#molly talks st

[anderperries]

separate them at your own peril

[image description: a collage of nine pictures of steve harrington and robin buckley from stranger things together with a picture in the middle with black text on an orange background that reads "THIS IS A SET DO NOT SEPARATE" /end image description]

[bcofl0ve]

hi mollie!! what’s the context of the all boys school jacob made?? I didn’t see it I feel like i’m missing something lol

he went to st kevins, which has a controversy tab on it's wikipedia, to be brief haha, i've seen a few aussies on stan twitter over the years make jokes about how he could play anti women king nate jacobs so well because he went there/it's known for being a misogynist breeding ground- and a few months ago i chuckled at someone quoting a "before i stan is he problematic" tweet with "well he went to st. kevin's so probably". LOL.

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Babies on the Brain

George Weasley x reader

Requested by @hahahafucku

Request gist: smut where George sees you holding Fred baby and he feels the need to give you one of his own.

A/N: thanks for the request. I carried on Fred and Angelina’s romance (Freds not dying in my world and George is ending up with the reader instead). I've never been good at writing for breeding kinks (I say like I'm good at writing other things) so I'm sorry if it sounds cliche or cringy or if it's just downright terrible. I don't know if I went a bit overboard on the before smut stuff.

T/W: unprotected sex, soft dom George, breeding kink, praise, kitchen counter sex, ginger baby (jk)

You and George had met in your first year of Hogwarts but your slow build up to a couple started after your fourth year. You had known him for years. His parents loved you, his siblings loved you, and he adored you. You loved his family, from his caring mum, to his mischievous twin, and finally his young sister (who was thrilled to have another girl in the family).

Speaking of George's mischievous twin, you couldn't believe the news when you heard that he was going to be a father. This was a boy who (with his twin) had set a firework dragon on a ministry of magic worker, had stolen a flying car, and had tested joke shop products on first year students back in Hogwarts. He was going to be a brilliant dad.

Those months went by with you and George helping Fred and Angelina with anything they needed, from trips to St Mungos to shopping for baby accessories. Throughout this time, George began to keep a closer eye on you. He’d zone out when you recommended baby grows to get his future niece or nephew or when you’d buy baby products so that the expecting parents were prepared.

A week after Angelina gave birth, she and Fred brought the little one round to meet the family. A little boy who already shared the Weasleys trademark fiery hair. Angelina passed him to you, letting you hold the baby whilst she went for a well deserved rest (Molly had persisted that she looked tired and could take a nap in Fred’s old room). You bounced the little baby in your arms, unaware of your boyfriend watching you from the doorway.

He didn't want to admit it, but seeing you with a baby in your arms made him weak in the knees. He wanted it to always be like this. He wanted the baby in your arms to be his. He'd always thought about having kids with you someday, but this was a wake up call. And the call was answered by that voice inside of him, telling him to make you his and only his.

————————————————————————

Once you got home to the small house that you and George shared, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. All you had been talking about all afternoon was how adorable Fred’s baby was with his tiny button nose and little toes. George stalked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his face immediately going to the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to the skin.

“You’d make such a perfect mum to our kids”.

His words made you freeze. At first, you didn't think you’d heard him correctly, since his face was still tucked into your neck. But he made sure that you would listen.

“I bet you’d look so beautiful carrying our baby. So full and swollen…so full because of me”.

At this point, he was slowly rocking his hips against your ass. His cock slowly got harder while he left kisses along your collarbone. Small breathy moans slipped past your lips, his words and grinding getting you wetter by the second. You pushed your hips back against his, wanting nothing more than for George to take the hint and fuck you into the countertop. His hand splayed across your stomach through your clothes, muttering a soft “Want me in here, sweetheart?”. Your small whimper and frantic nodding had him smiling to himself. He wanted you to admit that you wanted this, he needed you to admit that you wanted him to do this.

“Need you to tell me what you want, love. Tell me how much you want to be full of my cum”. His breath on the shell of your ear caused you to shiver and turn your head as much as you could to look him in the eye. “Please George, fuck me. Fill me up. I want to be full”. Once he made you beg, he pulled your dress up and pulled your underwear to the side, knowing that it would take too long to pull them off. George pushed his trousers and boxers down, before pushing into you with one thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. His pace was quick and desperate from the moment he was inside of you. His cock felt amazing. You had both had sex without protection before but it felt somehow better when you didn't have to worry or take precautions. Your moans were sultry and erotic, and George swore that he had never heard a prettier sound (apart from the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your ass).

His hand trailed its way down to tease and play with your clit, wanting to make you cum first. He had always insisted on cumming after you. His mouth was next to your ear in a second, his voice dripping with lust. “That's it sweetheart, milk my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want me to cum deep inside you. Cum for me and I’ll stuff you so full of my cum that you’ll be carrying twins”. His thrusts got sloppier but his small circles on your clit got more determined. All it took was one final thrust to have you cumming around his cock, your walls clenching tighter than before. George's hold on you got tighter as his cum flooded your insides, not a drop going to waste.

After you had both caught your breaths and calmed down, he pulled his cock out. Pulling your underwear to its correct spot before whispering in your ear “Keep it all in there love, I’ll check tonight and if even a drop is gone, I’ll just have to fill you up again”

[absurdthirst]

One Night in St. John's {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.3k

Warnings: Alcohol/drug use, infidelity, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, regret, abusive relationships, emotional/physical abuse, isolation, baby trapping, domestic violence, threats of death, weapons, drugging, hostage situation, death by gun violence, PTS, shock, therapy, confessions, oral sex (male receiving)

Comments: Drunk and high, you and Frankie give into the desires you've kept hidden from one another. One night in St. John's, one brief moment in time in each other's arms. You go back to your lives, sure that it's causing Frankie to pull away from your team even more, but there's a more sinister and heartbreaking reason.

A/N: Domestic violence/abuse comes in all shapes, sizes and genders. If reading about an abusive relationship would be triggering, please do not read.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your nerves are shot, hands shaking, your entire body shaking as you sit under the hot water as the dirt and blood swirls down the drain. You’re alive, although you could have been like Tom, wrapped up in a blanket and carried out from the mountains where he had been killed. You had carried his body, cried and grieved, now alone with your thoughts and they aren’t exactly the happiest. Lonely and hurt, you try to ignore the baggie you had in your bag, now sitting on the table out in your room. Trying to resist snorting the fine white powder to manage the pain, to forget. Salty tears mix with the water as you cry in your first shower since you had tried to steal from Lorea and had ended up running for your lives. 

Frankie sighs as he puts the phone down on the nightstand. He’d just spoken to Darcy who let him speak to Ava. The ten month old has no idea what he’s saying but he had to speak to his daughter. He had to speak to her after nearly fucking dying, after Tom died. He rubs his eyes and runs his fingers through his damp hair, feeling antsy and like a caged lion. He needs to get out of this damn room. He gets dressed and makes his way down to the hotel bar, ordering a whiskey as soon as he’s sitting down and he groans at the first sip he takes. 

“This seat taken?” You ask him and he looks at you, “you want a drink?” He asks and you nod so he gestures for the bartender to come over. You order your drink and turn to look at Frankie. He’s so handsome, even with exhaustion seeping deep into his bones, he makes your heart flutter but he has a girlfriend, he has a daughter. When you get your drink, you hold it up towards Frankie, “to Redfly.” He nods, clinking his glass with yours. Tears sting in your eyes when you look in the mirror behind the bar to you and Frankie, the realization that you came so close to death still weighing heavy. “That was a shit show, huh?” You joke softly, trying to conceal your watery eyes.

“Yeah.” Frankie blows out a breath and sighs, shaking his head. He wants to cry but he doesn’t feel like it will come out of him. Too used to repressing his feelings until he explodes. He feels it, itching under his skin, clawing to get out. “You doing okay?” He asks gruffly, clearing his throat and motioning towards the bartender for another round.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and you shake your head. “I keep- all i can see when I close my eyes is Tom. Dead on that mountain. How it could’ve been all of us. Any of us. And Molly and the girls…they are going to be devastated. I feel so guilty. Like there was - we could’ve saved him.” You know that’s not possible, Tom got himself killed but you feel guilty for your captain getting killed on your watch. The bartender sets another whiskey down for Frankie and you turn to look at him, “I can’t - we nearly died.”

“We didn’t though.” Frankie insists, picking up his drink and nudging yours over in front of you. “Fuck I wish this was something stronger.” He grunts as he tilts his head back and throws back the shot. Feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down his throat. His life is in shambles, no one knows how bad it is, not even Benny and for a moment, he wishes it had been him on that mountain.

You pick up your drink and down it, needing to feel numb like he wants to. “I have…I have something stronger. In my room.” You confess, “it’s, uh, I picked it up when we were in the coke fields.” You confess, knowing you shouldn’t have grabbed the packet but it was right there and you didn’t know if you were going to live or die.

He had been tempted. Surrounded by all that cocaine, he had been sorely tempted to take some. To know you have some in your room makes his stomach twist and his craving get even stronger. “Fuck.” He stands up and reaches into his pocket for some cash. “What the fuck are we waiting for?” He asks you. “I want to fucking forget the last week and a half.”

You nod, standing up and you grab your room key, quickly making your way up to the third floor and you open your door, hearing him close it behind him and you grab the baggie, working fast to cut lines on the desk in the corner. Frankie rolls up one of the hundred dollar bills from the bag you grabbed from Lorea’s and you use your hotel room key. “Ladies first.” Frankie says, handing you the bill and you bend over, snorting the line and you shake your head at the rush you get immediately before you hand the bill to Frankie.

Anticipation curls in his stomach as he bends down. Blowing out a breath, he closes his mouth and snorts up the entire line quickly. Groaning and tossing his head back as the jolt to his system immediately slams into him and the euphoria washes over him. “Shit, shit.” He huffs, leaning down and doing another line in his other nostril before gasping and handing the bill back to you. “It’s fuckin’ pure.”

“Purest shit I’ve ever done. I, uh, I haven’t done this for years. Not since college.” You confess and bend over to do another line. The second hits you hard and you set the bill down as you wipe your nose, shifting to sit on the bed. “Shit. I feel…peaceful.” You sigh, your racing thoughts finally silent as you close your eyes, feeling the bed dip as Frankie sits down next to you.

“Only goddamn time I have peace.” Frankie hums, feeling the lovely floating sensation start to drift over him as his mind goes fuzzy and the smell of your shower gel seeps into his nostrils. His cock twitches and he thinks about how fucking beautiful you are. “Only time I get hard now too.” He blurts out, the intimacy in his relationship dead and buried, he had used to hide the fact that he couldn’t get it up for her anymore, able to fuck while high had been a good thing for him.

You open your eyes and frown when you look at him, “Darcy…she doesn’t - wow.” You finish lamely and clear your throat. “Sorry. That was-” He murmurs and you shake your head, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “It’s okay. Nothing leaves this room. It’s just the two of us. Whatever we say or do doesn’t leave here, okay?” You reassure him, wanting him to know he can trust you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you. To lay out everything that’s been happening and how miserable he is. Turning and looking into your concerned, beautiful eyes, he’s hypnotized by their color and depths. Not thinking about anything but you, he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours with a moan.

You respond, much to your shame, you respond and reach up to cup his cheeks. Your lips move against his and you pull back after a second. “Frank-” You murmur but he silences you with another kiss, not wanting to think about anything but you. You allow him to drag you down and you tangle your fingers in his hair as his tongue slides along your lips and your tongue meets his with a low groan.

He wants you, he’s always wanted you, but right now he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you. His cock is already hard, throbbing as your tongue slides against his and he flips you onto your back and straddles you, pushing against your belly with his straining bulge. “Want you.” He manages as he pulls away to start biting and kissing along your jaw. “So fucking long. So beautiful.”

You can’t resist, fuelled by booze and coke, you can’t say no to the man you’ve been in love with for years. You couldn’t say anything when you served together and when you found out about Darcy and her being pregnant in the same sentence, you resigned yourself to being his friend. “Me too. Always wanted you. Fuck, Cat. I need you to - please. Fuck me.” You beg, reaching up to grab the back of his shirt, tugging on it and needing to feel his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so soft.” He marvels, stroking your sides and kissing your neck. “How are you so soft?” He’s imagined this thousands of times, sometimes when his hand is wrapped around his cock and sometimes when he was fucking Darcy. Luckily he had never moaned your name. Frankie kisses down your chest and circles your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth like a hungry baby.

You gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair, “Frankie.” You whimper when he bites down and he sucks where he bites. You wrap your leg around him and grind into him, pushing his bulge into your covered pussy and you moan in response.

He rocks his hips, shamelessly rutting into the hot core between your thighs. It feels better than he could have imagined and he’s not even inside you yet. He suckles until your nipple is swollen, moving over to the other breast and he knows he wants to bury his face in your cunt. “Take- take your fucking shorts off.” He growls, tongue dipping into your belly button as he moves lower.

Your heart beats out of your chest, already dripping with anticipation and you follow his growled demand without hesitation. You lift your hips as much as you can so you can take your shorts off after unbuttoning them and Frankie is impatient, reaching down to drag them off of your legs along with your panties, pushing your thighs apart when you are bare beneath him.

“Fuck.” He groans, seeing your wet folds and reaching out to spread them wide to expose your clit. “I’m so fucking hungry.” He lunges forward to slide his tongue through your folds and around your clit, pressing his nose to your mound with the enthusiasm of a starving man.

"Fuck!" You yelp, surprised at the ferocious way he buries his face into your cunt and you swear you nearly cum then and there when you look down and see his eyes are already black, pupils blown wide from the coke, and hungry. You moan and tug on his hair, "fuck, Frank - shit." You pant, lifting your leg up onto his shoulder.

It just makes him push deeper, sliding his tongue down to push up inside you. Loving the way your soaked walls clench around his tongue. He wraps his arms around your other thigh and pushes it out, opening you up more to his mouth. He would swallow you whole if he could. Cock throbbing in his jeans, grinding into the bed beneath him and swearing he could stay right here all night feasting on you.

"Oh God!" You cry, your head pressing into the mattress and you can't believe how good he feels, how good his tongue feels. Better than you've ever imagined and you've imagined it a lot. For years, you've wanted Frankie and now that you finally got him, you are breathless. "Shit. So good, baby. God, you're so good." You pant, getting closer as his nose presses against your clit.

He loves praise, soaks it up and is desperate for more. He moans into your folds and curls his tongue up inside you. Your fingers in his hair are magical and he hates pulling away for a second but he wants to suck on your clit.

  Your stomach twists as you get closer to cumming and his lips suck harder on your clit. "Fi-fingers. Need your fingers, baby." You plead and moan when his thick digits push inside of you. "Yesss." You hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and it doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge with a moan of his name.

As hard as he is, he wants to see you cum again. Needs to see it, to feel it. Your cum floods his mouth and it's like ambrosia. Making him moan as he laps it up and pumps his fingers into your grasping walls. Enjoying the squelch of your wetness around his fingers.

"Shit." You hiss as you are pushed into overstimulation but he doesn't stop. You moan his name again, a desperate plea for what, you aren't sure. You don't want him to stop but it's so intense. "Oh fuck." You moan, thighs starting to shake as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Give me another.” Frankie demands, pulling away so he can swallow and then sucking your clit back into his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s wanted to pleasure someone he’s drunk on the sensation, greedy for more.

You gasp for air, every breath taken from you by his mouth and his fingers. "It's too much." You pant and Frankie growls, "another." 

You can't deny him, pushing through the overstimulation and falling over the edge to another orgasm. "F-Fr-" You try to get his name out but all you can do is squeak.

Frankie groans, working his mouth even harder as he watches you. Your entire body arches up and he feels the spurt of precum soak his boxers. Finding it to be a gorgeous sight as you gasp and writhe for him.

You collapse against the bed, eyes still closed as you try to calm down after the best orgasms you've ever had. "I wanna see you." You tell him, shifting out from under him and kneeling on the bed. He follows your orders and lays down, working on unbuttoning his pants and you shove them down his legs after he kicks off his shoes. Throwing them to the floor, you focus back on Frankie and see the bulge in his boxers, the dark look in his eyes, and the way his chest heaves. You reach up to hook your fingers in his boxers, pulling them down, and you moan at the sight of his hard cock. "Fuck, you're thick." You murmur, spitting into your hand then you wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the feel of the silky hot skin.

“Shit.” He hisses, rocking his hips up into your grip and groaning your name. He’s imagined you touching him, never quite able to imagine it as good as this. “Fuck, are you- what do you want?” He demands breathlessly. “I need you baby.”

“I want to - I want to ride you. I- I have an IUD. Please Frank. I need you inside of me.” You beg and he nods, leaning down to grab your arms so he can drag you up his body. You shuffle to straddle him, his cock between your folds as you grind down on him and the drugs combined with the high you get from Frankie has you feeling on top of the world.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Frankie groans, tearing up to press his lips to your shoulder. He should be desperate to get inside you, but he loves how you are rolling your hips over his cock. Holding tight to your back as he pulls you down and kisses along your shoulder.

You moan, turning your head so you can press your lips to his, not wanting to waste a second of this night together. He isn’t yours. Can never be yours. This is all you’ll have. You reach between you, gripping his cock and you lift up to position him at your entrance, slowly sinking down onto him and you whimper against his chin at the stretch.

“Holy fuck.” He pants, cock twitching and it’s all he can do to keep from rocking up into you. Trying to give you time to adjust. The Coke and the feeling of you are nearly making him black out from pleasure. “So good baby, fuck you are so tight and sweet.”

