river, moon (frank x reader) part 5
teacher frank x single mom reader bet you never saw this coming. did you. I know you didn't. HA FINAL PART OF RIVA MOOOOONNN TW: sex. lols, jk romance and love Elsie May is still the funniest girl alive. yeah this is the fluffiest thing ill ever write and it was hard to do but now it is done. wc/ idfk but over 5000 someone sedate me.
he's up before you are, well. elsie may is up first. she knocks on your door every morning around 7am, and today is no exception. she peaks her head through- and there you are. face smushed into franks pec- elsie doesn't shout. doesn't scream with excitement or fear- she just. walks over to the bed- climbing up to sit on the side next to where Frank is taps his hand lightly.
“Frankie-uhm, good. Good morning?” “Well it looks like it-it is-is bug,-“ his voice is groggy, body stretching out from sleep. You’re out like a light- nothing could shake you in the morning anymore except the high pitch squeals of your daughter- you’ve learned to value sleep. Elsie moves closer to you both- and whispers- trying not to wake you- “we uh, we make pancakes on weekends. I don’t-you should come check if we have, have enough”
Frank rubs a palm over his face, smiling wide at your daughter’s passive polite-ness. When he shifts up- he moves you off him with grace, shifting a pillow under your head and throwing on one of you oversized grey t-shirts. “Let’s get it-get it moving kiddo-“ elsie jumps of the bed, reaching behind her blindly to grab at franks hand. He takes it and lets himself be tugged along.
When they reach the kitchen island, elsie makes a show of climbing up the bar stool and sitting kindly, like an acrobat completing a full back turn. She rubs her small palms against the wood table top- and looks at frank with the analysing gaze he has seen you graze him with over 30 times. “You uhm. Well-“ frank lets her find her words. It should be easy enough to explain, but it doesn’t really feel that way.
Frank wishes to a certain extent, that he could give elsie the gift of age so she could listen and comprehend everything he wishes he could say. He wishes he could say- ive fallen deeply for your mother. I want to be her partner- and move into the position of a man you look up to in your life. I want the commitment, the constant understanding. I want to pick you up from school- and drive your mom to work. I want to make pancakes every weekend- I want you to tell me the truth. Do you think im good enough for you mother? Do you think i’m good enough for you?
But she’s three, well three and two quarters, and she wouldn’t understand a lick of that. She couldn’t have an emotional understanding of you and him past the question of : why is there a man hanging out in my house? So instead. He waits patiently- and busies himself, shaking pancake mix with cream and water while she ponders over him.
After around 14 minutes of intensive eye-contact. She slaps a hand on the table and whispers to herself, mainly. “You like like mama.” And frank nods. Then nods again to see her reaction. She looks like a lightbulb just went off in her scalp. And then climbs back down from the barstool- less-gracefully than she did on the way up- and rushes around the island to stand by franks leg. “We good little lady?”. And once more, elsie may is three years old. So she does what she would think best to do. She kicks frank in the calf as hard as she physically can-“hey- ow bug what the-“ she kicks again, her face glowing red with tension. “Bug-hey kid we don’t kick, quit-“ she kicks one more time, with less force due to the physical exertion. To punctuate- she moves to hold onto his leg as tightly as possible- tears welling in her eyes and she mumbles into him “be-benice to -be, be nice to mama, be nice, okay?” And frank stops his pancake making actions- and kneels to face her on the ground. Holding her in return as she has a small collapse of judgement.
He helps her breathe easy, calming her down as he analyses his next actions. He does what he would do, in class or in this home. He lifts a heavy breathing elsie may onto his hip- and continues making pancakes. She calms down in around 3 minutes after she watches frank flip a pancake one handed. Cool trick.
“You know im nice, hm bug?’ And she nods small, grabbing at the grey shirt he is wearing. “Ill always be nice, to you and your mama-“ and she grumbles again, moving to struggle against him. But frank isn’t stupid. He holds on tight, and explains easy- “you can tell me, when im not doing a good job-you are allowed-allowed to tell me- exactly what you think” and she stops moving. Nods once, then twice, then a third time. “I think-think you make pancakes weird-“ frank laughs as he moves to flip over the next three. He turns on the radio- and bounces elsie may on his hip just to hear her giggle.
