#again. i’m sure this is normal and fine

[luvs4matt]

a lesson learned - matt sturniolo

pairing - dom!bestfriend!matt x sub!bratty!reader

warnings - use of y/n, implied aftercare, slight fluff at the end, SMUT, rough sex, doggy style, cowgirl, missionary, orgasm denial, degradation, praise, begging, bratty reader, angst?, sir kink, spanking (ass and tits), fingering, punishment, nicknames (baby, baby girl, doll, sweetheart, good girl, my girl, whore), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), kissing/makeout, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, cream pie

summary - in which reader gets an attitude 4 different times that day, 1 time matt does something about it.

a/n - i don’t know if i love this or hate it, but i hope all of you love it 🩷

10:23 AM

“hey” matt says as he walks around the couch to sit down next to you

you heard him but didn’t reply, you simply left your eyes on the tv “you okay kid?”

“oh my god, i’m fucking fine i just don’t want to talk!”

matt decided to not respond leaving you alone

he steals glances at you making sure you’re actually okay and not lying to him

“the fuck are you looking at” you had noticed his glances as soon as they started, you tried to not say anything but you couldn’t anymore

“sorry” he mumbles

1:56 PM

“i’m going to the store, do you need me to grab anything there for you?” he asks while walking into your bedroom

same thing as earlier, you didn’t respond

“y/nnn hello” you look up at him through your eyelashes giving “what.”

“i asked you if you needed anything from the store while i’m there” you roll your eyes as he repeats his question “and i didn’t answer you. that means no.”

“okay, my bad”

6:34 PM

“FUCK OFF” you yell from behind the door

matt had knocked on your door to ask you if you wanted to come with him, nick, chris, and a few friends to dinner

instead of listening to you he asks his question from the other side of the door

you open your door looking at him saying “i said fuck. off.” before shutting the door right in his face

matt rolls his eyes getting sick of your attitude

11:36 PM

you’re curled up in a ball on the triplets couch

nick went to sleep around an hour ago, chris joined him about half an hour later

now only leaving you and matt in the living room “wanna watch a movie” matt asks

you glare at him before going back to your phone

“are you sure you’re okay?” this time you keep your eyes on your phone “yes? why wouldn’t i be?” your attitude still there

“you have had a attitude all day with me, what happened?” you immediately get out of your position now sitting normally

“i haven’t had a fucking attitude matt! i just want you to leave me the hell alone, is it that hard? it is so easy too hate you sometimes”

matt is done with your attitude

he stands up walking over to you “what the fuck are y-“ you cut yourself off when he bends down gripping your jaw with his hand

“no, absolutely not, that is not what were gonna do, you will not disrespect me” he whispers “if you don’t like it then do something about it” you spit

he moves his hand down to your waist turning you over so you are now face down ass up

you’re about say something but instead gasping as a hard slap lands on your ass “fuck!” your hands grip onto the cushions “so tell me doll, why have you been bratty all day” another hard slap landing on your ass

“i- i don’t know” you stutter, another slap “nope. try again”

“i’m sorry” another slap “that’s not a reason”

“i- i was just i- in a bad mood” another slap “not good enough”

“y- you” another slap “yeah? hows that”

“um, y-your hands, the- the rings, the placement” his hands aren’t slapping your ass anymore, they are now massaging it

“and, your arms” matt wishes he could see the look on your face “what about my arms, what did you like”

jesus what is there not to like “they looked good.. really good, the shirt you were wearing accentuated them”

“mm so i turned you on? got you all hot and bothered? maybe a little needy” he chuckles as you nod your head “you want me to help with that sweetheart?”

you try and push your hips back to meet his front but fail when he uses the grip on your waist to keep you in place “please”

“y’know whats funny? just a few minutes ago you were telling me you hate me, now you’re sitting here in front of me practically begging me to touch you”

you whine at his words knowing he was right

his hands travel from your waist to the waistband of your shorts silently asking for permission “please matt” he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion

he chuckles at the sight in front of him “no panties?” his fingers making contact with your hole rubbing back and forth at a teasingly slow pace “your fucking soaked, is this all from my hands? my arms? what’s it from doll”

“everything, y- you, your arms, hands, words, e- everything, just everything” you whimper at the small movements on your core “you like how i talk too you? thats so cute” when he says his last words he plunges his two fingers inside of you

you moan at the feeling of his fingers slowly gliding in and out of you “faster” you try pushing your hips towards him but once again failed “be patient.”

you groan in annoyance “i swear to god matt if you don’t fucking-“ suddenly his movements are much faster than before

so many lewd sounds coming from behind you “shit!” you could feel the cold metal of his rings brushing against you “what were you saying baby? i didn’t hear you” he taunts

“y- you were going too slow” his fingers speed up more “yeah? this good enough for you? or you want more?” before you could respond his fingers some how went faster

you moan in response

the pad of his thumb connects with your clit, you start to let out a loud moan but he covers your mouth “shut the fuck up” he growls

his fingers glide in and out of you at a fast pace, you could feel every movement he made, every curl he made of his fingers, every vein, every inch

you were going fucking insane, but in a good way

the tips of his fingers kissed your cervix with every thrust, he would pull his fingers almost completely out of you before shoving them as deep as they could inside of you

your moans and whimpers muffled by his hand, you take his hand off of your mouth “or what? your gonna punish me?” you whine when his fingers pull completely out of you with no return

you hear the small sound of matt talking off his clothes “cat got your tongue matty?” you laugh, your laugh comes to a quick stop when his palm makes contact with your ass

“turn the hell around” you compile turn around sitting on your knees, you stare at his dick in awe taking in how big he is “what? cat got your tongue?” he mocks before shoving himself inside of your now open mouth

he doesn’t take his time with you either, he is immediately shoving your face down, your nose hitting his pubic bone

he loved the sight of you gagging around him, you never pull back from him, taking his whole 8 inches in your throat “atta girl, putting that pretty mouth to good use”

he uses his free hand to feel on your throat to find where he is, once he finds where he sits he puts slight pressure on the area “you feel me right here babygirl? feel me so deep in your throat?” you nod your head considering you weren’t able to talk

he pulls out letting you get air for a quick second before shoving himself back in your throat

your makeup is ruined, wet mascara stains all over your cheeks, spit bubbles forming around your mouth, your hair held in a makeshift ponytail

hell YOU were ruined, after a couple more minutes he pulls out again

“lay down. now.” you lay your back down onto the couch allowing matt to crawl on top of you capturing your lips in a heated kiss

he trails his lips down to your neck, sucking, and biting, giving you a few more marks before moving back up to your lips

“i need you” you mumble against his lips “yeah? want my cock inside of your wet little pussy” he lines his tip up with your entrance “yes.. please” he makes one swift movement bottoming out inside you

he pulls your tank over your head before starting his fast, hard thrust, he repeatedly hits a spot inside of you that you didn’t even know existed “s- so good” you moan

he wraps his hand around your throat adding slight pressure

“you feel good?” he taunts you are barely able to even speak “yes.. so so good” he continues pounding into you at a ruthless pace, watching how your face contorts in pleasure

your tits were bouncing with every thrust, just so fucking pretty

“god i could live inside of this pretty little pussy forever” the pleasure you were receiving was a embarrassing amount

you could feel everything, he is the first and only person who can fuck you raw, because now that you know how he feels inside of you, you don’t know if you will be able to stop

“i love this pussy so fucking much.” you clench around him at his erotic words, you start to lift your hips up in attempt to flip you over so your on top

but matt put a quick stop to it by placing both of his hands down on your lower stomach, putting most of his weight on the bulge of his dick inside of you speeding up his thrust “you better stop movin girl”

“i wanna ride it” you whine “yeah? how bad you wanna ride my cock?” it took a minute for you to respond due to all of the moans leaving your mouth “so bad matt, so so bad” your words were barely even spoken, it was practically all moans coming out of your mouth

matt knew what you were saying, but why not tease you more right? “what was that sweetheart? couldn’t hear you” you were fighting to get your words out but it was so hard “i- i wanna- oh my god!”

not only does matt speed up his thrust even more but he also starts to play with your clit, removing one of the hands that was on your stomach

“i’m sorry baby, i didn’t hear you that time either, one more time” matt is very amused with the sight under him “i wanna ri- oh fuck, wanna ride your cock so so bad, matty please!”

he quickly flipped you both over so you were now on top while his back was against the back cushions, you waste no time lining him back up to your hole before sinking down on him

you immediately start bouncing on him “why couldn’t you have been a good girl like this all day, didn’t even have to help you bounce on my cock”

your mouth was in a o shape. your eyes clenched shut “you gonna be good and do whatever i tell you to babygirl?” you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you already

“y- yes sir” the lewd sounds of skin slapping mixed with your moans and matts groans are the only thing to be heard throughout the whole house “mm good, good girl”

he could feel you were close, your noises were getting higher in pitch and closer together, you were clenching him hard “don’t cum” you open your eyes in surprise from being caught off guard

“w-what” you never took matt to be the kind of guy to deny orgasms, but you also more took him to be a soft dom kind of guy “i didn’t stutter sweetheart, you know what i said”

he grips your hips harder than before now controlling your hips, pushing your hips down to meet his as be thrust up into you “my sweet.. dirty.. little whore” he whispers in your ear

you start to squeeze him harder “you wanna cum sweet girl?” his voice laced with faux sympathy and mischief “yes..” he moves his lips to suck right under your ear while whispering “well too fucking bad”

you don’t know how he was able to but he quickened his thrust once again

tears of pleasure and frustration run down your cheeks as your orgasm is dangerously close “please! ill do anything! please just let me cum please!” he could tell you were on the edge of not being able to wait so he pulls out of you completely

“no! no! no!” matt brushes his fingers through your hair as you cry harder “shh it’s okay, you said you’ll let me do whatever i want to you correct?” you mumble a ‘mhm’ into his shoulder

a harsh slap landing on your ass causing you to yelp “correct?” you had never seen any side of matt remotely close to how he is right now, you should probably be scared but you weren’t, you loved it

“yes sir!” he presses a soft sweet kiss on your neck “well i want you to turn around, face down, ass up, and do not cum until i tell you otherwise, understand?” you don’t think you had ever been turned on more in your life

“yes sir” you un-straddle him getting into the position he wanted, now facing the kitchen “you listen so well” he praises as bottoms out, towering over you with his arm wrapped around your neck

he stays still inside of you, waiting for you to get worked up and annoyed “please fuck me matty please” and he succeeded “you need it baby?” hot tears run down your face in frustration “yes..”

“then beg for it” he feels you clench around him at his demand “please.. i need it, i need you to make me cum matt, please” matt was very satisfied with your begging

“aw you do? need me to make you cum, hm?” he teases “yes, please i need it so bad” he pulls out of you almost completely before slamming back into you, a loud, broken moan erupts from your throat

he thrust into a few more times before stopping his movements “i didn’t hear a thank you” instead of matt slapping you on your ass he slapped your tits “t- thank you! please, don’t stop! ill be a good girl i promise!” he restarts his thrust in and out of you, finding the perfect rhythm

“i expect you to keep that promise” your noises continue to get louder and louder to the point nick and chris could wake up at any moment now “shut that fucking mouth”

you whine as he starts to thrust harder “i- I’m sorry, j- just feels s-so good” you stutter “yeah? as much as i love those pretty little noises of yours, we can’t have chris knowing how pretty my girl sounds”

your orgasm starts to re-appear in your stomach “m’gonna cum! please! please let me cum!” your hands grip onto the arm he had wrapped around your throat “have you been a good girl?” your tear droplets have turned into sobs at this point

“yes! i’ve been such a good girl for you! only you!” you were using all your strength to hold off your orgasm “go ahead babygirl, make this cock yours” the band in your stomach snaps, releasing all over him “thank you! thank you! thank you!”

“there you go, thats my good girl” his pace stayed the same over stimulating you

you surge forward from the over stimulation but was quickly pulled back “don’t fucking run from me” he groans “t- too much!” you were sore but you really didn’t want him to stop

he slows his movements to tease you “you want me to stop?” you shake your head vigorously “see, i knew you could take it”

you could hear every moan and groan he let out into your ear

“so tight around me, fuck” matt places his hand down on the bulge in your stomach from his cock “oh my god! matt! too much! too much!” you squeal “i’ll stop when you cum”

your sobs and moans only spur him on “i’m close matt! so so close!”

“you gonna cum with me sweetheart?” you let out a faint ‘mhm’ “come on babygirl, cum” his words quite literally send you over the edge, his orgasm follows right after you stilling his hips with a loud groan

he stays inside of you for a minute before pulling out

you plop down on your back, legs still shaking “so i’m your girl?” you ask “well do you want to be my girl” you pretend to think about it before responding “yeah, i think so”

he places a soft kiss to your lips while he picks you up off the couch “lets go get my pretty girl cleaned up”

[luxurychristmaspudding]

On Call | On Call

part ii

summary: sometimes, frankie wonders what he'd do without you. without your help, your laughter, your friendship, the lunches you pack him. and sometimes, when he's alone, he wonders what he'd do with you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. if that’s a problem for you, keep scrolling. fluff, plenty smutty thoughts, f&m masturbation. mentions of grief/dead parent, heartbreak, and biphobia/homophobia. brief competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). drinking.

reader is a teacher, has hair, and there are some descriptions of outfits, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

wc: 13.1k (normal length fic, my ass)

an: eternal love to @schnarfer for being a constant guiding light and the most wonderful friend. and further eternal love to @din-jarring and @toomanytookas who each make every day a little sunnier.

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

She said call me now baby and I'd come a running If you'd call me now baby I'd come running

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

When Frankie gets home Thursday night, weeks later, you’re working at his dining table.

He checks his watch as he closes the front door gently behind him, looking back at the glimpse of you in the kitchen, brows furrowed. It’s late. Surely you should be in front of the TV, fighting sleep.

His footsteps are quiet down the hall, and he pauses in the doorway. You glance up at his soft hey, and he can feel how tired you are.

‘Hey, buddy.’

Your smile is quiet, kind. You watch as he moves to the sink, collecting two glasses, filling them with water.

‘How’d it go?’

You say it at the same time, and it breaks some of the stillness, both pairs of lips lifting in mirrored grins. 

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

He moves closer and takes a sip from his water, placing yours next to you, gesturing for you to go next.

‘Fine. Totally fine. She was out like a light after the second read. Best kid ever.’

You take a gulp of your water as he raises his eyebrows.

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

‘Magic touch,’ you whisper, ‘Plenty of practice reading kids to sleep.’

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mm. I’m sure my ninth graders would disagree.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, sitting down heavily next to you. He rubs his face, huffs a deep yawn as he slouches further down into the seat. You try not to stare, but he just looks so soft. You want to wrap him up in a blanket and lead him up to bed. Lay him down and press kisses to his cheeks.

‘She drew this,’ you say, pulling out a sheet of paper from beneath your piles of books. ‘Personally, I think it’s a good likeness.’

He laughs, properly, as he takes in the flourish of crayon across the page. It’s obvious where you’ve helped her - sketching the outlines of people, houses - and obvious where she took over - a mess of scribbles, rainbows of colour. The two houses, the fence, him and Lucia - Papi and me - and then the colourful tangle of you next door - Bug.

He traces the lines with his finger, gaze softening, heart swelling in his chest.

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

You smile at him, shaking your head. You fumble below the books again, pulling out a second sheet.

‘No. Looked so cute I drew one myself.’

You watch Frankie’s eyes light as he takes in your drawing. His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass. A tidier version of Lucia’s, one where you’re stood closer together. Like a family. 

He bites his lip, a sparkling swell of joy flooding his chest.

‘Masterpiece.’ He says. You shake your head at him, bashful. ‘Wanna put it on my fridge.’

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

He holds your drawing away from you, pushing Luc’s over your papers.

‘Put Luc’s on your fridge,’ he says, ‘And I’ll keep this one. Deal?’

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

He stands from the table, moving further into the kitchen. When he reaches the fridge, he takes an alligator magnet and pins your drawing to the metal. He steps back, folding his arms. You watch him.

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

‘You’re a soft bastard, Frankie Morales.’

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

You hold out your pinky, and he links it with his.

‘Promise.’

The heat from his hand, so close to yours, is almost irresistible. Your chest heats, and you want to pull him closer, see if he’s that warm everywhere. 

You drop his hand, standing on heavy legs. Your I should get going is muffled through a yawn, and he nods, helping you to gather your things. When you’re ready, he follows you to the door. 

This time, he pulls you into his chest. And he is warm, warm all over, and you could sleep here, suddenly, wrapped in his arms.

‘Goodnight, baby.’ he says, as you step out of his house.

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet. Baby, baby, baby running through your head as you make your way across the grass, smiling to yourself, still smiling when you turn on your porch, facing him stood on his own. Half of his body dimly lit by the glow within his house, shadows across his face as he makes sure you unlock the door and turn the light on safely. You raise an arm to him, and he does the same. You turn it into a flash of your middle finger, and he does the same - grinning to himself at the sound of your giggle across the lawn, cut off only as you close your door behind you. Goodnight, baby.

