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mynameismckenziemae · 2 months

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A Little Bit Stronger

Part 3

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC

Summary: You get settled at Bradley’s and open up to Reese a little more.

Warnings: Just like everything else I write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“That’s…not a bad idea,” Reese says when you and Bradley tell her and Jake the plan.

“Not at all,” Jake agrees, “gives you peace of mind until you can get in your apartment.”

You nod in agreement. While staying with Bradley made you a little nervous, it also put you a lot at ease.

“Do you think you’ll come today?” She asks, hopeful.

“I think so,” you answer, “let’s see how this looks when I get some makeup on it.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Well what do you think?” You ask as you meet Reese in the hallway, “Does it look okay?”

“Yes, it’s really not noticeable,” she replies honestly, even lowering her sunglasses to make sure before scanning the rest of you. “Damn girl, look at you.”

You flush at her praise yet eat it up all the same. Though you’ve remained active and kept up with pilates, you’ve gained a few pounds since you’re no longer kept under a strict diet. You like that the modest black one-piece under your white button-down and jean cut-offs feels a little less modest with your fuller hips, butt, and breasts.

Will Bradley will like it too?

“Thank you,” you murmur, “I think I’m all set.”

“Sounds like the guys are too,” she responds as she hears them come back in from a round of fetch with Hank.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You follow Bradley to his house next to drop off your belongings before meeting Reese and Jake at the party.

“After you,” he pushes the door open, “sorry it’s a bit messy, I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“Messy? What mess?” You laugh as you step inside, the smell of clean laundry with a hint of his woodsy cologne greeting you. There’s a pair of running shoes by the door, and a hoodie tossed over the back of the couch but otherwise tidy. It feels comfortable and homey with the simple but tasteful decor. “You have a beautiful home-Hank, no!”

Hank bounds past you both to make himself at home, claiming a spot on the couch.

“Get down,” you say sternly, fighting a smile at the puppy-dog eyes he’s giving you.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Bradley grins as he approaches Hank who rolls on his back for belly rubs, “a little dog hair never hurt anyone, right?”

He shows you the rest of the main floor before leading you upstairs.

A picture hanging on the wall that catches your eye. “Your parents?”

“Hmm?” He follows your line of sight, “Oh, yeah, that’s them. Goose and Carole.”

“Goose? Is that why your callsign’s Rooster?” You ask.

“Uh…yeah,” his hesitation giving away there’s more to it.

“You look like your dad,” you murmur, glancing at him before looking at the photo again, “but I can see your mom too.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “God, I miss them. This was their house.”

“They’re gone?”

He nods.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, “I know how hard it is. Both of mine died too.”

“I’m sorry too,” he gives you a sad smile as he opens one of the doors, “here you are. Closet, bed, and the bathroom is through that door. It connects to the other room which is my office slash gym; I’ll sometimes shower in there after a workout but I’ll go downstairs if you’re home.”

Heat rises to your face as the image of his wet naked body crosses your mind.

Where the fuck did that come from?

He doesn’t seem to notice as he continues talking, “…there’s some weights, a treadmill, gym mats on the floor. Feel free to use whatever you want.”

“Thanks,” you will the redness in your face to go away, “and it’s your home, Bradley. Please don’t change your routine because I’m here.”

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” he replies, not looking at you while he picks invisible lint from the bed.

“I do,” you say honestly. He lifts his eyes to yours. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel safe.”

“Okay,” he clears his throat, “good. Are you ready to go?”

You take a deep breath. “I am.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The sunshine on your skin feels like heaven as you ride shotgun in Bradley’s vintage Bronco. You can’t help sneaking glances at the way his biceps flex in his cut-off tee when he grips the steering wheel. His thick thighs straining the fabric of his swim trunks catch your eye too.

You force yourself to stop looking and grin when you catch sight of Hank in the sideview mirror; ears flapping in the wind.

Bradley assured you he was welcome too.

A younger boy comes running around from the back of the house as you arrive.

“Little Kernsie! You grew again?!” Bradley asks, opening his arms.

“Roo!” He yells, grinning from ear to ear as he slams into him, squeezing him tightly. His eyes light up when he sees Hank. “You got a dog!?”

“I wish,” Bradley laughs as he opens the tailgate and helps Hank down, “he belongs to my friend here, Shae.”

“Hi,” you smile, “you must be Drew.”

He nods, his cheeks turning pink before he looks behind you. “Mom! Jake!”

“You guys left the same time we did. How did you get here after…,” Bradley trails off when he sees their flushed faces and Jake’s finger-mussed hair. “Gross.”

Jake smirks and Reese flips him off over Drew’s head as he hugs her.

“I see you’ve met my friend, Shae,” Reese smiles.

“And her dog,” he says, looking up at you, “What’s his name? Can I pet him?”

“Hank, and of course you can,” you reply.

His laughter fills the air from the kisses he receives.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Your heart begins to pound nervously as you follow them behind the house, but it’s all in vain; you’re greeted with open arms and kind smiles.

Introductions are made and you start to feel more at ease with the help of a few drinks and good company.

After lunch, you and Reese settle in the sand near the water.

“Can you get my back?” Jake asks Reese, holding the sunscreen.

“Sure,” she replies, “Drew, you’ll need some too.”

“But I put some on earlier,” he argues, sighing when Reese gives him a look, “fine.”

You shake your sunscreen before squeezing the bottle just as Bradley takes off his shirt to reveal more tan, sculpted muscles; you want nothing more than to follow the thin line of hair from his navel down with your tongue…

Nearly half the bottle of sunscreen is in your palm when you snap out of your daydream.

“Can you get mine too?” Bradley asks Reese, thankfully not noticing the excess in your hands after coating your legs.

“Yeah, let me get Drew first,” Reese replies, smacking Jake on the butt sharply when she’s done with his back and moving on to Drew.

“I can,” you blurt out but recover quickly, nodding to your coated hands, “if you want. I’ve got way too much here.”

“Sure,” he replies smoothly but a flush works its way up as he turns to sit in front of you.

He jolts when you touch him.

“Sorry,” you murmur, watching as goosebumps erupt.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, “just cold.”

Long-dormant arousal flickers to life between your thighs at the feel of all that muscle under the sun-warmed skin beneath your hands. So strong yet he’s been so gentle with you.

Wonder if he’s gentle in bed…

“Can Hank play too?” Drew’s question makes you jump.

“Sure, but he might take off with the ball if he gets it,” you reply.

“That’s okay, thanks,” he smiles. “Let’s go!” He says, taking off with Jake and Hank.

“All set,” you tell Bradley, wiping your hands on the towel before starting to unbutton your cover-up.

“Thanks,” he replies as he stands. He looks down at you and does a double-take at what you’re doing.

“C’mon Roo, we’re waiting!” Drew hollers.

“Right, yeah, thanks again,” he stammers before running over.

Reese bursts out laughing when he’s out of earshot.

“What?” You smile, her laughter contagious.

“I’ve known Roo a long time,” she answers, “he’s a ladies’ man; always so smooth and confident. I’ve never seen him like that…all awkward and lost for words.”

You wait for her to explain; not at all picking up what she’s putting down.

“He likes you,” she continues when she turns and sees your furrowed brow.

You feel like you’re in middle school again the way the butterflies take flight in your belly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you-“ she starts to backtrack at your silence.

“No,” you give her a small smile, “it’s okay, Reese. It feels…good, actually. Really good,” you sigh as you look at the waves crashing, “I’m not ready for a relationship, obviously, since I’m still technically married, but it’s nice to feel attractive and wanted again. To be more than just a body to impregnate.”

She doesn’t say anything, just puts her hand over yours.

“Chad decided we should start trying for a baby after my parents passed away. My mom had Alzheimer’s. While her death wasn’t unexpected, it was hard,” you say, voice growing thick, “but my dad dying 2 months later from takotsubo cardiomyopathy was devastating.”

“Broken heart syndrome,” Reese murmurs and you nod.

“My parents were crazy about each other,” you smile, “they had that kind of love everyone hopes for. My dad hadn’t been gone a week before Chad brought up getting pregnant. I told him I wasn’t ready and that was the first time he hit me.”

“Why on earth would he bring it up right after losing both your parents?”

“He was getting pressure from his dad,” you sigh. “Not long after, he made me stop working, he thought the stress from my job was keeping me from getting pregnant. I wasn’t getting pregnant because I never stopped my birth control; I hid it.”

“Good,” she says.

“Over the next 2 years, he isolated me from everything while he was out drinking, snorting lines, and sleeping with random women. Then would come home and sleep with me, half the time he was too high or drunk to get it up-but that was my fault too,” you snort mirthlessly.

“When he found the hidden birth control a few months ago he…” you close your eyes at the memory, the way he left you bleeding and broken on the floor, “it wasn’t good. That’s when I made the plan to leave.”

“I’m glad you did,” she murmurs.

“Me too,” you reply, “I just want him to leave me alone so I can start living again.”

“You deserve it,” she replies, “I am sorry though, I shouldn’t have said that about Bradley. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.”

“I don’t,” you shake your head. “Well not uncomfortable, but I do get a little nervous around him.”

Her eyes whip to yours. “What? Why?”

“He’s like ridiculously hot,” you laugh, “have you seen him?”

“He is,” she agrees. “He won’t pursue you though, not after everything you’ve been through.”

You nod, feeling the oddest mixture of relief and disappointment.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. By the time the fireworks are wrapping up, your blinks are getting slower from a full day of sunshine and fresh air.

“Tired?” Bradley chuckles when he notices.

“A little,” you admit over the loud popping of the finale in the sky.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” he leans in so you can hear him. His warm breath sends a shiver up your spine.

“Sure,” you close your eyes, wishing you could lean into his warmth.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Ughhhh I just want them to kissssssssssssss. I’m starting to hate the slow burn lol.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist…and if I forgot to add you-it wasn’t intentional.

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hookslove1592

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

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@lonelysoul50

@mrsevans90

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@writtingrose

@fandomology101

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@seitmai

@els-marvelvsp

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin

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fayesia · 11 months

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Hello, I hope this doesn't bother you but I had an idea for mike schmidt. Imagine him and the reader are fighting and the reader leaves him. Ever since the reader left him he starts to loose his mind cause he needs the reader to function. Abby notices her brother's situation so she makes it her mission to get him and the reader back together.

Short and Sweet — mike schmidt x reader

a/n: Hiii ofc u r not bothering me! Thank you for the request, congrats you’re the first one so i’m very much appreciative!!! I hope i did justice to your idea, again i’m kind of new to all of this but hopefully you like it :D

“god your so selfish do you even think before you act!!”

You can feel the eyes of people passing by as they return to their cars and pack away their shopping. Except you don’t care, not when this is the third time Mike has forgotten to pick Abby up from school.

“come on at least say something!”

“GODDAMNIT, i’m sorry ok!!”

“well sorry’s not enough Mike! Because when i get home from work and she comes running into my arms having already had a bad day at school it’s on you for making it worse” you exclaim back to him slamming the car door shut.

He does the same, quickly started the engine and driving with rough movements.

“oh yeah, now what? you’re gonna get us both in a car crash, leave your sister alone again-“

“oh my god ENOUGH OK shut up!!”

You fumble with your fingers looking out the window, not in sadness or fear but rather an immense amount of anger. You knew that your emotions would take over your response and you were not going to cry in front of Mike as if what he said effected you.

He parks in the driveway, opens the trunk to collect the groceries and rushes through the front door. You follow after him entering the bedroom and collecting all your things from the closet and bathroom. carrying your duffel bag, you make your way retrieving any items left around the house. Your wallet, keys, shoes and a picture of you and abby are collected as you leave back outside to your car parked across the road.

Sitting down in the drivers seat you stare blankly ahead slowly lowering your head to rest against the steering wheel, soft crys quickly turning into loud sobs that rack through your body. They continue until you reach your apartment, gloomily walking into the place you haven’t been in for months, having spent most days of the week at Mikes house. This place doesn’t feel homely like his though, rather it’s cold and depressing reflecting how you felt right now, which really wasn’t helping.

You’re pulled away from these thoughts as your phone starts ringing. ‘Abby bear’ flashes on your screen as you clear your throat to remove any hints of you crying.

“Hi Abby what’s up?”

“why did you leave” her shaky voice almost has you in tears again.

“what did mike say honey? i’m not leaving forever i just needed to get some stuff from my place”

“he said you were gonna be gone for awhile but would come back. I think he’s lying though his eyes are all red like he’s been crying and he hasn’t moved from your spot on the couch”.

As you listen to her soft voice explain all of this more tears drop down to your chin.

“i’m sorry abby i just think we need a break from each other i don’t know for how long but its something that needed to happen sooner rather than later. I promise i’ll come by and visit you soon, maybe Friday for this weeks movie night?”

“Yayy ok sounds good”

“i have to go now sweetie but make sure you finish all your homework and then you can relax”

“ok byee y/n love u”

“bye abby bear i love you too”

ending the call, you’re left with a gut wrenching feeling spending the rest of the evening crying yourself to sleep on the couch. pitiful? maybe. but you really needed this and now was the right time.

While you spent hours sleeping the pain away, Mike was basically doing the same thing. Abby walked up to him handing him a tub of ice cream “i heard from a movie that eating ice cream makes you less sad after a breakup”

“that’s not true Abby”

her face drops a little at this, Mike quickly trying to cover up his mistake.

“but thank you, why don’t we both eat ice cream and watch a movie”

“ok!!” she settles herself next to him, cuddling into his side with blankets strewn across their laps.

Abby was not very knowledgeable about breakups, only being ten years old herself, and the most she experienced in the romance department was having a crush on the fastest runner in her class.

She did know however that the way Mike was acting was not healthy for him. He spent hours on the couch or in bed, barely eating and if he wasn’t doing that then he would be at work or picking Abby up from school, sometimes they would go and get frozen yogurt which Abby loved the most. She just wished you were there with them like before, when the three of you would go together and spend hours having fun at park.

Abby knew she had to do something, anything she could to get things back to the way they were and she knew just the way to do that.

It had been a week since the break up and neither you or mike seemed to be doing to well in Abby’s opinion but she had a plan set up and tonight she was putting it into action.

Mike received a message from you, his eyes widening as he read, “meet at the park 6pm” a short and simple text. Effective too with the way Mike jumped up running to the closet to pull out his nicest shirt and trousers, and then to the bathroom to shower and prepare him for the night to come.

Abby giggled to herself as she heard the commotion from her brother, taking his phone she started phase two of the plan.

‘bzzz’ you flayed your arm around in an attempt to grab your phone, a yelp coming from your throat as you read the message on the screen. A singular sentence from Mike that read, “meet at the park 6pm”. You expected to read more but that seemed to be it. Short and sweet. You layed out a simple long sleeve top and your favourite pair of jeans, readying yourself for an everything shower.

Soon it was 5:55 and both you and Mike climbed up opposite ends of the hill to the park situated right at the top. There in the middle was a bench and that bench was surrounded by rose petals, with a rose bouquet in the middle, and the bench itself was surrounded by mini lights illuminating the area with a gentle yellow tone similar to the sky’s as the sun set. All of this of course was done courtesy of Abby and you were quick to realise when mikes face was filled with shock when stumbling over one of the yellow lamps, it was clear he was not the one who had set this up. However that didn’t matter to you, the feeling of being swept off your feet into Mikes arms instead was all you were thinking about. He pulled you close to his chest whispering how sorry he was over and over again into your hair as your head rested against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. You silently basked in the feeling of his comfort you dearly missed for that lonesome week the two of you spent apart, not quite ready yet to utter the words ‘i forgive you’ and he knew that after all the hateful words he’d said.

Instead you both sat together on the bench looking out at the setting sun, content with each other presence and no words. As nightfall was falling upon the park Mike grabbed your hand “gotta get back now, Abby will be waiting” he brushed your hand with his thumb for awhile almost hesitant to say something as you waited patiently. “do you want to come?” you break out into a smile, “of course, i always want to go with you”, you reply already dragging him by the arm to the directions of his house.

