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queers-gambit · 4 months

Text

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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carolmunson · 6 months

Text

spin doctor | e.m. x reader

mini ficlet, eddie munson works at a record store. he’s a little snobby. sort of shy!reader if you squint? it’s the very late 90s.

tw: 18+ references to smut/virginity, all around meet-cute-ish.

The rain slaps off the top of your coffee cup and into your eyes while you take a sip, woefully regretting not bringing an umbrella because the weather man said it was only misting. This isn't mist, this is just under a downpour, the hood of your dad's old canvas jacket doing little to protect you from the rain while it darkens with each drop the green fabric absorbs. You stop at the corner, protecting yourself from the weather under the awning of a laundromat. Squinting up towards the overcast gray sky, you double check the cross streets, two more blocks and you'll make it there. There being the record store that you found in the yellow pages after you inherited your parent's record player in their latest attic clean out. Your dad was smart though, sold all of the records that were in mint condition to collecters -- which left you recordless and sort of at a loss of where to start now that they were only sold at specialty stores.

You hurry your way down the next two blocks, finally seeing the sign for VI Chord Records lit up across the street in buzzing red neon. You wait to cross, seeing the reflection of the light in the wet asphalt while the sky starts to darken. Winter easing in slow these days while the nights start to come quicker than expected.

The door jingles when you open it, two guys at the check out counter looking up breifly and then back to their conversation; the other patrons don't even look. You take a breath, happy that at least no one is paying attention. You've never been to a record store before -- bought music, sure; CDs and cassettes but never vinyl -- that was like an old people thing. But your dad couldn't stop going on and on about how music just sounds better when you listen to it like that; and to be fair a lot of your favorites from the 60s and 70s sounded flat on your Walkman. You were on the hunt for the authentic experience now, the real deal.

You start at the 'New Arrivals' bin, pulling down your hood and taking off your headphones to put in your nylon back pack while you search. You sip your coffee while your fingers flick, flick, flick through the sleeves, crunching on and over the plastic protective covering of each record. You don’t know who most of the artists are, names hidden in intricate artwork or vulgar close ups of tits and crotch. You laugh at a few under your breath.

You continue your search, going over to the K section to see if you can find Carole King’s Tapestry, only to be inundated with Kiss record after Kiss record. Kix, Krokus, Kick Axe — King nowhere in the bunch. You let out a soft sigh, eyes scanning the back wall over the guys heads at the check out counter. Guitars hang on the velvet wall paper, gleaming with a fresh sign with scribbles of signatures on them. You land over by the S section, fingers flick flick flicking again to run into Slayer, T’s taken over by Twisted Sister. You don’t even realize how much time has gone by until you take a sip of coffee and nothing is left.

“Can I help you find something?”

You jump, not expecting to head a disembodied voice by the back of your neck, “Huh?”

“You just seem like you’re not finding what you’re looking for, can I help?”

You turn while he asks, one of the guys from the counter who looks like he’s stuck somewhere in the 80s and his grunge phase. His hair is to his shoulders, wavy and cut into a shag that put your moms 70s hair do to shame. The slight stubble on his chin and cheeks stretches with his smile — customer service perfection, but only for pretty things like you.

His crosses his arms over his army green tee, matching your coat that’s nearly dry now. His tattooed arms bulge slightly in the stance, straining against the small sleeves. Your eyes focus on the guitar pick dangling in the center of his chest; suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

“Um,” you start, eyes flicking up to meet his brown ones — soft and eager, like he’s excited to talk to you. Your eyes scan down to the black and gray flannel tied around his narrow waist, falling limply over his dark wash worn jeans into combat boots.

“Uh,” you stutter for a second, trying to not to get caught up in this handsome stranger, “I’m sorta new to records. My dad just gave me his but he sold all his good stuff so um — starting from zero I guess.”

“Ooh, nice,” he grins, “So a virgin, huh?”

You sputter, “Well um — no but —”

“Vinyl virgin, sweetheart,” he winks, “Don’t worry. I don’t need to know the horny details.”

“So what were you trying to find today?” he asks, leaning against the stacked milk crates full to the brim at the center of the room, “We actually just got some solid rares in if you’re trying to start a good collection.”

“I just wanna listen to oldies,” you laugh.

He laughs too, it’s smoky and cool, “Nah, nah, I hear you. What kinda oldies like — early Black Sabbath or…?”

You bite your lower lip, “I was more thinking like um, Motown? The Temptations? Maybe some James Taylor. I was mostly trying to find The Flamingos single for —”

He laughs while you continue on but then realizes you aren’t joking, head coming back to center, “Oh you’re, you’re serious?”

