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desperate-gay · 8 months

Note

jeez imagine Leah always catching you staring at her abs and then one day she’s teases you and lets you actually touch them

Abs

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

Saying you have a staring problem would be far from the truth.

Unless you are talking about admiring a certain someone, that someone being your very own teammate, Leah Williamson. It’s not like you purposefully stare at her, but what are you supposed to do when she is working out in a sports bra and glistening in sweat? Her abs are on full display, and who are you not to look? You’re only human.

Right now, you’re on the pitch practicing for the season coming up. You and your good friend, Katie McCabe, are doing simple passing and dribbling up and down the turf. A football goes flying past your feet from you being too distracted.

“Oi! What are you doing? We are doing the easy drills here, Y/l/n!” You blink to yourself and let out a big sigh, turning your attention back to the brunette. Subconsciously, you look back at the very thing that had you distracted in the first place. Katie follows your line of sight and sees Leah with her jersey lifted and wiping the sweat off her face. She looks back at you with an unimpressed look and smacks you on the head.

“Ow!’

“Get your head out of the gutter. You can thirst over your friend after practice.” She scolds while your cheeks begin to turn red from embarrassment.

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll race ya to the cooler!” Your feet get a head start, and you start running toward the chest that holds all the refreshing drinks, pushing Katie back to delay her speed.

“Oh no you don’t!”

—

Sadly, that isn’t the only time the Irish woman catches you gazing at the blonde. Arsenal just won the match against Liverpool. The team is all relieved but exhausted and just wants to head back to the hotel. All of you are getting changed in the locker room; some small conversations happening on the sides, but your eyes drift over to Leah. Fresh out of the shower, her wet hair lays over her shoulders and back, and most importantly, she’s shirtless.

Your head stays down, but your eyes still stay on her stomach. Her muscles flex with every little move she makes, making you clench your thighs. “Seriously? Again?” A voice startles you, causing you to let out an unintentional squeak. Leah looks over at the two of you and quirks an eyebrow. You smile at her and wave your hand, telling her it’s nothing.

Looking around, you make sure no one has their eyes on you before smacking Katie’s shoulder. She lets out a little ow and rubs the sore spot. “You can’t just scare me like that!”

“Well, I wouldn’t scare you if you were paying attention to your surroundings instead of looking at—” Her voice begins to rise, so you slap your hand over her mouth, glaring at her. She removes your hand from her mouth and puts her arms up in fake surrender.

—

The bus brings you back to the hotel room to stay the night, and everybody is assigned a roommate. You get roomed with Katie, Leah with Caitlin, Beth with Viv, and so on. Everyone heads to their designated rooms, but not you. Katie turns to you with her lip jutting out in a pout and pleading eyes.

“What do you want, Katie?”

She blinks her eyelashes consistently and finally asks, “Can you and Caitlin trade? Please?”

You look over to the Australian who is right next to her, also giving you a bit of a pout. Huffing, you offer your key card to the green-eyed girl, “Here.” Both of the girls smile and smush you in a hug. Caitlin hands you the opposite card, so you start to head to the room with your briefcase rolling beside you.

When you enter the room, the bathroom light is on with the door closed. Placing your briefcase by the front door, you make your way to one of the mattresses and flop down on your back.

“Oh, didn’t know you’d be in here.”

Surprised you didn’t hear the bathroom door squeak, you immediately sit up. “Katie and Caitlin wanted to room together, so we switched.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to room with me?” Your eyes widen, and your head shoots up. As you are about to defend yourself, you see a teasing smirk etch over Leah’s face, making the tension in your shoulders go away. She chuckles at your reaction while she turns her attention back to putting her clothes back in her bag. In all her glory, she stands with a Nike sports bra and a pair of basketball shorts on her body. “You do need to stop doing that.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

Her body turns towards you, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re staring problem,” she continues to look over at you as your mouth opens a little. “If you think I haven’t noticed you on the pitch or in the locker room, you’re wrong.”

While you try and stutter a response, the smug look never leaves her face, and she slowly starts approaching you at the end of the mattress. Your eyes are looking everywhere but at her, and you blurt out, “I’m sorry!”

“Can you at least look at me?” Her tone is gentle, along with the soft smile on her face. In response to her question, you shake your head no. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll be distracted.” You mumble in embarrassment.

“Distracted by what exactly?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Her pointer finger curls under your chin to lift your gaze at her. She bends down to your height and moves her face right in front of yours, both your noses almost touching. Her hands reach out and grab both of yours, placing them on her abs, making your face turn redder than a tomato. You retract your hands and move further up the bed. “No need to be shy, baby.” Leah crawls up towards you, making sure to leave a little space in case you get uncomfortable.

Your legs are stretched out in front of you, and your hands are placed on your lap. Leah places both her arms on each side of your feet and her knees sit on the end of the bed. You look down at her, her hair in a ponytail, biceps flexing, and abs still on display. “Leah, what are we doing?”

“Well, from the looks of it, we're sitting here staring at each other.” She jokes, which only gets her a look in return. “Okay… okay, you really want to know?” You nod at her, and she makes her way up and hovers over you. Your breath hitches when her nose brushes against yours and her breath fans against your face. She starts to lean in, looking at your lips, before pausing and directing her eyes back to your eyes. “Can I–”

One second she’s hovering over you, the next her lips are smashing into yours. Your hands are wrapped behind her neck, fingers threading through her hair, while her hands ground themselves at both sides of your head, holding her up. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces, and you never want to part, but unfortunately; both of you need to catch your breath. Leah is the first to separate the two of you, but not without leaving a nibble at your bottom lip.

Your hands trail down from her shoulder, to her chest, then finally down to her stomach. Her cocky attitude starts to make its way back over her body. Smirking down at you, she leans in to kiss your lips again. One of her arms replaces itself, so her forearm is now resting on the bed as her other glides down to the hem of your shirt. The cold feeling of her fingertips on your skin makes you gasp, allowing her tongue to snake its way into your mouth. Your tongues roll against each other, and you let out a small moan at the sensation.

Her lips make their way to your jaw and pepper down to your pulse point. She alternates between biting and licking over your sweet spot, leaving a red mark, and moving down just a little to repeat the process. “Leah,” she continues to suck on your skin, “Leah, the team will see.”

“So let them.”

You couldn’t even protest. The feeling of her skin on yours, her lips continuing to brush in the best places on your neck. It was surreal. You never thought this would happen; you thought you’d only be gazing at her from afar and that’s it.

The thoughts running through your head are soon interrupted by a particular rough bite. You hiss and dig your fingernails into her abs, causing Leah to let out a similar noise. She pulls away and tugs on your jumper, asking permission to take it off. You nod and sit up to help make it easier to slide off your torso. Without wasting any time, you grab her hand and place it on the strings of your pants.

“Please take them off.”

“Patience, darling.” She tuts, almost like she’s trying to make you explode.

Slowly, she pulls the strings of your sweatpants, untying them to get them looser. Her fingers grip the sides of your pants and pull them up to her, so your hips joist up, yours touching hers. While she begins to pull down your pants, she arches her neck down to kiss your lips again, diving her tongue into your mouth hungrily with no hesitation. Once your pants are off, she tosses them across the room and grabs your hips to flip positions.

Her hands slide from your hips down to your ass as she creates a slow, steady rock of your hips. Every so often, one of you pulls away to get a gasp of breath, and then you dive right back into each other.

Leah pulls back, her lips red and swollen. “Move up more, baby.”

Your eyes meet hers; her pupils are blown with lust. The movement of your hips stops for a moment. “What do you mean?” You gasp, still a little out of breath. Instead of telling you what she had in mind, her hands that remain on your ass pull you up, making you sit on her stomach. Before you have the chance to ask her why she moved you, her hand grips your neck and pulls you back down to attach your lips to hers. The other hand that remains on your behind encourages you to go back to rocking your hips back and forth.

The blonde flexes her abs, and right when you rock, it hits a pleasurable spot for you. She smiles into the kiss when you moan in her mouth. “You’re soaked, Y/n/n. I can feel how wet you are through your panties, baby.” Heat starts to rush up your neck, but not enough to stop the rhythm of your hips. Leah’s thumbs move to pull the elastic of the fabric that’s stopping her from fulfilling your needs. You lift your body, allowing her to pull them down to your ankles, so you can take them off yourself. “Come on, doll. Keep grinding, and maybe I’ll let you get off.”

You reach behind your back and unclip your bra, sliding it off your arms. She hugs your waist, pulling you in while you continue to slide your body up and down her stomach. The defender leans in, wrapping her lips around your nipple, and swirls her tongue around it. Between that and the continuous rub of your clit, you turn into a moaning mess.

“You’re doing so good for me, do you think I should reward you?” You nod your head, “I think I need more convincing than that, doll. I want you to beg.”

You’re quick to give her what she wants, desperate for a release. “Please, baby. I’ll do anything you want, just please give me your fingers.”

“That’s what you want? You want my fingers?”

“Mhm.”

Without warning, she grabs your waist and, once again, flips your position. She stands up and walks toward the end of the bed, leaving you with no time to react when she grips your ankles and yanks you down. Her hands massage up and down your thighs before she moves to place a kiss on your belly button. Your breath continues to race as you wait with anticipation for Leah to connect her lips where you need her the most.

She’s now down to your inner thigh, so she moves one of your legs onto her shoulder. With every other kiss, she leaves a hickey along with a praise. “You’re so gorgeous,” a kiss. “My good girl,” a bite. “Dripping for me,” a lick. You whine out of impatience, making her chuckle. “Impatient girl.”

Her tongue finally makes contact with your pussy, licking a long strip up to your clit. Your back arches, and you let out a booming moan, definitely bothering whoever is in the room next to yours. While her lips wrap around your bud, her right-hand makes its way to your core. She pushes her middle finger inside you while her tongue continues to lap around clit. It’s not long before she adds her ring finger, too.

The noises that escape your mouth make Leah feel like she’s on top of the damn world. Being able to please you so well, and also getting to do it with you. You, you feel like you’re on cloud 9. The dragging of her digits in and out of you while her mouth works magic on your clit made your head spin. She maneuvers her fingers around until she hits a specific spongey spot, which makes you let out a gasp mixed with a moan.

Leah lifts her head and continues to drag her digits in and out of you at a rapid pace. Removing your leg from on top of her, she moves up so she’s face to face with you. She gives you a mind-blowing kiss and moves over to your ear to whisper, “I know you’re close; I can feel you tighten around my fingers, baby. I want you to cum when I tell you to, okay?”

You manage to slip out an okay between ragged breaths. Her pace picks up, and her thumbs put pressure on your clit, making you feel like you’re body is going to implode if you don’t cum soon.

“Please, Leah. Please, I need to cum, baby. So, so badly!”

“Just a little longer.”

Your head snaps back on the bed as you moan and whine at the same time, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Go ahead, cum for me.”

The tightening in your stomach soon snaps, making your back arch and your eyes squeeze shut. The screams you let out are almost loud enough to worry the rooms next to you. Once your high begins to settle, your body shudders as your back returns to the bed. You move your hand to stop Leah’s strokes, overstimulated from the long wait.

She crawls her way up on top of your body and places kisses on the bruises forming on your neck. You pull her into your body, wrapping your hands around the back of her neck, guiding her lips to yours.

After a few more minutes of making out, you pull away, “You are really good in bed.”

“Really?” Her tone wasn’t insecure; it was the opposite. This was another trophy to add to her collection of reasons to be cocky. You roll your eyes and pull her back into a smiley kiss.

“Now, I think it’s only fair I repay the favor.”

“I won’t stop you, doll.”

—

“Aye, Leah. Seems like you had a good time last night,” Lotte wiggles her eyebrows and smirks towards the defender, “might need to request a room that’s soundproof next time.” Leah rolls her eyes and walks towards the buffet. Everyone starts asking questions about what the brunette is talking about, trying to nag more information out of her. “Well, our beautiful blonde friend here had someone over for some private exercises.” The smug look never leaves her face.

You bite your lip and pull your jumper further up your neck, so no one sees the colored marks on your skin. Katie sits right across from you, and you see her eyes go wide. She then darts her eyes towards Leah and then you. She opens her mouth and points toward you, confusing your teammates, who are startled by her. You abruptly stand up, heading towards her and grabbing her arm. “Katie forgot something in my room; we’ll be right back.” A fake smile plastered on your face as you drag her down the hall. You scan your key card and then push the Irish woman as quickly as you can before shutting the door and standing in front of it.

Meanwhile, the team sits in the lounge, confused as to what they just witnessed. No one even thought of you as an option since they assumed you were still rooming with Katie. “Okay, now what the hell was that about?” Beth asks out in the open for anyone to answer. Her girlfriend, Viv, just shrugs right next to her and continues biting into her breakfast. The rest of the girls reply with I don’t know, and head back to their conversations. “Leah, maybe you should go check on them.”

In response, Leah nods and heads towards your room. She felt relieved when Beth asked her to go check on you because she wanted to do it anyway but couldn’t without raising any suspicions. When she knocks on the door, it swiftly opens, and she gets yanked in by her arm. Before complaining, she looks and sees Katie at the end of one of the beds with an unreadable look on her face, while you stand right next to the taller blonde.

There’s a long silence in the room before it’s interrupted by Katie, “So, you two... are together?” She quirks an eyebrow, looking at the both of you.

You look at Leah for some help, but she’s just as baffled as you. “Well, we never really put a label on it.” Biting your lip, you look at the girl right next to you, making sure it is the right thing to say. She gives you a soft smile and a nod, before wrapping her arm around you and rubbing her hand up and down your arm. Katie silently nods before mumbling something incoherently.

“What was that?”

“I said about fucking time.” Katie cheers, lifting her arms in the air and letting them drop, which shocks both you and Leah. “I could not stand dealing with watching you drool over her,” she points at you, causing a smirk to form on the blonde's face right next to you, “and having to hear you talk about how breathtaking she looks all the time.” Your friend fake gags as you blush at the thought of your longtime crush gushing over you.

Leah clears her throat, “I’m glad we finally put you out of your misery, but you can not tell anyone yet. Please.” It was very rare if you ever heard Leah beg. The defender always had a reputation for getting what she wanted without having to look small, as she likes to call it.

Katie gasps and places her hand over her heart, “Did the Leah Williamson just say please?” You let out a quiet giggle, earning yourself a soft smack on the arm.

“Okay, you two, let’s not wind each other up. We just don’t want the rest of the team to make such a big deal out of anything right away; we’re just having our first date tonight. Unlike Miss Ego over here, I will beg you, so please, please, don’t tell anyone yet.” You put your hands together and place them in front of your face as a sign of mercy.

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t say anything.” You squeal and go to hug your friend. Leah comes over and pats her shoulder as a way of saying thank you.

“Okay, we better head back to the lobby before someone thinks one of us killed a person.”

—

After a few dates and making you guys official, you finally decided to tell the team. They were all stunned but so happy that there was another power couple in the group. If you thought the teasing from Katie alone was annoying, you were in for a big surprise.

It was team bonding night at Beth and Viv’s place, and you all decided to have a movie night together. Everyone picked little white strips out of a hat that had movie titles on them, so no one had to argue about what movies to watch. Both you and Leah are sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the couch, while you sit between her legs and your back against her chest. Her arms are wrapped tight around you, and a blanket covers the two of you.

“Aww, look at the love birds!” Lotte teases while Jen stands up and hugs herself, making kissing noises, causing the team all to laugh. Leah grabs the pillow closest to her and chucks it at Jen.

“Ouch!”

You smile and turn your head awkwardly to look at your girlfriend. Her facial features soften, and then she returns your loving gaze. She leans down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Your right hand comes up and grabs her cheeks to lean her further towards you. You set multiple pecks on her lips, causing both of you to smile in the midst of them. Without your knowledge, Steph catches the sweet interaction between you two on camera and saves it.

That same video was used both when you guys told the fans and also on the day of your wedding.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #leah williamson #katie mccabe #caitlin foord #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #world cup #england #lgbtq

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luveline · 4 months

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Hello! If you’re taking requests could we see how the kbd universe would be if dove said a little bad word? I just love her she’s trouble!

kbd —steve's daughter repeats something she shouldn't. mom!reader

Dove used to be quiet.