His house which you knew inside had a very nervous ten year old girl who would see you both walk through the door holding hands and celebrate the most out of all of you.

~unedited~

#mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x y/n

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ipseitydelrey · 8 months

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Could I request headcanons of Elle Greenaway and Jennifer Jareau with a fem!reader who insists they’re not drunk (when they most definitely are) XD

sounds like a funny idea, ofc you can request this !!

“i’m not drunk!” ☆ elle greenaway & jennifer jareau

ship elle greenaway x jennifer jareau x drunk!fem!reader

warnings reader is hammered lol, alcohol (ofc)

a/n took a while, so sorry about that! this is also my first polyamorous post so i’m excited about that :D

★ you’re probably at a bar with the team, celebrating a case that went by easily.

★ yeah everybody’s drinking (minus spencer and his arnold palmer), but you are HAMMERED.

★ stumbling around, slurring your speech, giggling and flushed type of drunk.

★ as such, you have to be supervised. downside is that you are probably the single worst person to look after while drunk because you are incredibly good at getting other people drunk too.

★ so penelope was originally slated to supervise you, but ten minutes after she joined you, you and her were drunkenly giggling about nothing at all.

★ the rest of the team that are present are also quick inebriated, but elle and jj didn’t drink that much tonight. so now they’re stuck with you.

★ they take the initiative and decide to take the team to their respective homes. after dropping everyone off at their houses, the only person left was you.

★ elle holds you upright the most as her and jj carry you to your front door. while elle has her arm around your waist and you arm around the back of her neck, jj fishes into your pockets for your keys. it’s definitely worrying that you don’t really react.

★ they practically drag you inside and then drag you some more to your bedroom after jj closes the door and takes off your shoes.

★ they plop you down onto your bed as you groan drunkenly. jj goes to get an aspirin and some water for when you go to sleep and wake up with a wicked hangover.

★ elle, on the other hand, tries to make sure you’re comfortable by only taking off your pants and situating you under the covers.

★ after she pulls the blanket up about halfway over you, you reach out and pull her into the bed with you, immediately wrapping your arms around her as if she were a stuffed animal.

★ jj returns with the pill and glass in hand to see you sloppily kissing elle on the cheek as she pulls away from you. jj chuckles, setting the items in her hands down onto the bedside table as elle tries to get you to calm down and sleep.

★ once you appear to be close to clocking out for the night, elle gets up from the bed but you whine in response, beckoning both of the women to join you.

★ elle sighs, but jj seems completely fine with it. they both do end up climbing under the covers next to you, holding you until you fall asleep.

★ of course, they end up staying. your bed is just so warm and they want to make sure you get your rest and you take your aspirin when you awake next.

★ luckily you have a day off, so next morning, when you wake up with a throbbing headache and the worst hangover, you find the two women still asleep on either side of you.

★ you do notice the water and aspirin on the table, but that can wait (even if your headache is telling you no).

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ elle ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ jennifer ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #lola glaudini #aj cook

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reyadawn · 4 months

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Worlds Apart

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: A chance meeting of the lead singer of Bad Omens has the reader questioning her current relationship...

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OFC, Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x Tan (OFC)

Warnings: 🔞, language, kissing, hair pulling, degredation, fingering, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, basically filthy smut 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤣

******************************************

The top was down to the red Convertible that I rode passenger in, wind blowing through my hair as I rested my chin on a folded arm perched on the car door. The sun shone brightly overhead and it was a scortching 87° in L.A.

A faint buzzing sound reverberated from the car and I heard an audible sigh escape from my best friend Tan, who was in the drivers seat.

"You realize that's the fifth time Jake has blown up your phone in the last twenty minutes? Just fucking talk to the guy", she said, her own dark locks billowing in the wind as we continued the drive through the suburbs.

"No. Not until he stops being a controlling twatwaffle", I replied, still gazing out at the scenery. Smaller houses started merging with much larger ones and I realized we were in the rich part of town.

"Girl, he's a man. That'll never happen. That's just wishful thinking on your part. Good thing we're headed to this house party because you need to relax", Tan said, glossy full lips curled into a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?", I snapped, tossing my best friend a dark scowl. Tan only chuckled.

"You're wound too fucking tight. I mean, I know Jake sucks in the bedroom but maybe if you had a proper orgasm you'd feel better", Tan laughed.

"Tan!", I exclaimed but she only laughed harder. "Where exactly are we going?".

"Noah Sebastian's house", she deadpanned. I stared at her in shock.

"I'm sorry but Noah Sebastian? Of Bad Omens? How the hell did you score an invite to his house and why am I being dragged out here?", I asked, damn near choking on my saliva. I suddenly glanced down at my attire feeling very selfconscious.

"Oh, I'm fucking Jolly. I didn't tell you that? Besides, you're my brst friend so you coming with me is a given", she replied nonchalantly. I could only blink owlishly at her like she grew three heads. Tan tipped her head back and laughed and I simply shook my head in amusement.

"You failed to mention this, bestie", I smiled in return.

"We'll discuss my lack of communication later because we're here", she said, parking in a driveway that was already housed by at least six other cars. The house was two story, modern and an off-white color that was completely surrounded by privacy trees and bushes.

I got out of the car and smoothed the front of my red low cut blouse that Tan insisted I wear complete with black skin tight leggings and flats. Casual but not over the top. Tan rolled her eyes at me before grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.

Entering the house, we stopped in the foyer to slip our shoes off. There was a dark cradenza along the wall that housed a modern day lamp, a wicker bowl filled with random sets of car keys and cell phones and a framed picture of a black dog to which I smirked at. Above the cradenza was a large mirror with a dark wooden frame.

After we dropped our keys and phones into the basket we made our way around the corner and into the livingroom. Two leather couches were divided by a large rectangular coffee table that was scattered with drinks of all sizes and flavors along with red solo cups and random bowls filled with chips and candy. Black curtains covered the windows and a large cieling fan was turned on full blast overhead.

All the members of Bad Omens were seated and engaged in conversations with a few other guys I didn't know. I shot Tan a worried look but she only shrugged in response before pulling me once again in her wake.

"Tan! Hey, karaste!", Jolly said, emerging out of the kitchen to scoop Tan into a spinning bear hug, breaking the hold I had on her. His long hair was neatly combed and pulled half up. His white tshirt clung to his lithe frame, legs encased in dark denim and black biker boots. Definitely Tan's type and I smiled at them.

"Hello, ladies", a deep voice said behind me. I turned, my body crashing into a very broad chest as a pair of heavily tattooed hands grabbed my hips. I had to crane my head back almost all the way to my shoulders to look up into the face of one Noah Sebastian. His long hair was neatly combed and hung loose down to almost the center of his chest and the long sleeve white shirt he wore was pulled up his forearms revealing more tattoos. His dark chocolate eyes roamed over my face and his full lips pulled back to reveal a mouth of perfectly straight white teeth.

I swallowed hard, my thighs pressing together and my heart hammering in my chest.

"Don't mind her, she just has brainrot", Tan said, coming to stand at my side with Jolly's arm slung over the top of her shoulder. I shot her a dirty look, earning a chuckle from Noah and Tan smirked.

"Let me give you a tour of the house, Angel", Noah said, his hand stretched out in invitation. I glanced down at his hand, noticing the size of his palm, the length of his fingers and I shifted on my feet, my thighs pressing together and liquid heat pooling into my panties. Good thing my leggings were black. Noah chuckled softly at my movement as if he could sense the effect. My mind briefly flashed to Jake but seeing as his attitude sucked of late, I shook him from thoughts and took Noah's hand.

I glanced at Tan over my shoulder who merely blew me a kiss and gave me a thumbs up. I shot her a dark look and flipped her off as I watched her disappear with Jolly down a hallway on the other side of the kitchen.

Noah led me up a staircase that opened to a series of hallways. We hooked an immediate left and I stopped in the hallway to admire thier albums in frames that decorated the wall. Noah turned to me and regarded me quietly as I looked at each album that was showcased.

"I don't know you, Noah, but I'm proud of what you've accomplished", I said softly, running my fingertips over the edge of the frame of one. Noah gently reached for my hand and motioned for me to follow him and I did without hesitation.

The last door on the left at the end of the hall was Noah's as he led me inside. It wasn't an overly large room but it was big enough to hold a book shelf on the wall followed by his bed and then gaming desk complete with professional microphone and gaming chair. His walls hung framed copies of thier albums.

The sound of his bedroom door shutting had me jumping and I turned to see Noah lock the door handle.

"Is this a habit of yours? Dragging girls to your room that you just met?", I asked, crossing my arms under my breasts. Noah slowly sauntered closer to me and I turned, backing myself against the wall next to his closet door until Noah's chest was eye level. He raised his arms, planting his hands on either side of my head and lowered his head until his lips hovered over my own. He shoved his thigh between my own, the pressure to my clit causing me to whimper and drag my hips over the hardened muscle.

"Needy little thing aren't you? Look at you, grinding yourself on a man you just met. How desperate you must be. Poor thing. Your're clearly not being satisfied", Noah taunted, running his fingertips across my cheek.

"That's none of your business", I fired back, glaring up at him.

"Oh, but it is, Angel. Your body has already betrayed that fact. Let me show you how a woman is supposed to be touched", Noah sneered and lowered his full lips to mine. His lips were soft, pliant as his tongue traced my bottom lip to silently ask for entry. I opened my lips to him, letting his tongue explore and taste my own. My brain short circuited and I worked myself harder on his thigh as a hand came up to wrap around my neck, the other tangling in my hair.

"Come for me, Angel...open those pretty eyes and look at me when you let go...", Noah said, squeezing my throat just a little more. I barely registered Noah's face as my orgasm hit me, my body nearly convulsing in his arms. "Good girl".

Noah pulled the top from my body and kneeled to peel my legging from my legs leaving me in just my red lace lingere. He let out a low whistle as he gave me a once over before going back to his knees and pulling my panties off.

"Look how wet you are, Angel...you're soaked and all I've done is kiss you...let's raise the stakes", he said, thrusting two long tattooed fingers inside my dripping cunt, curling them. I threw my head back against the wall and moaned, my thighs clamping around his hand. In and out his fingers plunged, thumb working my already swollen clit. I squirmed and whimpered, my breathing labored as I fought for control, for breath.

"Come on, Angel, give me one more...give me one more and you can have my cock", Noah said, fucking me faster with his fingers. At his words, my release hit, cunt clamping around his fingers. I screamed, my hands going around his forearm and he slowed his ministrations.

Noah lifted me off my feet, my legs instinctively going around his waist. He brought a hand between us to line his cock up with my core and pushed himself inside me until I felt him at my cervix. I thrashed in his arms as he gave me no time to get used to his size as he fucked me brutally against the wall. Short, hard, deep thrusts as his hands gripped my hips that I was sure was going to sport bruises. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, thighs squeezing his hips as his cock jackhammered inside me, relentlessly hitting my cervix.

I couldnt speak, the overstimulation rendering me speechless. Noah slipped a hand between us to thumb my clit and I cried out.

"Let me hear you, Angel...come on...let me hear how fucking good you feel...bet that asshole boyfriend of yours can't fuck you like this, huh? You're mine now...you belong to me...my own personal cock sleeve...fuck, you're so tight...gonna' come soon", Noah said, breathing ragged.

I couldn't do anything but let him rail me against the wall, my body damn near on the verge of blacking out.

"What's the matter, pretty girl? You fucked so dumb you can't speak? That pretty head of yours empty? Brainrotting? Nothing but empty fucking space?", Noah teased and picked up his pace, rubbing my clit harder and I arched my back off the wall as the final thread snapped. My release coated his cock and balls at the same time he roared out his own and filled my cervix with thick ropes of come.

******************************************

A few hours later, when I could finally walk straight, Noah and I went downstairs and into the kitchen for something to eat.

"Go find Tan. I'll throw together a BLT and some chips for us", Noah said, kissing my cheek. I wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall I saw Tan and Jolly disappear down earlier. First door I came to, I knocked and cracked it open just enough to see Tan on all fours on the bed. Jolly was behind her, one hand on her hip and the other in the center of her back to press her into the mattress. Jolly's snap of his hips had Tan screaming and fisting the covers and I slowly closed the door, tip toeing back down the hall.

Entering the kitchen, I went up to Noah and wrapped my arms around his waist as he finished preparing our meal. Noah paused to plant a kiss to my temple.

"You find Tan?", he asked softly. I nodded.

"She's currently getting railed into the next century so she'll be a while", I smirked, popping a chip in my mouth. Noah laughed and it was a beautiful sound as I followed him to the livingroom.

"So...you gonna' ditch the fucktard you're with to be mine?", Noah asked as we sat down on the couch to eat. I paused mid-bite of my sandwhich and looked over at him.

"You want me to be? Think we put the cart before the horse", I smiled.

"I definitely want you to be. We already know the physical chemistry is there. I want to see the rest", Noah replied, caressing the side of my face.

I smiled and nodded, the future suddenly looking a little brighter.

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

@lilhobgobbler @livingdeceasedgirl @concreteangel92 @darling-millicent-aubrey @lma1986 @thefallennightmare @artificialbreezy @amourtoken

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut

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tiyoin · 6 months

Text

cult of pomefiore #2

cw: describes imagery of cult sacrifices

maybe you’re friends with epel and the first year gang, mayyybe epel confessed to you saying how he’s liked you the moment he met you🙈 ofc he’s nervy, but he’s a man! not a pus- oh, you don’t see him that way? oh, no that’s okay! he just hopes this doesn’t effect your friendship!

he’s so calm and understanding on the outside, but on the inside oh ho ho ho, on the inside he’s seething

epel’s calling you horrendous names, wishing horrors on you for playing with him. you’re just like every other girl, using him. his grandma warned him about heart breakers like you, and he’s out for revenge.

so he gives your name to rook for a scarface. that’ll show you!! that’ll make you regret humiliating him like that! for giving him all these stolen glances and fleeting touches. that’ll show you for playing with his heart like that!

and yet… he can’t help but pause as he sees rook chatting you up. you’re giving him the same treatment you gave epel, shy eyes and fidgeting fingers, the tips of your shoes were squirming and you had that eye contact issue.

ah. so you were like this like everyone, epel wasn’t special, he was just delusional. letting the hunter play him like a fiddle and feeding him twisted truths and half lies… all to get, to you.

he didn’t know how long he was staring until a chill went up his spine. his gaze snapped to the hunter’s as purple met green. rook had caught him looking at you again. but this time, instead of beckoning the first year over, he put a gloved hand on your shoulder and guided you to towards the opposite direction, liquid praise trickling from his lips as an impish look shadowed his face.

rook had agreed with him when he brought up your name for a new member. to indoctrinate into the cult. he remembers the feeling anger and deep satisfaction when the hunter had all but brought you up to vil. spinning him tales of how untainted your soul was, yet how clouded your eyes were and how with a little training you’d be good for the table in time for the full moon!

and yet… watching the hunter leave with his prize made bile squeeze up his throat like squeezing toothpaste from its tube.

his books dropped with a mutter thud as he collapsed to his knees. his legs were numb and his forehead felt prickly, clamy as images upon images of you, sweet, innocent you flooded his minds eye. you were in a beauty, silky night gown the color of starlight. your hair was flowing like a rushing river, your eyes were shimmering like diamonds, and your lips were a deep red of the apples he and his family grew on his tree farm. your gaze upturned to the statue of the evil queen, eyes filled with hope and wonder and your hands clasped together in prayer.

like a slide show he was brought to the next image.

your eyes were closed, yet your soft smile never faltered. your hands were intertwined as you laid in your gown on a stone slab. ancient letters he could only dream of deciphering laid around your body like those blue mosaics on porcelain plates.

the room was dark and yet a soft yellow beam of light shone down on you. you looked… heavenly.

the chanting around you was anything but heavenly as he could hear the sadistic glee in the others words. he could hear the smiling as they recited the ancient texts they practiced just for rituals. they were shrouded in dark purple hoods, knelt on their prayer cushions as they dared not look up.

in front of you, rook was in his pomefiore uniform, a… distasteful glee on his face as he welcomed his brothers and sisters.

epel hurled chunks when he envisioned rook penetrating your chest with the ‘gift of the queen’, a lone tear of ecstasy escaping as the chantings grew louder.

the shadow above them was appeased.

the weight of epel’s rash decision now hung heavy on his shoulders.

epel had sold you to the devil

#i wanted to write about cult of pomefiore but i couldn’t answer the ask again since im still pained over it 😔#i’m sorry anon 💔#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere rook hunt #rook x reader #yandere vil x reader

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xaviermakesmeuwu · 2 months

Note

reader/mc and lads play TWISTER

LADS X MC PLAYING TWISTER

Okay so this would just be absolute chaos. Especially if all 4 of them were playing together. Also, just a quick note of this is all my own opinion so if you don't agree with what I've said that's alright. :)

Convincing them to play:

Okay so, right off the bat Rafayel and Xavier would be down for it 100%.

