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raisin-writes · 10 months ago

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hachi x reader hcs

fishman island got me feeling kinda fruity for this big lug and i know DAMN well the normies aint gonna write for him, gotta do everything myself around here smfh

sfw and nsfw

nsfw under the cut. minors dont interact with that part istg 🫵👁️👁️💢

sfw:

super super sweet bf, like tooth rotting levels of sweetness.

hes the one who asks you out, but hes so shy and awkward about it. any courage he'd gathered beforehand goes right out the window as he twiddles his thumbs and stutters over his words like a fool. its all the more endearing, really; you cant help but laugh when his face lights up and he pulls you into an all encompassing bear hug while jumping around hooting and hollering after you accept.

big kisses from him, likes to surprise you with them when you're looking away only to get a cheekful when you turn back to face him again- that long mouth of his has its advantages. giving him kisses in return makes him squeal and often ends up with you being pulled into him, his arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles you with his cheek, giggling and smiling.

he could never say no to you. he'd give you the world if he could, you mean so much to him. he doesnt have much in the way of financial security, especially now that hes retired from his pirating career, but by god he will try his damndest to make good on his promises to provide for you.

LOVES pda, it makes him feel all giddy inside. even just a peck on the cheek has his chest puffing up and a big grin forming on his face. hand holding makes him weak in the knees. cupping his cheeks in your hands and locking eyes with him while you have that soft, loving look in your eye will make him flush beet red from the top of his head to his chest, you swear you can see steam coming out of his ears.

he gets all starry-eyed whenever he gets the chance to just sit back and admire you, a longing sigh leaves his lips and his heart swells with love.

he doesnt mind making a fool of himself if it makes you laugh- whether that be with some sort of accidental slap-stick routine (he gets so clumsy around you) or singing the worst rendition of a love song in all his tone deaf glory. hes addicted to the sound, he cant get enough of it. your happiness never fails to bring a smile to his face.

regularly gushes about you to caime and pappagu. camie is so happy for him and lets him babble on for as long as he likes, but pappagu will eventually roll his eyes and start to tease him if he rambles for too long. from what hatchi tells them, you seem very nice, they wonder when they'll get to meet you.

really enjoys meal dates, hes lowkey kind of a foodie. dont worry, whatever you dont eat he'll gladly finish for you.

making food together is such a tender, intimate activity for him, it makes his heart ache (in a good way!). likes to show off his culinary skills in an effort to impress you; compliment him on said skill or how good the food tastes and he'll give you the cutest bashful smile youve ever seen, hes so modest. he gets all flustered when you ask him to help you with anything involving him standing behind you and guiding your hands.

endless takoyaki. its on the house, only for you- no ifs, ands, or buts. if you have special requests for him hes more than happy to accommodate.

hes very strong, so no matter how light or heavy you are, he can easily carry you around like a princess in his arms, on his back, or up on his shoulders, whichever you prefer. in truth, he likes carrying you on his back the most, like a little backpack <3

swimming dates are another favorite of his. it feels like youre in his domain while in the water, and he has a duty to keep you safe. loves diving down below the surface and swimming around with you on his back or in his arms. he'll take you to his favorite reefs and show you around the local marine life.

he took you to a kelp forest one time and fell in love with you all over again with the way you looked- awestruck, the sunlight glistening from the surface shining through the kelp made you look ethereal. kissing him under the water makes him feel like hes died and gone to fish-heaven, he feels so at peace down here with you. dont even get me started on the way he screams internally at getting to see you in a swimsuit for the first time; he gets so red, hiding his face in his hands and kicking his feet.

HUGE cuddle bug. hes the reason they call it octopusing, his hands and legs are curled around you so there is absolutely no chance of escape, yet at the same time youve never felt so safe. whether youre sitting in his lap or laying in bed, hes happy as a clam just being so intimately close with you, skin to skin, chest to chest or spooning you from behind. loves having you lay on top of him, his hands rubbing soothing shapes into your back and giving you forehead kisses. on the other hand, he also likes it when you let him rest his head on your chest, his arms over your torso, and your nails combing through his hair (he'll forgive you for messing up his meticulously shaped 'do).

whether you want to live with him down on fishman island or up on the surface, he doesnt care. he'll be content and happy so long as he gets to be with you. if you decide on the former, he might have you live with camie for a while, at least until he can figure out a safer place to live (like hell is he gonna let you step foot in the noah district). but for you, its worth the trouble.

nsfw:

oh this fishman is a service verse fr fr, he lives to please.

because hes much bigger and stronger than you, he feels its just easier for you to take the lead and tell him what to do. he doesnt want to end up accidentally hurting you, so normally he'll just let you have your way with him, whether that be climbing on top of him and riding him while he holds you up with all of his big greedy hands, sitting on his face while he moans into your wet heat, or sinking down on his thick fingers- hes got plenty for you to choose from 😏.

gets a little nervous when you ask him to be on top. he knows hes a big guy, hes afraid hes going to accidentally crush you under him if hes not careful. dont worry, with a little encouragement and maybe some teasing, hes more than happy to give you what you need.

absolutely no degradation, choking, or hitting. he could never intentionally hurt you, that would be too much for him, he'll feel so guilty. youre his sun, his moon, his stars- in his eyes, you deserve only kindness.

hes not the best at dirty talk, but when he gets to the point of babbling, he'll shower you with praises like "you feel so amazing, your face looks so pretty right now", and cries of "need you so bad, youre perfect. youre so perfect. i love you so much." alongside other sweet endearments.

if you really beg him and goad him on, he might get huffy and smack your ass or manhandle you a bit to get back at your teasing, but thats the extent of his ability to dom. deep down you know hes capable of more, but the wall of self-discipline hes built up for himself is damn near-impenetrable.

hes in the 7 feet tall range, so you know that thang is big- around 7 inches to be specific. its tentacle-like, thick, and has a smooth velvety texture with a tapered tip. the underside has small, underdeveloped suckers that feel insanely good when he slowly drags his cock down against your walls. it normally sits inside him, tucked into a slit between his legs, but it unsheathes itself when coaxed out or hes teased in other erogenous zones.

he gets really whiney and whimpery when hes about to cum, its insanely cute. his shoulders will shake and his knees start to buckle but by god is he gonna make sure you finish either before or with him- he'll even stubbornly push himself to the point of tears to make sure he doesnt beat you to the finish line.

he has a weird thing about making sure you're satiated before he worries about his own pleasure. "its the gentlefishly thing to do!" he'll say, but deep down hes kind of insecure you'll leave him if he doesnt go above and beyond. hes not the sharpest tooth in the anglers mouth, but hes got eyes and the wherewithall to realize that theres always going to be other humans and fishmen that'll be bigger, better-looking, and richer than him, and hes scared they'll tempt you away from him. he gets better about not thinking that way the longer youre with him, but it still eats at the back of his mind every once and a while.

to combat this negative train of thought, he requires a bit of special attention; lots of kisses, anywhere and everywhere, but especially on his face and neck, sweet praises whispered in his ear, telling him all the little details you love about him, teasing caresses, maybe a small bit of tickling to get him to laugh, boasting about all the things only he could do for you, etc. he'll bounce right back with a "r-really? you think all those nice things about me??" his face gets all red and he seems to forget how to make eye contact, but the timid smile on his face and the hint of tears beginning in this eyes is a good indicator that youve done a good job of lifting his self esteem and reassuring him youre all his.

back to the fun stuff, hes very good with his hands and mouth. he loves making you moan and whine for him, your pleasure spurs him on to keep going. hes very obedient when you tell him to suck on you harder or finger you faster, all for the sweet reward of your pretty whimpers and praises. hes a hard worker, having much more stamina than the average human, so he'll go on with foreplay for seemingly forever if you ask him to.

when he first pushes inside you, it leaves you breathless. youre whining and taking shallow gulps of air when he bottoms out and you can feel that delicious twinge of pain from being stretched just past your limits.

hes not faring any better; hes shaking, gripping the sheets under you and involuntarily rutting further into your warmth, the action making you cry out and grip his forearms to keep yourself from going insane. his eyes are shut tight, his brows scrunched together in concentration. its taking just about everything in him not to just slide back out and ram into you, you feel so deliriously tight and wet around him he might just explode.

hes so gentle with you. you can see hes trying his best by the way he grits his teeth and slides into you with slow, deliberate strokes, letting you get used to his size.

you'll be more than ready for him by the time he starts actually fucking you. his thrusts are heavy, making your whole body bounce back before meeting him again in a wet slap of skin against skin. it makes you dizzy with how full you feel.

he cums a lot. it gets pretty messy, so be ready for that. once hes gotten past the peak of pleasure, his loud, pathetic whimpering gradually subsiding to quiet little moans, hes slow to pull out, amazed at the sight of his release leaking out of you and around his cock. its not a full on kink, moreso just a fascination for him.

your sigh of contentment brings his attention back up to your face and he smiles. youre both sweaty, flushed, and tired, but hes still a gentleman, he needs to clean you both up first and foremost.

aftercare is so tender with him. hes quieter, his voice a low hum when he checks in with you. hes also attentive to any mess and soreness you have, hes got plenty of hands to multitask so you'll be ready for bed in no time.

cuddling is just routine at this point, but if youre too hot, he'll settle for just holding your hand while facing you, admiring. you conk out soon after youre both settled and sleep like a baby, he'll follow a little later when his eyes get too heavy to keep open.

he snores. it sounds a bit like a kazoo sometimes. its cute.

#breakin into a niche market with this one boys #hachi x reader #hatchan x reader #hatchi x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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stoutguts · 5 months ago

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A Pint of Comfort (💀🧼) PART 4

(The final part, woohoo! Let’s get into it! :333 ALSO REPOST FOR REACH BECAUSE I FUCKED UP AND FORGOT TAGS AT FIRST—😬💀😭)

(first time rlly writing a full length fic like this, so be nice okay?)

Tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, the definition of hurt/comfort, mutual pining (kind of?????/just barely (idk, I'm kind of bad with tropes), lots of crying (and suggestive kissing), Ghost has Astraphobia,—Johnny helps Simon through a PTSD episode, while also finally getting a much needed point across 💖

possible CW/TW for PTSD, flashbacks, Ghost's canon backstory, very subtly implied NSFW at the very end lmao, and implied parental/child ab*se

Link to part 3! Teehee:

“So, what’s got ye up so early?”, Johnny asks, as Simon hands him a fresh cup of joe.

“I thought I’d make ya breakfast. As a treat”, Ghost replies, blushing a bit,—pausing briefly to take a sip of his morning tea. “Also, I’m feeling better today.—I think I’m finally getting over this bloody cold”, they finish.

“Ah’m glad yer feelin’ better”, Soap says with his signature smile. Simon’s heart flutters. “Ye dinnae have to do that though, ye know ah’m not much of a breakfast kind of guy anyways—“, Johnny starts, but Ghost cuts his rambling short.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Simon blushes furiously. Ya took care of me last night,��when I was at my lowest. The least I can do is make ya breakfast or something…as a thank you”, Ghost says, averting its gaze, and rubbing the back of his neck.

Soap could’ve fucking wept at that.

Poor Simon wasn’t used to having things given to them, and someone not expecting something in return. And Johnny would be fucked, if he wasn’t going to shower the man with love and affection regardless if it’s reciprocated.

Soap’s love for Ghost, is simply unconditional. They’re his ride or die,—his soulmate.

In Johnny’s humble and infatuated opinion, Simon deserves the fucking world and then some. He’d fall over himself to give it whatever it wanted or desired.—Because that’s just how much he loves his partner.

“Oh Si, baby, ye don’t need to thank mae. He sets his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter, walking over to them. Ghost, in turn, setting down their teacup on its saucer. Yer happiness and well-being is all that matters to mae. Ah’m more than content with ye just being by my side like this…”, Soap says, with now half-lidded eyes. Cradling it’s face in his hands, as it settles it’s own hands on his hips.

The two share a kiss before pulling back from each other,—shaky and gentle.

“But—“, Simon starts, utterly flustered, but is interrupted by Johnny kissing him again, His hands stilling cupping their rosy cheeks.

It’s more passionate this time around, and it makes Ghost gasp, breath hitching, and it’s pulse race. Small noises slipping from the both of them.

“No ifs, ands, or buts..I love ye Si, I love ye so much. Yer mae everything. Words cannae even describe…Yer more than enough Si..”, Soap says, babbling a little, closing his eyes and touching their foreheads together.

“Ah’ll tell ye over and over, as many times as it takes to get it through yer thick skull.—Yer loved more than ye could ever know. Yer not a burden or a monster,—yer Simon…..I hope one day ye’ll see in yerself, what I see in ye”, Johnny finishes, finally moving his hands down from Ghost's face to take his hands in his.

He opens his eyes again, only to be met with his boyfriend bursting into tears, with them streaming down like a waterfall.

His actions had always spoken much louder than his words,—that is,—until this moment. (And though his actions did certainly help things in this instance like usual,—he could tell it still wasn’t the real kicker).

Overcome with emotion,—and the fact that he may have finally gotten through to it,—he fails to stop himself from crying too.

Eyes wide but soft, vulnerable, and begging Soap not to wound them. Simon's lips quivering, and hung slightly open in a stunned silence.

"Di-Did I say something wrong?—“, Johnny begins to overthink, but abruptly stops, as Ghost unlinks their hands and embraces him. Burying it’s tear streaked face into his neck, and Soap can’t help but be transported back in time to last night.

Tears still flowing and soaking his neck, as he tenses up again, with his thoughts running wild once more.

Reading Johnny’s body language, Simon lifts up.