You exhale shakily, shifting to brace your hands on his chest as you take all of him. Your heart is pounding in your chest from the coke and the fact that it’s Frankie beneath you. “Feel so good, Frankie.” You whimper, caressing his chest as you give yourself a second before you start to move on top of him.

“So good, baby.” He groans. “I can’t believe that it feels so good. Move baby.” He begs you, fingers digging into your hips as he braces his feet in the bed.

You moan, nodding as you start to rock on top of him, lifting up until you can sink back down onto his cock. His thighs lift you so you can move forward and you grind onto his cock. “Fuck.” You pant, jaw dropping at the angle.

“That good, baby?” Frankie grunts. “Your little cunt is squeezing me.” His hands squeeze your hips, not slapping, he would never slap you. He groans when his words affect you and he squeezes your hips again. “You like that, baby girl? You like me telling you how tight your pussy is on my cock?”

You nod, speechless from the dirty talk. His rough voice sends shivers down your spine, and you move a little faster on top of him. "Shit. Yes. I do. I love it. I wanna - wanna hear more, Francisco." You demand softly, leaning down to kiss along his jaw.

“Fuck.” When Frankie is high, he’s more talkative, the thoughts inside his head just come pouring out of him easier than he would sober. “Always wanted to fuck you. Imagined it, dreamed of it, jerked off to the thought of it.” He admits with a dirty grin. His hand slides up to your breast and he squeezes it, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “So many nights. The entire time we served together, I wanted you.”

“Oh God.” Your stomach clenches at his dirty confession and you pant against his collarbone, clenching around him. “Me too. Shit, so many nights spent wishing you were in my bed. You were inside of me. Always knew it would be amazing. And it is.” You reveal, rocking back onto him, “it’s so good.”

“So good.” He groans in agreement. “You- I -“ he shakes his head. “Fuck me.” He begs, knowing that he can’t tell you that. Not with the way his life is. He can’t drag you into his mess, not when he doesn’t know how he’s getting out of it himself. Or if he’s getting out of it.

You reach for his hands, gripping them as you start to move faster on his cock. “Fuck baby. Oh God.” You pant, tits bouncing as you work yourself towards your orgasm as your knees dig into the mattress.

“That’s it baby, ride my cock.” Frankie groans. “Always- fuck, you’re better than my fantasy.” He praises, watching you and completely enthralled with the sight.

The awed look he gives you sends you over the edge, his eyes glassy and mouth open as he looks at you like you’re a goddess. It makes you cum and you clamp down on his cock with a strangled choke of his name, falling forward until your forehead is pressed against his. Body shaking above him and he thrusts up into you to help you prolong your high.

It’s the best sex he’s ever had, groaning your name as he watches you cum. It’s a vision that he would love to have burned in his brain. Rocking his hips up frantically as he chases his own end.

You try to grind back onto him, wanting him to cum inside of you. “Cum for me, Francisco. I want to feel you.” You beg, kissing along his neck, wanting to leave your mark but knowing you can’t.

“Fuck, fuck.” Frankie groans, unable to resist giving you what you want. Especially since it’s what he wants too. He thrusts up into you wildly, only making it another half dozen thrusts before he’s filling you, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum.

You hum with satisfaction, shifting to press your lips to his. His tongue is harsh against yours as his hips slowly thrust into you as he rides his orgasm and you run your fingers through his hair as he fills you. After he stops, he rolls you onto your side and curls around you. You smile into his chest, closing your eyes as the high of the drugs and the sex courses through you. There’s so much you want to say but you can’t. You just have tonight. Tomorrow, you deposit the money and Frankie goes home to his family.

Frankie hums, grateful when you don’t want to talk. All he wants to do is hold you. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down on his chest as he closes his eyes. “Wanna sleep here.” He mumbles quietly.

You hum back, placing your palm on his chest to feel his heartbeat, reassured that he’s safe and alive. You kiss his Adam’s apple, “sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow is gonna be messy.” You murmur, closing your eyes as exhaustion overwhelms you along with the crash from your high.

**** 

When Frankie wakes up, the light is starting to filter through the curtains and he’s sober. Realizing that he hadn’t been dreaming is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him. He can’t believe that he got to touch you, although he feels bad because he cheated. He made you a cheater and that was worse. He shifts slowly, not wanting to wake you up until he is out of the bed. Grabbing his clothes and fleeing quietly.

When you wake up, the sheets beside you are cold and you squint, feeling that headache you get after drinking too much but now it’s a combination of booze and coke. You sit up and bite your lip after you shake off the haze of waking up. He left. You shouldn’t be upset about that. He has a family. Shit, you - he cheated and you cheated with him. Shame burns inside of you. He has a baby with Darcy, he - he has a partner and you cheated with him. You feel dirty, shifting out of bed and you get into the shower, desperate to wash off his touch, hating that you can still feel his lips on your skin. The thing you wanted forever makes you sick with disgust at yourself. You stay under the water until it goes cold and reluctantly dress to meet the boys to deposit the money that will make you all for the rest of your life’s. 

**** 

You watch Benny walk out of the room after giving his share to Redfly’s family and you know you have to do the same. Signing your name before you get up to follow the boys, your eyes meeting Frankie’s for a moment and he looks away. Your heart shatters but you’re reminded that you can’t tell anyone about last night.

Frankie frowns as he stares at the contract in front of him. It’s a lot of money. Money that he could use to leave Darcy. Get his pilot’s license back and leave the horrible relationship he’s in. Get custody of the baby, hopefully. Or at least not get fucked with visitation. It’s hard to not think about this, even though he knows that he should give the money to Redfly’s family. The man died. His kids deserve that money. Still he stares at the contract for far longer than he should before he crumples up the paper and signs the document to give the money away. Sadness and despair overwhelming him, even as he slaps Pope on the shoulder and ambles out of the room like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

You watch Frankie as you stand in the middle of the street, passers-by pushing past but you stare at Frankie, knowing this is it. He will go back to Darcy and who knows when you’ll talk to him next. He keeps to himself nowadays and even Santi has trouble trying to get hold of him. “You’ll need these.” Santi says as he hands everyone back their passports. “I guess I’ll see you all next at the funeral?” Will says and you nod, knowing Frankie can’t avoid that. “See you soon.” Will steps forward to hug you, kissing your cheek and Benny then Santi does the same. Next is Frankie and you struggle to maintain your composure as you hug him tight.

Frankie tries to hug you as quickly as possible but he can’t help but linger for just a moment. Clinging to you for a second as the dreams of the future, a future with you, slip away. “Well, I gotta get home.” He tells the group, not looking any of you in the eye. He nods and turns around to disappear into the crowd.

****

It’s hard seeing Frankie again, all of you in dress uniform and you see Darcy holding Ava as she sits in a pew behind Molly and the girls. It’s hard to be around Frankie because he’s not even texted you since you’ve been back. Not that you expected anything of him when you got home but a check in would’ve been nice. You’ve texted him, asking him how he’s doing and you’ve been left on read. Your heart aches for Frankie but today, it grieves for Tom, your leader, and you focus on him instead of the man you yearn for.

Frankie doesn’t even dare look at all of you, knowing how pissed Darcy is that he didn’t come home with the money he had promised her when he had left. He knows she blames all of you for the fuck up in South America and why she cannot have a life of luxury. Instead, he focuses on the funeral, his part in the honor guard so he can finish up and leave. Darcy doesn’t want to stay past the burial.

When the service is over, everyone is heading to Molly’s house for the wake and you are confused when you arrive there after stopping for gas and don’t see Frankie or Darcy. “Where did Frankie go?” You ask Santi who sighs. 

“Darcy wanted to take Ava home and Frankie had to go too.” He explains and you frown, knowing it’s not like Frankie to leave early, especially when today is about Tom. 

**** 

“I still can’t believe you gave the money away.” Darcy shakes her head after putting Ava down for her nap. “You’re a fucking spineless bastard.” Darcy hisses at Frankie who stands there with his arms crossed, shoulders hunched. “You should’ve been selfish. For Ava. For me. I already bought a Louis Vuitton purse for my birthday because you promised you’d get me something to make up for being such a failure and getting suspended at work. I gotta take it back. You know how embarrassing that’s gonna be for me, baby?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” The apology is automatic, his heart starting to race as his pulse jumps up. “I’ll- I’ll pick up more hours.” He’s got part time work that’s been able to sustain them with his retirement and disability. “You don’t have to take it back, baby. You keep it.”

Darcy shakes her head, “no. I’ll take it back. I don’t need you telling me that we need to be budgeting the groceries. Honestly, you’re pathetic. Leaving your family for two weeks and you didn’t bring back anything to show for it.” Darcy scoffs and Frankie frowns, “I got seventeen grand.” Darcy snorts, “yeah? And where’s that gone? On trying to fight your suspension. When we met, I thought you were capable of looking after me. I thought you were gonna take care of me and our daughter but you’re a failure. How are you gonna make this up to me?”

Frankie swallows, hating how she continuously pokes and pushes him, grinding him into the dirt with her venom. “However you want me too, baby.” He placates, moving towards her automatically to wrap his arms around her. If she pushes him away, he knows he needs to just be quiet and let her vent her disappointment. But she would also accuse him of not caring if he didn’t make a move to comfort her, so he was picking one and seeing if it was the right move today.

Darcy lets him wrap his arms around her and she slides her hands down his back and under his uniform to pinch his side, making Frankie wince. “I don’t need your fucking comfort, Frank. I need you to do your job to provide for this family.” She hisses and pushes him away, “my parents told me to not have the baby. Didn’t think you were good enough for me and you know what? They were right.” She shakes her head and turns towards the counter to make herself a cup of coffee.

Frankie sighs, although he makes sure that she doesn’t hear it. That would cause another fight. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. “I’ll get my license back and then we won’t have to worry about anything.”

Darcy snorts again, “you better otherwise me and Ava will be gone. I’ll move in with my parents.” She threatens and pours her coffee. After a few moments, she says your name, “did you see her? She looks like she’s put on weight. I don’t think anyone was fooled that her uniform still fits properly. It looked like she was about to burst out of it. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No one's gonna wanna date the Pillsbury dough boy.”

Frankie frowns, looking at her back and wondering if she’s serious. His friend and teammate died and she’s commenting about your looks? You don’t look any different than the day you left the Army. “Her uniform was fine.” He tells her. “Nothing was ill fitting, she could pass inspection today.” He knows you haven’t gained any weight, but he can’t say that. The image of you riding him is a secret memory, one that he will think of often.

Darcy turns, staring at her partner, “really? She could pass inspection?” She mocks his words, “all the others were thinking it. She’s a fatso, Frank. And she shouldn’t have gone with you all to South America. Trying to run with the boys. I bet that’s why Tom got killed, because you were all running around trying to protect her. She’s useless. She is a military groupie gone too far and she thinks she’s capable but she put you all in danger.” Darcy gives her opinion without any remorse, speaking her mind as she always does and she turns back to pour creamer in her coffee.

“She didn’t do that.” Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “You need to stop fucking talking about her like that. She’s got just as many medals for courage and valor as Ben, she’s not a military groupie, she’s a veteran and deserves respect.” He snaps, pissed off that she constantly belittles your accomplishments.

Darcy moves so fast he doesn’t even register that she’s slapped him until he sees her hand lowering from his face. The sting comes a few seconds later and he realizes he went too far in his defense of you. “Don’t you ever - ever - defend that fucking bitch in my house, okay? She has always pined after you and you disrespect me by giving her compliments? No, Frank. No. You fucking apologize right now to me.” She demands, crossing her arms.

His eyes are wide, unable to believe that she just hit him. She’s shoved him, slapped at his chest but she’s never hit him in the face. “No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing for her being a veteran.” He tells her, his stomach churning and twisting in anxious nausea. Fearful of what she might do again, but still not ready to talk bad about you. You’ve never done anything wrong to her, until this trip, but Darcy doesn’t know that.

Darcy doesn’t hesitate, turning back to her coffee and she grabs the spoon she has in the mug, turning back to Frankie and pressing the spoon to his neck. He winces but she grabs the back of his neck to keep it pressed to his skin. “Apologize. To. Me.” She demands, pressing the spoon harder into his neck.

Frankie hisses, the hot spoon burning his skin but he almost doesn’t apologize. Deciding that he’s had enough of her shit until he hears Ava start to cry, obviously not wanting to go down for her nap. With the mood she’s in, Darcy would take it out on his daughter and he can’t have that. “I’m sorry.” He chokes out. “I’m sorry, baby, I- I don’t know what I was thinking.” He tells her breathlessly. “The funeral, losing Tom, it’s fucking with me. I’m not thinking straight.”

Darcy pulls the spoon away from his neck, setting it down and reaching up to cup his cheek. "It's okay, baby. I know it's been stressful. For me, too. I love you. You know that, right?" She coos, leaning in to kiss the burn she left on his skin.

Frankie shudders but he makes himself wrap his arms around her again and snuggle into her. “I know. You’re the only one who could put up with me.” It’s a statement that she’s said over and over again and he is starting to believe it.

“That’s damn right.” She chuckles, “I better go check on Ava.” Darcy says, leaning back with a smile at her partner and she walks out of the kitchen to check on the crying baby. Frankie exhales shakily, leaning against the kitchen counter. He has faced combat in the most dangerous areas in the world, nearly died from bullets flying past him, and flown a helicopter under high stress but Darcy seems to crumble his strength. Her power over him stems from keeping Ava safe and his morality. He would never hit a woman so he takes what she does to him. He doesn’t want to fight. He’s so tired of fighting. 

**** 

It’s been weeks since you heard from Frankie and the guilt is eroding your insides. It’s haunting you and you don’t know how to handle it. You’ve never been a cheater and not hearing from Frankie has you worried that you’ve ruined your friendship. You decide to send him a text, saying hi and asking how he is.

Frankie’s phone is constantly being checked by Darcy since his outburst. Nearly every night and he has even stopped talking to Ben as much as he used to. Not wanting to rehash every comment he made to his buddy or what his mentality was. When he gets the text from you, he panics and nearly deletes it, but then it would cause a complete shitstorm. Instead he doesn’t even open his messages and waits for Darcy to look through it.

“Why is she texting you?” Darcy asks, pausing the tv and grabbing Frankie’s phone. “She is asking how you are. Why would she ask that? Have you been talking to her behind my back? Have you - explain this, Frank. Now.” She says, shoving the phone towards him.

“What? No! No, I haven’t been talking to her!” Frankie defends. “I- she’s probably checking in with everyone. Tom died, Darc. It - it’s heavy shit. We all blame ourselves.” He quickly rationalizes. “I’m not talking to her, you told me not to and I’m - baby, I’m not going to jeopardize my relationship with you.” He tells her, reaching out to rub her arm.

Darcy shrugs off his touch, “don’t fucking lie to me!” She shouts, despite Ava being asleep. “She’s a whore. Trying to take you away from me. I see the way she looks at you. She wants to tear our family apart and you are letting her do it. You never touch me. We don’t have sex. It’s her, isn’t it?” Darcy cries, starting to sob.

“No, no baby.” Frankie shakes his head and wonders if she suspects something. Guilt and worry curling in his stomach. “No, you told me that I was treating you like my sex toy, I - I didn’t want you to think that’s all I wanted from you.” It was ironic when he used to want sex that she would complain, now he doesn’t even ask and she complains. “Only you, baby.”

Darcy sniffs, wiping her eyes, “yeah?” She asks and Frankie nods. “Good. I Don’t want you talking to her.” She narrows her watery eyes and shifts to sit beside him once more. She grips his chin and leans in to press her lips to his. “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” He can’t. She reminds him everyday and for the hundredth time since he came back, he wishes he had been the one killed. If it weren’t for Ava, he would have left her, long ago. But he knows she will never let him see his daughter again. “I won’t talk to her.” He promises quietly, mourning the loss of all of his friends since he has been with her. He will end up completely alone.

“Good.” She kisses him again, letting go of his chin and she settles in to watch the tv again. “You’re so good to me, baby.” She coos, sliding her hand down his chest to play with the buttons of his shirt, “makes me wet when you do what I want.”

Shit. He knows she wants sex now, especially since she’s brought it up. 

“Yeah?” Frankie grunts, capturing her hand and sliding it down and onto his thigh. “Let me go pee, baby.” He asks her. “That way we don’t have to worry about anything when I take you to bed.”

Darcy nods, biting her lip as she smirks and watches him go into the bathroom. Frankie locks the door behind him and braces his hands on the sink, looking into the mirror. He doesn’t want to have sex with her but he has no choice. If he doesn’t, she will hurt him again, either emotionally or physically and his biggest fear is her hurting Ava. He will take every slap and pinch she gives him if his daughter is safe. 

He finds the baggie he has hidden under the towels and in the linen closet. Working fast, he puts some onto the back of his hand and snorts it, wiping his nose. It’s enough to numb him to do what he needs to do, his thoughts drifting to you and how you looked riding him. He sniffs and hides the baggie again, splashing water on his face before he heads into the bedroom to do what he needs to do. 

**** 

“Is Frankie coming?” You ask Santi who glances at his watch. 

“He didn’t respond.” He says and you frown. No one has heard from or seen Frankie for weeks since you returned from South America and you don’t want to see him. He’s ignored you since you parted ways and you’re hurt. You thought your friendship would survive but he refuses to even text you back.