Like these boys would just light up at the idea of it.

And no doubt they'd be helping MC set up the game.

Zayne and Sylus on the other hand would be harder to convince.

Though, Sylus would give in easier due to the curiosity of playing a game with MC and the other boys.

But he'd also probably make a deal with MC for him playing.

Zayne would take more convince but would eventually agree to play if he could go last

And also for the others to play by the rules otherwise he wouldn't play.

In the end, MC will have successfully convinced them all to play.

Setting up the game:

Y'all know the three main boys would be arguing over who was spinning the spinner.

Sylus would just be there watching the chaos and first of the arguments insue.

MC obviously having to be the mediator and calm the 3 boys before telling the other 2 that mc would be spinning since it meant the boys wouldn't argue over it, or so they thought .

With much pouting and huffing from Xavier and Rafayel, the game would start.

That's providing they actually managed to set up the game before the argument started.

If they didn't then all of them would continue to set the game up.

Playing the game:

MC would be spinning the spinner while Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier and Sylus played.

In an ideal world, Xavier would be best at this

However we all know that he would fall asleep while waiting for his turn and would just drop causing him to wake up and be out of the game.

Cue his pout as he reluctantly makes his way to the couch and sits down, sulking before falling asleep again.

Rafayel would be so determined to win but also would obviously be trying to impress the MC with his dramatic poses.

This would clearly cause issues with the other boys as they wouldn't be able to stretch around him properly.

Until one *cough* Sylus *cough* did and would end up knocking the bratty fish man down causing him to flare his dramatics and cause a scene as he went to go join Xavier on the couch with his little pout he also does.

Zayne would be the most calm out of them all, sticking by the rules and playing as one should with these games.

But he would be having fun in his own way, even if he wouldn't outwardly admit it.

He would even let out a small chuckle when Xavier and Rafayel lost.

You bet your ass he'd glare at Sylus as it was just the two of them left.

And I'm talking like it's high noon type of shit

The glaring and the masculine energy on the mat.

It would almost be too much for MC to deal with.

He would ultimately lose due to Sylus being a menace and distracting him from playing which would annoy him heavily.

For Sylus, Is there any need to say that Sylus would totally use his Evol to manipulate the spinner or tug at the arms or legs of the other boys so he could win?

Like he would totally be the reason why Rafayel lost his balance.

And the show down with Zayne?

Obviously he'd use his Evol just to piss off the goody two shoes doc.

He would definitely use it just to mess with Zayne and stress him out enough for Zayne to mess up and lose.

In the end, due to cheating ofc, Sylus would end up superior.

Which would cause him to be very smug.

More than he usually is.

And he'd just taunt the boys

Which in turn caused arguments.

MC would be peacefully spinning the spinner, just enjoying the fact that her boys were spending time together playing what was supposed to be a fun game.

Even with catching Sylus using his Evol to mess with the other's placements.

She would feel bad that Xavier and Rafayel ended up losing so early into the game

But ngl it was kinda inevitable with Xavier's constant tiredness and Rafayel just trying to put on a show all the time.

It was just a matter of time until they failed.

When it was just Zayne and Sylus left, she'd be able to cut the tension with a knife.

Until Sylus used his Evol to mess with Zayne and causing him to mess up and lose.

And she would have to de-esculate the arguments that were caused by Sylus and his cheating along with his smug gloating after he won.

After the arguments died down, all of the boys would admit it actually ended up being enjoyable for all of them and they'd 100% play again though they'd wanna take turns spinning the spinner simply just to see how well MC would hold up against them.

Which would honestly be a lot longer than the boys expected since for some reason they see her as this soft lil naive cutie who can't look after herself even tho she's a badass and can 100% stand longer than the other boys.

Which would shock the boys completely and cause them to praise her strength and willpower.

After several games, they would probably slump against the couch and just lie there laughing about how the others ended up losing and it would honestly somehow become this funny but calm environment.

So there we go!! My interpretation of the LADS boys playing twister with MC! I hope you liked it!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #sylus #zayne #xavier #rafayel

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outivv · 2 years

Text

— Sneaking around —

Synopsis: they sneak into your room/ you sneak out (high school au!)

Warnings: mentions of an argument (Scaramouche (ofc)) not proofread

Characters: high school au! Kokomi, cyno, dehya, childe, and Scaramouche

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: I reallllly wanted to try writing for dehya, cause she’s amazing and I love her very much, idc if the prompt doesn’t fit her. Anyways enjoy, and take care!! :>>

— Kokomi —

“Quick quick get in here, or else my mom will see you from her window!” You said, ushering your girlfriend into your house through the front door. That was your first mistake. Your second, was the moment she took her shoes you immediately started kissing her. “[name]! I thought your mom might see!” Kokomi said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, laughing along with her until you were interrupted by none other than… your mom. Clearing her throat she says, “now, [name]. I taught you better than this.” You let out a gasp, releasing kokomi, and almost trying to hide her behind you. “If you’re gonna try to hide something, or someone, don’t let them in through the front door. At least try to be stealthy.” Your mother said with a laugh. Ah. She was joking. Wait a minute?! “I am stealthy!!” You exclaimed as both kokomi and your mom just laughed at you.

— Cyno —

“Hey [name], it really panes me to see you like this.” Cyno said crawling through the window. You look at him flatly. “Cyno I will push you off my roof if you don’t get in here.” Cyno’s typically emotionless face turned into a pout of sorts, “I think I’m hilarious.” He muttered, stepping into your room. You ignored his self proclaimed humor, and hugged him tightly. “I missed you.” You said burying your face in his hair/ neck/ chest (all depends on height really)

You haven’t been able to see each other recently, cyno being busy with student council stuff, and you being busy with academics and extracurriculars. Now was the only time you’ve really gotten to share a moment of peace together in a while, and you had to sneak around to get here, so you certainly wouldn’t let the moment pass easily.

— Dehya —

Dehya’s smile is bright as you hop into her car, giving her a kiss on the cheek as you too so. “It was cute watching you climb from your window.” She jokes, and lets out a hearty laugh. You punch her arm playfully, “you watched me struggle?!” She smiles, “of course.” You start to fuddle with the radio, until dehya stops you, “so, where to.” She asks. Right… you hadn’t even thought of a place to go.

“Hmm… we could… uhh…” you ponder, but everything is either closed at this hour, or… boring. “How about we just drive around for now, and then we can go to my place. I’ll drop you off before morning too don’t worry.” Of course, dehya already has everything planned. You smile sweetly at her, and grab onto her hand over the middle console. “Yeah, that’d be fun.”

— Childe —

The laughs of the ginger above you are heard loud and clear, even if he’s trying to suppress them as best as possible. “You look so tiny down there-“ he says before having to cover his mouth out of fear of waking up his parents. “Shut up.” You retort, as you start to climb up. You barely make it through his window before childe is practically right on top of you. Muttering in your ear about how much he missed you, as you’re about to fall over because all his body weight is on you.

“Childe!” You whisper yell, and drag him over to his bed so you can properly cuddle. He just stares at you, so lovingly, you don’t even have to say anything to him and he’ll be so infatuated with you. “You’re staring like a creep.” You say, absolutely ruining the moment. Childe pouts, “can’t I just look at my lover? We haven’t seen each other for a while now.” You remain unamused, as he continues to go on and on about how he missed you. “You’re such a drama queen” you say, like you didn’t absolutely miss him to death.

— Scaramouche —

“[name] unlock your window.” Scaramouche says with a sigh. You had gotten into a fight recently, and Scaramouche realized he was in the wrong so, he wanted to apologize. He has tried all day to say sorry, but you are rightfully still upset. But Scaramouche hates when you’re upset with him, so he’s… gone to plan B. Breaking and entering.

“No scara, I don’t wanna talk to you.” You say, closing your blinds. Scaramouche is growing increasingly frustrated, but the last that that will help is getting angry again, “[name] I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said what I said, and yelled at you. I was insensitive.” He says almost shy, but clearly still frustrated that things aren’t going his way. You don’t respond, he doesn’t even know if you’re still on the other side of the window. Until you open your blinds once more, revealing the light of your room, and your empathetic face. Unlocking your window, to allow him to climb in. “I’m sorry you.” You say, hugging him, as he lets out a relived breath and relaxes under your touch.

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ohforficsakelibrary · 9 months

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 8: Beet - If a man and a woman eat of the same beet, they will fall in love.

prev / series masterlist / masterlist / Lennie's shop ad moodboard!

Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~6.2K (It's a hefty one, y'all)

Warnings: Discussion of past character death, descriptions of loneliness. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms (f), creampie. Minors DNI.

A/N: Lenora breaks a bit but Joel Miller was a contractor and he's good with his hands.

This took me longer than anticipated to write, but it's a bit of a longer one and it's definitely one that moves them into new territory. Thank you all so much as always for your lovely comments and reblogs. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love these two so much and I sincerely hope that you all enjoy!

A soft knock sounds on Joel's door at 7:30pm sharp on Saturday evening.

Lennie is on his doorstep, blue linen dress and a soft smile, canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

Joel grins, checks both ways behind her, and yanks her through the door. He has her against the wall and she can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses her.

And Joel can feel the exact moment she melts into his hold.

“You stayin’ the night?” He quips, relieving her of the bag on her shoulder.

“No, Mom just said never show up empty handed.

“You wanna stay the night?”

“Feed me and we’ll see.”

“Kitchen’s through here,” he points, “leave your shoes on, you’re fine.”

“Smells, amazing. Ellie home?”

“Nah, she’s actually at a sleepover,” his eyebrows are arched as he sets her bag on the kitchen island, “for a birthday. She has friends.”

“Shame you’ve just got me.”

“Not a shame at all,” he samples the taste of her again before she reaches into her bag.

“I brought her this though, had a copy in my collection,” she pulls 2001: A Space Odyssey from her bag, “she’s probably read it already, but on the off chance she hasn’t.”

Joel fits in behind her, pressing his chest to her back. “Ohh, that’s a classic. She’s gonna love that. Thank you, Len.”

She pulls an amber dropper bottle from her bag next, “and Tommy stopped by, said you wanted bitters?”

Joel takes the bottle from her fingers, holding it up to the light. “Tommy did some meddling then. He dropped off a batch of maple whiskey this morning.”

“Well then, it only seems right to make an old fashioned,” and she reaches into her bag for a bottle of gin, “and you can keep that for whatever you’d like.”

“How the fuck did you make bitters?” One hand rubs at her hip as he places the dropper on the counter.

“Gentian root, ginger, lavender, cherry bark, black walnut, you want me to keep going?”

“No,” Joel’s hips are pressed against her ass, “I want to kiss you.”

"Kiss me then."

Joel spins her around, hoists her up onto the kitchen island and fits between her legs, fingers skating up her thighs. She fits both hands to his jaw as he presses soft lips to hers.

Slowly, tenderly at first before he slips his tongue into her mouth, drawing forth a moan from the back of her throat.

And it’s nothing short of relief, this flood of affection from a granite man.

Being left to her own devices these past few days had caused slippage. Even with the rush of him still warm through her blood.

He could still change his mind.

Lennie swallows hard when his mouth moves away, fingers still drawing light circles on her thighs with the flats of his nails.

“Anything I can do to help?” She asks, tucking a curl behind his ear.

A need to feel useful.

“You can tell me how you like your steak,” Joel grins up at her.

“Medium rare?”

“That a question or your answer?”

“Medium rare.” She says again and he steals another kiss before turning back to the stove.

Joel doesn’t allow her to lift a finger.

He fixes them drinks and ushers her to the dining table.

He dishes out a salad topped with sliced beet and goat’s cheese.

He places a perfectly-cooked medium rare steak in front of her with mashed potato and broccoli accompaniments.

He keeps her water and whiskey glasses full.

He offers her strawberries and hand-whipped sweet cream for dessert.

He doesn’t let her help with the dishes.

Instead, Joel again places her on the countertop, beside the sink this time, and Lennie swings her feet and laughs at his jokes and accepts the kisses he offers while dodging soapy hands.

And Joel thinks what a privilege it is to have a smart beautiful thing here purely to keep you company and not because your back needs watchin’.

_____

“You want the tour?” Joel finally asks, crumpling a dish towel between his hands before he hangs it on the oven handle and dries the backs of his hands on his jeans.

“Sure.”

"You sure you're sure, you didn't sound sure."

"I am."

"Alright. Thought you'd say somethin' smart," he helps her down from the countertop and places her feet back on the floor, "like 'is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?'" He pitches his voice up a hair and mimics her northeastern accent.

"Is it?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Lennie doesn't answer.

He refills their whiskey instead and starts with the bottom floor.

Joel's home is still sparse because he hasn’t quite filled the space yet. The house had sat vacant for years before folks borrowed trinkets to adorn their own spaces and bartering for replacements had been too low on his list of priorities.

The pictures of someone else’s family have been taken down and relegated to a box somewhere.

Joel has none of his own.

Lennie hangs back as he shows her Ellie’s ‘lair’ and ‘the good bathroom’ with the bathtub, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands, always sticking to the doorway of each room as Joel guides her through.

She never quite sets her feet over thresholds.

And Joel notices, but he can’t figure out why.

“You have a record player,” Lennie’s eyes light up when she spots it in the corner of the living room upon their return.

“Not sure if it works, haven’t tried it. But there are a few albums left,” Joel sets his glass down on the coffee table and slumps down on the couch, suddenly aware of the dull ache in his back from being on his feet far too long.

He notices that she wants to check but it’s like she needs permission.

“Go on, take a look,” he urges her and Lennie sits on her heels in front of the media cabinet as she flips through the small collection.

She hums to herself, “mm, we don’t have this one,” and he notes the use of the word but doesn’t ask, because she’s holding up a Diana Krall album with light in her eyes and asking if she can put it on.

“Only if you’ll dance with me,” he stands, ignoring the way his back muscles protest because the need to hold her again is too strong.

“Didn’t take you for a dancing man,” she takes his hand as the soft sound of jazz fills the room.

He fits both hands around the small of her back as she encircles his neck.

He can feel the faintest tremor thrumming through her muscles.

And the way she's too conscious of her breathing.

“Hey, Len,” and she feels it rumble through his chest where she’s held tight there, “can I ask you somethin’?”

She hums.

“What’s up? You’re like a— a vampire.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It’s okay if you are. Just. Warn a man.”

Lennie doesn't laugh.

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.” She feels him smile into her hairline. “Len, what’s going on?”

“I’ll try. You made the most beautiful dinner, and damn good old fashioneds, and you have a beautiful house. It’s been such a lovely evening.”

“You leavin’?” Joel pulls back and stares down into her eyes because those are leavin’ words.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Not even a little bit, baby,” he pulls her in close again, swaying her to the music, his tone suggesting what she’s just said is the most ridiculous thing in the world because it is.

But she sniffs hard against his collar and he leans back again to get a look at her face.

Lennie’s eyes are swimming.

The gold is lost.