“Ya did nothing wrong. Ya said nothing wrong.—And I hope so. I hope I can love myself, as much as you love me.—Thank you. Thank you so much, Johnny”, Ghost sobs, before kissing him this time. Before he can even respond, a hand is gripping tightly onto his mohawk like a makeshift love handle, while the other arm is wrapped around his waist.

Feral, with teeth scraping against lips, and their tongues clashing against each other. Primal, with harsh breaths being taken in through their noses, and small moans and groans climbing their way out of their throats. Both of their faces now tear-streaked, and they can both feel the wetness of their cheeks pressing up against each other.

Simon flips them over to where Soap is now the one pressed up against the counter. Before Ghost finally pulls away, and peppers kisses all over his face and neck. Mouthing at and paying special attention to the scar across his eye and the one on his chin. All the while, Johnny is writhing, scratching his nails against their scalp and back.

“Woah…..He breathes out panting.—Well yer pretty chipper this mornin’, aren’t ye?”, Soap says teasingly, a bit dazed, with a goofy smile that’s so wide that it hurts.

Simon chuckles. “Uh-huh, though I'd be even more “chipper” if we could eat first”, it suggests, just as breathless, smiling just as wide, and is just as dazed. Before finally coming to, and lifting off of Johnny entirely.

“Sounds like a plan”, Soap agrees, suddenly more eager, after he hears both their stomachs gurgling and growling.

…

The pair chow down on a bowl of some semi-burnt scrambled eggs each, and black toast with jam (how appetizing,—strawberry jam for Johnny, and grape for Simon). Neither of them really being able to cook for shit. (Most times defaulting to eating out somewhere, or microwaving some frozen dinners. Sometimes turning on a movie or a nature documentary to watch while (and after) they eat. Cuddling up to one another, full and content). The team effort they had made didn’t go well AT ALL, and it was one eventful shit show. Left them both laughing and shooting the shit the whole time, (which is probably why they fucked up so bad in the first place,—minus their almost non-existent culinary skills). Ghost was in charge of the eggs (because if they weren’t, they’d be even more burnt), and Soap was in charge of the toast (which he promptly forgot about of course).

The two had already downed a banana and an apple respectively, for a more balanced breakfast. Both the core and the peel still sitting somewhere on the kitchen table, having not been thrown away yet.

As they’re finishing up their drinks—Ghost finally pipes up after a long bit silence,—on a relatively quiet morning, at least for them.

“I think I get it now.”

“Git whot?”, Johnny slurs, as he speaks with his mouth full.

“That ya…Simon huffs a laugh at the slurred voice, and blushes. He takes the final sip of his tea, before placing it down on the table…Really, truly love me.”

Wow.

It actually said it.

“Mm-hm,—he swallows—and just how much do I love ye?”, Soap prods further, a mischievous grin on his face. He sets his fork down in his bowl of eggs, and puts his half-eaten toast back on their large, shared plate. (As they decided to consolidate, as to not have to wash so many dishes). (Not to mention, the bowls they’re eating out of are disposable).

Fockin’ Bastard.

“M-more than anything in the whole wide world…”, Ghost chokes out, avoiding Johnny’s gaze. Viciously taking a bite out of their toast.

Embarrassed as all hell, as it knows that it’s as red as a tomato at this point,—he can fucking feel it.

And he hates it, but somehow loves it, at the same time…

“That’s right. And who are ye?”

He raises an eyebrow, with that shit-eating grin still on his face.

“Simon Riley…Simon “Ghost” Riley.”

It corrects, before he can reprimand him. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly,—but with no malice or venom towards himself.

“Good boy. And don’t ye ever forget it”, Soap says, before simply turning his attention back to his food.

Ghost still pink, practically glowing at this point, with their pale skin not doing them any favors. They rub the back of their neck, before doing the same, trying to scarf it down as fast as possible. So it can excuse itself from the table,—as soon as possible.

…

The rest of day was spent in more bliss than ever before.

The couple’s bond having been forever strengthened and deepened,—from a seemingly ordinary weekend.

No longer would Simon harbor doubts about Johnny’s love for him. No longer would Ghost be afraid of being vulnerable or opening up around him.

It’s last reinforced concrete wall had been blown to smithereens, to hell and back, and here he was exposed in all his glorious beauty…

Soap be damned if he wouldn’t protect them with all he’s damn well got.

He’d be his life preserver when lost in the deep ocean and crashing waves of their own mind, own psyche. Be there for it when and wherever possible, drop everything, just to give him a mere pint of comfort. He could care less about them venting to him,—they could include all the specifics and gory details, and he wouldn’t even flinch. Simon would have his full attention, like he’s in debrief. Offering solace when and where he can,—in between listening like a dog with it’s ears perked up, at a noise that had caught it’s attention.

He’d watch it’s six,—always. Providing cover fire,—for their sake and their sake only,—he likes to make it’s job as easy as possible after all. Ghost’s own personal one-man clean up crew, aiming to save them from the exhaustion or stress. He’d butcher every last fucking tango, shadow,—every person who dare lay a finger on them. Johnny’d take a bullet through the head again,—just to save Simon and have the satisfaction of knowing he’d be okay,—that they would make it out alive at least.

He’d give his life up for him.

And Johnny damn well knows they would do the same, and then some. Possessiveness being one hell of a trait of it’s.

But now, there was no more walking on eggshells around him.

No more fear of crossing lines or boundaries. The two now harmonious in their radiant love.

~Fin.~

SOFTIE/SHY GHOST MY BELOVED

SOAP BEING THE BEST AT TAKING CARE OF HIS MANS MY BELOVED

I AM A PROUD SIMP OF THE WHOLE SOULMATES OR CHEESY ASS STAR CROSSED LOVERS TROPE SUE ME, I EAT THAT SHIT UPPP

I want to thank everyone for their support and stuff on this! I hope you’ve all enjoyed it, because I’ve certainly enjoyed writing it!! :

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kiankiwi · 2 years ago

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(angels) they love the other houses, even the beach house, bc they have their playroom and we make sure to put bigger things like hammock, baby swings, bigger play pen, etc. so when we get to the house e immediately points at the hammock and babbles desperately at us like "mama nini mama nini" qnd we both just fall asleep and aus watches us ans tries to wake us up but jer us like "aht, aus mama and e are tired. let's go get you a bottle" and baby nods and goes to look for the bottle

Oh as soon as we get to the other house it's bottles and bedtime. No if's ands or buts! We sometimes switch off giving the boys cuddles if one of them falls asleep sooner. One night we'll cuddle E to bed and the next we'll cuddle Aus to bed and hopefully more often than not we'll all go to bed at the same time

Aus and E SNORE too. But the cute little snuffle snores

#kiwis angel au

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christinescupofcoffee · 1 month ago

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All That Glitters is Not Gold

Chapter Nine: Where the River Goes

Jed trekked along the pathway with his new noble steeds on either side of him, and as long as they were following the escarpment of the Andes down, he knew that they were head3d south. All the while, he was still baffled by the behavior of those farmers and why they seemed so fearful of him even as he approached them in a benevolent sense. There was no way they could have known that he carried a medallion, or even an iota of gold for that matter. But he was already walking, alone, and with two horses and two donkeys to help him out.

On either side of him stood tall towering trees as well as rocky cataracts that seemed to extend high up into the clouds. It was wild to him that no one had said a word about this place to him back at the museum, and it was even more wild when he wondered if there was anyone else in the Old West who even so much as wandered off and found themselves in the high plateaus of the Andes Mountains. He was that close to finding a way down through the mountains as well as the spine of South America, and no one ever told him about it. To think that he had been that shallow, that nearsighted, so far gone with the thought of Octavius, that whole entire time.

At the same time, however, he couldn’t hold it against Octavius. The two of them were chasing each other all across those dioramas as well as the five and a half minute hallway: they both had neglected the worlds which lay around them, from the Andes to the place Ahkmenrah whisked Octavius away to, wherever they had gone. Perhaps there was something good to come out of the breakup after all.

A gust of cold alpine wind caused Jed to bow his head and hunch his shoulders. He had on his hat as well as two layers of thick denim, but something told him that he needed more than that, especially if he was headed southwards along the escarpment and with a river off to the side that seemed to be growing wider with each passing step. He had no idea what resided down at the southern end of South America, other than a place called Cape Horn. He had no idea where he was going, other than the fact that he was looking for his gold through the proverbial haystack.

Despite the cold of the mountains, everything around him was lush and green: the trees blanketed a part of the sky off to the left of him with thick heavy green leaves the size of dinner plates. On the right stood the rest of the mountain pass itself as well as the high plateau: whenever he even so much as took a glimpse up towards the summits to see the snow caps or a plume of what appeared to be fog, his head began to spin. All the while, the sound of the river babbling rang through the trees as it snaked down away from the top of the plateau and the trailhead through the mountain pass, and it wasn’t until the forest cleared out somewhat and beheld a flat plain of scraggly brush and more trees when they were met with the river’s edge itself.

At least he was down away from Machu Picchu and the even higher plateau back there, and thus he could potentially think straight again. It also helped that the alcohol had flushed on out of his system at that point, and he could walk about with nothing but the thought of the search firmly in mind.

Jed stepped over a long flat rock and onto a patch of lush green grass. Within the grass was soft thick dark soil: he stopped the horses in their tracks and held still in his place. He exerted all of his weight on the soil, and he knew that it wasn’t just from the rain. Something about that soil gave him a good feeling.

He let go of the reins and crouched down to the ground for a brushing back of the soil: he could tell right away that the soil had been disturbed, as if whoever was there before him had done some digging.

“I wish I had a shovel,” he confessed aloud. Augusta huffed and shook her head about, and he took a look up at her there on his right. He let his eyes wander over to the scraggly shrubs on the side of the mountain pass, where he spotted a handful of more long, low fence wires as well as more square stones which jutted up from the earth. He knitted his eyebrows together at the sight of it, especially since the stones reminded him of the ones back at Machu Picchu.

“Wait here, boys and girls,” he advised the horses and the donkeys, and he stood to his feet and walked on over to the pasture and the monument. Indeed, the stones seemed to be arranged about in a perfect circle, and one that extended out into the brush: the stones themselves were perfectly flat and level, as if the Incans who were in the process of building Machu Picchu had given the same treatment upon these stones before him; indeed, the first thought that ran through his mind was that this right here was originally Machu Picchu and the one behind him had been moved up there for more of a means of prowess. It almost looked like a prayer circle, or the beginnings of a brand-new building tucked up there in the mountains.

The brush inside the circle remained untouched, and yet he could tell that the earth there had been perturbed as well at some point by another. Jed turned to the stone to his left, only to find something engraved on the surface. He brushed away some extraneous soil from the grooves, only to find a larger version of the sun pattern from the medallion on the top, all the way down to the skull shape in the center: this sun was about the size of the head of one of the Roman catapults, and something that could potentially lead him back there if he was willing.

He turned his attention to the stone right behind him to find what appeared to be a crescent moon, also of the same size: two perfect circles to create the moon shape surrounded by what appeared to be smoke and a circle of stars. Jed doubled back towards the sun as well as the next stone over, which to have a trio of stars lined up in straight fashion; above the trio were two more stars followed by another two over them. An arrowhead jutted out from the side of the top two stars.

The next stone over had markings he didn’t recognize, with concentric circles as well as more stars. He had a faint memory of Octavius once talking about the Roman gods, from Sol Invictus to Luna as well as Jupiter and Saturn.

The Inca had bestowed him with a strange monument as well as all manner of gold coins, and no one would talk to him, either. It all felt so strange and yet everything about it seemed to add up to him. He was going in the right direction with it all as he reached the stone furthest away from where he had congregated with the horses and the donkeys. Something about the markings seemed oddly familiar to him, with the man at the center with his arms jutted out as if to direct the other men around him. It reminded him of the old papyrus back in pharaoh’s tomb in the museum.

“It’s hieroglyphics,” he muttered under his breath.

He knew of the intent: he wondered if it was really intended for him, however. But he knew hieroglyphics when he saw them: all those times of looking down the five and a half minute hallway for a glimpse of the golden tablet in Ahkmenrah’s tomb. He also knew papyrus when he saw it as well even if there wasn’t any around so to speak: the whole ordeal of having lost the book of the dead was still fresh in memory. He was making educated guesses as best as he could, even if his education wasn’t all that much to come from.

Jed was about to turn on back for the horses and the donkeys when he felt the muzzle of one of them rest upon the crest of his shoulder. He took a glimpse back to find it was Dora, and Augusta milled up right next to him.

“I think we done gone found ourselves a clue, girls,” he announced, and he could scarcely keep the smile from crossing his face. The donkeys joined them from behind with their hooves silently flopping on the soil around them. “I think, anyways. I’m gonna need to make myself a map of sorts here at some point. I can see us getting lost on the way back towards the museum… that is if we go on back. That is, if I can take you four back with me.”

Augusta shook her head and huffed, and her long mane fluttered about.

“You thirsty, girl?” he asked her with a stroke of her snout. “I reckon that ya are. Let’s go on back to the cave.”

Jed guided the horses and the donkeys back towards the trailhead as well as the edge of the river: another cold gust of wind sent shivers down his spin, and more so when the horses put their heads down to the water for a good long drink. Though it was still morning, he knew he had to prepare himself for when night fell again, and he also knew that he wasn’t going to get very far on foot, especially when he had such strong, hearty horses on either side of him.

“Let’s see if we can get you girls a couple of saddles,” he told the horses once they reached the trailhead again.