Frankie had barely been able to convince Darcy that if he didn’t show up to Benny’s fight that it would look strange. He had promised her he would just go to the fight, immediately coming home and he would have one beer. Nothing more. And he wouldn’t talk to you. Frankie shakes his arms and then wipes his hands on his jeans as he walks in, nervous about seeing everyone. The bruises on his sides twinge, reminding him of the promise he had made to behave.

Your eyes widen when you see Frankie sit down, shocked that he made it when Pope didn't think he would. His eyes meet yours after he greets everyone with a nod and you offer him a small smile that he returns until it drops, his eyes widening slightly before he turns his head away from you. Your heart twists with that and you wonder why he's actively avoiding you. He clearly regrets that night and now, so do you. Frankie's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Darcy. ‘Remember, one drink baby. Don't talk to her. Don't linger. I want you home as soon as it ends otherwise I won't be happy. Love you.’

Frankie swallows harshly and stows his phone, leaning over to Pope. “Gotta leave after the fight.” He yells over the crowd. “Baby’s not feeling good.” He lies, knowing no one would blame him for that. The fact that you lean in and he’s close to touching you makes him jerk back and sit straight, sure that Darcy would catch your perfume if he touched you, even innocently.

Darcy texts Frankie several more times throughout the fight, even asking him to take a photo of it to prove where he is. It's strange because she never accused him of cheating until he came back from South America. Maybe something changed, maybe he changed. He doesn't know but he concentrates on Benny and cheers him when he wins. "I gotta go. Tell Benny congrats." Frankie says as he slaps Santi on the shoulder and he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes. "See you later." He offers you a small smile then rushes off before the crowds try to leave and you frown, turning back to Pope.

 "Something isn't right with him." You assess and Santi nods, squeezing your shoulder until you focus on Benny as he approaches with blood smeared on his face from a broken nose but a wide grin from his win.

“Where’s Fish going?” He had seen his friend in the crowd as he was in the ring. He frowns slightly when he realizes that Frankie isn’t just going to the beer stand for another brew. 

“He had to go, the baby isn’t feeling good.” Pope tells him with a frown. “He told me to tell you congrats on your win.” 

Benny huffs and takes the towel that Will tosses him to wipe his face. “Something’s wrong with him. He’s not answering my texts, like- at all.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Will asks you, knowing you and Frankie have always been especially close. 

You shake your head, “I’ve texted him but I get left on read. I don’t know what’s going on. I- I am worried about him.” You confess and the boys nod. 

**** 

“What took you so long?” Darcy asks as she stands in the hallway. 

Frankie barely gets a chance to shrug off his jacket before she’s on him. “I hit all red lights, baby.” He explains and Darcy shakes her head. 

“It was her. Wasn’t it?” She accuses, “you fuck her in the bathroom? Mind you, you wouldn’t be that late coming home. You’ve never had the stamina, have you?” She laughs cruelly.

Frankie’s shoulders slump but he doesn’t rise to the bait, knowing it would just start a vicious fight. “No babe, I left as soon as the fight was over. I just got caught up at the lights.” He knows that he’s going to get slapped again. Since the other day, she’s slapped him on the cheek whenever she gets mad. Making him feel even more ashamed every time he thinks of hitting her back. Becoming the monster he’s always been afraid that he is.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” She surges forward to slap him and grips his chin, leaning in. “You even smell like cheap perfume. I can’t believe you.” She lowers her hand, “I give you everything. Sacrifice my body to give you a child. Give you a home to return to and you want to throw it all away for some whore who could never love you like I can.”

“I swear to you, Darcy.” Frankie whines, nearly flinching when she moves again. “I didn’t do anything, I sat by Pope. Maybe he’s seeing a new girl, I don’t know. I came straight home.”

Darcy stares at him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She says and spins on her heels, making her way back into the bedroom and she shuts the door, effectively locking him out of his room. Frankie looks down at his hands, shaking from both anxiety and anger. He hates Darcy but he can’t leave, his daughter isn’t safe around her. The other day Frankie found Ava gripping a knife and Darcy laughed and said it was nothing, she wants her to learn how to use utensils to be a proper lady. He strips down to his boxers and lays on the sofa, wishing he could escape this situation and keep his daughter safe but no one would believe him. 

**** 

It’s been a few days since Benny’s fight and the guilt of sleeping with Frankie is becoming too much. Darcy posted some photos of Ava and Frankie on her Facebook page with them out for brunch - her new designer bag on display - and you felt the heavy pit of guilt in your belly. You have to tell her and you’ll tell her it’s all your fault. Frankie will be at work so you make your way over to his house, ringing the doorbell and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as you wait for Darcy to answer the door.

Darcy huffs, pushing herself off the couch with an annoyed grunt. “Hold on!” She grumbles as she walks over to the front door and opens it. Annoyed and immediately glaring when she sees you at the door. “What the fuck do you want?” She hisses. “Frankie doesn’t want to talk to your pathetic ass, so do us both a favor and fucking leave him alone, okay?”

Your eyes widen and you know she has never liked you but her attitude takes you back. “I, uh, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I need to tell you something. Please. I, uh, I need to get it off of my chest.” You tell her and she crosses her arms, scoffing but allowing you to continue. “I slept with Frankie. In St Johns. We, uh, we were high and had a few drinks so we weren’t thinking straight and I’m so sorry Darcy. I wanted to tell you because you deserve to know and I can’t keep this secret any longer. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.” You admit and she chuckles, “every cloud.” Her comment makes you frown and you are confused, “you aren’t mad?”

Darcy snorts and shakes her head, “I knew that Frankie fucked you.” She lies with a nasty smirk on her face. “A pity fuck, that’s what he called it when he told me about it.” She shrugs slightly. “You know men, if a whore is gonna throw it at them, they’ll take it. Thank God you didn’t give him something, but he much prefers my pussy over yours. Said he can’t even look at you now, so disgusted with the thought of you naked.” She chuckles evilly again. “Might want to lose a few pounds.”

You feel your eyes sting and your stomach twist. Hearing what Frankie said about you makes you feel sick. Darcy could be making it up but why would she lie? She knows about what happened. 

“He said you were the worst sex he’s ever had. It was the adrenaline from surviving, he told me. He hasn’t talked to you because he didn’t want to embarrass you. You need to go. He’s my boyfriend. The father of my child. He’s mine. He belongs to me.” She says and you swallow down the lump in your throat, uneasy with her words but she’s not wrong. 

“Yeah. Uh, I- I’ll go. I wanted to tell you because I thought you deserved to know and, um, yeah. Bye.” You choke and she waves at you as you make your way down the driveway to your car. Pulling away from the curb, tears streaming down your cheeks and you curse that night, you curse Frankie Morales. Your heart breaks and you need to take some time to get over that asshole. He’s with Darcy and he loves her. 

**** 

“Baby, I’m home.” Frankie calls out and comes in to find Darcy sitting on the sofa, “come here baby.” She coos and he sets his stuff down before sitting on the sofa next to her. She leans in to kiss him and Frankie nearly flinches. “I missed you today.” She coos, caressing his cheek. 

“I missed you too.” He lies, “where’s Ava?” He asks and Darcy explains that she is at her parents’ house. 

“I wanted a romantic night in with you.” She says and Frankie feels repulsed but what can he do? “So…” Darcy trails off and grips his chin, “when were you gonna tell me you fucked the whore in St John’s?” She asks him, her eyes hardening.

“What?” Frankie shakes his head, immediately denying it. She’s been accusing him of cheating since he got back from South America. “Baby, why do you keep saying that?” He demands, making her squeeze his cheeks even harder. “The whore told me herself, Frank.” She spits, the spittle flying into his face and making him cringe. His heart sinks but Darcy keeps talking. “Bitch came to my house, wanted to ‘confess’ because she felt so guilty. She should, spreading her legs for you when she knows you have me, have Ava.” Frankie starts to shake, knowing that Darcy will punish him, badly, for you showing up and telling her what happened.

“You lied to me, Frank. Over and over. I’ve done so much for you. Sacrificed so much for you and this is how you repay me? By fucking the woman you’ve been in love with for years?” She hisses and Frankie shakes his head. “No use denying it. I know you love her. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve never looked at me like that. I knew you would leave me for her so I decided to take action. Poked holes in the condoms we used until I got pregnant. Wanted to make sure you were mine.”

Frankie gasps, nearly choking on his own breath at the knowledge that she had baby trapped him. “You-“ He growls, his head snapping to the side when she slaps him. 

“Don’t you fucking say a word, you cheating bastard!” She screams, her voice breaking because of how high it gets. “You humiliated me! All your bastard friends know, laughing at how you banged your whore.” This time, her fist is closed when she hits him, punching him in the jaw and Frankie grabs her hand. 

“Stop fucking hitting me!” He shouts.

She screams, wrenching her hand away and she stands up. “That’s it. I don’t know if this shit will happen again. It can’t happen again. I’m gonna invite her over here. Gimme your phone.” She orders and he shakes his head. She sees his phone on the kitchen counter, rushing over to pick it up and Frankie tries to follow her but she’s quick to grab a knife from the counter, aiming it at him and he knows he could take her down but not without hurting her.

“Darcy!” He barks, jumping out of the way of the knife and back several steps. “Are you fucking crazy?” He asks, watching the knife carefully as she spins around again and looks like she wants to murder him. “Put the knife down.”

She shakes her head and grabs his phone, texting with one hand to bring up your name and text an invite over to the house, she hits send and tosses the phone across the counter. "She'll come. I know she will. Fucking pathetic bitch can't leave you alone." She scoffs, waving the knife again. "And you're gonna let me talk to her." She laughs manically, setting the knife down and opening the drawer. Before she had Ava, Darcy was a nurse so it wasn't hard for her to procure what she needed. She grabs the syringe as Frankie approaches to try and get the knife away from her and she is quick to stick the needle in him, pressing down on the needle to push the sedative into Frankie's bloodstream. She wants him to watch you suffer but she knows he won't allow it so she needs him to be restrained.

****

Being drugged is nothing like getting high. Frankie groans, head pounding and his mouth feels dry. Trying to move his arms, he can’t and he tries harder, feeling the resistance that forces his eyes open.

“You’re awake. Good. She’s on her way.” Darcy reveals and Frankie shakes his head, trying to speak but he’s still lethargic. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take care of this. You’ll never truly love me until she’s out of the way. I’m gonna do what needs to be done.” She promises and picks up the gun she had taken from Frankie’s gun safe. She knows the password is Ava’s birthday so she was able to get into it.

“D-Dar-“ Frankie’s tongue is heavy and his mind is so jumbled from the drugs she had pumped into his system. He doesn’t want this, horrified that you might be killed because of his mistakes. He shakes his head again, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. His hands are bound, he’s zip tied to a kitchen chair. “D-don’t.” He croaks out.

You frown when you receive the text. Confused about Frankie’s invite to his house and the wording isn’t like the man you’ve known for years. You know something is wrong and you want to find out. Especially since Darcy had told you what Frankie had said. You get into your car and make your way over to Frankie’s house. Parking down the street, you sneak around the house and your eyes widen when you look into the house and see Frankie tied to a chair, and Darcy walking around with a gun in her hand. “Shit.” You curse, knowing you have to protect him and yourself and especially Ava. You step back from the house and call the police, explaining the situation, and after you hang up, you exhale shakily, anxious to keep Frankie safe.

“Darcy, think of Ava.” Frankie begs, the drugs wearing off and he is panicked. “You won’t get away with it. You’ll be in jail.” While he would love to be away from her, he is trying to keep her from killing you. “We’ll move.” He promises. “Sell the house and move across the country. Away from everything and start fresh.”

Darcy scoffs, "I will get away with it because you're going to help me deal with her after. Even if we moved across the world, she'd still be in your fucking mind. You won't forget about her. You'll still be tempted and I won't allow it. I can't. You're mine. You belong to me." She growls, fingers adjusting around the gun. 

Outside, the police arrive quietly, pulling up in their SUVs and you meet them to explain what's going on. "I think she's going to kill him. I think she's gonna try to kill me." You explain and the police officers nod, speaking into their radios.

Inside, Frankie is still trying to convince Darcy. “Baby, no. It was a mistake.” He lies, knowing that his time with you was the best he’s ever had. “I had done some Coke, just to- just to forget the image of Tom’s brains splattered on the fucking rocks.” He tells her. “I didn’t realize what I was doing and then I left, I didn’t talk to her. I haven’t had anything to do with her.”

Darcy shakes her head and aims the gun at him, her anger getting the best of her, “you’re a fucking liar. I know you love her. I know you love her more than me and if she was gone, you could love me like that. I want you to love me like that. Don’t lie to me. I know you want her. Have always wanted her.” Darcy shouts, just as the front door flings off of its hinges and the officers yell at Darcy to drop the weapon and get down on the ground.

Frankie shouts, begging her to put the gun down. Knowing they will kill her if she so much as twitches wrong. Not wanting Ava to deal with the fact that her mother was killed when she’s older. Darcy screams, incoherently and spins around on Frankie. “You bastard! You called them!” Despite the fact that there was no way he could have called the police. He had been tied up. 

“Darcy, no!” The shots echo in the house, deafening him and he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the pain to start where she shot him.

The bullet flew into the kitchen cabinet behind him and the other shots were the police taking down Darcy. Yelling fills the house as the officers rush forward, kicking the gun out of Darcy’s hand and checking her pulse. “We need an EMT. Now.” He says and speaks into his walkie. 

“Is she dead?” Frankie gasps as the officer comes towards him, pats him down before he lets him go. 

“Yes sir. She was a threat and she had a weapon.” He says and Frankie exhales shakily. 

“Frankie! Frankie!” You shout, pushing into the house despite the officers telling you to stay put. You run over to Frankie, cupping his cheeks, “are you okay?”

“I- no,” Frankie pants, staring at Darcy’s crumpled body and closes his eyes. “She was gonna- she was gonna kill you.” He manages before he lowers his head and tries to keep from sobbing, relieved that you are here and safe.

Your eyes widen, “kill me? Because we - oh God.” You choke, putting it all together when she had Frankie tied up and the gun in her hand. “Shit. She wanted to kill me.” You whisper and the police officers come over to escort you and Frankie outside and they take Frankie aside to take his statement but he wants you to stay with him. Reluctant to have you out of his sight, you stand beside him as he starts to give his statement.

Frankie starts to tell them everything. The abuse, the escalating violence. He pulls up his shirt to expose the bruises. How erratic Darcy had been acting, although he doesn’t mention the trip to South America, just that things had gotten worse since he had come back from out of town. He hates it, feeling humiliated as the police look at him first with disbelief and then pity as he continues to tell them about being abused by his girlfriend. He can’t look at you right now, afraid you would be disgusted with him for not manning up like Darcy always told him to do.

You feel sick. Hearing what Darcy did to Frankie has you wanting to scream and cry and make the world burn. You want to go and get a gun and kill Darcy again, just for the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. Tears sting in your eyes and the officer takes his statement and tells Frankie he can’t stay in the house so you wipe your cheeks and say that Frankie can stay with you. You turn to look at him, hands reaching out but pulling back in case he doesn’t want to be touched. “Frankie. I- I’m so sorry. I- I should’ve known. I should’ve helped you. I - shit. You - the ways she’s hurt you.” You choke, wishing you could go back in time and keep him safe from Darcy.

“No.” Frankie shakes his head. “She- she would have hurt Ava.” He tells you breathlessly, trying to keep his emotions bottled up. “They- they never would have given me custody. I would- I had to protect her. If she was hitting me, she wasn’t hitting our little girl.”

You can tell Frankie is on the edge and you want him to be safe before the emotions hit him finally. “Come on, let’s go back to my place. Where’s Ava?” You ask with wide eyes, worried that the little girl is in the house still. 

“She’s at Darcy’s parents house. They - oh God. I gotta tell them - Darcy is dead.” He says with a whisper and he hates the fact that he’s happy about that for himself but not for Ava. “She’s safe for tonight. You’re in no state to be around her. Come to mine and you need to sleep.” You say, grabbing your keys from your pocket and guiding him up the street while the police handle his house.

“I don’t- I tried.” Frankie rambles as you steer him towards your car and open the door for him. “I stopped talking to everyone, stopped doing anything that would set her off.” He doesn’t understand why she hated him so much. Was he just that horrible? “Nothing- I failed at everything. I was- wasn’t good enough.”

“Frankie.” You shake your head as he gets into the car, “this isn’t your fault. Darcy was an abuser. You aren’t to blame for how she treated you. You are a good man. She - she was wrong. She abused you.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye as you look at his distraught face.

“Poor Ava.” He bites his lip and closes his eyes tight, trying not to cry. “She- she’s gonna grow up with me and I’m gonna fuck her up. I - she always told me I was useless.”

You kneel down beside the car, “can I touch you?” You ask, wanting to hold his hand and he nods. “Francisco. You are the best father. You’re a good man. You’re not going to fuck Ava up. Darcy would have. She would’ve manipulated her like she did you. You are going to get through this. It’s gonna take a while but you’ll be strong for Ava. You can do this. I promise you.” You squeeze his hand, hating how broken he looks.

“Are you sure?” Frankie asks quietly, clinging to your hand. “I- I have to admit something.” He tells you. “I had been thinking that I should have been the one to die on that mountain. That way it would be over for me.” He sees the horror on your face. “But you- that night- it’s how I’ve been keeping sane lately. Remembering you, that night.”