It still echoes in your mind as you’re pulled from the silken depths of sleep on Saturday morning by the whirring of a lawn mower. You huff, grumble, roll onto your back and press your forearm against your eyes. You have no idea what time it is, but you know for sure that it is too early for whatever this shit is.

Through the dim light behind your arm, you grimace. Your toes are a little cold, body achy like it needs to be stretched out. All fixed with more time spent asleep, except the buzz from outside comes louder now, more incessant. You roll yourself sideways, squinting in the sharper light coming from the window, mumbling to yourself as you sit and push up off the mattress. When you shuffle to the window and pull the curtain aside, you’re surprised. Frankie is up and out already - his front lawn cut into neat stripes - and now he’s gliding up and down yours doing the same. T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

 And there’s something about the way he does it, how easy he makes it look. The stripes, the handling of the machine. How he changes the oil of your car, how he can change the tire on his. The way he drives, hand at your headrest when reversing. How he lifts Lucia, how he chops and slices while cooking. So goddamn easy, brow barely even knotted, just his thick fingers working through any problem they come across.

Heat stirs in your cunt.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it. Him. It’s just that doing so feels… weird. You try not to have detailed fantasies about your best friend next door, feeling disingenuous when you call your good mornings, but certain flashes of thoughts just aren’t so easy to ignore. Stupid ones, like licking his skin when he’s covered in grease, him eating you out over the bed of your truck. Stupid ones like him knocking on your door when he’s done with the grass, coming in to find you reaching for something at the perfect angle in a little summer dress. Thoughts like him bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid, sweat mixing on your skin, the smell of grass flooding your head, tits bouncing in his hands.

Idle thoughts. 

Ones that have you flopped back onto your bed, legs spread, one hand between your slick folds as you work yourself. Moaning and gasping into the heat of the morning, brief flashes of Frankie bursting behind your eyelids. The glimpse of skin and coarse hair you’ve seen when he reaches up to lift something, the shy look he gives you from below his lashes. How soft his mouth looks - what it would feel like on yours, what it would feel like to have him whisper against your thighs right now, telling you how pretty you look, watching your hands before he catches them in his and replaces them with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cresting in an easy, all-consuming orgasm. Your back arches against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and pulses, fresh slick gushing from between your fingers. Your thighs twitch as your circles ease, heart beat slowing in its thrumming as you swallow and pant. The mower is still whirring outside. He must be nearly done.

Frankie cuts the machine as he trims the very last patch of your grass to a lighter shade of green.

He peels his shirt away from his skin, flapping it in an effort to cool down. The cap comes off next, one hand swiped across his forehead, the other running air through his damp curls.

It’s warm. Unseasonably warm, and if he had any sense he wouldn’t have cut any grass today. But this Saturday suited him, and once he’s done his lawn, he may as well do yours. You don’t accept nearly as much as you should for looking after Lucia, so he’s taken to sneaking in more favours when he can. An oil change, lightbulbs you can’t reach, an Ikea chair you couldn’t find the time to set up. He knows you’ve noticed. Scowling slightly at how you can’t say no, quick to find a way to repay him. It’s become a welcome game of tag over the last six weeks. You won’t be outdone. In fact, if Frankie was a betting man -

‘Gotcha something.’

When he turns his gaze from the street, squinting slightly, he finds you bounding towards him. Barefoot, glowing with the remnants of sleep, and fucking poured into the most sinful sundress he’s ever seen. Like a teenager, he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, and he scolds himself for it.

‘It’s hot out.’ You grin, holding out a tall glass of something clinking with ice. His own answering smile speaks something of his relief, his gratitude.

‘Sure is.’

He takes the glass from you, giving it a sniff. You roll your eyes.

‘It’s lemonade. I’m not trying to poison you.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Yet, anyway.’

He nods, as though you’ve confirmed what he’s long suspected.

‘’S the thought that counts. I don’t get a straw?’

You smack his bicep with the back of your hand as he takes a sip.

‘Dick,’ you grin, ‘I’ll piss in it next time.’

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to swallow without spluttering it all over you. He considers for a moment, clearing his throat.

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

You giggle, spinning on your toes like a schoolgirl. He laughs with you, sipping the lemonade, eyes crinkly and affectionate, tracing your lips, the hem of your skirt.

You look up and down the lawn, impressed with his craft. Quiet satisfaction blooms in Frankie’s gut.

‘Looks great,’ you say, pressing his arm. ‘Thank you. You know, you don’t have to do this.’ 

He shrugs.

‘Was out here anyway. Just helping my favourite neighbour.’

You chuckle.

‘Whatever. But you still don’t have to.’

‘Fine,’ he says, pulling a face. ‘I’ll never, ever do it again. I’ll leave you to mow your own lawn, build your own furniture, set your car on fire…’

‘I’m not that bad,’ you laugh, giddy as you step around him. 

‘Bug,’ he says, fixing you in place with a firm hand on each of your shoulders. ‘Baby. I’m not convinced you even know what a wrench is.’

You gasp, genuinely offended this time, and he laughs.

‘Of course I know what a fucking wrench is, asshole. I’ll give you a fucking wrench.’

He laughs harder, and you reach up to swipe his sweaty cap from his head. Before he can grab at it, you’re off, flying in circles across the lawn. He sets his glass down and chases after you, hands slipping through the fabric of your dress. He’s not looking at the plush flesh of your thighs revealed at each stride. Not noticing the way your chest moves, definitely doesn’t see a peek of your ass as you whirl in front of him. He doesn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. Certainly not on purpose. 

He blames the heat, his earlier exertion for why he can’t catch you. Can’t even try to grab you when you zoom by and scoop up his empty glass, when you round the curve of his fence and wait for him to follow you. He’s barely jogging now, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He’s almost at you, cap almost within reach, and then you plant the hand with it in on one of the pickets of the fence, jump, and swing your legs over.

‘That is playing so fucking dirty!’ He pouts, and you cackle at him. 

If there’s one thing you’ve mastered over the last year, it’s hopping the dividing fence. If there's one thing Frankie swears he will not do, it’s swing himself over. Something about his joints, something about his back. Yada, yada as far as you’re concerned.

‘What’d they teach you in Delta Force?’ You tease, ‘Surely it can’t have been any harder than that.’

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

‘You learn to do that in college? How many fences were you jumping?’

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.’

‘Weather boy?’ He wheezes, shaking his head. ‘Not even gonna ask. Christ, you make me feel old.’

You snicker at him again, hopping from foot to foot. He holds out his empty hand.

‘Good game.’

You step forwards, full of faux-graciousness. You take his hand, opening your mouth to snipe something back, but he’s pulling you in too fast for you to process.

And god, he’s wet. Slimy and gross and warm -

‘Get off me, Frankie!’ You howl, and he chuckles, nuzzling his soaked cheek against your forehead.

‘Come over for dinner tonight,’ he says as you squirm in his arms, ‘We’re making pizza.’

You jerk yourself free, and he lets you go, so fucking pleased with himself. You shake your limbs out, trying to erase the sweaty feeling of him.

‘Only if you have a shower first. You fucking stink, dude.’

He begins to back towards his house, and you do the same.

‘I’ll have a shower,’ he says, ‘If you bring a wrench.’

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

‘Fuck you, Fish. I ain’t bringing a wrench. And get your goddamn mower off my grass.’

He giggles, a boyish sound so unlike the burly man it comes from. It makes you giggle, too. 

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

You never do produce a wrench, but Frankie is always thrilled by the other magic tricks you have up your sleeve. He looks forward to the surprise when he comes home from flying - whole Lego cities in his living room, wonky origami in the kitchen, hama beads you’ve dug up from God knows where. The hama beads, he decides, he could live without. He found one in his sock the other day. 

He’s home from work earlier than he thought he'd be tonight. Lucia tucked up in bed, he’d tiptoed upstairs to crack her bedroom door open, watching the rise and fall of her back before stepping in and pressing a kiss to her plump, toasty cheek.

He’s just finishing making coffee when he glances across the kitchen to a mixing bowl that hadn’t been out this morning. Curious as the coffee brews, he moves closer to the pale blob inside, and pulls back the clingwrap. He sniffs the dough-like mass, but comes up empty for clues. 

He pokes a finger into it, grimacing at the damp sponginess before covering it again and wiping the digit on his jeans. He pours the coffee, adding creamer and sugar, before shouting over his shoulder.

‘Bug,’ he calls, ‘Were you making bread today?’

‘What?’ he hears you answer from the living room, and he smiles as he carries the coffee through to you.

‘I said, were you making bread?’

You’re still where he left you, tucked up on the sofa. You reach for the mug he offers with greedy hands, and he laughs.

‘Bread?’ you ask, taking it, brow furrowing before the confusion clears and you beam up at him. ‘Oh! No. I made playdough.’

‘Made playdough?’ He says, plopping down beside you.

‘Hell yeah, baby. Easy as fuck. Do you know it’s edible?’

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

‘Obviously not. You’re a regular comedian, you know that?’

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

He hums at your answer, swinging your legs onto his lap and squeezing your calf.

‘What you watching?’ he asks. You shrug.

‘Some movie. This guy’s a detective tryna take down a drug ring. She,’ you say, flapping a pointed finger at the screen, ‘Is like, a burlesque dancer who’s actually an undercover agent, and he just found out. He’s feeling some type of way about it because he thought he was saving her from some kind of terrible fate, but it turns out she’s totally fine and is actually saving his ass.’

Frankie grins at you, and when you turn your head and catch his eye, you grin back.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

You snort at him. He turns his attention back to the TV.

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

‘Oh! You’ll love this. He’s the gang leader. Everyone understands what he’s saying apart from the detective and this one guy who thinks he’s having the worst trip of his life.’

He belly laughs this time, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and you watch, eyes sparkling, as the hoots of laughter leave his mouth. You lean forward and smack his arm, giggling too.

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, still snickering, ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god. If there was ever a movie written for you, it’d be this one.’

You gasp.

‘I know. It’s insane. And the soundtrack is amazing. So many cool songs. And -’ you pause, waiting for the actress to pop back up on screen, ‘She wrote some for it. Can’t remember what her name is right now, but she’s in a band in real life.’

Frankie watches as the woman welcomes the detective into her dark apartment - pin boards full of pictures and maps, a wall that falls away to reveal all kinds of hidden weapons. She turns to face the other actor, and Frankie cocks his head.

‘She kinda looks like you,’ he says, and you make a noncommittal noise. ‘Sure you don’t have a long-lost sister?’

You chuckle, and the camera pans back to the man.

‘I don’t think so. But he looks like you. Just - maybe… a few years older.’

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

‘Yeah, Fish. Don’t worry. Old age comes for us all.’

He makes a hurt noise, fingers scrabbling for the bottom of your feet, and you shriek, holding your coffee far away from you as he tickles.

‘Stop!’ you cry, ‘Stop! Okay, I’m sorry! You’re so much younger than him. You barely even look thirty.’

‘Barely - even - thirty -’ he laughs, wrestling with you as he tries to stop from spilling his own drink. ‘Not only did you call me old, you’re a liar, too.’ he stops only briefly to put his coffee down, and you manage to do the same before he launches at you with renewed vigour. His hands are all over you now, finding any sensitive spot he can. You grab and dig your nails into his arms, kicking your legs against his lap, planting a foot against his belly to hold him away.

You speak only in squeaks, hacking coughs and muffled laughter. There’s a pressure building in your bladder, and it only makes your movements more desperate, more uncoordinated. You’re begging, pleading, almost in tears through your yelping, and then your heel digs lower than it should. Frankie’s movements cease as he doubles over your legs, grunting out a pained noise as you whip your feet away from him.

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

You try to suck your laughter back through your teeth, but it’s futile. You lean forwards towards him, your palm firm on his back.

‘I’m sorry,’ you wheeze, ‘God, I really - I swear I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he groans, cradling his crotch, ‘There was feeling behind it.’

You snort, pulling his shoulder back so he relaxes into the couch.

‘Come on. It was barely a tap. Lucia could still have a brother or sister.’

He groans anew.

‘I’m in no fit shape for any of that now.’

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate, the same heat flashing through your cheeks. Your mouth works to find some kind of joke, something to take it back with, but you flounder. 

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

A ha! escapes your lips, and Frankie manages a bashful smile, a shake of his head. But your heart is lumbering in your chest, stomach gooey, and the tips of his ears are glowing. 

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

So he says something stupid about the monkey, and you say something stupid back. Layers on layers of silliness until the giggles return and the nerves are tucked away.

You love this kid. You really do. But it’s been a shitty fucking day.

You’ve not cried in the staff toilets since your training, but today every vibe was off, as the kids say. You’d been about ready to head home, forget about any work you needed to do, pull on your pyjamas and crawl into bed. Instead, you’re trying to blink back stupid tears on your way to the elementary school across town.

You’re not mad at Frankie, not even upset. When he’d called to say there’d been a fire at work and he needed to stay to provide first aid, your stomach had dropped through the floor. Your are you okay? felt clumsy, rushed, pushed against his panicked panting through the line. But he was just as quick to reassure you - he wasn’t even close, but one guy had burns and they might need him to cover the last flight out.

And it wasn’t a problem - isn’t a problem. You love spending time with Lucia, want to be as much help as possible, but man. You just wish it wasn’t today.

When you pull up to the school gates, Lucia is waiting for you. Her tiny backpack clutched in her fists, bright smile as she chatters away to her teacher stood beside her. Miss Lopez, Frankie had texted you, just in case.

The car door is barely open before the curly-haired whirlwind is launching herself in your direction with an excited squeal, crashing into your legs. You laugh, squeezing her shoulders before dropping down to her level. 

‘Hey, baby bean!’

‘Papi said you’d come!’ She beams as you stroke her hair back from her face.

‘He sure did. You gonna come and hang out with me ‘til he gets home?’

She nods like her head’s on springs, and over her shoulder you look to Miss Lopez. She has the sweetest face, a lovely smile. You straighten out and offer her your hand. She takes it, palm soft and dry.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ You offer, and she shakes her head.

‘Not at all. You must be Mrs Morales.’ She says.

You choke on a laugh.

‘Oh - I - I’m not, actually. Family friend.’

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

‘Of course,’ she says, ‘The office did tell me. I’m so sorry. It’s just been one of those days.’

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

‘I know the feeling.’ You smile, and she smiles back. Miss Lopez crouches to Luc's level and gives her a gentle boop on the nose.

‘Be good, be safe.’ She says, and Lucia giggles, starting to pull you back to your car. Her teacher waves to you. ‘See you soon!’

You make sure to return it, ushering Luc to the car.

When she’s buckled in, she gently tugs the chain of your necklace.

‘I missed you.’ She says, eyes wide and earnest. Heat pricks behind your eyes again.

‘Missed you too, bean.’

It’s been a shitty fucking day, so you make cookies. 

It’s easy to do, and mostly for you, but Luc is fucking delighted. You make sure to dig out her little chef’s hat, and she whizzes around the lower cupboards grabbing a mixing bowl for you. She loves it, more than anything. She’s a star with shaping, mixing, tasting. On the same page as you about eating the dough, and very content to sit by the oven door to watch them melt and bake in front of her. Easy entertainment, and she’s in your sights as you grade your essays at Frankie's kitchen table. 

You know you’re not being fun. Not mustering the same kind of sunshine you usually do so effortlessly for her, not that she seems to notice. You try to keep a smile going when the cookies are done, packing a small box of them into your bag and eating two each before dinner. She might not finish the whole meal, but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

When you settle down to watch Frozen again later, her head starts to bob half an hour in. You let her fall asleep cuddled up next to you, and when another half hour passes, you extract yourself, gather her tiny body in your arms, and carry her to bed. 

You set her down gently, pull the covers up to her chin, and watch her snuggle down in the blankets, nuzzling into their softness. You feel so weak, so goddamn tired, so disappointed in yourself for not playing like you usually do, for not encouraging her to sing and dance with you, for not reading her her usual bedtime story. It’s important for development at her age, a nasty little voice reminds you, and it just feels like something else you’ve failed at. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn on her nightlight, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her skin is so warm, so soft. You gently swipe the curls from her face.

‘Night night, little love.’

You’re still marking your essays when Frankie comes home. 

You know you shouldn’t be. You know you should have curled up on the sofa or in the guest room like he’s told you to before. Know you should be asleep, barely managing to keep your eyes open, but you feel so fucking miserable, and you’ll be damned if Frankie comes home to you crying wrapped in his duvet.

Your coffee is cold, and a sip of its chill only serves to spark irritation in your stomach. You begin gulping it down, wishing it gone, before spilling some on the sheet of paper in front of you. You curse quietly just as you hear his keys in the door, dabbing at the blotch on the page as he toes off his boots in the hall. Your pressing only seems to be making it worse, little flakes of paper coming off on your sleeve as he enters the kitchen. 

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

You give up, leaning back in your chair to look at him. 

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

‘Okay. Dylan has some burns and Eddie is pretty shaken up, but they’ll both be okay. Ended up taking Dylan’s last flight.’ 

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

You know it’s one of his usual quips. You know he’s not trying to be smart, not trying to rile you up. But you can feel it happening, all the same. 

‘Are you okay?’

