…

It doesn’t take Frankie long to get hold of Joel and tell him about Tess but the situation in the QZ deteriorates and plans are put on hold. The Fireflies attack the checkpoint into the sector where you live the day after he meets with Tess and for a few days it’s impossible to leave. You can’t get to the radio or to Will and Benny’s places, there are soldiers everywhere and all there is to do is to stay inside and lay low. You’re both starting to get worried about the situation in the QZ. 

“I don’t know where we’d go, but I think we should make an emergency exit plan,” Frankie says one day. “A plan to quickly get out of here if things go bad.”

You nod, looking down at the street through the window. There’s another patrol going down the street, heavily armed. There’s no curfew during the days, you were free to go outside. But as you watch the patrol stop two women walking down the street, searching their clothes and bags, it’s clear FEDRA isn’t letting anyone walk the street in peace right now. 

Frankie comes up behind you, leaning his head on your shoulder as he puts his arms around your waist. 

“I’ll talk to the guys, see what we can do. We hid a working car just outside the wall, that’ll get us away from Boston at least.” 

“All seven of us?” you ask, looking back at him. He sighs and shakes his head. 

“No, all seven of us won’t fit, but we’ll figure something out.” 

“Maybe we should just try to find some abandoned farm somewhere remote, live away from everyone else,” you say, leaning back so that you can feel his solid chest behind your back, “just risk it out there rather than in here with FEDRA, it just keeps getting worse and more and more oppressive.” 

“Maybe the Fireflies will be successful,” Frankie mumbles, watching the patrol disappear around a corner, “turn things around.” 

“You really think so?” you ask, he can hear the doubt in your voice. 

“No, not really,” he sighs, “but I like your farm idea, fuck everyone else, just you and me.” 

“It’s always just you and me, Frankie, even here. The others are like family but not like you, not the way you’re my family.” 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he tightens his grip on you, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. He doesn’t say anything so you just stand there while he breathes in your scent, memorizing it, as if he wouldn’t recognize it anywhere already. 

…

The morning the checkpoint reopens he leaves before you’re out of bed, gently dropping a kiss on your cheek while he rouses you, sitting on the bed. 

“I need to see Miguel about some spare parts, the clinic needs to fix some medical equipment,” he mumbles, his lips close to your skin while you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles and untangles himself, “I’ve got to go, cariño, I’ll see you this afternoon, I’ll come pick you up at the radio.” 

He makes his way through the checkpoint and over to Joel’s place. Tommy’s already there and Frankie leads them to the meeting spot he’d agreed on with Tess before the check point was bombed, hoping she’ll come back at the same time. Appointments were often postponed or interrupted in the QZ so there was a habit of just turning up at the same place, same time a couple days in a row and hoping for the best if you didn’t hear from the other person.

Tess is there, waiting, when the two Miller brothers and Frankie scramble up to the second floor of a partially bombed building. Joel grumbles about having to ‘drag and climb a fuckin’ dumpster’  but stands up straight and gives Tess a once over when she pushes herself off the dilapidated office desk she was leaning against. 

“This is Tess Servopoulos,” Frankie says, “Joel and Tommy Miller,” he points at each man. 

“Nice to meet you, Tess,” Tommy says, holding out his hand to her and she takes it with a smile. 

“Same, your reputation precedes you,” she replies, holding out her hand to Joel too, who accepts it and gives her hand a firm shake. 

“Only a good reputation, I hope,” Tommy chuckles, easing the tension in the meeting, although Joel still stands rigid, putting his hands into his jeans pockets after shaking her hand. 

“Frankie says you’re reliable and know your shit,” Tess says, eyeing Joel's silent form like she’s trying to gauge him. She knows he’s the one she has to convince and he’s doing his best to look as standoffish as possible. 

“We’ve been smuggling pretty much since the outbreak,” Tommy replies, “been in Boston for about five years now.”  

Tess nods, “I’ve been working with Georgie for about six years, here and there, but he got caught by FEDRA last week.” 

“Yeah, Frankie told us, bad luck,” Tommy nods but Joel scoffs. 

“Bad luck…he got sloppy, if that’s the kind of operation you run, we’re not interested, darlin’,” he says and Tess narrows her eyes at him, opening her mouth but closes it again, biting back whatever retort was on her mind. 

She turns to Tommy instead, “I know you used to work with a few other guys, why are you looking for a new partner?” 

“Our cousins have a thing about not smuggling drugs,” Joel replies, cutting Tommy off, “that a problem for you?” 

“Smuggling ‘em? Not at all,” Tess says, glancing at Frankie and he does his best to not look at Joel. When Joel asked how Frankie knew Tess he said he’d traded with her for spare parts for the radio. It was true, he had traded with her for parts, but only once. 

Joel looks at Frankie, connecting the dots, as Tommy gives Tess a rough outline of how they usually operate, what they can get their hands on. 

“You ok with that, Frankie?” Joel asks him, “Tess trading drugs? You got a handle on it?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Frankie looks up at Joel and wills himself to keep his eyes steady on the older man, “it’s fine.” 

Joel gives him a slow nod, “Ok, as long as you’re fine with it.” 

But Tess frowns and looks at Joel, “What do you mean?” she asks, eyeing him, “Why would Frankie have any problems with me trading drugs? He buys them from me.” 

Tommy raises his eyebrows at this piece of information and looks at Frankie who tries to square his shoulders and look like he’s in control. 

“They’re worried I’ll get addicted,” he says, “I got pretty bad PTSD after I left the army and when shit gets too dark here, it comes back,” he shrugs, feigning a casual attitude he doesn’t feel, “but I just need the shit to sleep, the nightmares never really went away and the pills help with that, that’s all.” 

He knows he’s not telling the whole truth and Joel certainly knows that, but Frankie meets his eyes and refuses to look away, willing the man to understand that he’s got it under control.  

Tess gives him a hard stare as Frankie tugs on his ball cap and crosses his arms. “Ok, as long as you’ve got a handle on it, I don’t have any issues, I’m not your moral compass, we all do what we need to do to get by. And from what I hear, you guys sell drugs too?,” she looks over at Joel who nods. 

“Yeah, but I stopped selling to Frankie a while back, and we stopped working together, what we did triggered his PTSD.”

“I’ve got it under control now,” Frankie says, he can feel the familiar panic creeping through his nerves. If Joel tells Tess to cut him off he has nowhere else to go. “Since I stopped with the smuggling I’m fine, it’s just the nightmares that give me insomnia, I just need the drugs to help me sleep on nights when it gets bad. But it’s less now, hardly ever.” He’s lying through his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady and his poker face on, but he’s not sure he manages.

“I don’t give a fuck, Frankie,” Joel says, “I’m not selling to you, mainly out of respect for your wife and Will and Benny. But like she said, I ain’t your moral compass.” He turns to Tess again, “Either way, that doesn’t affect our potential partnership. Since Frankie trusts you, maybe this can work, but I need to talk to my brother in private first. We’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

Tess nods and shakes both Joel and Tommy’s hands before the two men leave. Frankie and Tess follow after them, jumping down onto the dumpster. 

“Your wife’s not gonna come after me for supplying drugs to you, is she?” Tess asks as they reach the ground. 

“No,” he shakes his head, starting to walk away. 

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Tess has crossed her arms over her chest and is giving him another hard stare. 

“She does, she knows I take them to sleep,” Frankie tugs on his cap again, he knows it’s a nervous gesture and Tess just shakes her head. 

“You’re a shit liar, Frankie,” she says as she gives him another hard look, “Just keep it under control, ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s under control:” He raises his hand and gives her a wave, “I’ll see you around, I’ve got to get going.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Frankie.” 

…

Despite Joel’s mistrusting nature, he agrees to start working with Tess, on a trial basis. Frankie finds out a few days later when he asks Tess for an actual spare part for the clinic. 

“Joel’s a piece of work, but I prefer that to someone who throws his trust at anyone, that’ll get you killed,” she says, taking the ration cards the clinic had given him in exchange for a pristine looking piece of equipment. Frankie doesn’t know what it does exactly but he knows the one in the machine is broken and he’ll fix it somehow. 

“Joel knows his shit,” Frankie says, tucking the equipment into his backpack, walking back through the hotel with Tess. “Thanks for the part, Diana will be happy, the machine is important to them.”

“Sure, let me know if you need anything else.” She gives him a wave as he leaves. 

When he meets up with the rest of the guys later at the bar he tells them about Joel’s new partner. 