You want to sob then and there, hearing that Frankie wanted to die because of Darcy. It makes you even angrier but you control yourself and place your hand over his holding yours. “Darcy has hurt you and you need to heal from that. Ava loves you. The boys love you. I love you. You’re so loved and we need you, Frankie. She’s gone and you’re still here. It will take time but you’ll be what Ava needs.” You assure him.

“How could I let it happen?” He asks seriously. “I’ve fucking killed people, and my girlfriend was abusing me?” He sounds bewildered because he is unable to rationalize that in his mind. “I don’t- I didn’t stop it, I just- I guess I am less of a man.”

You shake your head, “you didn’t stop it because of Ava. Because you are a good man and you didn’t want to hurt Darcy even though she was hurting you. You’re not less of a man. You were manipulated and abused. Mentally controlled. Verbally and physically abused. Sweetheart, this isn’t your fault.” You promise him, “this isn’t your fault.”

Frankie sighs, feeling exhausted. “I couldn’t let her kill you.” He admits quietly. “I- I almost hit her, but she knocked me out with something.” He looks into your eyes. “Can you-? I just want to get out of here. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

You nod, letting go of his hand and you make your way around the car to get in the driver's seat. You start the engine and make your way down the street past the police cars and the black van so you can get Frankie somewhere safe. He’s quiet for the drive and when you pull up on your driveway, you cut the engine and look at him, “do you want something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” He murmurs quietly, looking at the front of your place. He honestly wants to shower until his skin is red and then sleep for the next year. “Can- can I shower?” He asks, turning his head quickly and looking at you with wide eyes. “I- I need to feel clean.”

“Of course you can.” You hate that he asks you like that. Like you’re going to slap him for inconveniencing you. “Come on.” You say and open the car door, moving fast to unlock your home so he can get comfortable. “You know where the guest room is. You can stay as long as you like. There’s fresh towels and I think I have a pair of your sweats from when you stayed over a few years ago when you were having your house painted.” You say and he nods, making his way to the bathroom. When he shuts the door, you allow the tears to fall. How did you not see this? How did you let him be abused by Darcy? Why didn’t you check on him more? You feel incredibly guilty.

Inside the bathroom, Frankie turns on the shower and sits on the toilet seat. Shell-shocked and unable to believe what happened. Having a small breakdown when he imagines what could have happened if the police hadn’t come and you had walked into his house. If Darcy had killed you. He slaps his hand over his mouth, starting to sob and trying to keep it quiet.

You wipe your eyes and splash your face with water. You know you didn’t have a clue about the abuse Frankie was facing and you wonder if your presence triggered her or if you made it worse in some way. Her words when you went to tell her about you and Frankie ring in your ears when you remember how vehemently she declared Frankie to belong to her. You wish you had seen the signs. You have to be strong for Frankie though.

Eventually, Frankie climbs into the shower and nearly burns his skin off, scrubbing harshly with the soap and rag to feel clean again. If the tears mix with water and slide down the drain undetected, he doesn’t acknowledge them. Waiting until the water runs icy cold before he turns it off and steps out to wrap a towel around his waist. The bruises are visible. Some fresh and dark purple, others a sickly green and yellowish, making him grimace in the mirror as he traces them before turning away and opening the door. Grateful that you have given him a place to stay tonight.

You look up when Frankie exits the bathroom and comes into the living room with the towel wrapped around his waist and you see the bruises. You choke on your breath, tears in your eyes and you stand up to walk over to him. “Can I- oh God. Frankie.” You sob, reaching up to gently wrap your arms around him and you feel the guilt almost suffocate you.

“I’m okay.” He’s not, but he will be. Overwhelmed by the fact that he is free, he wraps his arms around you and crushes you against him, burying his face into your neck. “Thank you.” He whispers. “For being here.”

“Always, sweetheart. I’m always here for you.” You promise, sniffing as you run your fingers through his hair. “You’re okay.” You echo, “You’re safe.” You promise and you caress his neck. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” You murmur, knowing he must be exhausted. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” He whispers and you hum, “you can stay with me. If that’s okay?”

“Please?” It’s pathetic and he can hear Darcy’s voice in his head, reaming him for needing you to sleep beside him, but he tries to ignore that. Sighing softly in relief when you take his hand and guide him towards your bedroom. He needs to be near you, to know that you are okay and that he is safe. It was another reason he had gone with you that night you were together. He had been terrified it had been you on that mountain and then relieved that you were still with him.

“I have your sweats. I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’ll be five minutes, okay?” You ask and he nods. You caress his back and make your way into your bathroom, getting ready for bed. Once you’re in your tank top and shorts, you shut the door behind you and see that Frankie is already in bed. You turn off the lamp and slide under the covers, wrapping your arms around him. “Goodnight Frankie.”

Frankie sighs, relaxing when he wraps his arms around you. Closing his eyes and pressing his nose into your hair. “Goodnight, and thank you again.” He squeezes you tight and settles into the bed, holding you close.

**** 

It’s been six months since the night Darcy tried to kill you and Frankie has been going to therapy. He is in a much better place and is a loving father to Ava. During his therapy sessions or other appointments, you look after Ava. Darcy’s parents were ashamed of their daughter and her abuse, they have been giving Frankie some space until he is ready to have them back in Ava’s life. 

You look up as Frankie comes into the house and Ava rushes over to him, “dada! Dada!” She cries and he bends down to pick her up, kissing her cheek. 

“She’s been a good girl?” He asks you and you stand up from the rug scattered with toys. 

“She always is.” You coo at Ava. “You want some coffee?” You ask and he nods, holding Ava on his hip. He moved a few weeks after that night, unable to live in that house full of horrid memories and his new place is cozy enough for him and Ava. He got his license reinstated and the boys have been supporting him through everything. Things are finally starting to look up as Frankie is able to process what happened to him at the hands of Darcy. You quickly prepare the coffees and get some milk for Ava along with one of the cookies she loves and she rushes over to eat the cookie on the rug, making you chuckle. “She can never sit still. Just like her father.”

“That’s because if I’m still, I’m gonna fall asleep.” Frankie jokes, smiling at the sight of Ava happily eating a cookie and watching TV. She hadn’t asked about Darcy much, and seemed to accept that momma had gone to Heaven and she wouldn’t see her anymore. In fact, he had often wondered if she had started being mean to Ava because the young girl seems so happy. “You are so good with her.” He tells you, taking the cup of coffee with an appreciative smile. “I don’t think you know how much I owe you.”

“Nothing. You owe me nothing. There’s nowhere else I’d be. I - I love Ava and you needed help. I couldn’t let you do this all on your own after dealing with Darcy. I wanted to help you because I love you both. So much.” You smile and pick up your own cup of coffee. Telling Frankie you love him has become second nature but the true depth of your feelings has never become a subject you’ve been brave enough to broach, especially since he’s been healing physically and mentally from Darcy’s abuse.

Frankie’s stomach flips and he takes another sip of his coffee. You’ve said you love him almost every day and you don’t even know how much it means to him. He’s talked about you in therapy, about his feelings for you and the therapist has encouraged him to start talking to you about them. About how he’s always been in love with you, how he’s still in love with you. That despite what Darcy put him through, he would like to see what could happen with you in a relationship. “I love you too.” He tells you honestly.

His words make your heart thump and your eyes meet his over your cups of coffee, but you don’t get your hopes up that he means he’s in love with you. He’s been through so much. The last thing he probably wants is to get into a relationship. He needs time to heal and to ensure Ava is happy and safe. “I know you do.” You tease softly, “it’s the pasta dish I make, isn’t it?”

“It’s the fact that I’ve always been in love with you.” He admits, setting his coffee mug down and shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes are searching yours and he’s reminding himself that you wouldn’t react harshly, even if you didn’t feel the same way. “I don’t know what you want. Or how you feel, but Dr. Thomas said that I should talk to you.”

Your eyes widen as you realize he’s serious and you set your coffee cup down so your shaking hand doesn’t spill it everywhere. You stare at him for a moment from the other side of the kitchen and you bite your lip. “You want to know how I feel? I’ve been in love with you since we first met. That night we all went out to the bar to get to know each other and you bought that hat off of some guy in the parking lot. I have been in love with you every day since then and I’ll be in love with you every day from now on. I love you, Frankie. With everything I am.”

He closes his eyes, nodding. As he absorbs the idea that you feel the same way that he does. Feeling the warmth settle in his chest and he bites his lip as he opens his eyes. “I-“ he steps closer to you and reaches for your waist. “I would think about you.” He admits softly. “When Darcy was being really bad, I would remember that one time we were together. It - it saved me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest and simultaneously breaks when you hear that Frankie had to escape like that. You swallow harshly and reach up to cup his cheek, “I wish I could take away everything she did to you.” You whisper, caressing his cheek.

“I -“ he leans into your touch and sighs. “It doesn’t matter now. I just want to move on.” He admits quietly.

“You can move on. You need to confront what happened, be stronger from the experience and move on.” You murmur, leaning in to gently kiss his chin, his stubble scratching your lips. “I love you, Francisco.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. “I want to kiss you sober.”

You nod, moving slowly so he can pull back if he wants and you lean in to softly press your lips to his. It’s gentle and sweet and everything you’ve wanted with Frankie, your body lighting up at the connection. You don’t move to deepen the kiss, wanting him to control this.

He sighs again, sliding his arms up and around you. Softly pulling you closer. He doesn’t think that you will push him away but he wants to give you the time to. If you want to keep it simple.

His hands squeeze your waist and you lean into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You whimper when his tongue slides against yours and it’s like coming home, like you belong here with him at this moment.

Frankie wants to live in this moment. Feeling your hands on his body, worshiping him with your fingers as they caress his neck. His daughter laughing at her cartoon, safe and sound. He kisses you until he feels like he can’t breathe. Pulling back and smiling at you. “Stay tonight?” He asks softly.

You nod, breathless and lips swollen from his kisses and you whimper when he kisses you again. **** 

“She’s asleep.” You tell Frankie as you walk into the living room after putting Ava to bed. She had clung to you for a while until she finally passed out on your shoulder and you put her to bed. Frankie looks up from his phone and sets it down. “You don’t have to put the phone down.” You assure him softly, “I’m not gonna check it.” You promise, knowing that’s part of his learned behavior with Darcy.

“I was texting Benny.” He tells you with a self depreciating grin. “He’s checking on me. Again.” He had been embarrassed, but he told them all what had been happening. Since then, all of them checked in with him at least once a day. He knows they are worried, wanting to make sure he doesn’t start using again.

You come and sit down beside him on the sofa, reaching for his free hand. “They love you. They all wanna make sure you’re okay.” You say and squeeze his hand. “Baby, you’re doing so well.” You praise him.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckles quietly and he squeezes your hand. “I don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything.” He tells you. “But, I - I want to.” He admits. “I’ve been- I jerked off in the shower before you came over.” The therapist had urged him to not hide his needs and to be honest with you. So he is.

You inhale sharply, your stomach twisting with arousal, and you’ve been trying to hide your attraction to him, uncertain if he wants to touch or be touched after suffering such a traumatic event. You shift a little closer to him, “I want to- I want you. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I just want you, Frankie.” You murmur, leaning closer to softly kiss him.

He hums into the kiss, his memory of your only night so far is burned into his brain but he wants something different. That was lust fueled, frantic. “I want to make love to you.” He whispers, moving to kiss along your jaw. “We fucked the last time, I want to make love to you.”

You lean into him, moaning softly at the thought, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, “I would love that, sweetheart.” You murmur, leaning back so you can kiss him properly. His tongue slides against yours for a moment until you pull back, “take me to your bed.” You order softly but you want him to be in control tonight. He has to be comfortable.

He’s nervous now that he’s not high. That he’s doing this with a clear mind. Old anxieties spring to the surface but he pushes them down. You aren’t Darcy and you wouldn’t criticize everything he did in bed. He’s already half hard, proving that he didn’t have any issue getting it up for you.

You stand up and hold your hand out to him. He takes it and escorts you to his bedroom. The bed is messily made but you don’t care about that when Frankie is pulling you close again. “I love you.” You murmur, cupping his cheeks before you lean in to kiss him. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt and you pull back so he can drag it over your head. “Can I take your shirt off?” You ask him and he nods. You move fast to take his shirt off, caressing his skin - free of bruises and no physical scars, except the ones he got in battle, displaying the abuse he endured. “So handsome.” You murmur, admiring him.

Frankie twitches slightly, not that he doesn’t believe you think that, it’s just he’s always been a bit reserved. The other guys were hit on more than he was, though he did alright. He reaches for you, wanting to see your body again. Compare it to the memory he has. “I love you. You are gorgeous.” He hated all the hateful things Darcy had said about you, none of them true. His hands slide under your shirt and he groans as he reveals your plain bra.

You feel gorgeous under his touch, despite the comments from Darcy. You reach down to squeeze him through his pants but he drags your bra down your arms and he’s ducking his head to wrap his lips around your nipple. You gasp, gripping his shoulders, “Frankie. Shit.” You hiss when he bites down, making your cunt clench around nothing.

Frankie moans, his cock fully hard and pressing against his fly. He loves the way that you respond to him and the way your nipple tightens in his mouth. Fingers trance up your spine before he works on undoing your jeans. Wanting to see all of you, touch you. Your taste is still a flavor on his tongue, but he wants to drown in it.

You whimper when he switches to your other breast and whine when he pulls back so he can push your jeans down your legs. “Fuck baby.” You gasp when his hand slides between your legs to rub your clit through your panties.

“Let me make you feel good.” He begs softly. He’s not doing this because he has to. He’s doing it because he wants to, he needs to. His fingers rub the material, groaning around your nipple with the wetness that starts to soak through.

You whimper, rocking your hips down to meet his fingers, and you grip his shoulder while your other hand reaches down to squeeze him through his jeans. “I’m yours. You can do what you want.” You promise him.

“I’m yours too.” He promises, twitching under your touch and loving how eagerly you want him. He pushes under your panties and starts to slowly stroke your clit as he kisses back up your chest and then to your lips.

You moan into his mouth, snaking your hand into his boxers, squeezing him as his fingers rub your clit. “Fuck baby. Never forgot how thick you are.”

“Yeah?” He’s proud of the fact that you think he’s thick. “Do you like it? Thick, I mean? Did it feel good?”

“I loved it.” You promise him, jerking him slowly as his fingers rub your clit and you close your eyes as his lips kiss along your neck. “I love you. Everything about you. Even your demons. I love every part of you. Accept every part.” You promise breathlessly as you squeeze him. “God, I need you inside of me.”

“You don’t want me to eat you out?” He asks in surprise. He had thought you had enjoyed it that night but maybe you just didn’t want it right now. “You’d rather I fuck you?”

You can tell he’s anxious and you pull back to look at him. “Baby, your tongue is literally magic. I never came from oral before your tongue came along. I loved it.” You reassure him, “I just - I want to feel connected to you.” You explain, hoping he understands that this is more than just sex. You want to feel him in your bones, in your soul.

Frankie smiles, relieved that you had cum. He had sworn you had, but he had also been high. “I get it.” He promises you, reluctantly pulling his hand out of your panties and starting to drag them down. “I want to be connected to you too.” He smirks slightly, feeling confident that it will be amazing. Everything with you is amazing.

You smile and caress his cheek with your free hand and you reach down to shove his boxers down his legs. He is throbbing and you want him to feel loved, to feel cherished. You sink down onto your knees, looking up at him. “I love you.” You declare and lean in to wrap your lips around his cock after gripping him. You want to make him feel good, feel cherished.

“Oh fuck.” Frankie chokes out the sound and tries not to buck his hips forward. Chasing the sweet heat of your mouth and the way you softly suckle him. “So good baby. Fuck, baby.” He coos softly, reaching down and stroking your cheek. You look so fucking pretty with his cock in your mouth. “I love you so goddamn much.” He promises, knowing that you don’t pity him for what happened.

You moan around his cock, loving how he is caressing your cheek and praising you. You love how comfortable he is, no longer ashamed of himself after months of therapy. You pull off of his cock, jerking him with your hand, "I love you. You want to cum down my throat or inside of me?" You ask, wanting him to choose.

“Inside.” He croaks out, pulsing in your hand at the thought. “I want to be inside you, so deep I don’t know where I stop and you start.”

You let go of him and shift to stand up, leaning in to kiss him. "How do you want me?" You ask and he murmurs against your lips, "on your back." You nod, shifting to lay down on his bed, naked and aching for him.

Frankie takes his time, standing up and slowly stripping. Watching as you lay down on the bed and spreading your legs to show him your dripping cunt. “So fucking gorgeous and all mine.” He groans, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to expose his pre-cum stained boxer briefs.

You moan, “all yours baby.” You shift onto your elbows so you can watch him strip off, his pants kicked aside and his fingers wrap around his cock to slowly pump himself. “I’m yours. Always have been. Since we met.” You promise, chest heaving as he kneels on the bed.

“I wish I had Ava with you.” He admits as he shuffles closer. “You are perfect, great with her too, not just me.” He slides a hand along your thigh. “I used to dream of us being a family.”

You look up at him, “we can have a baby together if you want. Give her a sibling. Not now. But when we are ready.” You tell him.

“Yeah?” He groans quietly, imagining how good you would look round with his baby. “I want that. One day when we’re ready.” He slowly strokes his cock again before moving into position between your thighs.

You inhale deeply, eyes focused on him, and when he notches himself at your entrance, shifting onto his elbows, and you reach up to caress his chest as he starts to push inside of you. “I love you, Francisco.” You murmur softly, looking at him with adoration as he pushes inside of you.