He looks at you, assessing. It’s not like you to not snipe something back, not like you to not take the joke further. 

‘I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen worse.’

You nod. He frowns. He doesn’t like it when you’re quiet. 

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

It hangs in the air for a moment. You clench your teeth, frustrated at yourself for the undeserved irritation. 

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

He’s staring at you. You can feel it as you lean forwards again, pen in your hand. The words in front of you blur. 

‘Whatcha reading?’

You should go. You should really pack up before this ridiculous anger bubbles over. It’s not Frankie who deserves it, not the kids who deserve it. You should sleep on it, get some perspective. Fuck, do some mindfulness or something. 

Frankie drums his fingers on the wood when you make no reply, and you glower at him as he moves around the table, eyes fixed on your pile of marked essays. He thumbs the corners, and you bristle.

‘Oof,’ he says, picking up the last paper you graded. ‘F for Fail?’

‘No,’ you bite, ‘F for fuck off, Frankie.’

His eyes flick to yours, surprised, and he’s greeted with a wall of fury which he’s never seen before. It shocks him enough to put him on the back foot. Show his belly. He whistles lowly, dropping the paper back onto the pile, and is rewarded with something akin to the gnashing of teeth. The pieces slot together in his head. The bags under your eyes. How short you’re being. 

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ You hiss, and it’s like you’re an open book for him to read. The flame in your stomach roars to life at the look he gives you. You need to take a nap.

He pulls the rest of the papers away from you, and you try to claw them back, outraged. He grabs your hands, holding them away from your work, and your wrists twist in his grip.

‘Frankie,’ you seethe, ‘Let me go. I’m not fucking around.’ 

But he doesn’t. He’s seen you worked up before, knows you better than you think. Knows this isn’t just the result of a few bad essays, knows this is because of something more. Knows how to make you feel better. ‘Francisco Morales,’ you start, ‘Get your fucking hands off me -’ 

He tightens his fingers again and tugs you up off the chair. It squeaks across the floor as you stand. Something about your attitude sparks a flame south of Frankie’s stomach, and he swallows sharply. Nothing a good hard fuck couldn’t fix, and he blinks at himself, surprised. He drops your hands. Where the fuck did that come from?

‘Get off -’ you growl, and he points at you.

‘Sit your ass on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.’

You set your jaw and glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. He watches as your mouth twists into a scowl before you turn on your heel and stomp through to the living room.

He takes his cap off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and exhaling through his nose before adjusting himself in his jeans. He tidies your papers, puts pens and markers back into your pencil case, closes your laptop, packs your bag. Moves to the cupboard for two mugs, busying himself with tea and coffee as he tries to push thoughts of your furious eyes from his mind. How he could kiss the frown from your forehead, the scowl from your lips, how he could take you apart with his mouth, his cock, make you forget, make you feel better -

When he steps into the living room, you’re sat with your back to him, crowded into a corner of the couch. He places your tea on the table behind you, and his coffee on the other at his end. He lowers himself onto the cushions, relaxing against the leather, watching you. Your shoulders are almost up to your ears, fingers picking at the skin around your nails, eyes on your lap. He waits, chewing his cheek, hands twitching at the way your nails dig into skin.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Your voice is small, quiet. He rubs his eyes and sighs.

‘It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it,’ he pauses. ‘I’m sorry for - manhandling you.’

You huff a breath through your nose, scratch at your knuckle. Frankie feels the worried pit in his stomach start to yawn.

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

You wipe your hands over your thighs, and Frankie wonders whether it’s him. Something he’s said or done. He knows he’s not been looking hard enough for another sitter - maybe you’ve just had enough. His gut twists.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

Frankie waits again, resisting the urge to move closer to you. You need a moment, though everything in his body wants you near right now. The scratching at your knuckle is incessant, and Frankie observes the movement with his own growing anxiety. You clear your throat.

‘All my lessons were shit. Everything was shit. I forgot reports and data drops, and the kids wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I yelled at my favourite class, and almost everyone in my tenth grade group failed their assignment, and I just - couldn’t smile enough, wasn’t good enough for Lucia, and I’m so tired,’ you rush out, pressure building behind your eyes and at the back of your throat. ‘I’m tired, Frankie.’ You whisper.

He’s nodding, hands clasping and unclasping over his lap. 

‘Bug, baby,’ he says, so gentle, ‘Please don’t worry about Luc. Don’t ever worry about not being good enough. You know she thinks the sun shines out your ass,’ he pauses, but there’s no giggle. ‘And I bet your lessons weren’t shit. You had a bad day - that’s all. That does not make them shit.’ He can see your head quirk minutely, hear the thought as though you’d spoken it aloud. Wrong. He keeps going. ‘And things get forgotten, but they’ll get done. Did anyone say anything?’

You shake your head.

‘No. Helen just said they need to be done as soon as possible.’

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

‘So it’s fine. You won’t be the only one, bug. And kids never shut the fuck up. It’s annoying as fuck. You know how long I’d last in that classroom?’

‘Five minutes?’ You say, a tiny curl of amusement in your words.

‘Twenty fucking seconds. You’re a saint.’

He hears it, though faint. A small huh of a laugh. He continues, smiling a little.

‘And fuck the tenth graders. If they shut the fuck up, they’d have done it properly. They wouldn’t have fucked it up. They wouldn’t be making my best pal upset, here on my couch.’

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

‘Maybe they found it hard, though. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job of explaining it all -’

‘Ah,’ Frankie interrupts, ‘Maybe. But were they concentrating when you explained it? Or were they talking football teams and weekend plans?’

The scratching stops. Frankie counts the seconds by the tick of his heart beat as you pop your knuckles and sigh again. You still haven’t looked at him. 

You suck air through your teeth.

‘Football teams and weekend plans. But they still - the results are awful, Frankie. They’re gonna think I can’t do my job.’

‘They’re not gonna think that. They’re not. This is one bad day, one bad result. You’re doing all you can. But you can only do so much, bug. Today was just not your day.’

Your body is vibrating with tension. You link your fingers together, watching the way the skin shifts between the joints.

‘It just - it wouldn’t be so hard if they fucking listened to me,’ you say, still quiet, but angry again now. Upset in a way that makes Frankie’s chest swell. ‘And then I get to thinking - maybe it is me. Maybe I’m just shit at my job and nobody’s bothered to tell me yet -’

‘Enough. You’re not doing this. Of course someone would have told you. Bug, they’re kids. They don’t even listen to their parents when they��re told to defrost the chicken when they get home from school. You’re not doing anything wrong.’

In the low light, Frankie can see you bite your lip, chin wobbling.

‘Hey,’ he says, softly. ‘Hey. Don’t cry. If anyone should be crying, it’s them. You’re doing your best. The least they could do is meet you halfway.’

‘But it’s my job, Frankie. And I care.’

‘I know you do, baby,’ he says, finally leaning forward, squeezing your thigh, ‘I know you do. So - what can we do? You’re tired. Lots of sleep. Long lie in on the weekend. But there’ll be lots of things you can do to turn things around. What can you do for tenth grade?’

You look up, finally. He gets a glimpse of your eyes, panicked, worried, before you turn them away again. You swallow, nod.

‘I guess I could… break it down for them. When I give their marks back. We could write an answer together. And Lucy showed me a really good feedback grid I can print for them all so they know what to work on.’ 

‘Good. That’s good. Make ‘em write it again?’

You twist your fingers.

‘Yeah. I guess so. There’s time. And they could do with the practice.’

Frankie squeezes your thigh again, stroking his thumb against your pants. You huff.

‘There. See? Already fixin’ it. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.’

You quirk your head.

‘You’d think. More like - fuckin’ - difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.’

A slow smile spreads across his lips, despite himself. And when you look up, catch it, you fight to keep your mouth from doing the same.

‘You can laugh, bug,’ he says, ‘That was funny.’

A small giggle floats from between your lips, but it’s still watery. He can taste the salt in the air.

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

Your eyes are back down on your hands, fingers twisting, twisting, twisting.

Frankie holds his breath, heart aching in his chest. He can feel it radiating off of you, something deeper, painful.

‘I just - it made me think maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be, and -’ you cut yourself off, throat tight. You swallow, and Frankie leans towards you. One of his huge hands reaches out to yours, and he gently pries his fingers between your palms, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The tears come without you realising, hot and quick, so many of them you’re startled. ‘And maybe - not as good as dad said I would be.’ You shrug again, wounded, vulnerable. Frankie shifts, the arm closest to you wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Your voice catches, fear and guilt straining against sound. ‘That was the worst part. I felt like I was letting him down.’

‘Letting him down?’ He says into your hair. You feel his lips against your scalp as he speaks. ‘My god, bug. How could you ever think that?’ He squeezes you tighter, and you fight the sobs clawing up your throat. ‘Every day, you go in there and you kill it. No one in that school has ever said a bad thing against you. And you come home with notes, drawings, emails from kids and staff and parents who tell you that you’re making a difference. That you’re helping them learn, you’re making them feel safe, feel like they’re worth the time you give them. Do you know how special that is? Do you know how many of those kids come to you for that?’

A broken noise escapes your mouth, and Frankie begins to rock you gently. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he says, ‘And I know if I’m proud of you, your dad is watching you with his heart about to burst. You could never let him down. Look at you. You are so special.’

You hiccup against him, and Frankie nuzzles his face into your hair. Your tears are hot, damp through his t-shirt, but you can’t stop. You hold to his arms, breathing him in as holds you close. Your legs are going numb, head aching, and you don’t know how long you sit there like that with him holding you. He soothes you with quiet whispers, waves rushing in and out, and once your breathing is back to normal you pull away from him with a great sniff. You laugh at yourself, wiping at your face. He smiles gently back, little crow's feet ceasing the corners of his eyes. 

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

‘Yeah. Just gross. Need to blow my nose.’

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

You shift on the sofa, stretching and popping your joints before hauling yourself up to go to the bathroom. 

‘Do you want anything?’ You ask shyly. He shakes his head. 

‘Nope. Take your time.’

You shut the door quietly behind you in the bathroom, stepping to press your head against the cool tile. You try to empty your mind, but your chest is heavy. Everything that Frankie said, everything that was so easy to share with him. You’d thanked your lucky stars many a time over the last year that he’d bounded out his front door the evening you’d moved in, but now there was something more to it. You roll your head against the cool ceramic and press your fists to your chest. Your dad was a man who believed in fate, in things happening for a reason. Here, in the quiet calm of Frankie’s house, you have a feeling that he pulled some strings. That he knew who you’d need. 

Lips almost pressed to the tile, you whisper to him. 

‘Thanks, dad.’

The words hang in the air, slung out the universe, met with warm silence. Your throat tightens again, and if you close your eyes tight, you’d swear he was at your shoulder. Like you could turn around and he’d be there. 

When the tightness passes, you inhale deeply and turn to the sink. You splash your face with cold water, blow your nose, and make your way back to Frankie. 

He’s right where you left him, the TV on quietly. You flop down into your usual position, and he makes motions for you. You swing your legs onto his lap, and he runs his hands up your shins. Gentle, tender care again. You tip your head back and speak to the ceiling. 

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

‘You should know. You should know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.’

You blink at the lights and shadows above you. How easily that slipped off your tongue. It’s never been difficult for you to tell your friends you love them. Hell, you even said it to the lady who served you at the store the other day. But something about saying it to Frankie feels… different. 

Your breath gets caught in your chest, and then Frankie’s thumbs dig into the flesh of your calves. 

‘Love you too, bug.’

You inflate your lungs at the same time as he kneads a particularly tense spot on your leg, and you loose a quiet groan. You’re not sure if you imagine the minute pause of Frankie’s hands before he thumbs the same spot again. 

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

This time, he does pause. He pauses and prays you don’t feel the way his cock twitched. 

‘Does that hurt?’

You pull your head back up and find him watching you with dark eyes. 

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

He nods, studying your face at the next pass of his fingers. Your wince at the tension, but the relief that follows makes your eyes close. This time, he runs his knuckles over your muscles, and you bite your lip, eyes flickering open to meet his. You sigh. 

‘That good?’ He asks. 

You can’t say anything, nothing that wouldn’t betray the flood of warmth sparking in your cunt. 

Mhm. 

He nods, kneading further down your leg. Your head flops backwards again, lip clamped between your teeth, brow furrowed as you will your body not to betray you. You almost have it, almost, fingers flexing against the couch cushions, until he presses his thumbs into the arch of your foot and you moan. You fucking moan. 

You freeze, teeth releasing your lip as you gasp, but he keeps going. Running his thumbs over and over the sore muscles as you let out quiet little gasps, squirming against the couch, soaking your panties. 

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

You are not fine. Every synapse in your body is firing, every nerve ending alight. You begin to panic, begin to wonder whether you could come from a foot massage alone. Your eyes find his face again, and he turns his head slowly to look back at you, digging firmly into a particularly sore spot. You whine, more pain than pleasure this time, and he presses harder. Hot hurt shoots up your spine, and you whip your foot away from him, breathing heavily. Like dawn breaking, Frankie’s face clears.

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

‘’S okay,’ you murmur, trying not to pant, ‘Just a little too deep.’

You can’t look at him. You’re so sure that this man does everything from the good of his heart, with the express intention of making you feel better, but you can’t ignore how your body is buzzing. He can’t possibly know how turned on you are right now. Just a friend comforting a friend. Just a friend. Jesus Christ.

You glance at your watch and curse, all but leaping off the sofa. Frankie stares after you, panicked.

‘Bug -’

You whirl around to smile at him, realising just how wet you are with your thighs pressed together.

‘It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. I should just - I should really get going.’

He hasn’t moved from the couch, hands crossed in his lap like he’s afraid to move.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers. 

‘Don’t be,’ you say - too brightly, too quickly. ‘Don’t be. I - thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you’re gone. Bag grabbed, barefoot, shoes in hand, flying out the front door, across your lawns, into your own house. Dumping the shoes and peeling off your clothes in the safety of your bedroom. You flick the bedside lamp on and yank open your bedside draw, rummaging around for your vibrator, pressing it to your throbbing clit before you’re even on your bed. 

Your body jerks at the sensation, knees giving out as you moan, long and loud, free hand fisting the sheets as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. Something clatters through your mind, something confusing and guilty, some mix of emotions that stirs in your chest and in your gut, something that tells you you shouldn’t be doing this - again. Shouldn’t be this close to coming already, shouldn’t be so wet, shouldn’t be shaking this hard. Shouldn’t be moaning so loud, so desperately, shouldn’t be thinking of the way Frankie’s dark eyes bored into yours, the way he worked his fingers over your sore muscles, how he’d held you there so you couldn’t escape. What he’d think of you dripping all over his couch from just touching you through clothes. 

You tilt your ass up further, resting your forehead on your arm, feeling sweat gather on your hairline. In your mind, Frankie’s hands are climbing up further than they were before, kneading up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing, all the way until his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. You can imagine how his eyes would get darker as he felt the slick there, so wet it made the closest press of your thighs damp through the fabric. How you’d hold your breath and his gaze as he slipped two fingers beneath the gusset, how he’d sweep them through the wetness there, just spreading it, teasing, enjoying how wet and ready for him you were before slipping both digits inside, easy, so easy -

You clench your teeth against the cry that seeks to force its way past your lips, breath stuttering in your lungs as your body seizes and pulls, cunt clenching and pulsing with your orgasm. Your head slips off your forearm onto the sheets and you curse quietly, betrayed by how easy it had been to come. 

You stand on shaky legs, turning the vibrator off with a click before leaving it on the duvet. You kneel and survey your room, the unread books, the pile of laundry, the freshly ironed shirt ready to wear tomorrow. The window across from you, bare of curtains, looking straight through to - fuck. For fuck’s sake.

Frankie’s bathroom light is on across the dark expanse of midnight grass. You freeze, naked, terrified for a moment that you will see him step into frame and catch you red handed. As if he’d know. As if he’d be able to tell, just from the look on your face, that you’d come so quickly, so easily, to the thought of him slipping his hand beneath your panties. 

But he doesn’t. With an arm over your chest, you whip the curtains over the gaping glass, and get ready for bed. 

Frankie can taste blood.

He barely even registers it, lip clamped between his teeth as he fists his dripping cock in the bathroom mirror. 

He’d sat for a few minutes on the couch after you’d left, trying to will his arousal away, terrified you might have forgotten something and come flying back through the door. Terrified Lucia might be rattled awake and find him to ask what the noise was about. 

When neither had happened, he’d unzipped his fly to relieve some of the aching pressure. He’d turned off the TV and all the lights, something swelling in his chest at the sight of the plate of cookies on the counter, piled high, and hauled his ass upstairs. The movement had made it worse. 

The friction against his cock at every step of his tired feet made him ache fiercely, and he’d forgone his bed, heading straight to the en-suite, where he’d  whipped his t-shirt off and pulled himself out. 

He’s trying to be quiet. Trying so hard as he draws his fist over his tip, spreading the precum down his length, as he twists and tightens his hand. His heart is racing, body thrumming with desire. He’s trying not to think of them, but those sweet, desperate little sounds you made are flooding his mind. He’s fucked. So fucked. 

And he’s weak. 