You feel heat lick at your cheeks and chest, sweat slickly creeping on the top of your back, “Yeah I thought…it’s a record store so—”

“Not that kind, princess,” he shrugs, hands dropping to lean against the crates behind him, “We only sell hard rock and metal here for the most part. You could check the dollar bins for drop offs, we don’t really sort those.”

“Oh,” you nod, averting his gaze while you see the big bin in the corner labeled ‘Dollar Donations’.

“Yeah maybe you’ll find your doo-wop stuff in there or something,” his voice has a hint of teasing to it that makes your teeth grit.

“Are you like, shitting on me?” you ask shakily, kind of surprised this is actually happening to you. That this guys is legitimately being a jerk over wanting music that maybe he’s not into.

“No, no, no,” he urges, “No. I’m sorry, seriously. It’s just that we don’t really get people who come in here not looking for what we sell. We’re kinda well known for being a vintage metal store.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t know that so,” you shrug, defeated weighing down your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he assures, sweet smile tugging his lips up to reveal deep dimples, “You’re a vinyl virgin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” you roll your eyes, making your way to the bin while he follows behind you.

“Maybe if you tell me what kind of music you like now I can find a good one for you,” he offers, hand resting on his chest that’s covered in silver rings and chipped nail polish, “I’ve been told I make great recommendations.”

“I’ve been liking Blink-182 lately. Backstreet Boys on the other side of the coin,” you shrug, “And um, one of my friends has been trying to get me into Nine In Nails.”

“Now we’re talking,” he smiles, “There we go. Anything else? What’s the other older stuff you like?”

“Uh, um,” you shrug again, “Elton John? Eric Clapton?”

He nods again, “Okay, some of this stuff I can work with. What about uh, hmm, Fleetwood Mac? Sort of your vibe?”

You smile at him without meaning to, making him nearly stutter at the site, “Yeah, that’s sort of my vibe.”

“Alright,” he nods while he racks his brain for the perfect album to pick for you, “I think I got an idea of what to pull for you.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms with a smirk, “Fine. I hope it’s impressive.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grins cockily, “Never had anyone complain about me popping their cherry.”

“At least take a girl for a drink first,” you joke back, “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Eddie,” his hand extends out and you take it, his skin warm and slightly clammy at his never ending bumbling when talking to girls like you, “Happy to be taking your vinyl virginity today.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand slightly when you introduce yourself before letting go, “Be gentle, please. I’m new to this.”

“C’mon,” he cocks his head to the opposite wall by the ‘F’ section, “I got a lot to show you. We’ll go slow.”

He winks again; making you swallow hard. It might not have been where you meant go today, but it might have been exactly where you were meant to be.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au

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st4rtar0t · 7 months

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Tarot reading: What vibes do you give off to strangers?

Picture one

Cards : knight of wands, The emperor and two of swords

When strangers encounter you, they might feel your infectious zest for life. You give off this vibe of being adventurous and always ready for something new. People might see you as someone who's not afraid to take risks and explore uncharted territories, and that can be pretty exciting to be around! I see that they might sense a strong sense of confidence and self-assuredness. You give off a vibe of being in control and having a clear plan. People may perceive you as someone who's organized and can handle whatever comes your way. Your presence might make them feel like you've got your life together, which can be quite reassuring.They might also sense that you're someone who takes their time to weigh options and doesn't rush into things. You give off a vibe of being thoughtful and considerate. People might feel like you're a good listener, someone who's open to different perspectives and doesn't jump to conclusions. you give off a unique blend of vibes. On one hand, there's that adventurous, energetic side that makes you seem like a fun and dynamic person to be around. On the other hand, your confidence and sense of control can give off an aura of reliability and leadership. And then, there's that thoughtful, considerate side that suggests you're not one to make snap judgments. These vibes combined make you an intriguing and well-rounded individual in the eyes of strangers. You're likely someone who can make people feel both excited and at ease when they meet you.