It’s slow. Healing almost, as he closes his eyes. Head pressing against your forehead as he lowers himself on top of you and slides his arms under your back. “I love you, baby.” He promises breathlessly. “So much. You’re my everything.”

You whimper as he pushes into you. “Everything.” You echo, knowing it’s always been true. You caress his back as he pushes deep inside of you and you feel full and complete. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you look at him to take in the moment.

Frankie groans your name when he bottoms out, feeling like he’s home deep inside you. The look of adoration in your eyes makes him want to cry and he knows that Darcy never looked at him that way, not even in the beginning. He leans in and presses his lips to yours, twitching when he does.

You caress every inch of skin you can reach, loving how he feels inside of you, and you kiss him tenderly, unrushed. You want this to last forever. You murmur his name against his lips and he starts to move inside of you, making you gasp.

It’s overwhelming. Every time he rocks his hips he feels like he’s in Heaven. Holding you tight and groaning your name as he kisses you over and over again.

You pant into his mouth, heart pounding and skin on fire as rocks into you. It’s sweet and unhurried and takes your breath away. “Fuck, Frankie. This is better than last time.” You confess as he kisses down your neck.

It is better than the last time. Both of you are sober and there’s no lingering guilt because of Darcy. Nothing but the two of you and the pleasure that your love can bring to each other. “I know.” He rasps out. “Never want it to end.”

“Me neither.” You gasp as he rocks into you and you lift your hip, changing the angle, and it makes your breath hitch as he hits something incredible inside of you. “Shit. There, Frankie.” You pant and he nods, brow furrowing as he rocks into you, focusing on that spot. “Oh God.” You cry softly, “oh shit. That’s - oh I’m gonna-” You whine, clamping down on his cock seconds later.

Stealing his breath, Frankie watches as you come apart under him. Barely able to move as you hold his cock in your spasming walls, he grits his teeth as he tries not to cum. Wanting to make it last a little longer. Although he knows he’s going to wrap himself around you all night rather than slink off in shame.

Your eyes are clenched shut as the pleasure surges through you, making your toes curl, and you know you could never live a day without Frankie. You need him now like you need oxygen. “Fuck baby. I- oh God.” You pant, walls relaxing after you soaked his cock with your cum.

“That’s it, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He praises breathlessly, kissing down your jaw. “Love you so much, need you. Want you forever.” He can’t imagine anything else but you.

His words make your heart pound in your chest and your entire body is responding to him. “I need you. Forever, Francisco. I’ve always been yours. I belong to you.” You promise him with a sigh.

He groans quietly as he starts to move again. Knowing that he will cum soon, he slides a hand between you to rub your clit. “Yours baby, I’m yours.” With Darcy, it had been forced, but with you it’s completely honest. “Want you to cum again, baby.”

You whine softly, overstimulated but he pushes you over into pleasure again and you tangle your fingers in his hair to drag his lips back to yours. You wrap your legs around his hips, pushing him deeper and trapping his hand between you. You whimper into his mouth, getting closer until you fall over the edge again, clamping down on his cock.

This time, Frankie is right there with you. Choking out your name as he pushes deep, wanting to be just as buried as he can manage to be when he starts flooding your womb with his hot seed. Panting with every spurt until he’s collapsing on top of you and pressing his lips to your neck.

You caress his back, eyes closed as you realize he’s safe and you’re together. Everything you ever dreamed to come true is now true and you’ll spend the rest of your life protecting him, loving him. He’s still healing but soon, you want to be his wife, the mother of his children, and spend the rest of your days by his side. It’s a bright future with Frankie, something he never imagined possible: a future with you, him, and your children.

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Lupin & Tonks: Order of the Phoenix Moments

If you've ever looked for all the Lupin & Tonks moments in OotP, look no further. I spent some time today compiling all the times we see Lupin and Tonks together (so you don't have to), with a few of my own notes for each of these moments. Something that came up for me while compiling this: we rarely see Tonks without Remus. If Tonks is anywhere near Harry, you can almost guarantee that Lupin is there too. I don't think this is coincidental.

We meet Tonks when we see Lupin in The Advance Guard. Tonks has a few sassy lines until Lupin introduces her as "And this is Nymphadora--". Tonks of course tells him not to call her Nymphadora (she calls him Remus), and then Remus finishes with "--Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only." My own notes: like many Remadora fans, I see this as subtle flirtation on Remus's part. Is it conscious? Probably not. I like to think he likes to rile her up every now and then because he finds it charming.

Lupin and Tonks carry Harry's trunk together in the next chapter. I picture Lupin behind Tonks so he can check out her trunk ;)

We learn from Harry that Remus steps in to help with cleaning Grimmauld Place, and sometimes they're joined by Tonks (she helped remove a ghoul from a toilet). This gives us an idea that Remus and Tonks are spending time together--with others around, presumably--in addition to any Order missions. I have a little HC that when Tonks comes over and Remus is at GP, he drops whatever he's doing to come see her and help with cleaning (even if he hates it).

We see Tonks again at the beginning of ch. 7, The Ministry of Magic. Harry wakes up and finds Arthur, Molly, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks waiting for him. Tonks is tired but immediately greets Harry. Meanwhile, Remus: "Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, 'What were you saying about Scrimgeour?'" I find it interesting that Tonks greets Harry while Remus just takes a look at him and goes instantly back to talking to Tonks. Harry: mild panic over upcoming hearing. Remus: glance and go back to talking to his crush. I HC that at this point, Remus is still unaware that he is developing feelings for Tonks, and Tonks is clueless about it.

Tonks shows up for the prefect party thrown for Ron and Hermione. Harry notices her with Sirius, Lupin, and Kingsley. Tonks wears her hair long and red, which makes Harry think she looks like Ginny's older sister (a high compliment, considering Harry finds Ginny very pretty). Tonks also says she wasn't a prefect, and then Harry finds out Sirius wasn't either, nor was his father, James.

Both Lupin and Tonks accompany the kids to King's Cross. Tonks goes with Harry (she's morphed as little old lady), while Lupin arrives with Ginny, Fred, and George. I picture the gang going back to GP, with Sirius in a great mood, and then Lupin and Tonks having some more bonding moments.

(The only time we see Tonks without Lupin is when Arthur is attacked and the kids go to St. Mungo's. It's Mad-Eye and Tonks who take the kids across London to the hospital.)

Lupin and Tonks escort the kids back to Hogwarts via the Knight Bus. Tonks is disguised as a tall, tweedy woman, and Lupin leads the way to the bus. It's a bit unclear if Lupin and Tonks take the Knight Bus back to London or if they Apparate away. As Harry only mentions the bus having disappeared, I assume that Lupin and Tonks went back on the bus to have some quality time together.

(We get a good bit of Lupin when Harry sees Snape's Worst Memory. One of the few times Tonks isn't around Lupin, but I think it's the middle of a workday and Remus and Sirius have nothing better to do than sit around at GP and relive the good old days.)

Tonks and Lupin show up at the Ministry in ch. 35, Beyond the Veil. Tonks gets seriously injured by Bellatrix and topples down many stone seats. Lupin tells Harry to take the others and go. Then Sirius dies and Lupin holds Harry back from going after him. We learn later that Tonks likely had to spend some time at St. Mungo's, but she should make a full recovery. I always like various interpretations of this injury and its impact on Remus: does he panic when he realizes she's unconscious? Is he there with her at the hospital? Did he bring her there? Is that when he meets her parents? So many options for these scenes.

The last time we see Tonks in OotP is at King's Cross. She's recovered, has bright pink hair, patched jeans, and a Weird Sisters t-shirt. She's standing next to a shabby-looking Lupin. She joins in the effort of intimidating the Dursleys, her sentence being finished by none other than Lupin. Tonks: "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry--" Lupin, finishing her thought: "--and make no mistake, we'll hear about it."

All of these moments are from Harry's POV. We can assume that there are missions that Lupin and Tonks did together, and many more moments of bonding at Grimmauld Place with the Order. Tonks is with Lupin when we meet her for the first time in OotP and again when we see her at the end.

From Harry's POV, we can't really see their relationship building, but given what we know later in the series, it's not hard for me to imagine each of these moments as bigger points in time when Lupin and Tonks grow closer to one another.

[leviathanspain]

they find out + wedding + baby

headcanons of the weasleys + friends finding out bill is the father of your baby, a shotgun wedding and a very stressful birth

will i see you again? continuation

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after you and bill had talked, the weasleys all ushered themselves back into the dining room for an awkward dinner

but you and bill were holding hands, and that clearly didn’t go unnoticed

your father had raised his eyebrows at you but you waved a hand

i’ll explain later

but bill was whispering that his family had caught on

so abruptly, you stood up

bill and i had sex in a club one night in egypt and he’s the father of my baby

silence

like pin drop silence

molly had shrieked

and arthur was shaking his head

bill stood up

surprise! he laughed awkwardly

the twins erupted into laughter

honestly about tjme billy

we were getting worried!

bill nearly knocked them out at their comments but you had laughed

and so he laughed too

ron blinked, welcome to the family

i hope i get someone pregnant in a club too

ron had murmured until hermione smacked him

i was joking!

molly had clasped her hands together

when’s the wedding?

you and bill had looked at each other and shrugged

we haven’t gotten there yet

and that was how you ended up with a shotgun wedding, eight months pregnant

it was a beautiful wedding

although bill definitely had more fun than you

considering you couldn’t even drink and your feet were swollen

but you didn’t spoil his mood, letting himself enjoy himself

even if he was utterly wasted, he still cooed at your belly

i love you my pretty pretty baby

he would whisper before planting a wet kiss on your cheek and moving back out to dance

your father had danced with you just once after you danced with bill

but those were the only two times you danced

you didn’t even see bill the rest of the night

he and his brothers were gone off the face of the earth for two days after your wedding

you would’ve been mad

but you didn’t mind it at all really

he was having fun

days passed

you were ready to pop

and just almost two weeks later

you were at st mungos yelling your head off

bill had left the ministry early to meet you at the hospital

you grabbed his hand tightly

babe i think you’re breaking my fingers

your baby is breaking my pelvis, shut up

yes darling

the pain of labor was so intense

you could’ve passed out

you WISHED you passed out

but when you heard those cries

the pain had washed away

it’s a boy! the nurses announced and you smiled

bill, your voice was getting farther and farther

the room got serious again as the nurses handed the baby over to bill and ushered him out

my wife-

we will do everytbing we can

the wait was excruciating

bill couldn’t even comfort his own baby as his mother was dying

his family reassured him that she would make it

but bill was a cynic

and they were right

you were awake

groggy and definitely still not in the best shape

but good enough to see bill and the baby

bill brought the baby in

say hi to mama

you laughed as best as you could

he’s got red hair?

obvi, bill laughed

and he’s chunky too

nine pounds of weasley muscle

you looked at the baby in his arms and your heat swelled

have you thought of a name ?

bill shrugged, i thought you did

we can figure it out later

baby weasley went unnamed for a whole month

kinda embarrassing since people were asking what his name was

but finally bill came around to choosing one

and it was perfect

your little family

[blackbat05]

At my side

Fred Weasley x Reader

Plot: When you start to show cracks, a concerned Fred wants to intervene.

Genre: Angst/Comfort, PG-13

A/N: Haven’t been writing as much but when I do the trauma really shows?🤡 But in all seriousness, if you’re going through a tough time, I hope this piece can comfort you slightly. May there be better days.

Fred hears the door unlock, followed by the sound of you removing your shoes and coat. A loud groan emits from that rickety old chair at the dining table and Fred finds you slumped on the furniture, hand clasping a bottle of Butterbeer.

“Tough day?”

You give a wan smile and take a swig of the drink. Your head was still buzzing from the day’s events and you didn’t want to bring any troubles back.

“Dinner?” You asked, hoping to deflect the question. Fred tells you that Molly had sent over basil rice with tomato soup earlier in the day and had saved some for you. You notice that he’s still looking at you. Not wanting to crack under his gaze, you excuse yourself to wash up.

Alone in the bathroom, you find yourself heaving a sigh of relief. You go through the motion quietly and despite being clean, all you want to do is to curl up in bed and sleep the weekend away.

“Hullo love.” Fred appears at the doorway and you already dread where this is going. You have to act normal so you nod nonchalantly. Fred gets beside you.

“Everything okay? You seem sad.” Fred makes an astute observation.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired that’s all.” Your voice is a little too high pitched. You don’t want to tell him how you overheard malicious gossip at your temporary job as a healer assistant. Somewhere along the lines of how Fred was a successful, self-made entrepreneur and you were just there for the ride. It hurt even more because it was true.

“Sorry, Fred.” You interrupt. “I’m rather beat, I’ll go to sleep first.”

Before Fred can get another word in, you slip under the sheets and turn away from him. You’ve cried enough. You don’t want to make yourself weak in front of him.

***

Fred stops in front of the closed shop and leans naturally on the glass panel. Arriving at St Mungo’s, he’s greeted by staff and families buzzing around the reception area.

Holding a bag of food from your favorite Chinese restaurant, Fred sets off to find you. He gets off the third floor, and makes his way to the staff room where he’s sure to find you.

“She’s not going to move anywhere else! Not when she has that gorgeous ginger to provide for her.” A nasty voice emits from the room. Fred halts in his tracks and inches a little closer.

“I wish I could have her life,” another voice whines. “I would never have to worry about bills and have tea after passing time.”

Fred could smell the sarcasm from a mile away. The chorus of laughter only made his blood boil because he was no idiot, he knew that they were talking about you. So that’s why you were so gloomy yesterday. Fred has the urge to burst in there and give them a piece of his mind when-

“Fred?”

He turns around and you’re standing there holding a clipboard looking pale and shell-shocked. How much did he overhear from your nasty colleagues?

You manage to snap out of it and grab him by the wrist, pulling Fred to the lobby and out of earshot from curious eyes and ears.

“What was that? Was that why you were so sad?” Fred interrogates. “Tell me!”

You flinch at his accusatory tone. No. You will not be spoken to this way. The past couple of months had been hard on you. The passing of your grandmother coupled with the inability to get a stable job had took a toll on you. You were trying so hard to keep it together but sometimes, all you need is just a spark to start an inferno.

“Will you stop harassing me!” You snarl and Fred genuinely looks shocked at your sudden outburst. This wasn’t you. You were always bright and sunny despite whatever challenges that were thrown your way. The person that was in front of him was… downtrodden and beaten.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Your hands are tightly balled into fist. “I’m trying so hard to feel some sort of worth at a job where my colleagues think I’m a rich skank mooching off her boyfriend and that I’m doing this job to simply pass time.” You find your shoes very interesting at this point in time. “So if you have nothing useful to say, please leave.”

As the words tumble out of your mouth, a part of you cannot believe what you’ve just said. You’re a horrible bastard. You can’t bear to look at the expression on Fred’s face so you turn and stalk back to the ward where your “beloved” colleagues were probably wondering where you ran off to.

***

You apparated a few feet outside of your shared apartment, letting out a sigh. You weren’t looking forward to the conversation to be honest.

Be a big girl.

You open the door to silence and for a moment you think that Fred is still at the shop.

“Hey.”

Crap.

You turn around to see Fred at the kitchen, holding two mugs. “Can we talk?” He asks gently. You nod and wordlessly make your way to the dining table.

“Thanks.” You accept the mug of hot chocolate and are pleasantly comforted by the warmth gushing down your throat.

“About just now,” Fred starts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have turned up unannounced.” He fiddles with his hands, a sign that he still has more to say. “And I shouldn’t have been that hard on you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, it’s me.” You blurt out. “I know you were concerned. I didn’t want to tell you because you’ve been really busy with the shop and honestly, I thought I could handle it on my own. Those nosy witches, they’re more bark than bite.” Your insult brings a small smile on your face and this humors Fred as well.

As you let your guard down, suddenly the weight of the world falls off your shoulders and your cheeks start to feel wet.

“Oh,” you summon a handkerchief, “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’ve been too hard on yourself.” Fred frowns. “You’ve been through a lot. I wished I could have carried some of it for you.”

“You already have.” You hold his hand, thinking about how he insisted to be there for you when your grandmother passed away and never left your side once. As the tears rolled down your face, you realize one thing.

“You were there and I always want you to be by my side.”

You think about how if Fred was never there, you would have fought everything on your own. It wasn’t any easier now, but at least it wasn’t rock bottom.

Fred gives you a tight hug.

“Always.”

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts

Today's prompt is: calm.

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 7)

Summary: Rosie is brought to school in a police car, and it has nothing to do with her parents. What's more troubling is her attitude about the events afterwards...

Seven Years Old

Being brought to school in a police car by a uniformed police officer got me some unwanted attention, but there was nothing for it. (I say unwanted…)

Everybody thought it had everything to do with Papa’s detective work. A mistake easily made, but no, it had absolutely nothing to do with either parent, uncle or the DI at New Scotland Yard.

Dad and Papa were away for a few days, and Molly and I made a girl’s weekend out of it. We went to Madame Tussaud’s, Daunt Books, and St, James’s Park. Molly painted my nails, we applied hideous looking face masks and covered our eyes with slices of cucumber, watched the Narnia films, ate popcorn, ice cream, chocolate, pizza and Molly’s homemade scones.