Weak at the knees at the thought of you laid out on his couch. At the thought of his hands drifting higher, at maybe finding your panties soaked. With his eyes closed, he can imagine your face - shocked, desperate, aching for him the way he is for you. He’d swipe his fingers along your slick slit, and he’d taste them - fuck, he’d give anything to know what you taste like. And when you begged, he’d strip you down and spread you out. He’d lower himself between your legs and kiss every inch of skin he could find. He’d breathe in the scent of you, nose the crease between your thigh and cunt, and he’d eat you. He wants to know what other sounds you make as he takes you apart, wants to lick you from your hole to your clit. Wants to hold you down as you squirm, wants his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. And he wants to make you come. Wants to drink you down as he feels you twitch and pulse beneath him, and then he wants to fill you with his cock. 

He tightens his fist again, barely muffling his groan. He wants to feel you stretched out, gasping as he pushes in. Wants to lean his forehead against yours as he whispers how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, letting him take care of you like this. Wants to see you cry for a different reason, wants to taste the salt on your skin and know it’s him who’s making you feel this good, that it’s only him who can fuck you like this.  

Wants to make you his, wants to feel you come around him, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head - 

He moans as he spills into his fist, cock kicking and jerking with every spurt of milky release that escapes him. Blood roars in his ears and he strokes himself until he whimpers at the sensitivity, panting hotly. 

His mouth is bloody and raw in the glass, eyes wide and guilty. He turns from his reflection in shame, ripping toilet paper and cleaning himself gently, trying not to think of your hands, your mouth, how you might look with his spend leaking from between your legs. 

He throws the paper in the toilet, tucking himself in and pushing the lever. 

He turns after flushing the evidence of his fantasies away, and is fixed with the disapproving eyes of the Star Wars duck on the edge of the bathtub. He pulls a face at it and flips it off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I bet you do it when she’s not watching, too.’ He says, pointing to the sparkly gold one beside it. 

The duck glares back at him, accusatory, and he sticks his tongue out at it as he swings the door open, flicking off the light before stepping out. He closes the door firmly behind him, and leaves the ducks to their domestic.

Frankie snoozes his alarm the next morning, eyelids fluttering against his pillow as he wraps his arms around his tangle of duvet. He’s warm, limbs languid, still in the haze of a sweet dream, a familiar scent hiding behind the edges of sleep. 

He’s almost passed out again when he jerks awake, adrenaline flashing through his veins as he stumbles out of bed and into Lucia’s room. She’s asleep still, groggy as he gently stirs her, mumbling into her teddy about not wanting to go to school. And despite his best efforts, they’re both sluggish, slow, running late as he dresses her and then himself, as he makes breakfast, as he packs her bag, as he reaches into the refrigerator to grab her lunch - 

Shit. Her lunch. 

He throws a frantic glance at the clock, muttering a fuck too quiet for his daughter to hear as she waits behind him with her shoes, ready for him to put them on. He turns and kneels in front of her, placing one foot on his thigh so he can finish getting her ready. He makes a calculation that includes stopping to get her something from the store on the way to school, but there’s just not enough time -

He whips the door open so quickly it startles you, your hand flying from where it was about to knock. Your stomach is churning, heat crawling up your spine with how fucking weird you must have been last night. 

Frankie looks just as surprised to see you as you are him. 

‘Bug?’ He says, paused in the doorway with Lucia hitched on his hip. 

‘Bug!’ She crows, delighted with the early morning visit, oblivious to her father’s rush. You beam back at her, greeting her with a mornin’, mini Morales, before looking back at Frankie. Something in his chest goes gooey. 

‘I made lunch for you both,’ you say shyly, quickly. Frankie’s eyes drop to the two bags you have held out. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time last night. And I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to give you shi- a hard time when you got home. And I’m sorry I ran out so fast.’

Frankie sucks a breath through his teeth, heart rate settling. 

‘You’re a goddamn angel,’ he says, ‘You know that?’

You chuckle a little, looking down at your feet. His heart swoops, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows he won’t, but he wants to ask. 

He wants to ask you why you flew out the way you did. Wants to know why your bedroom light was on so late. Wants to know if there’s some wild possibility you were caught up the same way he was. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls you in for a one armed hug, and with all the gratefulness he can muster, says -

‘Thank you, baby. Luc, what do you say?’

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

‘I packed you extra cookies.’ You whisper conspiratorially, and Luc claps her tiny hands. 

You smile up at her, and she reaches out for the bags. You make sure she’s got them handled before turning your smile to Frankie, and he’s sure his heart stops. There’s worry in your eyes still, and it takes everything in him to not swipe a thumb along your cheek, to not press the fullness of his mouth against yours. 

‘We’re going to the beach on Sunday,’ he says, ‘Do you wanna come?’

Your smile brightens, widens. Relief washes over your features. 

‘Please!’ Lucia joins, ‘Pleasecometothebeach - we're gonna build sand castles and bury Papi and swim and eat ice cream -’

Frankie clasps his hand over her mouth, and she cackles against it, legs swinging against his hip.

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

From the moment you’d felt the silky sand brushing between your toes, it was like the stress of the week had melted away. 

Lucia had grabbed your hand as soon as Frankie had dropped the cooler in the best spot he could find, squealing and running all the way to the ocean with you beside her. Frankie had laughed as he ran to catch up, hitting the waves just after you, sweeping Lucia up in his arms as she shrieked with laughter, swooping her low so her toes swept through the water. You swam and paddled together for a while, Frankie only leaving to grab a ball so you could play piggy in the middle in the shallowest shallows.

Now, laid out on the blanket you’d brought, with the sun warming your skin, you close your eyes. 

Everything feels slow - the tick of your heart, the carousel of your thoughts, the way you drag your fingers through the sand at your side. You’re drifting into the arms of sleep when there’s the soft snick-crack-fizz of a can beside you, and then you’re suddenly thirsty.

You peek through one eye at Frankie beside you, and like he feels it, his eyes flick to yours. He offers you the open soda before reaching into the cooler for another. You sit up, groaning a little, twisting to look for Lucia.

She’s still slumped on the sand throne you and Frankie had built her, now fast asleep. Legs planted, arms settled on the armrests like a stately little Lord. Her head tilted back, tiny sunglasses and flowery sun hat on. You can’t look at her for too long before you get the giggles, it’s so fucking cute.

Frankie follows your eyes, mouth lifting in amusement, raising his eyebrows at you.

‘We should take a picture. One for her 18th.’ 

You giggle, and he takes a sip of his drink before flopping down beside you. You take a long pull from your own can before doing the same, turning on your side to face him. Frankies fights to keep his gaze steady, something he’s been trying to do all day. Trying to avoid the skin that had been revealed to him today, trying to avoid how soft you look, how comfortable, how gorgeous. How your skin would taste, how it would feel against his. He closes his eyes.

You watch him. The strong sweep of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. The scruff of his beard, the bare heart-shaped patch before the line of his jaw. Your eyes sweep lower - the wide expanse of his chest, golden skin that seems to go on for miles and miles. It makes your mouth run dry. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before in the hot Florida summer, but up this close, it’s different. The soft band of his belly, the smattering of hair above the waistband of his trunks. The silvery bud of a scar above his hip. 

When you glance back to his face, he’s watching you. Your eyes dart down again.

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

You nod, and reach out your hand. Slowly, softly. Frankie holds his breath, stomach tensing.

You run the tip of your finger along the puckered edge of the scar, and he shudders. You pause, untacking your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

It doesn’t hurt. It does tickle. And there’s a burst of heat beneath his skin where your fingers graze him.

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

You hum quietly, swiping your thumb against it tenderly. He watches you, mouth parted, heart burning. It doesn’t look like a scratch, but you’re not one to pry.

The moment is broken by a soft coo behind you, and Frankie’s eyes lift to it. You roll onto your back.

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, gesturing to Lucia, ‘She just looks so cute.’

You smile breathlessly, a little flustered. She’s gorgeous. So tan and smiley and stunning.

‘Gets all her looks from me.’ Frankie jokes, and you roll your eyes. The woman smiles.

‘I think you mean her mama.’ She says, nodding to you before continuing on her stroll. You’re still too taken aback to correct her, trying to loosen your tongue before Frankie takes any offence. He laughs beside you, and you roll back to him to apologise -

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

It’s not what you were expecting, and the shock of it makes you laugh, too. You land a soft punch to his arm, a grumbled shut up shot from where you bury your face in the sandy blanket.. But it feels good, the ease at which the jokes come. 

To think, there’d been a night on your porch not long after you’d moved in when you’d mentioned the name Annie and clammed up, panicking about what questions would follow next. The name of your ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancee - had been something which only really existed in your mind at the time. Known, of course, to the friends you’d left back home; friends who had loved her, loved the two of you together. But soured by the reaction of your extended family, the people who had voiced their disgust at who you'd loved, who had been so quick to turn their backs in the face of your happiness, the first you’d found since your dad’s passing. It had made your stomach twist. 

You’d been worried about Frankie’s reaction, couldn’t bear to think of the first friend you’d made - your neighbour - having the same look of distaste - or worse - intense curiosity. 

But he’d done neither of those things. Had marked it with a quiet oh before asking what she was like, where she was, what had happened. You’d told him how you met in college but weren’t brave enough to ask her out until after graduation. How she was an engineer on the east coast - kind and funny and eager to watch you succeed. 

You’d been sparing with the details about how it ended. The breakup had still been a raw nerve, something you had no real desire to discuss. Something which you only found to be the case more and more the longer you spent around Frankie. And then he gave you further reason to be less afraid of what he’d think, whether he had the want to judge.

‘Sounds like my ex,’ he’d said, ‘We were friends first, too. Benny.’

You’re snapped back to the present by Frankie rustling around in the cooler.

‘Have something to eat,’ he says, ‘You’re looking a little shaky.’

You’ve been asleep for most of the way home. 

Hair blowing in the wind of the journey, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, and something about this - the three of you in Frankie’s truck, Lucia babbling to herself in the back - feels so right.

He’s loathe to wake you. Wishes he could bottle this moment; the sand still clinging to your skin, Luc’s bright smile in the rearview mirror, but you stir all the same when he slows and pulls into his driveway. 

You stretch your arms and yawn, smiling sleepily at him before twisting to look back at Lucia.

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

‘You were asleep!’ She chirps back, and Frankie chuckles.

‘Sure was,’ you grin, ‘Can’t keep up with you.’

You insist on carrying the cooler into his house while Frankie unbuckles her. He holds her hand around the side of the car before she pulls free of him, clattering into the house after you in her sparkling sandals. She passes him in the hall, arms full of toys as she speeds back out to the grass out front, and you smirk at him around the doorway of the kitchen. He shakes his head at you.

‘I don’t know how she does it.’ He says. You grin.

‘She’s four. Give her a few more years.’

He chuckles as he swoops in behind you, pinning your body between his and the counter. He digs in the cooler as you close your eyes against his body heat.

‘Want a beer?’ He says against your neck before pulling away.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

When you’re settled on his porch, Lucia mimicking the sounds of the dinosaurs she has splayed across the lawn, Frankie bumps your shoulder.

‘You should have asked for her number.’ He grins. You turn to him, still a little sleepy.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

You roll your eyes at him despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

‘They’ll get stuck like that, you know.’ He says.

You nudge him back, a little harder.

‘You should’ve asked,’ you chuckle. ‘Gets all her looks from me.’

He snorts.

‘Nah. I wasn’t even on the field. Think you mean her mama.’

‘Should have given her the old I’m the babysitter line.’

He laughs. 

‘God. Imagine. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to tell the guys the next time they ask if I’m seeing someone.’

Your blood heats, a soft pounding in your ears. Imagine. Imagine.

You roll your head on your shoulders.

‘Are you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘Seeing anyone, I mean.’

Frankie shrugs beside you like it’s no big deal.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I kind of… swore that all off after Benny. Didn’t wanna go through it all again. Wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for her,’ he says, gesturing towards where Lucia is playing on the grass. He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Getting my heart broken again.’

You know how it ended - before it had really begun. A tentative feeling between friends; Frankie falling hard, Benny unsure about the new step. Caught up with the nerves you remember so well in the new turn of discovering himself, scared by the ripples caused within the tight knot of their group of friends. It had been hard on Frankie. Not made difficult by his brothers in arms, who, to all intents and purposes, had seen it coming - but because he was so clearly a man who loved hard. With all the goodness in his heart. It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

You watch him as he speaks. The soft sunlight illuminating his curls, turning them golden, chocolate brown, little streaks of grey peaking through. His eyes are bright and flecked with hazel, his lips soft and full. When he talks, they are shaped with sound, with emotion. Expressive and beautiful, moving with the crinkles at his eyes, the frown lines on his forehead. Something pulls in your chest, and you reach out to hold his wrist just above his beer bottle. He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

You can’t ever imagine breaking Frankie’s heart.

He licks his lips, eyes flitting to your parted mouth before resting back on yours.

‘Are you?’ He asks.

You breathe a laugh, something breathless in the sound. You retract your hand and look away from him, back to Lucia, watching her toddle around with her dinosaurs. He studies you, and it makes something spike at the back of your throat. You hate when he gets you like this; like he can see you better than anyone else ever has. 

‘No,’ you say. When you look back at him, his brows curve in a furrow at the sight of your sparkling eyes. You offer him a small smile, take a deep breath. ‘Think I’m the same as you,’ you shrug, ‘Not built to get my heart broken again.’

Frankie dares an arm across your back, squeezing the shoulder furthest away from him. He pulls you into his chest, palm pressing your bicep in comforting sweeps.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

‘Don’t be,’ you reassure him, ‘I’m not - cut up about it like I was.’ You sniff and pull away from him a little to look in his eyes. ‘It just stays with you, like you said before. The hurt and the shock. Everything you had planned. I think it’s just… hard to remember you won’t have that. Hard to not have that future, hard to feel like you’re enough again.’ You smile softly, and he answers with his own. He knows, he understands. ‘Just… really thought I was gonna marry her,’ you whisper, looking down at your hands. ‘Day I asked her, every time I saw that ring on her finger, thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. And it made me so… happy.’ Frankie swallows thickly beside you. The feeling of it, of what you’re telling him, so painful, so raw for both of you. ‘And when it happened, when it fell apart… it wasn’t big. She just told me - real kind, real patient about it - that she didn’t love me anymore.’ Frankie breathes deeply when he hears the catch in your voice, the sting of it. 

Your eyes are on Lucia, but you’re so far away that it worries him. He wants you here, safe, having beers with him on his porch, giggling on the steps.

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

You quirk your head, sighing. ‘Spent a long time tryna figure out what I did wrong, but there was never an answer,’ you shrug. ‘I’m glad she ended it, though. Despite it all. I’d have never forgiven her if she’d stayed.’

A strained hum pulls itself from Frankie’s throat as he watches you lean forward to pick at the grass by your feet. He clears his throat, studies your profile carefully.

‘Do you still love her?’ He asks, voice low and hoarse. He finds, to his surprise, that he’s terrified of the answer.

You frown, slowing your pulling.

‘No,’ you say. ‘I have love for her, but we don’t speak. I don’t want her in my life, but I wish her the best. I just found it… hard to rebuild.’

He thinks back to the day you moved in next door, the bright smile that he hadn’t realised didn’t quite reach your eyes, how you’d been a little thinner, looked so tired. How you’ve changed over the year since, so warm, so full of love and light and energy. How you tear around the lawn with Lucia, how you laugh at his kitchen table, how you fit into his side when you’re watching movies. 

Something swoops in his gut, something so huge and unbalancing that his breath comes shallow, that his ears buzz and his vision blurs. A feeling that makes so much - too much - sense.

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

When he turns to look at you again, it’s with a heart that knows - really knows. He sees everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you will be. Knows you for all your good days and bad days, has seen you at all hours, could hold every piece of your fractured heart in his hands and meld it back together again if you let him.

Your eyes find his. He watches your brows raise a fraction at his expression, watches them push together in a question. 

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

Your eyes don’t leave his.There’s a pressure behind them, a pull in your gut, a skip of your heart. Something on the tip of your tongue. 

Frankie’s eyes slip to your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat, and the world stills. The sounds of the evening, Lucia playing, fade to almost nothing.

If you tip your head, you think he might kiss you. 

A small, wild ball of energy crashes into Frankie’s chest, and the moment slips through your fingers. Frankie lets out a quiet oof, wrapping his arms around his daughter. A giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and he grins at you, but his eyes linger. Lucia turns her tiny face up to him, and Frankie rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

‘Strawberry laces.’ She whispers, and you both laugh.

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

‘Alright,’ he says, shifting her out of the clutch of his arms and onto the step beside you, ‘Sit tight, mi amor. I’ll be back in a minute.’

The front door isn’t even closed behind him before Lucia is crawling her way into your lap, wrapping her arms around you. You tuck your hands against her back, pulling away to look at her.

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

‘The dinosaurs.’ She says, gravely. You nod, just as serious, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘That’s good. Bugs have a lot going for them.’

She leans back to consider you for a moment, her face scrunching up in the low lying sun.