There was something about the way in which the trail snaked along through the trees that struck him as peculiar, as if he and Octavius had gone down a trail like that once before. They probably did: when Ahkmenrah had his book of the dead stolen, the two of them made their way down a trail through some trees down in Washington, D.C., and it brought them to the first clue which beheld the lost pile of papyrus. Jed however had kicked back a bit of the old white lightning to help with the feeling of bravery, and thus, he had a vague memory of it. It wasn’t like he could readily ask Octavius about it, either, who had gone with Ahkmenrah somewhere.

Something about the thought of that left a sinking feeling in his stomach, a feeling that he didn’t want to know, either.

“This old cowpoke doesn’t want to think about it,” he muttered to himself; the word “cowpoke” had slipped out from his lips, and he had no idea why, either, especially since the scotch had long been flushed out of his system. The word made him stop right in his tracks, and he took the medallion out from his shirt pocket for a better look: even with horses and donkeys, he had to distract himself from the thought which he had just experienced.

One of the donkeys, a little matte gray one with a little white potbelly and black markings on his ears as well as his muzzle, ambled up to him and brought his fuzzy lips up to Jed’s fingers. It was right then he realized that he never gave the donkeys a name as he took off his gloves to give him a feeling of familiarity.

He brought his snout to the medallion and Jed’s bare hand for a good long sniff, and the feeling of the fur on his skin tickled him a bit.

“Gold?” he asked the donkey, which fluttered its nostrils some more at the face of the medallion. It could have been that it was very well in the thick of smelling the scotch as it had washed away the extra dirt in the grooves, but it seemed to be fascinated by the gold nestled in Jed’s hand. Indeed, it brought its flat front teeth down onto the face of the medallion as if to bite it, but it couldn’t do it. It was there that Jed realized that the donkey was trying familiarize himself with him, or that perhaps he was hungry.

“I’m hungry, too,” he assured the donkey. “We’re with the Inca, though. Surely, they have things for us to eat, especially you.” The donkey moved his head up towards the back of Jed’s hand as if he wanted to be petted.

“I think I’ll call you Silver,” he told the donkey in a low voice. “The five of us are headed to the land of silver, so you get to be Silver.”

The other donkey huffed and padded up to him for some attention as well. He was the color of cinnamon and had a little white spot around his eye as if he wore an eye patch: his left ear had a slight kink to it, like he had it clipped prior to their meeting.

“I’ll call you Marley,” he said to the donkey. “I dunno, I just kinda feel that one.”

Dora whinnied, and Jed turned his attention to her as she lifted her head from the river waters. He let his eyes wander on over to the other side of the river, where he caught the view of some smaller trees, some with smaller leaves and little red and yellow spots up in the branches.

“Apples,” he remarked. “And looks like lemons, too? It ain’t Rocky Mountain oysters…” He shrugged his shoulders. “…but it’ll do, especially if y’all get to eat ‘em.” He glanced about the river to see if there was a way of going on over there. It wasn’t a big river, nor was it a raging one given the level ground, but he knew that it could be deep in some spots, and if he lost anything on the way over, it would be too much to even so much as think about. Jed spotted something up in the trees, back in the direction in which they came.

He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, and he guided the horses and the donkeys back along the edge of the river and to the trees. It was an older bridge suspended right over the waters, over what appeared to be the beginnings of a cataract. It wasn’t a huge waterfall, but it rained down enough upon the sharp rocks to create the beginnings of a white froth: if it rained more than it had the night before, it could possibly turn into a big one. The bridge itself was comprised of older planks suspended down from the overhanging trees.

“There’s our bridge, gang,” he announced to them. “It ain’t much, but she’ll do.”

The bridge itself looked to be wide enough for him as well as each of the horses and donkeys, which meant he was going to have to guide them one at a time over there to the other side. He was alone, however, and he had to have them all together with him over there. He held onto Augusta’s reins first and gently nudged her towards the head of the bridge. He took one step on the first plank; when he saw that the wood was supportive of his weight, he guided her towards the same one. When he saw that it was holding her, he began walking.

“Come on,” he gently coaxed her. “I got you, too.” Gingerly and with some direction, Augusta made her way over the bridge first with Jed at the helm. Her hooves weighed down on the wood, but the bridge bent with each step, which meant they could readily walk across without the fear of any plank breaking apart. It was still a daunting task as Jed had to watch his step over the aged wood lest any part of it break apart, as well as guide the horse across, as well as watch where he was going. He held onto the reins with one hand and the banister of the bridge with the other hand, and he took a glimpse down to his feet: the water babbled underneath him with thick white foam; through the pillars of foam, he noticed the smooth but sharp rocks embedded within there. Augusta followed him along the bridge, and he could see the fear in her eyes all the while.

But they reached the other side of the bridge, and he relaxed his shoulders once she stood on the grass there on the other side.

“Wait for me,” he advised her with a look into her eyes and a stroke of her snout once more. She huffed as if in affirmation, and he returned to the other side of the bridge to fetch Dora next. It was the same process as before, except she moved forth at a quicker pace along the bridge.

It was almost easy with Marley, who hobbled along as if business as usual. But Silver was wary about crossing the bridge: he had crossed over with three hoofed animals, and now one had been left there. He clopped his hooves on the ground and moved away from the mouth of the bridge, which in turn made Jed look down into his eyes as the start of a pep talk.

“Tell you what,” he began, “let’s ride together over the bridge. If something gives out underneath us, we’ll go down together. You and me, ‘cause I ain’t quitting you.” Silver blinked his eyes at Jed, who then rounded him and nudged him from behind. He plodded along the grass towards the mouth of the bridge, and Jed climbed aboard him, and he lay down flat over his back to give him a feeling of security.

“Easy… easy…” He held onto the back of Silver’s scraggly hair as he padded over the bridge. The aged wood creaked under the donkey’s hooves, and it didn’t help that the water sprayed up over his head and shoulders in a thick curtain at that point. Silver gingerly took one step, and his hoof missed the edge of the wood by about a hair. Jed let out a low whistle out of relief, and another one when they reached the other side. He climbed off and wiped his brow with the back of his hand even though he hadn’t even so much as broken out a sweat.

“Gonna get you two apples for that,” he assured Silver with a gentle pat on either side of his body.

Marley brayed right then, and Jed lifted his head for a look over to the trees. Indeed, there was another trail there on the other side of the river, one which led down towards those apple and lemon trees, and he led the four animals down there. Not only were there those trees clustered about on the edge of the river amongst the other deciduous trees, but there was a small, partially collapsed wooden shed and some heavy burlap sacks piled up on the outside.

“Looks like wheat,” he said in a low voice. “It’s wheat, oats, and barley as well. And it looks like these have been stashed here, too, much like the gold coins.” But when Jed glanced over his shoulder once more, he wondered as to whom would leave all of this here, as well as the horses and the donkeys. He could only assume that it was all for his benefit, that all of this was falling out of the sky for him. Where he had lost his gold, as well as Octavius, he found an absolute treasure trove before him in the thick of the trees.

Silver and Marley were both more than happy to carry one bag of each the oats, the wheat, and the barley, and they were both more than happy to have apples picked from the trees as well. Dora and Augusta helped themselves to apples as well, and Jed picked a bunch and tucked them into a few empty sacks found in the shed. Once he tied up the sack, he spotted something else on the ground.

“Oh, yes! That’s what I need!”

It was an old leather saddle, and a small one at that, but he put it over Augusta’s back and she carried it as if it was made for her. He then tied the sacks onto the saddle so they all could have something to eat for the next stint of the trip.

“Alright, boys and girls, let’s move on outta here!” he declared with a tug of the reins on Augusta’s muzzle, and the horses began to gallop away from the river’s edge. Despite moving at a slow pace, Jed bowed down to protect himself from the cold, alpine winds; with one hand, he held onto his Stetson hat and bowed his head. Augusta’s long mane billowed about in his face, but he trusted the horse as to where she was going. Dora galloped alongside them along the trail, as did Silver and Marley.

They followed the river’s edge for quite a while, all the way until the next sheet of clouds began to creep in over the plateau off to the right. Jed spotted another cave in the rock off to the left, a much bigger one that time around, and he could keep those four animals in there with him without any problems. He remembered that he had the scotch bottle still with him, but he remembered to make little cups in the ground for the four of them. But then again, the river was right there; nevertheless, he dug out little holes in the earth for them there at the mouth of the cave.

Once he finished the last hole, something caught his attention again, and he looked up to the pasture across the river: several black and white alpacas congregated in the grass over there, all looking as though they wanted to eat something, and all looking extra fuzzy as if the rain was about to come with a vengeance at any moment. As a result, Jed left his bottle out in the open and retreated to the cave with Dora, Augusta, Silver, and Marley.

It was surprisingly warm in that cave, but he knew that at some point or another, he would have to scrounge for some firewood and build a fire for the five of them.

“Let me tell y’all about this man I once knew,” he began again, that time in a low voice so they could hear him over the echo of the wind through the cave. Silver and Marley knelt down next to him to keep warm: they, too, we’re looking rather fuzzy from the moisture in the air.

“He was the best guy I ever knew,” he stated. “I loved him to death. Then… well, I’m not too sure what had happened. We slipped away from one another and broke up. And if I’m honest, I’m still raw about it.”

Silver inched up next to him, and his chubby little body almost felt like a pillow.

“I don’t really know how to feel about all of this, if’n I’m being completely honest,” he said. Dora rested her snout upon his shoulder, and he reached up and stroked her soft fine fur with his gloved fingers. Her dark eyes locked onto him, and he showed her a little smile.

“Do you know what I mean?” he asked her in a near whisper. She huffed and breathed a little harder as he stroked her some more. “I thought I could love a woman as well as a man, but now I’m watching him go and love a woman and yet I dunno if he still would like me at all. I wonder if he even still thinks of me.”

Dora huffed again, and then she crouched down onto her front legs right next to him. She curled up right next to him.

“He went off with Pharaoh into his own tomb,” Jed continued, and he began stroking her snout once again. “I dunno what they were doing back in there, either.” He closed his eyes as he felt his heart sink and his stomach churn. “I hate ta assume the worst, too. But I am. I dunno if he ever did love me like he said he did.” Dora then leaned into him as if to keep him warm and safe against the cold high altitude winds. Augusta took her spot on his other side: both horses were protecting him from the wind and the cold. Indeed, he shivered from the feeling, and he hoped that it wouldn’t rain on the alpacas out there.

#fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my writing #new chapter #all that glitters is not gold #all that glitters is not gold fanfic #natm jedediah #natm octavius #natm #natm fandom #night at the museum #jedediah x octavius #jedtavius #jedidiah x octavius #also on ao3 #text

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tomomoni · 4 years ago

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SO UHHH. HOW WE FEELING??? [@fear-of-victory.]

KDJSHFJSHRHDJS,SSMHR

#babbles #fea 🌸#chats with mobn #I CANDJSGGJSGT #YES 😭#I MISSEDF TYPIFN FAND SIMPING HERE SM #ANDS EKN #SHIRTLESS OGM #HAVEUEERHSIT #SHIRTEDJ #HHELLO??#HESDISP #SIR 😳#MAM HE THICC #AND SI #SIWHFGJE #I DSJFDJFHDH AAAAA

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sundayslullaby · 16 days ago

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Yes I did delete my old blog, yall were bein a bit much on my feed. I want to say that with love, the the tmi’s were.. tmi..ing.. love yall but uh wanted to get away from certain fandoms as well since they were ungodly toxic. So hi hello it’s me :3

Adding this part bc I know someone will possibly get offended or whatever the fawk. If I refollowed you back on this one no it’s not about you

#ands babbles on and on and on #<- block if you don’t want shit posts

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glazelilyy · 3 years ago

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Genshin babies latching onto their dads pant legs

(i am assuming the genshin babies are around 1 or 2 and can crawl/walk so that just makes it even more cuteeeee) i am holding this precious concept to my chest because it is so toothrottingly sweet aaAAAA- (ok, ok, we all know i don't have restraint so here are my tidbit thoughts including gorou and itto bc them as dads is my favorite thing :P)

diluc: he will meeeeeeelt and wonder how he has the privilege to be able to raise such a cute baby :D his baby latching onto his leg will never not make him smile and give him a sense of pride. even if he's doing something he'll pick his baby up and let them rest on his hip or sit on his lap if he's sitting and let them watch what he's doing and try and explain things to them (if he's writing on documents he'll give his baby a dry quill to play with or let their hand sit on his fist while he writes ueueughhguhg)

kaeya: AHH don't get me started he's all over it in the best way. pats their head and asks if they're lonely even if they can't speak coherent words just yet (it's honestly more like he's asking himself :<). he's another one who melts and wonders how he's able to be a father to someone so cute :P picks his baby up and hugs them tiiiiight out of gratitude with a lil smile on his face hehe

albedo: confused at first since he thinks his baby wants something, but then catches on and hoists them up into his arms. his heart is warmed that he's once again allowed to care for a being so fragile and soft yet full of unadulterated love. eeeee it makes him really happy that his baby finds physical comfort by his side, so he'll set aside any alchemical experiments and go for a walk to enjoy the scenery with his baby :D

childe: he is!!! so happy!!! immediately calls for his partner to see how cute their kid is being (raises his leg and gestures with his arms to his child who is hanging from his leg like it's a frickin monkey bar). no ifs ands or buts he will scoop his baby up into his arms and pamper them with kisses all over their face and neck and squish them to his chest for cuddlesssss. i hc childe as someone who doesn't believe he's worthy of domesticity but even just the little moments like this are enough to remind him!! :)

zhongli: will kneel down and check to make sure his baby is alright first, he'd be under the impression that something happened to them or upset them. but nope! they just want cuddles hehe, and once he understands that he'll open his arms wide and welcome their little body into his big embrace. seeing his child melt in his arms and trust him so wholeheartedly makes him so so happy his entire insides are a gooey lovey domestic mess :P

xiao: very very confused pls help him. he might not understand completely at first but the sight of his baby tugging at his pants leg makes his heart warm and the paternal instincts begin to kick in :P he'd be hesitant to pick them up at first because he's always scared of harming them, but the constant tugging and mindless babbles from his baby make him pick them up in the end (his baby's hands would go to pat his cheeks while he stares at them and he's officially in baby heaven and so full of love for his child hehehe)

kazuha: he's absolutely melting no doubt about it. the minute he feels a tug on his pants leg and looks down he's an absolute goner for how frickin CUTE his baby is. he'll summon a gentle current of wind that cradles his baby and takes them on a little, mini roller coaster ride leading right into their papa's arms. his baby smells of life and rejuvenation and he makes a silent promise to them of protection and eternal guidance and love.