Picture two

Cards : Page of cups, 9 of wands and 10 of swords

First up, that youthful, dreamy vibe - it's like you're this open book of emotions and experiences. People can sense your readiness to dive headfirst into new things, to embrace emotions as they come, and to explore the world with fresh eyes. You're like a cup waiting to be filled with all these exciting feelings and ideas. And that's probably why folks find you super approachable; they see you as someone who's up for some real, heart-to-heart conversations. It's like you've got this welcoming aura that says, "Hey, let's chat about life and all the good stuff. It's like you've got this invisible armor, a cloak of resilience. People can pick up on your determination and grit, like you've been through some real battles and come out even stronger. There's a protective aura around you, a vibe that suggests you've faced your fair share of obstacles and setbacks, but you didn't back down. Instead, you stood your ground, and that makes strangers see you as someone who's not to be messed with. You're cautious, in a smart way, and that's something they respect. It's like you've experienced some major closures and endings in your life. Strangers might sense that you've put certain things to rest, that you're not dwelling on the past. There's this air of closure around you, like you've accepted the finality of some situations. And it's not just about endings; it's about transformation too. People might feel that you've undergone significant changes and personal growth. It's like you've faced your own dragons and emerged as a stronger, more evolved version of yourself.

Picture three

Cards : 5 of wands, knight of pentacles and 4 of cups

When strangers first meet you, they might sense a bit of inner conflict or restlessness in your energy. It's like you're constantly juggling ideas or ambitions, which can sometimes create a sense of tension around you. But don't worry; this isn't necessarily a bad thing! This inner struggle often stems from your desire to make things better, to improve yourself and your situation. People might notice that you're not one to settle for the status quo. Now, let's talk about your approach to work and responsibilities. You give off vibes of someone who's incredibly diligent and dependable. People might pick up on the fact that you're the kind of person who takes their commitments seriously. You're like the knight of pentacles, always focused on the task at hand and willing to put in the effort required to get things done. Your dedication and reliability are qualities that strangers can appreciate and respect. On the other hand, there might be moments when strangers perceive a certain level of indifference or introspection in you. It's like you have your own world of thoughts and emotions, which can sometimes make you seem distant or disinterested in what's happening around you. The four of cups suggests that you might occasionally miss out on opportunities because you're so wrapped up in your inner contemplations. But this introspection is also a part of your charm, as it hints at depth and complexity in your personality.

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This is my very first post here. Please let me know if this resonated with you 🤗

#pick a card #tarot #divination #spirituality #tarot reading #tarot services #tarotcommunity #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick an image

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vesora · 9 months

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is it a real problem or are you trapped in your mind?

this one goes to my anxious girlies

the past few weeks I've been extremely trapped in my mind, ruminating whether someone would backstab me or whether a friend would leave me and of course there is no evidence of that in real life, it's all in mind. that being said, deep down i know that nothing would happen and im sure deep down you all know as well that nothing would happen. but the what ifs are so strong that you can't handle yourself practising the law.

this doesn't mean you can't manifest during this time, we always manifest, just now you can consciously manifest things you want. e.g. I wanted a psychic message from someone and I received it; I got money when I needed it; I never wait for public transport even if the app shows that it is coming in like 30 minutes (because we don't pay attention to 3d). I've noticed my anxious and extremely intrusive thoughts never manifest, especially after learning the law so I don't want you to be scared of your own mind. You, as the supreme being and consciousness ARE your mind but your mind is not you. In the grand scheme of things, the mind is unreal so what would the "3d" listen to? Some jumble of anxious fearful thoughts that do not exist except from when you aware of it or the command of God themselves?

all in your (unreal) mind:

don't punish yourself, stop harming yourself by trapping yourselves in your mind. simply drop the thought. if you find that hard, you can work on it by eliminating the possibilities but from experience, that still never makes the fear go away. the fear is so primal, so noticeable that the only way it feels it can go away for me is if I end everything and thats not good right? why would God be a victim to her character's thoughts? Why wouldn't God just change the garment?

The hardest thing is to just ACCEPT. "Just accept you have it" was the hardest thing for me to apply because soras entire life was just finding every possible solution for the worst case scenario in case people hurt her or I am seen in a way that doesn't represent her (aka being misunderstood). See how i am using her and sora to describe things I experienced? It's because I have the POWER to completely eradicate any trauma or any pain by just choosing to adorn myself in another state. I am not sora but sora is me, therefore I have control over soras experiences. You are not a victim to your circumstance, when you find the law you have the power to create your own life, you create new circumstances by adopting a new version of yourself. You are in control no matter what the unreal mind says.

breathe in, breathe out:

Excuse my language but honestly fuck the mind???? It only knows what it has learned from its surroundings and you are above the surroundings so why would you listen to such a limited thing?

Do you think if you dismiss the thoughts you won't be prepared for what you think is about to come? Do you feel you constantly have to be on defense mode protecting yourself either from physical or emotional harm?