‘Miss Lopez called you Mrs Morales the other day,’ she says, ‘Does that mean you and Papi are married now?’

Your heart lurches in your chest, head spinning a little. You laugh, disbelieving. From the mouths of babes.

‘No, baby,’ you say softly, and her face falls. 

‘Why not?’

You can feel your heartbeat in your toes. You pray Frankie is struggling to find those strawberry laces.

‘We’re - we’re just friends, Luc. People who get married are usually a bit more than friends.’

Lucia frowns.

‘But you are more than friends,’ she insists, ‘You’re best friends. And you love each other.’

Jesus Christ. You squeak out a hm, trying to remain noncommittal. Lucia begins to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

‘How do you get married?’

‘Well,’ you swallow, ‘Usually you have a big party. With lots of friends and family there. And you have to ask each other first.’

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

You choke out a laugh. Frankie’s eyes on yours, on your mouth. The moment caught in time.

Idle thoughts.

‘He could. But I don’t think he wants to.’

Her wide, brown eyes shoot to yours, hands stilling on the chain of your necklace. A feeling creeps up the back of your neck.

‘He does,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re his favourite person, apart from me. He told me s- Papi!’

She cuts herself off in an excitable screech, and you scrunch your face at it. Luc is wriggling in your lap, lips open wide in a toothy grin. Her hands reach out in fists as Frankie rounds your shoulder, the plastic packet of strawberry laces crinkling in his hand. 

‘Open your hand,’ he says, and Lucia obeys, her fists flattening to palms face up. Frankie drops a small handful of the sweets onto them, and she dances on top of your thighs, shoving two in her mouth at once so she can chew them up like snakes disappearing between her teeth.

She flashes you another grin, red blended with white, and wriggles backwards, running off back to her dinosaurs. 

Frankie settles next to you again, offering you the packet. You take it, fingers scrabbling for sugar as the two of you watch her. For a second, it’s like you’re a family. Like you can feel the weight of a ring on your finger, a ring that was supposed to be there some time in the last six months. You shake your head. A silly thought.

Frankie licks his fingers beside you, and you turn to watch him. The sound of the pop as he releases them from his mouth, the smile that dances across his lips as he watches Lucia, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. An involuntary smile crawls across your own lips.

‘Got another favour you can do for me,’ you say, still chewing. 

‘Hm?’

‘Sink’s a little leaky. Think you can take a look?’

You hold the packet of strawberry laces out to him, and he takes one, lowering it into his mouth. You giggle at the way his tongue curls around it. He grins back at you.

‘Sure can, baby. Luc is at a sleepover Friday night. That work for you?’

‘I think it might, Morales. I think it might.’

[bussyslayer333]

‘cause you’re so smooth

summary: phoenix invites the boys to her salsa class, big mistake.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, suggestive nature lols, me not knowing anything about salsa

my return to writing with a fic i teased over a year ago!! i hope you all enjoy

ps requests r open :p

“Nix, if you think I want to spend my Sunday evening learning to salsa dance with a bunch of soccer moms then I think your concussion hasn’t healed properly.” Jake sasses in response to Nat’s invitation.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Nat but Sunday is my chill out day, when else am I gonna beat Fitch’s ass on cod?” Fanboy reasons.

Natasha knew it was a stretch asking the boys to join her salsa dancing class, but she thought it was important for them to get out more. At the moment, seemingly all they did was trudge from work to the Hard Deck over and over again.

She sighs, “it would be good for you guys to get out more, y’know?”

“I’ll go, Nat,” Bob smiles, nodding to her from where he is perched on a stool behind her.

“Thank you, Bob.” Nat nods back to him, “the rest of you can suck it.”

“Hey!” Bradley yells as he appears back from the bar, beers in tow, “what did we say about using that type of language?”

“Shut up Dadley,” Nat rolls her eyes as Bradley flicks his tongue out before handing her a beer.

“As much as I’d truly love to attend that class ‘Nix, I’m already a salsa pro and I wouldn’t want you to feel embarrassed about your skills,” Bradley declares, before taking an obnoxious sip of his beer.

“Yeah fuckin’ right, and my dad is prima ballerina,” Jake snorts.

“Let’s not discredit Papa Seresin, I saw him tear Boogie Wonderland up at your sister’s wedding.” Coyote nods.

“Yeah and even that shit was better than what Rooster could pull off,” Jake decides.

Bradley only shrugs at the jibe, a lazy smirk plastered onto his face, which serves only to piss Jake off more.

“Dance off?” Fanboy proposes, standing to head to the jukebox.

“No?” Jake frowns.

Fanboy drops back to his seat with a sigh, “was worth a shot.”

Nat shakes her head with a snort and brings the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Look it’s fine, I’m just saying I think you guys would enjoy it!” She reasons.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun!” Bob adds happily.

Nat can only sigh at the lack of response.

Bob is already waiting outside the community centre when Nat arrives, looking down and nervously picking at a thread on the bottom of his gym shorts.

“You ready?” Nat questions, trying to alleviate his nerves.

When Bob looks up his brows unfurl and he lets a small smile sip onto his face.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do this!” He pumps his fist a little awkwardly.

Nat can only chuckle in response as she makes her way to the room at the left of the reception where the class is held. You’re stood by the door chatting with one of the older women in your class when Nat comes into your view.

“Natasha! How’s my best student?” You tease, stepping towards her.

“I’m great, thanks!” Nat blushes before gesturing to Bob, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.”

Bob sucks in a breath as you finally lock eyes with him. Shit. You were beautiful and those leggings were doing you an undoubted amount of favours.

Sadly, Bob had an incredibly annoying habit he was unable to shake. It was known as “embarrassing himself in front of beautiful women” and that seemed to strike him just as you stuck your manicured hand out to shake his own.

The breath that Bob had sucked in caught in his throat which was drying up increasingly as he took you in, leading to an unprecedented coughing fit doubling him over. What seemed to make it worse was your shocked gasp and immediate move to lean over him and pay his back gently. Bob tried not to focus on your cleavage directly next to his face and instead on regulating his breathing. It was proving difficult, especially when he could hear Nat cackling at his misfortune from behind him.

Once almost fully back to normal, you squeeze his bicep and chuckle,

“I don’t think I’ve ever quite literally taken someone’s breath away!” You giggle, voice oh so sweet.

Bob can’t even let himself feel embarrassed with the way your soft hand feels on his arm.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he cringes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly.

Nat is growing seemingly agitated by Bob’s lingering near the door so she steers him forwards away from you.

“Best get set up!” She announces, dragging him into the room.

The classroom is spacious, a high ceiling and large windows on the left wall. The wall facing the door is covered in mirrors that amplify the light in the area.

Before Bob can speak up again, two men who look to be in their late 40s rush over towards Natasha. They’re the complete opposite of one another, the first who reaches for Natasha is tanned and has dark curling hair with flecks of grey throughout.

“Natasha! Darling it is so great to see you!” He exclaims with a slight accent, holding her hand in his.

The other has embraced the grey in his hair, he’s relatively pale but has clearly kept his physique, he nods towards Bob with a glint of something in his eye, “I thought he wasn’t your type?”

Nat snorts, clueing Bob in finally on what the two men were hinting at.

“My best friend, boys don’t worry,” she teases.

“Thank God, I’ve been trying to set you up with my niece for how long now?” The dark haired man smiles.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m always busy at the moment,” she shrugs apologetically before turning back to Bob, “Bob this is Marco and Luke.”

They both shake his hand and size him up as they do so, the grey haired one (Luke) declares.

“He’s cute, Nat, where have you been hiding him?” He prods.

Bob exhales at the approval and watches as Nat breaks out into laughter. “Away from you!”

Marco and Luke break into laughter alongside Nat and Bob can’t help himself but join. Just as they’re all catching their breath, Bob jumps out of his skin again as he feels his hand on his shoulder.

“Boys, we’re being welcoming to our newcomer aren’t we?” You hum.

Your hip is touching Bob’s and the soft skin of your hand on his shoulder has him malfunctioning, luckily he isn’t forced into replying (or choking) this time.

“Of course we are beautiful, what do you think of us?” Marco gasps in faux shock.

“I think that I know what you two are like,” you roll your eyes before making your way to the front of the room.

You send Bob a sly wink before finally beginning, “It’s so great to see you all again!”

Everyone in the room blurts out greetings at you as you begin, “We’ll continue on from last week,” you strut over to the stereo in the corner and a latin pop track floats out into the room and Bob vaguely recognises the tune.

Marco and Luke are quick to start fluidly moving around the floor space and Bob notices that others in the room are doing the same. You make your way quickly over to him and place your hand on the small of his back, straightening his posture.

“I don’t expect you to get it immediately,” you smile into his ear, “we’ll start off with some basics and turn variations.”

Bob hopes you can’t see the nervous perspiration already forming on the back of his neck and nods a little too eagerly at your words. He looks back to Nat for some encouragement but she’s already dancing and chatting with a group of women next to the tall windows.

“I don’t bite,” You giggle, shocking Bob who looks back to see you holding your hand out for him to grab onto.

“Sorry, I’m not the best dancer-” Bob’s self depreciation is swiftly disrupted by you placing his hand on your waist and the other in your own.

“All the more for me to work with,” you smile, and Bob feels himself smiling back.

Although a tad clunky, Bob manages not to step on your toes and has some surprisingly fluid hip movement which intrigues you ever so slightly.

By the last ten minutes of the class, Bob is twirling Marco around as Luke and Nat chat to you about technique.

“What were you nervous about?” Marco probes Bob, “you’re a natural!”

Bob can only chuckle shyly in response and he glances over at your frame. Marco seems to notice Bob’s longing glances and slowly stops their dance.

“Go for it.”

“What?” Bob splutters.

“She’s been making googoo eyes at you the whole time mister, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Bob reels for a moment at Marcos admission before straightening up. “You think?”

Marco rolls his eyes. “I know.”

Before Bob can reach you you’re already strutting back towards the stereo to lower the volume of the music and gather everyone’s attention.

“Thank you so much everyone! You’ve all been brilliant today and I can’t wait to see you next week!” You beam at everyone.

People begin to gather to chat and start to disperse and you begin to gather your own belongings, stopping to make conversation with others as you do so. Luke and Nat join Bob and Marco with sly smirks on their faces.

“So…” Nat begins, “You’ll be coming back next week I presume?”

Bob flushes at Nat’s knowing look. “Yeah,” he looks to you, “definitely.”

Bob didn’t mean to let it slip. Like seriously, his lips were so sealed. Air tight.

“But HOW hot are we talking?” Mickey slurs over the nth shot he’d done with Bob at the Hard Deck’s happy hour.

So maybe not air tight.

It was Thursday evening and the rest of the daggers had politely declined drinks with Fanboy, but Bob (the ever dutiful friend) had accepted, hoping to be in and out within the hour. But alas, here they were.

“Fuckin’ smoking,” Bob mimes an explosion with his hands as Mickey nods enthusiastically to his answer.

“I choked on air when I saw her and almost popped a boner during a Justin Timberlake song,” Bob continues to ramble, once given the chance to talk about you he clearly wasn’t going to stop.

“And when is this class?” Mickey slumps closer to Bob, tequila breath hot on his neck.

“Ummmm, Sunday evening at 6 I think?” Bob nods, remembering the details Nat had sent him in a text the week previous.

“Good to know,” Mickey hums, reaching his hand forward to signal for another round, knocking someone’s drink over in the process. “Oops.”

Bob is quick to drag Mickey away from the bar top after that, realising they’d probably overdone it a tad for a weekday evening.

As the cool sea breeze hits Bob’s flushed face whilst him and Mickey wait outside the Hard Deck for their uber, he can’t help but let his mind drift to you, what you were potentially up to, do you teach other classes during the week? Do you dance professionally? God, you definitely could, the way your hips moved-

Bob shook his head, as if to get the image of you stuck in his mind out. He looked to Mickey hanging off of his arm, he was looking to the ground and shaking as if to stave off the imminent vomit that was about to leave his mouth any second now.

“Let’s get you home man,” Bob pats Mickey on the head, dragging him towards their Uber pulling up.

“Hey, Bob!” Nat yells across the parking lot, catching the back of her friend’s tall frame leant against a pillar near the front of the community center.

When Bob turns around, Nat notices two people next to him who she was not expecting to see.

“Fitch? Fanboy?” Nat cocks her head to the side. “I thought you guys were too busy to come?”

Nat’s accusatory eyes meet Bob’s sheepish expression as he awkwardly clears his throat.

“We heard the teacher was hot as fuck.” Payback shrugs.

Fanboy giggles next to him in excitement, “I’ve been practicing-”

“Bob I swear-” Natasha begins, finger pointing right into Bob’s chest.

“Sup, biatches!” Jake yells, alerting everyone of his and Javy’s presence. “Who’s ready to get their salsa on?”

Nat spins around on her heel, eyes shooting daggers into Jake and Javy.

“Bob, I’m going to kill you.” She states, eerily calm.

“Oh come on Phe! You wanted us here just last week!” Jake exclaims, walking round to slap Bob on the shoulder and greet Payback and Fanboy behind him.

“Yeah! When I wanted you guys to get out and do something productive! Not fuck my lovely salsa teacher, who by the way, was not socialised by wolves! So will absolutely not be charmed by any of you fools!”

With that, Nat turns and walks into the community center, leaving the boys to sprint in after her.

“At least this can’t get any worse,” Nat mutters to herself, pulling the door to your studio open.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nat stills in the doorway, the rest of the boys behind her peeking their heads in.

“What now?” Bob asks guiltily.

Nat opens the door fully and allows the men behind her to file into the studio, where her fellow classmates are stood in a semi circle whooping and hollering at you dancing in the middle with none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

“Fucking Bradshaw,” Jake scoffs, pushing his way ahead whilst checking himself out in the full length mirrors that line the opposite wall of the room.

“Chicken never told us he could dance!” Jake yells over the latin music filling the room, successfully interrupting your dance with Bradley.

Bradley’s head whips to the side at the sound of that familiar ear grating voice. He gives you an apologetic look as he walks over to begin squabbling with a man you presume he knows. The commotion between the boys alerts you to the presence of Natasha and Bob as well as three other unfamiliar men. When Bradley had introduced himself with a smirk and a drawling voice as a friend of Natasha’s you had to wonder whether all of her colleagues were so handsome and by the looks of it, they were.

Nat is quick to walk over to you with an apologetic smile. “I want to apologise in advance for the next hour. They are insufferable.”

You look behind her to where the gaggle of men she calls her close friends are stood, you can see Marco and Luke itching to get their claws in and you have to giggle. This should be interesting.

After instructing the rest of your class to continue practicing the routine you had been working on, you figure it was only fair to come and personally consult your newest joiners.

As the boys (and Nat) notice you wandering towards them, they all begin to elbow each other like school boys giggling amongst themselves. Bob and Nat can only keep their embarrassment internal for so long.

When you come to a stop in front of them, the man you’ve come to learn as Jake smiles dazzlingly and stretches his arms above his head,

“God it is hot in here!” He begins to reach for the bottom of his shirt, aiming to impress you with his toned stomach.

“The A/C is on full blast dumbass.” Nat swats at the back of Jake’s head, causing him to drop his shirt again and rub at his temple. “Ow!”

Snickers fall from Javy and Mickey, who quickly straighten themselves up when they see you casting your eyes over them.

“As I said to Bob last week, with all my new starters I’ll begin with some basics for you guys and then we can ease into a routine,” you smile, heading towards Bradley and Nat.

“Since you two already have some experience you can help me teach!”

Bradley preens under your praise, already assuming the role of teacher’s pet, whilst Nat looks mildly irritated at having to teach her imbecilic friends how to dance.

“Alright guys! let’s partner up!” you shout at them, giggling as they all rush towards you, you note how Bob lingers back behind his more extroverted friends and grin.

“I should clarify, I meant with each other.” You shoo them backwards and watch as they couple up.

Mickey and Reuben clap each other on the back and Javy and Jake nod at one another leaving Bob, stood on his own. You saunter towards him and grab at arm, dragging him to the front with you.

“Looks like you’re with me,” you tease.

“Uh, who do you want me to partner up with?” Bradley scratches at his head obliviously.

You cock your head to the side with a confused laugh.

“I hate you so much right now,” Nat spews, gripping Bradley’s arm and pulling him into position with her.

“Oh, yeah. Right, sorry Nat.” Bradley chuckles.

Your lessons continues with explaining how someone will have to take the lead and the other will follow, and you wander around positioning their hands and postures correctly.

“Javy, you are like a brother to me, but your hands are too fucking low right now.” Jake grits through this teeth.

“Right! Ha, sorry man,” Javy’s hands shoots back up towards the middle of Jake’s back.

Bob is still apprehensive when he places his hands on your waist, but you’re quick to affirm him in his position. Leaning towards him you whisper, “don’t worry you’re still my favourite.”

A smile graces his face at that and he relaxes in your grip.

“Right guys! We’re gonna start with some turns and variations now!”

You quickly learn that trying to wrangle these men is proving difficult, as Payback almost spins Fanboy into a wall after zoning out stating at how your hips moved.

“I’m good bro, don’t worry,” Mickey is quick to readjust himself, hoping the room stops spinning soon.