When she was a baby, up until her terrible twos, Steve would estimate, she was about as talkative as her mouse of an older sister, Beth. Steve would tell people they were like the light and dark of the moon, Beth sweet and shy, Dove stubborn and a little stern for a baby. She obviously wasn't always grumpy, far from it, but she saved up her words for when she really needed them.

Like now, apparently. “Daddy!” she says, grinning as she runs through Robin's back garden patio. “Mora– Mora says– says–” Dove scrambles into his lap, the patio chair squeaking under their combined weight. “Grass is fucking wet!”

The merry processions of friendship scratch to a halt. Steve stares at Dove in shock, unsure if he's hearing his baby girl correctly. You gawp from over Beth's shoulders where she's sitting in your lap.

Eddie bursts into laughter beside him, smacking his poker cards down onto the glass table as he leans in.

“No!” Steve says instinctively. “Don't say that! That's such a bad word, honey! No no no!”

Dove is clearly torn between the two loudest reactions. She loses all regrets when you giggle. “What?” she asks, giggling in similar fashion.

“Baby, you can't say that,” you say through laughter, almost knocking over Beth's cup of juice as you sit forward. “That's such a naughty word!”

“Would you quit laughing?” Steve says.

“Aunt Mora has a potty mouth,” Eddie says. Despite his infinite outburst, he swoops in to back Steve up, and Steve remembers why he likes him. “You can't say that.”

“Grass is fucking wet?” Dove asks. Fuck sounds a thousand shades of wrong in her mouth.

“Oh my gosh,” you laugh, hiding your face in Beth's back. She laughs with you, tickled by your breath on her shoulder blades.

Robin pauses in the patio door with a jug of juice in one hand and a plate of sandwiches in the other. “Did she just say what I think she said?”

“Babe, please don't say that. Just say that the grass is wet, okay? Don't repeat Aunt Mora.”

Robin looks down to the bottom of the garden where Mora and your eldest daughter, Avery, stand looking at the flowers in the dirt beds. “I told her not to swear in front of them, I promise, but she thinks that kids deserve all the same rights as adults, you know? She's passionate–”

“That's what I'm supposed to tell people when she starts at school? Sorry my daughter swears like a sailor, her hippie aunt is just super passionate?” Steve asks.

You laugh so hard you start coughing. Dove assumes you're laughing at her, and she says fuck a couple more times to make sure. You almost throw up. Steve gets so annoyed he has to eat his sandwich in silence, but then Dove says, "Daddy, you want to see the fucking wet grass?" (Grass like gwass) and he lets out a startled chuckle. It's difficult to be angry from then on.

And yet not impossible. Fucking Mora.

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gloomyhearts · 6 months

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Bundle of joy ~ Vivianne Miedema x f!Reader

Her sweet wife's expecting and her teammates being just like family.

Tw: Mention of vomit and a swear..

Wrapped in your coat only your eyes and scrunched nose looking out you sat behind the bench of her team; Viv organized you a bandage for the seat. When the team walks back to the locker room Katie and some other wave at you and as Vivianne makes her way past you she stops at the railing. “Look at you all freezing up, just wearing gloves, what are you hoping for,” you laughed and she rolls her eyes. Her hand reaching for yours intertwining them, “You okay?” She knitted her brows. “you’re quite passive just some jogs.”

“Yeah, yeah, someone kicked me against my shine.”

“Nasty.”

“You can say that loud. Are you alright?” her eyes wandering from yours down to your abdomen.

“I’m fine, we’re fine” her lips curl up and her dimple visualizes on her cheek. “You’re rocking it Anna,” you squeeze her hand, the goner laughed, and you showed how you have her finger crossed, she gives you another radiant smile before disappearing into the dugout.

When the game ends her eyes search for you on your designed seat. “You good Miedema?” her thick accent filling the air.

“Yeah just looking..”

“For Y/N? I think she left ten minutes ago.” The woman takes off as the words left katies mouth.

Banging on the several doors in the restroom she hears heavy breathing behind the last one. “Schatje,” she raises her hand and knocks hesitantly on the door, “can you let me in?”

“It’s open,” you mumble, and she slowly pushes the door open. “It hit out of the blue, couldn’t even watch the end.”

Her hand rubs over your back, her other holding your hair back, “it’s alright, it wasn’t even important.”

“Every game is important for me, seemingly not for her.” Your head rests in your hand as you take deep breaths in.

“She cannot quite understand it,” Viv lets out a chuckle and takes your cheek in her hand.

“Don’t, I stink.”

“So, do I.”

“You don’t wanna kiss me with all the vomit.”

“I’d always kiss you but if you don’t feel like it it’s okay.” She rises to her feet holding out a hand for you, “you wanna come into the changing room and wait for me?”

“I don’t know I’m not sure if the nausea is gone,” you take her hand, and she helps you on your feet.

“Good, small steps, okay? So how are we?” leading you out of the stall and towards the sinks, getting some water in her hands she attaches it to your skin, a prickling feeling runs through your body. “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m just standing.”

“Yeah, and that’s enough,” she places her hands on your tummy which is hid in your coat. “We’re almost done, only a few weeks.” She pecks your cheek, then the other and at last your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, my love,” you bring your arms around your neck and snuggle into the crock of her neck, the sweaty smell almost calming you. “I’m ready let’s get this done.”

She guides you into the changing room where you’re meet with cheers and shouting from her mates, Beth almost jumping you to the ground, Viv could catch the two of you before worse could happen. “I can’t believe only a few weeks,” she squeaks still jumping up and down. Two strong arms sling around your body as Katie pulls you into her embrace “Can’t leave before aunty Katie said hello,” she lowers her head to the bump, “Yo hello bud in there, it’s your favourite don’t upset your mommies they’re doing their best and beyond. Can’t wait until you’re here.”

“Oh, girls you’re so sweet,” tears built up in your eyes and your bottom lip trembles they’re taking the cue and hold you in their embrace until Vivianne is ready to go home. “Okay guys see you tomorrow,” she waves for them, and you both step out.

The first days back home with your little bundle of joy was everything besides joy, screaming, crying, vomiting, pooping, people who say it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy should rod in hell. Hectic that was your new normal. Don’t get this wrong the birth of your baby girl was next to your wedding day the best day in your life, Heleen is a sweet girl and looks just like her mom but then she got this cold in the first days being home, she gets fuzzy and screams almost the whole day, neither of you could keep an eye shut, your hearts breaking at her being sick.

After this bumpy start the three of you fell perfect into the family routine and life. The only thing that was a topic that you discussed with your wife was football. She paused training with the girls the first month of Heleen’s life, she needed to get back on the pitch, stay in form, train for her to be part of the squad but that wasn’t as important to her than her family.

“Viv, it’s been a month you can’t stay home and workout here.”

“Why so?

“We don’t have the capacitate nor the girls to push you. You miss them. I know,” you caresses her cheek as you step closer to her in the rocking chair. “They need you. We got this; you still have half of the day with us my love.”

“But what if I don’t want to leave you?”

“I don’t want it either but there are some things we can’t change. We’ll come around as much as we can,” you peck her cheek and rest your head on hers as your hands hold her face. “You’re not a bad person, it’s your job.”

Marking her tenth month she was the first time in the stadium with you, the noise cancelling headphones on her head as she cradles in your arm eyes sparkling as she observes her surroundings. “Quite lovely innit Hel?” you kiss her occipital. “Look there’s mommy,” you point towards your wife who walks behind Beth onto the pitch, she squeaks and jumps in your lap. Heleen fell asleep around the twentieth minutes.

Viv scored twice that day and sent you a heart each time. Your daughter wakes before them and sees them as well, so you think cause she somewhat claps her small hands together, making you giggle. When the games ends you moved closer to the pitch with your daughter tight pressed into your body.

“Look who’s there,” you turn her in your grip, “your favourite aunty.” Katie sees you and runs over to you almost crashing into some other player.

“Look at you, all proud of aunty to win,” she raises her hands towards you, and you hand your daughter to the other woman.

“But careful Katie,” one brow raised, and your pointing finger dared on her.

“You know me.”

“Yeah, the biggest argument.”

“Let’s get you to your mommy,” she coos and walks over to Viv who was wrapped in a conversation with Beth and Caitlin.

“Oh, who’s there!”

“Our biggest fan!”

“Hartendief,” Viv tickles her side, and she wiggles in Katie’s grip and then she takes her off her aunties arm and into her body. “I scored for you have you seen that?” she whispers into her little ear, “I’m very happy you’re here.” She pecks her forehead and joins the conversation again, a smile plastered on her lips.

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johnpriceslamb · 4 months

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hi there! i really liked your arthur with a feminine gf fic and id love to see more like that! could i maybe request a fic with a cute girly reader who is a friend of mary-beths and when mary-beth brings her to camp she spots arthur and literally goes heart eyes for him🥺 maybe whenever shes visiting camp arthur always finds an excuse to go over and talk to them just so he can see her aww! and its so obvious to everyone in camp and they all tease them over how sweet on each other they are🥰

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

꒰ Arthur Morgan has his eyes on a certain hyper-feminine doll .꒱

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! Mary-Beth being a giant tease and a flirt to reader . hyper-feminine! reader . fem! reader . many pet names in use . awkward-written ending . quick luv stori . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . reader has a dada and a mama . 2.3k words

the sounds of pearl tipped necklaces rattling together and ribbon-laced dresses ruffled in the precious spring breeze, paired with soft giggles and a nervous coo.

A stifled babble escapes her lips,

“Am I um.. even allowed to be here?” [name] meekly stammers. She holds onto her friends hand, her floral patterned dress was hitched slightly over her knees with her other hand, in reluctancy in which; to get her newly bought dress dirty from the ground they treaded upon.

She’s heard of people trespassing their gangs property, and much to her dismay— she may end up as dead as roadkill. A small shiver goes down [name]’s spine at the thought of that.

Mary-Beth had been wanting to show her a couple of her new books she’s bought in st. Denis— thus the excitement pouring from her aura as she drags her across the Van Der Linde’s property.

“Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head off. I’ll just tell em’ yer with me. What could possibly go wrong?” She pats her shoulder with a reassuring smile. A slight grimace etched amongst [name]’s face as her bow-tipped shoe is coated with a bit of mud when she took another quiet step.

[name] doesn’t look convinced at all. The grip on her hand grows a bit tighter which signified her nerves playing in. Mary-Beth always teased her for being such a worry-wart.

“..Um, well, a lot actually.” [name] prattles on.

Mary-Beth rolls her eyes.

“Hush, now.”

She does what she’s told. To shut up in a non sugar-coated manner. The aroma of many boiled meat and vegetables in a pot comes hitting her nose as soon as she enters the area. She can’t help the little nose crunch as the smell hits too abruptly for her to even know. She’s about to question Mary-beth what that smell was—

“Ah! Mr. Pearson’s cooking again.”

[name] doesn’t know wether to ask her whom this Pearson guy was, or to stay quiet. She chooses the latter. A slight tilt to her head as her ribbon-tipped hair slightly falls down her shoulder out of habit when she’s confused.

This camp was interesting, she thought. [name] could only hope that there aren’t much people. She shyly hide behind Mary-Beth’s figure as they treaded closer to her spot in camp.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Unfortunately for [name], there was a certain amount of people that made her feel uncomfortable. She resists the urge to complain, biting her tongue to keep the words in. However, there were a few she’s met that she can’t help but admire. Karen and Tilly, their names were. Sweet girls they were, she deemed.

She sat upon a small patch of grass, her hands fiddling with a few strands of the everlasting green out of boredom, listening to Mary’s voice as she spoke.

In Mary-Beth’s hand adorns a romance-genre book, she’s reading the lines out loud. [name]’s cheeks become a darker hue at a certain line she verbally says— resulting to the both of them quietly giddily giggling.

“I cannot believe he’d actually do that to her,” Mary-beth comments as she fawns over the characters. [name] eagerly crawls towards her, re-reading the line she’s just read out.

“I thought he liked Sarah though?” [name] squeaked.

“Same!” Mary was far too happy to be able to share her love for books with another. She ends herself with a soft sigh, “I reckon he’ll leave her in a span of a click.”

“Mary?”

“Mhm?”

“Who.. Who’s that?”

This gets the girls attention. She quirks a brow, looking at the direction of [name]’s lithe finger. It’s not easy to hold back a smirk curling onto her lips.

“You pointin’ to that cowpoke over there?” Mary grins.

[name]’s doe eyes were practically planted with hearts, and she’s stammering like a tiny lamb, “I—I um.. uh.. I was just..”

“He was just starin’ at me, so I um.. nevermind—”

She cuts her off, “—His names Arthur,” Mary teases the sweetheart, “Lookit chu’!”

[name] could only shrink, “I.. shut up would you?”

“Whenever you swear it’s like looking at a yapping puppy.”

[name] fully turns around, the back of her head facing the burly cowpoke whom curiously stares at the pair of girls from afar.

“‘shut up’ is not a swear word, Mary-Beth!”

“Is so!” Mary-Beth argues back. She doesn’t mention the fact that Arthur’s slowly creeping up from behind.

“Shut up doesn’t have any implications of vulgar words now does it?” She puffs out her cheeks. Mary-beth can’t suppress the small smirk planted on her freckled face. The man stalks towards them closer, in a lazy manner.

“It so does! It’s considered rude and disrespectful— which is quite literally the definition of a curse word.” Closer.

“Mhm, even so it all really depends on context—” Closer.

“—Now how ‘bout you just caaalm down, sweetheart?” She drags the ‘a’ in calm to further on annoy her. Mary-Beth teases the dolled-up sweetheart, playing with her ribbons by twirling it around her finger.

[name] broods, huffing as she quiets down and crosses her arms like an itty-bitty brat. Goodness was she cute! Mary giggles.

Suddenly, the freckled-face darling stands up from her spot, eliciting a tiny ‘where you going?’ from [name].

“Just gonna get another book! I’ll be back in a second.” She cheekily trots away.

[name] could only tilt her head at her unusual behaviour.

Only for her to freeze up immediately at a quiet rumble of a man’s voice from behind—

“Mary-Beth’s been botherin’ you, I assume?”

[name] shyly turns her head around— wispy lashes fluttering as she stands up awkwardly to match his height— barely even. A whole foot taller than she was.

She fiddles with her fingers, before quietly nodding. It’s obvious to Arthur that she was a shy little thing. So with that information, he’s gentle in his approach, his tone is more softer.

“Got a name, little missy?” He asks. Oh, his voice.

“[name],” she shyly babbles. He was certainly NOT bad looking. She’s so, so so shy. “And you are..?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

Despite already knowing his name, she can’t help but admire how his southern drawl drags.

“‘s nice to meet you, mister Morgan,” She meekly says.

“Just Arthur.”

“Oh- sorry.” She stammers.

Arthur can’t help the lazy grin on his face.

“No need to be sorry,” He hums. “Mary-Beth’s friend?”

“Best friend,” She corrects him with a tiny smile.

“Ah.” Despite the silence that continued on, it was somehow comforting around them. Guess his dim tone and sweet intentions made her feel like a comforted little bunny snuggled inside a warm burberry blanket.

Arthur’s eyes size her up and down. He doesn’t comment her shyness, rather her appearance. It was like looking at a live porcelain doll.

He can’t help but question, “You from Saint Denis, lil’ - missy?”

That pet name makes her shy.

“Mhm,” She fully looks at him. She has to tilt her head just to look at him. Her hands were behind her back, and she rocks on her platforms.

“Mm.. Figured.”

“Oh? How so?” She curiously quirks a brow.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You look like a right tulip, missy.”

[name] almost lets out a soft giggle at his teasing. Her cheeks feel warmer, as do her nose and the tip of her dainty ears. A tulip?

“It’s the attire, is it not?” [name] leans back on the souls of her black bow platforms, tinkering those wispy lashes at him.

Gosh, what he’d do to just.. kiss those squishy cheeks of hers.

“Mhm. ‘S all frilly and.. so..” Arthur trails on. He mindlessly fiddles with the folded gossamer lines attached to her light pink dress. She allows him to, can’t help but also allow his scent to invade her nose— smoke and.. gunpowder. A large cry from her sweet vanilla scented perfume sprayed on her neck.

They’re both cut off by Mary-Beth strolling in with her other books. That cheeky, little smile she sent to Arthur makes a vein pop in [name]’s head, realising why she left so quickly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It was her second time visiting the camp-site.