scaramouche: annoyed at first, because the constant tugging was annoying mr mouche over here. but once he sees that it's just his baby he'll soften up significantly and rub their head with his large hand as a form of affection and greeting. he might even give them one (1) rare smile! but, of course, he can't deny his baby what they want when they're giving him those big ol puppy eyes and so he gives in and lets them sit on his shoulders or in his lap for the rest of the day :P (his baby ends up falling asleep in his lap and he can't help but give their forehead a lil kith eeee)

dainsleif: dain hasn't interacted with children for centuries, let alone any of his own. but part of him absolutely meeeeelts when his baby latches onto his leg. his instincts immediately make him pick his baby up and ushers them to sleep with a lullaby and a somewhat foreign smile on his face (AAAA DAIN IS SOFT FOR HIS KID(S) I STAND BY THIS). his mind is all jumbled and all he can think about is just how lucky he is to be a father (something he never thought he'd be able to do!)

thoma: he will pass out from how cute his baby is being right now someone give this man a glass of water- but seriously thoma would be over the moon happy and wouldn't hesitate to pick his baby up and bounce them in his arms to get them giggling. his heart is a gooey mess and he wants nothing more than to spoil his baby rotten with affection and lots and lots of kisses and hugs :P

itto: his baby practically uses his body as a jungle gym so he's not entirely disrupted by the tugging of his pants legs. but it always makes him super happy when his baby seeks him out for some parental affection!! similar to thoma he'll immediately pick them up and bounce them in the air a little (if they're old enough itto will spin them around)!! no need to say anything, he's immediately smothering his baby in kisses and tickles for being so darn cute :P

gorou: in absolute awe!! his mind might spiral into the reasons why he finally became so lucky to be a parent but he'll ultimately do his best to regain his composure and pick his baby up to hold to the crook of his neck for some nice tender and gentle snuggles :'))) he's just grateful that his baby will get to grow up in a more peaceful land than he did. awwauwhau my heart- gorou is so precious (his hand would stroke their head and back and he'd plant gentle kisses on their forehead AAAA)

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intheorangebedroom · 2 years ago

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Pleased to meet you, chapter 1

Summary: You meet Frankie Morales. Twice.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader. Reader's French. 😬

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: shameless mention of the fucking Andes™️.

[series masterlist] * [next]

Chapter One: Lovesong

“This is a Brooklyn bound L train. Stand clear of the closing doors, please”.

The distorted voice booming from the speakers comforts you in your theory that New York is a city made for New Yorkers, and New Yorkers only. You can’t imagine how anyone who doesn’t live here year round can go by in this monster of a city. Paris is so much more tourist friendly. You don’t get why everybody thinks it’s so dirty. Okay, maybe you do, but riding the Parisian métro is definitely easier than dealing with the MTA. And Paris is the most visited city in the world so if it is, indeed, dirty, it's probably because of the hordes of tourists roaming the city streets. Parisians can be unpleasant, though. You can admit to this.

Sitting beside you on the hard plastic seat, Rosie is chatting animatedly. Her bubbly enthusiasm soothes your flaring anxiety and a surge of affection warms up your heart, knowing all too well that’s precisely what she’s aiming for. It’s only the third time you two meet in the flesh but the familiarity between you is a testimony to the deep bond you’ve been sharing since chance brought you together five years ago, through a student exchange program during your freshman year in high school. You’ve been writing one another twice, three times a week, long letters, short postcards, a few words on a scrapped piece of paper, witty jokes etched in markers on ripped off magazine pages… The recent acquisition of an internet connection in the shape of a very expensive and noisy black box has brought you closer yet, with the ability to communicate in real time. You would spend endless hours on the phone, but phone calls are for emergencies only, as you simply can’t afford it. You’re entirely on your own since you left “home” after graduating from high school, and if you haven’t looked back, money’s tight. Despite working two part-time jobs on top of your scholarship, you never could have paid for this summer trip to New York, if Rosie’s mother hadn’t wired you a hefty part of the airfare. You’re pretty sure she won’t let you give her back the money either, even though they’re not exactly rolling in money, sharing a two-room apartment above a laundromat at the corner of 1st Avenue and East 115th Street. You don’t feel good about it, but being surrounded by their loving natures is a welcome respite from your loneliness, one that surpasses your guilt. You've never known such generosity from your own mother, despite her situation being more enviable than that of Dolores.

You shrug away the thought of your mother and bring your attention back to Rosie. It has got to be about the hundredth time she’s babbling on about the guy from her improv class who’s throwing the party she’s currently dragging you to, her black eyes shining bright with excitement. You nod absent-mindedly, taking in her perfect features, high cheekbones and golden skin, her luscious black hair tied in an effortless bun.

Notwithstanding your physical differences, you two come across as very similar, at least at first glance. However, where her extroverted nature is one of her chore character traits, yours is only skin deep. If you had to explain why, you’d probably say that the only thing setting you apart is that her mother loves her. Both women got pregnant during their senior year in high school, but while Rosie’s mom affectionately talks about her daughter as the best thing to ever happen to her, yours refers to you as "her failed abortion”.

Putain, just stop thinking about your mother, already.

You smile at Rosie, hoping it will convey all the affection and gratitude you feel toward her right now, unaware you’re riding at a 30 mph speed into an evening that will forever alter the course of your life.

Ignorant as you may be, you’re absolutely terrified. You don’t do well at parties, you usually drink too much, feeling too awkward in these kinds of social settings. A bunch of unemployed aspiring artists with useless BA degrees, you can’t imagine what you’ll have to offer any of them with your equally useless French degree in Roman History.

The dimly lit apartment is already overcrowded when you get there, garlands of colourful bulbs hanging from random pieces of furniture. The acrid smell of sweat mingled with smoke stings your eyes and you feel slightly light-headed for a minute or two. Despite her many promises not to do so, Rosie leaves your side almost immediately, having spotted the birthday boy upon arrival. You don’t resent her for it, you could have bet on this outcome the moment she told you about the party, but you feel utterly lost nonetheless. There's a lot of alcohol, some drugs, the music's loud, people are cool, you guess, but you're overwhelmed so you step aside for a beat, seeking refuge on the fire escape.

He’s hiding, just like you, but he sees you right away, and it’s not long before you see him too. He's standing in a corner by himself, a plastic cup in his left hand, tall and lean and broad, you can tell by the way his green plaid shirt is pulled taut over his shoulders. A strong nose, a sharp, clean-shaven jaw, thick brown locks swept back. When his dark eyes dive into yours, your breath hitches. A gentle smile lifts up the right corner of his lush lips and you have to pull yourself away from his gaze. You don't hear him arriving but you feel him as he slightly brushes against the naked skin of your arm with a bottle of ice-cold beer.

"Hey" -you can barely hear him over the music, his voice a low whisper, is he shy? "I thought you might need this."

“Oh yeah, cheers.”

You take the bottle, chug on it for dear life with a silent prayer of please please make me drunk not too drunk just enough because your insecure brain can’t make out what he’s doing standing next to you on the metal grid. The first notes of Song 2 by Blur blast from the giant speakers inside the room and your damn brain yells at you to go dance, you love this song, just get out of here.

“I’m Frankie.”

His eyes pin you down.

You chat for a while. A long while, actually. It’s hard because you can’t comprehend for the life of you why a guy so smart and handsome would be… into you? Is he into you? But it’s easy because he can’t comprehend, for the life of him, why a girl so smart and sweet would be into him. You’re into him. You talk about your lives and your dreams, it's that age. You’re broke but in France college is free so you get by, you’d like to be an archaeologist one day but you’ve no connections, and you’ve been told they are needed, never mind, education’s education, you’ll take it, see where it takes you. He’s very broke and he wants to be a pilot (“you wanna fly things?” He’s so handsome when he laughs, is that a dimple on his right cheek? You feel very hot under his gaze. It’s too deep. “Yeah I wanna fly things. Over the fucking Andes!” a flash of the dimple and you refrain from touching). He’s been working as a mechanic in a garage in Queens for the past two years, to pay off some of the student loan for his Bachelor’s degree in Aviation, and it’s about how long he can put up with the status quo. So he did the logical, efficient thing, he enlisted with the US Army pilot training program. They’ll educate him for free, or so he thinks. He’s unsure whether he should have told you that last bit. It probably won’t sit right with what he can tell are your politics. Did he fuck this up already? God, you’re sweet. Would you taste as good as you look? Probably.

There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just unsure. Expectant. You rest your hand on his forearm and you squeeze, “when you’re a pilot, will you fly me over the fucking Andes?”

***

You leave with him, something you’ve never done before. Something about his eyes that makes you bold. You spend the entire weekend locked up in his apartment, in a bedroom with orange curtains, losing track of time and fucking until you start making love. You hardly talk. You don’t need to. You’re both young and fairly inexperienced but the attraction and the curiosity make up for it, and you venture so far, so, so far, you let him take you anyhow anywhere and he gives just as much as he takes. On Monday he’s shipping out. So you give and take and give and take as much as you physically and emotionally can. And then some. He writes his number on a piece of paper, swear you’ll call me, you don’t even own a cell phone but you swear, i’ll call you. You safely tuck the paper in the watch pocket of your jeans. And you part ways.

***

On your way back to Rosie, you’re caught in one of those NYC rainstorms, and the distance between the subway exit and Dolores’s apartment is enough to have you drenched completely. Rosie’s rightfully pissed at you for disappearing all weekend, and yes, you get it, but you can’t bring yourself to care. She’s mid sentence into telling you no one at the party seemed to know that tall dude she saw you leaving with, that anything could have happened to you and she’d never know, when you suddenly blurt out “I’m in love, Rosie.”

Your tone speaks of certitude.

She stares at you with owlish eyes. She knows you to be overly enthusiastic about a lot of things, books, movies, places, heck, even cheese, but hardly ever about people. She wants to crack a joke, one of her witty one-liners that never fail to single her out in a crowd, you look every bit the hectic walk of shame you just came from, your features drawn with tiredness, runny makeup, hair a mess, soaked in rain. But your demeanour stops her abruptly and the words die on her tongue. She narrows her gaze on your neck, eying closely the extent of your skin speckled with purple mottled spots tracing a constellation, and at the crook of your neck, deep, red, bite marks, Jesus fucking Christ, did that guy try to eat you up? You’re standing up tall. What happened to you this weekend? Your eyes are alight with a bright, profound spark, there's no trace of the blurry sadness that usually lingers around you like a halo even when you laugh. She stares at you in disbelief for a beat. It's palpable. You’re vibrating. She knows at this very moment that she will never experience the depth of feelings you’re experiencing right now. Her smile drops. For just a fleeting second, she envies you.

You recount your weekend but you remain scarce with details. The orange bedroom is yours and Frankie’s, and yours and Frankie’s only.

Later that night when you pull out the little piece of paper with the intent of calling him from the kitchen phone, the digits are just a smear of wiped ink, washed away by the rain.

You cry until your voice is hoarse, until Dolores suggests you return to his place to leave a note in his mailbox. He told you his sister was scheduled to meet his landlord there in the afternoon, to retrieve his remaining belongings and negotiate for the deposit, but you’ll try anyway. Rosie escorts you, Dolores insists on it. On the never ending subway ride, you curse the size of this city, your leg bouncing nervously on the hard train floor, your jaw clenched. She throws anxious sideways glances at you, it drives you crazy.

When you exit the G train on Greenpoint Ave, it’s late already and the usually busy street has been nearly emptied by the heavy rain. You turn around the corner of Huron street, and you see it right away: the orange curtains are no longer hanging from the third floor window.

***

On a bleak Sunday morning, thirteen years later, you wake up to the sobering realisation that you can’t conjure up any of your youthful dreams, save for the ones of the orange bedroom. You’re definitely not an archaeologist. Your father died before you had a chance to reconnect with him, not that he ever seemed interested. You’ve come to terms with the fact that your mother is nothing more than a mean stranger who gave you life.

You did, however, make an effort to mould yourself into some kind of normality. The one thing that brings you joy and balance is your job in one of Paris’s most prestigious patrimonial libraries. You go out to the movies, visit exhibitions, argue with friends about the latest series over expensive beers in hipster bars, attend weddings and birthday parties in Buttes Chaumont in the summer and celebrate Christmas at your in-laws… Not your in-laws, really, you’re not married. But you bought an apartment with Eric, the man you’ve been dating for the past 5 years. An apartment is big enough of a commitment. Eric. Cold blue eyes behind 500€ tortoise shell glasses, thinning blond hair, more charming than handsome, junior editor at Gallimard. The loan is bleeding you dry. A civil servant, your income doesn’t quite match up with his. All things considered, the person you’ve become is not that different from the young woman you once were: enthusiastic, caring and fun, if a little insecure (and around the edges of you, ever present, the lingering sadness). Why, then, does he treat you like dirt? Why do you put up with it?