You can’t help but laugh when Javy attempts to dip Jake to the floor in a move he thought would impress you, but it seems he forgot to account for how tall and heavy Jake is, as he goes toppling down with him.

“Fuck dude! You’re heavy!” Javy groans, rubbing his knee. Jake clearly didn’t take kindly to his words as he shoves back at Javy childishly.

“Boys! Come on get up!” You snap, trying to sound stern but still fighting off giggles.

Jake and Javy are quick to get back on their feet, but you catch them in your peripheral poking and pinching each other when they think you aren’t looking.

Even Bradley who was so light on his feet when he was showing you his moves earlier, is clearly distracted, constantly stepping on Nat’s feet as they practice variations.

“If you step on my toe one more time, Rooster I swear to God, you will not see daylight again,” Nat threatens.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! She’s just so…” Bradley trails off as he watches you dance slowly with Bob, stopping every now and then to correct him kindly or answer questions from others in your class.

“I know! And you guys are scaring her off by acting crazy.” Nat sighs, moving back as she senses Bradley’s feet heading for her toes again.

“I mean I wouldn’t say crazy…” Bradley scratches the back of his neck.

“Well I walked in to see you spinning her around like you’re a pro on dancing with the stars so maybe you should reevaluate.”

“You think I’m that good?” Bradley smirks to himself.

“Oh shut up,” Nat rolls her eyes and looks back to the rest of her friends around the room.

Payback and Fanboy were continually stumbling around in circles as they each try to catch your eye, pissing off everyone else in the room as they bumped and knocked into others. She caught Marco and Luke’s judgy eyes flicking back and forth between her and her friends and groaned.

Jake and Javy looked either one wrong move away from fucking or fighting, Nat couldn’t really tell.

God this was embarrassing.

Luckily, your voice rings out across the room, interrupting her moping.

“Thank you guys for today! And Thank you to my newcomers!” you gesture to the group of men stumbling over each other and stifle a laugh.

“I’ll see you all next week!”

Your regular attenders start filing out slowly, some coming over to chat and collect their things. You can see Nat trying to drag her friends away out they seem intent on lingering long enough to catch some time alone with you.

“You guys might as well go, she clearly wants me.” Jake shrugs, pulling the front of his shirt up to wipe his face.

Mickey is quick to dispute, “Are you kidding me? I twirled like a ballerina, I’m so in.”

Nat is moments away from body slamming her friends who she once loved when it goes silent around her. She figures you finally made you way over.

“Hey guys, thanks so much for joining today! I’m really sorry I’ve got to get going but um- ”

You pause and sense eyes on you.

“Bob, I was just wondering if I could get your number?” you smile, walking towards him and squeezing his arm. “You know, to talk about how we can improve your technique,” your reasoning clear as day even with your coverup

“Yeah! Yes, of course I mean,” Bob composes himself, taking your phone with shaking hands and typing in his number.

“Great,” you wink, retrieving your phone, “I’ll text you.”

You end with that, sauntering past the group and waving goodbye to Nat with a knowing look.

Everyone seems stunned by your words, but mostly Bob who blinks slowly, seemingly still in shock by your acknowledgement.

Nat finally breaks into laughter, doubling over at the confused faces of her other friends.

“Man!” She shouts through her giggles, “you just cannot make that shit up!”

The grumbles around her don’t even phase her as she goes to pick up her bag and head for the door, a group of downtrodden looking men following her and Bob with a newfound pep in his step.

“By the way Rooster, how come you actually are so good?” Nat asks as they make their way into the parking lot.

Bradley stills, silent as he contemplates answering.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to not go searching for anything.” He looks around at his friends.

Following their nods he continues, “I used to compete professionally, when I was like 13, my mom forced me to.” Bradley cringes at the memory of his tween self in sparkly shirts his mom always hand picked out for him in the most hideous colours.

Bradley looks back up to see Jake grinning mischievously at his phone, and his stomach drops.

“Is this you?” Jake smirks, turning his phone around to show everyone an old video on youtube titled.

SALSA NATIONALS 1999 - BRADSHAW / DONNA SUMMER HOT STUFF

Bob suddenly felt as though his coughing fit over you wasn’t the most embarrassing thing he had to witness anymore.

a/n: it is great to be back gang xx i’ve missed writing and ofc i had to bring back the bob agenda!! it’s what i stand for :) i’m thinking mayhaps a part 2 where i explore the dynamic between sexy salsa teacher and bob bc atm this was just a chance for me to make fun of the daggers 😣

i hope you enjoyed reading and tysm!!

pls reblog, comment or drop me an ask and tell me what you thought!! feedback means sm to me considering i’m a lil rusty

anyways thank u again for reading!!!!

- honey xoxo

[rishiguro]

59; “I DON’T WANT TO DIE”

iwaizumi usually did his best to enjoy the visits to you. he made a conscious effort to show up whenever possible - which lately seemed to be almost every day - and he made sure to soak in every second he got to spend with you.

who knows how many he had left with you.

even on bad days he was always a hundred percent present, waving away any thought of work or other issues and focusing entirely on you. that didn’t mean that he didn’t confide in you or shared anything with you, quite the opposite actually. he was aware of how much you enjoyed listening to him talk - or even rant - about his day.

however, today was different.

you were quiet, more quiet than usual, and barely even looked at him. if you did say something, it were mostly one worded answers and everything came out snappy.

honestly, iwaizumi didn’t want to think about it too much. he couldn’t possibly imagine the situation you were in currently, but he was sure that you weren’t avoiding him like that on purpose.

he couldn’t deny that it made his heart hurt though.

after the n-th minute of awkward silence between the two of you, with you staring at your phone with such an intensity that it was obvious that you forced yourself to not look at him for even a fraction of a second, iwaizumi couldn’t stand the lingering tension any longer.

leaning forward, he put one hand on top of your thigh. “love?” he asked. “what’s wrong?”

you still didn’t even glance at him as you replied monotonously. “nothing”

you clenched your jaw subconsciously, a small movement that your boyfriend didn’t miss. he closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself, allowing a small but compassionate smile to appear on his lips.

“it’s okay. tell me,” he whispered, his free hand reaching out to grab yours.

“i’m fine,” you muttered again as your boyfriend intertwined your fingers, tugging softly at your hand.

“talk to me,” iwaizumi urged again.

“i said i’m fine,” you insisted, your voice however not sounding as convinced as you wanted it to be.

swallowing thickly, he looked down at his hand, fingers softly grazing your thigh. “i heard that,” he says as he looked up, tilting his head as he carefully examined your facial expression. “but i know you’re not”

in return you turned your head completely away from him, muttering at him. “shut up”

skillfully ignoring your words, iwaizumi stood up from the chair and sat down right next to you, his shoulder touching yours. “listen, i know you’re not okay. that’s alright,” he whispered with a low, but warm sounding voice. he stopped for a moment, swallowing down the small lump in his throat. “love, let me be here for you”

he expected many reactions.

iwaizumi saw you shut down completely, going nonverbal for who knows how long. he could see you try to change the topic, ignoring whatever he said until he allowed you to shift the conversation. and he saw you open up to him, confiding in him and revealing whatever was plaguing your mind right now.

“i said shut up!” however, your boyfriend didn't see you get up so quickly, stepping away from him and raising your weak voice. he wouldn't have imagine you to - literally - turn your back on him, your hands clanching on your sides.

and yet for a brief moment, he was able to catch a glimpse of your face. his blood ran cold when he saw your painful expression, like you were about to start crying. he could see your form trembling and heard you breathe so heavily.

his lips pressed together, iwaizumi took a couple of seconds to himself. he knew he couldn't press the topic like this further. he had been so caught up in trying to figure out just what made you so unresponsive to him that he seemed to have forgotten the bigger picture of things.

you were chronically ill, your health seeming to worsen every day, the "good days" a rarity by now. you were in hospice for heaven's sake, all while everybody elses' lives seemed to go on just fine. friends, family, partner; everybody was able to live their normal life, while you were stuck in a facility to be taken care of; all while teh dream you had followed your whole life was to take care of others.

to give something back.

and now you literally couldn't do this anymore.

taking a deep breath, he took a moment to regulate himself, before softly saying your name. “look, okay, i’m not forcing you to talk to me,” he began slowly, “and please don’t yell at me when all i’m trying to do is be there for you”

“i’m sorry,” you whispered back, dropping your head in shame and slowly turning around. while you might still not look at him and nervously played with your hands, he couldn't help but feel relieved when you at least let your body turn back to him.

nodding slowly, iwaizumi reached out to you and you didn't even hesitate to grab his hand. he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. “i know you are, love” the two of you relished in uncertain silence for a few moments before he decided to speak up again. “do you want me to go?” he asked in a hushed voide. when you looked at him with wide and concerned eyes, you saw the compassionate look on his face, allowing you to breathe out calmly.

whatever you would say, he would be okay with it.

“no,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “i don’t want to be alone”

your boyfriend couldn't help but feel relieved, his smile widening ever so slightly. “okay” he tugged softly at your hand. “come here”

almost like on auto-pilot you obeyed his command, not coming to a stop until your stood right at the edge of the bed, your knees touching the mattress.

“we don’t have to talk,” he muttered, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of your hands, before he raised his head again, looking at you. “but i’m here” you nodded, subconsciously biting your inner cheek. “don’t try to push me away. you know i won’t let you”

slowly your vision grew hazy, tears filling your eyes. you couldn't help but to clench them shut, your fingers tightening around iwaizumi's with every shaky breath you took.

he didn't rush you. he simply sat there, his eyes on you as he continued to caress your hands with his thumb, no matter how tight your grip got.

after you let out a shaken, but calming breath, you finally managed to find some words. “i don’t want to die, hajime,” you whispered. “i don’t want to die. i’m so scared”

iwaizumi didn't even notice that his jaw clenched as did his fingers around yours with every word you spoke. "and i don't know what to do anymore. i can't sleep, i can't eat, i can't even get dressed myself. i need someone to be near me when i'm just showering, because sometimes i can't even stay on my feet for long enough"

"i'm going to die, no, i am dying! and there's nothing i can do about it. nothing is working, nothing is helping" your knees buckled underneath you, making you stumble and ultimately fall. thankfully, your boyfriend had his arms securely around you, pulling you into his lap.

"i don't want to die," you managed to choke out as you pressed your face in his chest, letting your weak body be cradled by him.

iwaizumi desperately wanted to say something. offer comfort, be there for his partner. his heart ached seeing them like this, crying in his arms so helplessly. clenching his own eyes shut, iwaizumi swallowed thickly.

was there even anything he could say?

“you’re not going to die” the words sounded hollow, like they had no meaning.

like he didn’t believe them himself.

“you’re going to stay right here with me,” he muttered into your hair, “and you’re not going anywhere”

iwaizumi waited to believe everything he said. he wanted to picture a future with you by his side, more energetic, positive, healthy.

or at least not stuck in here.

at night he dreamed of a time where the two of you would grow closer every day, move in together, maybe even get married. he yearned for many more happy memories with you.

but he felt like this dream wouldn’t become reality.

evanescent

/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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[ollie-lolly]

Sensational

Obey me Satan x Gender neutral reader

Contains: suggestive themes

Authors note: thought I’d make something for my birthday, enjoy, Lovies🩷 This is kinda a part one so if you like more please let me know!

It was a pretty normal conversation within Satan’s finally clean room. Having spent 4 hours cleaning up the variety of books littered around the floors and walls. And sure half of the time it was Satan telling you “Don’t touch that one!” And “Wait stop!” But somehow no spells or curses were made active. You wiped the sweat off of your forehead as you felt your clothes stick to your skin due to the piles and piles of books that needed carrying. “Go sit down, I’ll get us some ice tea.” Satan said as he gently placed his hands just under your arms, pressing gently against your rib cage. “T- thanks.” You could only say between soft pants, finally sitting down on the fully clear chair that had been littered with books and papers for months. Satan looked at your face, what he would do to get that same face under him. Lovingly whispering his love for you, as he would pin your wrists and fuck his love right into your- “Satan you okay?” You interrupted his toughts. “Yes I’m fine thank you for asking.” He said as a slight flush to his cheeks came rushing. You returned a soft smile. “I’ll get us that ice tea.” He said as he quickly left the room before you could hold him back by asking him again how he felt. His mind focused on making the sweet ice tea you love so much. Occasionally drifting off on how he would pleasure you until you couldn’t take anymore. He knew that’s how it always went for him, sweet love for his interest first then the dirty thoughts that would make Asmodeus proud. He tried to blame it on him for months. Claiming he “Used his power to cause chaos.” But Asmodeus was far from home most nights as Satan let his toughts drown him in deprived need for pleasure. Satan walked back to his room once he was done making his drinks. Once he came back in he saw your sweet face illuminated by the moonlight behind you. Your eyes met his, for a little longer then intended. Eventually breaking the eye contact to gently pet the seat beside you for him to sit. With no words exchanged he sat down. Sipping on the ice tea as you did too. This wasn’t an awkward silence, but not an uncomfortable one either. He preyed he wasn’t going crazy within his own mind. Your hand slowly placed itself on his thigh as you drank your ice tea. A soft shiver went up his spine in enjoyment. “How does that feel?” You asked, feeling slightly bolder when he didn’t push you away. “Hm, if I may request I’d like something more.” He softly chuckled trying to push the excitement down a little. Satan slowly stood up, placing his knee besides your hip in your seat, placing his hand just under your chin. “May I give you more then just a soft sensation?” He said almost whispering before he gently placed your ice tea down on the table resting beside the chair you sat on. Your body slightly trembled in excitement and beginning arousal. “I’d love that.” You said under your breath before he kissed you. Slowly tracing your spine as he slipped his hand under your shirt. When you let out a soft sound of pleasure he went in for something a bit more intense, by pressing his hardening bulge between your legs as he pulled you closer by your thighs. Your hand wrapped around his neck, softly biting his lower lip. Softly groaning against you when you gently ran your hands through his blonde locks of soft hair.

[dark-elf-writes]

Izuku as a child of Apollo just having a million big brothers/sisters and most are heroes is hilarious. None of fhem are letting their baby brother be bullied. Nope.

Oh god, Snipe, Hawks and Hizashi would be the most protective siblings and if you went ‘bad Inko’ i can juat imagine that custody battle. Hizashi ‘married to high school sweetheart’, Hawks ‘commission agent’ and Snipe ‘has a gun and no issue threatning people’. It would be hilarious.

The children of Apollo normally got along.

Okay well that wasn’t exactly true, but very rarely did they try to shoot at each other or scream the other’s eardrums out which put them head and shoulders over some demigod half-siblings. They weren’t Ares kids after all, they could keep it together.

Or they could, until their newest sibling came along.

Izuku Midoriya was an anomaly, a rare inheritor of their father’s knowledge aspect though just hearing them talk Hizashi swore up and down there was some music talent in there somewhere, and the kid always seemed to know exactly where villain or monster attacks would happen like they could see them coming… even if they took that knowledge and used it to run towards the fights rather than away. They didn’t have the usual look of an Apollo kid (Hizashi was the only one of them that had drawn that card) but it was nearly impossible to miss if someone knew what to look for, and the three heroes definitely knew what to look for.

But Izuku different from a typical Apollo kid or not wasn’t the problem. No the problem was that none of them could agree on what to do with them.

“I’m married!” Hizashi hissed, careful to keep their voice at a normal volume. The last time they had let their quirk slip against one of their brothers they had been dodging feathers for a week and they had no desire to repeat the experience. “And I’m a teacher! I have the best claim to a stable home life as any of us.”

Keigo narrowed his eyes, a feather twisting around his fingers as his annoyance grew. “I’m the Number Three Hero! If any one of us could take care of a kid it’s me!”

Snipe (why their brother had decided he preferred his hero name even in the off hours Hizashi would never understand, but they would honor his wishes) toyed with his gun. The fact that the barrel was pointed away from Hizashi at the moment did nothing to comfort them. It didn’t really matter where he pointed the damn things when dear old dad gave him the ability to curve his bullets.

(Hizashi would be more jealous that both of them got some sort of telekinesis while Hizashi could only be considered slightly above average when it came to anything involving projectiles but really they thought Voice was the coolest.)

“I am the only sane one between us.” Debatable, but again Hizashi wasn’t very interested in catching a bullet even if their brother had swapped them out for nonlethal rounds. They had seen the damage he could do with nerf bullets and the rounds he had were a far cry from those. “And I’m also a teacher. So don’t give me that look Zashi.”

They smoothed their face, cursing themself for letting their annoyance show. Normally they were better than this but their brothers knew just how to get under their skin.

“Um,” All three of them jolted having forgotten their sibling was still there watching them with those wide green eyes so full of wonder. “You don’t have to fight over me. I’m fine. Really.”

They weren’t. The kid’s sleeves weren’t nearly long enough to hide the bruises and fresh burns on their arms and Hizashi was pretty sure they had seen the kid limping before they had finished the fight. As much as they wanted to be picking a fight with their brothers right now… healing first.

And Hizashi was the best healer.

(Ha!)