From her previous experience, she figured that it wasn’t all that bad.. just ignore some folks.

[name] adorns a pink puff-sleeved ruffled dress with a simple pearl necklace— a bit similar to her previous outfit. From her giddy stance, it looked like she was waiting for Arthur, and not Mary-Beth.

Her smile even becomes brighter when she sees him nearby. And quite frankly, Mary-Beth has had enough of being answered with silence and shy eye-contact from afar. It was cute, yes, but it was becoming frustrating to bear.

“—And Johnathan allows her to wear his deceased wife’s ring! How absurd.” Mary-Beth squints her eyes at her response.

“Mhm,” [name] mindlessly hums, staring at Arthur.

“…He also ate a raw fish.” She tests.

“Mmm.”

“..He’s tap dancing.”

“That’s nice.”

She groans, poking the girl, “Are you even listening to what I’m saying right now?”

“Uhuh.” [name] unconsciously fiddles with the ends of her dress. She’s still staring at his direction. Doe eyes expand abnormally larger at the sight.

The girl in front of her droops. But pipes up again to get her attention.

“Arthur really likes flowers.”

That gets her attention. [name] immediately whips her pixie-sized head towards her with a tiny ‘ooh?’ Just the mere mention of his name makes her tummy flutter and giddy.

“You’re a real sucker for him ain’t ya?” Mary coos and giggles, nudging her small arm.

[name] shyly shrugs, “H—He’s nice m’kay? I can’t help it, I like nice guys..”

“To you,” She continues, “To you, he’s nice. To others he’s an absolute.. menace.”

“I’m thinking.. He has a real soft spot for ya,” She winks.

[name] could only scoff, “We’ve only met once, ‘Bethy.”

“He’s a real sucker for them frills and bows. He sees a pretty girl like you and he’s all lamb-like. Stumbly on the legs and stuttery on the mouth.” Mary teases, “And your one pretty girl, [name].”

“You think I’m pretty?” [name] sweetly swoons at her words.

“Darling, you’re quite literally the cutest girl i’ve ever met!”

“Marryyy…” [name] softly whines at her constant fawning, “You’re very pretty too, y’know.”

“Huuush,” Mary-Beth giggles and smooches her cheek. Sweet girls.

Suddenly, that cheeky little grin comes crawling onto her face. [name] tilts her head, weary and meek. She’s up to something.

“..Wh..what?”

“Your boyfriend’s behind you.”

“Boyfriend??? Now, what in the world are you—” [name] suddenly becomes quiet as she turns her head around and makes eye contact with Arthur. He gives a shy smile to both of the ladies, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be~” Mary-Beth stands up and cheekily skips away.

Silence surrounded the two.

“Hi, Arthur.” It was like looking at two teenagers in a puppy love.

“Hello, [name].”

Her heart speeds up. She shyly looks down at the ground, unsure of what to say. Despite this being their second time interacting, she can’t help the meekness flooding in her system.

“I’m startin’ to wonder if yer clothes are strictly pink-only.” He gestures to her short little dress.

She giggles softly, “I do have a few non-pink clothing y’know.” [name] is comfortable enough to peer at him through those damn wispy lashes. Puckered lips, cherubic-like cheeks, and those puppy eyes.

“I wouldn’t believe that,” He lets out a bent arm towards her for her to take gently and stand up. [name] does so, standing to her full height with her pixie-like hands holding onto his arm like an elderly couple.

“Mind a stroll?” He asks with a gentle, soft tone.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” She pipes up.

And there they went off.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[name] was getting ready.

This time, she wasn’t there to visit Mary-Beth. She was here to visit Arthur.

More so because of his request of her to come back soon. If she were to be a puppy, her tail would be wagging as quickly as the speed of light. She was giddy at his request.

This was… the umpteenth time they’ve interacted with each other. Quite literally, everyone knew they’d get together sooner or later.

She adorns a white, cotton-like ruffled dress with a simple heart shaped necklace. On her head, she wore a pretty little bonnet.

As she approaches the location, she can’t help the sweet smile on her face as she sees Arthur coming towards her direction again. His hair was simple— a bit neater than before and his usual black vest outfit, with no grime or dirt anywhere.

“Hi,” She waves giddily.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He allows her tiny hands to come and place themselves near his bicep. He bends his elbow a bit near his figure to allow her come closer to his stature. He makes a mental note to be more careful around her. The bonnet on her head catches his attention.

He murmurs a soft ‘cute..’ underneath his breath, as he leads her away to take a little stroll around a pretty little meadow.

“How was your day, hm?” He asks.

“Good,” She shyly replies, “Daddy’s doing okay now. He’s not as sick as he was a week ago.” His heart softens.

“Ah. That’s good.”

“How about you? How was your day?” She asks with a glimmer in her eyes.

“Decent at best.” He replies with a slight grunt, gently pushing her away from a small puddle he can see that’s formed on the ground. Doesn’t want her shoes to get messed up from the dew-dropped floor. He’s genuinely thinking of just picking her up.

“How’s yer ma and yer pa doing?”

“Good and good,” She happily smiles, very happy that he’s asking about her family. Her doe eyes light up at a pretty pink wild flower, a smirk etched on Arthur’s face as he sees that cute little expression of hers.

A soft ‘huh.’ escapes his lips, he stops suddenly. Arthur’s blue eyes sizes her up and down, only realising just now—“You’re not wearing pink.”

[name] looks up at him, itty-bitty smile, “Told you I don’t have just pink coloured clothing.”

He snorts at her answer, “Damn brat, you are.”

“Your brat.”

“Yeah. My brat.”

356 notes · View notes

kekaki-cupcakes · 5 months

Note

Hi luv! May I req for Leo falling for a mischievous (cat-like personality) demigo (maybe ares, idk) after she beats him while sparring so he continuously asks her to spar just to spend more time together (and maybe she knows it and just plays along, maybe tells him she’ll go on a date with him once he beats her?). Idk this was just an idea, thought I got. Do not feel pressured or anything obvs!

Heya this has been in my inbox for a while and I finally got a good idea lol cause I don't wanna be posting half assed WIP's. [this is also combined with a request for Leo Valdez x daughter of Athena reader I got a while ago btw]

Enjoy <3

love is stronger then everything [except Clarrise, of course] ---Leo V x Daughter of Athena reader

»»————-　★　————-««

Leo was a mastermind.

Like, obviously you were the daughter of Athena, but he was the one behind it all. He was just… so smart. It was unbelievable sometimes. Not to be big headed or anything, he was just the most intelligent person in the room.

Well, in this scenario, it wasn’t the room, it was the arena. And that’s about where his cunning brain cells decided to sit on the bench and do their nails with Piper.

He’d tell them off later, if he ever survived the sharp eyed sharp edged girl in front of him who was somehow holding a war axe made of solid imperial gold over her shoulder like it was nothing. The sight of your arms distracted him of his incoming death momentarily, but then you just had to open your mouth. “

“Valdez, are you gonna spar with me, or was the six step official challenge at breakfast with a disco ball and three tonnes of strawberries for nothing?”

“Four tonnes, actually,” he managed to squeak out, and then shifted his grip on the sword he’d borrowed from Jake, who’d only laughed in his face when Leo told him he’d challenged you.

Judging by the way you fiddled with your camp beads necklace and then swung the smooth golden axe stained with something remarkably similar to human blood, Jake was right. Leo gulped and stepped back, ready to scramble out of the way and clang his too big sword against the edges of the axe he only just realized were sharp enough to cut through bone.

You seemed to pity him as well, which Leo didn’t appreciate, but at least you gave him a few extra seconds to scramble out of the way.

A moment later there was sand in his eyes churned up by your sneakers, the ones with little green string snakes as laces. He vaguely remembered snakes being a symbol of Athena, only that thought was scrapped when he had to step back to avoid having his skull split in half.

Piper cheered sarcastically and passed Jason a leftover strawberry from this morning’s events.

You spun around and the axe made a crater in the sawdust covered ground. Leo turned and half heartedly swung his hammer at your shoulder, but you dipped back and knocked it out of his hands in less then a second, leaving him defenseless.

Leo launched himself backwards and felt his shoe skid on the ground, sawdust billowing up into his vision as gravity decided to ruin his day, and his dignity.

He was contemplating just falling asleep right then and there, when a gray sliver appeared in front of him. He had to cross his eyes to identify the metal poking his nose as the tip of your war axe. Leo just got comfy on the ground, resting his hands beneath his head as you glared.

Apparently you weren’t satisfied with the early defeat, gray eyes narrowed as you snapped. “What on Olympus was that, Valdez?”

“Me fighting?” He asked hopefully, squinting up as the sun angled itself behind you. He brushed away the thought that it made you look a bit like an angel, despite the frown on your face and the weapon at his throat.

“Well you aren’t any good at it, so don’t bother,” you said, hooking the axe over your shoulder and marching off. “I have to go help Beth with the capture the flag plans.”

Leo huffed, blowing a strand of his curly brown hair out of his face and grinning up at the roof, which swirled a little. He might’ve bumped his head a little too hard, now that he thought about it.

Then another face swam in front of him and Piper popped a bubble that smelt vaguely of grapes. She looked towards where you’d disappeared out the arena’s swinging double doors. “What in the ever loving fucknuggets was that, Valdez?”

“I liked their version better,” Leo grumbled, and sat up slowly, feeling his bones groan internally at him. “And it’s not my fault their fit. And strong. ANd have a huge weapon. And pretty eyes. And-”

“And a nice ass?”

“Yep, especially in those camo pan- why are you looking at their ass?” Leo asked suspiciously. Taking a hand from Piper to get up properly. He stretched his arms above his head and tried to stop thinking about your butt. It didn’t really work very well, and then his thoughts skipped along to your thighs and the really cool scar along one and he missed half of what Jason was saying in between the smile he was trying to hide.

That didn’t matter very much though, because Leo was struck with the best idea in the history of children born of the literal ideas god. Well, maybe that was Athena, not Hephestus, but your parents were a problem for later. Way later. Like when you’d decided Leo was more than just a rock stuck in your shoe.

That was something he could work on though.

He just had to impress you so much that you’d agree to go out with him. Building something cool would be the immediate option, but he built cool things everyday. It wasn’t easy, per-say, but it wasn’t a date-worthy achievement.

Piper snapped her fingers in front of his face and Leo jerked his head back, “huh? Sorry I was just thinking…”

“About what? Finally giving up on-”

“Imma single handedly win capture the flag!”

»»————-　★　————-««

You handed out the last of the helmets, blue plumes dotting the crowd of demigods jostling around and yelling about lice and how their butterfly clips wouldn’t fit underneath the bronze.

You chose to ignore those ones and turned back to the little canvas tent someone had dragged out from Bunker 9 to set up base in, even though it couldn’t be used during the actual game. You weren’t actually sure what the point of it was, but Clarrise deemed it necessary, and you decided not to argue with her, in the interest of living.

The Athena cabin had managed to swoop in and ally with the Ares cabin before Connor got there, so you managed to rein in the help of Butch and his siblings [which meant that the Red team would have quite a few problems involving pegasi droppings in the hours to come], the two twins of Nike, the Dionysus and Hebe kids, as well as the smattering of Aphrodite kids that were ready to get blood under their perfectly done nails. A few of them seemed too happy about that prospect, but Drew had heart shaped arrows and Charmspeak, so you ignored the fact Lacey was singing about chopping off heads.

Annabeth propped her sneakers up on the table, smudging mud on the map of the forest as she did so, to tie up her laces. “So, we’ve got puddles of pegasi shit under the leaves, I asked Holly and Laurel who could make the most nets so we’ll have enough to trap most of the Hermes cabin under by the time we start, and then Clarrise and her lot can just heavily maim the rest.”

“Nice,” you noted, and pushed the coloured pins for each demigod wiping blue warpaint across their cheeks around the map to their places. “We’re against Will’s dickwits, so they’ll do that thing and keep the sun behind them to blind everyone on our team.”

Annabeth fiddled with her camp necklace and glared at the map. “ And what are we supposed to do to counter that? Ask Apollo to take the day off??

“Start handing out sunglasses.”

Someone dragged a bucking gray pegasi through the opening to the canvas tent and chaos broke out, Butch yelling orders at a group of Dionysus kids who began feeding the freaked out mare shiraz.

You turned away before you were lumped with the task of dealing with them, and reached for your axe. A sticky note fell off, the yellow paper floating to the ground.

Hi hi so if i win capture the flag by myself then will you go out with me also i cant ask you this in person because jasons teaching me how to use a sword and im about to run out of sticky note and now ive forgotten what i was trying to say

The note ended there, and you frowned, trying to ignore the twitch at your lips when you turned the greasy crinkled paper over.

right yeah this is leo by the way you probably already figured that out cause no one else is smart enough to beat all of camp to go out with you the flying horse distraction was my idea too by the way im a genius you should definitely go out with me okay now im out of pa

“Who’s the person?”

You nearly decapitated Drew in that moment. You lowered your axe and shoved the note in the back of your pocket that you only just remembered wasn’t there, courtesy of the armor you’d donned. “What are you talking about?”

“The love note,” she insisted with a curious smirk, lipgloss shining. “They sounded pretty excited and now you’re making that face oh my god you actually like them back!”

“Do not!” You snapped back, tightening your shoulder guard and hefting your bloodied axe over you shoulder. The pegasi was led out of the tent as you shooed Drew in the same direction. “Now go back to your station, we’re starting in five.”

She squinted at you for a second, then her eyes widened as he jaw dropped. “Leo!”

You blinked, wrinkling your nose. “Okay how did you even-”

“Seeya later!” Drew called over her shoulder, skipping away with Butch to find her section of the woods to patrol, her assigned heart shaped sunglasses slipping down her nose.

You narrowed your eyes at her retreating figure, but then one of Clarisse's sisters was wondering if the no killing rule had changed in the last four minutes and you were promptly distracted.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Why don’t you just run along there and turn Travis into a toddler for me?” You asked a son of Hebe who nodded solemnly and disappeared into the trees. Light dappled the leaves on the ground and once you’d ordered around the rest of the soldiers in training, the bellowing horn sounded.

A tense silence filled the woods, no one daring to make the first move and startle the spies out of their trees and the runners from their starting places. You pushed the cat eyed sunglasses up your nose and adjusted your sweaty grip on the axe, which must have weighed as much as the Hebe boy you’d just sent on his way.

Blue streaked the sky behind the clouds, but the blue you were concerned about fluttered peacefully in the wind from where the flag had been nestled in Zeus’s fist.

From what you’d planned, the Nike twins should be hiding in the two pine trees in font of you that had grown on either side of the track you knew the red team would take, nets between them ready to trap the enemy. Drew was placed behind you with her bow and arrows, ready to take down anyone that made it past Holly and Laurel.

And if the lucky little fucker made it any further, you had your axe ready.

The rest of your team, save the Ares kids bordering the river, who were ready to maim but not kill, were causing a distraction that included a lot of grapevines and a reenactment of the Hamilton Musical [the second half was to be acted out at the campfire later that night]. It was sure to distract the Apollo cabin while Annabeth donned her blue Yankees hat and snuck through.

The only way it could go wrong at this point, is if a certain fluffy haired pointy eared son of Hephestus went through with his sticky note proposition and burned down the entire woods.

Considering the fact he’d challenged you to a duel four times this week, you wouldn’t be surprised. Not that you minded. His concentrating face was sort of cute, especially when he stuck his tongue out a little and that time you’d pinned him to the sawdust covered ground you’d realized he actually had a few little freckles along his nose.

And he really liked strawberries. That you could admire.

Okay, maybe you looked forward to whatever proposition he’d set up at breakfast each day, but it mainly had to do with the presents. And definitely not that grin he’d get when you agreed.

If he won this game of capture the flag, which was impossible for one demigod anyway, and you did go out with him, you’d get to see that smile times one thousand. It sort of made you want him to win.

Then you shook the thought from your helmet cladden head. Your team was going to win this, and you’d stab Leo yourself to do so.

Lightly, though.

He still had that crackly laugh you could place from across the dining pavilion, you couldn’t kill him. It made your brain melt for a moment, which wasn’t something a daughter of Athena needed. But, he was a certified genius. Maybe that would even it out.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Where the fuck is Drew?” You yelled into the forest around you, but only the crickets and startled squawking birds answered. Metal clanged and the crickets were silenced when your Axe thudded against a tree, handle first.