“Oh, Lenora. No, no, no, none of that. I ain’t kickin’ you out.”

He takes her face in his hands with all of the tenderness he’s capable of.

Like clutching at a frantic sparrow with a broken wing.

And Joel briefly wonders if the kindest thing he can do is snap its neck.

He can’t. Its claws have already dug into his heart.

“You don’t have to leave, Len. Please don’t leave. Not yet.”

And gears gnash against each other in Joel’s brain because what he wants to say might lead to a flood.

Flood now and rebuild later.

“I think we gotta clear the air on something though.”

She tenses in his hold even against the soothing of his hand down her spine.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, baby,” he still soothes, keeping her head tucked under his chin.

“You closed up again tonight. M' glasses are gone.”

After a moment, “why the tears when I ask you to stay? And why don’t you ever ask for what you want, Len?”

She breaks from him to stare up into big brown eyes that are soft despite the firmness in his tone.

And the last thing Lenora wants to do is finish this evening by dropping her baggage off at his doorstep. But Joel can read in her expression that she’s about to deflect and his voice sharpens.

“Your honest answer, Len. We can’t do this if we ain’t honest. I may be out of practice, but I know that much.”

“Because I’m afraid to want things, Joel.”

Lenora answers quick because Lenora knows where all of her shit is.

She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Why.” He presses again. Firmly, but far from devoid of compassion.

“Because I’m terrified they won’t want me back.”

“I think it’s pretty clear that I do, though.”

“That’s exactly it. You terrify me.” She’s out of his hold now and he thinks better of pulling her in again. “All of this is terrifying.”

“But why, Lenora.”

“Have you ever felt needed, but not wanted, Joel?” She snaps back.

And Lennie watches the consideration of it ping around his brain.

Sarah, his precious baby girl who needed him for food and shelter and comfort, wanted him for the same from the moment she could parse the two. She loved her daddy. Screamed her head off the entire first week of kindergarten because she wanted her daddy.

Sarah’s mom didn’t need or want him. She made that clear.

Tess didn’t need him. A guard dog has his uses but she could have found anyone. Tess wanted him. Even after they blew up that night. When he screamed “I can’t love you” so loudly that their mismatched glasses shook in their cabinets. Tess still held him at night. Because Tess wanted him.

And Ellie, now safe in the want from the need side of things, still seeks just him out for comfort. She’s fed all day by the folks down at Mess and Mr. Hayes at the farm, and Jess who makes those maple candies. She is safe, her Uncle Tommy sees to that. But she still curls up at his side in lamp light on chilly nights. She chooses him.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Yeah. It’s all I’ve felt these last few years,” She’s taken a seat on the edge of the couch cushion like she’s afraid to settle in, gaze locked on the rug. Biting back tears. “Needed but not wanted. And not, feeling unwanted, just, not experiencing it—proactively. In the affirmative.”

“People here need me, but I’m a fixture.” Her voice is monotone as she continues. “Permanently cemented to the floor in my shop. They come and go, they take and they give you something material in exchange.”

“They look at me and see through me, Joel.” She gestures at her heart with her hands.

“They seek me out because they need me. But slot someone else with my knowledge behind that bar and really, there’s no difference. Occasionally someone shares a mug of tea or a glass of gin and I love that, I really do.”

She swipes the back of her hand quickly over her cheek.

“But the one person who ever wanted me died in my arms and he took it with him.”

“And I felt so empty, Joel.” Her fragile whisper cracks. “Everything just became so cold.”

“Tommy told me what happened,” he whispers, “to Andy.”

Lennie looks up at him through tears.

“I didn’t have anyone, Joel. For years. And I forgot what that felt like.”

And in this moment, Joel realizes that he’s never actually been alone either.

He had Sarah.

He had Tommy.

He had Tess.

He had Ellie.

You keep going for family.

She had no one.

And she kept going anyway.

He can’t say he would have been that strong.

He wasn’t. That first night without his daughter.

Without his heart.

“I forgot what it felt like to have someone spend hours talking to you because they want to. To have someone just to sit with in front of a fire. To share a sunset with. To make…fucking dinner with so you don’t have to do it all on your own.” She gestures weakly towards the kitchen.

“To be held and kissed and touched, Joel.”

Her voice is so small now, rasped through the pain that crushes her from the inside out and Joel wants desperately to hold her again but he settles for clenching his fist and shoving his fingers in his pockets.

He wants her to let it out.

"And I'm sorry that it breaks me apart like this," she swipes at her cheeks again, angrier this time. "It feels like something that shouldn't even matter, like I should be able to do this on my own."

“Andy left and touch went out of my life. Companionship. This feeling of being wanted. And I convinced myself I didn’t want it anymore. Didn’t need it.”

“And then you came out of fucking nowhere.”

Lenora holds a hand out and stares into her palm, “and to have it placed in front of you like food after famine.”

“Knowing that at any moment you could do something to have it snatched away.”

Her fist closes now.

“And I feel like I have no right to exist in someone else’s space and I think maybe if I just don’t take up room. Maybe if I’m not too loud, or too headstrong, maybe if I don’t ask, it’ll stick around for just a little while longer. I’ll make that compromise.”

“Because it’s the only thing I want. To have someone want me.”

“And I am terrified of fucking it up, Joel,” her voice is low as she finishes, finally angling her eyes back up at him.

Cheeks wet with tears that flow too fast for her to catch.

And Joel steps around the coffee table to kneel in front of her, noticing how she stiffens with the action of it, not unlike she did when Ellie hugged her in the stables.

How she flinches when someone gets too close.

Where she melted before, she freezes up again for fear of having said too much.

Of having been too much.

Felt too much.

Taken up too much space here in his home.

Her nerves are still terrified of affection, regardless of how badly he longs to give it.

How badly she needs to receive it.

And Joel pushes the boundary a fraction, brushing a curl that clings to his finger off of her cheek.

Running calloused knuckles as softly as he can down the salty streaks that mar her skin.

“Because it’s perfect?” He asks barely above a whisper, mouch catching on the syllables.

“Because it’s perfect, Joel,” she breathes, relaxing upon her skin’s recognition of his.

His heart jumps.

“Because it’s a taste of everything I’ve always wanted and the last time I had that, my entire world shattered and I’m afraid, Joel.”

“But for right now?” The pads of his fingers trace one tendon of her neck, as his eyes meet hers again, “it’s perfect?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, warm against his skin.

“Then let it be perfect, Lenora.”

And Joel closes the gap that opened between them with his lips. Feather-soft brushes at first before they feel the need to convince her more ardently.

He kisses her until she kisses back.

Until she winds her fingers in his hair and opens to let his tongue slip inside.

Until she lets herself feel his face in her hands and the taste of him in her mouth.

Joel only stops when she breaks for breath, chin reddened from the scrape of his beard.

“For as long as it is, Lenora” he whispers against her lips, “let it be perfect.”

And she clutches his massive face in her palms, searching his eyes.

Receiving nothing but sincerity in return.

She presses her forehead against his, “yeah.”

“Promise me, Lenora.”

“I promise.”

“You swear that’s the truth? The whole truth and nothing bu…”

“Stooop, Joel,” she chides weakly at his poor man's joke, touching the tip of her nose to his before kissing him again.

He smiles and hums from deep in his chest.

“Len?” He whispers against her lips.

“Yeah,” she sniffs, attempting to stuff it all back inside.

“What do you want?" Another kiss pressed to her mouth, "right in this moment, what do you want?”

“No thinking,” he adds, head spinning from having her this close. “What do you want?”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Where?” Joel breathes against her mouth.

“Everywhere.”

Joel stands, uncaring of how his knees click with the motion, and holds out a hand.

Her small palm is skittish in his hold.

Joel laces his fingers with hers.

“It’s warmer upstairs.”

"Is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?" Lennie sniffles and Joel looks her dead in the eyes.

"Yes. Yes it is."

_____

Joel guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her again to slip her sandals from her feet, encircling her ankles gently with each hand before trailing his fingers up the backs of her calves.

She shivers but not from the temperature.

Joel pulls off his socks before shedding his flannel and t-shirt, tossing both onto a chair in the corner.

He makes himself more vulnerable than she feels.

Her eyes track him around the room before he settles beside her on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek and turning her face in towards him.

“Are you cold?” He presses a kiss to her lips.

“No.” Heat from the kitchen has risen, warming the whole upper floor.

“Are you sure? I can start a fire.” He nods behind him at the fireplace in his bedroom.

“I’m okay,” she reaches to run a hand down his forearm.

“Whatever you need. You tell me, okay?”

“Yeah.”

His mouth is a quick distraction before his tongue slips against hers.

Joel's palm fits to her cheek, thumb tracing one cheekbone.

Fingers trail down the side of her neck and skate gently over the front of her throat before his hand flattens over her breastbone, tucking under the collar of her dress.

His lips break from hers to kiss her neck and suck on her ear as he palms one shoulder.

Lennie reaches down to undo the tie of her dress before Joel asks if he can instead.

Chill bumps form on her skin when he unwraps linen, broad palm soothing warm over her stomach when it’s finally bare.

He shifts with her to help slip it from her form, mouth never far from hers before he lands the dress on the chair over his own clothes. Lennie's hands fly to his hair slipping soft strands between her fingers as she finally turns her body in towards him.

The warmth that radiates from his skin sets her head spinning.

He presses kisses to her collarbone before returning to her mouth.

“Lie back, Len.” He whispers there.

Joel follows, fitting one knee between her legs. A palm on either side of her head, careful of her long hair.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums with arms around his neck when he tips his head to run his nose over the lines of ink on her left arm, licking at the sensitive ditch of her elbow before he nips at her bicep.

The press of his bare chest against her skin when he mouths at one breast through her bra makes Lennie moan and arch up against the solid weight of him.

He shifts lower to trail his nose over her ribs. Inhaling the cedar scent of her soap and pressing kisses to every inch of skin, pulling soft gasps from her throat.

He notes what makes her breath catch. What makes her fingers tighten in his hair and nails sink into his shoulders.

Joel worships down to her hipbones before Lennie grows too impatient to allow him to continue.

“Joel,” she pants and he angles big brown eyes up at her, “I need you.”

He wraps one hand around the meat of her thigh, shifting on the bed to settle properly between her legs, rubbing at her hips.

He mouths at her stomach before hooking fingers in the waistband of her underwear.

“May I?”

“God, please yes,” she pants.

Joel slips fabric down her legs and off of her toes, hanging her panties off the footboard before his lips trail up her inner thighs.

Lennie trembles.

"This okay?" Joel runs his palms over the creases of her thighs as she nods, thumbs brushing at soft fluff before spreading her open with a deep, needy groan.

One thumb gently starts rubbing circles over her clit and Lennie gasps.

“Mmm,” he growls as he lowers his face and breathes the scent of her deep, exhaling with a moan before his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

She’s already slick with anticipation.

Joel tentatively trails the flat of his tongue over her slit and Lennie moans and writhes in his hold. He continues, thumbs holding her open, tongue learning what makes her cant her hips towards his face.

What makes her moan his name.

His tongue dips inside of her and she keens and fists the sheets, tipping her head to the side as he curls the tip of it before one hand slings a leg over his shoulder.

Joel’s lips latch to her clit and she rolls her hips but one palm holds her firm, splayed against her stomach as two fingers tease before slipping into her heat, the slide made easy by her arousal. Joel quirks them, feeling for that spot where the silk of her gives way to texture before he beckons, coaxing a soft cry from her throat.

He presses his hips into the mattress in an effort to give his aching cock some manner of relief.

“Joel…oh fuu—” she whimpers as the tip of his tongue flicks against that sensitive bundle of nerves before he soothes with the flat of it and repeats. One of Lennie's hands tangles in soft ashen brown curls, raking, caressing, tugging when his fingers become more insistent.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs against her, rubbing the high bridge of his nose where his tongue just left, fingers still building in pace.

Lennie reaches up with her other hand to clamp it over her own mouth when his tongue starts twirling soft circles around her clit before he sucks hard.

Her hips buck against him and his eyes flick up towards her face.

Cameras are a thing Joel misses.

Lennie’s head is thrown back, resting on a halo of black curls splayed against his pillows, palm doing a poor job of stifling the moans that come from her chest now.

A chest that heaves for breath.

Breathlessness that he’s causing.

And so he stares for a moment, pressing the image into his mind like a wet flower between the pages of a book.

One that succumbs to the weight but leaves an imprint of its own against the text.

“There’s no one here, baby,” he whispers, reaching his free hand up to soothe over her sternum, “it’s just me.” He laps at her again, “you can be as loud as you want.”

The hand over her mouth slips down to run across his, holding him holding her as her ribs heave.

“Joel?” She gasps in warning.

“Go on, beautiful,” he murmurs against her heat. “Come for me.”

And she falls apart between his fingers and his tongue with his name lodged in her lungs on an inhale.

She only breathes again when her muscles give up their grip. Joel promptly stuffs his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with an audible pop.

Stuttering breath catches in her throat before she swallows hard. Joel makes his way up her body again until she tastes the tang of her release on his lips.

“I’m a bit out of practice, but I hope…” he starts.

“Jesus, Joel.” She laughs and rakes her fingers through his hair. “You were…that was.” A breathless whisper. “Perfect. That was perfect.”

He hums and nuzzles her jaw as she basks in the heat of him.

Basks in his attention as plush lips suck at hers.

And as his tongue slips inside he feels it.

Feels her melting again.

“Joel,” her hand clutches the hair at the nape of his neck before he tips his face to look into her eyes.

“Hmm.”

“I need you inside me,” she whispers.

“Whatever the lady wants,” he mouths at the curve of one breast through the fabric of her bra. “the lady gets.”

She sits up as he leaves the bed for a moment to undress, propping herself up with hands behind her back, knees knocked together.

Watching as generous fingers deftly unlatch his belt. As he steps out of his jeans and hangs them over the arm of the chair, careful not to leave them lying on her dress where the weight of denim would cause linen to wrinkle.

She watches as he bends to slip off his boxer briefs, noting the hole in the hip just below the elastic band from where his thumbs have worn threads away.

Lennie watches the breadth of his shoulders and the curve of his bum and the strength of his form and the smile on his face when he turns to her again.

She tucks her chin against her shoulder, staring up at him through big, bright eyes before her gaze slips lower to where his cock stands thick and proud against the soft swell of his stomach.

This man.

This broad, rugged, brutal, yet tender-hearted thing.

Wants her.

“Hey,” the corner of his lips quirk as he settles back onto the bed to sit beside her.

“Hey,” she echoes, tipping her face towards him. His fingers find her jaw and his mouth finds hers again. He feels her smile and it makes his lips spread into a grin, teeth accidentally clacking against hers.

“Sorry, baby.”

She just wraps a hand around the base of his strong neck and pulls him down with her against the pillows.

Joel’s palm splays across her stomach, rubbing warm circles into her skin as his tongue slips against hers, cock pressed against her thigh.

“Skin ‘s so soft, Len.” Joel presses his lips to her collarbone, shifting to kiss down her sternum.

“Mm, you’ve said that before,” she runs a hand through his hair before soothing across the span of his shoulders, briefly fascinated by the size of him.

At how much space he takes up.

“‘Cause it’s true,” he drags his nose against where the underwire of her bra bites into her flesh, “I like it. I like you, Len.”

Joel rubs his bearded cheek down her stomach and she squirms.

“Jesus, Joel that tickles—”

He hums a laugh that turns to a low growl, big brown eyes angled up towards her for permission.

She parts her legs and he settles between them, palms dipping into the curves of her waist and smoothing low over her stomach.

Joel meets her eyes as he rocks his hips, tentatively sending his cock slipping through the slick at her core.

She gasps and reaches for his wrists as he continues coating his length to ease the slide.

Massive palms hitch at the creases of her thighs, one thumb guiding his cock to notch at her entrance.

Brown eyes lock and Joel slowly presses inside of her.

Watching as her lids flutter shut while his mouth falls open. Tongue tracing the inside of his bottom teeth.