“You’re not fine, listener,” Their voice went gentle, low, the soothing rumble under it already encouraging healing raven as they knelt beside Izuku. “Our brothers are just being stupid. It’s pretty common experience.”

“Hey!”

“Zashi!”

They smiled, bright. Blinding to anyone who didn’t also have sunlight in their blood. “C’mon. We can head back to my place and get you patched up. Any other… arrangements can be made after you’re healed.”

“I’m coming too!”

“And me!”

Shouta was going to kill them… but at least Hizashi could shove their brothers at him first for canon fodder.

Izuku looked like they might argue but…

“Ours,” they said. “You said they are our brothers.”

Hizashi ran careful fingers over the kid’s cheek. “Ours. We Apollo kids have to stick together after all… even if some of us are annoying.”

“Coming from Queen annoying that says a lot,” Hawks mumbled. Hizashi made a mental note to curse him into speaking in lyrics later. They were pretty sure he had a meeting coming up where that would be particularly annoying.

Izuku looked between the three of them, eyes burning like the noonday sun as they hunted for something in their expressions. But eventually they smiled. “I’ve always wanted big siblings.”

Shit, Hizashi thought. They were going to end up with the most complicated three way custody agreement they just knew it.

[unbreakabledawn]

"Why the fuck do I have to go in?"

Somewhere between the dumpster and the sleeping homeless guy, a scrawny rat scurried forward and out the mouth of the alley before Tim or Jason could kick the undoubtedly pest-carrying vermin away.

Tim wrinkled his nose, and turned back to Jason, gesturing down at himself in response. "I'm dripping wet and there's blood on my gloves. It would be rude of me to go in and make the minimum-wage workers mop the floors after me at three am."

"And whose blood is that?" Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster. There was a faint scratching and rustling sound coming from inside it, and Tim heard the occasional squeak. Great. Hopefully those were normal Gotham rats and not some sort of mutated killer vermin. This night was tiring enough already without the added mutant monster outbreak.

Tim glanced at his hands. Sewer water trickled from his cape. "No idea. I think it's Killer Croc's, but I'm not entirely confident it wasn't from a person he might have mauled, or perhaps eaten."

"Awesome. Really got my appetite going."

Tim raised his hand and counted on his fingers. "Spoiler and Batgirl are stopping the robbery at Twenty-fifth Street, Nightwing is taking the Mad Hatter back to Arkham, the brat has no manners--"

"I heard that!" a shrill voice shouted in his comm.

"--and B is B. Can you just go and get the food." Tim was approximately six seconds away from gnawing on the brick wall of the alley.

“Give me a hundred. Christ," Jason hissed, flinching away from the dumpster as a loud squeal erupted from within. It sounded suspiciously like a rat eating another rat.

Tim sighed. “The food’s already paid for, including tips.”

“It’s not for the food, it’s for me. Pay up or you can spend the rest of the night fueling up on B’s cardboard nutrition blocks. I do think he puts actual cardboard in them, by the way. Also that guy’s not breathing, you should call an ambulance.”

Tim and Jason both looked over at the homeless guy slumped in the corner of the alley. “He’s fine, I took his pulse five minutes ago,” Tim said, not at all sure that it was still there.

A rumbling snore emerged from the man. Jason tilted his head, but Tim couldn't read his expression underneath his mask. After a moment, Tim sighed again and fished a hundred dollar bill from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Jason. He shrugged his shoulders, took the blood-flecked bill and brushed past Tim to head inside, fucking finally.

Tim stood at the corner and listened to Jason kick the door open with much more force and drama than a fast-food establishment required.

"Pick-up for six Bat-idiots," he heard Jason say in his mask-modulated growl. There was a piercing scream from inside and Tim resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his blood-sticky hand.

When Jason reappeared, Tim eyed the take-away bags with suspicion. He couldn't count the items without opening the bags, but Jason wasn't interested in handing them over and set a course for the fire escape without even looking at Tim.

“There’s supposed to be seven orders,” Tim said slowly, following him to the roof. He felt a pair of rat-sized eyes tracking their ascent and was very grateful rats couldn't climb ladders.

“I’m not an idiot. Where's B, anyway? He used to get burgers for me on patrol all the time, he should be the one running your errands, not me.”

"Robbery on Morrison Street."

"At this rate, food's gonna be cold before anyone else makes it here," Jason said, sitting down on the roof's ledge and holding out one of seven burgers to Tim. He pulled off his sullied gloves before accepting it.

"Next time I'll issue a time-out notice to the criminals of Gotham while I'm putting in our food order."

"That's a great idea. You do that, and I'll eat B's fries."

"I heard that," growled a voice over their comm line.

-

based on a prompt by @unshatters-your-teacup! "the batfam stopping mid-patrol to get food somewhere" which i kind of mangled lol but i did have fun.

i'm trying out prompt fills to practice regular writing, because i'm having a lot of trouble with my actual wips. my inbox and my dms are open if you want to send me one (primarily batfam, superman, or batman, both ship and gen, but i can be flexible) though i can't promise i'll be able to write it <3

[spicyhotteokkay]

JONGHO FLUFF

My first drabble! I am still not fully confident in my writing abilities, so any feedback is deeply appreciated. Hopefully you guys like this and thank you for reading if you do! ❤️

TW:none, besides me involving my weird fear of storms

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were fine, stuck inside of your claustrophobic house due to a horrible and irrational fear of storms. What you weren’t fine with was that you were scared shitless every time you saw a lightning strike or heard the thunder clap. It made you whimper like a defenseless child. It wasn’t so bad until your best friend heard you on the phone and told you to stay there and wait, then promptly hung up. You were hopeful he was just going to call you back. Nope.

You were surprised when he actually showed up at your door twenty minutes later soaked to the bone.

“You don’t look happy to see me, Bear,” Jongho mumbled to you as he carefully made his way past you. You just stood there confused, until a loud clap startled you and your response was to squeal and drop.

“Bear, come on. Let's warm up. I’ll take a quick shower and we’ll sit and cuddle with some TV, okay?” He was gently trying to get you on your feet. He did, but you didn’t talk as he was guiding you around your house. “Words, Bear…”

“Oh, right, sorry, I’m just gonna go get changed and get you some clothes,” you mumble and slither away to your room, only to hear him sigh and start the shower shortly after.

It helped that you had secretly stolen a bag worth of clothes from your best friend every time you went to his place. He would also spend days in a row with you, so he had a small set of drawers in your apartment. You wore his clothes more often than your own. You then changed into a pair of his boxers and a university sweater, one he'd been searching for for months, but it was perfectly oversized on you, so you had decided that it was yours. Next, you grabbed a change of clothes and towel for Jongho and carefully brought them to the bathroom. You knocked quietly “Here are some clean clothes, Big Bear. I’ll put your clothes in the washer,” you say and carefully set everything down. “Thank you love, I’m about to be done in a second,” he replied gratefully.

You didn’t even think about it when you left, but when you started the laundry, the specific name he used in place of ‘Bbear’ made your core flutter. You developed a crush on Jongho when he helped you find a place after you graduated college. He had even paid his friends to help you move and made sure you weren’t more than ten minutes away from him and his roommate Yeosang.

Yeosang quickly realized what was going on with you two. To make sure that you didn't put out signs ofn your very obvious crush on Jongho before you were ready to, he'd discreetly snap his fingers at you when you'd been staring too long.. ‘What if he actually felt the same?’, thoughts going miles a minute, reliving every little memory and detail of your current relationship with him. ‘He isn’t normally affectionate,’ you thought. ‘Yeosang said Jongho is only really like that with me? Either that, or Yeosang was teasing me again.’

Pouting and not even thinking about the fact your crush was in your house, you didn’t realize he was calling for you until his arms hugged you from behind. “Bear, what’s up?” He asked as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Huh? Oh nothing… I was just thinking about something silly.” Pouting, he saw and stayed quiet, knowing he’d get it out of you later. He then quietly pulled you onto the couch with him so you could watch TV together. He left for a moment, only to come back after grabbing three of your favorite blankets. He sat down and situated himself before wrapping one blanket around himself, then he's pulling you into his side and tucking you with the second. Finally, he laid the third over both of you and turned on your favorite show: Abyss.

“You finally let your guard down and wore my sweater I've been looking for,” he chuckled. If it wasn’t for the fact he actually caught you, the chuckle would’ve made you whine in protest. You mumbled a quiet “fuck you,” to which he laughed at even more. “Bear, at this point I don’t know why you don’t just tell me you're gonna take it, you know I can’t tell you no..” he pointed out. You just nodded, enjoying the moment. That is, until the universe decided to reign terror on you again as the thunder shook your house. Jumping, you somehow bury yourself further into his hip and wrap your arms around him.

Your body decided to hate you as well, subconsciously whimpering once you heard another loud clap. “Bear, you gotta breathe slowly.” He wraps his arms around your shrinking frame and rubs circles on your back, trying his best to comfort you without making you any more uncomfortable. If only he knew that’s what you wanted… “I’m sorry, I just hate this,” you shakily whispered out. He sighed and carefully pushed you away from clinging on him. You pouted for fear he was going to kick you off of him, but he shocked you by holding your chin and cupping your face instead. “Look at me, Bear…”

Looking up with the biggest possible doe eyes, you do as he says. You barely paid any attention to the next clap of thunder and flash of lightning because your brain short circuited from how close Jongho held your face to his own. “That’s my good girl,” he smirked softly and gave you the softest peck.

The final thing you got out of today was a somewhat overcome fear of storms and your now boyfriend, who you learned had liked you for just as long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @lunarrobotgirl @yuyubeans @yuyusuyu @bethelighthalazia @ja3hwa

[shaunashoochiebae]

Last Resort

Word count: 803

Warnings: none!

a/n: swear to god i posted this already. i’m going insane but it’s okay. also was a request x (tagging @imsososolesbian because he agreed this masterpiece should bless yall once again)

Sitting in front of the fire in the quaint cabin did nothing for your stress. Sure, it helped with the cold but not your stress. You just felt anxious and hot which is much worse than anxious and cold. It was winter now, months after the plane crashed and everyone was losing hope. Well, everyone except one.

Taking slow, deep breaths you shut your eyes, imagining life back home. Family and friends still hoping and praying you’d be rescued soon.

The cabin was quiet, how it normally is. Natalie and Travis were out hunting. Misty was being herself, licking Coach’s ass. Their relationship bothered you- fuck, it bothered everyone. Everyone could see how uncomfortable it made Coach, but what could you do? You have to cope somehow, you thought.

The door to the cabin swung open and in came the Messiah. Lottie. You opened your eyes and looked back towards the door. She looked worn out, which wasn’t really unusual at that point. Her eyes met yours and she came to the fire and sat down opposite you.

“Hey, Lott.” You greeted her, a small smile playing on your lips. She gave a nod back, her eyes too focused on the fire. You cleared your throat and looked at her expectantly. She snapped out of her trance and looked back at you, “Hm?” “I’m just really stressed,” you started to explain. “I know I don’t believe in all of your.. magic powers or whatever, but I dunno, maybe you could help me?”

Lottie gave a nod, “Do you want to try meditation? That usually helps me.” You agreed, of course. Not much of a last resort, but damn it was close. “Give me your hands,” Lottie told you, putting her hands out for you to take. You abided, taking her hands in yours. You exhaled deeply, and closed your eyes.

“Just relax.” She whispered as she closed her eyes herself. You nodded and let go of your muscles. Unexpectedly, a strange noise came out of her, “Ommmmmmm….. Ommmmmmm…. Ommmm..,” she continued. You slowly opened an eye and looked at her, pure focus on her face. “Uh, Lott?” “Hush, you mustn’t speak,” she responded, eyes still shut. “What are you doing exactly?” You asked her. “I’m focusing, please don’t talk.”

“Now, breathe with me.. Ommmmmmm….” She started again. You sighed loudly but shut your eyes again and chanted along with her, “Ommmmmm… Ommmm….” After a good minute or two, you started giggling to yourself. Lottie opened her eyes and stared at you, “What’s funny?” You shook your head, still giggling, “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“This is supposed to help with stress, so stop laughing,” Lottie stated, closing her eyes once again. “Okay, sorry,” you answered, taking another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “Can I ask you something?” You asked in a whisper. “Mhmm..” “So, where exactly did you learn this.. method of meditation?” You asked her, egging her on. “I’m not sure. It’s just, like, a natural instinct.” Lottie replied, truly believing you were interested.

“Did it come to you in a dream, Lott?” You questioned her, slowly opening your eyes. “I guess you might say that. It’s a natural instinct, like I said. Ommmmmmm….. Ommmmmm….”

“Our guidance counsellor used the same methods when I was stressed about my college applications.” You stated, just above a whisper. Lotties eyes opened quickly and she stared at you, “What?” You shrugged, “Or at least something similar to it.” Lottie groaned, “What, you don’t believe these methods work? Fine, c’mere.” She patted the floor in front of her. “Sit there.”

You scooted over to her with an eyebrow raised, “You gonna hit me?” you asked her. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, “No, I’m not. Turn around.” You turned around so your back was facing her. Lottie placed her hands on your shoulders and squeezed hard, “Ow?” “Sorry, it’s supposed to help,” Lottie replied, sounding a bit guilty. “Is it actually gonna help or are you just gonna give me sore shoulders?” Lottie shook her head, “No, it really will help.”

Relaxing into her grip you gave a sigh of acceptance. “That’s it, just breathe,” Lottie encouraged you. She slowly rubbed your back, whispering to you, “Breathe in.. and out. In.. and out.”

The cabin door swung open and in came Natalie and Travis, a deer held on their shoulders. You opened your eyes, quickly looking at the pair, “Game?” “No, it’s not game. We actually carved it out of wood. Yes, it’s game,” Natalie answered you sarcastically. You stood up from the floor and walked over to the dead deer, “It’s a good size. Should feed us for a day or two,” you stated. Lottie came up behind you and nodded.

Lottie squeezed your shoulders as she stood behind you, “I’ll help you later, okay?”

[darling-dovey]

Summer Daisies 4

CHILD!Alastor x CHILD!reader

Part 3.5

TW: racial tensions, lynching, abuse, gender inequality

Not proof read

Alastor had gotten more testy since you’d began school. Constantly asking about the other children and the lessons you’d been receiving. You had tried to make other friends but after the close bond you shared with the curly haired brunette….you felt like the childish friendships of the other children were lackluster.

You’d become a social outcast. Too forceful for a girl. Wild ideas, and not tempered enough to keep them to yourself. Honestly, school was miserable.

Each day was spent with your eyes trained on the window, counting down the minutes for the bell to ring. After walking home you’d drop the back pack before racing out into those woods, finding Alastor there. His smile nervous each time until you bounded into the clearing, it then finally softening into a genuine look.

But today you didn’t want the normal routine. You’d decided to try something new.

“I don’t wanna play this game, I want to play hunter and prey again!”

“I won the race, I get to pick!” You yelled back. Stomping your foot.

You were tired of always playing boys games and somehow Alastor always talked you into playing things his way. This time you’d challenged him to a race.

You had been certain that if you won the right to pick fair and square he would have to let you pick!

“But you cheated! You didn’t stay on the path and you took a shortcut.”

“You never said I couldn’t.” You argued back. He played dirty all the time anyway, if he can pull your hair in hunter and prey why couldn’t you cheat just this little bit.

His eyes were angry and his bottom lip was jutted out before he finally looked away and nodded with crossed arms. You felt bad at tricking him but not enough to change your mind. You were finally getting to choose the game!

You squealed before launching yourself at him in a hug.

He flinched as always before slowly relaxing in your hood, his anger slightly abated by the slowly becoming routine gesture.

“Fine. What do you want to play?” He mumbled.

“Husband and Wife.” You say quickly, releasing him from your hug to grab out the rings your older brother had whittled for you from your overall pocket.

“Ew, gross, no! I don’t wanna play husband and wife!” Alastor said quickly and vehemently.

“You promised!” You cried indignantly, clutching to wooden rings to your chest.

“That was before I heard what you wanted to play. No. No way!” He said again firmly.

You sat heavily, your gaze going to the rings you still had clutched in your small palms. “No one wants to play it with me.” You said pitifully, wiping your eyes. “All the other girls at school play it, their dads buy them shiny rings and the boys play it with them at recess and no one wanted to play with me……is it because I’m icky?” You ask looking up at him in childish confusion.

“I…no. You’re not icky.” Alastor muttered. Avoiding your gaze as he wordlessly held out a hand for the rings.

You pause before giving it to him. Still sniffling. “But then why don’t you want to play? I won the race. I play your yucky boy games. If it’s not because I’m icky….is it because you don’t want to play with me anymore? Are we still friends?”

“We will always be friends.” He said, cutting off your other questions. His tone confident and sure. “But husbands are icky. I don’t like them.” His tone dark and his eyes angry as he turned the rings over in his hands.

“I think you’d be a nice husband. You would listen to your wife. Play the games she wanted sometimes. You would scare off her bullies and….you’d be the best husband.” You say looking in his eyes seriously.

He held your gaze, his face going carefully blank as he listened before he extended his hand to you, helping you off the ground. “Fine. I’ll play but you have to promise to never play this with anyone else. I am the only friend you can play this with.” He says seriously before passing you one of the rings.