Austin smirked, and his bow knocked into your shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise you could already feel forming.

You ducked another blow and stumbled back, stumbling a tight ring around the sun of Apollo to get back to your weapon, glancing around the clearing as you did so. Holly and Laurel were nowhere to be seen, and there were certainly no nets to help you out in the one on one ambush.

You’d been waiting around for some action when suddenly there was a lot but still not enough, because apparently everyone on the blue team had decided they’d rather fall asleep in their stations than help you. Even without them you could hold up your own, grabbing your axe and swinging it around at Austin when he came back for seconds. The arrow in his hand seemed less scary once his bow was in two splintered pieces at your feet.

He stepped back, face falling, and the daisies crushed underfoot sprung back into their slightly crumpled places when he backed away properly, turning to where the blue flag was still untouched on the top of Zeus’s fist.

You paused, lowering the axe in confusion once he called out to nothing, “Oi! Move it loverboy, I’m running out of time!”

Then you froze, because of course somehow, against all odds, a panting Leo was clambering up the highest point with the red flag in one tightly closed hand and a second later he was holding the blue one above his head victoriously as well, a stupidly wide grin on his cute face.

He let out a yelp as pebbles began to slide around his feet but then you couldn’t see him anymore, pushed to the back of the crowd by a stampede of yelling demigods brandishing weapons.

It took you a second to realize they were cheers and not war cries [the difference was hard to make out most of the time], so you weaved through some Hermes kids who were chatting animatedly and a Demeter girl with a stump where her arm had been. Will rushed along behind you to her side once you’d gotten past both teams of the now over capture the flag game.

“What the fuck is this?” You yelled up at Leo, who sent you a double thumbs up and then began hopping down the pile of boulders, the flags now held with his crooked teeth.

You squinted up at him, watching his green army jacket get caught on an overhanging branch and then when he jumped down finally, you were there to cross your arms and glare at him.

“Sup?” he smirked, holding his hands behind his back and rocking on his feet. “Did you get my note?”

Apparently he guessed your answer through your facial expression and then held up the flags like an offering. You ignored a fatal sounding screech from an Aphrodite boy in the distance as Leo chewed his lip. “So…. I won!”

“And how, exactly?”

Leo glanced to the side, and you followed his gaze to a smirking daughter of Aphrodite, who’s hoop earrings shined with blood that definitely wasn’t hers, judging from Drew’s satisfied expression. He then pulled out another crumpled up sticky note from his jacket, which was stained with something dark. He read out in a stilted tone, “I have to make a flamethrower, a chariot with poison shooting arrows, a two real life hoverboards, about thirty pairs of water, lava, and acid proof headphones, and a few jetpacks.”

“Right,” you muttered, tilting your head at Leo.

He blinked obliviously at you and tucked away his extensive list, probably not able to hear you speak over the yelling crowds that bustled around carrying bandages and broken weapons, already busying themselves with the aftermath of the set up blood-bath.

“It was worth it,” he shrugged, “but I’ll be stuck in bunker nine for the rest of the my life.”

“Maybe you can take a day off.” You unfolded your arms, resigned to the fact all of Camp Halfblood was about to witness this. Then you stepped forwards a little and leant in to whisper in his pointed ear. “...Y’know, for our date.”

Leo blinked.

“Someone get the Leo extinguisher!” A Hebe kid yelled, and there was a general uproar of chaos from everyone but you weren’t really paying attention because Leo had patted down his flaming torso quickly, only that didn’t change the color of his face back to normal.

He narrowed his eyes, but the grin had never faded and you could see his fingers tapping along his thighs a thousand miles an hour. “You serious?”

You nodded.

“DID YA HEAR THAT?” He yelled at the crowd of teenagers, cupping his mouth with a scarred hand, “I GOT A HOT DATE YALL!”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you muttered back, rolling your eyes, but when Leo smiled up at you you knew you’d never regret it, so instead you just smiled back, shoving your hands in your pockets while Piper started screaming from Jason’s shoulders.

Leo clapped his hands eagerly, “great, now you gotta carry me.”

“That’s cringe.”

“I’m being serious,” he said and held his arms up so you could grab him bridal style. You paused for a moment and then resigned yourself to the fact this might be the rest of your life. It wasn’t too bad, you realized, when Leo wrapped his arms around your neck and pointed in the direction of Will triumphantly. “Forward, sexy steed!”

“One, if you ever call me that again, I will literally throw you off a cliff, and two, why do we have to get to WIll?” You asked as you carried him through the crowd in the direction of the stressed out blonde anyway.

“Cause Clarrise stabbed me in exchange for letting me win.”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #Leo Valdez x child of Hermes #Leo Valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #but no use of y/n dont worry lol #inktober #autumn #spooky season #halloween #inktober fic #pjo fic

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hotchfiles · 23 days

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — five. harmless.

pairing: hotch x bau!reader. summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. or: fbi gala goes wrong. content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. no use of y/n. wet dream with lots of smut on this one btw. i will never proof read anything. word count: 2.3k

previously

hotch is at your door once more, perfectly dressed in his matching black suit and tie, dress shirt impeccably white. it’s tailor fitted to his body as he had recently started to do to all of his suits. you told him once before that it makes him look more mature, but the compliment came with lust in your eyes, that’s all he remembers now whenever he’s wearing them, even if both of you chose to ignore it at the time.

his cheeks flush bright pink when you open the door and his eyes glance down on you, dark blue dress–almost black. it hugs your body tight, your cleavage is more exposed than what he has seen in years. you gnaw lightly on your bottom lip, trying to contain a chuckle, a laugh. you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve seen him blush.

he can feel his cheeks betraying him, but his worries are somewhere else entirely, focusing on trying to clean his mind so the rest of his body wouldn’t fail him too, quite the complicated feat as he was reminded of the dream he had the night before, how sweaty he had woken up because of you.

the annoying squeaking of the bed should’ve been enough proof of the fact the sounds you two were making wouldn’t be concealed. it should be enough to get your senses back in line. it should be enough to remind you both where you were. in a hotel room, working on a case.

it wasn’t enough, not for hotch, not when you surrendered so easily to his touch, not when your hair was glued to your forehead making you look like a goddess, one he was more than eager to adore.

he kissed some of your moans away, delighted to be the one causing them from how deep he was slamming his cock in your wet wet wet cunt. wet for him. clit throbbing under his thumb. clenching around him enough to make him whimper in your ear.

his mind is too far gone, he doesn’t remember how it got to this point finally, but he’s too busy to care, his hands finally able to roam through your bare body with no inhibitions, griping hard on your flesh. there’s no place he would rather be, nothing else he would rather be doing. no one else he would rather have with him.

chatter begins to fill the room, but he’s the only one to notice it, the female voices shifting his focus while yours was still on him, nails sinking down on his strong shoulders.

“at least you’re not married to him.” he knows this voice, last time he heard it was in video tapes, frames of happier times, haley.

his body stiffs, you move against him, legs wrapped around his waist, hands grasping his ass and forcing him into you. he moans but looks around the room, trying to understand what’s happening.

why is he hearing haley’s voice?

“still, right in front of me? not a nice guy move.” and… beth?

beth. and haley. sitting on a couch? observing you two fucking.

his head drops in your shoulder, realization running him over like a truck, “this is a fucking nightmare.”

he’s hard when he wakes up, wet with his precum, dizzy and in need of release, he jerks himself off to thoughts of you, even if guilt shreds him apart, the sweat gluing his hair on his forehead as he imagines your lips and your mouth struggling to take him are stronger.

his plans for the night don’t change even then, it’s why he’s at your door.

it wasn’t a date after all. you were merely his plus one because your formal invitation got mixed up due to your transfer. it wasn’t a date. sure, you could easily go as any of the others’ plus one, and sure beth was in town and should’ve been his companion for the night.

but it wasn’t a date. even though the way your dress clinged to your body, the way he could smell your special occasions perfume and the smile you gave him made him wish it was.

“guess we might get a bigger budget for the bau.” you love when he’s flirty and you hate yourself for it, your heart skips a beat and you feel pathetic, the fact you’re not used to gala events and the heels you have on are way too new for your comfort makes it all that much worse. you take the hand he offers you either way, following him to his car.

maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself be coerced into going, “well we better, i don’t usually do the whole begging for money thing.” hotch laughs, and as always you’re reminded of how much you love that sound. how special it makes you feel to be the one able to genuinely make him laugh at the most innocuous of things. you grip hard into your bag as he opens the door for you, ever the gentleman.

you feel like flirting, the words dancing in your tongue, careful i might think this is a date. you don’t, too afraid of ruining it.

for a second you wonder if he’s still dating. maybe he’s single. maybe it’s finally your time.

but he keeps his hand far from your thigh in the car and his girlfriend’s name pops up in his phone while he’s setting maps up to help get you both at the damned gala. everything is different and still the very same. you yearn for him and hotch seemingly is always finding ways to run from what you could be.

the car ride after that is awfully awkward and it’s completely on you. he tries to spark conversation, and usually it wouldn’t be difficult to, you and hotch always talked easily, it came naturally to the both of you. but you felt as if your voice was trapped, the silver necklace on your neck doing nothing but suffocate you. the side glances his eyes served you felt like burning holes in your skin.

suddenly it’s 2005 and you’re a thirty something year old with a crush, feeling guilty for simply sharing a space with him. as if you would be divinely punished for your thoughts, your feelings, your light touch to his hand or the playful flirting.

you swallow it down, but the effort you’re making in trying to bury those feelings makes your replies to him come only in hums, nods of your head. hotch gives up trying and decides some music is the ideal to get through the awkwardness, and it isn’t on purpose, really, it just so happens that his 90’s playlist was the last thing he heard. the strong feminine vocals you know well make you laugh. loudly.

you’re still the one i run to, the one i belong to, the one i want for life

“the one time the white album would’ve saved lives and you’re listening to shania twain.”

“it’s a 90’s playlist, i didn’t handpick this, alright.” the lyrics should amp up the awkwardness, make it all even more uncomfortable. but it doesn’t. aaron’s laughing and you begin to sing along, as if the words didn’t mean anything, everything, to you and to him.

it makes the ride go from almost unbearable to fun, he sings with you to the best of his ability while still paying attention to the road and sooner than you both realize his phone buzzes in warning, you are at your destination.

“this is… huge.” you’re in true awe as you leave the car, now weirdly comfortable to have your arm in his as you enter the venue, you recognize most of the people there, but it’s rare you see them in the same place at once. “and that’s not fbi.” you whisper, head pointing to a congressman.

“you really don’t come to these a lot.” he whispers back right before shaking hands with said congressman, he doesn’t smile, but he is polite and introduces you. luckily the chat doesn’t go for very long. “these events happen so we play nice. then congress may just get us more budget instead of cutting it.” you roll your eyes at him, you know he doesn’t do politics so you’re not sure why he goes to these events. still, you get champagne as a waitress passes by you and you sit at the bau designed table where rossi and strauss already are.

“i heard from your past superior that you don’t usually attend these, i’m glad agent hotchner convinced you.” strauss barely waits for you to get comfortable at the table, you don’t understand why she asked about it and your expression probably spoke for itself. “seniority is important, show these politicians the years of fbi work, make them want to invest more in security, in the fbi and most importantly, in the bau.” you nod slowly, taking your champagne in a mouthful and leaving it at the table, you notice none of the younger members have arrived and it hits you that they probably won’t come.

you look over for a waiter to get more champagne and see the table assigned to your past unit and remember your unit chief, the cnu chief, begging you to attend the last “fbi fund raiser” and how quickly you denied him because you didn’t want to risk seeing hotch. your cheeks burn.

aaron notices, of course he does, and puts his hand on your thigh and it’s comforting, warm, familiar. “what’s on your mind?” his voice is low, only you can hear, especially with erin and dave flirting on the other side of the table. “champagne?” he asks again when you don’t respond, teasing your very light alcohol tolerance, you finally look up at him and realize how close you both actually are.

his hand still on your thigh. his body lowered down as yours looked up. it feels impossible but he moved in closer, lips almost touching yours, breath mixing with yours. hotch looks at your lips and you look into his eyes. “what are you doing?” your voice is barely a whisper, is lucky that he hears it, but he definitely feels the warmth of you speaking along with the sweet scent of champagne.

“nothing. this is… harmless. we are just… talking.” he’s not a liar. but he is a lawyer at his core. he is good with technicalities. technically you’re just talking. it’s certainly innocent if no lips are touching.

it could’ve been a minute or three hours but next thing you know there’s a slow song blasting through the speakers and hotch is taking you by the hand, smiling sheepishly like a teenager. you find yourself another champagne, which you gulp down before the waiter can even leave your side.

it’s all too easy, too familiar, his hands on your waist, your head laying on his chest as he leads. exactly like the last time you two danced, he had been waiting for a slow song to be this close, no repercussions, no questions asked. this way he doesn’t have to pick. he doesn’t have to choose.

of course by now you realize what he’s doing, the same pattern of behavior he did before, how he kept you close knowing he wouldn’t leave haley. except this time you couldn’t leave, you were demanded to be at the bau. you take a deep breath and move your hands to his chest, separating you two and trying to put some sense into your thoughts, the sense that his cologne had drawn out of you.

hotch tries to talk to you, ask you what’s wrong, but before he can do anything about it you’re headed back to the sitting area and without any manners you simply grab the first empty chair you find and place it around the cnu table, sitting together with your past unit so you wouldn’t deal with aaron for the rest of the night.

you have a fun rest of evening, talking, drinking maybe a tad much for a lightweight, getting teased by your ex coworkers about being a bau hotshot and smiling at any congressperson who appeared at the table, talking about the good work the cnu put at the fbi.

the night only took a turn when hotch came to tell you he was going home, “i see you’re having fun, a taxi might be better.” he sounds hurt but it’s still spiteful of him, you reply with a simple nod and hold in the tears you’ve been pretending you don’t want to let out for months already.

lucky for you, rossi watches the whole scene and takes your hand, making sure you don’t stumble on your own shoes–you’re very much drunk–as he leads you out of the venue and into his car. there, well, there you cry. you barely even noticed how strauss was near the whole time or how she’s in the passenger seat.

rossi is just glad he came driving, only one dose of scotch being his chosen drink for the whole night alongside some water and soda. if he wasn’t you would have to get a ride with someone else or a taxi home.

the way you were drunk and crying on the back of his car was annoying, sure, especially when he has a date he hopes to take home without the rest of the bau knowing, but he saw you as his kid almost, he had to at least take you home.

and even if you don’t remember. it isn’t the first time you drunkenly cry and speak of hotch to him. and it isn’t like hotch hasn’t done the same.

at this point it has happened so many times dave might as well do something about it.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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dozing-marshmallow · 7 months

Note

Pls i NEED more Chris McLean x reader. I NEED😭🙏 ive read everything of him on here😓

So pretty please something like chris mclean x wife reader and like, the whole tdi cast gets to meet her bc they didnt believe that Chris had a wife at first?😇

TRUST ME WHEN I SAY I feel the exact same way😫 I love Chris so much and it’s such a huge pleasure that I can write for him while having other people who love him enjoy it as welllll. I will be writing him for a very long time so you can always expect something new evolved around him to come up ;)<3

CHRIS MCLEAN X WIFE! READER HEADCANONS

Having your daily hug with Chris, the tender moment reminds you of what he told you earlier.

“Were you being serious when you told me the kids laughed at you when you told them you were married?"

“Mhmm.” he responds from underneath you,“They called it a sick joke and told me that stand up comedy was way in my league.”

“Aw darling.” you kiss his forehead,“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask a favour for me to stop by to prove them wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow,“What do you mean? Stand up comedy is in my pursuit. I just don’t prefer it, doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

He can be so silly sometimes,“I meant your marital status, baby.”

“Oh, yeah...” he holds onto your wrists,“Please?”

You let your body relax completely on top of his, still smiling,“Your wish is my command.”

“Aw what’s the matter, McLean? Couldn’t your wife make it?” Duncan was the first to pick up on ridiculing Chris, eyes still puffy from his chronic cries of laughter from last night. On another circumstance, Chris would’ve been fuming, had he not have reason to smirk.