“I’m surprised Joel’s prepared to work with someone else,” Benny leans back on the couch and kicks out his long legs, “Tommy says he’s turned down both Miguel and that guy Robert.” 

“It’s a smart move,” Will replies, “FEDRA is all over the place, he’s gonna need an extra pair of eyes for any bigger trades. We’re gonna need to be real careful too, it’s no longer just a few nights in FEDRA lock up. They’re actually going through with fucking executions.”

“As if dealing with raiders and infected wasn’t bad enough, now FEDRA wants to kill us too?” Benny huffs, “Half the stuff we bring in goes to soldiers, for fucks sake…” 

Pope nods and takes a sip of the bar’s homemade whiskey, grimacing at the taste, “They were setting up for a hanging when I came over, three guys caught in condemned buildings. If FEDRA’s  already suspecting us like your girl said, Frankie, then we should probably lay low for a few weeks. We’ve got the supplies we need for now.” 

“What about the trade we have planned, we’ve got stuff coming in from Worcester, that deal Will and I set up? We’re gonna need to receive it and get it stashed as soon as it comes in.” Benny looks over at the others. 

For years their best contact had been a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, and through him Benny and Will had made a connection with a FEDRA officer in the Worcester QZ, the man’s brother in law. It had taken months but a convoy of FEDRA trucks were due to come over from Worcester, together with the officer and a number of much needed supplies hidden among the official FEDRA shipments. Thanks to Boston being a much bigger QZ the guys had been able to offer him a large stack of ration cards in exchange for a number of in demand items. 

Pope nods at Benny, “Yeah, we have to handle that one, we won't be able to postpone it.” He glances over at Frankie, “I hate to ask, hermano…” he says, “but we could really use your help, just as a look out, for that trade now. You think you’re ok to do it? I hate to say it, but you still look like shit.” 

Frankie shrugs, “I still don’t sleep great, the nightmares are a bitch, but yeah of course, if you need me, I can do it.” 

“Are you sure, Frankie?” Will asks, “I don’t want you doing this if you don’t feel ok, we’re not risking your recovery for this. The three of us will just do it as usual.” 

“If you need me, man, I can do it. And it’s just as a lookout right? That’s just keeping an eye on things, making sure no FEDRA patrols are around?” 

“Yeah, we’ve set up a lookout point near the location and we got some radios. All you’d need to do is sit there and radio me if anything happens.” Pope says, glancing over at Will who nods. 

“Talk to your wife first though, we don’t want to cause any family drama here, make sure she’s onboard with it and thinks you're ok to do it.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tonight, I’ll let you guys know tomorrow,” Frankie says, putting down his glass and getting ready to leave. “I’m picking her up from the radio office in a little bit. What day is this happening?”

“Thursday,” Pope says, “I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll talk it through.” 

“Ok, yeah, I’ll talk to her, but I feel good, I can do that, I wanna help you guys anyway I can,”

“Appreciate it, man,” Benny says, Frankie drops his hand on the younger man’s shoulder as he’s leaving and Benny gives it a quick squeeze, looking up at Frankie. “It’s good to know you’re doing better, Fish.”  

Frankie gives him a crooked smile and a wave to the other two and heads out the door of the bar. 

…

Frankie’s waiting outside the radio when you step outside, Sean’s taken over the radio for the evening and you’re stretching out your back after a long shift hunched over the dials and notebooks. You see him before he sees you, leaning against a barrier on the other side of the street, watching a group of children playing on a makeshift playground in a small park. They’ve all got the rough looking hand me downs the orphan children of the local FEDRA school wears and there’s two elderly ladies in FEDRA uniforms keeping an eye on them. 

Frankie looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and his ordinarily tan skin is ashen and gray. His curls are still brown but his scruffy beard is mostly silver now, as you watch his hand comes up and absentmindedly rubs across his jaw, scratching at the short hairs. You’d spent some time last night giving his beard and hair a trim, giggling as he wriggled his nose when the hairs tickled him. Sometimes he was back to his normal self, relaxed and soft around you, sleeping better without nightmares, even cracking jokes and messing with Benny when you met up with the others. But you could see that he was struggling still, the good nights were far apart and most mornings he moved like a sleepwalker, taking time to come back to life. In the evenings he stumbled to bed and was fast asleep as soon as he’d curled himself around you, sometimes the nightmares would plague him but he couldn’t wake up, you’d shake him and he’d be trapped in his nightmare. When you finally managed to rouse him he’d be disoriented and panicky until he fell asleep again, almost instantly. 

Now you walk across the street as he watches the kids take turns on the makeshift tire swing. You know which one of the children he’s looking at; a young girl, about five, with the same dark curls as Lucía. She’s hanging on to the swing, shrieking with laughter as another girl spins the tire around, her hair whirling around her head as she throws it back and giggles. 

“Hey Frankie,” you say as you come up to him, he turns around as you sneak your arms around his waist, pulling him out of his silent reverie. 

“Hey cariño,” he says, giving you a kiss before turning back to the park. The girl had gotten off the swing and was running towards the slide. “She reminds me of Lucía,” he mumbles, glancing over at you, “makes me wonder what she’d look like now.” You give his waist an extra squeeze as you watch the girl shoot down the slide and run around to climb back up to the top. 

“She’d be fifteen now, too old for playgrounds,” he gives a small smile, “although, I don’t think she’d ever get too old for swings, she loved them.” 

The little girl has climbed to the top of the slide for a third time and is standing up, waving at someone. 

“Come here! Ellie, come on the slide with me!” she calls, waving her arm and a younger girl hurries across from the swings and climbs the stairs, her short legs struggling with the big steps. The older girl instructs the younger to sit down in front, and together they slide down, their high pitched giggles carrying in the clear spring air. It makes your heart clench, the sound and the image so normal, reminding you of the times you’d been at the playground with Frankie and Lucía. 

“C’mon, we should get moving,” Frankie says, pulling his eyes away from the dark haired girl as he takes your hand. His mood is subdued on the way back to the apartment. You tell him about your day and he hooks his arm around your shoulder, listening as you walk through the crowds. But he remains silent, lost in his own thoughts when you stop talking. When you get back home he toes off his shoes and goes to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed as you fill a pot of water.  

“Joel and Tommy are gonna partner up with a woman called Tess,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. “Tess has been helping me get spare parts for the clinic and she asked if I’d introduce her to them.” 

You look over at him, you can hear from the tone of his voice that he’s not done. And he confirms it as he drops his gaze, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Pope and the guys asked if I could help them out on a trade, as a lookout, but they wanted me to talk to you first, make sure you’re ok with it.” 

“Tell me about it,” you say, turning to lean on the counter as he comes over and stands next to you. 

“They’ve got a connection with this guy in Worcester, he’s bringing in supplies on a FEDRA truck, as part of a bigger convoy. They need me to be the lookout when they meet the men inside the QZ. I won’t go outside and I won’t be near the actual trade, just be the lookout.” 

“Do you feel ok about it?” you ask and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, I wanna help them with this,” he says, turning a bit so that he can look at you. “FEDRA is patrolling more and they need me to warn them if there’s a patrol approaching.” 

“Your nightmares are still really bad though, and sometimes I can’t even wake you up from them, Frankie. If something happens, is it gonna trigger you even more?” 

“If something happens and I’m not there to keep watch, that’s gonna be even worse,” Frankie shakes his head, “They need my help with this. Once they’re done with this they’re gonna lie low, FEDRA’s hanging people over the smallest charge now,  but this trade is too big and they can’t postpone it.” 

“And you’ll only be lookout, away from the actual trade?” you question and Frankie nods again. 

“They have a lookout point nearby, I’ll have a radio and just contact Santi if something happens, that’s it.” 

You lean against the counter while Frankie looks at you, waiting for your answer, for your approval. It makes you realize that he hasn’t done that before, let you make the decision. He’s told you about the plans, listened to your opinion and adjusted the plans and made changes so that you would be more comfortable about letting him go. This time, when what he’s been asked to do really doesn’t seem all that dangerous by comparison, he’s leaving the whole decision up to you. 

“Ok, if you think you’re ready for it, I trust you Frankie, you should help them.” 

“I do, I feel strong enough to do this, thank you cariño,” he steps in front of you and grabs your thighs, hoisting you up onto the counter so that he's standing between your legs. It makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers. 

“When is it?”

“Thursday…was your skin always this soft here?” he’s running his nose down your neck, pulling back the scruff of your hoodie and burying it just above your clavicle. 