When Monday arrived, I was eager to get to school and tell my friends all about the wonderful time I’d had. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth after breakfast when I heard Molly cry out and then a man’s voice spoke. Not a voice I was familiar with, and his speech was slurred. A commotion ensued.

“Stay calm. Focus. Deep breaths. You can do this, Watson.”

It was Papa’s voice, urging me into action with a calm tone, and I knew what to do. He and Dad had trained me for this if an emergency should occur.

Molly had a landline in her bedroom, so I called 999. The woman answering was very understanding when I told her, in as few words possible, that a man had forced his way into my godmother’s house, could she please send a car over asap.

We were in luck, because a car with two officers was patrolling the area. The doorbell rang a minute later. 

“The door is open. Come…”

Molly’s voice went suddenly muffled. The man was probably holding a hand over her mouth.

Bite him, Molly, I thought, but then the police entered, and chaos followed next.

***

It turned out that the man breaking an entering, was drunk, hence the slurred speech. He lived one street down, and evidently thought he was locking himself into his own house. Molly had left the door unlocked after she’d brought out the bins. We were after all about to depart minutes later. So, when this man saw Molly in “his” house, he thought she was a burglar.

Molly was a bit shaken, but the man had been too drunk to have the strength to harm her. Another car was called, and Miriam, one of the police officers, offered to drive me to school, lest I’d be late. (Actually, it was me who asked her.) The reason she acquiesced had probably everything to do with my heroic effort, and resourcefulness in saving the day.

I told Miriam all about Papa and that I knew Greg Lestrade. Miriam didn’t know them, but she’d obviously heard of the great Sherlock Holmes. I think she was a bit amazed that I was his daughter.

So, this is why I was delivered at school in a police car, just in time for my first class of the day. Our teacher was supposed to read us a story, but everyone, her included, was bursting with curiosity about this morning’s events. Now that I knew a bit more about the West End, as I was a part of the school’s theatre group, I gestured and dramatized as best I could, which seemed to have the desired effect.

***

That evening, Dad told me about what had happened after Miriam had driven me to school. Two minutes later, uncle Myc arrived, had a stern talk with Molly about locking her doors when his precious niece was in her care, and when Molly returned from work, a top-notch alarm system had been installed.

Also available on AO3

[asmodeus-682]

Headcanons! Heaven gang ver.

Heaven gang is Emily, Molly, Sir Pentious, St Peter and Alastor's mom

1. If Al's mom was to help at the Hotel, she'd be the chef.

2. Molly collects flowers and puts them in clear resin to preserve them.

3. Saint Peter often forgets pens when going to meetings, Emily always gives him one since she carries extra

4. Pentious always tells Al's Mom about her son when they hang out. He will also talk about Cherri and his Egg Bois.

5. Molly and Emily are pros at just dance

6. Similar to the previous one; Al's mom and St Peter are pros at Dance Dance Revolution

7. All of them hand out at the petting zoos most of the time

8. Pentious and Al's mom are the honorary baker chef of the group. Pentious being the best at baking and Alastor's mom being the best at regular cooking

9. Al's mom lets the others decorate her antlers (eg: putting bows and fake crystals on them)

10. Cuddle piles are a common activity for them

[geminialchemist]

Long post with Hazbin Hotel S1 spoilers!

While I don’t think it’ll happen, what I’d love to see from season 2 of Hazbin Hotel is an episode set in Heaven, directly after the events of S1E6 “Welcome to Heaven.” Preferably, this episode will be either the first or second episode of the season, with Adam still alive and kicking as Heaven prepares for the next Extermination Day.

Why do I want an episode like this? Simple. Because after what happened in S1E6, Heaven has to be in a lot of turmoil. I’m talking total chaos, protests in the streets kind of stuff. Think about it from the perspective of one of the winners. Hell, think of it from the perspective of Angel Dust’s sister in Heaven, Molly.

You’re Molly, and you’re dead, and end up in Heaven. Score! So you go searching for your twin brother, who died before you(probably, canon is unclear right now). You two were close, and you had the best relationship with Anthony out of anyone in your family.

You search for a while. A very long while. Heaven is a big place, after all. You don’t find Anthony anywhere. You ask around, and no one has seen or heard of him. Doubt builds up, as this can only mean one thing and you dread getting that answer. Finally, you go to the big name taker himself, St. Peter, and ask politely if your brother has been through the pearly gates, and you hear the worst news since you got to Heaven, he didn’t make the cut and is in Hell.

So now you’re asking around to find out if anyone has ever made it up from Hell and into Heaven. Surely someone has, right? But as you ask the angels and other winners around Heaven, you get a variety of replies, ranging from pity to some straight up laughing in your your face over the very idea that a sinner can be redeemed. The answer, no matter who you ask, is the same. A resounding “No.”

So, Hell is forever(whether you like it or not), and you’ll never see Anthony again. There doesn’t even seem to be a way to message sinners, or visit them. You don’t think he deserved his fate, but you can only hope that Hell isn’t as bad as everyone says it is, and that he’s doing well down there.

Then one day, someone from Hell is visiting Heaven, which is unheard of and is causing a ruckus. The Princess of Hell herself is here! After a song and dance number, you discover she’s here for a trial hearing about if a sinner can be redeemed or not. This is the best news you’ve heard in decades! You might have a chance to reunite with Anthony! You go to the trial, take a seat in the gallery of the courtroom, and what you find out is horrific.

Hell is worse than you thought. Your brother, Anthony, of all people, is the example the princess of Hell is using to make her case, and now he goes by Angel Dust, and is forced to be a porn star. Despite unknowingly passing every test that Adam and the Seraphim place on him, they still deem Anthony unfit for heaven, even as Emily argues against this, siding with Hell’s Princess. Why is the princess of Hell more concerned with your brother’s fate than Heaven, who are supposed to be the good guys?

And even worse, you find out that every year, Adam and a bunch of angels under his command go down and kill sinners, just like your brother. Adam slaughters them, and doesn’t hide his enjoyment of his actions, even proclaiming his intentions of attacking the very hotel that is trying to rehabilitate sinners as his first target for the next extermination. And the head Seraphim, Sera, says and does nothing to stop him. She absolutely condones his monstrous actions.

Heaven has been killing people, committing genocide, for who knows how long? Denying your family, friends, and loved ones who didn’t make the cut a chance to change, and then murdering them? Anthony has only managed to survive by luck or skill, and now his head is directly placed on the chopping block after he’s gone through all this effort to get into heaven in the first place?

And now the courtroom is in shambles, angels arguing over this earthshattering news that Adam and Sera have been hiding from them. Even some of your fellow mortal souls are torn into two camps, one who thinks the sinners deserve whatever is coming to them, and the other like yourself who don’t want their friends and family in hell to suffer even more.

You decide to Hell with Heaven. Torches and pitchforks all around as over the course of a month you do everything you can along with your fellow likeminded angels and Winners to get the extermination canceled. Protests, threats, petitions, you try everything, but it’s all in vain as Adam gathers his troops and goes down.

Thats what I wanna see in the start of season 2, with the Heaven focused episode ending with Sir Pentious arriving in Heaven, proving a sinner can redeem themselves, and putting an end to the conflict. But just because Heaven decides to end the exterminations and work to redeem sinners now that there is undeniable proof walking/slithering among them, doesn’t mean it washes away their own sins. Sera can’t bring back the millions who were killed by Adam and his legions, who now will never have a chance to be redeemed and reunite with their loved ones in Heaven. Molly wouldn’t even know if Anthony survived the last extermination.

Let there be a shake up in heaven, let there be lingering resentment towards the angels for what they’ve done, let there be some kind of conflict or consequences for the actions Heaven took. I always hate when a show glosses over stuff like this. I want the final shot of this hypothetical episode to be Sera and Em sitting in that room, with protests right outside their door, discussing what needs to be done. Sera wanting to continue the exterminations, even if if it angers the winners because she believes its in their best interests, and Em trying to get Sera to change her mind, and call off the attack, only for Sir Pentious to pop in like he did at the end of season one, ending their discussion because now Sera doesn’t have a leg to stand on anymore.

You can even keep a comedic angle by having the Winners be terrible at civil protests because they’re all so goodie two shoes. They don’t want to throw a brick through a window, that would be rude and mean!

[briarpotter]

B-9: The man she is about to marry happens to already have a wife and three kids. (Modified slightly into past tense.)

Pain. That was all she felt. All over her body. "Somebody get her to St. Mungo's!" She heard. She groaned at the pain. She felt herself being moved before she blacked out.

"What happened?" She heard someone ask. She recognized the voice as Harry's; her fiancé. She smiled to herself. She felt him slump on a chair next to her bed.

"How is she?!" Someone rushed in the room, clearly panicked. "I don't know. I haven't got a chance to talk to the healer." Harry said. "I'll go get them!" He exclaimed. She thought it was Ron.

He went out the room, and someone else came in. Someone female, from the sound of their voice. Was it Hermione? "What about the kids?!" Harry asked, worried. "They're fine. They're with Molly." She responded. Ginny felt Harry nod next to her.

The kids? Whose kids? Must be Victoire. But why would Hermione have been taking care of them? She tried moving her arms and opening her eyes. She found that she couldn't do either.

"I found the healer." Ron announced. "Oh, thank merlin! How is Ginny?" Harry asked. "We've already conducted tests, and we've found out that she has slight amnesia." The healer said.

"What?!" Both Harry and Hermione exclaimed. "Wait, what's amnesia?" Ron asked. "It's when a person can't remember events in their life, particularly after a tragic accident, or trauma." The healer explained.

"You mean like her falling off her broom from 30 feet?!" Harry shouted. The healer nodded. "Yes." "Healer Mason, is there any way to cure it? Potions, or some medicine?" Ron asked. So his name was Healer Mason.

"Sadly, there is no known cure to amnesia. Muggle or Magical. But, once she wakes up, you must find out what she remembers, and find something that would trigger the memories she's lost." Mason said. "Alright." All three of the nodded.

"You have kids, right?" Healer Mason asked Harry. He nodded. "Yes, well, I would advise not letting her see them until you know exactly what she forgot."  "Alright." Harry nodded. "Can I use your floo?" He asked. Healer Mason nodded.

"Clevedon Court!" He called, throwing a pitch of floo powder into the fireplace. "Hello Molly! Um, listen, Ginny might have amnesia, so the healer advises not letting her see the kids, so could you make sure they're in their rooms by the time we're home? We'll be there in a few hours." He explained.

“Our kids are fine, Harry, stop worrying. You only have to worry about yours.” Ron said, grinning. “I love my nephews and my niece, but they’re definitely trouble, just like their parents.” He added. “I’m honestly surprised that you convinced your wife to have a 3rd kid with you, especially after her cursing at you for weeks after being in labor for hours.” Hermione said.

Harry chuckled. “I wore her down eventually.” What?! The man she was about to marry happened to already have a wife and three kids. She tried to open her eyes, and groaned at the effort. Harry heard this and rushed to her side. Her eyelids flew open with difficulty and she sat up painfully. “How dare you?!” She glared at Harry. “W-What?” He stuttered. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“You proposed to me, and now you already have a wife and 3 kids?!” She ranted. “Ginny, love, calm down, please.” He pleaded. “Calm down?! Calm down?! How dare you tell me to calm down?!” She screamed. “Ginny, if you just let me explain-” Harry began. “Yeah, sure, explain how you’ve been cheating on me!” She cut him off.

“You’re my wife!” Harry exclaimed, frustrated. “We have 3 kids together! We’ve been married for the past 15 years!” “Oh.” She whispered. “I’m so sorry, Harry!” She apologized. “You didn’t deserve hearing all that.” She winced as she remembered what she had said. “I love you, okay? I’d never cheat on you.” She nodded and kissed him softly. Harry kissed her back, while Ron made gagging noises in the background, so Hermione glared at him to shut him up.

It proved effective, and she kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry, love, but you were being a bit annoying again.” Hermione explained. Ron chuckled and said, “I know.” He pecked her on the lips and smiled at Harry and Ginny. “We’ll take our leave, yeah? Take good care of her!” Ron stood up and head towards the door. Harry nodded. Hermione followed with a smile. “We’ll see you guys later to pick up our kids.” “Bye.” Harry said softly.

He turned back to face Ginny with a small smile on his face. “How you feelin’?” He asked. Ginny grinned. “Just fine.”

[anderperries]

okay but can we all agree that lucas got a vhs player in the hospital room for max and turned on a movie for the two of them that friday? are we all in agreement?

[georgiapeach30513]

Step Into My Ride, Part 3

Summary: why Chris hates Ransom so much.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, restraints/tied up, voyeurism, cream pie, mentions of drug trafficking, unexpected pregnancy, arrest, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

He had eyed you for a while. He had dropped not so subtle hints that he wanted to take you out. He was typically the type of man you went for, and you couldn’t come up with a good excuse to tell him no, so you went. Against your better judgment.

Chris was nice enough. He was good looking. He was a cop. He was a good boy, and came from a good family. Exactly the type of man your mother would want for you, and still something felt off. Conversation was fine. It was easy. He loved to talk about himself, and you listened. Smiled at the right times, and even added just enough to his conversation. You complimented him enough, and Chris liked it.

Chris, however, did not think about the restaurant that he had brought you. Didn’t think anything of how he met you. Didn’t even notice his cocky nephew walk in with his woman for the night, but you did. Yours and Ransom’s eyes meet immediately, and you have to look down to the table to get your gaze off him. The two of you had been noticing each other for awhile, but you and he both were with other people.

Ransom’s mouth turns up into a crooked smile when he walks directly to yours and Chris’ booth. You gulp, looking at anything but him. Wanting to completely ignore what was happening, and then Chris’ hand grips onto your thigh, “Was there no race, Ranny?” He asks as Ransom and his girl slide in.

Ransom’s arm goes around her shoulder, but his stare is intently on you. “You would know. Cops were out hot like crazy tonight. So we just gave up. Lost a lot of money on that race.”

“You don’t lose money,” Chris snarls, pulling you closer to him. “You just gain.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ransom’s voice is incredibly low, and you have to start fidgeting your fingers. He had this magnet that was pulling you closer to him. It was infuriating that you just had no self control, and you were on a date with someone else.

“Molly, I’d like you to meet my uncle Chris,” oh this was making things a lot more difficult. “Chris usually lets us know when the cops are a little crazy. Looks like he was preoccupied. So…what do you got here, Christopher.”

Chris introduces you to Ransom and Molly, and you immediately hate her. Hate that she had Ransom’s touching her, while you had a commanding hand on your thigh. Ransom leans back in the booth, his foot planting itself in between your own, and you try not to react. He was a cocky little fucker. Playing footsie with you while both of you were on dates. And you just so happened to be with his uncle.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this dame around. The past few times she’s been at the race, I’ve won big money. It’s like she’s my personal lucky charm.”

“And she’s on a date with me. You know, I think we should go,” Chris starts to edge himself out the booth, and both of Ransom’s legs hold you in place. He had no intentions of letting you go.

“I think you should stay,” his foot toes higher on you, and he chuckles when your legs drift further apart. “Come on, we hardly see each other anymore, Uncle Chris. I think we need to take this moment to spend some time together. What do you think, Lucky Charm?”

“Chris, we haven’t had dessert,” his booted foot rubs softly up and down your leg, getting as high up as your knee, and you get visions of fucking him in the bathroom. Making both your dates wait while he pounds into you with a hand over your mouth. “I hear they have really good cheesecake here.”

“I love cheesecake,” Ransom winks at you, and slick pools in your panties. Your body was heated up so much it was all the way in your cheeks. The urge you had to start grinding in your seat was making it harder to see. You wanted him. You wanted to push aside all reserves you had for Ransom. You need him all over your body. He was too bold not to know what he was doing.

“Fine. We’ll have dinner tonight. But then maybe you and I can spend some time alone. For our first date?”

“Yeah. Sure,” that wasn’t convincing in the slightest, and at least Ransom understood that. At this point you were throbbing so hard you were ready to sit in Ransom’s lap while everyone watched you bounce on top of him. It was unnatural and animalistic. But you wanted it.

Chris may be oblivious to things, but you weren’t. You saw everything. Ransom’s arm leaving Molly’s shoulder. The conversation quickly turning into just you and Ransom. The way you were trying to scoot away from Chris, and lean across the table to give Ransom your undivided attention. A moth to a flame. You were the delicate little moth, and Ransom was a ball of fire that you couldn’t look away from.

“Mother fucker,” Chris tosses his phone in his cruiser. Another call went straight to voicemail. There is no other place that you would be. He even saw you at the race for the first time. He had nothing else to lose.

He shouldn’t have left his post, but it didn’t seem like there was anyone checking for the hooligans trying to conduct an illegal race. There was a shift with you the moment that Ransom had sat down at the table, and he didn’t trust his nephew. Ransom always got whatever he wanted, and how he wanted it.

Chris was the bastard son of Harlan Thrombey. Barely even recognized by his siblings as one of them. Ransom was looked at as more important to the family, and he was a criminal. He was only a grandson.

“You son of a bitch,” Chris growls as he sees Ransom winning a race and going straight to you. Treating you like a common whore. His hand goes under your shirt, and cups your breast as he crashes his lips on yours. Basically fucking each other out in public. A needy little slut, and you were letting Ransom use you.

Trash. For all that Ransom had, he was trash. His mother and grandfather would be so disappointed. As would yours. Daughter of the school headmaster, and your mother was a model. Your grandfather was a state senator and grandmother the president of the D.A.R. Chris had looked into you. You deserved better than the life Ransom was pulling you into.