I understand, I was the same way and sometimes I still revert back to it. However the thing is, who is creating whats about to come? YOU ARE! Don't you get it? Nothing can happen without your consent (once you accept your power of course). You are not a victim to circumstances. You are never the receiver, you are always the creator. Bask yourself in lovely states with lovely thoughts. It is okay if you do not believe it or if your body is resisting it, just please persevere. We can't let anxiety win. What is anxiety to a God?

our negative beliefs falling after we disown them:

Read this by Edward Art

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—inked; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1k words. ʚ reader is a tattoo artist, kaz brekker needs a tattoo. there's a lot of yearning involved. ʚ non-descriptive needle and tattoo stuff; slight angst. ʚ a/n you can tell i don't know how tattoos work.

Kaz Brekker should stop trying to find a reason to knock on your door. He should step back, tilt his head down and walk away as if he was never there in the first place. It was becoming a habit and habits meant comfort and comfort usually became root for something more—something that someone like him couldn't grow beyond a sprout when you deserved the whole forest.

Yet he stayed stubbornly at your door.

He was a selfish man in that regard.

He could hear you shuffling behind the door and then the rattle of your keys, followed by a soft click of your door being unlocked. You pulled the door open a smidge.

“Kaz!”

He wished you didn't sound so happy to see him. Then, he wouldn't feel welcomed to come back the next time and the next time and the next. He didn't want to make a habit out of it, but he was here yesterday and four days ago and a week ago. He had a feeling that he would be here in the near future as well.

Your door swung open immediately. You were wearing casual clothes, comfortable for sleeping, instead of your usual coats and leathers. It was a welcome change. It made his visits feel more personalised, like he was the only one to see you as you were and not as you wanted him to.

“What brings you here tonight?” you asked, already leading him to sit on the upholstered couch in your room. It used to be your bed, before you saved enough for a real one. Now, it nestled itself in one corner of your room for rare visitors. The only one who ever came by your rented room in Ketterdam was Kaz lately.

“I want to get a tattoo.”

His eyes wandered to your walls, littered with inked drawings of past tattoo designs you had done. You worked at a tattoo parlour that fell in the Dregs' territory. Many of the new members had their tattoos done at your workplace. You had even inked a few of them yourself.

“The shop opens in a couple of hours,” you said. “We can wait—”

“Not at the shop, if you can,” he interrupted. He didn't think he could bear having other people in the same room. He didn't think he wanted someone else to potentially do it as well. He came to you because he trusted you. He had spent too many nights awaiting dawn with you. He had told you too many secrets he shouldn't have. You had told him things about yourself that you probably shouldn't. He came to you when nothing went right. He came to you when everything went the way it should. You waited for him after a good day. You still waited even after a bad day.

It was a strange dynamic.

It should feel like he was skeeting over the edge of a chasm, but it felt more like the gentle hum of his room at the Slat. Steady, familiar four walls that served as a respite from the debauchery of the Barrell.

“Of course,” you agreed. It took you less than five minutes to gather everything you needed. Fortunately, you had gone on a supply run for the shop earlier. You were planning to bring everything to the shop when it opened, but you'd be needing them earlier than you thought.

“You're putting a lot of trust in me,” you joked. “I could write 'Ketterdam's biggest loser' on your arm.”

“It would suit you better than me.”

You chuckled. He thought it would sound good on vinyl. He could listen to it for hours.

“Rule one, Brekker. Never insult the person who's putting permanent ink on you.” You shot him a glare, but you were smiling. It was inexplicably easy to smile around him. “What are you thinking?”

“The Dregs tattoo, on my arm.” He rolled his sleeves and your heart was beating twice as fast. Unbeknownst to you, his was as well. He had never bared a part of himself so casually before. You had never seen him without all his layers—all the protection over his skin.

Your machine whirred to life. You disinfected his skin with a couple swipes of a disinfectant pad. His whole body tensed when you made contact, despite your gloves.

“Hey, Kaz.” You pulled his attention away from where you'd touched him. “I won't hurt you.”

You held out your gloved palm. With your free hand, you took his gloved hand and set it gently over your palm. He inhaled sharply.

“It's okay. It's just me.”

He trailed a finger softly over your palm. There was a barrier between your skins, but it was daunting all the same. He took a couple of deep, spaced breaths with closed eyes. When he opened them, you were smiling encouragingly at him.

“You can start,” he said, but almost immediately regretted it when you pulled your hands away.

“There will be slight pain,” you said over the whirring of your machine.