What wakes you however, is both The ronettes blasting though the radio as elsie and frank dance around the kitchen, plus the abrupt giggle of your daughter. Not to mention the patch of heat next to you where frank once was. You panic, that frank sprinted first thing in the morning. No note, no notion of enjoyment or even regret- but then you hear his laugh too- girlish and sweet. As he joins a debate with your daughter about the best character in my little pony. You try and chuck on your house robe, and sneak to bathroom before you’ve been noticed. But the idiom you are your mothers daughter works both ways. She can hear you fumbling around the bedroom- and almost breaks down the door with glee- “mama-MAMA! Frankie can, flip-flip pancakes and he’s teasing me-me about rarity-tell me you-hey mama, cmon-frankie’s here-he” she moves close, pulls you down to whisper by your ear with pure, naive secrecy “he likes you mama-“ and she smiles so big you worry about the state of her cheeks.
Walking into the room, you’re almost shocked by how frank fits into the bare-wood style of your kitchen. He looks like a part of the furniture. Like he was moved in with the boxes on boxes of crap you moved from three towns over. He smiles, dances around- figuring out your tricky kitchen radio- your chef’s grade oven, your non-stick by slightly sticky pans. He just knows, he knows a lot. You let yourself sit with that shock, revel in it. fuck. Fuck shit cunt. Its fine, its all fine. It will be fine. frank finds your eyeline and looks at you awkwardly. Smiling wide as he points to a stack of far too many pancakes. He shrugs and then mumbles “I don’t think we can date if your fave pony is rarity-“ and you laugh so hard you nearly fall over.
Breakfast again, is shockingly easy. It’s filled with easy debates and quick remarks about chores, you say the words washing and elsie shouts “ew!’ Like she’s seen a massive spider. But frank again just, fits in. He laughs along to Elsies remarks- and draws attention to you when its time to listen. It’s nothing like elsie’s father. It’s the perfect opposite. When elsie has completed her second half pancake- she moves to drag frank over to the couch to watch a succession of episodes of a web-short about monster high dolls. But he pauses just before he leaves the room- grabs the side of the door frame and boyishly smiles at you “can I like, hang today? I just-“ what did you think you were doing today? And he smiles and nods again. “Oh- yeah. Duh-okay” And he is forced into he terrible comfort of your couch.
Frank, for once in his life, naps first on that Saturday afternoon- falling asleep after his third episode of clawdeen wolf’s hi-jinx. You’re the first to notice- his short puffs of breath and sweet sleepy smile- so you go sit by elsie may to keep her company. It’s a lot of excitement for the little lady. We good miss ma’am? “Yeah mama we fine, is-is uhm. Frankie kay?” You laugh, pulling the little on your lap so you can hold her close, keep her warm. Yeah sugar, he’s just sleepy-you should nap too yknow- “I never seen, can teachers nap?” You betcha baby, I think frankie naps all the time “oh my gosh”
You laugh as you pick her up to sit on your hip and carry her to bed, nap time is easy with frankie as the example, she’s out half way through your story- mumbling “mjus’ like frankie”. You move to the kitchen.
Frank sleeps for around another 20 minutes- then is shocked awake quick and wrong- “shit-SHIT”you laugh from the kitchen island, looking over the sleep coated man on the couch. You okay? “Yeah-yeah fuck I just- ha. Forgot where I was. Can I” you’re already walking over with a glass of water, and he shrugs himself up- opening his arms so you can sit with him, sit by him and be held close to him. You fall into the position easy- and he just tugs you down into him, drinking the water quick and pulling you into his hold. “Why didn’t yoummnap” he nuzzles his head into yours, smiling into you as he tugs you tighter into him again. Im not-not napping im anadult- “thats fucking stupid-they’re great- look you try, okay? I’ll watch something you just, you take your time to chill. A lot going on.”
You try and struggle away, kick at him a little, hell you even move a hand to cup over his crotch but he bats it away. This motherfucker is serious about his damn nap time. You move into his shoulder. Watching tv through half closed eyes. He pets a hand over your hair, stroking down your neck to trail down your spine. It feels good, it feels warm. You give in to the safety, to the opportunity for rest and kiss franks cheek before you fall asleep. You don’t dream of much, you see shoes of Elsies hair, franks forehead and small burns of cool yellow light. You dream in half volume.
Frank, moving through channel to channel, eventually lands on a music video compilation, clips and tricks of musicians from the 2000’s. But it isn’t that enrapturing. What is, is you. He pulls his fingers through your hair, lets his hand rest over his waist. Its so close, a future that is secured, secluded- perfect. Its so near it feels like it could slip through his fingers at any fucking time. So he stocks a plan during your twenty minutes nap. Easier to rip the bandaid off than sit stewing in pain.