“How sweet of you to worry, Duncan!” the host begins off, clasping his hands,“But she’s made it in one piece!”

On cue, you walk into the mess hall, linking your arm with Chris’,“Hii everyone! So happy to finally see you all in person!”

All conversation died.

Everyone turns to you.

This woman they’ve never seen before...

His... His wife?

Were they hearing that right?

No way... He was being serious?

Chris was rolling on the inside at the shared alike look of being slapped spread across the contestants, especially of the mocking kind.

“I...didn’t know you had enough space in your heart to love someone else!” Beth’s the first to break out of her ice of shock to chirp.

“Surprised?” Chris chuckled, allowing you to introduce yourself, which was not what you guys decided.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N)! This hot mess’ wife...” turns out improvising in front of teenagers wasn’t as fun as it sounded,“Sorry, I’m...not too good with words, so...help yourself to these cupcakes I made for you guys. I made them as a way to say how huge of a pleasure it is to meet you all!”

As you turn around to unwrap the trays, Leshawna clears her throat to privately address the cohort,"One of two things are gonna happen. One, those cupcakes are filled with maggots and hair. Or two, it's the first actual food we're gettin’ on this set."

Everybody nods in agreement.

They were right to inspect the wrapping and texture with their noses and eyes.

Yet didn’t expect to have the flavour of delicate buttermilk crumble on their tongues.

Oh my God...

Maybe they were deprived from having treats so long on the show, but it was unanimously categorised as a whole new delicious nonetheless.

The punk delinquent scoffs over,“Yeah... I’m not buying that’s his wife.”

“That evil maniac with a permanent smile is probably holding her hostage!” The ginger geek dramatically pinpoints.

“I can see why, these are too die for!” Owen squeaks, scoffing down an entire cupcake, wrapping included, not comprehending what situation it would mean for you if you really were abducted.

“Hm... Maybe he’s paying her.” Gwen suggests alternatively after taking another glance at you: it was your arm around him. Too touchy to be forced...

“I’d understand if he was hot like me, but he’s not even halfway there! Where would he find someone willing to do all that for him? No amount of money should convince anyone to ever lose their dignity for the likes of him." Justin criticises out of his internal debate of skipping the cupcakes or not.

“You’d be shocked if you’ve seen the fansite.” Noah opposes like it was the most known thing.

Speaking of which,"Sierra.” Heather directs, taking sudden control of the situation and everyone’s eyes to peel towards the superfan whose mouth was staining in the same dye as her magenta hair, perking up from her snacking at the mention of her name,“You know everything about everybody. Say, is Chris paying that woman to pretend to be married to him for laughs?"

The girl whose lifeline was Total Drama quickly swallows the last portion of her cupcake to appease her idols with a packed answer,“Oh, no! It’s all true! Unfortunately. Those two got married way before Total Drama was aired. A lot happened’s... My mom waited years for Chris to propose to her and there he goes, chasing after that nobody! Do you have any idea how painful it is to see my mom’s husband having an affair? (Y/N) is nothing but a block of concrete, blinding Chris from seeing his true soulmate! A.k.a my mom!” The last few sentences gradually grazed with personal prejudice, but not enough to throw the next cupcake away.

“Wait, but if Chris did get married to your mother... Wouldn’t that make you his stepdaughter-?“ Alejandro posited, already having a hard time imagining Chris take that role biologically.

"So Chris,” Cody interrupts the impending awkward ambient Alejandro’s phrasing would bring, steering the conversation back, still bewildered,“...really does have a wife."

Bridgette takes her slo mo time in grabbing another frosted vanilla good, rethinking, the same man that laughed at their pain,"I...honestly don't know how to feel about that."

"Huuu... I feel like I went overboard with cupcakes, Chris!” you freak out to your husband, fidgeting with the sleeves of your turtleneck,“Why did I pick to make something so childish? I should've picked something more formal... Like a dish from my home country..."

"Relaaaaax, no one else is thinking about that." Chris assured, biting into one of your delicacies.

You continued to murmur on,“I wanted to make something universal, a collection of sweets so in case one likes a certain flavour more than others... I thought teenagers around here liked cupcakes... I feel like such a fool... I hope they don’t think I see them as childish...”

He grabs one and holds it horizontally to your lips, painting them yellow,“It’s not just teenagers that like them, (Y/N). Besides, they are children. Children like things that are childish.”

That’s true... Your paranoia’s sunk,“Well... They seem to be enjoying themselves. I’ve been worrying for nothing.” you smile, drawing your finger on his stubble to take for licking,“You had some icing there.”

Turns out, you were really nice.

The angel to Chris’ devil.

The sun to Chris' moon.

The calm to Chris’ energetic.

“So (Y/N)... I just...have a quick question on behalf of everyone else.” The CIT girl shields her mouth with her hand, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Of course, Courtney. Whatever would you like to know?” you welcome her, all kinds of possible questions cloud your mind.

She tightens your shoulders in her palms,“What the hell do you see in Chris?”

...You expected that one,“Why, I see a strong, handsome, hilarious man. A goal-driven, deep down caring, loving, in need of love man.”

Now the only true thing she heard was “goal-driven”- to kill them as spiritually as possible. Maybe even physically.

"You're not brainwashed, are you?" Her eyes widened like your answer had tossed her deeper in her horror.

"Get her to blink two times in a row if she needs help!" Tyler shouts, unintentionally defeating the purpose of being discreet from his clean intention.

"Hm?” Teenagers are so funny!,“It's not brainwash when it's love! After all, wouldn't you say you've found yourself in love with someone you never thought you'd be with?" You smile warmly at the type A when the butterflies fluttered an external reaction across her freckled face.

"Th-That's different!” she impulsively shrieked before closing her mouth in embarrassment. She looks around, and after making sure no one was judging her, she continues speaking, back to her whispering voice,“That’s Duncan. This is Chris.”

“Well, we both seem to have a type for the ones that went to jail, don’t we?” you wittily mention, giving her a wink to the similar parallel.

Leaving Courtney to her common dynamics contemplation, there was no better timing for Owen to ask if you had any more cupcakes to give.

“I’m so happy you liked them! I’ll tell you what, I can make more and send them to you."

“Don’t get too flattered. Bed crusher there would eat anything, even things you can’t call food.” The overruling antagonist scornfully gestures, her hair as black as her heart.

“...Ah, right.” you shouldn't have thought so highly of yourself over baking. To Owen, they probably weren’t good, just something to give his appetite.

“Well... That's not entirely true...” The foodie looks to the side uncomfortably for a moment from Heather’s harsh perspective,“Having eaten a lot of things gives me a solid judgement on a variety of tastes. With that said, I’d specifically be really happy to eat (Y/N)’s baked cupcakes again. You can't buy that kind of quality!"

Aw! “Thanks, Owen!” it’s no mystery why everyone was in his support back first season!

“You didn’t use any store bought cake mix, did you?” DJ asks, his naturally kind pitch of voice crunching up an otherwise accusing delivery his words may have played.

“Nope! If I was gonna have half of the ingredients already done for me, I may as well have just ordered the finish product.” the truth radiates through your magnetism, not as magnetizing as your husband, smothering you away in his arms.

For some reason, no one said anything right away. Like taking an exam, silence had scattered among these group of teenagers.

"I'm convinced she has Stockholm syndrome."

Up till Harold breaks it.

"Stockholm syndrome?! Come onn, you know that’s not a real thing!” Lindsay asserted, turning to Beth,“Is it a real thing?"

The nice-hearted nerd smacks a hand to her forehead. Rather than finding humor in uninformed Lindsay, Trent finds his eyes trapped on the sight of Chris’ hand holding onto yours, fingers locked, palms resting. Above all his faults, Chris...still had you.

That kind of love...hard to find, lucky to have.

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 8 months

Text

The Battle of Starcourt Mall

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 6.8K

warnings: cursing, blood. think that’s it…

summary: the final boss level

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

so what i’ve decided to do is stop this chapter after the fire and since the last like ten minute take place three months later i’ve decided to use that for my in betweens. kinda weird ik BUT THIS IS MY FIC I DO AS I PLEASE!!!!

@alecmores 🫶🏻 the best proofreader

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter next chapter

It was a scene from a horror movie.

Tears of blood dripped from El’s nose as she continued her wails of pain, her screams filling the empty mall. Beneath the skin of her injured leg, something squirmed restlessly. It pushed at her flesh, trying to break to the surface and it was only making her cry and squeeze Mike’s hand tighter.

“What is that?” Erica leaned in for an inspection. “There’s something in there.” Was Mike’s simple answer.

El screamed higher, “No!” “Jesus Christ,” A mutter from Dustin’s lips.

Jonathan pushed off the floor and talked over El’s vocals, “Keep her talking. Keep her awake, okay?” And he ran off to the food court.

El’s chest was panting slower and her eyes blinked slowly a few times. Mike started to shake her shoulder, “Hey, hey, hey. Stay awake, stay awake.” He looked to Dustin for assistance, “Let’s get her on this side, on this side.”

Nancy and Steve rushed to aid their help, El now leaning her back on Mike’s chest. “You know, it’s not actually that bad,” Robin spoke for the first time after five minutes, a new record for her. “There was a… The goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and the bone came out of her knee. Six inches or something, it was insane.” Everyone’s eyes were on her, wondering why she was telling this story.

“Robin,” Steve called her. “Yeah?” She breathly exhaled as she looked at him. “You’re not helping.” “I’m sorry.”

You looked up when Jonathan came rushing back, his sneakers squeaking on the polished tiles. He held a kitchen knife and a wooden spoon in his left hand. “Okay. Alright, El?” A courtesy question. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

Her sobs shook her petite frame, “Okay,” Wrapped in snot and tears.

“Need you to stay real still.” He used the calm adult voice that he pulled on you and Will if either of you got hurt. He slipped flimsy prep gloves on his dormant hand. “Here, you’re gonna want to bite down on this okay?” Passing the spoon into Mike’s outstretched hand and he placed it between her teeth as she bit hard.

Jonathan held the knife and lowered it slowly to the wound. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” Dustin repeated as Jonathan sank the sharp point into her infected wound. Her screams were still loud even with her mouth muffled.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Talking to yourself with sweaty hands holding the queasiness inside. Steve’s larger stature blocked the gruesome sight from your tired eyes. A hand pushing your face into his chest. The noises, El’s screams, and sobs mixed with everyone’s gasps or whines echoed in your eardrums. You couldn’t see what was happening after the cut was made, but it wasn’t any better. Nancy screamed Jonathan’s name and he yelled back, “Stop talking! God damn it!”

Then El’s cracked and tired voice, “No! Stop it!” Grunts followed with a whimper, “I can do it.”

You moved your head when everything grew silent. You were still tucked into Steve as you watched El sit up and stretched out her right arm over the bleeding wound. Her arm shook from all the energy that was being spent from her, all eyes watching as she hurt herself. Her screams grew in volume as the unknown was wiggling away from her telepathic grasp. They grew loud in frustration that the lights flickered and the glass from Levi’s display shattered to pieces, Steve turned your body away from the specks.

With some more steam power, El was able to grip the unknown and tug it out of her body. It was a small thing, almost looking like charred flesh as she held it in front of her face. With a grunt she threw it a foot away, all of you just watching as it slowly crawled further away. No one made a move to finish the job as you were all stunned when Hopper stomped a giant black boot hard into the creature.

And there stood an odd trio. Joyce, Hopper, and some bushy-bearded balding man (who was dressed in some short shorts) you didn’t know.

Only took one minute max before your brain kicked into gear. You untangled yourself from Steve’s protective hold and took one, two, three hesitant steps as you croaked, “Mom?” She moved away from the taller men and you rushed forward into her open arms. You almost knocked her over with the force of missing her touch and gentle pets.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She shushed you and held you tight. Salty tears webbed your lashes together and marked her flannel top. You almost worried she was a mirage, a figment of your tired and bruised brain to keep you calm in a stressful moment. But she was real, you could tell by the way she held you tighter and tucked her face into your neck.

“I’ve missed you.” A whispered confession. “I’ve missed you too, honey. I’ve missed you too.”

Her hands grabbed your upper arms and pulled you away, motherly touches pushed loose hair and flyaways. Her palms cupped your cheeks like you were fine china as she examined your Russian party gifts. “What happened to my beautiful girl?

Your bottom lip wobbled as you joked, “Russian bullies. It’s been a long day, Mom.” Her open brown eyes started to gloss over with wet tears and you couldn’t have that. So you jumped to ask, “Where- Where have you been? And-” You looked over her shoulder to look at the unknown man beside Hopper, “-Who is that man?”

Her tangled curls swung with the motion of her head while peeking at the men and then back to you, “Oh, uh… Also Russian stuff.” You couldn't help the high raise of your mouth as you sputtered, “Wh-What? More Russians?”

“Uh…Why don’t we all go sit down? All of us and just go over everything.”

“The Mind Flayer built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, kill her, and pave a way into our world,” Mike spoke with his hands while giving the simple details of the events leading up to tonight for their group. Nancy also pitched in, “And it almost did. That was just one tiny piece of it.”

Everyone congregated by the turned-off fountain, standing in a circle. Hopper and El sat on the wooden bench beside the structure as he held a wet paper towel to her forehead and she sipped quietly on her straw. Joyce sat next to her as she rewrapped the wound closed. And even though you knew the time wasn’t right for couple displays, you couldn’t help but sink into Steve’s arms as he held you to his chest. His chin rested at the crown of your head as you held his hands in their infinity hold.

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asked. His eyes checked over El as Jonathan answered “It’s big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“Jesus,” You whispered just imagining something that huge. Probably takes up the whole space of the mall where you’re all talking. “It sorta destroyed your cabin,” Lucas tacked on. You heard the deep sigh from Hopper and Lucas’, “Sorry.”

“Okay, so, just to be clear,” Steve’s chest vibrated into your back with his talking, “This… This big fleshy spider thing that hurt El, it’s some kind of gigantic…weapon?” Your scalp tingles from the movement of his chin.

“Yes,” Nancy replied quickly. Her features turned a bit annoyed and you wanted to get defensive with her. But Steve continued to ask his question about this…fleshy monster. “But instead of, like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon… with melted people.”

“Yes, exactly.” Her permed hair hits her face. You felt Steve shrug his shoulders, “Yeah, okay. I- Yeah, I’m just making sure.” He tugged you even closer into his body. You gave his hands three squeezes.

“Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce questioned. “El beat the shit out of it,” Max pointed out, “But, yeah, it’s still alive.” Disappointed evident in her tone.

“But if we close the gate again-” “We cut the brain off from the body.” “And kill it. Theoretically.” Will, Max, then Lucas finished the single train of thought.

Everyone went quiet again. They were probably thinking of the next plan of action, the attack plan to bring the demon to the ground. You were just hearing white noise and staring blankly at all the different shoes as you tried to blanket Steve over you. You were so close to the end, you had to keep reminding yourself about that, it’ll be all over tonight and everything can go back to its relative normal.

A loud shout of, “Yoo-hoo!” Bounced in the empty space followed by paper rustling. Steve turned the both of you at an angle to see that the mystery man, Murray, was waving yellow papers in the air. He bypassed the group and stopped in front of the dining table as he slammed the papers down. He looked over his shoulder and frantically waved his arms while yelling, “Class! Over here! Over here!” And everyone internally groaned as you took the short trip.

You stuck near the back, Steve leaning over your shoulder as the both of you looked down at the lined paper to try and make sense of the drawing before your eyes.

“Okay, this is what Alexei called “the hub”.” You wanted to ask who this Alexei was but stayed quiet. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.” Murray slid his finger down the drawn path.

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper inquired. Murray took a moment before, “Right here.” Pointing at a different section on the paper map. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room, maybe fifty feet or so.” Dragging his pointer finger from end to end.

“More like five hundred.” Erica’s snarky voice stopped the adults as she walked toward them. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”

You noted the raise of Hopper’s brows at Erica’s tone and Murray vocally asked, “I’m sorry, who are you?” “Erica Sinclair. Who are you?” Sassying the bald man back. His expression was plain and simple as he said his first and last name.

“Listen, Mr. Bunman,” Purposely mispronounces his last name, “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down that shithole for twenty-four hours.” Turning away from Murray and directly looking into Hopper’s eyes, “And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.” Hopper’s brows scrunched in the middle.