“You’re distracting me, Frankie, I had more questions,” you laugh, his tongue comes out and licks a warm strip across the ridge of the bone. 

“I know, that’s the point,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Much as I love this horny version of you, you should try and get as much sleep as possible until Thursday, I know how tired you are.” 

“Take me to bed then,” he chuckles, still buried against the crook of your neck, leaving a burning trail of nips and kisses up your throat. 

“We haven’t even had dinner,” you laugh as he tries to make you hook your legs around his waist so that he can pick you up, “Let me make dinner and then I’ll take you to bed for dessert.” 

“My favorite kind of dessert,” he smiles, pulling back from your neck to kiss your mouth, making you part your lips for his tongue. 

“Why don’t you take a nap on the couch while I make dinner, Frankie,” you say when he starts working his way back down along your jaw, “because at this rate, we’re never getting dinner,” you have to giggle when he starts pushing up your shirt, his warm hands palming over your back. 

“Too horny to take a nap now,” he chuckles, but he stands up and lets you slip off the counter. And when you start pulling out ingredients he gives your butt a final squeeze and does go to the couch. It doesn’t take long before you hear his soft snores, when you look over he’s face planted on the couch, one arm dangling off it, the other under his head as a pillow.

…

The trade is set up to take place after dark, and after curfew. Sunset in May in Boston is late so Frankie and the guys make their way to the meeting spot well before the curfew comes into effect and bunker down to wait for darkness. In an off limits building, an old office building near the QZ wall, Pope, Will and Benny have set up a secluded spot for the trade. Now the four of them are in the building across the small square, up on the fifth floor, inside a spacious apartment with a bird’s eye view of the neighborhood, the lookout point. 

The sun is slowly sinking below the horizon while they wait for the agreed upon hour. Benny’s brought an old battered pack of playing cards and they’re killing time by playing rounds of poker. Frankie curses when he loses yet another game, thankful they’re only playing for the silver cutlery Pope found in the apartment's kitchen. The utensils clink as Will drags them across the dining room table after winning his seventh game. 

“Fuck, Will, teach me your ways,” Frankie grumbles, he’s down to two spoons and one knife.

“Skill, Catfish,” Will chuckles, sorting his cutlery into neat piles, “And years of counting numbers.” 

“I just keep getting shit cards,” Benny mutters, tossing his losing hand onto the table with a snap of his wrist, making them scatter. “Your turn to deal, Pope.” 

Pope gathers the cards and quickly deals again, “I’m winning those spoons back, Will, just so you know.” 

“Whatever you say, man, you’re happy to try,” Will chuckles, straightening out the six large spoons he’s got neatly lined up along his eight knives and eight forks. “Just need to get Frankie’s two spoons and I’ve got a full set.” 

After two more rounds, Frankie kicks back his chair and throws his arms up in defeat, “I’m fucking bust.” 

“It’s alright, Fish, Diana and I will be thinking about you when we have dinner tomorrow,” Will smirks, sliding the spoons over to his side of the table. 

Pope looks at his watch and out at the dark night sky, “We should get going, scout the area again and position ourselves.” 

Benny gathers the cards and they all pack up. Frankie makes his way out to the large balcony wrapped around the corner of the building and scans the square and the surrounding streets. 

“All’s quiet out there,” he says in a hushed voice as he comes back in. Pope grabs his radio and turns it to the pre-agreed frequency and tests the connection. 

“I’ll radio you when we’re in position, make sure the connection is clear,” he says, clipping it onto his belt as Frankie does the same with his radio. “And don’t forget our contact is going to signal you when they cross the square.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s all under control,” he nods, waiting while the three men pick up the equipment they’d put by the front door when they came in. Even though it was a trade, old habits die hard, and they all had concealed handguns and backpacks with extra gear. Frankie secures his own gun at the back of his pants and triple checks the battery on the radio before picking up a battered pair of binoculars. 

“Alright, ready to go?” Will asks and the other two nods. “Radio us if there’s anything irregular, Catfish.”

“Stay safe, I’ll see you at the rendezvous soon.” 

Frankie locks up behind the guys as they leave the apartment and hunkers down on the balcony. He’s dragged out some of the less damaged couch pillows and propped them up along the railing and floor, making a nest where he’s hidden from sight. Through a small opening he can scan the streets below, laying flat on his belly with the binoculars in front of him. His nerves are making him jumpy, he’s not used to being without the sleeping pills this long, and it adds an extra layer of stress to the usual laser focus he has during a mission. Even though he’s ‘just’ the lookout he feels the familiar tingling in his spine as he scans the street. 

The radio crackles to life on his belt and Pope’s voice comes through; “Catfish, we’re in position. Do you copy, over?” 

“Loud and clear, Pope. I’m in position, over.”

“Maintain radio silence unless necessary, over.” 

“Wilco, out.” 

He clips the radio back on to his belt and settles down. There’s still about thirty minutes left before the other party is due to turn up, but both Will and Pope like having plenty of margins to work with. He glances at his watch and calculates in his head how long it would take for one of the oxy tablets to kick in. He needs something to sooth his nerves, it’s like he can feel every seam and stitch on every piece of clothing he’s wearing, scratching and grating against his overheated skin. Even his hair is itching where it curls over his ears and he swipes off his cap and pushes it back. Just one oxy, to take the edge off, let him focus while he waits. 

He swallows it dry, almost regretting it as the bitter flavor coats the inside of his mouth. But soon he feels the effect, his body goes loose, the scratching stops. He watches two men hurry across the square, stopping to give a one handed wave three times up towards Frankie’s balcony. The trade is underway, he leans back against the wall. 

It’s so quiet up here. The QZ is always so noisy, so many people in such a small space, up here he can’t hear anything, it’s so peaceful. 

All the people are gone. It’s only him. Up here. 

And these pillows are so soft, they feel like clouds against his face. 

Only him high up in the sky with no noise.

Just soft pillows and soft clothes and darkness behind his eyelids.

Chapter 33

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[green-planets]

Starlight Express but it's a Farmer's and Craft Market au! I've been rotating the idea around in my head for a few days now (and shared it in some servers!) There are a lot of (mostly) friendly rivalries going on between the vendors. They also barter and trade goods amongst each other!

Here's a map of the general layout of the stalls:

The two stalls on the top row directly to the right of Momma and Rusty were empty for a long time until Pearl started vending in the neighboring stall. About a week later, Electra set up shop.

I've also listed the stall types for each character under the cut (if you can't read my chicken scratch lol)!

Rusty and Momma- Your standard homegrown produce, Momma specializes in chicken and duck eggs

Greaseball- Cured meats, jerky, and BBQ sauce. His younger sister steps in to run his stall sometimes >:)

Electra- Spice blends and dried herbs

Pearl- Handcrafted jewelry

Dinah- Baked goods and jams

Buffy and Ashley- Honey, beeswax, and syrup

Carrie- Handmade bags (totes, handbags, coin purses, etc)

Brandi- Homebrewed beer and mead

Tassita- Succulents, stationary, and greeting cards. He also does custom calligraphy

Memphis Belle and Bonnie (Belle Jr.)- Quilts and crocheted crafts. Bonnie specializes in making plushies

Dustin- Polished and painted rocks

Flat Top- Sometimes he makes miniature sculptures out of welded nuts and bolts to sell at Dustin's stall. He's mostly there just to hang out with Dustin and get free jerky samples

Rockies- Pottery and custom mugs

CB- Foraged mushrooms (are they edible? Who knows...)

BV- He runs a shell game where he can rip people off

Slick- Gourmet olive oil

Porter and Lumber- Woodburn art. Lumber also does whittling on the side

Hydra- He's not a vendor, but he really wants to form a partnership with Rusty and show him Hydroponic Gardening

Wrench- Upcycled furniture

Volta and Joule- Soap, bath bombs, and candles

Purse and Krupp- Flowers

Killerwatt- He doesn't have a stall, he assists Electra

Zero- Smoothie stand (in a food truck set-up)

Espresso and Bobo- Wine and cheese (they used to have separate stalls until their rivalry turned into romance)

Coco- Handcrafted jewelry (uh oh, Pearl's got a rival)

Turnov- Knit goods (scarves, mittens, hats, etc.)

Ruhrgold- Artisan bread

Hashamoto- Assorted produce and (edible) mushrooms

Brexit- Fancy tea blends

[circe-and-the-wolf]

Still imagining that Abigail epilogue? Yes, I am.