So on that bleak Sunday morning, you finally walk out. You walk out after too many years of trying your best, with nothing to show for it but a small nest egg and a persisting feeling of waste.

The following year is a blur of depression until Rosie shows up on your doorstep one day to wrestle your head out of the water. She convinces you to use that money to turn your life over, move to New Jersey and live with her. At the moment, it makes sense, she’s the one steady, comforting, benevolent element in your life. It’s a relief to put your life in her hands and to follow her.

The two first months after that are exhilarating, if a little terrifying. Rosie was right, as always. You needed a drastic change in your life, one that would place you so out of your depth you’d be forced out of your thoughts and propelled into action. Action is where you excel.

Your superior isn’t too pleased when you announce to her that you want a three-year sabbatical. You’re a very good asset. But as a civil servant, you’re entitled to it and she can’t deny you. She reminds you however that it is tacitly renewable every year until the third year, when it will become definite. She also stresses out that she cannot, statutorily, hold your position beyond the first year and will have to recruit a replacement. You don’t budge. You reckon three years is all you need to get back up on your feet.

You start drawing lists of what has to be done and sorting your belongings into categories: keep, storage, sell, charity. You happily get rid of what little furniture you own, as it was acquired during the period of your life you are currently trying to leave behind. Plainly spoken, none of it is in your taste. Nothing makes it into storage, either. You can’t part with many of your clothes, and your books even less. You’re going to have to use some of the money from your share of the apartment -and Eric made sure to screw you over the increase in value- to have them shipped to you anyway, so you might as well add your collection of vintage photographs and the many trinkets you brought back from your travels across Europe. Being virtually on your own, you have surrounded yourself with objects that bring you comfort, and a sense of home your failing family never provided you with.

You stay with Rosie for a while, in her cosy little house with two gardens (“one in the front and one in the back” she’s keen to precise with great pride) working with Dolores in her thrift store in Manhattan, near St Mark's place. The commute is insane, exhausting and long and has you questioning the entire enterprise. You hardly ever see Rosie, she works the night shifts at the hospital and when she comes home you’re passed out on the couch. But after a couple of months that feel like a lifetime, you find a position in a bookstore near Rosie’s place. After that, the rest of the plan is quickly set in motion. You rent out a furnished apartment, have your belongings shipped, and you unpack.

Jersey City is certainly not the place you would have singled out for a recovery, yet it works just fine. Far from home, you get reacquainted with yourself. After a while, it becomes less painful being you, until it starts feeling good again. You even date. You meet this playful, kind-hearted, spontaneous guy, Benny, in the most unlikely place. He makes you laugh and fucks you right. It’s a slow pace but he likes you and you like him, he wants more of you in his life, so on a Friday evening in early April, he takes you to a bar to introduce you to his friends.

“And this right here is Frankie, he’s like a brother to me.”

Taglist

#Francisco Catfish Morales #Frankie Morales #The Pilot™️#frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fic #Frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales/fem!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/ofc #triple frontier

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wiypt-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Chapter 15: Silent Disco

Part 2: Ride It Out

Summary: Adjusting to being a family of four is proving to be a little harder than you or Disco anticipated

Warnings: Language, adult themes, smut (18+ NSFW)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 6k

Main Masterlist // Rock N Roll People Masterlist

CH 15 Part 1

It wasn't long until you joined everyone, fresh faced and no longer feeling weighed down for the time being. Jack was with his father, those big arms curled around his little body as he drooled all over his little fist and Paul's shoulder. Dot was chatting away with her son as she started in with getting the last of the veggies ready for the pot roast.

In the lounge you found Big Jim and Connor, playing on the floor with his fire truck and police car; a toy Jim had insisted he keep at theirs.

“Wow, two emergency cars.” You smiled and CJ looked up at you.

“Yup. Hey, Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Cans we go see the fire trucks, at the station? Likes we seed the po-weece cars wiv daddy and Unca Barnes?”

"Uh sure, I think we can do that. We'll see if Daddy can ask Captain Danvers for a tour." You took a seat on the floor next to him. You looked up at Jim, "thank you for taking care of Jack. I didn't want to nap that long but, Nanny seemed to think I needed it."

"It was nothing, a little cereal, a bottle and he was out. We napped on the couch together," he chuckled.

Then you looked down at Connor, "so, now that I'm awake," you smirked, "you wanna tell me about your day with Daddy?"

“We wents on the wheels and the roly-coster ands I had a hot dog… oh and daddy says I can has some fish like Grumpy’s for my birthday.”

"Did he now? Good idea! We can pick some out together, then. And what do you think about going to the aquarium? Maybe see if Grumpy and Nanny or Poppy and Grammy want to stay with Jack."

CJ nodded, “I fink so.”

"Good."

“Just me, yous and Daddy?”

"Yep, just us."

CJ beamed at you. “Cans we do some colors-ing later?”

"Yeah, after dinner and I feed Jack, sure." You saw a flicker of something on CJ’s face at the mention of his brother and you inwardly cursed yourself. "You and Grumpy keep playing, I'm going to help Nanny with dinner." You kissed the top of his head and stood, heading for the kitchen.

Paul turned as you walked in, and smiled softly at you. “You okay?”

You nodded and reached your hands out for Jack, "c'mere baby."

Paul passed Jack over and as he did so, your baby gave you a grin and you spotted a little tooth cutting through his gum at the bottom.

“Oh, is that what’s caused all these tears, little guy, huh?”

He babbled softly and you and you rubbed your fingerpad over his gum.

"Almost there, bubs." You kissed his little neck and blew raspberries into him and he laughed loudly. After a few more, you grinned up at Dot, "Thank you for the nap, was he any trouble?"

“None at all, few little grouchy moments but his teething ring and orajel fixed him right up.”

"Good, how can I help with dinner?" You offered.

“You can’t.” Paul snorted, “you can’t cook.”

"Listen here you, don't be rude. I've been getting us by just fine the last few years." You scowled.

Paul chuckled and dodged the blow Dottie aimed at the back of his head, “now now, Ma, don’t be making me arrest you for assault.”

“Oh, listen here, Mr Hot Shot Detective!” Dottie scoffed. “You really think you’re something now you’ve been promoted.”

“Don’t think it, I knows it.”

With the laughing commotion, Woody gave a bark of annoyance and trotted into the lounge, CJ running past him as he came into the kitchen.

"Mommy... Mommy... Grumpy says I can stay heres tonight!"

“Oh, erm, I was kinda hoping you’d come home and we could watch a movie or do some coloring like you wanted.”

"Can't we colors here before dessert? Nanny said she haves cookies!"

“Connor,” Paul looked at him, “you stayed here last weekend, bud. And me and mommy are both off work tomorrow for a few days so we wanna have some family time.”

"But Grumpy says I could.” He pouted.

“Let’s not argue now, okay?” You cut across them both, “let’s have dinner first and see after.”

"Pwease, Mommy?"

“Connor,” you sighed, “I just said, we can think about it over dinner.”

"Yous mean," he stomped and stormed off back to the lounge.

“Connor James Diskant!” Paul’s voice was loud as he walked after his son, “don’t you dare!”

"Paul, just let him go," you hollered after him while Dotty placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Big Jim came in quickly, "oh y/n, I didn't mean to cause trouble."

“You didn’t, he’s just acting out.” You assured Jim. "It's been a recurring theme the last couple weeks."

Big Jim sighed, his hands going to his hips, "we've been there."

"So I heard," you smirked. "Paul will handle it."

**********

“I’m talking to you, stop right there!” Paul demanded and Connor stopped dead, turned to face him, his arms crossed over his little chest. "You cannot, you will not talk to your mother like that. She deserves every ounce of respect as does any other woman that's in your life." Paul crouched down so he was on Connor's level. "What you said was not nice at all."

Connor blinked, the tears in his eyes as he frustratedly began to cry, “but I wants to stays here!”

"Why?"

“Coz Jack wonts be here!”

"What? This again?"

“I no wike him!”

"You're gonna go in the lounge and sit on the couch for three minutes, young sir," Paul took his hand and pulled Connor gently but firmly in tone with him to the lounge.

“I no wants to!”

“I don’t care what you want.”

"I don't wike you e-ver. Let's me goes."

“Sit down on that couch right now, or Imma take you home before dinner.” Paul knew this was an empty threat, he couldn't really leave without filling his son's belly or feeding his family with his parents but he bluffed as CJ glared up at him.

"No."

"I mean it. One more chance, you can get up there on your own or I can help you, chose a side, Connor."

Connor sniffed as the angry tears poured down his face and he clambered up on the couch. “Go away.” He shot at Paul as he turned away.

"Do not move. Three minutes."

CJ began to sob as Paul stood, his jaw ticking as he headed back into the kitchen.

“Give.Me.Strength.” He groaned, shaking his head.

"Everything okay?" Big Jim asked.

“Not really, little shit.”

"Paul!" You scolded.

“Sorry, he’s just…” Paul sighed, “I’m not having him speak to you like that.”

You sighed, "thank you. I just think we're in a bad phase. What did he say?"

“Same thing he said this morning. He wants to stay here because Jack won’t be,” Disco shrugged, “then he told me he doesn’t like me and to go away.”

You felt your nose pick and your eyes burn. "Let's set the table and eat, huh? By the time his time out is done we'll be ready to sit down, I think." You looked to Dot who nodded.

"I'll get us a couple.of beers," Jim offered and headed for the garage.

The table set, Dottie placed the dishes in the middle and Paul headed back to go and get Connor from the lounge.

"Time’s done, pal. Let's go wash to eat." He instructed, his voice gentle.

Connor sat up, from where he had been led, face pressed into Woody’s fur.

“Otay.” He mumbled and jumped down.

Paul observed the chore and washed his own hands before heading back to the dining room with Connor in front of him. You were settling Jack in the high chair and feeding him some cereal.

Paul helped Connor onto one of the chairs and settled him onto the booster, pushing the chair towards the table so he could reach.

“They okay?”

"Yes." He said quietly, clearly still pouting while no longer screaming and crying.

“Connor, do you want a bit of everything?” Dottie asked.

"Yes, pweese."

Dottie made him a plate up as Disco got yours ready.

“Mmmm, honey, this looks great.” Jim smiled.

"Thank you, I know CJ loves it, that's why I made it."

CJ grinned at his Nanny, as he began to tuck in. “It’s my bestest.”

You softly thanked Paul for your plate and he quickly filled his as you gave Jack another bite of his cereal then took your own first bite of your meal. "Delicious as always, Dot, thank you."

“You’re welcome,” Dot smiled.

The meal was fairly quiet, bar small conversation and squeals from Jack before you helped clear and offered to wash as Dot packed up some left overs for you.

"No, Jim's got it, honey," she nodded. "You guys go handle my boys and we'll see you in a couple days."

You could hear Connor crying again as Paul picked up his toys after getting Jack in his carrier. "Are you sure?"

“Absolutely,” Dot smiled at you. “And be kind to yourself, honey. Don’t think on what CJ said too much. If I had a dollar for every time Paul or Junior said they didn’t like me or I was mean I’d be a millionaire.”

"Oh I know, it just hits at a bad time today. I'll be alright." You sighed. "He's also not napped today, clearly having had too much fun and is exhausted."

“Just like his grandpa.”

You smirked as Big Jim walked back in. "Bye, Jim," you hugged him and hugged Dot. "See you guys in a couple of days."

"You ready, Sugar?" Paul poked his head in while a crying and squirming Connor wriggled in his arms.

"Yep, I'll get Jack," you offered, "C'mon, Woody."

“I don’ts wants to go!” Connor hiccuped.

"Sorry pal, you've lost that chance." Paul said flatly. "Night, Mom; night, Dad."

"Call us when you sort your plans for the week." Big Jim waved.

“Will do.”

Connor cried the whole way home, which caused Jack to cry and by the time the four of you pulled into the drive, your nerves were shot.

Paul took Connor to his room while you brought Jack to the nursery and pulled a change of clothes and a fresh diaper out, before carting him to your room for a little wipe down and change.

Paul popped his head through the door to yours. “I told him to have a very good think about his behaviour today.”

"Okay," you nodded, laying Jack down on the bed, the things you needed around him for easy reach. You popped his pacifier in his mouth and un zipped his clothes. "Can you bring the food in from the truck and feed Woody?"

“On it,” Paul crossed the room to drop a kiss to your cheek.

In time, you were settled in your bed, back resting against the headboard and pillows, Jack suckling strongly at your beast as he was filling his belly for bed time.

Paul called up to say he was going to start sorting through some of the laundry and that if you needed him to yell.

You smiled softly at his gesture. He was keeping himself busy, a trait he'd acquired when flustered or his mind was busy. Mindless chores and tasks kept his brain noise down and helped him to sort through the muddle. You sighed and looked down at your baby boy while your heart ached for the boy in his room.

When Jack had his fill, his eyes closed as your nipple fell from his lax lips, out for the night. Unless his teeth hurt. You laid him in his crib in the nursery and headed for Connor's room.

Cracking open his door, you found your little boy hugging his new bear and his blanket. "C'mere, baby."

Connor sniffed and shuffled off his bed, padding towards you.