He pauses until her grip on his wrists relaxes, starting up a slow rock of his hips as her teeth catch her lip.

He takes his time with her.

Time to adjust.

Time for her to sink into the feel of him. Into how he presses and stretches and pulls and grips.

Time to build. In pace, in pressure, in urgency until finally he lets the reins out.

The way Joel fucks is devastating.

Hard, driving strokes that move her to brace one palm up against his headboard.

The roll in surprisingly loose hips that causes his cock to catch on her g-spot with every stroke before pressing farther against the deepest parts of her.

Palms that knead the flesh of her hips. Gripping to bruising.

A pace that builds in speed before slowing again when he presses himself deeper, grinding his pubic bone against her clit

Lennie twists in his hold, hands gripping at down and cotton as she sinks her teeth into a pillow that smells of woodfire and Joel and her ponderosa soap.

"Joel," she moans, "wait, I want—"

Immediately he stills, sucking in breath through his teeth.

"Y' okay?" He murmurs, watching her chest heave.

"Yeah," she rakes curls out of her face, "'m gonna boss you around for a minute though."

Joel bites his bottom lip and gently bucks his hips against hers. "Good."

"Move for a second?"

Joel pulls out and they both whimper at the loss as he sits back on his heels.

Lennie turns to lay flat on her stomach before casting an expectant look back over her shoulder.

Joel let's out a soft "oh fuck" and she arches her back slightly, accentuating an ass that Joel just has to touch.

She hums as he palms her flesh before fitting his thumbs into the dimples at the base of her spine.

"C'mon, Joel," she moans, tucking her nose back into his pillow, "don't keep a girl waiting."

"Yes, ma'am," and he shifts to straddle her form before sheathing his cock inside of her again, moving slowly, testing the angle. His fingers dig into her hips as he alternates between hard thrusts and a slow rock that grinds the head of his cock against the mouth of her womb.

And Lennie can't keep quiet now even if she tried.

He smirks when one hand again reaches to steady herself against the headboard and takes it as license to hook a hand over her shoulder to pull her against him when his hips slam forward.

"Oh ff—" She moans from her chest.

“Still with me, Len?” he growls over the staccato of skin on skin.

"You're too far away," she pants and Joel folds to brace his palms against the mattress and press his chest against her back.

The soft swell of his stomach fits perfectly to the curve of her spine.

He envelops her in his breadth and his weight and his heat and finally the wet of his mouth where he sucks at the delicate skin just behind her ear.

"Better, baby?"

“God yes,” she moans, “don’t stop, Joel.” Lennie’s head falls back against his shoulder and he grins.

“There she is.”

And she comes white hot with his name on her lips and his nose buried in her hair.

Joel presses deep for as long as he can before he feels himself hurtle towards the inevitable brink.

The moment he moves to pull out, Lennie reaches to catch a scruffy cheek that's burning with heat.

"Joel, stay," she moans, turning her face towards his.

"'Y— fuck — y' sure—" he grits out, panting frantically against her cheek.

"Want you inside," she gasps against his lips and it sends his hips slamming against hers as he comes with a shout, cock throbbing as he spills himself deep, weight briefly collapsing against her.

"Lenora," he whispers when his senses return.

She hums, boneless underneath him, basking in the way one palm trails down her ribs as he shifts to pull out and settle to one side of her.

Fingers skipping over the damp skin of her back before engulfing the base of her skull.

"Lenora, look at me."

She does, hazy and molten, eyes glittering with low lamp light.

"Can you stay the night?"

And her face splits with laughter before he pulls her in against his chest.

"Yeah, Joel," she nuzzles his collarbone, "I'd like that."

_____

“God she’s such a fucking bitch!” Ellie screams when she bursts through the front door just after 8 o'clock the next morning.

Lennie immediately stiffens, looking to Joel for all the world like the panicked deer that’s jumped out in front of a car. He holds up a hand in her direction and Lennie has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean because she’s sitting at Joel’s kitchen table in nothing but his brown flannel shirt and her come-damp panties and by all accounts she’s not supposed to be here.

“Hey, don’t slam the door,” he calls in Ellie’s direction, her heavy footsteps getting louder as she makes her way towards the kitchen.

“She tore up my fucking book, Joel!” She’s rounded the corner now, “she tore up Will Liv—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

Fucking caught now.

“Hey, Ellie,” she tugs Joel's shirt further down over her bare thighs.

Ellie’s eyebrows are in her hairline, eyes flitting between the pair of them before she speaks after what feels like an hour.

“Good job, old man. You bagged the prettiest girl in town,” Ellie slaps Joel on the back before moving to grab a plate from the dish rack.

“Ellie…”

“Oh shit,” something connects for her as she takes a seat, “that’s where you were the other night. When you came slinking in at like four in the morning.” She locks eyes with Lennie, “your house.”

And Joel’s been struck dumb because “Ellie” with varying degrees of annoyance seems to be all he can bring himself to say as she dishes out bacon and eggs.

“Honestly, though, it’s about time he got laid.” This to Lennie, who’s wide-eyed, red in the face, and certain that she wants to die.

“And there are worse people I could be forced to sit across the breakfast table from,” she shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “You know Martha has a crush on him right?" She throws a thumb in Joel's direction. "The school teacher? The ditzy one.”

“Okay, Ellie, room, now.” Joel grinds out.

“What, she does! Everyone in town knows that.”

“Ellie, wha…who is Martha? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Actually, everyone in town does know that,” Lennie murmurs.

“See?" Ellie gestures towards Lennie. "Thank you.”

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy calls as the front door slams behind him. “Jimmy wanted to see if we could help with the barn today and I told him—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

“I suppose this is the first and last time you’ll ever spend the night,” Joel looks over to where Lennie’s clutching the sleeves of his flannel in her hands and covering the bottom half of her face.

“It’s the first and last time I don’t leave before sunrise.”

“Alright, look,” Tommy reaches over Joel’s shoulder for two strips of bacon, “I’ll get outta here, you swing by whenever and we’ll discuss the barn, Ellie, you’re with me kid. Len?” He grins. “You enjoy your morning.”

“I’m not finished breakfast,” Ellie protests.

“Bring the plate. I don’t care. It’s across the way. I got a kitchen table too, c’mon, hustle.”

And to their surprise she grabs her plate and heads for the door. Tommy follows, throwing a wink over his shoulder before they hear the front door swing shut.

Keys jingle and the lock latches.

Lennie’s eyes are wide when she finds Joel’s stare again.

And to her surprise, he bursts out laughing.

The way it shakes his shoulders and rounds out his cheeks is contagious and she can’t help but follow suit.

When the mirth calms he reaches out for Lennie and encourages her onto his lap.

“��M so sorry about that, Len.”

“It’s—" she rubs at his heart over the fabric of his t-shirt, "it’s okay.”

She means it too.

“You know," she wraps an arm around his neck, "I’m actually just fucking you to get back at Martha,” she teases, sucking languidly on Joel’s bottom lip.

And it drags another laugh from his chest.

“Is that so?” Joel nuzzles her neck before kissing a path down her skin. “Sounds like you’re puttin’ a target on your back being here.”

“Make it worth my while then, Miller.”

And he does.

He eats her out again on the kitchen table, right there between the bacon and eggs. Has her coming on his tongue with one of her hands tangled in his hair and the other clamped over her mouth lest anyone hear.

He’s tempted to rip it away.

Let this Martha know exactly who Joel Miller is fucking.

The prettiest girl in town.

At least the door's locked.

And Lennie's safe here.

She's wanted. Right here.

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

one. you make loving fun (sweet wonderful you)

content (for this chapter): smut, drinking, bad jokes and flirting, cursing, fluff, some insecurities (both frankie and camila), child surprise (not a pregnancy fic), general softness, mentions of food, some lengthy prose

word count: 9.1k

a/n: she is here. i've wanted to write something inspired by fleetwood mac for so long and frankie (alongside @lcvenderblues meddling, ily) just lends himself so well for it. as i've mentioned in the series notes, this was supposed to be shorter but, in true me fashion, not only did it turn into a never-ending thing, i also somehow ended up with camila (whom i love dearly). so there you have it. i'm also currently without a beta reader so if you see mistakes just... pretend you didn't

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“We didn’t necessarily do things the proper way–Will would say we actually did them backwards, which I think is just partially true, I’m not giving you the satisfaction, Miller. You see, when I first met Frankie we didn’t say a single word to each other for exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds–and I know that, because that’s the exact duration of You Make Loving Fun. Technically, the first thing I said to him was Sweet wonderful you, and after all this time I still stand by those words. We could’ve done things in order, we could’ve done everything scrambled through whatever amount of time, but the result would still be the same–Francisco, my sweet wonderful you, you really do make loving fun.”

Frankie couldn’t remember the last time he’d belted out to a single song while driving–if he drove alone, the music would be loud and he would just keep the rhythm by tapping the steering wheel or nodding his head, never taking his eyes off the road; if somebody else was with him, there would either be no music or he’d just feel too self-conscious to sing.

Yet there he was, a drop too much of tequila in him (in the morning he would chastise himself for the rashness of his actions), windows down and music high, singing his heart out with a woman he’d just met at his side, her hair whipping wildly in the wind, McVie’s bass making the speakers of his car tremble.

He hadn’t planned any of it–he was meant to go to the bar, have a drink, maybe two, and then go back home and fall asleep on the couch with a movie he wasn’t even interested in. But he’d turned in his seat as You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac had started, and met the eyes of this woman–dark hair, big smile–who, pointing directly at him, had started singing and beckoned him forward. He wished to pretend it had been the beer’s fault, making him stand almost immediately, but truth was he was completely enthralled by her.

Frankie had danced with her as she sang along with the song, her hands in his, her body warm against his–they’d kissed before knowing each other’s names, her own shouted into his ear: Camila. He’d laughed, offered to buy her a drink, two, three, the conversation flowing so easily they’d found themselves moving outside for a smoke, and then to his car, where she’d seen the Rumors album tucked in a compartment of the car and her eyes had lit up.

He hadn’t thought he’d end up bringing somebody home, but her enthusiasm had warmed his chest, and suddenly he found himself kissing that smile off her lips as they stumbled into his house tangled together, shedding shoes and jackets through the corridor until they fell into bed.

She huffed a breath when he landed on top of her, laughter bubbling in her chest as she pulled back from the kiss and regained her breath, raking her hands through his hair while he lifted his head and, wide-eyed, looked down at her flushed face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, arms bracketing her head, as he lifted himself off of her, kneeling between her parted thighs–he lowered his gaze to where her dress had bunched up around her hips, uncovering her legs and giving him a peek of her underwear. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and when he looked back up a grin crossed her lips. “You alright?”

“Being crushed under someone’s weight was not how I imagined I’d go,” she snorted, hands falling to his shoulders, down to the front of his button up–it was already wrinkled from her touch, and as she thumbed a button he arched his eyebrows and lowered one hand to her skin, fingers brushing across her exposed collarbones.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” goosebumps crossed her skin in the wake of his touch, smile still pulling at her lips. He lowered his head into the crook of her neck, lips brushing her pulse point–he felt her heart jump under his mouth and grinned against her skin. “Feels like you’re alive to me.”

She laughed again, the sound making Frankie’s smile widen, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck, throat, chest, following the path he’d traced with his fingers down to the neckline of her dress and then further down, across the wrinkled fabric, her back arching as he moved down and down and down, a shuddering breath making her chest heave.

His hands followed, a too brief touch over her chest, cupping her breasts before moving to her hips, pulling the dress further up until her stomach was exposed and he could kiss the bare skin there, right above the waistband of her underwear as he caressed down her thighs, pulling them up slightly, parting her legs furthermore to slot himself with his shoulders underneath her knees.

His shoulders had been the first thing she’d noticed in the blinking lights of the bar, broad and constricted by his shirt, tugging at the top button she’d undone while they were dancing with a grin–he’d lifted his arms at some point, shirt riding up his stomach and giving her a peek of a sliver of skin. She’d thought about kissing the skin there, just as he was doing with her, the gentle scratch of his beard making her shiver.

“You don’t have to -” she gasped when he nipped her inner thigh, hips lifting off the bed with a curse muttered between her teeth that had him chuckle and look up.

“Where would the fun be in that?” he kissed her thigh again, moving slightly up as he hooked his arms around her legs and placed his hands above her hips. “Let me make it good for you, baby.”

A shudder of anticipation ran down her spine at his almost-request that had her flushing and push herself onto her elbows–she barely shifted over the bed, his hands keeping her pinned down.

“Is that the tequila talking, Francisco?” he grinned as she reached down, tracing his jaw with the tip of her fingers before pinching his chin gently, angling his head as if to lean over and kiss him. He liked the way she said his name, r rolling off her tongue, hissing s, hard c.

“A little,” he admitted, thumbs playing with the hem of her dress. He wasn’t drunk to the point of not remembering anything the following morning, but just enough to act cocksure. “But I mean it–only if you want to.”

Camila bit down on her bottom lip, another rush of excitement running through her–between the dancing, the drinking and Frankie’s kisses, every single part of her felt aflame. She dragged her thumb across the seam of his mouth, his lips swollen and slightly red in the dim lights of the bedroom parting under her touch–his pupils dilated, eyes dark and expectant. When she nodded, a shimmer crossed his gaze, and after kissing the palm of her hand he lowered his head between her thighs, pulling her gently closer to him–Frankie was eager, and with a loud sigh she fell back onto the pillows.

His lips never wandered too far from the soft skin of her inner thighs, peppering gentle kisses as he tugged her underwear down, parting just enough to expose her–the cooler air of the room hit her core right before he bowed his head, a kiss to her mound that had her eyes flutter shut. Pinning her hips down, Frankie pressed the flat of his tongue against her slit, and the moan that ran up her spine at his first taste of her made her shudder, hands grasping for the covers at her sides.

Another muttered curse left her lips as he dragged his tongue up to the apex of her core, her legs threatening to close around his head when he nudged her clit–he kept her thighs apart, fingers digging into the flesh as he glanced up at her. She kept her lips parted, short bursts of air leaving her each time he repeated the motion, lapping again and again, his tongue coated in her slick to the point he couldn’t feel the aftertaste of alcohol anymore.

Her thighs burned where his beard dragged with the motions of his head, muscles trembling as he picked up his pace, the noises filling the room almost obscene–had she been a little more sober, she would’ve felt herself flush with embarrassment, granted she could get past how good he felt. When he wrapped his lips around her clit, she clenched around nothing and moved one hand into his hair, tugging onto the locks somewhere between pulling him away and pushing him closer.

He moaned in response to the burn across his scalp, the vibrations making her back arch off the bed–again he pinned her down, hand spreading across her stomach, her muscles tensing under his touch. He shifted his arms, one half-draped across her hips with his hand reaching up, past her belly and towards her chest, underneath the now ruined dress–the other tucked into his side, hand dipping between her legs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” she moaned his name when he pushed his digit inside her, a mix of spit and her own slick aiding his movement–one knuckle, two, her chest heaving and she pulled onto his hair again, his name falling like a chant from her lips. He lifted his head then, enough to get a glimpse of her face–eyes glossed over, she looked down towards him and trembled at the sight of his glistening lips.

“This alright?” his voice was raspier, a little hoarse, caressing the skin of her stomach like a ripple of warm water. She nodded, eagerly enough her hair ruffled all around her head, and rocked her hips slowly into his touch. He began pulling his hand back, the drag of his finger making her moan and drop her head back.

“Please,” with a sigh, her hand heavy on his head, she arched towards him–he lowered his mouth to her again, tongue flicking over her enlarged clit as he slowly sank two fingers back inside her.

Frankie’s pace was agonizing, alternating between curling and pumping his fingers, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Camila had the fleeting thought she could not remember the last time someone had made her feel so good, right before he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot she never managed to reach on her own, and simultaneously sucked her clit–her vision flashed white as her legs locked around his head, orgasm washing over her with a broken moan of her own.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered breathlessly, hands slowly reaching for her chest–her fingers interlocked with Frankie’s over her stomach as he pulled his head up, the hair locks she’d tugged at falling messily over his forehead as he chuckled, the tip of his tongue peeking between his glistening lips.