In my mind, this is Joeys’s house. She has a visitor, as you can see 🧛🔍🖤

⬆️ (enjoying the luminance brushes on Procreate a little too much 😂)

📷 Fan art photo collaging using Procreate - photo of MG from ADOW - photo of MB by Luis de la Luz - stock/my own photos of garden furniture, foliage, house, etc. 📷

And there’s an imaginary scenario (for @cecipaez-blog1 ). I don’t own the characters, I haven’t properly studied the film, I have no idea what I’m talking about, really: it’s just for fun 🎡.

——————————————

A Visitor - Part 2 - Ready or Not

— imaginary mini epilogue to Abigail (2024) featuring Joey/Ana and Lazaar —

You often feel like you’re being watched. It’s a hazard of your line of work and the questionable company you keep. But tonight, as you clear away the debris of an evening with friends in your backyard, the feeling is palpable.

You pause to listen and gauge the sensation. The fairy lights strung overhead dance slightly in a warm swirl of summer air, making the shadows below you throb in and out of focus. A wind chime twinkles, with slight menace, from the garden next door.

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

Get inside and lock the door, your body tells itself.

Just as you have composed yourself and are about to continue the clean up job, a clear, luxuriant voice cuts through the warm night air behind you.

“Not interrupting anything, I hope?”

Your movement slows as immediately you identify the speaker. You straighten and speak his name:

“Lazaar.”

You are surprised by the evenness of your tone, when your pulse seems to feel the exact opposite.

You turn and, with another rush of the tepid breeze, he emerges from the shadow of a tree. His hands are in his pockets. His posture is soft. But his stare is far from it. He walks slowly towards you, enquiringly.

“I had friends over for dinner,” you gesture towards the empty pizza boxes piled in your arms and the beer bottles which clink together in your clawed fingers.

He nods and his gaze flickers towards the house.

“Everyone left,” you find yourself needlessly reassuring him.

“I see.”

You can’t quite see if he’s smirking but it feels as though he might be. As he observes the clutter in your arms, the movement of his eyes is languid and appraising. “May I?” he reaches towards the empty bottles to relieve you slightly of your load.

You’re taken aback by the offer, but agree, “Sure.”

As the bottles are transferred, you notice his nostrils flare. You realise he’s trying to ascertain what kind of company you have kept. His brow smoothes and you assume he is satisfied by his investigations; it was, after all, a girls’ night in.

Without being asked, he walks over to the bin store and deposits the bottles in the correct one. Returning to take the pizza boxes from your arms, he repeats the process. You observe that you find this bizarrely incongruous show of domesticity wildly attractive.

As he saunters back towards you, he looks at the open door to the house. You stand there wondering if you are actually going to invite a vampire into your home.

“Why are you here, Lazaar?” The question emerges low and slow into the sultry air. You didn’t mean it to sound so provocative but you’re coming to realise you have little control around this man. Creature. Fantasy figure.

The piercing gaze is on you now. The vampire looks slightly agitated by your question. You watch as he steels himself and sits down upon the garden wall. He shrugs:

“I find that you…” his gaze drops to his hands, “you… are on my mind.”

You take a deep breath to quell the lilting, fizzing sensation rising within you. You note the unassuming nature of his posture as he sits on the wall, deliberately metres away from you. Yet this calculatedly unthreatening stance does nothing to mask his agitation.

Numbed and blurred slightly by the moderate amount of beer you’ve consumed, you probe your instincts more carefully. You find there is no fight or flight here. No threat. You feel the same submissive calm of a few nights ago when you saw him in his garden. The same curiosity. The same heady lurch of your insides when he so much as looks at you.

“Ditto,” you hear yourself say, with a slight smile.

The look that now passes his features is positively devilish and you witness his first genuine smile at you in return.

But the warmth of the moment curdles instantly. You gasp as you notice the uniformity and whiteness of his teeth. They look normal and far from razor-sharp. A wave of nausea resonates with the shock pulsing through your body.

“Your mouth…” you breathe, your fingers finding your own lips by way of explanation.

His smile fades and he moves towards you but stops abruptly when you recoil.

“You’re not…” you breathe and your heart begins to thump as confusion and panic flood your senses, “you’re not in your true form. This - this isn’t you. It’s just an illusion… what are you doing? What game are you playing? Why are you here? I think you should…”

“Ana…” he interrupts, his voice gentle but stricken, “Ana, it’s all right…”

“I must be crazy. What the f*ck was I thinking…,” your mouth is dry and your legs are shaking as you try to back further towards the house.

“Ana, please,” his palms are raised in surrender as he takes two more cautious steps towards you. As the moonlit shadows slide over his features, you watch his face transform into something more familiar. His pupils darken until void of all light, his irises take on an ethereal glow and his fangs become clearly visible beneath a snarling lip.

Your heart stills as you realise that this sight, which should terrify you, has in fact achieved the opposite effect.

“There now…” he soothes, the old-worldly timbre chiming again in his voice. He tilts his face up to catch the moonlight further.

Otherwise he remains very still. Waiting. Watching.

His breath is patchy and you can see the anguish in his eyes.

“Why did you change?” your voice is unsteady, as though you might cry.

“My form… I can... I wanted to be something less alarming… more palatable… more safe.” His brow furrows and his lips close firmly. In the moonlight, you notice a muscle ticking in his jawline.

His vulnerability in this moment is exquisite.

“I did it for you,” he murmurs and this dissolves your doubt as swiftly as it had appeared.

“Well don’t,” you fold your arms but take two steps towards him, “don’t do that again.” your voice softens.

“I shan’t,” he bows his head reverently and relief floods through his tone.

When he lifts his head again, his gaze is searching, “But I want to take the form that you desire.”

The last word rips through you, quite literally, and he speaks again:

“How do you want me to be, Ana?”

[heymrspatel]

hi julissa, i am specifically thinking abt these boys tonight. mind telling me a bedtime story? 😌

ling! i'm sorry i left this in the inbox so long!

i just think that ian has these moments of remembering when mickey would say things like "you wanna spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?" i think he knows that deep down mickey wanted to do these things. mickey would play it off like he didn't care. brash and quick to dismiss what he just blurted out. but ian, he knows. he's always known.

and now, mickey lets little things like this slip out all the time. more and more the older and more settled they get. when he's comfortable and unguarded.

cooking dinner together. picking out furniture. going on a roadtrip.

seeing an ad for a jacket and looking at it a little too long. because he likes it. not because he needs it right now. not because he's looking for one that'll suit him for the change of season.

not found. not stolen. not too big. not torn. but new.

ian seeing him. he knows, he's always known.

reminding him that they can do this now. treat themselves once in a while. and when mickey still seems doubtful, resorting to, "you're going to look so hot in it, baby! i can't wait to see it on you." and boy doesn't that just do it.

but, all these little things remind ian of when they were younger. hearing these small dreams slip out of mickey's grumpy mouth. apathetic and sarcastic. realising now how open and almost hopeful mickey is with his little dreams now.

so, ian packs their trunk with treats. mickey's favorite chips and candy and beer. he makes sandwiches! goes out to the garden and chooses his best tomatoes for them.

he tells mickey they're going for a drive. the weather is finally feeling nice. he says they'll just take drive. "with our windows down and some tunes, mick!" the promise of fresh air and holding ian's hand while he drives propelling him to the door at a comical speed.

what he doesn't expect is ian driving them to the baseball field. or to see the banquet ian has prepared for them. or to feel so excited when ian says, "thought we could spread a blanket out and look for some stars". or to feel his face breaking out into a carefree smile.

of course ian knew. he's always known.