You picked him up and sat down on his bed, "You ready to take a deep breath and talk to Mommy?" He nodded. "It was a busy day, huh, baby? Big day, no nap, big emotions."

“I sowee.” He sobbed into your neck.

"Oh, Ceej, I know." You choked up, rubbing his back. "It was a mistake."

“I sads, Mommy.”

"Tell me why, Bubba?"

“Coz, Jack he cries all the times, and he cants pway wifs me and you has to holds him!” CJ hiccuped as he cried, “Daddy says lots you otay soogar.”

"Oh my sweet baby," you cried.

“And Daddy is mads too coz I was means and ye-owd at yous.”

"You made a mistake, Ceej, that happens," you sniffed and hugged him close. Your hand cupped his head against your neck. "I love you, my baby, I do and so does daddy. You have no idea how much."

“I loves you, Mommy.” He cried, his little hands grabbing fist fulls of your top.

You hugged him close and rocked him. You didn't know what to say, your instincts just telling you he needed his mama. Eventually, his sobbing died down and you felt him pull back a little. His little face was streaked with tears, his nose snotty. You wiped at it all with your thumbs, the joys of being a mom, and gently kissed his head.

“You okay?” He nodded. "Good. Now, you want to go kiss Jack goodnight on your way to brush your teeth? Then you can go down to see Daddy and say goodnight before bed."

"Does Daddy hates me coz I was bad?”

You opened your mouth to assure him that was, most certainly, not the case, but you stopped. You’d let Paul handle that, as it would mean a lot more if CJ heard it directly from his daddy.

“I tell you what, why don’t you ask him for yourself when you go down?”

He sniffed, "okay."

"Get your jammies and let's go see your brother, okay?"

CJ nodded and headed to his drawers. You helped him open them and he selected a pair with the Captain America shield on the front, his latest obsession. Once he was changed, you supervised him cleaning his teeth and then walked with him into the nursery where Jack was sleeping.

You picked him up and allowed him to tilt inside where he kissed his forehead. "I lobes you Jack Jack. I sowwy I was means."

“He can’t say it yet, Ceej, but he loves you too. You’re such a good big brother,” you swung CJ back up again and kissed his cheek, “now, go find daddy.”

"Okay."

“Hold the railing,” you instructed gently as he made his way downstairs.

Connor made his way down and found his daddy in the lounge. Paul was reading, the television off.

"Daddy?"

Paul looked up, and gave CJ a gentle smile as he marked his page and tossed the book down. “Yeah, bud?”

"I'm sowwy I was bad, does yous hate me?"

Paul felt his heart break and he sighed, “Oh Ceej, come here, Bubs.”

CJ headed towards him and Paul picked him up, settling him on his lap.

“I could never hate you. I was upset and angry because you weren't being good to mama and you were saying some things about Jack that made me sad, but I could never ever hate you Connor. I love you, you’re my boy.”

Again, his tired little eyes leaked tears as his chubby hands wiped them away.

“Hey,” Paul cupped his face and swiped the tears with his large thumbs, “it was just a bad day. And it’s okay for you to feel mad and angry but it’s not okay for you to say the things you did. If you get mad or upset, you need to tell me or mommy. Okay?”

Connor sniffled. "Okay, Daddy, I pwomise. I says sowwy to Mommy and Jack Jack a-ready."

“Good boy,” Paul kissed his head, “I’m proud of you for doing that.” Then he sighed, "You have no idea how much we love you. How special you are."

A little hiccup escaped his chest, "Speshul?"

"Mmhmm," Paul nodded with a hum.

"Like Woody's favourite toy speshul? The one that I can’t touch cuase he might get mad?"

"More." Paul chuckled and kissed the top of his head.

"Wow," Connor sat wide eyed and he paused for a moment. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, buddy.”

"Can you read my bedtime story? The one wif the pirates?"

Paul smiled, "I got a better idea, let's say goodnight to Mommy and I'll tell you a story about your Uncle Junior."

At that, CJ frowned, “who’s dat?”

"He was my big brother," Paul stood, lifting Connor to his hip like he weighed nothing. "But, let's go say goodnight and when you're all tucked in, I'll start the story."

“You has a big brodder?” CJ pressed as Paul climbed the stairs with him in his arms.

"I did."

“Whys I no seed him?”

"Well, uh, he's not here anymore. He died. A long time ago."

“Oh,” CJ paused for a moment as they reached the top, “how does he die?”

Paul thought for a moment, "Uh, he just was really sick, for a long time." He set CJ down as they came into your room, thankful for you being the quick distraction he needed so he didn't need to explain more. It would be a story for another time.

You looked over from where you were sat on the bed, the tv. “Hi.” You smiled as CJ climbed up onto the bed.

“I goes bed now, daddy’s gone tell me a story about his brodder, Uncle Joo-knee-Orr.”

"Is he now?" You smiled over at Paul. "I bet it's a good one." You opened your arms for a hug, "Night hug bug, I love you, so much."

“Loves you, Mommy.”

"Come on, Ceej, let's get tucked in." Paul still dressed but barefoot, smiled softly from you in the door way.

“Daddy!” CJ suddenly exclaimed as he climbed down, “I needs Woody.”

"He'll come, he knows the routine, c'mon."

CJ headed out of the room and Paul looked at you, “I’ll settle him then lock up and come join you, Sugar. You need anything?”

"Just you." You smirked softly

“Well, that goes without saying.” He grinned, flashing you a wink. “Get naked,” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed over the landing.

In Connor's room, the little boy pulled the covers back and climbed into his bed, wiggling into the mattress.

"Okay, Daddy Stud, I is ready." He tucked his little hands behind his head and smiled.

Paul laughed at his mannerisms, but before he could say anything, Woody trotted into the room and hopped up onto the bed. He gave CJ’s face a muzzle with his nose, bushy tail wagging before he flopped down by his feet.

"Now Woody he ready too!"

“Yup,” Paul settled on the bed, back leaning against the headboard as CJ settled into him, “all present and correct, Junior Officer Diskant.”

"Story, Daddy!"

“Okay, okay. So, Uncle Junior, his real name was James.”

“Dats my name! Connor James Diskant!”

"That's right, that's where it comes from!You were named after him and Grumpy, Connor is Poppy Nick's middle name. Anyway, he was five years older than me," Paul held up his hand, wiggling his fingers.

“So he was your big brodder, like me is to Jack Jack?”

"Yep, just like. And you know what, he didn't always like me either.”

“He didn’t?”

"Nope. I used to bug him like crazy."

“What’s did you do?”

"Cry a lot, took his toys, got him in trouble, but you know what, through all that, he was still my best friend."

“He was? So you played wivs him?”

"Oh yeah, when I was old enough, all the time. We shared trucks and toys, bikes.... We did it all."

“Does you makes forts?”

"He taught me how!"

“So I can…” CJ’s sentence was interrupted by a yawn, “I cans teach Jack?”

“I’m counting on it,” Paul kissed his head, “and you can help me teach him how to walk and swim.”

"And hows to throw Woody's balls?"

“That too.”

Connor let out a big yawn once the black German Shepherd did the same, unphased by the mention of balls.

“And then, when you’re both older, you can talk about girls.”

“Yuk!” CJ pulled a face, “dey has cootsies.”

"You best remember that for now," Paul laughed. "Man, I loved Junior so much pal, I wish he was here for you to meet him. You'd have loved him and he would have spoiled you rotten! Worse than Grumpy does! And Poppy!"

“Did he looks like you?”

"Sorta. He was big like Grumpy, lighter hair, same eyes."

“Nanny says you like Grumpy.”

"Yeah, I guess I am. Jimmy was just bigger."

“I finks yous big.” CJ's voice was getting quieter, his words slipping a little, a sure sign he was well on his way to falling asleep. But Diskant didn’t want to leave him until he was flat out, not tonight.

“I'm bigger than you, but one day you’ll be just as tall.”

"Can I sees him?" He wondered quietly.

“Yup, I’ll show you some photos tomorrow.”

"Okay. You nuggles wif me?"

“Yup. Gonna stay right here until you fall asleep, my little disco ball.”

"Night, Daddy, I lobe you."

“Night, pal. Love you too.”

Paul laid on his side next to Connor on his twin bed. He propped himself up on his elbow using his free hand to lay it across his son's chest. He gently rubbed CJ’s chest in slow circles, a trick he had learnt when he was a baby, one that never failed. And sure enough, two minutes or so later he heard Connor’s soft little snores indicating that the little boy had fallen asleep. Slowly he slipped from the bed and kneeled over his son. "Night, my miracle, I love you."

He kissed CJ’s head, then gestured for Woody to follow and the obedient dog did. They headed downstairs, Woody doing his usual lap or two round the garden whilst Paul checked the rest of the doors and armed the security system. Then he let Woody back in and climbed back up the stairs, his right arm crossing his chest, left hand rubbing slightly at his shoulder.

“Where you sleeping tonight?” He looked down at the ever faithful German shepherd.

With a loll the dog turned to the right and headed right back into Connor's room.

"Thought so," he chuckled. As customary, Woody would start in there and guard the first Disco Ball then he'd end up in the hall listening to Jack for a bit before sleeping on the landing to listen for the entire house. It never failed, the good boy, now much older than when you'd first adopted him, was the best guard dog the family could get.

Paul gently fluffed up the large dog bed which nestled into the corner of the landing for him, before he headed into your room.

As requested, you were naked, and lying under your fresh sheets having just changed them that morning. Your hair was up off your face and you still watched television.

With a smirk, Paul whipped his shirt over his head and shed his jeans and boxers in a matter of seconds. You looked at him, eyes raking up his body, as he crawled under the sheets to join you. He took the remote from you, clicked the tv off and tossed it down on the night stand.

"Well hello," you giggled as he was quickly caging you in.

“Hey, beautiful.” His lips softly met yours, “you seen my wife anywhere?”

"Mmmmm, nope." You popped the 'p'.

“Good, because between me and you, she can be real territorial.” And

"So can I," you smirked and nipped at his chin.

Then Paul shifted his weight more to his right, rolling his left shoulder a little as he bent to kiss you again. You took the kiss, your hand gently sliding up to that ever present scar. “Your shoulder hurting?”

"Yeah, been giving me some trouble today," he admitted.

“Want me to give it a rub?”

"Sure, Sugar." He rolled to his back and looked at you with dark eyes, "but only if you let me fill you up while you do it."

You laughed as you moved, straddling him, “what’s the rush, Stud? It’s only just gone eight.”

"I just wanna feel you 'round me is all. I wanted you naked, now I want you, Sugar."

“What is it you say to Ceej about not always getting what you want, huh?”

"Fine, what is it you want, Y/N? Tell me...."

You leaned down, your lips brushing his, “same as you, I just like watchin’ you squirm every now and then.”

"Get on up here then, show me."

“I’m already up here,” you grinned, your pelvis brushing his as you kissed him again.

“No, I meant up here,” he jerked his head.

"Oh, Detective Diskant, it's one of those nights?"

“Gotta warm you up, Sugar.”

With a bite to your lip, you crawled forward on your knees and gripped the headboard. "Well...." His hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs as he peeked up at you, your knees settling by his ears, “the last time I tried to stick it in dry, you punched me.”

"Consequences of a second baby," you chuckled.

“Or consequences of your husband not doing his job properly.”

"Never that," you sighed. "You're quite good at it all, just not all right yet. Meds don't help either, it's a side effect."

“Quite? What do you mean, quite?” He scoffed, “I happen to be an exceptional lay.”

"Yes, yes you are," you dropped a hand and ran your nails over his slightly longer locks before scratching behind his ear and down his check, your thumb running over his stubble before your fingers danced over his scar.

Paul’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft hum escaping him before his fingers curled round your hips and pulled you forward, causing you to yelp a little.

"Whatcha want, Stud?"

“You to sit on my face.”

You dropped your hips just a little, enough for him to have his way, your hands again at the headboard.

“Good girl, Sugar.” He crooned, before his mouth set to you.

You gasped as he found every valley in your folds, his hot tongue laving and the tip of it poking into your hole, shifting between kitten licks to your clit and his nose running along it. His lips covered your seam and puckered around your sensitive bud. It didn't take long for you to start rocking your hips over his rough stubble, adding an extra sensation. All the while Paul's hands remained curled around your thighs. He moved his head, side to side, the sensations of him effectively rubbing his face into your most intimate parts had you whispering his name.

"Yeah baby," he spoke against your skin, "you gonna cum for me already, I can feel it."

He was right. In an embarrassingly, but not totally unexpected, short amount of time, he had you gripping the headboard as your body trembled with your orgasm.

"Ohhhhh, Sugar," he chuckled sinfully, "thassmygirl."

“Fuck, Stud…” you took a deep breath, “Jesus…”

"Warmed up, honey?" He kissed at your thighs, his tongue still dragging up your skin.

“Yeah…” you rose to your knees and shuffled back a little, leaning down to kiss him. You could taste yourself on him, smell yourself on his skin but you didn’t care.

“Shit, baby I need you,” he groaned into the loss, his large hands cupping your face.

You reached between your bodies and took him in your hands, guiding him and lining his head up with your slit. Paul gave a little thrust as you slipped your knees a little wider apart to drop down over him, his cock slipping right in.

He groaned, head falling back as he looked up at you, hands sliding up your ribs. “Fuck, look at you. So beautiful, Mama.”

You dropped your head a little, unable to hide the smirk. You didn't always feel that beautiful but he'd make it so you'd feel it every time he said it.

“Look at me, Sugar.” He tipped his pelvis up, grinding into you.