Elsie May- trudges out of bed just before you wake up 45 minutes later- frank motions her over with his hand, but elsie breaks into a full sprint- chanting “mama-mama, mama asleep? Oh-mamam sick?mama!mama-MAMA“ frankie giggles, and pulls her to sit on the opposite hip of you. “Yo, bug its good, mama’s trying out a nap. Look-you wanna go out for dinner tonight?”
You shake awake at the closeness of your daughter- and the utterance of the words dinner, because you prepped a butternut squash ravioli a few nights ago- muttering while stirred we-wehave dinnner-dinnerat home- and frank laughs at your slurred speech. Looking over the two girls before him. Two girls, who he can fit on each hip and not feel like he’s groaning. Two girls that he knows, spiritually, that he feels like he’s known for a lifetime. He strokes a hand down elsie may’s hair, then holds you shoulder in one hand and squeezes tight. “Id buy, I like like you remember?” And its finally elsie may’s turn to blush, and then fake retch while jumping away to get her “serious dress” on. You let the urge over take you, and kiss his cheek to feel his hand squeeze deeper at your shoulder, when elsie may is out of ear shot you whisper I’ll pay- pay you back later? And his cheeks look bruised from the flush he gets.
Elsie may’s serious dress is a navy tartan with a white ruffle trim. You consider matching her, you must have an old plaid dress somewhere. But instead you pick through drawers and drawers of clothes for small black shorts, and a well fitting striped top. Cute, more dressed up than usual. You can hear frank belting loud in the shower, probably using insane amounts of your vanilla body wash. but there’s some big part of you that wouldn’t mind him using it all for the rest of your life. You would buy the extra paper just to see what he writes, take out an earphone to hear what he has to say. That big part of you is time, un-claimed and waiting for him, that time in you, sits alone and impatient.
But thoughts crash, reality hits. It’s a lot. It’s all very quick. As you brush through your hair, staring into your own face-you think about anything, everything. You think about the high-pitched hum of elsie in the hallway. You think about the deep breaths puffing through your chest. Focusing in, focusing on your family, your daughter. You can keep happy forever. Happy is free.
When you walk out of your bedroom, you find frank holding elsie may on his lap- helping her tug on her mary-jane’s. His tongue is sticking out through his teeth and he struggles to hold the small girl still, so you move over to lend a hand. Miss ma’am? Lets sit pretty hm? franks-jus helping. Elsie smiles up at you- reaching out her hands to steady herself by gripping on to you. Frank thanks you both, and nuzzles his head into elsie small shoulder when he’s nearly done. To get her up, he taps her tummy twice and she jumps- giggling all the while.
When you guys finally tumble outside after elsie gets her requested 13 compliments about her pretty dress from frankie, frank runs around to the passenger side of the car to tug your door open. Mumbling sheepishly “well, its’ a date right?”
You laugh in reply. He looks weird driving your car, but you don’t know where the restaurant is, so he leads the way. “This was my mom’s fave place, she used to bring me here-after school if it was hard or whatever. I think you’ll like it- I get a discount sometimes if this nice dude is working, I think he remembers when I used to come in. It-it’s nice. Good tables and shit” frank, don’t swear so loud- “you think I haven’t told off miss may for saying fuck? I think she can take a couple shit’s” she shouts so loud the car rocks “yeah!shits!” Its impossible not to laugh so hard you hit your dashboard, frank giggles along too as you move into the parking lot next to this small converted diner. Its cute, looks semi-old and homey. Frank suits it.
You’re seated quick, and a large man winks at frank as you guys file in. Elsie May is on her best behaviour the whole night, waving hello to people who come into the restaurant. She smiles along and tells you both about plans for next week, and the week after. She needs to go shopping apparently. Needs more dolls, needs a new hair clip. You nod along and remind her that she walks bratney on Sundays. She smiles and explains to frankie you and her take very very good care of the old dog. Frank smiles and asks all of the right questions. When you guys are pleasantly full, you slightly buzzed from the one glass of white wine, elsie may sits and fights sleep at the table. You pick her up and tug her toward the car, frank only having to pay 40 bucks for the whole meal. They must like him so bad.
After elsie is tucked into he back seat, out cold and exhausted. Frank powers up the car and looks over to you softly. You imagine our first date with a little, uh-company? He smiles, rubs the back of his neck and giggles “yeah-yeah kinda. Any-do you like ice cream?” Don’t say it too loud she’ll wake up. He laughs again and starts driving once more.