[inurnctdreams]

it’s the way you are - l.dh

masterlist

<prev next>

taglist: @ilovejungwonandhaechan @neozon3nha

viii. are you starting a freshman babysitting service? (wc 1.5k)

you bite your lip as you survey the downstairs floor of the NCT frat house. from your position on the fifth step of the staircase (you may have bypassed the crudely drawn ‘OUT OF BOUNDS - GO FUCK SOMEWHERE ELSE’ sign, but you figure you can get away with it as NCT’s favourite menace), you can see most of the lower floor. the kitchen is in the far right corner, double doors wide open to display the multitude of students hanging around the island covered in an assortment of beverages and stereotypical red solo cups. in the middle sits a huge plastic bowl full of doyoung’s infamous blackout punch. it’s an alarming orange colour and tastes dangerously like fruit juice instead of any of the numerous types of alcohol that are mixed in. jaemin drank so much one party last year he had to buy yeri coffee for two weeks to make up for the dress incident, which he still doesn’t even remember happening. he passed out in jeno’s lap five minutes later, hence the name. currently, you can see wooyoung and changbin yelling excitedly at san, before said soccer player downs an entire cup of the stuff and then goes back in for another.

your nose wrinkles, and you turn your gaze to the back doors to the left of the kitchen. a few people are sitting on the various pieces of garden furniture strewn out on the deck, but you can’t see much further and the only person you recognise out there is amy. unfortunately, she isn’t what you’re after right now. you bypass the small queue of girls waiting to get into the downstairs bathroom and look over the biggest space of the house, the living room. all of the non-seating furniture has been taken away and stored safely in the basement like usual, leaving the two huge sofas and whatever the guys could find for people to could sit on. it’s mostly beanbags and a couple camping chairs, though you’re pretty sure that’s yuta’s desk chair he’s currently lounging in, chatting animatedly to sicheng and yangyang. a potential candidate. the rest of the floor space is taken up by people dancing along to the music booming throughout the house (currently wow by btob), and you see a lot of familiar faces strewn throughout the throng of students. sadly, none that jump out at you, other than maybe yeonjun, but he seems a little preoccupied with soobin, wooyoung’s unofficial fifth roommate.

and directly below you, pushed up against the staircase, is the entire reason you’re scanning the house so meticulously: the beer pong table. your master plan to get jaehyun inebriated enough to agree to playing shinee on night night wednesday all relies on your ability to secure a partner skilled enough to give the reigning NCT beer pong champion a half-decent challenge. at the moment, ryujin and yeji are wiping the floor with felix and hyunjin, who is dramatically fake crying while downing yet another cup. eyes flitting back to the corner of the room where yuta is still engaged in conversation, you’re about to descend the stairs and proposition him when something catches your attention.

perched on the arm of the sofa on the right side of the living room is a boy with chocolate brown hair looking around nervously and wringing his hands in his lap. normally, you wouldn’t think twice about a stranger presumably looking for a friend at a frat party, but something about this boy’s demeanour is screaming that he’s super uncomfortable and in need of help. you make your way down through the room, waving at yuta, sicheng and yangyang as you go, coming to a stop in front of the boy, who, upon closer inspection, is definitely younger yet almost certainly at least six inches taller than you.

“hi!” you greet him over the music, feeling the bass of b.a.p’s hurricane in your entire body. “are you okay? you look a little lost… or like you’ve lost someone.”

“hey, uh.” his voice is a lot deeper than you expected. “both, i guess?” he brings a hand up to rub at his neck nervously. “i came in with my friend, but he went to get drinks like twenty minutes ago. now i can’t see him anywhere, and there are so many people here, and i only know like maybe five of them?”

“well he can’t have gone too far, i can help you look if you want? i’m y/n.” you smile. “even if we can’t find your friend, maybe one of the other four will show up so you’re not on your own.”

“yes please.” the earnest look on his face is so endearing you have to stop yourself pinching his cheeks. “honestly, we were invited at the rush event last week, but i dunno if frat life is for me anymore.”

“it’s not all like this.” you laugh, weaving your way through the crowd. “yeah, parties are what people tend to think of when they think frats, but that’s only a small part of it and they’re not compulsory. there’s so many other fun and less choatic events that get put on, and they’re all really great guys here.”

you’ve managed to make your way to the back doors, and the tall freshman holds the door open for you as you step out into the cool night air. maybe johnny was right and your outfit was lacking a few layers for the frigid january weather, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of letting him know. it’s not as busy out here, and while there’s a buzz of conversation emitting from the backyard, it’s nowhere near as loud as inside.

“oh!” your new companion exclaims. “there’s mark.” you follow his line of sight to see said recruitment chair leaning up against the wall with a drink in his hand. he’s laughing along with something one of the people in the small group surrounding him has said, and you spot a few familiar faces among them.

“you know mark? oh, he must’ve been at the rush event.”

“yeah, it was him and the frat president who invited us, but i can’t remember his name.” the boy frowns, following as you lead the way over to them.

“taeyong.” you supply, watching as he nods in recognition. “i haven’t seen him around tonight actually, but like you said there are a lot of people here.”

“y/n!” jeno is the first to notice your presence. you easily accept the hug he offers and turn to greet the other boys.

“hey guys, so this is-“ you cut yourself off with a frown, realising you’d never actually asked the freshman what his name was. oops.

“jisung!”

“chenle!” jisung moves to stand next to who you presume is his missing friend with a huge grin.

“this is jisung.” you laugh. “i met him inside looking a little lost and offered to help him find his friend, but seems like you beat me to it.”

“hey, man!” mark grins at jisung. “we bumped into chenle in the kitchen and got to talking, sorry if we worried you.”

“hi.” a voice to your left diverts your attention from the conversation in front of you. you turn and come face to face with donghyuck and damn, the picture ten posted earlier in the evening really didn’t do him justice. up close, you can see every mole that dots his pretty face and you want to trace your fingertips between them to map them out like a constellation.

“hey.” you breathe, suddenly finding it more difficult to do so. being in this close proximity to him is not something you’ve experienced yet, and it’s seemingly bad for your health.

“are you starting a freshman babysitting service?” he teases, little smirk turning up the corner of his lips.

“yeah, of course.” you scoff, leaning back to give yourself some space to collect your thoughts. “he just looked really lost and i wanted to make sure he was okay. i was actually on my way to find a beer pong parter to hopefully dethrone jaehyun.”

“either you’re very confident in your own beer pong skills or you’re delusional.” donghyuck looks very unimpressed by your response. “he’s been undefeated for as long as we’ve been students here, probably longer.”

“since the end of year party the year before, actually.” you inform him, shrugging. “and maybe ‘dethrone’ is a little ambitious, i just need someone good enough to not get swept without making him down a few.”

“why?”

“well… i have a plan that may or may not involve getting him drunk enough to agree to something and then recording it as evidence so he can’t say no afterwards.” you watch as what can only be described as an evil, gleeful smile spreads across donghyuck’s face.

“i’m in.”

[michellemisfit]

It is time for @gallacrafts Theme 22: PRIDE!

Gather round and I will tell you a little story…

🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈

The balcony in their west side apartment may not be huge, but it’s big enough to fit a small table and two chairs. When they first moved in, Ian’s idea had been to have regular brunches out here, enjoying the early morning sun and each other’s company.

Mickey pointed out that brunch was gay, and that he preferred an early morning fuck to early morning French toast, anyway.

Ian punched Mickey in the shoulder with a grumbled “Shut up”, and left it at that, sure he’d find a way to convince his husband soon enough. He always did.

But then word spread about Gallavich Security and they really couldn’t turn down any new clients because they needed the money for rent, and utilities, and furniture, and ambulance repairs, and Mickey gave those polka dancers an extra big tip at the end of their anniversary celebration, which Ian thought was really sweet, but it all added up.

And so, their lives got busy for a while, and since they weren’t using the balcony for luxurious married couple brunches, Ian started filling the space with plants.

He picked up a load of potted herbs one day, because they were on sale and the idea of having fresh herbs at all times made him smile. And once they had basil readily growing then of course tomatoes had to be next. Mickey found him reading an article about gardening in restricted spaces one evening and the next time he returned from a grocery run he unceremoniously dropped a hanging basket in Ian’s lap. “For your tomatoes” he muttered, before going to the kitchen to get a beer. Ian smiled after him, besotted with his grumpy husband.

Next Ian picked up some ferns for cheap. And one of their neighbours asked if they’d like some of her surplus spider plants, as they propagated better than she had expected.

The week after that Ian bought some blue agapanthus, for more money than he should have spent, but they reminded him of their wedding flowers – which meant he just had to buy them. So yeah, the plants start to add up.

And suddenly it’s June. They’d finally hired two new drivers and just finished training them, introducing them to all their clients, explaining the routes, the shortcuts, the high police presence areas to avoid at all costs… y’know, the usual.

And now? Well, now they have an entire week to themselves! Their first ever “vacation”, and Ian is determined to kick it off in style. He carefully gets out of bed. Mickey grumbles, smacks his lips, and turns his face into Ian’s pillow, inhaling deeply and settling back into sleep.

Ian opens the Pinterest App on his phone (he talks to his plants and is desperate to convince his husband of how great brunch is - of course he has a Pinterest account…) and lays everything he needs out on the counter, before heading out to the balcony to make some space. He shuffles plants around and adjusts furniture until he’s happy they’ll be able to sit comfortably. He heads back inside to start a pot of coffee and get to flipping pancakes.