“You’re the only friend I have.” You remind him with a happy yet confused expression. You don’t know why he changed his mind, you were just happy he was finally going to play!

“So I think we just put the rings on and then run around.” You explain. Only having seen bits and pieces from recess and having never played before.

“No. I went to my mom had a friend get married last year. We have to say some fancy words first.” Alastor says seriously as he takes your hand. He then clears his throat dramatically.

“I Alastor Aloysius Moreux do take Adelaide Lorraine Colt to be my wife.” He says seriously before sliding the wooden ring into your finger. You grin at his words, “now do we run around?” You ask him excitedly.

“No you have to say the same thing but switch it around.” He orders.

“Oh okay. I Addy Lorraine Colt do take Alastor Aloysius Moreux to be my husband!” You say brightly, shoving his own ring on in your excitement. “Now what?” You ask him, bouncing where you stood.

“Now we have to kiss.” He says before he cups both your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours causing you to squeal and pull away. You land on the ground, rubbing your lips furiously as you shoot an annoyed look at him where he stood.

A pleased smirk on his lips and hands folded behind his back.

“What was that for? That’s gross!” You say loudly.

“That’s why you can’t play it with other people.” He says with a mischievous grin.

“You’re just being mean because I made you play!” You say pushing yourselves to your feet again.

And that was how the rest of the afternoon was spent. Chasing and being chased around the forest until both of your parents called you to your respective beds.

[blade-that-was-broken]

This doesn't happen anymore but idk I spent so much time trying to find it in my papers that I have to toss it into the internet void

The moment Spruce raced past John’s gesture for a hug, Branch saw his confusion and hurt. JD glanced around, like he thought maybe he got the wrong troll - despite them being the only ones there - but then he saw Spruce go to Branch for a hug and ignore him. He could see JD’s heart break. 

JD loved hugs more than anyone really knew. He struggled  a little with too much at once - which Branch knew he loathed - but he tried not to let that stop him. 

Branch managed to jump back, sliding out of Spruce’s reach. “Whoa!” he just grinned. “Look at you! Someone’s got some crazy reflexes! Come on, let me give you a hug! I haven’t seen you in years!”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked, flatly. 

Spruce stumbled. “Branch…”

“I’m not here to fight. It’s not about me. I’m here to ask for your help.” 

“For what?”

“The perfect family harmony-”

Spruce rolled his eyes then turned to glare at JD who was busy checking out one of the pools, curiously. He tipped his toe in and that jumped back a little, like he felt or saw something he wasn’t expecting. Spruce was glaring. “Did he put you up to this? He really needs to let it go.” 

“JD has nothing to do with it-” 

“Look Bitty. I’m happy to see you but him?” 

“It’s been twenty years. You’re still mad?” 

“It’s not like he apologized.” 

“Are you sure we are in the right place, kiddo?” JD asked, looking back at him, his head tilting a little. As much as JD had seen so many photos, they had all changed in the last twenty years. Spruce was no exception. Clay and Floyd wouldn’t be either. Without that connection of actually remembering them physically, it made it a bit more difficult for JD to identify those people from his past. 

He was probably missing most of the conversation. They had already talked a bit about it, that Branch should do the explaining. Although JD had a habit of making friends with people, there was a history here and their family held grudges. But then again, JD had lately been letting Branch do a lot of the leading lately. It turned out fine, most of the time, although Branch couldn’t help but be worried about the implications. Maybe he was overthinking it, which was entirely possible too. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Spruce demanded, stepping forward. “Is this a crack about my weight?” 

JD looked absolutely bewildered but finally took a moment to actually look at Spruce a little closer. JD shifted a little, as he often did when it came to people approaching him when upset. Some kind of mechanism, Branch learned, from living out in the wild. It wasn’t something he could really entirely shake. Not that he had tried to much anyway. He was very confused and Branch knew the feeling. “What? Why would I care about some dude’s weight? Each the nachos, man. You run a restaurant.” 

“What?” That seemed to make Spruce even more upset. “Some dude?” 

JD skipped back over to Spruce and looked at him curiously again, but he stuck close to Branch. Another normal thing. The two of them physically kept together when on adventures and other things. Safer that way. It was normal now. “This is one of them right?”

“Excuse me? You’re acting like you have never met me in your life!” Spruce yelled. 

“Not that I can remember,” JD chuckled, nervously. He was trying to play off his discomfort with humor. Just more normal JD things. Branch supposed they had always been normal to him but did Spruce know that? Did he remember some of those things from their childhood? 

“Just because I changed? That is so shallow and I never thought… How have you gotten worse?!” 

“Whoa, dude, chill! Don’t take it personally. I just-” 

“Don’t take it personally? How could I not?”

“Spruce-” 

“It’s Bruce now. And I think it’s time you leave. Obviously the Great John Dory has just become a worse person and I don’t need that. I’ve got a good life with a wife and family! Something you clearly do not have.” 

“SHUT UP!” Branch yelled.

They looked over at him. 

“Would you give it a rest and let us explain?” 

“What is there to explain?” Spruce sneered. “John Dory is here, making fun of me, trying to make me do a family harmony after twenty years of no contact, topping it off with pretending he doesn’t even know me.” 

“He’s not pretending!” Branch shouted, exasperated. 

“What?” 

“He’s not pretending. JD doesn’t remember the first twenty years of his life.” 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“When I was about six, JD stumbled into Pop Village with only the memories of the last couple years. He didn’t know who I was or knew my name.” 

“It totally freaked him out,” JD nodded. 

“I mean, we are kind of freaking out Spruce here.” 

“Yeah. It gets crazier!” JD added. 

“It what?!” 

“Yeah. The King was all like sweet, you can take care of him and I-”

“Where was Gramma?” 

“Asked where was his parents and B was just like dead.” 

“A long time ago.,” Branch frowned. It took a long time to work through that. 

“Yeah. Anyways, I asked B who raised him and he said-” 

“You,” Branch snorted. 

JD grinned like it was an inside joke. It kind of was. Their entire reunion had kind of become an inside joke for the both of them. Although it started rocky, things swung into humor pretty quickly. JD never held what Branch said or acted against him. Part of it was probably because he was young and part of it was simply because JD could find things to laugh at. And it was kind of funny. “And then I was just like ok lets do it.” 

“Let’s… do it?”

“Yeah. Been taking care of this little daredevil ever since.” 

“Daredevil?” 

“It took us a bit to build his confidence but he can keep up with me easy.” 

“Better, old man.” 

“Eh… maybe debatable but you're probably not wrong!”

[guplia]

My eighth fic for @badthingshappenbingo!

Fandom: Ninjago

Trope: Enemy Turned Caretaker

Inspired by this fic

Also available on AO3!

Fatherless

Kai collapsed on his bed the night Lloyd defeated the Overlord and his father. Who knew Garmadon would come back drained of all the evil in his blood? Kai was happy for him and his family. Lloyd, who thought he would never see his mother and only bring his father back by becoming evil himself mere months ago, now had both his parents, and his uncle, who were all very good people. Kai would hate to admit it though, but it made him feel… kind of jealous.

Out of the ninja team, Kai and Zane related more to each other because they never knew their parents. Jay would visit both of his own sometimes, and Cole had recently made amends with his father, though he never spoke of his mother. But later Zane reunited with his father too. Kai was happy for him, but now he was alone again. There was still Lloyd, though. He had his mother and his uncle, but not his father. But here Garmadon was today, alive and well.

He tried to sleep it off. At least he had Nya. In the end, all the ninja had their biological family, and that was enough for everyone. Right?

***

His thoughts got worse as time passed on. 

Today, Kai and the others were helping to rebuild a house that had been destroyed in the final battle. He was talking to the other ninja and Garmadon when Lloyd told his father something he didn’t understand, and they started laughing. It was an inside joke. Just two weeks ago, Lloyd was trying to kill this guy. And now they’re laughing with each other like old friends, like soulmates. 

Kai didn’t realise he was staring at them for so long until Nya tapped his shoulder. “You okay there? You seem a little distant from the rest of us.”

Kai shook his head frantically. “I do? Everything’s fine! I’m just a little overwhelmed from the Final Battle, isn’t everyone?” He chuckled nervously.

Nya raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of Kai, but shrugged it off and carried on with her work.

That night, Kai had a horrible nightmare. Garmadon was evil again, and Lloyd was hugging Kai for protection.

“I thought you were my father!” Lloyd screamed. “I thought you loved me!”

Garmadon smiled wickedly. “I have no son.” He moved his arm forward to grab Lloyd but Kai pushed his arm back.

“You dare interfere with our battle?” Garmadon yelled. He suddenly grabbed Kai's neck and lifted him off the floor. Lloyd was crying in contrast to Garmadon's laughs. 

Kai woke up, drenched in sweat, which was ironic considering his body temperature was always above normal, being the master of fire and all.

He recalled how Lloyd and Garmadon were laughing with each other just that afternoon, and the thought of Garmadon secretly still being evil made his stomach churn. But he had no proof that the guy who was once his enemy is still his enemy. So he went back to sleep, silently hoping that he would have a better dream, if any.

***

About a couple weeks later, Jay's parents had come to visit their son. Dr. Julien had fallen quite ill so Zane was taking care of him elsewhere. Cole's dad was going to pick him up to take him somewhere too. 

Kai ate his breakfast with Cole and Nya, none of them saying anything. Cole had the decency not to talk about whatever his father had planned for the two of them in front of the siblings who hadn't seen their parents in over a decade. 

Kai was wondering where Lloyd had gone, but he reckoned that he was probably out with his parents too. 

Or maybe just his father, because Wu and Misako were outside in the garden talking about scrolls and prophecies and their past or some other shit. 

Kai walked to his room and curled up on his bed, having vivid thoughts of his parents. They were looking at him, smiling.

The only thing that stopped tears from coming out of his eyes was the sound of someone knocking on the door. 

“Come in!” Kai said, wiping his eyes to make sure that they were completely dry. The door opened, revealing his sister.

“Sensei Garmadon's asking us if we want to go for a ride around Ninjago City. We'll even make a few stops here and there.”

Kai's eyes widened. “He wants to take us for a trip? But why?”

“I don't know. Just take it or leave it, I guess.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah. I don't really have anything to do here anyways.”

“Then I'll go too.” Kai wanted to trust Garmadon, but months of trying to defeat him couldn't go ignored. Or the fact that he literally kidnapped Nya once. He needed to convince himself that this was not the same Garmadon. This was a better Garmadon, one that chose to be on the good side.

He got out of the room with Nya, where they saw Lloyd and his father. 

“Kai!” Garmadon said gleefully. “Have you decided to join us too?”

“Sure,” he smiled. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“It's nothing. I figured you and Nya would be left alone here, and it's not like Misako and Wu are very fun people, are they?”

The Smith siblings chuckled a bit, not really having a response to that question. There was no need to disrespect the wife and brother of the person who just invited them for a trip around Ninjago.

“We'll be taking the bus, which should take us about five minutes to get to. Just grab whatever you need, maybe use the bathroom, and then we'll leave!”

A while later, the four of them were at the bus station. Kai stayed close to Nya, but kept a distance from Lloyd and Garmadon, not wanting to get into their personal business. The bus ride was quite similar. 

They looked out of the window, before the bus stopped at the mall.

“We're just here to grab some food,” Garmadon assured them. “unless there's something else you two want?”

“No thanks,” they both said in unison. 

Once everyone had ordered their food, Garmadon paid for all of it, despite Kai and Nya's insistence that they pay for it instead. It made Kai feel a little guilty.

When they had reached the next bus, and ate their food, Kai and Nya weren't sure of where they were heading. The fire ninja hoped it wasn't a theme park, because his stomach was beginning to hurt. Maybe the food wasn't so good. Garmadon broke the silence.

“Since Lloyd was so brave for being the Golden Ninja and defeating me, I let him choose the treat. So today, we're going on a cruise ship!”

Those words brought a smile to Nya's face but Kai's expression was drenched in horror. He wasn't the biggest fan of water, and while he could tolerate it on a normal day, he was already sick enough right now.

“Are you okay, Kai?” Garmadon asked.

“You don't look so good,” Lloyd chimed in.

“Yeah, yeah… I'm fine.” He faked a smile.

As soon as they got off the bus, Nya spoke up. “Can Kai and I… have a moment to ourselves please?” She asked politely.

“Sure.”

She pulled Kai away from the Garmadons, making sure they couldn't hear them. “What is wrong with you? Why's your attitude suddenly gotten worse?” 

“Nya, I feel sick. I don't think the food was very clean. And you know how I don't really like water, right?” Nya's expression changed upon hearing what her brother said.

“Well, we're obviously not going to ruin Lloyd's trip! Just man up and let's go! You're a ninja for crying out loud!”

Kai didn't want to argue. On the ship a few minutes later, he couldn't stop looking at the sea. The trip hadn't even started yet, but the ship was still shaking and it made Kai sick. He started vomiting heavily. Nya came rushing behind him.

“Kai! Are you okay!”

“I can't do this,” he said between heaves. “It's too scary! I'm getting off. You should go without me.”

“That'll make me look horrible! You know what, we both won't go on the cruise trip. Well let Lloyd and his dad go alone.”

They walked towards the other two, who were on the other side of the ship. “Kai and I need to go,” Nya said. “but we hope you enjoy your trip!”

“Why? What's wrong?” Lloyd asked, puzzled.

“Kai's just feeling–”

“I'm a bit seasick. And I probably ate something bad,” he interrupted. “But I don't want to ruin your trip. I'll just wait here.”

Garmadon gave an understanding look. “That's okay. We can go back home now.”

“W-what?” Kai stammered. “No way! Those tickets must've been expensive!”

“It's not that much!” Lloyd said. “Besides, the tickets are valid for six months. I can go anytime I want to.”

“But you really wanted to go–”

“Your opinion matters too, Kai,” Garmadon interrupted. “It matters just as much as Nya's, and Lloyd’s.”

“You may not see me as a father figure,” he said. “But you're just like my children to me. You treated Lloyd like your brother, and for that I am forever grateful. I wasn't really sure how to show it to you two, so I brought you both to come along with Lloyd and I.” he paused. “But if it makes you feel uncomfortable you can tell me.”

As he spoke, memories flashed through Kai's mind. How he lost his parents at such a young age. How all the other ninja knew their parents. Then he remembered how protective Garmadon was as his son, even when he was evil. He cared for him more than anything else in the world. And now he's of equal importance.

It brought tears to his eyes. He tried to stop them but they kept flowing, like the blood from a fresh wound. He turned around to hide his face from the others but it was already too late.

“You okay there, Kai?” Garmadon asked.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Sorry, I'm being such a baby–”

“You're not being a baby, Kai.” Lloyd interrupted. “It's okay to have feelings. That's what makes us human.” He ran to Kai and hugged him, with Nya and Garmadon following suit.

He kept sobbing until he suddenly pushed the other three away.

“Kai! What was that for?” Nya said, annoyed by her brother.

Kai leaned over the railing and started throwing up all over again. It wouldn't stop this time.

“There, there,” Garmadon said, patting his back. “I think we should go home now. You're clearly seasick.”

***

Back home, Garmadon gave Kai some anti nausea medication while he rested in bed. The food had brought the worst out of him and now he had a fever.

That night Kai finally accepted the fact that Garmadon was no longer evil as he took care of him.

“You don't need to do anything, you know.” Kai said as he shivered in bed. “I can take care of myself.”

“Well, I'm not going to do nothing while you suffer,” was Garmadon's response as he placed a cool cloth on Kai's forehead. “besides, you can barely stand up.”

Kai thought for a moment, before speaking again. “I'm sorry for ruining your trip.”

“Again, Kai, there's nothing to apologise for.” Garmadon said as he stood up. “We're family.” He got up and turned off the lights. “Goodnight, Kai.”

“Goodnight.”

***

Years later, as Kai looked at Lloyd's fragile body, unsure of if he'll even survive, he was in complete denial that the man who once called himself as both of their father, had almost killed Lloyd after saying: “I have no son.”

[thinkingabout-girls]

it’s come to my attention that my hands are abnormally cold, to the point that whenever i touch someone every time without fail they comment on it. i have also notices that my hands and feet do look like i am a corpse. i’m going to assume that this is normal and proceed to not do anything about it

[lesbiansanemi]

Still thinking about the conversation I had with my roommate’s bf like two weeks ago where he said he was scared of furries but also didn’t even know enough about furries to know they were called furries I had to figure out wtf he was talking about. The urge to become a full blown furry now. Despite having all the makings of a furry I for some reason have never ended up enthusiastically becoming one despite my best efforts. Well. With spite as my motivator here we are. Where are the furry artists, I’m commissioning both my tentative ideas for my fursonas. I’m inviting all my friends who are furries over and we’re gonna work on making fursuits. I will also make this a hostile living situation for you AND I will get the added bonus of doing fun furry stuff

[mars-ipan]

GODDD.

[dawnstarranger]

Listen everyone has their own metric for what good writing is and isn’t but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get me down a little to see one of my faves dragged through the mud by both haters and fans alike on a pretty much weekly basis