You dropped your chin so your eyes could meet his as your hands fell to his tattooed chest, his latest ink, Jack's name freshly healed under your fingers. "Fuck, that's good," you whimpered as his angle hit you deep.

“I love you, baby.” He rutted into your again, hands gripping your hips and keeping you locked onto him. “So, so much.”

"I love you, Disco," you whispered back, bending at your neck to kiss him with a slow fervor. "I'm gonna love you forever, Stud."

“Good, coz there’ll never be anyone else for me.” His hand slid into your hair, keeping your face pressed to his.

"Never, baby, never... Ugh... Ever." Your thighs were quaking against his hips.

“Gonna give me another one?” His eyes flashed, a smirk curling over his lips as his nose bumped yours.

"Yeah... Yes, oh God yes," you moaned.

“Cum for me, Sugar, come on…”

A silent scream fell from your lips as they closed into a whispered 'oh' as his encouragement made your second release hit you harder than the first. Already fucked out, you collapsed over him, your breasts brushing over his chest as he kept his hips up.

“Oh, baby.” He chuckled a little, his hands sliding up your back. “You okay?”

Wordlessly, you nodded and burried your face into his left shoulder, your tongue and lips mouthing over his spot, his scar.

His own mouth kissed your forehead, before he sat up, and rolled you onto your back. His hands took yours, pinning them either side of your head.

Your eyes kept on his, "take what you need."

“Just need you,” he thrust into you, “always you.”

"Yeah," your back dragged along the sheets as he stuffed you, pulled out and thrusted in again. "Oh, shit, that's so good, Paul."

His hips languidly rolled into yours, nothing rushed or hurried about his actions. Your hands gently dragged down his back, nails softly scraping at his skin causing him to groan, his head dropping to yours.

"Fuck, Sugar," he whimpered himself, "my girl. My baby mama." He was close, you could feel him throbbing against your walls, "made for me... Every way..."

“Only you,” your lips kissed the underneath of his jaw, teeth gently nipping at his whiskers, “my Disco.”

"Oh, fuck, honey...." Paul's hips sped up just a little, a long dirty grind added at the end. "I'm so close, Sugar."

You hiked your legs up, ankles locking at the bottom of his back, heels digging into his ass. You urged him to take what he wanted, your mouth resting by his ear. You could hear his grunts and soft little whimpers as his hips started to go sloppy. “Let go, Stud.”

His hands curled into your hair and his lips covered yours as he came, his entire body rumbling over you and inside you, his spend filling you and giving you a delightful warmth you never got tired of.

“Oh, daddy stud.” You kissed him softly, a smile on your face as he let out a chuckle.

"Always so good, Sugar," his nose bumped yours then his forehead gently pressed against your own. "I love you, Mrs Disco."

“I love you too, now…” you kissed him softly, before your hand gently tapped his arm. “Lay on your front and I can give your shoulder a massage.”

"You're gonna have to gimme a second," he snorted.

“How bad is it?” You asked, your hands now dancing up his biceps.

"Sore," he kissed you and pulled back, his body leaving yours. He slipped from the bed and extended his hand to yours. "C'mon, the boys are out cold, let's take a bath."

“Okay,” you smiled softly as you allowed him pull you up.

After your long bath, and a check on a still sleeping Jack, Disco was led flat out on your bed, his lower half in his sleep pants and his face burried I to his pillow. "I see you've already assumed the position."

He chuckled, “not our first dance, Sugar.”

"And it won't ever be our last." You straddled his hips and kissed between his shoulder blades. “So, how did you put it out this time?” You asked, your fingers sliding over his skin, gently pressing at the sore point. It was always the same; the junction of his neck would get tight and tense thanks to the scar tissue deep inside the muscle.

"Winning today's bear," he mumbled with a grunt into the pillow.

“Oh, Disco.” You sighed, keeping your movements light for the time being to allow him to get used to it. “Well, he’s happy with that bear, he was hugging it before.”

"Rough day for him, breaks my heart and kills me to get on him like I did."

“I know but-sorry,” you hastily apologised as Paul hissed when you hit a particularly knotty part, “he did push it too far. I know we’ve been trying to understand and accommodate but…” you sighed, “he apologised and we talked. I think we’ll be okay.”

"We will." He groaned.

“How did it go telling him about Junior?”

"Oh honey, that was... That was special." Paul turned his head so he could talk better. "He listened, he asked questions, he was as understanding and receptive as he could be for his age."

“He’s a smart little guy,” you smiled, your fingers now moving in circles. “I’m glad you had that moment, Stud.”

"One of many, and then we'll have them with Jack." He then hummed as his shoulder relaxed a little. "Ugh."

“I felt that,” you chuckled.

“You got magic hands, Sugar.”

"Your mouth is magic," you leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“You know it baby,” he grinned

You were just about to dig in a little deeper when Jack's little whimpers were heard over the monitor. You waited a moment to see if he'd go back out but instead he wailed. "He's not hungry, it's his mouth."

“I’ll go,” Paul offered.

"I got it, babe," you hopped off his lower back. "It might be a while."

“Bring him in here,” Paul flipped over and shuffled up. “He can snuggle with us.”

"Okay." You sighed and left the master and to the room next to yours, Jack's room.

In seconds, he was in your arms as you hushed him and soothed him. You changed him and brought him in with you only to find an extra little boy already in your bed led into his daddy's side.

"I guess it's a slumber party, huh?" You giggled.

Disco looked at you, and simply shrugged.

Connor sat up a little in your bed, "does you hafta feeds him?"

"No baby, his teeth just hurt."

“Oh,” he paused and then made to speak but stopped.

“What’s up?” Paul looked at him, “you can say it, whatever it is, we won’t be angry.”

"Can I holds him?”

You couldn't help the short gasp that came from your chest. It marked you speechless, and so you nodded.

“Assume the position, Junior Officer Diskant.” Paul grinned as he sat up and fluffed the pillows, placing one over CJ’s lap so he could rest his arms on them with Jack supported.

You caught Paul’s eye, and he beamed at you. This was the first time CJ had asked to hold his baby brother in weeks

"Remember, he's older and heavier now, more squiggly." Paul added, as he still smiled at you, the tears in your eyes visible.

“Yups, I got it.” CJ nodded as you placed Jack down in his arms. "Shhhh, Jack-Jack, it's okay. Don't c-whys."

At the sound of his brother’s voice, the wailing Jack was making stopped and he looked up at CJ, his blue eyes wide. And then a smile spread across his pudgy cheeks.

Connor looked at you and grinned, "he's no crying!"

No, Jack wasn't, but you sure were.

“You got the magic touch, buddy.” Paul smiled at him.

Connor looked down at Jack and whispered to him while Paul looked to you, reached behind your sons and gently grabbing your forearm for a squeeze. He sent a wink your way and just like that, all was as it should be in the Diskant household.

**** Chapter 16

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant fan fiction #paul diskant x you #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant #street kings #street kings fan fic #chris evans characters

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quicksilvrxx · 2 years ago

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Headcannon:

Little!Raihan being completely infatuated with Lance.

-He constantly re-watches all of Lance's battles, much to Leon's exasperation and minor jealousy that the dragon master has easily stolen his spot as Raihan's favourite.

-"Lee! Did'ya see that? Did'ya? Did'ya?!"

-Raihan will not and does not shut up about Lance.

-He has spent countless hours talking about the greatness of Lance and his dragon-type Pokémon, that if the champion was present, Lance's ego would only skyrocket.

-"Lee! Lance is super coooool, lookie!"

-Leon has slowly started glaring daggers into the dragon masters soul every chance he gets at a champion meeting. Even though many of the other champion's have noticed his odd behaviour, he ignored them.

-Leon never understood how or why Lance has three Dragonites.

-"Lee! Did'ya know Lance has f'ee d'agonites?"

-Eventually, one thing leads to another and Leon begins taking small videos and photos of Raihan happily babbling about Lance and his gloriousness.

-He sends them specifically to the other champions, apart from Lance, keeping it a secret. The others soon understand Leon's behaviour, seeing the exasperation each video.

-'Leon sent a video'

-"Rai, who do you love the most?"

-"Mmm, Lance."

-At the next Champion meeting, they organised a game, which left Lance confused. It wasn't until a blindfolded, regressed Raihan entered the room that the game initiated.

-Simple questions were asked, such as his favourite colour and food, before the most memorable came up.

-"Rai, who's your most favourite trainer in the world?"

-"Das an easy one, Lee, Lance!"

-"Cause he super st'ong ands he likes d'agon types too. Oo, he gots f'ee d'agonites, did'ya know that? And he a champion likes you, and Dan'fa, and Cyn'sia, and Stevie! Oh oh! He gets rid of bad guys wiv his Pokémon and he has a red Gadados-"

-To say the least, Lance's ego skyrocketed.

-The moment Raihan was un-blindfolded and saw Lance's figure, he panicked and immeidately hid underneath the table.

-"Oh, so now you shut up about Lance?"

#pokemon agere #raihan.lab #lance.lab #pokemon

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onlyseokmins · 2 years ago

Note

too lazy to log in to my actual acc but ur jeonghan airport posts... so right so true

just know i want to suck him off so bad and that if you're bratty or pushing his limits, doing it when he's working on paperwork or in a last minute meeting he'd be so mean, pushing you down further. and when you're done?

well you're getting edging and fucked to tears, where you can only babble "hannie" and "please" and tug on his hair in attempt to stay grounded as he Wrecks u

-rose

Fucking hell miss rose I knew when you liked the post you were agreeing in good taste but I didn't know you'd torture me w/ it too ✈️ I'm only joining the mile high club if it's w/ him then. No ifs, ands, or buts abt it

#I'm winded #Literally took the air out of me ma'am #I'M JUMPING OUT OF PLANE RN INTO HIS LAP #(S)CREAMING #rose 🥀#ez.mootz #ez.thots #hannie.thots #svt.thots

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backtothefanfiction · 4 years ago

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WHAT BENNY DOESN'T KNOW | Chapter 6

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: Things get heated on the mountainside then five months later Santiago knocks on your door asking for a favour.

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3997

A/N- Hey guys thank you so much for your love on this series, after the heaviness of the last chapter this one is more story development for how we ended up at chapter 1. It's split into three parts; the boys interaction on the side of the mountain, Santiago coming to your flat to ask for a favour and you meeting with Frankie in a diner to collect on that favour for Santi. This is the second to last chapter and I am currently working on the final chapter so we can end this story and Friday on a high! In the meantime I hope you enjoy.

PART SIX | TRIPLE FRONTIER

Without you, the mission had become a shit show. Five days full of reckless testosterone clouded decisions that had lead to them trekking across the Andes, millions of dollars literally being lost over the side of a cliff, three different gunshot wounds between the group and multiple dead bodies; including Tom's. The sun had almost fully set now, just a dull hazy glow on the horizon as Santiago, Will and Frankie lay back against the bags of money, waiting for the younger Miller to return. The tension was thick between them and not just because of the multiple fuck ups or the fact they had lost a friend.

Each one of them had brought up your name at some point during this trip, wondering if things would have been different if you had been there. A strong team of six instead of five. Santiago had watched Frankie subtly flinch, every time he heard your name and although he himself wished you had been there, he could clearly see now why you had said no. He still didn't completely know what had happened between you and Frankie other than what he found out that one night in Italy; but he knew if you had been on this mission with them right now, the team would be even weaker, not stronger.

“I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?” Frankie's voice said strongly, breaking the stoic silence that had befallen the three men since Benny had left their company.

“Yeah.” Santiago murmured, acknowledging the statement.

“We gotta get back on our game.” Frankie said. “Enough of this. It stops now. You Understand?”

“Copy that.” Santiago replied.

Frankie had ended up spending more time than he thought he would thinking about you these last few days. Even with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt odd to him doing a job like this without you. Over the years and countless missions you had all worked together, you had become a partner to him. His co-pilot, the one who always had his six. The absence of you only served to remind him of how fucked up things were between you now. He felt himself tense anytime one of the boys said your name. He spoke with a venom, anytime he was dragged into a conversation about you. That was until he lost a mule over the side of the mountain.

The rocks had given way bellow the animals feet and he had watched helplessly as it fell to its death, bags of money exploding as they hit rocks. His own mortality truly hit him then. His mind raced to images of his daughter and Laura but then they turned to you and that's where they stayed. Tom's death a day later had only reinforced those thoughts more. If he died on this godforsaken mountain before he had a chance to talk to you and sort everything out, it would be the biggest regret of his life. He needed them all to get back on their A game. He needed to get back to you.

“Why did she say no to the job?” Will's question permeated the silence. It was a question that had been on his mind since the very beginning and one Santiago had tried to avoid and work around the whole mission. Santiago remained quiet, trying to work out the best way to respond.

“Because of me.” Frankie's confession rang out. Will sat up then, looking at Frankie confused, silently asking him to elaborate. Santiago's gaze had also turned to Frankie, but it was a soft look, one of pride that his friend wanted to face up to his demons instead of run from them. Frankie's look back to Santiago was a desperate cry for help. Although he knew they all needed to get this out in the open so they could work better as a team, he also was struggling with how to say it.

“He was sleeping with her.” Santiago tried to say as gently as he could. Although he knew the relationship between you and Frankie had been fucked up, he also knew you were both hopelessly in love with one another, which was what had made things between you so much more complicated.

“Wait. What?” Will stuttered out in shock. “When?”

“About 11 months ago.” Frankie quietly confessed. Will gave Frankie a hard look as he realised he was telling him he had cheated on his partner with you. “Look, I know.” Frankie said in response to the stare, “It wasn't exactly my finest moment.”