You would say she’s exaggerating, but knowing what was down there, they didn’t know what they could be walking into. Their schematics were just based on one person’s view, not knowing the actual distance from room to room. So yeah, they would be in danger.

“I’m sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?” “Um, I’m ten, you bald bastard!”

“Erica!” Both you and Lucas called for her to stop. Shocked by all this language she most likely learned from the boys. “Just the facts!” Defending herself to her brother.

“She’s right.” Dustin stepped beside her, taking her side. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me. Sorry, may I?” Pointing at Murray’s paper. The man flashed a sarcastic smile and shook his head with a, “Please,” Tacked on.

Dustin and Erica took a seat at the table, Dustin grabbing a pen from his pocket and pointing at a square box. “Okay, see this room here? This is a storage facility.” He circled it. “There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.” He then took the pen and drew a line to the over end of the paper, “That will lead you to the base of the weapon.”

“Wait, sorry.” Suddenly speaking up, eyes on you. “Was this where the two of you went when we got taken?” Just needed clarification. “Duh,” Was Erica’s only answer. “Okay. Continue.” Stepping into Steve’s chest, his arms thrown over your stomach.

“It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way.” Full seriousness in Dustin’s words as the two nodded together.

“You can show us the way?” The tone of voice he used was a mix of confusion and amusement. Two kids acting all high and mighty with more information than the adults. Dustin held a hand towards Hop, “Don’t worry, you can do all the fighting and the dangerous hero shit, and we’ll just be your… navigators.”

One nod of his head before a simple, “No,” fell from his lips. And this was exactly the reason you wanted Hopper to know about this from the beginning. “Nope.” A second confirmation at the two before he walked away. You were so happy you didn’t have to be the adult in the situation anymore.

Everyone split up into their different groups until it was time to fully split up. You, Robin, and Steve walked to Hut Sam. All of you hopped onto the counter, Robin with her legs crossed as she held her ankles and leaned her head to the wall. You and Steve sat near the end with your legs mindlessly kicking the air, Steve’s left hand in your grasp as you played with his fingers, specifically his marriage finger.

“Hey,” The single word ghosted your ear. At normal speed, you moved your attention away from his rough hand and moved your eyes onto his damaged face. Your right hand moved to touch the side of the swollen eye, the pads of your fingers touching him as if he was fine china. One wrong move and he’ll break into millions of tiny pieces. “Oh, my Stevie.”

He moved his head quickly so he could plant a lingering kiss on the heel of your hand before fully leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry. Again. For this.” He slipped two fingers under the hem of your shorts, his thumb sat on the scratchy material.

“I forgive you.” At this point you truly do. It seemed no matter what you could have done, the horrors of Hawkins will always find a way to pull your group of family back into its pull. “I just… I just want you to listen to me. How I’m feeling when it comes to getting involved. Don’t disregard my feelings, you and I, along with everyone, have some sort of trauma they’ve taken from this. And you might hide it or joke about it, but you know I suffer because of it every day or night.”

Steve made sure he was looking directly into your eyes, his hand holding your thigh. “I know, I will. I got swept up in- in- I don’t even know. But if you need to, slap me, hit me, yell at me. Anything to make sure it gets through my thick skull, I don’t want to be the cause of your pain and sadness.”

Both of you sat in silence, hands touching any space of skin. You moved your hand from his cheek and used your thumb and index finger to hold Steve’s chin and pull him to you. It was a press of chapped lips before it moved to a slow dance that ended too short for comfort. Steve gave a quick peck before fully leaning away, a pleasant smile as he was bathed in the neon of pink and purple.

“Lovebirds!” Your heads snapped in the direction of the shout. Dustin waved a hand frantically and you both knew it meant there was a mission to be conducted. Steve moved first and grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. Dustin threw a set of keys that Steve was able to catch mid-air, “What’s this for?”

“Car out front,” Hopper stated. Dustin, Erica, and Robin were already heading in the direction of the front doors before the two of you caught up. You yelled, “See you later!” To everyone you were leaving behind.

Steve pushed the door open and then whistled, “Oh, man, now this… this is what I’m talkin’ about!” Excited about the open cruiser.

“Toddfather?” Robin questioned as the both of you spotted the license plate. You grimaced while walking to the passenger side. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.” He jumped into the driver's seat while you processed his words.

“Did you just talk about yourself in the third person?” “Did he just call himself daddy?” Robin and Erica are questioning your boy. You still needed to process the way Steve called himself daddy.

“Ew, gross. (Y/n), you better not be into that.” Robin whacked your shoulder from behind. You could only shake your head.

“All right, where are we going?” Steve turned the engine on. “Weathertop,” Dustin said over his shoulder. Steve turned in his seat, “Weather-what?”

“Just drive!” “Okay. Jesus!”

Steve threw his arm behind your seat and reversed the car before changing to drive and speeding out of the empty parking lot.

You weren’t sure how long the drives had been so far, but you know you’re far away from Starcourt now. The wind was wiping your sweaty hair into knots, smacking your eyes, and getting stuck in your mouth. Steve had a radio station turned to twenty, loud enough over the howling wind.

“Jesus, how far is this place, man?” Steve’s hands squeezed and loosened the leather steering wheel.

“Relax. We’re almost there.” Was Dustin’s only answer to Steve’s question. The older boy sighed and you noted the quick eye roll before he stepped hard down on the gas. Car going ninety in a sixty-five.

“Suzie must be pretty special, huh?” Robin shouted over the different sounds to talk to Dustin. “I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her?”

You turned in your seat, left side pressed to the leather so you could see everyone in the backseat. Robin is in the middle with the two kids on either side.

Dustin grinned at the mention of his Suzie. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.” And the sweet answer made you coo at the young ‘love’.

“She sounds made up to me,” Erica added her two cents. “Does she sound made up to you?” The words pointed at Steve then you.

“No, of course not!” Quickly saying your answer, even if you still weren’t one hundred percent. Steve stayed quiet as he looked your way and into the rearview mirror. As discreetly as you can, you backhanded his outer thigh.

“Why are you hesitating, Steve?” Dustin leaned forward. “I’m- I’m- I’m not! I’m not!” Shifting his hands, one on the wheel and the other in the air flinging about. “I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

He looked your way and you widened your eyes to silently communicate, “Really?” Your scrutinizing of Steve’s words was shut off when Dustin shouted, “Left. Turn left.”

“There’s not a road here.” Nothing but fields of grass. But Dustin was insisting, “Turn left now!”

“Jesus! Hang on!” Steve’s right hand held your thigh as he turned the wheel sharply on his left. Everyone was thrown from the quick force and then jolted from the bumpy road and the wired fence the car drove through.

“Whoa! Henderson, where are we going?!” “Up!”

The radio song was fitting with the lyrics syncing to the situation. The car was going up a steep hill and it was slow as it got higher.

“Oh, Jesus!” “We’re not gonna make it!” Robin yelled in your ear. Steve pressed the gas to the floor. “Yes, we are. Come on, baby. Come on, baby!” And if you weren’t stressed your mind would have gone to places from the last few days.

When the car reached the peak the engine strained under the gravity and dirt. Steve stomped the gas pedal multiple times, “Come on! Come on!” Grunted under his breath. The tires just screeched from the revving. “Guess the Toddfather had its limitations.” A mindless comment as you looked toward Steve. And sighed then shut the car off.

Everyone hopped out of the car and trucked up the last couple of feet. Your thighs burned and chested huffed, never one for the exercise of any sort…well only the fun kind.

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” Wasting your breath just to grumble your vendetta.

Two hands are pushed into your back to keep your feet moving forward. You already knew it was Steve but his comment, “Come on, baby. So close.” Cause shameless flutters in your lower stomach and you swore your knees almost collapsed.

“Sounds like you’re talking to the car…daddy.” A teasing grin painted your sweaty and flushed cheeks. You heard the scuff but knew Steve enjoyed it from the squeeze to your back.

“You guys are gross. There are children present. Me included.” Robin chided as she passed the both of you.

As you reached the tip top there stood the radio tower, Ceribro. Dustin sprites forward to grab the walkie. He held the side button down and called, “Bald Eagle, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?” He released the button and there was nothing, he repeated the call. “Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?” Steve quietly paced back and forth.

Just as Dustin was getting ready to repeat the code it crackled with “Yes, I copy.” You all chuckle with relief, everyone moving into a tight circle.

“Call sign?” Dustin asked. “Dude, you’re gonna annoy him.” Having noticed the tone of voice through the radio. But Dustin didn’t care and Murray called back with, “Bald Eagle.”

“Please repeat.” “Bald Eagle. This is Bald Eagle!” Murray shouted.

With a winning smile, “Copy that. Good to hear your voice, Bald Eagle. What’s your twenty?”

“We reached the vent. I’ll contact you when I need you. Until then, silence.” He must have been so happy about that.

“Roger that, Bald Eagle. This is Scoops Troop, going radio silent. Ten-Ten, over.” Steve patted Dustin’s shoulder as he stood up.

You walked to the side, separating just by a foot, lowering yourself to the ground. Pulling your knees up you wrapped your arms to hold them close as you plopped your forehead to your knees. You were so tired, mentally and physically. If you had the money you would look into people that you could talk to, vaguely, about everything. Maybe you could barge one from the government?

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, but you didn’t turn your head. You had a feeling it was Steve and he would know to give you a few minutes of quiet even if you wanted his presence.

You dropped your left hand into the grass, a silent gesture if he was paying attention. And he always was. A second later he slipped his hand under yours, palm to palm, and curled his fingers in. Neither of you said anything, not wanting to or needing to at this moment. Just enjoying each other, that was all you needed.

“We should do star gazing as a date night. What’d ya’ say?” Steve pulled your linked hands up and pressed three kisses to the back of your hand, two on your knuckles.

You turned your head, ear, and cheek pressed into the scraped skin of your knees. Steve leaned his head forward, hair flopping over his forehead and into his eyes. He didn’t bother pushing it away, he kept his loving gaze zeroed in on you. Wanting your opinion, a reaction, you weren’t sure, but you gave him both.

“Would you make it super romantic, lover boy?” Teasing smirk to your scratched and bloody features.

He rolled his eyes, “Duh. What kind of boyfriend do you take me as?” And it unintentionally felt like a loaded question. And you knew it was the aftermath of Nancy, he needed constant reassurance. Whether he made it obvious or not, you will always give it to him.

In an awkward shuffle, moving your knees and twisting your body, you now sat in front of Steve. You held your empty hand out and did a ‘give me’ motion and he happily dropped his other hand to you. Like he did earlier you kissed his knuckles, multiple times until you heard that sweet-deep chuckle. You love when you make him flustered.

“Steve Harrington,” A kiss to his index finger to punctuate his name, “You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever gotten. And! And I know what you’re gonna say, “You’ve never had a boyfriend”, first of all, that means nothing.” A kiss to his middle, “Second, and this might sound horrible if I can’t word this right, but… I’m happy Nancy got time with you first.”

His brows scrunched in the middle while he wore a small pout and he tilted his head like a lost puppy. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, that doesn’t- It’s not bad! Just doesn’t make the most sense?” He ducked his chin to his chest.

“Stevie…” You added a squeeze to his hands so he would look at you again. “You know how you were in high school. A total douchebag with only a sliver of gold in his heart.” And he didn’t disagree. He just bit into his bottom lip as you continued. “When you were with Nancy after the whole thing happened. It’s like… you bumped your head. Nudge in the right direction for your emotional growth.”

“There’s a joke in there that I want to make, but I won’t for your sake.” Lips curling to stop a stupid boyish smile at an inappropriate joke. You just sighed, “No. Go on, oh funny one. Say it aloud.” Also excited to hear it.

“You’re my nudge for emotional growth.” “Oh! That’s- That’s so horrible! Just bad.”

Your giggles mixed as you leaned toward each other. When they died off and you both went quiet you couldn’t help as you whispered, “All the girls you’ve been with have made you the one I love. I get to see the real Steve Harrington. Every crack and jewel.”

His eyes softened while the ends of his lips turned up, “Another joke. But…That was…I love you.” A declaration as he moved his lips onto yours.

A pretty good star gazing date as you thought to yourself while smiling into Steve’s pink lips.

“Mr. and Mrs. Byers, we have a problem!” Robin shouted into the night. You dove in for one more lightning kiss before Steve pulled the both of you up and back to your group and the tower.

“What’s the problem?” Seeing how Dustin and Erica were listening intensely to the quiet radio and Robin had her arms crossed while biting at her thumb.

“There’s an emergency.” Erica relaid, in a nervous tone. That didn’t bode well for you. “Who's in trouble?”

Loud cracking from the walkie stopped any answer from them and heard the shout of “Scoops Troop, do you copy? We require evacuation! We’re trapped! Help!” And the line went dead. Loud roaring was the last thing heard over the transmission.

The shouting of Mike’s voice over the crackling comm sent chills down your spine and blood rushing through your veins from the animalist yell. When you looked back to the horizon with your eyes set on Starcourt, the lights were flickering. Just like that November day back in nineteen eighty-three, when you faced the Demogorgan.

“We gotta help them. We gotta go!” Shouting to everyone and mostly to yourself to kick you into gear. Beat-up converse carried you down the steep hill, almost tripping over yourself. Forgetting you didn’t hold the keys to the car, you yelled for Steve as you threw yourself into the driver's seat.

“Woah, hey I can-“ “Steve, just give me the damn keys!”

He stood for a second before sitting in the passenger, Robin tagging along in the back. The engine roared to life as you hightailed it back towards Starcourt.

“Is that-” “Billy’s Camaro.”

The Toddfather was waiting on the far side of the parking lot. The Wheeler’s hatchback was stationed in front of the mall and Billy’s car wasn’t too far away, the headlights beaming into the night. He was revving the engine, smoke billowing from the exhaust. Nancy stood like a waiting soldier, her arms held high as she held a gun, her aim steady.

“I need you guys to hold tight,” A quick command before you stepped down on the gas just as Billy launched forward, straight to Nancy and everyone.

“(Y/n), I don’t think this is a good idea!” Robin’s shaky plea passed your ears. Knuckles turning white from your death grip, mentally preparing for the impact. Steve’s hand fell on your thigh and squeezed the flesh, his blunt nails digging into your skin. “Baby, this is a stupid plan! But I love you no matter what!”

“I love you too, Steve! No matter what!”

The nose of the cruiser crashed into the passenger side of the blue Camaro, the two spun out until you turned it to a stop with the wheel and brake. It was like a shot went off beside your ear, a loud ringing that drowned everything out. Your heart was beating out your chest, quick and swallow pants puffing from your lips.

“Is everyone okay?” Shakiness to each letter. From the whiplash, your neck ached as you slowly turned to face Steve. He too was panting from adrenaline with his eyes set forward, then he looked your way. He loosened the grip on your thigh, you didn’t even notice. “Please don’t ever drive again.” Joking to take away the severity of the moment, you just nodded in compliance.

“Robin? Alive?” “Ask me tomorrow?” A weak thumbs up to her question.

The moment of catching breaths was interrupted by the horrific roaring coming from the mall. All three of you pulled yourselves up and leaned forward for a better view. “Oh, shit!” Robin exclaimed at the giant fleshy monster that climbed on the roof of Starcourt. You wanted to vomit from all the different emotions running through you.

Honking from a car turned heads. Nancy leaned through the window and shouted, “Get in!” All of you hurried to the trunk, legs, and arms knocking into each other while being crammed into the small space. Steve, being the last one beside you, shouted for Jonathan to start driving.

With tires screeching on asphalt, you peeled out and back to the road. The monster followed, it was quick and slow in its steps, keeping you within sight but only a few steps behind even with the car going one hundred.

Your heart was beating in your ears as you kept your eyes locked on the flesh monster that was tailing the Wheeler wagon.

A loud static filled the car and then two voices followed. “Dusty-bun, do you copy?” “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.”

“Dusty-bun?” Steve couldn’t help but repeat the nickname that the very much real Suzie called him. And you couldn’t help but follow with, “Suzie-poo?”

“Okay, so, listen, do you Planck’s constant?” “Do you know the Earth orbits the sun?” And you heard Dustin snicker over the comm. It was cute, but not the right time.