“Thank you?” he tilted his head slightly, cheek brushing her red-marked thigh as her legs eased from around his head, falling heavily still over his shoulders. She snorted, squeezing his hand and letting her eyes flutter shut as he shifted upwards.

With her free hand, she took hold of his shirt, tugging him up to her until she was kissing him again, bracketing his hips between bent legs as he leaned his weight on her once more, their joined hands moving up across her body, her skin warm even through the bunched up dress and his shirt.

Frankie rutted his hips into her when she licked into his mouth, a muffled moan as her whole body shuddered at the drag of his jeans growing too tight. She locked her thighs around his hips, belt digging into the soft, uncovered, already slightly reddened skin, and with the hand previously interlocked with his, she reached for his hair and tugged slightly.

He huffed out a surprised breath when he found himself on his back, both her hands now on his chest to push him fully down as she tilted her head, hair tumbling to the side as she left a trail of kisses down his patchy beard, his neck, button after button undone by deft fingers until his shirt fell open and she was kissing his chest, the room rocking slightly in his hazy vision. He bucked his hips again as she undid his belt.

“Top drawer,” buckle, button, zipper, some of the tightness against his bulge easing as his hands quickly fell to her uncovered knees, trailing up and up to sneak underneath the dress that had fallen back down her frame.

“What?” words slurred against his skin, she was kissing his shoulder, shrugging his shirt off fully as she did. He sighed heavily at her insistent kisses, at her fingertips dragging down his arms to bare him, the tickle of her unbound hair to his other shoulder and chest.

The last thing he wanted was for her to move away, so he wrapped one arm around her waist, pushing her close to him–in doing so, her knees slid up a little and she settled on his stomach as he shifted up across the bed, moving one hand away to reach for the nightstand, blindly grabbing a silver-wrapped condom, movements hasty and quick as she went back to kiss his neck, grinding down on him with soft whines. He followed the movements of her hips with his free hand spanning against her side, dress wrinkling under his touch.

Camila pulled away almost abruptly, a little gasp leaving her lips as she straightened her back with her hands resting on his chest–her fingers pushed gently into him to balance herself before reaching for the bunched up hem of her dress and pull it over her head, letting her hair fall right down over her shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” her hands once more resting on his chest, Frankie’s fingertips dragged up her side–knee, thigh, hip, waist, thumbing the soft skin underneath her breast and making her sigh softly, eyelids fluttering shut as a smile still pulled at her lips.

“‘Cause you look real pretty,” he shifted his hands past her legs to tug down the rest of his clothes, the movement making her lean her weight forward, fingers curling against his chest as she snorted–and felt her face heat up.

“Lights are off, Francisco,” she lowered her face to him, simultaneously lifting her hips from his as he kicked off his trousers and underwear almost impatiently, belt-buckle clicking somewhere on the floor over the edge of the bed.

“Would you like them on?” the sound of the foil ripping made her eyes wander downwards across his body–she licked her lips at the sight of his hard length, tip red and leaking resting against his stomach. “Mila,” he called her softly–so softly she shuddered, lowering her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“I don’t want you going anywhere,” with one hand cupping his chin, she spoke against his mouth, his lips parting to chase another kiss as he rolled the condom on, reaching to grab one of her hips right afterwards, slowly guiding her down.

Camila moaned into his mouth as the tip of his cock nudged her entrance, her legs parting a little more around his hips to give him more room as she sank further down his length. The stretch had her dig her fingers slightly into his cheeks, working his jaw open as he now gripped both her hips, steadying her movements.

“Fuck, it feels good,” between one kiss and the other, inch after inch, Camila began pulling her head back. “So good,” muttered over and over as she moved her hand down–Frankie felt the blunt edge of her nails across his neck, chest, fantasized about there being marks the day after. “You feel so good, Frankie,” she cried out his name as she straightened her back and sank fully down on him.

They remained still for a moment, panting as they both adjusted to the position, a slow, gentle grinding on her part as she tipped her head back, hands resting on his chest–Frankie’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of him and rest on her palms, the grip on her hips tightening as he groaned softly.

“Look at you,” he hummed, kneading her flesh as he pushed himself in a seated position–her hands slid from his chest to his shoulder to the back of his neck, again a gentle scratch that rose goosebumps in its wake. The shift of positions made her sigh heavily, eyes fluttering shut as she bit down on her bottom lip and her chest heaved, pressed flush against Frankie’s. “Tan hermosa,” he mouthed against her exposed throat, seconding the next rock of her hips with one of his arms wrapping around her lower back.

She squeezed around him at his words, tiny breathless gasps at his words and the push of his arm, her back arched and her thighs trembling again. One of her hands threaded through his hair, a tingle spreading across his scalp when she tugged on the strands–but she did not pull him away from her neck as he kept kissing her, tongue dragging across her collarbones, tasting the salt from her skin. He could stay like that the rest of the night, he thought, buried to the hilt inside of her, nursing hickey after hickey on her soft skin, listening to her uttered praises.

But then Camila began moving, rolling her hips once, twice, held back moans trapped in her throat each time she lowered herself fully onto him, taking on a rhythm that had stars shimmer at the edges of Frankie’s vision–he knew then, resting his free hand behind him for balance, digging his heels in the mattress, that he was not going to last long, the smooth drag of her walls up and down his length pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

When he snapped his hips up to meet her half-way, she stuttered, bowing her head until she was muffling a loud moan into the crook of his neck, movements suddenly erratic. Frankie repeated the motion, again, and again, and again, the arm around her hips keeping her in place as he fucked up into her, each thrust punching the air out of her with a low cry.

“C’mon, baby,” he tutted, nosing at her cheek. “Let me hear you. Let me hear you, I’m close, so fucking close, so–” he groaned when she picked up the rhythm again, half-moons craved by her nails into his shoulder and a louder moan leaving her. “Attagirl.”

Camila did not hold back after that, the encouragements he kept murmuring through kisses making her dizzy, making her stomach flutter–thighs trembling, her rhythm started to falter again, clenching around him.

“Can feel you–little more, baby, just a little more,” he moved his hand from her back to her hip, reaching with his thumb to the apex of her core. She gasped at his touch, the quick, small circles he drew over her clit as he twitched inside of her–her lips on his neck brought his orgasm forth, dragged it on until she stilled with a cry of his name.

She went heavy against him, hot, long breaths caressing his skin as she clung to him, and slowly he shifted back, bringing his arm around her waist again to keep her close, guiding her to lie down on top of him. She peppered his neck and shoulder with small kisses, brushing her hand through the hair on top of his head, each strand standing on edge under her touch.

“You keep doing that, you might just be the death of me,” he murmured, the sudden quiet broken only by their breathings. Camila chuckled, grazing her teeth against his neck–he tilted his head and gave her more space, her kiss lingering over his pulse point.

“Feels like you’re alive to me,” she echoed his words, and Frankie laughed, his whole body shaking with it. She placed one final kiss on his neck and he could feel the smile on her lips before she rolled onto his side, a sigh leaving her before she moved one hand to her hip.

“You alright?” he asked softly, turning his head towards her. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing her flushed cheeks, and her lips were curved in a smile still, as she slowly rubbed down her upper thigh.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” she returned, and he brought his hand over hers, pressing down gently to massage her flesh. She sighed again, relieved, lowering her chin to his shoulder. “Just need a moment.”

“You can stay, it’s alright,” she flickered her gaze up at him, a few rapid blinkings before he leaned in, placing an almost ridiculously chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back. “I’ll be right back.”

She hummed softly, her eyes shutting right away as her hand fell to the empty space previously occupied by him, fingers curling as if seeking to hold onto the warmth he’d left behind. His gaze lingered a moment longer on her, the way her hair fell across the covers and around her head, soft waves now tangled. He didn’t need any brighter light to see how beautiful she was, her body curling up onto herself as her breath slowed down furthermore.

When he returned from the bathroom, mere moments later, the air in the room was heavy with the smell of sex, but underneath lingered that scent that had driven him wild from the bar–rosemary, fresh and pungent and somewhat familiar. Camila’s body was completely wrapped up in his covers, untucked and twisted from the bed, only the top of her head peeking from underneath, the whole thing shifting slowly in tandem with her breathing.

“Mila,” he called her name softly, just leaning against the edge of the bed with the towel he’d brought for her resting on his forearm. “You’re hogging all the covers,” he whispered with a smile, and a quiet groan left her–a noise of protest as she shifted and lifted one arm, uncovering herself and the empty side of the bed. All through it, she did not open her eyes.

Chuckling, he climbed by her side, leaving the towel on the nightstand and shifting close, until her warm skin touched his again. She dropped the covers and her arm back down, right across his chest, and bowed her head until her forehead was pressed to his shoulder, the other arm tangling with his, interlocking their hands together.

Frankie looked down towards her again, unable to help the delicate smile curling his lips, and ever so slowly leaning in to brush his lips to her forehead. She squeezed his hand at that–the only acknowledgment she managed to give other than another soft sigh, warm hair brushing down his shoulder. So he said nothing else–there was no need to–and just fixed the covers until she was fully covered. It didn’t even matter he was still partially uncovered, the sheets mostly tangled around her body instead–he was warm enough with her at his side.

When Frankie opened his eyes, he realized he’d slept all through the night without waking a single time–no nightmares, no fear for his child needing him all of a sudden, and the warmth radiating from the body next to him a comfort he hadn’t felt in a while. The morning sun filtered through the drawn curtains, hitting the lower edge of the bed with feeble rays, and though his head hurt terribly he forced his gaze to shift at his side.

He shouldn’t have drank that much–he wasn’t used to it anymore.

Camila had abandoned her curled up position during the night, shifting almost onto her front with one leg hooked over his, and her arm still draped across his chest, fingers extended towards where his farther hand was. The hand he’d fallen asleep holding was tucked under her chin, just above his shoulder, and was pushing upwards slightly, so that a pout formed on her lips–his own arm was stuck underneath her, a little numb, disappearing underneath her curtain of hair.

Her eyelids shifted as if chasing a dream, her breathing still even, and against his side Frankie could feel her heartbeat, regular and soothing. Shifting ever so slightly, he tried to angle his body to face her, but her arm tightened around him, and a groan of protest left her as she pushed herself closer, brows knitting in a frown that was immediately covered by her hair falling across her face.

“Sorry,” he murmured softly, mouth parched. He reached forward with his free hand, brushing the locks back and tucking them behind her ear. There was a smudge of mascara underneath her eye, and he cupped his hand over her cheek to rub at it gently. She hummed, leaning into his touch before slowly licking her lips, smacking them a couple of times.

“What time is it?” she blinked several times in his direction, frown returning until she cleared her vision and he came into focus, brown eyes wide that showed her smile before he glanced at her mouth. “Hi,” she whispered, almost breathless, and Frankie chuckled.

“Hi,” he repeated, mimicking her smile. “Still early, I think. I have no idea where my phone is,” he cleared his throat–he needed some water desperately, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from her. “You can get some more sleep, if you want.”

“Do I look that terrible?” she turned her lips in an exaggerated pout, moving her hand across his chest, shoulder, following the curve of his neck before she was cupping his jaw, thumb brushing across his patchy beard.

“Quite the opposite,” some boldness from the night before clung to him still, in that moment of otherness from the rest of the world they were lingering in, in tangled limbs and tentative touches. Though she attempted to maintain her expression of mock-offense, a grin broke across her lips–lips he was glancing at over and over–and a flush spread across her cheeks. She grew warmer, pressing herself into his side.

“Even without the alcohol?” she teased, the tip of his nose brushing his–neither of them seemed to care about morning breath, or the way both their mouths felt padded with cotton. As long as they were close. Closer.

“Especially without the alcohol,” he retorted with a nod, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers.

She kissed him with a smile still on, scratching his jaw as she pushed herself up to meet him, and he let his hand wander back, fingers brushing through her hair until he cupped the nape of her neck. Camila sighed in the kiss, and he took advantage of her parted lips, licking into her mouth as her whole body went soft and heavy against his.

Frankie moved slowly, slotting his leg between hers as he shifted on his side, deepening the kiss and then moved again, guiding her until she was lying on her back, and he hovered over her, forearms bracketing her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and parted her thighs to accommodate his hips.

He groaned when she arched her back to cant her hips towards his, a muffled whine at the rub of his underwear he’d pulled on before getting into bed against her bare core. It was suddenly clear to him that it hadn’t been the alcohol making him dizzy the night before, but her, her kisses, the way her body pressed against his, the soft sounds she fought to hold back.

For a moment, that was all he heard–the rustling of the covers, her breathing quickening, his heart beating faster, louder, his name hanging from her lips once and twice and then again–and then the doorbell rang, and Frankie’s head snapped upwards.

“Were you expecting someone?” Camila asked, a little breathless, turning her head towards the door of the bedroom, the echo of the doorbell breaking the glass that had shielded them from outside, from the day ahead.

“I think it’s my mother,” he spoke in a lower voice, flinching at his own words, and the woman’s eyes widened as he snapped her gaze back towards him, a hint of panic crossing her face. “It’s alright, she’s just–she’s not staying, just passing through, I’ll–” he brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth as he moved from over her, the half-kiss hurried and messy. “I’ll be right back.”

He cursed himself as he stood from the bed, scrambling to find a pair of trousers to put on with a shirt that wasn’t wrinkled–he pushed the clothes from the night before aside, the doorbell ringing again and the realization of what was going to happen making him suddenly unable to look at her.

“Frankie,” she called softly, and he turned his gaze to a vague point of the duvet, right next to where her hand rested now that she’d sat up. “Where’s the bathroom?” she fidgeted with a loose thread of the duvet, and on her other side she drummed her fingers quickly. Nervously.

“Down the corridor to the right,” he stalled for a moment, then forced his gaze up. Her eyes were still wide, still worried. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, and headed for the door before the doorbell could ring a third time.

The night before was a blur until the moment they landed on his bed–bits and pieces, snippets of songs and rumbles of music, bitter and sweet from alcohol and then her. They’d talked for so long, and yet he knew he’d never mentioned Alba–and with the way they’d moved through the house, she sure hadn’t seen any picture of her either. It was why he hadn’t brought anybody home in a long time–hadn’t even thought about it, before Camila.

“Ah, tienes mala cara,” was his mother greeting as he opened the door, and the little child in her arms immediately squealed, all but throwing herself towards her father. Frankie was quick to grab her, huffing out a breath that he hoped didn’t smell too much of tequila, stepping aside as the woman walked in.

“Hola, mamá,” he muttered, watching as she perused the living room. “¿Están bien?” he asked then, turning to look at the child with a smile–he couldn’t help it, the child’s joy infectious even when he felt like death. He needed water. And breakfast.

“Nuh-hu,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a smile already pulling at her lips. Frankie sighed. "¿Es bonita?” she asked–he felt his chest and face warm up, and was quick to glance away, focusing on babbling Alba instead. He could try and bullshit his way out of the conversation, but there was no winning an argument like that with his mother.

Mostly because he knew it was clear as day on his face that he’d actually had a great night.

“Sì, mamá, es muy bonita, pero–” she waved her hands in the air, as if shooing gnats away.

“Vale, vale, me voy,” she scoffed, walking back towards them. Frankie bowed his head, letting her kiss his forehead before she pinched the kid’s cheek gently, making her giggle again. “Ten cuidado, ¿sí?”

“No es como si me fuera a robar, mamá,” he chuckled, the sticky feeling of her lipstick on his forehead familiar and somewhat welcomed. He reached over to squeeze her shoulder softly, reassuringly, but his mother just looked back up at him with a sigh, patting the back of his knuckles.