“How long for?” Will questioned.

“A couple of months. She broke things off when she found out Laura was pregnant. That's why she took that job in Italy.” Santiago's mind raced as he remembered back to the night he spent with you in Italy, his head dropping sheepishly. He thought if he kept his head low, he'd get away with not having the Italy conversation with Frankie but he was wrong. Frankie had recognised the look on Pope's face and the fact his was currently staring away from them at the rock in front of him, just told him how guilty his friend felt.

Will had watched the exchange, analysing the looks between the two men before him. “What happened in Italy?” he asked, suspecting there was something about your time over seas that they were both privy to and hiding from him.

“Why were you in Italy with her Pope?” Frankie doubled down.

“I went to her first to talk about the job.” Santiago said, only giving half the truth. Frankie fixed him with a hard look, forcing him to elaborate. He wanted to know how that fucking phone call had come about. “Look she wasn't answering my messages so I got on a plane, went over there and-” his sentence hung awkwardly in the air a moment as he tried to decide how to carry on. “Look, I thought that if I got rid of the guy she would be free to come back with me and do the job, but she got mad at me.” Frankie and Will listened intensely as Santiago continued to babble. “Look I did some things and she said some shit to get back at me. Look man I didn't know.” He looked desperately to Frankie.

“But even after you did find out you still fucked her, right?” Frankie's voice bit back. It was more of a statement than a question.

“I'm sorry man, but you should have seen her face.” Santiago felt his cock twitch just at the memory alone. “She freaking begged me Fish.” Santi's voice pleaded, trying to get his friend to understand. Will scoffed in disbelief over the conversation they were having. “Hey.” Santiago said rounding on him, “You would have done exactly the same thing if you were there. You're just bitter because you only got to fuck her the once.”

“HEY!” Frankie's voice cut across Pope.

“No, you don't get to act like you're her knight in shining armour right now and defend her honour, not when you used her like you did.” Santiago snapped back at Frankie.

“I didn't use her.” Frankie attempted to defend himself.

“You fucking snorted coke off her body, fucked her, then went back home to continue playing house with your actual girlfriend. If that's not using her-”

“I told her I fucking loved her and that I wanted to leave Laura, that I was gonna get clean for her and she fucking cut and run on me man.” There was silence as the weight of Frankie's statement hung in the air between them. When Frankie spoke again, breaking the silence, his voice was softer, curious. “Did you make her?” He didn't want to ask but he needed to know. The 60 second phone call had played continuously on a loop around his head ever since it had happened, the words haunting him.

“Yes.” Santiago's voice was timid and he struggled to look at his friend. “If it helps, she really tried to fight it man. I think she liked that it had been your thing.”

“What?” Will questioned, confused by the ambiguous conversation his friends were having in front of him. “What did you make her do?” His voice was worried, protective. Both Frankie and Santiago struggled to meet Will's eyes. “What did you make her do?” he asked again his voice demanding an answer.

“I'm sorry man.” Santiago said.

“He made her squirt.” Frankie said at the same time. Will's expression was one of reserved surprise.

“Wait you both?” Will asked, looking for clarity.

“Yeah.” Santiago said. There was a silence again as the information set in.

Something Santiago had said was weighing on Frankie. “What do you mean she begged you?” Frankie asked him timidly.

“She's been torturing herself man. She feels so guilty about everything that happened, she's just looking for a way she can live with herself.”

“What did you do?” Frankie asked, he was scared of the answer but wanted to know, his own form of punishment.

“Tied her to the bed and edged her to within an inch of her life.” Santiago's statement was slightly rushed and guilty. Will fought to remain silent as he began to picture the scene in his head.

“Did it help? Did it make her feel better afterwards?” Frankie continued to question.

“She's in love with you man.” Santiago said softly. “Those feelings aren't just gonna go away. She's gonna be carrying them around with her for the rest of her life. She's always gonna be stuck wondering what would have happened if things were different. Wondering if there ever would have been a way for you guys.” Santiago's statement left everyone silent once more. None of them brought it up again, but they couldn't stop thinking about it.

---------------------

It had been 5 months since you had come home from Italy. 5 months since the boys came back from their trip to South America. Will and Ben had escorted Tom's body back to the states and broken the news to Molly. They stayed with her as she broke the news to her girls and made a point of being there for them whenever they needed.

For 5 months, Will and Benny were the only company outside your family that you saw, but even then you didn't see them as often. None of you met up as a group again. You hadn't even heard from Santiago, that was until he showed up on your doorstep late one Saturday afternoon. “Hey Querida, I need your help.”

You reluctantly let him in, ushering him inside your small apartment. “What do you want Santi?” you asked as you continued to hover near the front door.

“I've got this job-”

“Nope, no way.” you quickly cut in. “After what happened in South America, I don't think so. Besides I thought that was supposed to be your last job. You said you were retiring.” you folded your arms across your chest defensively.

“I know, I know. But this isn't like that job.”

“Are you determined to burn every friendship you've ever had?” you spat at him, a warning to choose his next words very carefully. Will and Benny had told you everything when they got home. Both of them were shells of the men they once were, it almost pained you to be around.

Santiago collapsed onto the sofa, his head hung in his hands. “I know I fucked up.” he said slowly. “It was a shit job. I wanted to be able to just let it go and move on but I can't. I can't let that be the last job I did. The last thing that defines my career for me.” You softened at the broken man's words.

“What's the job?” you tentatively asked him.

“Corrupt cop.” he said, finally lifting his head from his hands.

“What?” you questioned slightly shocked. You had not been expecting that but you were immediately invested and Santiago knew it.

“He's based along the border between Columbia and Brazil. Been taking bribes and working with the cartels down there for years. With Lorea out of the way he's kind of stepped up to the plate behind the scenes, but he's nothing without his money.”

“So it's just getting the money, then getting back out.”

“Yes.”

“I'm assuming because he's a corrupt cop this is all gonna be done off the books.”

“That's why I need the team. The whole team.”

“They'll never go for it. Not if it's coming from you.” Santi looked at you then, his eyes pleading. You could read his mind without having him say it. “No.”

“They'll do it for you.” he said getting up.

“No, I'm not lying to them.”

“Please.” he said placing his hands on your arms. His eyes were desperate, “I need this.” You couldn't help but look at him with pity. He was far from the man who had teased you in Italy just a few months back. You could see the effects of his last failed mission clear on his face and his body. The dark circles under his eyes from nights of restless sleep. The extra patches of grey scattered amongst his dark curls. All he wanted was one last good job so he could rest in peace and think back on the glory days with fondness. He needed an excuse to make things right with his friends.

“Fine.” you reluctantly agreed. “But if they are gonna believe this is my job, you are gonna have to really let me take charge of this. You gotta give me everything you know.”

------------------

Getting Will and Benny to agree had been easy. You had brought it up over beers one Sunday afternoon. They hated corrupt cops as much as you and Santi and although they had been a little apprehensive when you told them Santiago was also going to be on the mission, they still agreed to go anyway for you. Frankie on the other hand was probably going to be a little trickier.

You asked him to meet you at a local diner on a Saturday morning. The sun was streaming through the windows onto your little booth. You couldn't tell if it was just the heat from the sun, shining through the glass making you feel like you were in a green house or just your anxiety at seeing Frankie for the first time since he had told you he loved you, but you felt like you were suffocating. You were contemplating abandoning this whole thing and bolting for the door when he finally walked in, the little bell ringing out, drawing your focus to him.

He looked good. He was wearing his favourite t-shirt, an unbuttoned shirt thrown over the top, the sleeves of which were rolled up, showing off his muscular arms. You became aware you were staring and quickly dropped your eyes to the half full cup of coffee, that now sat cold in your hands in front of you.

“Hey.” he said as he approached the table. You looked up at him, your nerves clear on your face.

“Hey.” your voice came out unsure. You wished you could just put on a fake smile and pretend like everything was okay, but the guilt monster that had grown attached to you since you last saw each other wouldn't let you.

He shuffled into the booth across from you as a waitress came over with a pot of coffee. You eagerly held out your own mug for a top up while Frankie flipped over the cup in front of him. “A stack of blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon?” the young girl questioned Frankie as she poured coffee into his cup.

“Actually no, I already ate.” he replied shooting her a forced half smile.

“Very well.” the younger girl said. “Anything for yourself sweetie?” she turned to ask you.

“Umm, no thank you, the coffee's fine.” you said, raising the cup in your hand as you said it.

“Very well then.” the waitress said with an exaggerated smile.

“Thanks Candace.” Frankie said as she walked away.

“Candace? Blueberry pancakes and bacon?” you questioned Frankie once she was out of earshot.

“Yeah. I got in the habit of coming in after early NA meetings.” he told you, his fingers twisting the mug of coffee in his hands as he waited on your response.

“You look good Frankie.” you said, finally being able to find a smile for him. His eyes met yours, they were hopeful, soft. It made you wonder what had happened to him in South America that had him come out of the trip looking far less scathed than the others. You assumed it had something to do with coming back alive for his little girl, a reminder to live the best life he could with her.

“Thank you.” he said. “You look good too.” you could tell by the way he said it that he meant it, even if you didn't feel like it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie had smiled fondly when your name had popped up on his phone asking him to meet you. After everything that had happened in South America he had been eager to contact you but he had a few things he needed to deal with first.

He had broken things off with Laura as soon as he'd gotten home. They had sat down and had a long conversation, Frankie coming clean about all of it. He expected her to be furious, to scream the house down, throw all of his stuff out onto the front lawn and tell him he couldn't see their daughter ever again; but she surprised him when she told him she had known he was in love with you all along. He moved into the spare bedroom while he looked for a place of his own and made an effort to regularly talk and work out the situation. He was so grateful when she told him he could see Lilah as often as he wanted and he ended up spending a lot of his free time at the house with her, not wanting to miss a single moment as she continued to grow.

“I know after the shit show that was Santiago's job you'll probably want to say no, but I need your help on a job. They other guys are already in, I just need my pilot, my mission partner.” you said trying to lay it on thick.

“I'm in.”

He had said it without hesitation. He'd do anything for you, even if it meant trekking across the Andes again. “Wait, you don't want me to tell you what the job is?”

“It doesn't matter. You need me, I'm all in.” he said leaning back into the booth. “Besides if you've gotten the other guys to agree...” he left the statement open as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips. A silence fell between the two of you. Now you had gotten out all you had to say, you didn't know how to proceed in conversation.

“How old is she now?” you found yourself asking. It was more torturing yourself actually.

“Just over 7 months.” he replied. He held up a finger to you, instructing you to wait as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a small photo of her that was tucked into one of the slots, handing it across the table to you.

You tried to keep your fingers steady as you looked at the picture. She was beautiful and definitely Frankie's kid. “She has your eyes.” you found yourself saying, softening at the image of the little girl who had changed everything.

You couldn't help but wonder, if things had been different, if you and Frankie had gotten together all those years ago. Would you have your own baby by now? Would they have inherited his eyes like this little girl in the picture had, or would they have gotten yours? Then you wondered, if you hadn't run away when Frankie had told you about her, would you have been able to stick around and love her? To be her second mom and raise her with Frankie and Laura.

You quickly handed the photo back, no longer able to look at it or deal with the thoughts that were now swimming around your head. “Yeah, I'm just grateful she didn't get my nose.” Frankie said as he slotted the photo back into his wallet with a fond smile.

“Is she crawling yet?” you asked.

“Oh that girl is such an over achiever.” he chuckled fondly. “She was trying to stand at 3 months, even though her little legs were no where near ready for that. You'd have to fight to get her to relax them to feed.” You couldn't help but smile at the image of Frankie trying to wrestle a fussy baby to sit in his arms properly so he could feed her.

The way he looked at you changed then, like he was sad you hadn't been there, like he had really wanted you to be there with him. He had. There had been so many late nights he'd spent up with his little girl in his arms, wishing you were there. Wishing that she had been yours. He was about to open his mouth and try to tell you everything he had wanted to say since being on that mountain, but you became distracted when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up, telling you both you had a text message from Santiago.

You reached for the phone and Frankie's chest sagged, it felt like a hole had just opened up in his chest and was suddenly being filled with all his self doubt. 'He'd waited too long. You and Santiago were probably a thing now.' were the main two thoughts that began echoing through his head. “I'm really sorry, I've got to head off.” you said, rooting around in your bag for your purse so you could pay for your coffee.

“Oh okay.” Frankie said back, slightly defeated.

“Umm, I'll send you over all the information for the job.” you said quickly as you climbed out of the booth while trying to send a quick reply to Santiago to let him know you were on your way.

“Yeah of course.” Frankie said also getting up, to see you off properly.

His action caught you off-guard and you almost walked into his chest as you looked up from the phone in your hand. You both froze. You softened as you looked up into his eyes, then slowly let them wander down to his lips. You really wished you could lean forward and kiss him right now. You came to your senses, clearing your throat and taking a step backwards, blushing.

“It was great to see you Frankie.” you quickly said. “Oh and thank you for saying yes to the job.”

“Uh yeah, no problem.” he said, hooking his fingers into his pockets. He wanted to touch you, to hug you or something, anything, but the way you had stepped back from him, made him feel like he couldn't. You both stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

You felt your phone buzz in your hand. You looked down at it, another message from Santiago. “Umm, I've got to go.” your voice was barely above a whisper. Before you realised you had done it, you leant forward and placed a light kiss on Frankie's cheek. You felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards as he began to smile, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. You knew that if you did look, it would remind you of everything you missed out on with him. Instead you did the same thing as you did last time you were with him, you walked away and you didn't look back.

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