After this race there was only one place Ransom would take you, and Chris was going to wait and see just how close the two of you were to breaking up. He had his rituals. He only kept girls for a month. No more. And just before breakup, he sends you about your merry way after sex. Slowly growing distant

“Oh god, Ran!” Your shouts could be heard outside of the garage. If anyone wanted to watch, it would be easy. All the lights were on. There were no blinds on the windows. But to see you with your hands tied to the ceiling as Ransom fucks into you from behind infuriated him.

Ransom wasn’t even looking at your face, just his dick being sucked back into your cunt. Looking at how shiny your juices was making him. You were a tied up plaything. Even when your knees start to give out, Ransom grips tighter to your hips, keeping you on your feet. “Please! Please, Ran!”

“You’re almost there, Lucky. Give me one more, and I’ll let you rest, I promise.”

It felt like he had been using you for hours. Couldn’t even bother taking you somewhere special. Just tied you up like the rest of them. But even Chris couldn’t deny that this was different. It never lasted this long. He never talked to them. He never touched them with the care he was giving you. But the biggest surprise comes when you sigh, feeling Ransom’s warmth spurt deep into your womb, and his thrusts slow down.

Both of you panting so sweetly, and he pulls you back to him. Removing your hands from their restraints, and starts giving you the sweetest kisses. His hands drift down your front, and softly plays with your clit while you whimper in his mouth. And then Chris sees it; Ransom’s cum starting to leak onto your thighs. Ransom doesn’t do that. Even admitted boldly that he would never do that.

“You wanna stay here, Luck? Or you want to go back to your place?”

“Here, baby. Uhh,” you whine as he pulls himself out of you. You grab at his hand, sucking each finger clean, all while staring up at him like an angel. “Maybe you can make sweet love to me in that little bed?”

You didn’t even care that Ransom lived at the fucking garage. Ransom could have been anybody, and he chose to be a nobody. This pissed Chris off even more. You should already have been in his bed. You were his, and yet just another thing Ransom had stolen from him.

You swing your arms down, letting the cars rush past you, and solemnly walk back to the crowd. You didn’t know how you were going to tell Ransom. You were both adults though. Both of you were not careful. Both of you participated each time that you had fucked. But those tests did not lie. Every single one. All of them with the same result.

You wanted the baby, and wanted Ransom. And you weren’t sure if you could have both.

“Luck, what’s wrong?” Chris steps up behind you, and you flinch a moment. You know he wasn’t happy with how you didn’t return his calls, but you were — preoccupied. “Lucky?”

“Nothing,” but your lip trembles. “It’s fine.”

“Fine doesn’t make you cry at a race.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” Chris taps a police scanner, “Oh,” he holds up a partially smoked joint, and you decline without hesitation, causing Chris’ brows to raise.

“Since when did you stop smoking? I thought that was how you can stand to be around that prick.”

“Don’t say that,” your eyes look out into the distance, barely able to hear the rumble of the cars anymore. “I love him.”

“That came from nowhere,” the distaste was heavy on his tongue. You may love Ransom, but Ransom saw you as an easy lay. Someone that didn’t want to argue about having to sleep at a garage to stay with him. “You don’t even know him.”

“I do. I know him more than you think. He’s…he’s not like you assume. Not when it’s just us,” Ransom was the opposite of what everyone else saw. He was gentle, patient, kind, funny, and so loving. He never even wanted his hands off of you.

“Oh, you mean he doesn’t want to fuck you in a car, while there’s a crowd of people around you.”

You scoff. Chris didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t. He was rarely around the two of you. He stayed away, and when he was around it was just him glaring at Ransom. “Wow. You’re acting like they were surrounding the car and watching Ransom and me fuck. They weren’t even paying us any goddamn mind. I guess except you. What is you’re fucking deal?”

“He’s using you!” You shake your head, starting to walk away, but he grabs your wrist too hard. Not letting go of it. “Yes, he is. Letting everyone here know you’re off limits. He…Lucky you’re not even using protection. What happens if…” your breathing picks up, and finally, his hold loosens when your tears start back and your chest starts to heave.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant. With…with his bastard.”

“My baby is not a bastard! You better shut your fucking mouth!”

“Luck, you can’t stay with him. You live in a studio apartment, and he lives in a room in a garage. You can’t raise a baby in either of those places. You know exactly what’s going to happen when you tell him,” he didn’t know what he was talking about. Chris was just feeding your worst fears. Ransom wouldn’t leave. Ransom would stay. He knew what unprotected sex was going to do.

“He’s gonna leave. He doesn’t want kids. You know how many times he told me he doesn't want kids?”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have been coming inside of me. What is your problem? You — you don’t know anything.”

“I know Ransom. Just…let me be the daddy, if you need to keep it.”

“Had to add that ‘if’ in, huh? I’m keeping my baby. And I’m keeping Ransom. Thanks for the offer, Chris. Thanks for making a pregnant woman think the worst of her boyfriend. You know nothing about us. You think Ransom is winning all this money for dope? Why do you have to be such an asshole? I needed comfort tonight,” the roar of the cars returning. It wouldn’t be long until Ransom was beside you, and the two of you could talk.

“I just know how he is.”

“Did you know we found some land? Course you didn’t. You’re too busy being jealous. Chris, I like you. But I’m in love with him. I’m having his baby. And you can accept that or fuck off.”

“Luck, I don’t need you to hate me. I need you to know that the offer stands. I have stability with the police. I can offer you more than just this life,” with the headlights now visible you step away from Chris. You didn’t want to continue this. You wanted Ransom. You wanted to talk. Partying wasn’t for tonight.

“She’s pregnant,” Ransom slumps down in a chair in Chris’ office. “And I’m scared to death.”

“Because you don’t know how you’re going to break up with her?”

“What?” Ransom shakes his head, laughing at how uncomfortable this was. “No, we bought land. But I can’t build a house in such a short amount of time. I don’t have the money for that.”

“Unless you start selling,” Chris had long been trying to get Ransom to run for him. Said that he had the perfect avenue with the garage and the racing. Ransom wanted a relatively honest living. One that didn’t include drugs.

“No. I’m not doing that shit. I told you I wasn’t going to sell. I want an honest life at the garage, and extra cash from the racing. So much has been put back into the garage, and she gets it. Man, she’s perfect. I didn’t want kids, but one with her doesn’t sound bad at all. Are you kidding me? I can’t wait. I don’t care if we lived in a double wide trailer,” Chris rolls his eyes, settling back in his seat. “What?”

“A trailer?”

“They have nice trailers.”

“You could have money to build a house on your land.”

“I don’t deal in dope. I’ve got a kid coming. I can’t risk a felony charge for drug trafficking,” Chris starts to laugh, which only infuriates Ransom more. “You can’t guarantee just because you’re a fucking cop that I won’t get caught. I’m not running drugs. I’d rather ask my parents for money than risk losing my child and her. You know she wouldn’t stay with me. Luck is the real deal. She won’t stand by me if I’m arrested.”

Ransom pulls a box out of his pocket, opening it up and he stares lovingly at the ring. It wasn’t the most expensive, wasn’t even a real diamond. But he knew it was going to be beautiful on your finger, “She deserves something real. This was less than three hundred bucks, and at Walmart. I have to pick and choose. I’m going to do right by them. And our money is now towards a place to live.”

Ransom doesn’t say anything more, only stands up to leave, “Don’t come at me with that offer again. You need to get out of that shit, too.”

Ransom always had everything figured out. Knew how to steal his girl. Knew how to make extra money without risk of a felony. Knew how to change his mind to make a girl stay. Chris hated how everything came so easy to that fucking prick. He hated him. He hated Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

Chris takes a long toke of his joint as he stares at yours and Ransom’s trailer. Every light in the house was off. It is quiet. Serene. The only thing visible was Gracie’s night light casting pictures on the ceiling. He pulls out his phone, “They’re all there,” hanging up quickly, and settles back in his seat. Front row to Ransom’s worst nightmare.

You stir in your sleep. Your hand drifts up and down Ransom’s chest. “Shh, go back to sleep, darling,” Ransom mumbles, giving you a soft kiss on your head. He wraps an arm around you, holding you tight against him, “Love you, my Lucky charm.”

“I love you, Ran,” your voice is already getting heavier as the sleep takes you over again. You never wanted to miss a night sleeping next to him. Having his boxers so low that his groomed hair was poking out the top. Ransom was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The team surrounds your home, someone stationed at every door, and every window. The master bedroom was to the east side of the house, and not a peep was coming from the room.

You jolt up in bed as the doors break in. Standing up trying to get to Gracie’s room before something hard hits you on the chest, “Stay the fuck down!”

“You get your hands off her!” Ransom screams as a police officer slams him face down on the floor. Tears fill his eyes as he watches you immobile. Hit so hard that they knocked the breath out of you. “Let her go! Lucky! Luck, darling, are you breathing. My god, she’s trying to get our daughter,” Ransom’s tears turn to rage when he hears Gracie’s terrified scream. “Let her get our baby!”

“Mommy!”

“She can’t breathe!” You finally gasp for air. Gaining more strength when you hear her voice again. “Let her go!” She needs you. She sounds so scared, and you can’t move. Could barely breathe. Struggling to say her name. You need your baby.

“Mr. Drysdale, do you have any weapons in the house?”

“Gracie,” you croak out. “Please, let me get my daughter. She’s crying.”

“She’s fine,” the officer screams in your ear, and then Gracie is able to run past someone. Seeing you on the floor, and screams, reaching for you. “Calm the child down!”

“She’s scared. She’s a baby! Please. Please!”

“If you let them go, I leave without a fight. There’s guns in the closet safe, along with some cash. Just let them go!” The officer holding Ransom down nods to your captor, and they release you, and you dash towards Gracie. Grabbing her up and pressing her close to your body, trying to soothe her tears.

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” you stare horrified as they lift him up to his feet. Cuffing his hands behind his back, and pushing him out the door.

“Daddy! Where are you taking my daddy! No! Daddy.”

“You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court,” they push his head into the car, but his eyes stay in front of him. Face as hard as stone.

“Can I get him some clothes?” You ask, still holding Gracie close to you. “He’s just wearing boxers. H-h-he needs shoes.”

“Mrs. Drysdale…”

“Let me get him some clothes, please? He’s been arrested for…for what?”

“Did you know anything about your husband’s drug running?”

“I-I-I…” you look out to the police cruiser, remembering the words that Ransom said, “I’m not speaking without a lawyer. Let me get him some clothes. And let — god, can our daughter see him for a second? Sh-sh-she’s scared, and you…you took her daddy.”

“Get him some clothes,” the officer says, following you into the bedroom where they were ripping everything apart. Sleep still addled your brain, and this was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your home was being destroyed right before your very eyes.

“Oh god. What…what are you doing?”

“Do you have somewhere else to go tonight?” Snapping his fingers, the other officers stop their search. Pointing over to the closet. Even what you grab out for Ransom to wear is heavily searched. Pockets pulled out, and shoes looked into before they give them back to you. “Ma’am, your home is going to be searched, do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Can I pack us a suitcase?”

“No.”

“What about her nightlight, and doll?’

“No.”

Dammit. “Can you get us some fucking shoes then? My god, what is going on?”

“Where are you going?”

“To Harlan Thrombey’s. Can I go see Ransom now?” Still an officer stays with you as you walk clothes out to Ransom. “Baby?”

“Tell Harlan to call my lawyer the minute you get in. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t let anyone but Harlan and mom be alone with Gracie. Not even Chris,” you nod your head. You didn’t want to ask too many questions, because Ransom wouldn’t answer. “Baby girl, daddy is going to be away for a while.”

Gracie shakes her head no, reaching for her dad, “No,” you were getting about fucking tired of that word.

“Daddy! Daddy, don’t leave me. I get scared at bed time without you.”

“Gracie, you be good for mommy, and gramma, and Pappy, okay?” Gracie’s face scrunches up tightly. Tears pour down her face, still reaching for him. “Daddy will be back. No matter what, daddy loves you and mommy.”

“Daddy, no! Daddy, I’m scared!” The officer slams the door, separating you and Gracie from him, and he gives the top a tap, as it starts to roll away. “Daddy! I need my daddy! No, gimme my daddy back!”

“Ma’am, I suggest you and your daughter go somewhere else tonight.”

“Can you not…god, I have a studio with expensive camera equipment.”

“It’s all being seized,” he walks away from you, and you watch horrified as figures discard items in your home. You couldn’t watch this anymore. Couldn’t calm Gracie down.

Chris takes his final hit of the roach before tossing it onto the ground. Smiling to himself as he backs his car off your property. Ransom didn’t win this time. Finally he was getting what was owed to him. And finally Chris was going to get what always belonged to him. You. And now Ransom was almost out of the way. And there would only be you.

His. You were always his.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @elrw24 @midnightramyeoncravings @saiyanprincessswanie

[elliesgaymachete]

I understand i am poking a wasp’s nest here and you could not pay me enough money to actually tag this with anything cr (which is why all the ships mentioned are censored lmao)

Anyway i love c2 with my entire being. But. The fandom drama through the whole campaign was WILD.

[dani-sdiary]

Story: I'm a Method Cashier!

And this was a role I could really sink my teeth into.

Okay, so, first of all, to work at Store there are 2 online applications, an online training course, 3 questionnaires for your references to fill out, 3 interviews (2 alone and 1 group), a background check, an unpaid 4-hr. orientation, a drug test, a pacer test, a polygraph test administered by an F.B.I. agent (and not like the sexy ones on Criminal Minds), a blood oath, and you have to be able to put on lipstick like Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. Jesus, there are less requirements to be elected president. And a cult wouldn't make you jump through this many hoops to join.

My Marketable Skills: I'm a warm body and I'm not an asshole. I'm not going to say "we should hang out outside of work" to my coworkers or mouth off to the customers. Basically, you should hire me because you could do a whole lot worse.

But I couldn't just say that. I couldn't just be honest. It had to be, with tears glistening in my eyes: "It has been my lifelong dream to be a cashier at Store. Cashiering is my passion. I have 3 Ph.D.s in Applied Cashiering, Cashiering Theory, and Experimental Cashiering from Harvard University's School of Cashiering, and I completed a postdoctoral fellowship at Oxford University's St. Cashier Cashiering College. I have 97 years of experience in the field."

So, I get there, for the first interview, in my silly little outfit, mostly stolen from my mom's closet. I walk in and say excuse me to the first employee I see. She clutches her chest, looks bewildered, and says "excuse me" back.

Daniella, apprehensively: "Hi, I'm here for an interview, could I speak to a manager please?"

Employee #1, startled: "Yeah." She walks off and I assume I'm meant to follow her.

My real name sounds vaguely similar to the name of a character from a classic poem you read the Wikipedia summary of in ninth grade English class. The first five letters are the same, but the character's name ends with an a, and mine with an e. Anyway, while we were walking, we introduced ourselves and she said, and I've never have cause to use the word "chortling" before, but if there was ever a time, it was then, "Well, your mother must have been a big The Poet fan, huh?" (as if I've never heard that one before). I mustered a polite chuckle and said nothing.

Employee #1, sneering: "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Daniella, wishing for death: "No, I know the poem."

Employee #1, under her breath: "Big deal."

The rest of the walk is silent. We turn a corner and see a boy about my age. She starts calling his name, he fully makes eye contact with her, and then turns and speedwalks away. She keeps calling after him and picks up the pace to reach him, but he outruns her. No need to watch the documentary through your fingers, the antelope is safe this time. It turns out he wasn't even the manager, because I meet her next. The interview goes okay and I get the second one. I ask a different employee this time. She says into her walkie-talkie, "Anthony, Daniella is here for an interview, do you want to deal with that?"

Anthony comes be-bopping up to me at 1,000 mph. When he's still several aisles away, he calls out "Hi, Friend!!" in an acoustic guitar-playing youth pastor voice. He leads me to the office, racing down the aisles like there's an serial killer revving a chainsaw behind him, and by the time I catch up in my pencil skirt and heels, I'm panting and sweating. Maybe this is part of the interview: seeing if you can keep up metaphorically and literally. The weakest shall be sacrificed.

Tony asks me, not why I want to work at Store, but why I want to work in general, as if earning money to eat is a casual hobby, like knitting. He asks me if I've applied anywhere else, like Store is a jealous girlfriend. Then he asks me if I have any questions, and I know you're supposed to have something, so I pull a couple out my ass. After he answers them, he asks if I have any more, and, thinking I'm out of the woods, I say not for now.

Anthony, ominously: "You sure?" Slowly pan back to Daniella.

Daniella, brightly: "I'm sure I'll have more during orientation if I'm hired, but I think I'm covered for now. Thank you!"

(Beat.) Anthony: "Well, you know, I'm just gonna give you some advice: you really should have more questions. But don't worry, I'm gonna go ahead and tell you a little bit more about how the Store family does things."

45 minutes later, he asks for a third set of questions, and then, believe or not, a fourth. Sir, this is my interview. You're not a celebrity guest on The Fucking Tonight Show. If you're so desperate for me to ask you questions, why don't you apply to this job? Or do like the rest of us and pretend you're on Ricki Lake talking about how brave you are to share the story of your divorce from Tim McGraw and how it inspired your new album, "Warm Regards, Dani," currently topping the country charts while you shampoo your hair.

Three business days later, my email: "Congratulations! You have been selected to join the Store Family! Please report for orientation next Wednesday at noon."

Another day, another dollar.