The drive again is filled with easy, semi-hilarious conversation. Frank remarks about how the dinner is worth it for how cheap it is, you crack a joke about dinner on a teacher salary. His laugh is so easy. So warm and inviting. Then you guys pull into the drive thru of this mom and pop, kinda vintage ice cream parlour. He begs you to trust him with ordering, not in a non-feminist way, just in a this is a date and I want to impress you way. When he hands you a dark chocolate cone with some raspberry thing inside, you colour yourself impressed.
“Me and my mom, we used to do this thing-after dinner, we’d come here, get way to much ice cream and listen through the albums we picked up through out the week. A many as we could get through. It- it was cool.” You nod along, looking over his car curiously. Im trying, trying to do these things with may? We’ve started walking brat together, but me and my mom, we were close- but not like I am with her. I dunno. I feel like, sometimes- ive moved from daughter to mom so-so fast. I mean, I had her at 20. 20? I can’t even remember my 18th birthday. I feel. Feel like i’ve lived 4 lives In the span of 3 years. I miss. I miss like, doing my shit- “like what?” Well, reading. I guess- I am actually a good cook elsie just complains a lot, and fuck I miss like, shopping. I know that sounds vain, and stupid- but I haven’t bought myself something nice in like 2 years I- “what- what would you buy?”
Stunned by his question. You look out the window, then look at the reflection of frank in his car window, penut butter ice-cream leaves a spec on his nose, you really think about it, and then make yourself laugh with the answer. Frank-i want, I want a new pair of shoes.
He stares at you for a moment, looking over the trail of ice cream on your hand. He imagines showing you his admiration, the maze of pent up feelings he has in his gut for you, he considers- speeding home, and writing down every detail you’ve told him today just so he can remember it for a life time. But In the endhe laughs so hard he nearly pukes up all the ice-cream in his gut. Looking over you with a soft, semi-humoured and pathetic face. He starts the car up- nodding in a way to signify home time. As he pulls away, he pats a sticky hand over your thigh and smiles. “We-we can buy you some shoes, man.”
When you get home, he nods toward elsie may’s room, her face smushed into his shoulder- you nod and let him put her to bed. You move into your bedroom before you can change your mind. Facing the window on the other side of the bed. Wringing your hands through your shorts, your hair. It isn’t panic I guess. More so- discomfort. I mean, its not uncomfortable. It’s all hilariously confusing. Its made worse when you can hear him whisper “nigh-night bug-“ to you daughter. And you could be fucking damned if affection isn’t a turn on. When you hear him pad through to your bedroom. You don’t turn around. You face away from him, legs at the edge of the bed, showing minor restraint and control. Its impossible to not demand your want for him, now that you’ve had him already. When you feel his hands grace over your hips, over the lower part of your gut, feel him hum warm and low in his voice box- you force a deep breath through your worried teeth.
“We don’t-dont have too-“ you lean your head back on his shoulder, shaking it slightly in a no, fashion. He smiles, somewhat immediately and presses a kiss into your cheek. He keeps his hands moving as he kisses down your neck, punctuating his sentences “I, I-had a good, great time today-“ you sigh, rolling you hips back into his so you can hear his breath catch, and then feel his hands move over you with more possession. “Ive been, been thinking-“ he runs a hand in-between you and him- hand pressing over the base of your spine so you lean forward. You nod, and let yourself get pushed forward- so you’re bent over the edge of the bed, face pushed into the plush comforter.
“I’ve-been thinking about these-“ he runs a hand down the seam of your shorts, you hide a whine in the linen blend as he laughs soft behind you- “it-it’s fucking, fucking cold out-“ he presses a finger, to where he could assume your cunt is through the shorts themselves- and you feel like kicking back at him when he shushes you- “you-you wore these for me-right?” And you still feel like kicking him, even when he moves to un-button them, repeating like prayer “say you wore these for me-“ you eventually mumble well, well duh- and he bites at your back when he takes them off, pulling them down your legs.
“I feel-feel fucking rabid, I mean shit-“ he kneels, moves to kiss down your thighs, hands moving over your hips. Its easy to hide embarrassment, or arousal when you face is forced into a duvet- but not when he’s face to face with it. You can hear him chuckle when he breathes over your cunt- the warm air forcing another whine out of you- he nearly asks you to beg for it- but you beat him to it just, just please do-do something, I need-i need you- just you. And he groans as he licks a stripe against your cunt. He nearly devours you- you can feel with the movement of the bed that frankie is grinding his crotch into the side of the mattress - moaning at the taste of you, moaning at the sounds he’s able to rip from your gut.