“Me refiero a tu corazón, Cisco,” she murmured gently.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly with a shake of his head, but his eyes trailed up towards the ceiling, where soft steps came from upstairs. His mother shook her head, humming her dissent as she followed his gaze. “Mamá–”

“Al menos pídele una cita,” she whispered, the steps drawing tentatively closer, stopping somewhere down the corridor. “Chau, nena. Proteges a tu viejo, ¿vale?”

Frankie scoffed, a quick peck to his mother’s cheek with a thanking under his breath before she showed herself out, one last glance over her shoulder, towards the stairs that creaked–the situation was almost hilarious, his mother trying to steal a look towards Camila while the woman tried to be as quiet as possible down the stairs. All the while, Alba squirmed in his hold, curious about the noise coming from inside the house, too distracted by it to see the door close in front of his grandmother.

Camila’s head appeared first, the rest of her body still a step back, and she glanced inside the living room with a careful gaze–she saw Frankie first, her expression relaxing. She took the final step forward and then stilled, her eyes falling to the kid still in his arms. They regarded each other, and Frankie had to clear his throat a couple of times while she pulled at the hem of his shirt over her wrinkled dress.

“Well, I thought it took longer to get one of them,” she tugged the sleeves of the shirt almost over her hands, taking a tentative step forward before frowning. “Didn’t we use protection?”

Frankie hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he huffed out a laugh, holding Alba a little closer before crossing the space from the front door to Camila. Her gaze flickered from him to the child, her giggled pulling a smile on her lips as she tilted her head.

“Hi, nena,” she whispered softly, pushing her hand out towards Alba. The child grabbed her index, tugging it towards her face and immediately trying to put it in her mouth. Camila snorted, keeping her head tilted to look at her face. “I don’t think that’s very tasty, honey.”

“Alba, don’t,” Frankie chastised softly, trying to pry Camila’s finger from her grip. “Sorry, she will try and put everything in her mouth lately.”

“That’s alright,” her voice had a softer edge, eyes fixed on the giggling child. Frankie had managed to wrestle her hand out of the kid’s hold, and was now wiping her hand clean. “So she’s–you have a daughter?”

“Yes,” he looked up from their now joined hands to see her nibbling at her bottom lip, the hand he wasn’t holding fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, thumbing the loose button.

“Just a daughter?” she asked, her voice lower, and looked up at him. Wide-eyed, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, Frankie’s heart clenched at the hint of doubt in her words.

“Oh, God–yes,” he spoke quickly, and moved forward as much as he could while still holding Alba against his chest. “I’m sorry–yes. Her mother and I haven’t spoken in months.”

The tension left Camila’s shoulders, a long exhale that tasted minty and made Frankie all too aware of his own breath–he tilted his head to the side, keeping only his gaze directed towards her.

“You’ve been raising her on your own?” at her question, Alba tipped herself forward, lounging for her with open arms–Camila’s hand rested on her chest before his own could, keeping her upright and stepping closer, a wide and gentle smile as she murmured something under her breath as she rubbed her thumb across the child’s chest. Frankie shrugged.

“My mom helps, keeps her some nights if she thinks I need it,” he watched the soothing motions of her hand, the way Alba’s breath began to even, how the woman’s eyes did not leave the child for a moment, how her cheeks had a gentle flush that was somewhat different from the one of that morning, in bed. “My friends too–some of them. Benny can’t be trusted with a child on his own, I’d find her with purple hair or something.”

“Sounds like a charmer,” she chuckled, and after another beat looked up, meeting Frankie’s gaze. He sucked in a breath, his head bowed awfully close to hers–he wasn’t sure why it felt different now, to be so near her he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. In the new light, he could see faint shadows under her eyes, some remnants of the makeup she’d tried to wash off clinging to her eyelashes, the freckles dotting her nose, the grays at her temples that matched his own.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, shuffling on the spot. “I’m sorry, Mila.”

“What for?” she frowned. Frankie’s gaze shifted from her to Alba, her head now tipped back against his chest, eyelids drooping. “Hey, it’s alright–it’s not like a child is something you discuss with a one night stand. I understand,” she sounded so genuine, Frankie’s heart clenched again.

His mother’s words echoed in his head: at least ask her out on a date.

“What if it wasn’t?” he asked before he could stop himself, and watched the circling motion of her thumb still on Alba’s chest stop–the child grumbled in protest, turning her head to hide in the crook of Frankie’s neck. “A one night thing, I mean. That is, if–”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, almost breathlessly, then cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s plenty of kid-friendly places, too.”

“I –” Frankie hadn’t even thought of suggesting Alba went with them, whenever it was, wherever it was, if it ever was– he already imagined calling in favors, finding a babysitter. Camila hadn’t even hesitated. “Might be a little rusty, but I don’t remember dates including one-year-old kids, y’know?”

“Oh, you meant a date?” Camila’s head tilted to the side, and Frankie’s expression fell, the little smile that had begun forming dropping quickly as his lips parted. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said right away, covering her mouth to keep herself from laughing. “Bad joke, I’m sorry,” she repeated, moving a little closer to his side, dropping the hand she was keeping on Alba towards his arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she moved close enough to rest her chin on the opposite shoulder of the one the kid was falling asleep. “Whatever works for you–I’d just like to see you again.”

“Even without the alcohol?” he tilted his head so that he was looking at her still–from underneath the collar of his shirt, bright against her neck appeared a bruise in the shape of his lips. He stared at it a moment longer, while her smile widened and she nodded, chin digging into his shoulder.

“Especially without the alcohol,” she echoed, and he let his eyes flutter shut with an exhale.

He let himself linger in the moment, Alba’s warm puffs of air as she fell asleep against him, soft body slumped heavily over him, and Camila’s weight on the other side, the barely-there contact of her body against his side, fingers brushing his wrist with the same circling soothing motion she’d used with the child, the other hand resting over his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast over the three of them.

“Of course I am,” he felt her shift her weight forward before she kissed his shoulder from above his shirt. “D’you have your phone?”

“Back pocket,” he’d realized he pulled on the trousers from the night before as he walked down the stairs, and the phone was still there–before he could fix his hold on Alba and reach for it, Camila dropped her hand from his shoulder and took it, turning a little so he could watch the screen too as she thumbed in her number.

“There. Whenever you’re ready,” she smiled up at him, and almost put it back in his pocket, then stalled. “Actually, can I use this? Mine’s dead and I should get a ride back to my car.”

“I can take you,” Alba stirred in his arms, the few minutes of sleep seemingly enough for her, a grumble leaving her as she tried to squirm out of his hold and reach for the floor.

“I’m a big girl, Frankie, I can make it,” she smiled, and her eyes wandered immediately towards the child, gaze softening as he lowered himself carefully to let her down. Alba toddled towards Camila, her arms out for balance–it still astounded Frankie, the way she could cross rooms by herself now.

“I know, just–” he followed the child with his gaze, hands outstretched to grab her should it be needed. But she went on, straight towards Camila’s legs, arms lifted towards the hem of the shirt, tugging gently on it. “We could get breakfast–Alba, pórtate bien,” he chided.

“Breakfast sounds nice,” the woman crouched down, bringing herself at eye level with the child–her dress pooled around her ankles, and his shirt brushed the floor, Alba grabbing the hem and pulling it towards her. “I know, nena, it looks familiar,” again her voice softened, a mock whisper as she leaned in and pulled one corner up. “I stole it from your dad because I couldn’t find my jacket–but don’t tell him.”

Alba giggled, looking between the two of them but leaning against Camila’s bent legs, one cheek squished against her knees. The woman’s hand reached for her head, gently brushing her dark curls back and out of her hair. Frankie had only ever seen his mother use such tenderness with her. His mouth felt dry.

“Give me just a moment, I’ll be right back.”

He got ready in record time, brushing his teeth while simultaneously trying and failing to make his hair make sense–he pulled one of his caps on, not wanting to waste more time. A part of him was apprehensive, leaving the two of them alone–but the other trusted Camila already, and he hoped this once his gut would not betray him. He really, really hoped so.

When he returned–still in the middle of buttoning his shirt–Camila had abandoned her crouched position and was sitting on the floor instead, her back against the couch and her purse abandoned on the side, as Alba sat between her ankles and placed one toy after the other over the woman’s dress. She babbled as she moved a stuffed bear towards the other, which Camila held against her stomach, her eyes crinkling at the corners while she smiled. The moment Frankie walked back into the living room, she looked up towards him.

“That’s an interesting shirt,” she commented, eyebrows arching, unable to hide the grin as her gaze roamed across the print of his button-up. Dark green with a floral print, it had been a gift from his mother, and he rarely ever wore it, the pattern a little too bold for his taste.

“I’m behind on laundry,” he muttered, fingers hovering over the last button, eventually deciding to leave the neck a little open. “And you stole the other one,” he pointed an accusing finger at her, and Camila immediately brought one hand to her chest, stuffed animal and all.

“Who told you that?” she gasped in mock-offense, her eyes falling back to Alba who had been following the conversation, eyes wide and attentive, giggling between their words. “I thought we were becoming friends, and you went and betrayed me like this!”

“Don’t blame it on the child,” reaching their side, Frankie offered her his hand to help her up, and once she was standing, a couple of staggering steps before he steadied her, he lowered his head towards her a little. “Thief,” he added in a whisper, and Camila smiled up at him.

“Is this alright?” she asked then, almost tentatively. “I really have no idea where my jacket is,” she admitted, sheepishly. Frankie rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, gaze falling from her lips to the places his shirt draped over her shoulders and collarbones.

“Of course–I’m sure it’ll turn up,” he didn’t say it gave him an excuse to call her afterwards, to actually see her again if for a minute.

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat, letting go of his hand to reach up and fix the collar of his shirt, fingertips brushing his neck while doing so. “I was just messing with you–it looks good,” she hummed then, smoothing it across his chest. He scoffed, a light roll of his eyes before turning to pick up Alba, the child already lifting her arms towards him.

“Come on, I’m starving,” he said instead, and the woman scowled at his dismissal, walking just ahead of him to open the door for him and Alba–she’d picked one of the stuffed bears with her, and when Alba noticed she squealed happily, looking over Frankie’s shoulder all the while to keep her eyes on Camila and the bear.

The drive was quiet, except for the initial moment, the radio starting again where they had left it on a too high volume the night before–the final notes of The Chain leaving place to the beginning of You Make Loving Fun, a nervous laughter leaving them both as they reached for the volume at the same time. In the backseat, Alba squirmed in her booster seat but was otherwise unfazed, the bear secured in her arms, and they glanced at her half-guiltily before turning towards each other.

Frankie thought he could’ve kissed her right there and then, above the handbrake with their seatbelts pushing into their chests. He also thought he’d had the same idea the night before. Was sure of it, actually. He’d probably done it, too, the alcohol making him bold enough.

But he didn’t need courage, he realized. It was so easy to be at Camila’s side, to talk about nothing and everything all at once, to joke and laugh and listen to her hum along with the songs, watch as she looked into the mirror towards Alba and made faces at her that made the child giggle with unabashed glee.

He forgot, for the whole ride, that they hadn’t even known each other for a full day. It didn’t feel like it mattered anyway.

Inside the café–right in front of the bar they’d been the night before, her car the only one still in the parking lot–there weren’t a lot of people. They sat themselves in one of the corners, Frankie between her and Alba, and ordered an exaggerated amount of food with two strong coffees–acknowledging for the first time their hangovers.

Passing in front of the counter, Camila had gotten an orange, and as they waited for the food she began peeling, the oils soaking her skin that still smelled like Frankie–a combination from his shirt, his sheets, his soap she’d used to rinse part of the night from her. In the meantime they spoke of her job–a boring office job that she needed to pay rent as she looked for something she actually enjoyed–and his job which left Alba with her grandmother during the day, how he still tried to be home early every afternoon.

“Yesterday was an exception–I barely ever get out when I don’t have her, and most of the time I just get a drink and then go back home to crash on the couch,” he looked down at the small white plate in front of him, the orange slices she’d dropped there dripping juice down the sides. She’d done it without thought, alternating between eating some herself and giving it to him as she listened, stealing glances at Alba every now and again. “I don’t–I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve done any of this.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to apologize?” she tilted her head as he bit into one of the orange slices, then removed the skin from the remaining half and gave it to Alba, her hands already extended towards him. “I thought this was going well.”

“It is!” he said quickly, his thumb catching some of the juice at the corner of Alba’s mouth. Camila repeated the process–one slice for her, another on Frankie’s plate. “I just–I feel I might be rusty, and I don’t want to f–” he stopped himself, a quick glance towards the child, “to mess this up.”

“Frankie,” she lingered on his name a moment, soft-spoken and tender. It hung in the air a long moment as they were brought their food, her gaze on him like a rooting force. He exhaled slowly, and only when the waitress left did he manage to look away from Camila. “I haven’t done this in a while either, you know? Any of it.”

He took a blueberry muffin, split it into tiny segments on the plate still covered in orange juices before handing them to Alba one by one–at the corner of his eye, Camila still looked at him and the child, the cup of coffee already in her hands.

“You can go ahead, she’s been obsessed with these lately,” he murmured, and to prove his point the kid began stuffing her face with the bits. “You still seem to be more at ease with all of this,” he admitted then, his voice still low.

“What about tonight?” she tilted her head to the side a little, food still untouched.

“You said it yourself–that was the tequila,” with a sheepish smile, he looked up at her, wiping his hands on the nearest napkin. “Made me think less about the fact you actually asked me over like that,” at that, she gave a quick laugh–a sudden noise that seemed to surprise both of them.

“Sorry, just–” she cleared her throat and took a quick sip of her coffee. “Why’d you think I asked you?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, honesty weighing his words. Camila’s gaze softened.

“My last relationship ended a little over a year ago–yesterday was the first time I actually got a night out for myself,” she spoke calmly, and for the first time that morning she did not meet his gaze openly, rather focused on the table as she ran her index all around the rim of the cup. “I just wanted to have fun. I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still, and I just wanted to sing and dance for a while.”

“That doesn’t explain me,” her expression shifted quickly, that same scowl from the house at the way he’d just brushed off her compliment. He almost apologized right away.

“You looked like you might need it, too,” she shrugged, leaning with her elbows on the table and cocking her head to the side again, meeting his gaze once more. “And I really wanted you to need it. Which made me really really nervous.”

“You seemed anything but,” she smiled then, lowering the cup to the table to fill her plate once she saw him eat, too.

“Liquid courage,” she said it almost conspiratorially–her voice low, not enough that he couldn’t hear her, but had to lean in a little. Camila’s gaze flickered from his eyes down to his lips, and when she reached over to rub her thumb at the corner of his mouth, Frankie’s shoulders sagged with a slow exhale. “We could just test out the waters, you know? Slowly. See where this goes–it doesn’t need to be a grand thing.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” her fingers were still brushing his face, and when he shook his head his stubbled rubbed against her fingertips.

“You’re not,” she replied in a soft voice, dropping her elbow to the table. With the motion, his head followed her hand down, resting his cheek into her palm. Like the night before, Frankie believed he couldn’t possibly get close enough. “I think it’s worth a try, if–I mean, if that’s how you feel, too.”

“I really do,” he murmured, and she smiled again, so bright and pretty his heart ached. “I just have no idea what to do.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” she shrugged, and then, lowering her head a little so she could look at him fully from underneath the visor of his cap. “Can I kiss you?”

The warmth in her voice took him aback, the knot in his throat melting with it, and before he could register he was even leaning further in, he nodded.

“Yes,” he added, pointlessly, feeling her hand moving to cup his chin, leading him close, closer, gently pushing his cap back so that it didn’t stand in her way. Camila’s kiss was delicate, nothing compared to those of the night before, nothing like that morning–chaste, familiar, almost casual, somewhat tender.

There, then gone, leaving Frankie with the thought he could be kissing her all day long and never grow tired of it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Santi’s voice sounded metallic and distant coming from the car speaker, his greeting as soon as Frankie called him back.

“I’ve got Alba, mind your tongue,” he retorted, watching as Camila’s car moved out of the parking lot, her arm sticking out of the window to wave at them. Alba laughed, returning the gesture and squirming in her seat. “Did somebody die?”