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a… w-what is it?” “Okay, let me just be clear on this. I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can…save the world?” “Suzie-poo, I promise, I will make it up to you as soon as possible.”

There was a short lull and then she replied, “You can make it up to me now.” “What?” Dustin’s voice went serious. “I want to hear it.” And you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

You could hear the slight panic in Dustin’s voice as he spoke back, “Not right now.” “Yes, now, Dusty-bun.”

“Suzie-poo, this is urgent.” You were getting sick of the nicknames. You looked at Steve and Robin, “What do you think she’s asking him to do?”

Steve shrugged, “Probably something nerdy and gross mixed.” Robin didn’t as Suzie radioed back, “Yes, yes, you’re saving the world, I heard you the first time, but Ged is also saving Earthsea and he’s about to confront the shadow. So this is Suzie, signing off.” Very stubborn in getting her way.

Dustin hurried in, “Wait, wait, wait! Okay. Okay.” His end went silent for about thirty seconds and then- “Turn around. Look at what you see. In her face, the mirror of your dreams.”

“Am I concussed?” The abrupt question fell from your dry mouth. “Are they singing?” Needing to know you weren’t the only one hearing this.

Robin and Steve shared a look before dumbly nodding their heads. You looked to the front of the car and everyone was quiet. You couldn’t see their faces, only Will’ since he was turned at an angle and you saw the clear look of confusion painted over his features. You wonder if Hopper and Murray were hearing this musical number.

And the monster was still chasing the station wagon.

Suzie and Dustin sang in sync until the final note, Dustin ending off with a giggle. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

“You just saved the world.” “Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.” “And I miss you more Suzie-poo.”

“Ugh, gross. They sound just like you two. You’ve rubbed off on him, Harrington.” Robin groaned as her head hit the window.

Steve scuffed, “Me? Why just me? There are two of us in this relationship.” “Well, he is your best friend.” Teasing him with a smirk.

Steve shook his head and didn’t follow up with a comment, his eyes out the window then yelling to the group, “It’s turning around.”

“What?” Nancy and Jonathan look over their shoulders. “It’s turning around!” Steve repeated.

“Maybe we wore it out,” Lucas suggested. “I don't think so. Hold on.” And Jonathan wiped the wheel hard and headed back to the mall.

The car jolted to a stop. Every one climbed out and grabbed the boxes of fireworks from the roof, you led them to the back entrance and typed in the door code. A beeping noise prompted you to pull the handle and usher them inside.

“Okay, so the plan is to get to the second level, spread out, and start setting them off. Don’t stop for a second, just go.” Lucas huffed his idea to everyone.

By the time your group spread out, you with Robin and Steve to the far left, the mind flayer was in the middle of the mall. It’s looming figure looking down at Billy and El. The lights were flickering and flashing as it growled and groaned. There was a high-pitched hissed and a tentacle limb stretched forward.

Before it could reach El a firework was thrown and hit the monster in the back. You heard Lucas’ voice as he yelled, “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!” It prompted everyone to start setting them off and throwing bombs.

“Hey, asshole! Over here!” Steve yelled before throwing his lit cannon. It fell into the creature's mouth and exploded. You and Robin threw your fireworks one after the other.

If it wasn’t such a scary situation, the private display was beautiful. The different colors and shapes brighten the already colorful mall. The roars are mixed in with the high-pitched singing of explosive powders.

Your throwing arm started to wear out quickly but you had to push yourself through the soreness setting in. You couldn’t see what was happening down below and didn’t know if El was safe or still in danger and out of reach for help. But you had to push that away, you were helping her in this moment, distracting the monster from attacking her.

It felt like hours but must have only been thirty minutes or so before you were out of fireworks. You started to panic when less light and noise filled the space. “Last two!” You yelled as you flung your lit stick forward.

Steve grabbed the walkie and radioed to Dustin, “Dustin! We’re out of time!”

A few more fireworks went off and then they stopped. The only sound was your heavy panting in your ears filled with the monstrous roaring of the flayer.

“What do we do? What’d we do!” You yelled at Robin and Steve. They both pant with open mouths and just stared at you and then at the floor below.

As you looked down you could barely make out Billy standing in front of El, keeping her blocked from view. The monster screeched and roared then shot its mouth limb towards El, but Billy stood in the way and took the talons. Two more attached to his sides before several more limbs dug themselves into his body. You could hear his screams.

And the screams of Max as she watched her shitty step-brother die before her eyes.

Little flames flickered from tiny fires on the bottom level. Everything was static and quiet until the flesh monster started to roar even louder if possible. It started to thrash, its body slamming into your side of the railing making Steve pull you into him as the both of you with Robin fell to the floor.

With one final roar, it collapsed to the floor before the lights stabilized and the fire engulfed its skin. It was over. The battle was over and won.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, just breathe.” Steve whispered into your ear. You didn’t notice that you were shaking and breathing in shallow intervals, almost making you pass out. You clung to him tighter as you closed your eyes and inhaled his scent which was mixed with sweat and gunpowder.

With the quiet lull of silence followed multi and fast footsteps that carried voices shouting over each other. Steve pulled the both of you from the floor and looked over the bent railing with Robin at your side. Dozens of soldiers with guns raised caused your heart to spike, was it more Russians?

But when they started shouting commands in English you knew you were safe. Everyone was evacuated from the building and led to the ambulances waiting outside for all of you to get checked. You and Steve for sure needed it the most.

You waited beside Steve as the nurse was looking over his face and gave him some meds for pain. They walked away to check on the others leaving the two of you alone. Steve threw one side of his blanket over your shoulder and pulled you close.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He muttered into your hair. You wrapped your arms around his stomach and held him gently. “I love you too. Out of this world much.” You felt his body move with a laugh, “Not a competition…but I would win.” And you laughed but didn’t retort back.

Your eyes flitted to the chaos of moving bodies. Three different groups of workers dressed in uniforms mixed. In a small opening you saw Will running towards someone and when you saw who he ran into tears started to sting your eyes.

Again that night, you pulled away from Steve and took off running to your mom and younger brother. “Mom!” You screamed into the night air.

Her head looked up and a teary smile spread across her face. They both opened their arms and you slithered into their warm embrace. “You’re alive. You’re alive.” A quiet mantra to yourself, she just squeezed tighter.

With your eyes open and over Joyce’s shoulder you could see El walking around. By herself and looking everywhere with confusion and worry screaming out in her body language, you pulled away from Joyce so you could look into her eyes and ask, “Where’s Hopper?” And she could only close her eyes and tiny whimpers fell from her lips.

He didn’t make it. El was alone once again.

Reluctantly you released your mom and walked to El. She was twisting her hands together anxiously, head swiveling in different directions. And you knew the person she was looking for wasn’t coming back for her.

“El…” Just saying her name and trailing off. She sniffled while turning your way, her eyes watery and bloodshot. She bit into her bottom lip and you could tell she was trying not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart.” And she launched herself into your chest. Your arms take a second before holding her tight in your embrace. Her petite frame shook with rough cries and your skin tickled with the dropping tear drops falling from her eyes. You didn’t know what to say, you could only repeat, “Oh, sweetheart.”

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beth-bunkus · 8 months

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Tomorrow, I'm going to be doing something very, very difficult. Any and all prayers are appreciated. Thank you. ;;;;;

#text post #don't feel like getting into this [at least not in detail] on the main post. but.#my cat has been very very sick #and I decided that it's finally time to say goodbye ;;;;#I'm struggling to come to terms with it. I don't feel ready #I told my mom that I feel like I'm about to put a fist through a stained glass window #but it's not about what I want. it's about doing right by her.#and I love her too much to let her keep suffering the way she has been #please. please please. pray for her to pass peacefully #and for me as I carry this grief #Beth squeaks

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arthursfuckinghat · 2 months

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You see these mfs talking and you KNOW the gossip is going to be good

#the four gossip girls catching up over coffee at 7 am on the dot #the way they all stop talking when you go near them too its so fucking funny #what do you think they'd be gossiping about?#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #arthur morgan #charles smith #sean macguire #karen jones #mary beth gaskill

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mayfieldss · 1 year

Note

Hi love ur work if you have time may I request a childhood to lovers with jj like from when they’re little like elementary school to having kids together like a full circle moment

This is the perfect request, anon, ily.

Only a lifetime - JJ Maybank

Content Warnings; mentions of abuse, but mainly fluff.

"Before your change of heart, before it all got dark, we were two young fools, oh, kids in love." - Alecia Beth Moore

You'd known JJ Maybank since birth. The young blonde kid that insisted on holding your hand while crossing the street to get ice cream (to keep you safe, he would always say), and that begged you to go fishing with him even though the both of you were too young to understand anything about catching a fish, let alone casting a line. He was mischievous even then, with a gleam in his eye and a thirst for trouble that followed him wherever he intended to go.

"Hey, Y/N." He summoned you over to him, his voice still yet to develop into what it would later be, meaning that his words came like the squeak of a rather loud mouse. "Look what I found." JJ is holding what appears to be a set of keys, the keychain brown with rust. You don't know where he got them, but you doubt they found their way into his hands willingly.

"Whose are those?" Your voice sounds just as youthful as his, the sound of it something you'll both forget when you age.

JJ only shrugs, eyeing up the door to the elementary school just a few feet away. To think JJ would want to enter the school on the weekend astounds you, but it seems as though he does.

"What do they unlock?" You gesture to the keys, watching JJ carefully. He smiles wide, and one of his front teeth is missing.

"The back door to the school." He's a little devil, and he hopes that you're in on what he's got planned. You always are, usually. "Do you wanna go in and search for Ms Blounskies stash of colouring pencils?" His smile seems to grow wider at the mention of them, and though you're the more responsible of the two of you, you are still a kid. A kid with a fascination for colouring pencils at that. JJ knows this, and because he does, he knows you'll agree. And that's how, at the age of seven, you ended up in the principal’s office with JJ Maybank.

What you hadn't known at the time of your heist was that the janitor still worked on weekends, and it took mere minutes for the two of you to be caught searching through your teacher’s desk. You weren't particularly quiet about it, laughing and yelling complaints at each other until, eventually, you were found. And when your parents arrived to pick you up from school on Monday, they were not pleased. JJ's dad would do more than just scold him. You knew that much, and even back then, at such a young age, you felt the need to take the blame for the entirety of the crime. But JJ wouldn't let you, and even if he had, it wouldn't have done much good. The two of you were caught inside the school together, so whether you took the blame or not, JJ would still be an accomplice.

"What'd your mom say?" It's a week after the pencil incident when you see JJ again, and you try to ignore the harsh purple of the bruise on his forearm. You feel responsible for it, and somehow JJ can tell by the way your youthful eyes linger against his skin. JJ pulls his sleeve down instinctively and that makes you feel even worse. He shouldn't have to hide his pain to save you from guilt.

"She's mad." You finally let out a response and JJ nods, moving to sit on the grass next to you.

"Yeah, my dad is too." And then there's silence. Deafening but somehow peaceful, because you've never been uncomfortable around JJ, and you don't think you ever will be.

The first time you kissed JJ was on your seventeenth birthday. The day had gone slowly other than the few gifts and happy birthday comments from your friends and JJ had been going on and on about this big surprise he had planned, though with every word he said he came closer to spoiling it. He'd told you to meet him on the dock at seven thirty, and you'd done so without hesitation, expecting to see some silly little banner hung on the railing with JJ standing beside it. Instead, you came across something far more detailed. It was hard not to gasp at the sight of the Twinkie, parked on the dock, and covered with fairy lights. One of the side doors was open, a bunch of pillows and blankets situated inside, with a pizza box placed on top of it all. It was an oddly romantic setup from someone who was supposed to be your best friend, and yet as he approached, he seemed just the same as ever as if this changed nothing about your relationship.

"You want to go scare John B?" It's JJ who says it, and when you turn to look at him, he's pulling tufts of grass up from the ground. John B will be in the marsh with his dad around this time, and JJ always finds it funny to sneak up on the boy and his father. Big John doesn't mind and you're grateful for that, though you think he only lets it slide because you're both young and stupid. Still, you smile, and JJ knows the answer is yes.

"Happy birthday princess." JJ is steps away from you and when he finally closes the distance, you embrace him in one of the tightest hugs you think you've ever given anyone. You can't deny you've felt something more than friendship for the boy for a while, and this birthday surprise is only making you fall for him more, though you keep it well hidden. "I'm guessing you like it?" JJ mumbles against your hair whilst you squeeze him tight. You can feel the smile on his lips as he says it, his hands running up and down your back before you pull away.

"I love it, Jay. I love it so much." His smile only grows as you speak before he leads you over to the Twinkie, and you get your first close-up look at the scene he's set. It's similar to the forts you used to make as kids, though in a van instead of your bedroom, and the nostalgia of it all makes your heart ache with gratitude for the blonde-haired boy at your side.

"Ladies first." His voice is quiet, and he gestures for you to move inside, following suit when you do. It's prettier inside, and you notice there are fairy lights on the inner roof of the Twinkie as well, though you're not sure how JJ's done it.

"Would the birthday girl like some pizza?" He presents you with the pizza box as he settles beside you, watching you carefully as you pull one of the blankets over yourself. Quite frankly, the night is perfect, and when the pizza is finished and the conversation has gone quiet, you lay facing JJ, covered in the blankets he provided with your head on a pillow. JJ has done the same, and the way he's looking at you now is dangerous. He knows it, but somehow, he can't stop himself. He's in love with you, and as much as he tried to avoid the feeling, it kept coming back for more, fighting with double the strength every time you were around. He thinks he should tell you, but he'd be damned if he knew how.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Maybank?" You can read him like a book, and the more his thoughts drift the more you can see through him. Yet you still don't know how he feels.

"You're my best friend, right?" he sits up as he says it, leaning back against the wall of the Twinkie closest to him. He's fucking scared of what he's about to do, but God you're just so perfect for him and it's been driving him mad for years.

"Yeah, of course." You copy his movements, coming to lean against the side of the Twinkie beside him, completely destroying his intention of putting space between you so he didn't feel the urge to press his lips to yours.

"And I'm yours?" He's confusing you with these questions considering you thought he knew the answer to them. He does in fact know the answer, but he's trying to gauge your reaction, see if you could want more of him like he does you.

"Yes JJ, you're my best friend. Now what's going on?" You put your hand in his, intertwining your fingers like you've always done in moments like this and that just about kills him.

"Have you, like, ever thought about us?" He doesn't know what he's saying, and by the look on your face you don't either, but he can hardly get the words out as it is.

"Of course, I think about us, Jay. We've been together for years." Your body has shifted to face him now, your legs crossed in front of him like the little kids you once were. His heart is heavy with the thoughts of you.

"But, together as friends, right?" He's cautious with his words, and when you pull your hand away from his JJ can feel his walls climbing back up again, blocking you out piece by piece.

"Yeah, as friends." The night is completely silent, save for your voice and his, making it so much harder than it should be to speak to each other. JJ can't hide anything in the quiet that surrounds him, and neither can you.

"Just friends?" JJ hates himself for drawing this out, but he's winging this, and with no script to go off he's struggling.

"JJ what the hell is this about?" the tone of your voice has changed, shifting to something like fear. It's jarring to hear and leaves JJ with an ache in his heart. But he can't stop now, he needs to keep going before he closes himself off completely. He's losing his window of opportunity with every second he stalls this, and he knows that well enough.

"What if I wanted to be more than that? Than friends?" the words slip from him and it's like a burden has lifted itself from his shoulders, yet he can't stop talking. "What if being just friends with you was absolutely killing me? Because I swear to God, I think it is. Do you remember when we were ten and I made you that valentines day card and my handwriting was really fucking bad, but I told you all those things about how I loved you? I meant it, all of it and I honestly don't know how I've made it this far without telling you but-"

And that's when you kiss him. It's quick and awkward, like the kind of peck kids give each other when it's their first kiss, but it's enough to shut JJ up. He's staring at you wide-eyed, lips parted in disbelief, and you can guarantee you look the same, still processing what you've done when JJ pulls you back in for more. It might be the best thing that's happened to you when he does because somehow that kiss made everything else possible. One passionate moment after another came after that, and soon you were closer to JJ than you'd ever been. You had no fears with him, willing to follow the boy to the ends of the earth, and JJ, well JJ would do anything under the sun for you, not that he wouldn't have before he had the privilege of making out with you daily.