“You-you have no idea-“ as he takes a breath- moving to press a finger into you as you pant, saying his name over and over again. “No idea, how long ive-ive wanted to have you-really, really have you-“ as he presses his fingers in, he moves a hand down to touch over himself- grind his cock into his hand as he touches you- “to keep, keep you as mine, god. I’d be so good to-to you” he fucks his fingers in and out of you, you can feel him moving you toward orgasm, pushing you in that perfect direction- but he stops himself for getting you there. Pulling out his fingers so he can move to stand up over you. Putting a hand under your hips to hike you up-slightly. As he rolls his trousers down he breathes soft- lining himself up against you- and just before he pushes in he speaks- “id do this, this everyday if- if you asked-“
As he pushes in- you look over your shoulder at him, his eyes are wet- his hands skiing, a face of ecstasy. You nearly giggle over at him, overjoyed at you shared devotion. He pushes in so slow, as to not hurt you. But you push yourself back onto him and whine, frank-im not-not gonna fucking break- and he laughs as he bottoms out- “I- I might, sugar, just-let me keep this-this for me-“
The first is the deepest, as he bottoms out he mumbles things under his breath. Prayers, promises, wishes. You can feel then but not hear them. At one point you do hear him beg- high and sweet, variations of please god, please and you decide to do some of the work for him. You move your hips back to meet his- and he takes that as a challenge.
You’ve been rough-ish with each other. Sure, using arguments as foreplay is a very easy way to hide embarrassing romantic revelations. But this feels different, like acutely deeper. He is making his impression in you, a space made for him in your body. You let him wrap his hands around your neck at one point, and he does exactly what you think he is going to do. He holds them there, soft and assuring. But he moves one hand to pinch at your rear, and you giggle as you try and flip over so you can look at each other. Face to face.
It’s half wordless. But you don’t really need to talk, you can hear the gap in his throat vibrate with each press into you, hear him moan in the centre of his chest. And I mean, he can feel you. Sensing your enjoyment would be easy for a blind man, but frank is pleased with his welcome gift to see.
You tumble over it all for hours, moving to take breaks and talk about everything but your relationship and the future of him with you and elsie- until you’re going for the final time.
In his lap, you roll your hips on him as you watch his face contort in pleasure and excitement. He reaches for your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth- and he moans around it like it’s water from a desert. When his lips pop off, you let everything fall out at once. Grabbing his chin with one hand, you hold him close to your face- tell, tell me honestly-now-what you want, for all, fuck-shit, all of this,- tell, tell me I can’t-
He fucks into you, meeting your hips with his as he kisses into the base of your neck, kisses into the centre of your chest. But you see it, when he looks up to you. The same face that looked at you ages ago- that you had immediately trusted with elsie, with you, in one day. You kiss him like he’s going to sink into the bed, and that finally gives him the confidence to awkwardly stutter out “as-as much as I can ha-have, but don’t-dont make-me leave, o’tomorrow, or the day-after, I, think-think were past not-being her-here, I think, I think we both know-what we want, n’im not going’anywhere-“
His hips move faster as he gets closer, frantic. Bucking into you as he blinks away tears, you kiss over them and whisper its all fine baby until you see the bruise imprint on your hip from how hard he’s gripping you. You let him move you up and down till in the final pushes, he moans take it please. Offering you some of him in return for some of you.
Falling asleep with someone new isn’t easy, and you’ve done it twice before on accident. But this time its proper, in a way. Cause you know that tomorrow morning, he wants to be there. You know, by proxy- that the day after that he wants to be there too. The idea, of someone wanting to be there, and staying to prove it seems like an anomaly. Staying when you mean to stay on. But frankie is just that kind of guy. He will stay, because the plain fact is, there is no where he would rather be. Imagine the compliment of time well spent in your company. Imagine it spent in earnest. Tomorrow is an infinite possibility. Frank is a probable factor in that timeline.
And for that to be real. That knowledge, that tomorrow, you can keep it. you will continue to keep ‘tomorrow’ have it for as long as you are lucky to have it. Tomorrow is not a death sentence, or something to go wrong, it is just another day. Love is not a probable factor, but the love you have invested in now, seems sturdy enough to bet on. You see tomorrows with your daughter, hand in hand and protected. You see prom nights, and birthdays, wedding anniversary’s and arguments. You see laughing at bad movies, and going shopping for a pair of damn shoes. You see tomorrows filled with an energy that you’ve never recognised. If you haven’t seen safety before, it can be hard to spot.
If a family is the solar system, let the child be a moon in orbit. Let them see love from a distance and feel the warmth of the sun for it. If love is a body of water, let it be a river. Connecting others, in mischievous pathways. Love is the one true giver.