He’s taken care of the few misshapen clouds from his earliest tries (by eating them, obviously!) and he’s just messing about with sprinkling some powdered sugar on the finished plates when he hears Mickey questioningly calling his name.

Picking up both plates and two coffee mugs he calls back “On the balcony!” before stepping outside and adding the plates and mugs to the already laid out cutlery, milk, and maple syrup. He steps back into the kitchen to get the full coffee pot and he’s just filled Mickey’s mug when the man himself steps out into the snug space.

“What’s all this?” Mickey asks, amusement and fondness in his voice.

Ian glances over at him then quickly away. He feels the tingling heat of a blush on his cheeks and suddenly feels silly for the amount of fuss he’s made, so tries to play it off as casual and says, shrugging “I made us some pancakes.”

Mickey looks at the pancake rainbows and powdered sugar covered clouds on both of their plates, sat next to steaming cups of coffee, and raises an eyebrow at his husband. “Yeah, you sure did…” he starts, teasingly, reaching for Ian’s neck and scritch scritch scritching through the short hair at his nape. He glances back at the table and concludes: “That’s really fucking gay, Gallagher.”

Ian laughs, slapping Mickey’s hand off his neck, only to grab his face in both hands and pull him in for a lingering kiss, mumbling on the pull back to “Shut up, and eat your Pride Pancakes, Mick”

Delivering one more smacking kiss to Ian’s lips Mickey goes to sit down, positively beaming at his ridiculous husband. “Happy fucking Pride to us.”

Rooster mugs created by the fabulous @deedala, and available for purchase here. || If you’d like to see some in progress pictures of the pancakes then head over here :)

And lastly, as an extra sweet treat, below is some real life footage of Ian enjoying the Pride Pancakes!

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[hypersonic04]

Cosy Sunday Prologue (kind of?)

my heart simply cannot cope <3 this is a little bit dad ross, kind of the two of you deciding to have a baby!

word count: 1,371

Celebrating any of the boys' accomplishments was so much fun and made you burst with pride, and today is no different. In honour of their number one album, Ross' family are having a get-together to celebrate.

It's the height of summer, sunlight beaming down into the trimmed-up garden. Bunting, balloons, the lot - his mum has really gone above and beyond. The smell of barbecue wafts through the closed gate as you approach, hand in hand with Ross.

"I'm starving." You hum as you get closer, the noise of everyone you love talking away on the other side of the fence making you smile warmly.

"Me too." He replies, glancing down at you. He looks especially handsome, t-shirt and shorts being his outfit of choice for today. Holding the gate open above your head, you smile up at him, walking through with a bottle of champagne in hand.

"You made it!" His sister-in-law squeals as you walk into the garden, opening her arms as she approaches you.

Hugs are exchanged between everyone, glasses of champagne are poured, and the whole thing just feels so lovely and relaxed. Music plays away in the background, the light starting to dim, and soon enough there's a soft glow from the fairy lights strung across the fences.

You and Ross sit close together, knees touching as you make conversation with friends. Soon enough, Ross' nephew finds him, making a beeline for him immediately.

"Hello mate!" He smiles, opening his arms for the little boy to run into. He does so, finding his place sat on Ross' knee, little legs dangling.

You go all soft as you listen to them talk, his giggles making you smile. Ross listens to him intently, asking him what he thought of the newest Star Wars movie, telling him he'll take him to see the next one.

"Can we bring Auntie y/n?" He asks. Ross whispers something in his nephews ear and sends him into a fit of laughter.

"Is Uncle Ross being mean?" You gasp playfully, watching the little boy laugh even more, if possible. He whispers something to him again and you bite your bottom lip to hold back the ridiculously wide smile on your face at watching your husband interact with kids. Your heart swells at the thought of having your own.

"Uncle Ross said that it's boys only." He laughs.

"Boys only?!" You pretend to be offended as Ross laughs at your nephew, his arm around the back of him so he doesn't fall.

The three of you start talking between yourselves, an in-depth conversation about school being your main focus. Ross looks at you for a second as you hold his nephew's hands gently, nodding along as he talks away, and has to tear his attention away before he gets emotional at a family gathering.

"Have you eaten, y/n? There's loads of food left." Ross' mum mentions to you as she comes to sit next to her son and grandson, reminding you that you actually haven't had anything to eat since you got here.

"Yeah, make sure you eat." Ross taps your knee gently, nodding in agreement with his mum.

"I'll go and get something." You smile, brushing your hand over his.

You find yourself sat with his sister-in-law and some family friends for a lot of the afternoon. Watching Ross talk with everyone makes you all sappy. He steals glances across the room at you, soft smiles and subtle winks exchanged over sips of champagne, frequent visits to fill up your glass a mere excuse to be close to you.

"What're you two giggling about?" Ross smiles, approaching you and his sister-in-law as you sit comfortably on the outdoor furniture.

"Nothing for you to know." She squints playfully at him, making him roll his eyes. She gets up as he takes a seat next to you, stretching his arm out along the back of the outdoor sofa.

"It's been lovely, hasn't it?" You say, looking to your left and meeting his gaze, already fixed on you. He takes a drink from his bottle of beer and nods in agreement.

"It has." He smiles, kissing the side of your head. "You look so pretty in this dress."

"Thank you." You blush a little, grinning from ear to ear as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You look really handsome in this t-shirt." He laughs airily, leaning forward and placing his beer bottle on the little table in front of you.

You sit in silence for a while, pulled closely into his side as he fumbles with a strand of your hair on the other side that his arm is wrapped around. A lot of his family have already headed home, leaving small little groups of people and the nice kind of chatter that makes you feel relaxed and at home.

"It's quiet now all of the kids have gone home." He sighs, fingertips tracing up the soft skin of your arm. You hum in response, mind wandering. Glancing down at you momentarily, it's like he can tell that you're thinking about something. "What's up?"

"Nothing." You smile, looking at him. His face is lit up by the soft glow of the firepit and fairy lights, his eyes impossibly dark and gentle.

"You're a liar." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"No, really. There's nothing wrong."

"Then what is it?"

"I just..." You sigh, the feeling of his hand on your knee comforting. "I can't stop thinking about earlier. About you earlier, with your nephew."

"What? About going to see Star Wars? I was joking if-"

"No! Not about that." You laugh, turning to him properly. You brush a strand of hair from his forehead, watching as his eyes never leave you for a second. "I guess what I mean is that it was really cute." You tilt your head as you look up at him, watching him go all soft. "And you're really good with kids."

You place your hands over the one he has on your knee. The way he looks over your face would suggest that he's trying to read your mind, which he seems to have some kind of supernatural ability to be able to do.

"Well, you're really good with them too." He smiles, brushing your hair out of your face. "And you'll be a really good mum."

"Do you think so?" You ask. He nods affirmatively. "I think I want a baby, Ross." Your voice is just above a whisper as you purse your lips, anticipating his response. He doesn't say anything for a second, looking at you with raised eyebrows and inhaling deeply. Before you can backtrack and pretend like you didn't mean it, his face breaks out into the widest smile you think you've ever seen, and you swear that there's a tear in his eye.

"So do I." He says, his voice equally as quiet. Biting down on your bottom lip, you hold your face excitedly, taking in the sheer happiness on his face. "A baby." he laughs in disbelief, rubbing his the side of his face.

"A baby." You repeat.

He pulls you closer to hi, pressing the softest of kisses onto your lips. His pulls away for a second, meeting you teary gaze, before kissing you twice again.

"It'll be difficult, with work and touring, but-"

"None of it will be difficult, my darling." he smiles at you sweetly and kisses away the stray tear that escaped down your cheek. "I promise you, nothing is going to be difficult about this, because it's going to be our baby. We're doing this together."

"I love you." You manage to get out, your throat tight as you bat away tears again. "So much."

"And I love you so much." He uses his thumb to wipe them away, smiling lovingly. "And there's no one else in this whole world that I'd rather do this with."

[cliophilyra]

Solace

Bucktommy | T | 615 words

I have updated this thing I wrote for the Intimacy Prompts ask game quite a lot as I wasn’t happy with it. I think I wrote it in a fugue state yesterday 😆

@hardly-an-escape & @bidisasterevankinard chose almost the same ones (14 & 19 and 13 & 14) so I have combined them.

Now also on AO3

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Buck smiles softly as he opens the sliding door to their garden and takes in the view. Tommy is sitting in one of the reclining yard chairs Buck convinced him to buy once they’d made the neglected yardinto somewhere they might actually want to spend time. Tommy had rolled his eyes at the garden furniture and planters, hummingbird feeders and climbing plants, but he spends more time out there now than Buck does.