It only got better from there, and when JJ asked to marry you, it came as no surprise to your friends. But seeing the boy in front of you, holding out a plain silver band of his that you always claimed to love, made you fall further in love than you had ever been. It was similar to John B and Sarah in the way that it was so unofficial, yet it meant so much. And later, when you had your first kid together, a daughter, JJ became more attached to you than anyone else he'd ever met. He finally had a family, one of his own flesh and blood that actually showed him love, and he had you to thank for that. And so he would. He'd thank you every day in different ways, big and small, no matter what time or place because it mattered to him that you knew just how much he cared. And when it came to the day when you were sending your girl off to school, it all came flying back.

"You're gonna have a great day, and when you get home, you're gonna tell me all about it, okay?" JJ is knelt beside your daughter, hands on her small, chubby cheeks as she nods before he pulls her into a tight hug. "Go show those other kids how a first day at school is done."

The little girl gives him a big toothy grin, one of her front teeth missing as she does so. She reminds you so much of JJ, blonde hair, and chaos for a personality. When she runs off toward the front doors of the school, JJ stands, coming to your side. "D'you think she'll be alright?" he slides an arm around your waist as he asks, pulling you into him as he watches her go.

"If she's anything like her father she will be."

That makes JJ smile, and you know he'll worry about her all day until she gets home. When she does, she'll ramble on about the new friend she made, and the next time she leaves for school, the one you and JJ had broken into all those years ago, he won't be as concerned. Because if his daughter is anything like you, she'll make it through, and if she's like him she'll smile through it too.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads @hiya-itsamberamber @s00buwu

OUTER BANKS TAGLIST: @scenesofobx

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

Text

Head Over Heels

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Leah doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.

But when you lift the bottom of your shirt to wipe away the sweat on your forehead, Leah can’t help the way her eyes drift down to your abs. You’re all fit, most girls having well defined muscles themselves, but something about yours has Leah biting down on her lip, staring unabashedly as she helps collect loose balls around the field.

One of the girls shout at you, telling you to stop showing off your assets. The shirt stays in your hands, but you stop wiping at your face, confusion etched all over your expression. It’s sometimes cute how oblivious you are to your good looks and even better physique.

Leah’s still watching when it finally clicks for you, the embarrassed smile turning into a knowing smirk. When you start posing, playing to the hoots of your teammates, Leah stumbles over her feet.

And straight into Katie.

The Irish woman lets out an indignant cry when she drops the stack of cones she just spent the last couple minutes picking up. “Leah!”

Somehow it takes the two of them longer to pick up the spilled cones than Katie did by herself. The two of them keep pushing each other, their laughter and jokes making the process ten times longer. By the time Leah remembers what got her in this mess in the first place, she doesn’t know how much time has passed.

Leah raises her head to see you already looking her way. The second your eyes make contact, your smirk instantly fades into a shyer, more genuine smile again. Your hand raises in a half-wave greeting.

Leah ducks her head, a blush instantly spreading across her face.

---

As much as Leah loves football, she always dreads weight training. Yes, it’s important to build muscle and keep up her strength, but damn is it tiring and damn does it allow her mind to drift to many places it definitely should not be drifting to.

Especially when you’re in view.

You’ve just switched positions with Lucy, the defender having just finished her own reps. Lucy helps you get the weight off the rack, keeping a careful hand on your back until she’s sure you’ve got your feet firmly planted.

And then you start squatting.

Leah has to fight the urge to groan. See, she would be fine if you were not checking your posture in the mirror or maybe just not standing right in front of her. But the problem simply lies in the fact that you are standing in front of her. And you are facing the mirror. Which means Leah’s getting an eyeful of your ass every time you go to squat.

Leah’s not sure how she’s going to survive conditioning today.

The music playing overhead on the speakers cycles through song after song. The entire time Leah just watches you go through the motions of your own exercises. It isn’t until there’s a strangled wheezing sounding off from next to her that Leah rips her eyes away from you and back to where they should have been all this time.

“Shit!” she hisses, quickly grabbing hold and racking Keira’s bar.

The first thing her best friend does is rub at her chest and hack out her lungs. Keira’s next act is to repeatedly whack at Leah’s thigh.

Leah squeaks in response, instantly recoiling from the hits.

“I cannot believe you risked my life to ogle (Y/N). She’s hot, I get it, but c’mon Leah.” Keira looks more amused than annoyed, but she still looks a bit annoyed nonetheless.

“Hey, be happy you don’t have to see this every week.” Beth chuckles from her spot next to the other two Lionesses. “Leah’s about ten times worse when exposed to (Y/N) lifting weights back with the Arsenal girls.” The blonde striker ignores the glare Leah throws her way.

“Let’s be honest, nothing’s worse than going to the beach with the two of them,” Keira jokes back.

Leah’s seconds away from strangling the two girls next to her when she notices movement from the corner of her eye.

She refocuses her attention back towards you… just as you make eye contact with her through the mirror.

Your eyes go wide at the same time Leah’s does. Your face burns a little bit when you realize she’s been watching you while hers does so for being caught.

Leah awkwardly scratches at the back of her neck, wondering how in the world she’s going to explain this away when your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of amusement.

And then you wink.

Leah jolts so suddenly that she slams into the weight rack, sending the loose weights crashing to the floor.

---

Leah’s not sure why she thought taking a bunch of rowdy football players to a bowling alley was a good idea. But she did. And now here you all are.

Some of the younger girls are causing a ruckus near the bowling lanes, another half of the team scampered away into the arcade the second you walked in. You’re sitting quietly at one of the tables in the back with Lia, the two of you deep in conversation while Leah and another group of the girls grab some food for the rest of you.

She must’ve been staring too often, for she’s only just paid for the food when Caitlin starts poking fun at her.

“Earth to Leah, Lia and (Y/N) aren’t going anywhere,” the Australian snickers.

Caitlin’s observation catches Steph’s attention, the second Australian quickly jumping in on the fun. “If you stare any harder, you might burn the two of them into crisps.”

“The two of you are literally the worst,” Leah complains, face turning red from their teasing.

It’s rare to ever find a day when the team goes out and not have at least one of them make fun of the way Leah’s so obviously smitten with you. It always makes it all the more fun when you’re always oblivious to the way she stares or clumsily runs into things whenever you’re in her presence.

Good for Leah, she’s actually perfected tuning out most of the teasing. After all, you can’t really get far in life if you don’t have thick skin. It isn’t until both of the Australian’s eyes go wide, fixated right over her shoulder that Leah tunes back into the conversation. However, neither of them have a chance to say anything before Leah hears a familiar voice.

“What’cha guys laughing at?”

Startled, Leah turns around, accidentally knocking over one of the cans next to her in the process. She watches with horror as it drops towards the ground. She’s mentally imagining the amount of work she’ll have to do to clean it up when a hand darts in front of her.

You snatch the can out of the air before it can make contact with the ground.

“Hi,” Leah breathes out.

Your grin turns dopey. “Hi, babe. I think you dropped this.”

Leah blushes when you hand her the soda can.

“I’d wait a little bit before opening it.” You look over your shoulder mischievously. “Or give it to Katie.”

Caitlin lets out a bark of laughter at your suggestion. “I think she might kill you if you did that.”

Eventually the four of you move on to another topic of conversation, hoping to kill more time until the rest of the food arrives. You’re unusually silent, more than content to rest your chin on Leah’s shoulder, hands wrapped around her waist.

“Any reason why you’ve decided to come join us?” Leah hums during a lull in the conversation, relaxing against your arms.

“Just missed you.” You shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Caitlin fake gags. “You guys are disgustingly in love.”

“As if you don’t do the same with your own girlfriend,” Steph snorts. She gives you a fist bump when you hold your hand out for one.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” the forward grumbles.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving side now, isn’t it.” Leah tsks under the breath.

All she receives is a death glare, one she is quick to ignore.

When your food finally arrives, the two Australians are quick to depart. You and Leah take your time, carefully stacking the trays.

You probably could’ve grabbed some more, but you seem content with having one hand pressed against Leah’s back. There’s really no reason for such a touch, but Leah couldn’t find herself to complain.

Except for the fact that the feel of your hand is a little too distracting.

Leah doesn’t even make it past the first set of stairs without nearly face-planting. It’s only your arm dropping to hook Leah’s waist that stops her from meeting an untimely demise

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute when you stumble over your feet.” Your words are accompanied with a cheeky grin and a wink.

So okay, yes, Leah might be a klutz whenever you’re near her. And your friends might all tease her for never being able to stay on her two feet. But at the end of the day, Leah wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as you’re there to catch her, she wouldn’t mind falling for you every day.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #Ace writes

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elderberries-and-honey · 2 months

Text

The garment the shop keeper had shown to Winifred was stunning. Nothing she would have ever thought to purchase without the suggestion, and it took a lot of prodding from both the shopkeeper and Millie to even pay so much for something only she would get use out of, even if it was second hand.

Once back at the house, she arranged for Beth to take the children for a sleepover at Jackson and Louise's house. It didn't take much for Beth to understand the context of her request and naturally, she suggested she stay over with them as well to ‘help’.

Following their departure, Winifred began trying on various shades of pink lipsticks and blushes that she saved for special occasions, taking her hair up and down over and over all afternoon until deciding on a style. It felt good to fuss over herself this way, as she had when Lawrence began courting her.

However, Lawrence's day had gone quite differently. His wife deserved better than how he had left her, and as he walked along the dirt paths, he continued to beat himself for having done so. He agonized the entire way home, running a nervous hand through his hair repeatedly as he thought of what he was going to say to Winifred. How could he even begin to apologize? How did he explain what happened?

He finally reached the house, standing outside the gate, and took a deep breath. Part of him hoping she was already asleep as she usually was by this late hour. But the thought of her being up there, equally as beside herself, moved him along and he knew he couldn't continue to keep her waiting in uncertainty any longer if she wasn't.

Winifred stood in front of the mirror, taking one more look at herself before her husband would be walking through the door. The red gown was flattering on her figure, even she could see that, fitting snugly on the places of her body she had grown self conscious over but instead of detesting it, she admired how they looked instead. She felt prettier than she had in weeks, her reflection a little closer to someone she recognized.

She had been so lost in herself, she hadn’t heard the front door shut but the loose floorboards on the wooden steps squeaked under the weight of his shoes and gave away his position.

"Oh no..." she whispered, suddenly insecure of her outfit. Was it too much? What if he thought she resembled some kind of harlot? "Oh, goodness me...oh, bloody hell." She mumbled under her breath, gathering the train of the gown before sprinting into the bathroom for refuge.

She made it to safety just in time, hearing the door of their bedroom open, and Lawrence calling out for her.

"Winifred, are you in there?" Lawrence asked from the other side of the bathroom, though he could see her shadow moving around through the crack beneath the door. When there was no reply, he added, "Will you please come out of there so we can talk this through?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, and every second that crept on by, she wished more and more that she could put on her nightgown instead of this scantily-clad outfit. But then she thought about what Millie had said, that she'd never seen anyone look at another the way Lawrence looked at her. She needed to see it for herself, to know for sure that her husband still pined for her.

Finally, she stood in the doorway, still fearing it was too much.

"Do you like it?" She asked timidly, but even the thickest of skulls could pick on the coyness that lingered in her voice too.

Lawrence's eyes widened as he took it all in, not even sure where to look first. "Of course, I mean...you...bloody hell!" He blurted, laughing at himself a little for the outburst. "You look amazing."

There it was! That gleam in his eyes, the one Millie told her she saw, the one that they wrote romantic stories about, the one that told her wasn't making a fool of herself. But slowly the cogs inside his brain started to turn and the expression began to change once he started putting the pieces together.

His shoulders slumped, staring at his wife for a long while before saying anything more. He knew that he had left her vulnerable and alone this morning, and here was the price he had to pay, albeit not a particularly awful one.

"I am deeply sorry for leaving you like that this morning Winifred." Lawrence finally said. "I was less of a man for having done so than what preceded it, and I sincerely hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

She listened to his explanation attentively, trying to make sure she held space for both of their feelings in her heart. Afterwards, she revealed the truth about how she'd been feeling about herself lately.

"But I do truly forgive you." She said, looking up at him now. She truly believed it took a lot of humility to confess something like that and had no intention of holding it against him, if anything, it only deepened her compassion towards how much pressure he'd been under lately.

The tension and unease that had plagued Lawrence since he stepped out of the house that morning dissolved the moment Winifred embraced him. It was hard for him to believe his Winifred could see herself as anything less than ravishing but he was determined to make more of an effort to remind her, and he decided there was no time like the present.

He spun her around to face the mirror, trying to keep his eager hands from wandering too much. He was determined to take his time, to show her how he adored every part of her.

"I should have taken you in front of this mirror and shown you how beautiful you are, Mrs. Baudelaire," Lawrence said, his words laced with sweetness and honey, "do you see how beautiful?" He asked as he stared into the reflection.

As Winifred looked up at herself yet again for the dozenth time that day, she smiled, feeling more elegant than she had even just a half hour before with Lawrence standing next to her now. "I do," Winifred said. "You make me feel beautiful, Lawrence."

"That's all I needed to hear." He whispered, dipping his head lower towards the flesh of her neckline. "Now, why don't I make you feel good too?" He murmured in her ear. His lips pressed against her skin, kissing her earlobe, and then down her neck while Winifred leaned into the feeling.

She had yearned for his touch all day, needing that reassurance that she was still desirable and worthy of intimacy, and she couldn't keep her longing for it to herself for another moment. She stepped away from him for only a mere second, quickly finding his arms again. His hands slid to her waist just as fast, needing her to be nearer to him even still.

Lifting her with ease, he carried her over to the bed, ensuring that he matched the feverish way she had begun to kiss his lips. He might not have been able join her in euphoria, but he understood now more than ever that taking her there even when he couldn't go there himself was important in a marriage.

next / previous / first

#1893 #can i get how many synonyms are there for beautiful please alex? 🤣#lawrence you are the husband every woman deserves #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storystelling #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #lawrence baudelaire

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel.

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames.

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach.

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill.

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell.

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!”

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool.

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone.

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts.

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.”

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer.

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind.

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though?

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement.

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone.

It wasn’t always that way.

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank.

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America.

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose.

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him.

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked.

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018.

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface.

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves.

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away.

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.”

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?”

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled.

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table.

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?”

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face.

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.”

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?”

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching.

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door.

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering.

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head.

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.”

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony.

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot.

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed.

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex.

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight.

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him.

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility.

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late.

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants.

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling.

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?”

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers.

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal.

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him.

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin.

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.”

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it.

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle.

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.”

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?”

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject.

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had.

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly.

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk.

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes.

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.”

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?”

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.”

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room.

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet.

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form.

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.”

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.”

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up.

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room.

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today.

My place.

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place.

Not permanently, anyway.

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit.

It can’t become a habit.

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear.

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him.

This weekend he felt powerless.

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery.

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side.

The answer to his prayers.

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself.

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined.

But mostly, it was a relief.

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears.

Even if he can probably never tell you again.

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up.

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear.

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV.

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?”

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.”

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?”

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.”

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease.

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you.

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?”

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with.

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV.

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots.

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break.

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.”

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.”

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.”

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip.

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace.

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies.

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat.

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock.

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse.

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet.

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips.

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you.

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek.

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod.

This is stupid.

You both know it.

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him.

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side.

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much.

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts.

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver.

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself.

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak.

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice.

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy.

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze.

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper.

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself.

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge.

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you.

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips.

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking.

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed.

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows.

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs.

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest.

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.”

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs.

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him.

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?”

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation.

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?”

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison.

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.”

That makes up his mind.

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.”

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.”

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp.

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion.

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them.

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer.

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin.

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement.

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?”

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud.

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child.

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements.

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?”

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.”

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation.

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place.

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it.

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest.

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around.

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask.

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone.

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free.

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses.

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him.

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying.

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing?

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face.

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks.

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be.

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.”

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?”

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him.

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate.

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud.

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace.

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable.

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms.

Then it’s quiet.

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really.

“This is good,” you say eventually.

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.”

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside.

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges.

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue.

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past.

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face.

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his.

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?”

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

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