[evilcowgirl]

Scraped Knees

pairing: charles x reader

a/n: hiii first post ever !! noticed the lack of charles fics and decided to take matters into my own hands. super grateful for any form of support/feedback xoxxo

warnings: nsfw (f!reader), minor violence

word count: 4k

summary: charles comforts you after you take a fall during a train robbery , during this your feelings for each other come to light. ( poc friendly & no use of"y/n" )

ao3: ♡scraped knees♡

The heist Dutch’s plan, as usual you had come to learn. A train full of rich folk on their way to Victory Street Station in St. Denis. This was the first time since you’d joined the gang that Dutch had personally requested you join them and you were in no position to decline with how little you’d done so far. You always tried to make yourself useful but it never felt like enough for how gracious they all had been to take you in.

You'd been tasked with blending in with the passengers and helping the gang get in swiftly when it was time, which you did remarkably well for a relatively new “outlaw.” Unfortunately, the only way to do this was to change your look completely. Swapping your usual breathable linen skirt for a flirtatious dress composed of numerous layers of fabric and frills had been purchased for you to wear for this special occasion. You felt a bit confined by all of the layers since you weren't used to being dressed all high class-like.

Your makeup had been done by Molly who proudly assured you that every man on the train would be unable to stop staring with how beautiful you looked, to which you meekly reminded her that that was the opposite of the effect you were going for. She had taken a strange liking to you, finding solace in another out of place woman at the camp. At times you felt a bit like her one lonely doll. She liked to talk with you about girl things and complain about Dutch more than anything else. She was completely smitten by the man, not that you understood why. She didn't really have any friends outside of you and Dutch —when he was willing to pay her any mind— and for that you pitted her. You hoped that one day she would come to her senses and realize her worth, but that didn't seem too likely. You felt a bit embarrassed at her praise after she was done fixing you up for the mission. Still you did catch a few extra glances at yourself whenever you passed a mirror.

Thankfully from the moment you boarded everything seemed to be going smoothly. This was a relief for you since you'd only been running with the gang for about a month now. You still had something to prove. For the most part, you were left alone as you waited. The occasional smile or wink from a gentleman had you blushing a bit, but no one seemed to suspect that they had a criminal waiting to sabotage their trip on board with them.

The moment you heard the brash shout from Dutch outside of the train instructing the gang to hop on paired with the stomps of several horses close by you felt like you were moving without your own consent, automatically doing what you were told before by Dutch without thinking twice. You immediately stood up turning to face the visibly unsettled passengers and pulled the two revolvers tucked under your skirt. With each pointed towards the two isles you waited to hear Dutch’s word before you made your next move.

“No one move or try anything stupid and you’ll all be okay.” You said in the most confident voice you could muster. You heard the rest of your gang boarding behind you and you felt a bit more comforted by their presence. You were quick with a gun, there was no doubt in that but you were still intimidated by how outnumbered you were. As you stood your ground no one looked to be interested in starting any trouble and for a second you started to feel a little bit proud of yourself for holding your own.

That feeling washed away the moment you heard Charles' voice, calm and low as always, “Watch the hand,” he said to a man a few rows down. “You heard the lady.”

You turned your attention towards the man, cocking the hammer of your revolver before even realizing his hand frozen in its position reaching into his tote sitting next to him. A feeling of thankfulness came over you as you felt Charles brush up against you, letting you know that he was there. Since you joined Charles had taken you under his wing, helping you navigate your new life without ever making you feel completely useless. His mere presence was a cause for relief since you’d become so dependent on him.

“Thank you.” you whispered sincerely.

Before he could answer Dutch was instructing you to “walk,” and you did just as you were told, pointing your weapon at each civilian you passed with an unwavering stare to make sure they new not to try anything as Micha followed close behind you demanding whatever valuables each person had to be handed over.

You did this for a few of the carriages that held people, you aiming and Micha making threats that had even you on edge. You heard gunshots coming from all areas of the train as Arthur, John and Charles picked off any of the guards who were brave enough to go against them. As you continued you passed still-bleeding bodies of guards with their guns still in their hands. The sight made you still for a moment, not used to seeing so much gore like this upclose. You felt your stomach turn at the sticky feeling of blood and brain matter under your heeled feet. It was jarring to say the least and you wished that someone had prepared you for it. You were warned by Dutch specifically that there would be death, but you’d grown accustomed to him and his dramatics over the past few weeks. It wasn’t the death that bothered you, you’d seen death before, but being in it was a whole ‘nother story.

Before you could get too deep into your head you felt the nudge of cold metal against your back shoving you forward a bit and leaving your spine sore.

“We ain’t got time for no daydreaming, girl.” Micha gruffs at you. Even with the short amount of time you’ve been running with the Van Der Linde gang you were well versed in detecting assholes and Micha definitely fit that description to a T. When being ordered to work together you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes out of respect for Dutch. Being alone with him made you feel cold and unsafe.

When you were done you both waited at the very first cart connected to the locomotive. You both looked out for the law and any guards that were still alive. If all was going to plan, the conductor was being held hostage by Arthur to get the train slowing down and since it was you assumed everything was moving along well. Still, you began to feel a bit uneasy after a few minutes without seeing any of the boys bursting through the carriage door with the money they’d collected. You glanced over to the blonde man next to you only to see him with a proud smirk. You weren't sure to be comforted or even more worried by that. Thankfully not too soon after John and Charles were approaching with Dutch not too far behind, John swinging the carriage door open hard enough to make you flinch at the sound.

“Thank you kindly for your cooperation ladies and gentlemen, but i'm afraid me and my friends must be leaving!” He said in that disconcerting tone of his leaving the passengers just as fearful as they were before. You almost laughed at the pale faces of the rich passengers, how violated they looked even before being robbed. It had to be the most excitement most of them have and will ever have seen.

Just then the door to the conductor's area was pushed open revealing Arthur with his gun drawn.

“Yeah, well we better get moving. He’ll be stoppin’ at the nearest station and that ain't far from here.”

Everyone looked to Dutch who simply nodded and thrusted his hand in the direction of the quickly moving ground below you all, “Well let's go then!”

Your mouth fell open looking to anyone for an explanation better than the one you were thinking of.

“He wants us to jump?” You asked nobody in particular.

“There's nothing to be afraid of.” Charles said.

“It ain’t that far a jump, and the trains slowed down right now which is why we gotta be quick about it, now c’mon.’” Arthur was the first to take the leap, landing on his feet with barely any trouble and hopping onto his horse who was waiting not too far with the rest.

After that everyone followed suit and you felt your hand being grabbed as you were gently but quickly pulled to the edge. You closed your eyes and tightened your grip around Charles’ larger hand.

Arthur was right, the jump wasn’t that far but it being your first time jumping off of a moving train you were bound to stumble and stumble you did, falling but Charles just barely catching you as you did.

“Are you okay?” He asked, genuine concern glowing in his warm brown eyes. Your dizziness allowed you to become lost in them much too easily. You felt the sweet sensation of butterfly wings in your stomach as he held your waist to lift you up off of your knees. Charles was a very large man, that was no secret but it was something you could almost forget due to his gentle nature and quietness. But now here he was towering over you and somehow you’d never felt safer. He asked you again, sounding even more worried at your silence. You broke your stare looking down at your feet embarrassedly. You noticed now how bad your knees stung but it wasn’t bad enough to mention. You couldn't even see them under the dress you were wearing, which was no doubt ruined.

“I’m fine. Thank you alot, I was—Thank you Charles.”

He smiled at you, making your heart stutter even more than it was already. You felt weak in his arms and he led you to his horse.

Riding with Charles was always therapeutic in a way. Your head felt so clear when he was around. Even if you were stressed or worried about things back at camp, having his body, solid and warm, pressed against you was bliss. Occasionally you could get a few words out of him. He’d lived such an interesting life and you couldn't help but cherish his stories when he was willing to share them since it wasn't often.

Back at camp Charles brought you back to his tent after making sure everyone was okay. You didn't ask any questions and allowed him to guide you by hand.

“You don’t even treat a girl to a date before taking her to your bed huh.” You joked sitting down at his mat.

He shook his head at you as he rummaged through his things, onyx hair falling over his face in a way that only he could make look so alluring.

“No, not usually.”

You tilted your head at this in curiosity. Up until now you hadn’t ever considered Charles taking on a lover. You supposed that you had no idea what he was doing those days he left the camp. He hunted, of course it was how you all ate most of the time, but besides that you didn't know where Charles ventured to. What if he had a girl already who he never mentioned. Out of everyone in the gang he seemed the most likely to go and do something like that.

“What do you usually do then?” You asked, deciding not to resist the urge to pry.

“Hm?” He said taking out gauze and a liquid in a glass bottle.

“With the girls you take to bed.” You said with a light laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“When do I have time to be with girls?” He asks you, taking your hand from his shoulder and into his own larger one. His hands were rough from work, but his skin soft at the same time. “Can I see your knee?”

“I can't even see my knee.” You say taking handfuls of the frilled fabric.

He looks down at the flamboyant hear over your lap, “I see that. You looked stunning all dressed up like that. All propper, it must’ve been strange for you,”

You blushed trying to hide it by looking over your shoulder, “I did feel pretty. It was strange, yeah.”

“You’re always gorgeous, the only difference if you look all high-society now,” He says. “Maybe you could take off the first few layers of it.” He suggests.

You nod and try not to seem so alarmed at Charles telling you to take off your skirt before him. . . at least the first few layers of it. You stand up, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to stand. He looks up at you, your eyes following his as you begin removing your skirt. You decide then to undress down to your chemise and the deep blush colored corset on top of it. You felt your body heating up at the feeling of Charles’ eyes on you. Your heart was beating at a mile a minute by the time you sat back down, positioning your knees up. His touch was as soft as ever when he brought the saturated cloth to the torn up skin of your knee. He held your leg steady with a sturdy grip when you jerked at the feeling.

“Ouch!” You hissed looking at him with a furled brow.

“Shh, I know,” he said in a low soothing voice that made you feel warm all over.

While he's tending to your wounds you become conscious of how your breasts are nearly exposed through the thin cotton of your chemise. At first you find it funny. Charles has always been extraordinarily gentlemanly. Respectful in everything that he did, even then the acts themselves weren't too respectful. Always helping you down from your horse and defending you from any rude comments . He was your protector of sorts, someone to rely on. Still, he was only a man and you noticed his glances below your eyes. Not that it bothered you. Knowing that at the very least he was attracted to you was more than enough to add fuel to the fire you felt growing inside you. You lifted a shaky hand to glide through his hair, the soft strands caressing you back. He doesn’t stop his adamant work. He’s always been so nurturing. For as big and as tough of a guy he is he still has the most tender touch and heart, even if he doesn’t know it. Your hand smooths down over his hair down to his slightly scruffy cheek, tracing your finger over the scar there.

He sighs then, halting his hand that was working on your knee, “Stop that.” He says, sounding aspirated.

You immediately grow embarrassed, you couldn’t have misread all of the signs so terribly. You haven’t had the most experience with men in your twenty years but they didn’t seem that hard to figure out. Unless they were Charles apparently.

“I’m sorry. . . I thought that maybe—That you felt the same way.” You said trying not to sound too disappointed.

Charles looked up at you finally with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. You were desperate to hear his next words as you leaned in, not breaking your eye contact even though you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze.

“No it's not that. . . of course I feel the same way, who wouldn’t.”

“Then why?” You push.

“I’m not what you need.” He says and for some reason that's what sets you off.

“Yes you are!” You retort, “I’ve never met a man that I love being around as much as you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else.”

“Sweetheart. . .” He says, you can tell he’s trying to dismiss you and you won't let that happen. When he tries to turn his head to break the intensity you wont allow him to. Guiding his face back to yours even closer. Your eyes shift down between his eyes and his lips and all you can imagine is how euphoric it would be to finally feel them against yours. You sigh out a whispered, “please” as you shuffle closer to him crawling on your freshly bandaged knees to let your faces meet. You can feel his breath against your face as you lean down to leave feather light kisses. You can tell how bad you’re affecting him. Your hand wanders to lie flat against his solid chest, feeling his breathing speed up from your touch. He warily made a move to grab at your waist. With how thin your dress was his touch sent shivers down your spine and you vocalized your appreciation with a quiet moan.

“We shouldn’t do this. . . you deserve someone better. . .” He says trailing off.

You stop your trail of kisses down his throat to shut him up with your lips on his. You didn't realize how bad you wanted him until you had your first taste, it was addictive and you could barely control yourself.

“Please. . .” You begged again, not exactly sure for what.

“What is it?” He asks knowingly.

“I need you.” You say plainly to his surprise.

Your hands migrate down to your own hips where Charles’ are unmoving. Like he's afraid to scare you away. You grab at his wrists, barely able to fit your hands around them and press his hands against your breasts over your chemise. You let out a blissful sigh as his fingers move to tease your nipples through the fabric, You’re almost embarrassingly responsive to his touch, gladly accepting his tongue into your mouth when he pries. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this by anyone other than yourself.

You reach behind you attempting to unlace your corset as it becomes harder to breathe under its restraint, Charles quickly catches on reaching behind you and releasing its binds. You let out a breath feeling slightly lightheaded.

You decide then that if things were ever going to get to where you wanted them that you would have to make the first move on your own since he was much too hesitant about this than you were. You grabbed the hem of your chemise and pulled it over your head, letting it fall behind you.

“You’re beautiful” he said as he looked over your now exposed body. The contrast of your nudenes and Charles still being fully dressed should have made you insecure but instead you found yourself even more turned on. You moved yourself back towards him, basically straddling him as you hovered close to his face. He was much less reserved now, gliding his hands down over your hips and thighs, feeling your soft skin under his finger tips. His touch was nothing short of electrifying but still you ached for more.

“Touch me.” You say in a whisper. You’re both so close to each other that that was all that was needed.

Charles didn’t need to be told twice and brought a confident hand down between your bare legs. You can barely stifle the moan it evokes, you try to cover your mouth but it barely does anything to stop the sound from escaping. The tents are only but so thick, any sounds louder than a whisper would be heard by anyone close by. You prayed that everyone else had gone to bed now but you couldn't say that you were even the slightest bit interested in stopping.

“You feel how wet you are for me?” Charles says right next to your ear while gliding his fingers over the folds of your cunt. You nodded, feeling in a daze. It was almost overwhelming how good he felt against you; he played with you for a little bit, rubbing against your clit with his large fingers causing you to twitch against him. When he finally pushed a finger in you let out a groan that was much too loud.

He chuckled at the sweet sound bringing his other hand to your lips, “Shh” he said to you for the second time tonight.

The stretch was unfamiliar as his fingers were so much bigger than your own. It took quite a minute of him fingering you like that slowly until he was able to add another finger without you squealing.

“This alright?” He asks. The feeling of your wet cunt squeezing his fingers had him unbelievably hard and it was starting to become uncomfortable. He watches as his fingers disappear into your cunt slowly, he lets himself imagine what it would feel like to slide himself into you instead of just his fingers. He wonders how tight you would feel around him and how close you two would be, intertwining like that.

“Yeah, yeah just. . .keep going please,” You beg him pathetically.

He looks down at you with dark, hungry eyes; you feel like prey about to be devoured and it's the most arousing thing. “Such’a good girl,” He says huskily. “Gorgeous,”

He leans down to kiss your mouth messily, pushing your hair out of your face as he does so. You can barely kiss him back as he thrusts his fingers into you at a relentless pace, sounds of your wetness echoing through the tent like an obscene melody. You groan out this high pitch sound as he shifts his abuse to your clit, rubbing experticity and leaving you extremely skeptical of him”not having time for other women,” You're not spared much time to feel jealous though before pleasure starts creeping up on you in waves that have you grasping at Charles’ biceps.

You feel yourself getting close, but all that you can seem to get out are these whinny slurs of words you couldn't quite make out. Curses and pleas all mixed with cries of Charles’ name.

“Let go for me, sweet girl.” He says.

When you do it’s explosive, like a dam breaking and you can feel the rush of ecstasy flow over you. He guides you through your orgasm holding you close and whispering sweet nothings as he peppers your face with kisses. It takes you a while to catch your breath and become able to kiss him back properly, but when you do, you throw your arms around him tightly. The sheets beneath you are soaked and your head is filled with thoughts of the man in front of you.

“Was that okay?” He asks you and you laugh. The sound makes him want to kiss you again.

“You ask that like I didn’t just lose my mind under your touch just a moment ago,” you say lying your head against his clothed chest, “It was more than okay, better than i’ve dreamed about” You say looking up at him dreamily.

“You’ve dreamed about it huh?” He asks, stroking your hair, then trailing down to your bare shoulder.

Somehow even after what had just taken place he still managed to make you bashful.

“Maybe a few times. . .I felt so silly wantin’ you like that when I didn't even know if you were sweet on me too.”

“I’ve always been sweet on you, ever since you started running with us. It’s just that I’m not the kind of man for someone like you. Or at least that's what I thought, I’m not sure what I think anymore.”

You frowned at hearing him doubt himself. You Wanted to tell him that you didn’t have eyes for any other man and that he was all you seemed to think about anymore, but you decided against it, things were already going to be heavy in the morning.

“Then don’t think, just hold me.” You instructed him softly.

You both fell asleep in his tent together, leaving the rest of the gang to assume things in the morning that you’d both never hear the end of. All that mattered to you was the security of Charles’ strong arms holding you close. You somehow knew that things were going to be alright somehow.