His eyes are closed and Buck is pretty sure he’s asleep in the fading evening sunshine. There’s a book on his chest and a bottle of beer half-drunk beside him, condensation pooling on the table below it. Buck’s heart feels several sizes too big for his chest.

Part of him doesn’t want to wake his boyfriend but today hurt more than any day has for a long time, and he needs him more now than he can resist. He crosses the yard and carefully swings a leg over Tommy, sitting down in his lap. Tommy starts awake, his hands flying to Buck’s hips as his eyes snap open.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart,” Tommy laughs, shaking his head fondly.

Buck smiles down at him, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders slip away. “Hey baby,” he says, leaning down for a kiss.

Tommy kisses him back as Buck runs his hands over his chest, focusing on the steady thump of his heart under his palms. Alive.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Tommy laughs, leaning in for another kiss.

“Mmm,” Buck picks up Tommy’s beer from the table and takes a long pull, trying to distract himself. Condensation drips from the base of the bottle to run down the neck of his shirt.

Tommy reaches up to take the bottle back. “Get your own,” he says with a smile, taking a mouthful himself before putting it back on the table and pressing his lips to Buck’s throat, chasing the drops of water down to his clavicle.

Buck hums, shifting in his lap as Tommy moves his hands down to grip his ass in both hands. Buck moans softly against his neck. Half of him very much wanting to just follow where this is going, but the moment he closes his eyes he’s back there. His breath catches and he stills, breathing in the scent of Tommy’s skin as he tries and fails to push the memories down, suddenly shaking in his boyfriend’s arms.

Tommy’s hands still immediately and he reaches for Buck’s shoulders, pushing him back gently.

“Sweetheart?” he says and the concern in his voice is all it takes to bring the whole terrible, horrible, not good day welling up in Buck’s chest. His lips flatten into a line as he tries to hold back the tears.

“Oh sweetheart, what happened?”

“It—it--it was, fuck--,” Buck swallows hard. “There was a woman...she was with her kids...in a car.” He leans forward again, resting his head against Tommy’s chest.

“She didn’t make it?” Tommy asks, lips soft against Buck’s hair.

Buck shakes his head, feeling the tears start, damp spreading through Tommy’s shirt under him. He can still hear the cries of the kid, the inhuman wailing as he and Eddie dragged him from the mangled wreckage, away from his mother’s body.

He gasps, choking on a sob as Tommy’s arms wrap around him, drawing him closer. He presses his face into his chest, twisting as if he could merge himself into Tommy, make himself a home inside him.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he knows enough to know there’s nothing he can say. Instead, he trails his hands up and down Buck’s back, blunt nails scratching over his shirt, soothing and slow.

[misshoneyimhome]

Better In Time I Frederik Andersen

[Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Summary: After graduating from high school, you throw a celebration with your family and friends. And during this event, you seize the ideal moment to ask Freddie about something important.

Graduation Hat Rules

Tropes & warnings: Frederik Andersen x reader, friendship, best friend!Freddie, graduation party, smut 18+: oral sex (m receiving), protected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.3K

➼｡ﾟ

June 2011

Over three years had passed since that memorable night when you and Frederik took your friendship to a deeper level, and life had since taken each of you on different paths. 

Frederik’s passion for hockey had led him on an incredible journey. In 2010, he had come tantalisingly close to being drafted into the NHL—a dream that seemed within reach. However, fate had other plans, and he chose to stay in Denmark. Instead, he was preparing for a significant move to Göteborg in Sweden, a major step in his burgeoning career.

During the same period, you had navigated through the ups and downs of high school, focusing on subjects close to your heart—history, languages, and the arts. So now, it was time to celebrate your graduation, making you and your family gather close friends and loved ones for a joyous bash.

The garden was beautifully decorated, with a pavilion providing shade from the warm June sun and a long table set with delicious food and drinks. Your father proudly took on the role of BBQ master for the day, with your brother eagerly assisting. After all, it was Tom’s graduation too. Although you had attended the same high school, your paths had diverged; he was a sports enthusiast, while you had immersed yourself in the world of academics and creativity.

The party buzzed with life, filled with laughter, music, and animated conversations. And amid the festivities, you and Frederik were naturally drawn to each other, your connection as strong as ever. Despite the physical distance that had separated you for several years, it felt as if no time had passed. You rekindled your friendship, exchanging stories about your journeys, laughing together, and creating new memories in the warm summer air.

And as the night progressed and most of the guests had left, only a select few remained—your brother Tom and his friends, your father, Frederik’s parents and siblings, and a few close friends. Yet, you and Frederik just settled into some garden lounge furniture, enjoying beers as you continued your conversation.

For the entire day, there had been something you wanted to share with him, something that had been on your mind maybe even for a week since the graduation where you first received your cap. So, with gentle deliberation, you leaned closer, your voice soft and tender as you whispered into Frederik’s ear, “Can I show you something... in my bedroom?”

A smile played on Frederik’s lips, his eyes alight with a mix of intrigue and anticipation, as he nodded, and together, you headed to your bedroom, driven by a curiosity that had been bubbling beneath the surface for too long.

Then after gently closing the door behind you, Frederik sat on your bed, facing you. You suddenly felt yourself hesitating, your lips meeting in a light, uncertain touch as you struggled to find the right words. But the growing desire inside you urged you to speak.

“So,” Frederik began, breaking the silence, his honey-brown eyes locking onto yours with an almost innocent smile on his sweet ginger face. “What did you want to show me?”

“Actually,” you replied softly, your voice trembling as you spoke, “it’s not something I want to show you... it’s more something I’d like to do.”

Frederik’s expression shifted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes as he grasped your intention.

“You mean...” he asked, his curiosity clearly evident.

You responded with a gentle nod, your lower lip lightly caught between your teeth, and a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I want to cut a lightning bolt in my cap,” you playfully revealed, taking a small step closer to the large figure seated on your bed.

Frederik’s breathing deepened, your name softly escaping his lips as he sought clarification. “Are you sure?”

You nodded again, your head held high with a sense of confidence. “Let’s just say it’s one friend helping another.”

And Frederik’s smile only widened as you gently straddled him on the bed, your hands finding their way to his neck. Then slowly, you closed the distance between you, connecting your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss.

It began softly and gently, your lips moving together as you stole breaths in the sweet exchange. Frederik's lips felt so familiar; you had almost forgotten how wonderfully they fit with yours and how much you missed the effortless comfort of being with him.

Sure, you’d been with other boys since losing your virginity to Frederik and had even dated two guys during high school. But none of them compared to him. They were funny and sweet, but it mostly felt like good company. The sex had been fine, and you’d explored different areas to gain more experience and discover your preferences.

But this was different. You didn’t have to pretend or act differently. With Frederik, you could simply relax and ease into his touch. And that’s exactly what you did.

His hands encircled your body, gently cupping and squeezing your ass, while your tongue smoothly explored his mouth, met with eagerness. Your hands moved to his fiery red hair, lightly tucking it, which elicited soft moans from Frederik as you broke apart. 

“Lay down,” you whispered seductively, your eyes locking intensely with his. And naturally, he complied, slowly moving up the bed, resting his body on the duvet and placing his head on the pillow.

Then with a cheeky grin, he couldn't help but ask, “Are you sure you want to do this with our families just outside?”

You returned his playful smile and nodded confidently. “I’m sure,” you said, adding a wink. “Besides, Tom will probably make sure no one disturbs us.” Your voice was soft and almost husky as you slowly moved your hands up Frederik’s legs, reaching the hem of his trousers.

“I’m supposed to rely on your brother to stand guard while I have sex with his sister?” Frederik raised an eyebrow, looking down at you as you began kissing his skin just above the fabric.

You hummed in response and met his stern gaze with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” you assured him, “he already knows, and the fact that he hasn’t killed you yet suggests he’s okay with it.”

So, Frederik simply accepted your response with a relaxed sigh and leaned back, resting his head.

Skillfully, you then unbuttoned his trousers, zipped them open, and gently pulled them down with a bit of help from Frederik, sliding them off completely. You then returned to kissing him, this time moving to his inner thighs, which elicited soft moans from the man beneath your touch.

And as you kissed his length through the fabric of his boxers, his expression grew more intense, and you could feel him gradually hardening with each touch of your lips. So, with a confident smirk, you slipped your fingers under the hem of his boxers and pulled them down, revealing his cock.