“Hola chiquitita,” Santi called, and Alba squealed in delight. Frankie suddenly wondered if he should’ve given her that muffin with all its sugar. “I could’ve died. I’ve been calling since yesterday.”

“Well, you didn’t,” for a moment he stared at the tail of Camila’s car–up until he could see, and then began driving the opposite direction. “What’s up?”

“No, not what’s up,” Santi argued, his voice growing in pitch. “Where have you been, Fish?”

Frankie flinched, shifting his grip on the steering wheel–he cleared his throat.

“I was on a date,” there was no going around it–not with Santi. A clattering and a muttered curse, Santi’s voice was suddenly closer.

“Excuse me?” he turned the volume down a bit, sighing as he tipped his head back towards the headrest, eyes still fixed on the road. “For the whole night?”

“Yes, actually,” he sighed, glancing towards Alba in the mirror–she was tilting her head at the sound of her uncle’s voice, over and over, as if trying to find him right there in the car with them. “My mom had Alba so I went out. Camila stayed the night. It’s not a big deal.”

“Camila, hu?” the other man almost taunted. “I’m assuming the night went alright, since it’s almost lunchtime.”

“We went for breakfast,” Frankie shrugged, even though Santi could not see him.

“You–” a pause, “wait, with Alba?” “With Alba,” he confirmed, a careful note in his voice.

“And it went–” Santi let the sentence linger, unsure. Great, Frankie wanted to say. It went great. I can’t believe my luck. It feels too good to be true. I’m afraid I’m about to wake up from a wonderful dream and be met with a disappointing reality.

“Alright,” he said instead. “Alba adores her, and she was–it was alright.”

“So, you’re gonna see her again?” he could hear the grin in his friend’s voice, and he almost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to hear the end of it anytime soon, he knew. He also knew he didn’t care, Camila’s perfume lingering in his car, on his bed, the promise of going on a walk soon, to keep things easy.

“Yeah–I will.”

222 notes · View notes

moonyssmommyy · 1 year

Text

My Marauders Headcanons Pt. 11 ~ Bartemius Crouch Jr

LOVES pizza

His fav food fr

Low-key like more dramatic than Sirius

Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch Team

Doesn't ever do a damn thing with his hair

It's always messy as fuck

Loves piercings

Has quite a few

Has one especially questionable one

Also loves tattoos

Has quite a few of those too

Always down to get a tattoo or piercing so if you want to get one and don't want to do it alone Barty's your man

Black is his fav color

Though Pandora says it can't be his fav bc black is the absence of color

Has a huge soft spot for Pandora

Besties with Regulus and Evan

Surprisingly close with Dorcas

Like ofc they're close

But they're way closer than you'd imagine

They make fun of each other alot

Bought everyone a pair of converse bc he thinks they should match even though they're not the same color

Evan wears them even though he's partial to Vans

Pandora adores them and they're quite worn out bc of it

Regulus actually wears them everyday though he still wears his dress shoes during class

Although Dorcas already has enough shoes and she has a pair of black converse, barty got her a pair of olive green ones that she adores, they tie for top spot as hair fav pair of shoes

Has friends in all houses

Isn't really that bad if he likes you

But he has a very specific image of how someone should be so it depends

If you do however fit such standards and then you do something that doesn't line up with Barty's view of you he'll be very upset and feel betrayed

As if you've lied to him about the most important thing in the world

Hypersexual

Wasn't really insane until his friends started dropping like flies

He was just slightly...unhinged

He can be really clingy even though he tries so hard not to be

He's aware of it and absolutely hates it

His friends mean so much to him and he just wants to be with them all the time which is really hard especially with Regulus because he absolutely needs his personal space

Barty does best with Pandora as she's quite affectionate but sometimes he can get on her nerves too

He also has an unhealthy obsession with snakes

Speaking of obsessions he gets very easily obsessed

Has many rings

Which is really unnecessary because he wears the same ones everyday

Can not go without them

He has formed an emotional attachment to them

They bring him comfort

Will panic if he notices one missing

He paints a lot

His paintings are really messy and really beautiful

Loves music just as much if not more than Regulus

Adores spicy food

The more it burns the better

He's kind of a masochist

But he's a sadist too

He's really tall and lanky

He has nice arms though

Not particularly muscular

But they're really nice

BPD King 👑

Calls Regulus Reggie to piss him off but later regrets it because he loses Reg for awhile

Sad boi Barty

AHHHHHHHHHH the Barty Brain Rot is real

No one will ever understand how much I love him

90 notes · View notes

andydrysdalerogers · 4 months

Text

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 16

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 15 ~ Unexpected

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 16 ~ A Shower Before A Storm

Leia

28 weeks

Have you ever had that dream where you’re running away from something but don’t have shoes on? Its like you can’t escape unless you have the shoes, but you can’t find a pair of them to save your life?

I feel like I am in that nightmare. And all I want is to escape.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hey beautiful.” Ignoring my choice of words, my ex-boyfriend is standing in my doorway with flowers and a smile. Flowers. And a smile. Like he hadn’t ripped my heart out and stomped on it seven months ago. “Can I come in?”

“No.” I swallowed and tried to stop shaking. I just keep thinking I need to stay calm. Our baby girl needs me to stay calm just like her daddy asked.

Bret’s smile fell a little. “Lee, don’t be like that. I know we have a lot of things to talk about. Please beautiful, just a few minutes?”

I don’t say anything because Miranda comes around the corner. “Leia, what’s... you!”

“Hey Miranda,” Bret flashes her his best smile.

“Don’t,” she says, shooting him a glare. “You need to leave.”

His face hardens. “No, I need to talk to my girl.”

“I am NOT your girl,” I growl. I see out of the corner of my eye that Miranda is texting someone. “You need to leave. Go back to Japan, Bret.”

Bret reached and took my hand. “No, I won’t leave until we talk Lee. I’ll be by my car.” He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles before letting go. He gently dropped the flowers on the door step and went back to his car. He stood and leaned against his car.

“Fuck, no,” I mumbled. I turned to Miranda. “He said he won’t leave.”

“I heard. I texted Stella for reinforcement. She said she would bring someone to help us.” Miranda chewed her bottom lip. “I think we should call Andy and Luke.”

“No,” I said. “They will just panic and try and leave the team. They are in a playoff push. If Stella’s reinforcement doesn’t help, we’ll call the police and then worry about the guys.” I rubbed my belly as my baby kicked. “Let’s just wait.”

Miranda frowned. “It’s your call Leia. Just be calm, ok?”

“I’m breathing and counting to relax. I’m gonna get some water.”

Twenty minutes later and there is another knock on my door. Miranda opens the door this time. “Leia, please come over here.”

I waddled as fast as I could to her. “What is it... Jeremy!”

Low and behold, Jeremy Swayman is standing at the door with my best friend. Stella smiles. “I was working on stretches with Jeremy when Miranda texted. What better than a six-foot two hockey player to help?”

“Hi Leia,” he finally said, looking at my face and then my belly.

“Hi Jeremy.” I hadn’t seen the man since New Years. I had already stopped working at the arena, so it had been about six weeks. My daughter kicks and I rub my stomach as I steady my voice. “Umm, as you can see,” I look around him, “I have an unwelcome guest in my driveway.”

“I can’t believe this douche had the nerve to come here,” Stella said. “Can I kick him in the balls?”

“Relax Warrior Princess,” Jeremy said, his familiar smirk on his lips. “I’ll handle it.” He turned and walked towards Bret.

“Stel, what the hell? Was he the best option?” Miranda, Stella and I watch as Jeremy approaches Bret and stops about five feet from him. We can’t hear anything, but we can see Bret’s face turning redder and redder. He stands up straighter, but Jeremy doesn’t move. He points to the car and then away. Bret looks like he’s about to have the vein in his neck burst before he says something else and then points to me.

I take an involuntary step back and Jeremy sees the fear flash in my eyes. He grabs Bret’s shirt and hauls him closer to him. Bret blanches before Jeremy lets go with force and he stumbles into the car. “Don’t look at her or come back here or contact her again,” I hear Jeremy growl out.

Bret scrambles for the car and drives off. Jeremy doesn’t move until he sees the car round the corner and turns to face us. He gives us his signature smile. “He shouldn’t bother you anymore Leia.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. I’m glad that nothing happened so it wouldn’t aggravate your injury.” A look flickers on his face. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just...” He ran a hand over his hair. “I know how much of a jerk I’ve been, and you don’t have to accept this right now but I’m sorry Leia. For everything.”

“Oh.” Was not expecting this on my bingo card this year.

“Anyways, if he comes back while the boys are gone, just call me.” He gave me his famous smile. “I’m gonna go. You look beautiful, by the way.” He turned and walked before I could get a word out. He climbed into his car and started it, waiting.

“He gave me a ride,” Stella says. “I’ll come back in a little bit.” She gave us both a hug and walked to the car. I watched the car go before I turned to Miranda.

“We saw that she was wearing his sweater, right?”

“They rushed over here Leia.”

“I’m not saying anything, just an observation.” I headed in. “When do we tell the boys?”

“Today.” Miranda frowned. “I’ll tell Luke and he can tell Andy.”

“Okay.” I resigned to my fate. Andy is going to go nuclear.

Ring! Ring!

Miranda waited to call the boys until after the game. Now at 1130 the next day, Andy is calling, and I don’t want to talk to him. I know he is mad and frustrated because he wasn’t here when it happened and he’s going to blame himself. But a teeny part of me thinks he is also mad at me, probably because I didn’t call myself. I was too chicken to call. The ringing stops and I get a text message.

Andy: Leia answer the phone.

Leia: No.

Ring! Ring!

Andy: My queen, answer the phone

Leia: No

Ring! Ring!

Andy: Leighton, answer me right now

Leia: no, you’re gonna yell at me

Andy: Baby I am not mad. I just need to hear that you are ok.

Ring! Ring! I sigh and pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Baby, are you ok? Is the baby ok?”

I chewed my lips. “Yes, we’re ok.”

I heard him sigh. “Ok, good. Did he touch you?”

“No Andy,” my voice wobbled. “He didn’t touch me.” A lie to protect his sanity. “When I told him to leave, he said he wouldn’t and I got scared but Miranda called Stella and she was working with Jeremy, and she brought him, and Jeremy got rid of him.”

“Jeremy? Swayman?”

“Yeah, I don’t what he told Bret, but he left like there was a fire.”

Andy was quiet. “That was nice of him,” he finally says. “Has Bret tried to contact you again?”

“No but I have his number blocked, so I really don’t know.” Silent came through the line and I began to worry. “Are you mad?”

“At you, of course not, my queen. I’m angry that he showed when I’m on a road trip. Maybe I should come home.”

“Andy, no. This is not an emergency. I don’t think he will come back, and Jeremy said if he needs to come back, he will and make sure we’re ok. Please, everything is ok, I promise.”

“If he shows up again while we’re gone, I’m coming home,” he replied. I start to object but he cuts me off. “It's not up for discussion, Leighton. I’m going to protect my family.” His temper was making his voice louder than normal.

“Andy,” I whimper, the tears threatening to fall.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I love you so much. I just hate that I'm not there.”

“I know but you have to keep your head in the game ok? I love you.” In the background, I can hear people calling for Andy. He has to get to the bus that takes them to the arena. “Score me a goal, okay?”

“I’ll do what I can, beautiful. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Andy

I can’t believe that cocksucker had the balls to show up at my house to speak to my girl. Why the fuck was he back from Japan? He hadn’t cared about Leia’s pregnancy before. Between that dipshit and her mother, I know Leia is starting to be stressed, which is not good. But I needed to deal with one thing at a time. I pull up my contacts to make a call.

“Hey Cap.”

His voice is nervous. Jeremy Swayman never got nervous, so I know that this is my fault. “Hey Sway. I just got off the phone with Leia.”

“Oh. She ok?”

His tone sounded sincere, like the old Jeremy who cared for his team. It threw me for a sec. “Yeah, she and the baby are fine. Listen, I just wanted to say thank you for helping her with Bret and chasing him off.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“No, you didn’t have to do that. Especially with the way I have treated you lately.”

I heard him sigh. “Look, Andy, I was a jerk and I owe Leia.”

“Well, anyway, thanks for helping her. I hope we can talk when we get back.”

“Sure Cap. Have a good game. FYI, Vegas’s goalie favors his left.”

I chuckled. “Thanks Sway. See you in a few days.” I hung up and looked at Luke and Brad. “I needed to tell him thank you for protecting my girls.”

“Are we done freezing him out, Cap?” Brad asked.

“Yeah, we’re done. We need our team back as a family and Jeremy is a big part of that. I’ll talk to the rest of the team after the game.”

Two Weeks Later – 30 Weeks

“Miranda, this is amazing!” Leia is gushing at the decorations that Miranda had put up for the baby shower. It was shades of pink and gold in the balloons and streamers. A banner was up with Leia’s name and Baby Barber. I fucking love seeing that. My little girl is two months away from coming home and I couldn’t wait.

Luke came down dressed and rolled his eyes at the banner. “Do you know how long it took me to get that thing up? It wasn’t straight for 45 minutes.” He kissed his sister cheek. You know I would only do this for you, right? Oof,” Miranda elbowed him in the side. “I mean, you and my love.” He smiled at Miranda, who rolled her eyes.

I covered up a laugh as Leia giggled. “I know Lukey, thank you, it's beautiful.” Leia clapped a little. She turned to me. “Just a couple of beers right?”

“Yes ma’am.” I kissed her softly. “I’m driving and the rest of the guys will meet me at the Red Line. I’ll be back for some cake. Love you.”

“Love you,” she replied as Miranda took her hand and guided her into the house.

“It looks like Barbie’s dream house blew up in here,” I tell Luke.

“You tell Miranda no,” he replied as he climbed into my car. “Almost lost an eye.”

I laughed as I pulled away, ready to celebrate my little one with the boys.

Leia

The party was in full swing with the WAGs of the team here, other friends that we had and some cousins from both of our families. Miranda had done just a fantastic job, planning and decorating. It was pink and sparkly, exactly how I wanted it for my baby girl.

“Have you thought of names?” Moa Ullmark had asked.

“Names are daunting. So much pressure to get it right,” I said with a laugh. “I've been thinking of some gender-neutral names. Like Avery, James. Bailey, Cameron, Frankie. We thought of them when we didn’t know what the baby was. I love the name Nora. But with a girl, I guess we can get more names.” I looked at Miranda and smirked. “At least I can veto the name Luke Jr.”

Everyone laughed. “I can’t believe your brother suggested that. Like really, this is your sister’s kid.”

“I personally love Avery,” Katrina Marchand said.

“And I love Nora,” Kiley McAvoy said. “Maybe you could combine them.”

“Will it be Andrews or Barber?” Moa asked. Before I could answer I heard the doorbell ring. “Well, we haven’t...”

“Leia, there is someone here to see you,” someone said.

I looked at Stella and Miranda and they both shrugged. I hauled myself to my feet and waddled to the door. As I walked over, I ran the list of people I knew and deducted that everyone that should be here, was and everyone that should have been with Andy, is. As I made it to the foyer, the image in the doorway made my blood freeze.

“Pink was always your color, beautiful.”

Bret stood in the doorway, a large teddy bear in and pink dress and flowers.

I was frozen on the spot. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel the panic starting to filter throughout my body. I guess it had been too long because Stella came looking and her face twisted in anger. “What are you doing here?”

“I just want to talk to Leia. I promise, I’m not here to hurt her,” he said. His face looked honest.

I blinked. “Umm, let’s go into the office.” I pointed to Luke’s office.

“Lee,” Stella grasped my elbow. “What...”

“Call Andy,” I breathed. “Get him here.” I moved to the office. “I’m just gonna listen,” I said out loud, opened the door and waited as Bret entered the office. I closed the door and took a couple of breaths before I turned around. “What do you want, Bret?”

“I want you and our baby. I want you to come home.”

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