You couldn’t suppress a small gasp as you caught sight of it. It was so big and pink, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you thought about the taste of it.

Tender moans escaped from Frederik as his sensitive member was exposed to the cold air, and they only grew louder when you confidently enveloped him with your warm mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Frederik’s voice was husky and trembling as you took him down your throat, hollowing your cheeks around him. You knew you had to keep him quiet, aware of the risk of being overheard, but you couldn’t help but enjoy pleasuring him. His length felt like a large lollipop in your mouth, and each moan from him only made you more aroused.

Frederik’s breath caught in his throat as you quickened your pace. Moving your head up and down, covering him with saliva while your hand gently stroked the part your mouth couldn’t reach, his breathing growing heavier and more erratic. You could see the muscles in his thighs flexing, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

And, feeling the urgent desire to have him inside you, you reluctantly released him from your mouth with a soft ‘pop’.

As the cold air once again met his sensitive skin, Frederik let out a big sigh, calming down from being so close to release. Not that he minded—he wanted to feel himself inside you too. So, a smile adorned his face as you slipped off the bed and removed your summer dress, keeping the cap on your head. You then discarded your lacy underwear before reaching for a condom from the nightstand.

Frederik's hand gently reached out to take the small package from you. He ripped the foil open and rolled the condom onto his member while you climbed back onto the bed and straddled him once more. Then after taking a few calming breaths and gently stroking his cock, you rubbed your folds along his length, eliciting soft moans from both of you. 

Comfortably settling on your knees, you then lined up the tip with your entrance and very slowly lowered yourself onto him, your tight walls embracing his cock. Just like the first time, Frederik was large, and it took more than a few seconds to allow him to fill you up. You even had to take a moment to adjust to his size before you could move your lower body.

The room filled with your harmonising moans, neither of you able to contain the sounds completely. So, with satisfied smiles, you then began to smoothly roll your hips, supporting yourself on Frederik’s pale chest.

Your movements were gentle and slow at first, but as the arousal within you both began to stir, Frederik matched his thrusts with your rhythm, and you instinctively increased your speed. 

Breaths became heavy, as you dug your nails into his skin. His hands supported your hips, guiding you as you rode him vigorously, while you cursed under your breath, feeling his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you, making you almost shut your eyes as the sensation of your impending release built up.

And then Frederik sat up straight, causing you to moan louder as his cock twitched inside you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, supporting your body as you continued to move together, the intimacy and intensity of the moment deepening.

Your lips clashed in a quick, sloppy kiss as you kept rolling your hips. His hands stayed on your hips, guiding your motions still, while your head fell into the crook of his neck, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Freddie…” you breathed into his skin.

“Me too,” he coaxed gently into your hair. “Come with me.”

Then muttering your name in a hot, heavy breath, Frederik pressed his fingers deep into your skin and rocked his hips in a final thrust that sent you both over the edge. You quivered, gasping for air as you let the intensity consume you and came around his cock, the pressure of your pleasure bringing him his own release.

And without exchanging any words, you both slowed your breathing, holding each other tightly and coming down from the euphoria. With warm smiles, you turned to look at Frederik, your foreheads meeting in a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you had just shared. His presence was a balm for your soul, a comforting familiarity that you had missed dearly.

"So," he said softly, his voice filled with warm affection, "let's cut that lightning bolt into your hat."

You both shared a few chuckles as you gently moved off him and went to your desk to fetch a pair of scissors. Meanwhile, Frederik took the opportunity to dispose of the condom in a nearby bin. Then sitting closely together on your bed, you carefully snipped a tiny lightning bolt into the fabric just beside the square on the inside of the cap.

A smile of contentment spread across your face as you completed the cut, a symbol of the perfect moment you had shared with Frederik once again. To you, this wasn't just a silly gesture; it was a cherished memory created with your oldest and dearest friend, someone you had missed profoundly, and whose presence in your life felt more fleeting with each passing day.

You exchanged meaningful glances, then carefully returned the scissors to their place before donning the hat. It was a subtle reminder of the unique bond you and Frederik shared.

"Perhaps we should head back to the party?" you suggested, your voice tinged with a hint of shyness. With a nod from Frederik, you both began to dress, ensuring you looked presentable to rejoin the festivities.

_

2012

The following year brought a noticeable shift in the dynamics of your friendship with Frederik. Despite him not being too far away in Sweden, the physical distance began to weigh heavily on your connection. This was compounded by the fact that you were both entering the real world, focusing on your respective studies and the uncertainties of life ahead.

And then came the pivotal moment in Frederik's life when he received the call he had long awaited. He was drafted to the Anaheim Ducks, a monumental milestone in his hockey career. It was a dream realised, the culmination of years of relentless hard work and unwavering dedication. The prospect of playing in the NHL was exhilarating yet came with its own set of challenges. But Frederik was undaunted and ready to embrace this new chapter, knowing that his journey was only just beginning.

Yet, amidst the excitement of Frederik's achievement, a small part of you couldn't help but acknowledge the impending void that would be left by your best friend's absence. And this time, the distance felt even more daunting. However, as a true friend, you masked your own emotions and showered him with nothing but love, affection, and unwavering support for his remarkable accomplishment in his career.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Tea?

Uncle Saradoc and the search party had been out for over an hour. It was now very late; far past his bedtime. Aunt Esmerelda had wrapped him in a warm blanket and given him a little cup of tea, but it sat untouched on the table at his side, and had gone quite cold.

He couldn’t drink it. He couldn’t sleep. His stomach hurt too badly for either.

When Uncle Saradoc came in about a half an hour later, he was walking very quietly, and wringing his hat in his hands, and he had to take two slow, deep breaths before he could look Frodo in the eye.

Frodo never touched that tea.

- - -

He always had tea with breakfast—both first and second—with two sugar cubes and enough milk to turn the concoction nearly white. Bilbo liked to joke that Frodo liked a bit of tea with his milk, rather than the other way around. Frodo didn’t mind. He liked his way just fine; he’d once taken a sip from Bilbo’s cup by mistake, and nearly spat it out.

Tea was better when it was sweet.

- - -

They’d had a few home-brewed beers with dinner at Farmer Maggot’s house, of course, but tea with supper in the house at Crickhollow. Merry and Fatty, bless them, already had the kettle on by the time the three others had sloshed out of the bath, and supper was served in short order; Frodo thought a quiet home meal, with Mrs. Maggot’s gift of mushrooms, had never tasted so good.

He took his tea with far less embellishment nowadays. Just a pinch of sugar, and a small splash of milk. He was now the sober age of fifty, and sugar-milk with a sparse hint of tea flavoring held far less appeal than it had when he was a tween.

He was staring into a half-emptied cup, trying to work up the courage to tell them all he was leaving the Shire for good, when Merry beat him to the punch.

He’d never been so happy to be played for a fool in his entire life.

- - -

There was tea in Bree, but it was mostly forgotten in favor of ales and lagers in mugs the size of their heads. It was a shame they spent so little time in the Prancing Pony, and had to leave town so soon; Frodo could have gone in for a cuppa to soothe his nerves in all the madness that had happened.

- - -

There was tea in Rivendell, but only because Bilbo had explicitly requested it for his own comfort. They were deep in conversation when Bilbo slid a little teacup Frodo’s way, and the drink in it was nearly white.

Two sugars. A whole pour of milk.

Frodo smiled, but his chest ached, and there was some warm pressure behind his eyes.

- - -

There was no tea in Moria.

There was no tea in Lorien.

There was no tea in the wilderness; the Emyn Muil; the Dead Marshes.

If they walked past some relative of a tea leaf growing wild in the tattered gardens of Ithilien, Sam didn’t stop to get a clipping. They didn’t have a kettle anyway.

- - -

There was no water in Mordor.

- - -

They’d opened every window, scrubbed every floor, thrown out the stained and molding old furniture and replaced it with new. There were curtains on the windows again, and a merry little fire on the hearth, and the comfy clattering of pots and pans and sizzle of cooking food.

He sat in silence, staring into the fire. He didn’t know it, but his thumb was rubbing circles over the scar where his third finger had been.

The fire danced and flickered. He didn’t see it.

His thumb kept rubbing circles.

“Tea?”

It took a long moment, but he slowly realized that the noise was a question. When he lifted his head, he saw that Sam had appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, already holding the kettle with a little woven red pot-holder, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

Frodo’s eyes stung, and not because of the fire. His breath hitched.

He put his face in his hands and wept.

- - -

(Inspired in part by this post)

WORD ASK GAME!