He scoffed. “I know pain better than—”

He cursed, inhaling sharply when first contact broke his skin.

You rolled your eyes. “I warned you, Brekker.”

Stray hairs fell over his forehead. “I was startled.”

His eyes were tracing the lines of your face as you worked. The proximity started to feel somewhat comfortable, with the lull of your tattoo machine. You occasionally hummed as you worked. He etched the sound into his mind. You weren't a singer, but he preferred your voice over any performers.

“Done!” you suddenly proclaimed. He looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you think?”

The crow and cup over his right forearm. A permanent mark that he was Dirtyhands of the Dregs. No deed too low for him as long as there was enough Kruge involved. Was that all who he really was?

“Can you add another? A small one,” he rasped.

“Certainly, Kaz. What is it?”

“The letter R, here,” he pointed at his bicep. “For the boy I was. For my brother.”

“I wish I could've met him, you know. Jordie.”

Kaz wished so, too. A foolish wish. Ketterdam didn't groom him to be a wishful thinker. Hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing. He should leave.

“Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I overstepped.”

Kaz's eyes widened. “No. You're okay.”

It was him.

“Then stop looking like you're ready to bolt anytime, Kaz. I happen to appreciate your company.”

“Oh.”

He let hope force its way in and make a nest in his chest anyway.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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aalyssah · 1 year

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Are You Sick?

Pairing: Protective!Solo Sikoa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 842

Summary: You find yourself sick, but it doesn't go unnoticed by the others and especially, Solo.

A/N: Requested by Anonymous: “Can you please do more solo fics.” Hope You Enjoy!

The moment you woke up, you knew you were sick. The way you felt hot, but also cold at the same time didn't go unnoticed. The way your nose was stuffed up, making it hard for you to breathe, and the nasty cough you would have.

The amount of weight your bag was putting on you, made you feel like you were gonna fall. Sami was first to notice you, getting up to greet you. "Ah, there she is! Y/n, how are you?" You sniffled, grabbing a chair next to Solo and laying your head on the table. "Fine." Your voice was hoarse and raspy as you answered him.

Everyone turned and looked at you. "Hey, you alright?" Sami tried touching you, but Solo stopped him. "Don't touch her." The surprised expressions that came across everyone's face was no surprise. Even you were shocked. Solo talked! He never talks to anyone, but he talks about you.

Solo grabbed your head, tilting your chin up, looking at your face and into your eyes. "You look pale. Have you eaten?" Your mouth was agape as you couldn't figure if he was talking to you. Roman watched in amusement as you were the only person Solo would talk to, other than Sami.

“Uh, I-I don't know?" Sami slightly chuckled at your answer. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t know?’ Did you eat, or not?” You shook your head no, still looking at Solo.

Without another word, Solo went to the food area and started making you a plate. Jey and Jimmy smiled at one another, seeing their little brother growing a crush. “He likes you.” Sami sang, making Roman chuckle. “No he doesn’t, he is just looking out for me.”

Solo came back, silencing everyone as they watched. “Eat something and see if you feel better.” You tried telling him that you weren’t hungry, it was just a cold, but he didn’t let it slide. “No, you need to eat it. We can’t have you pass out mid match, can we?” The way he spoke to you made you wanna sink into a hole and never come out.

You mumbled an ‘Okay’ and began eating what was on your plate. You're not gonna lie when you say after you 're done, you felt a little better, but it was just your nose and a cough that was the real problem. “How are you feeling now?” Solo asked, putting his hand on your forehead. “I’m fine, but my nose is runny, but that won’t stop me from having my match!”

You excitedly got up and made your way over to the exit until you were pulled back into a strong chest. “You need to rest.” He carried you back to the table and sat you down. He took his hoodie off and placed it over you, putting your feet across his lap. “Sleep.” Roman was shocked to see Solo act so protective over you.

He usually isn’t one to speak with the family, but right now he’s acting like a teenage boyfriend who’s concerned for his girlfriend. And y’all aren’t even dating! “My match-” Solo held his hand up, stopping you and shaking his head. “You can have it another time, you need to care about yourself more than work.” You laid back, in defeat, knowing he was right.

“Whatever.” You closed your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep until you really did.

Later on in the afternoon, you woke up to the sound of voices talking. You felt like you were on a cushion, something comfy. You acted like you were asleep, listening to the conversation.

“Tribal Chief, Sir. Do you think Solo really likes Y/n?” You couldn’t see what was happening, but you heard laughing. “Why else would he get so protective over me touching her or when she tried to leave for her match? That’s gotta be a yes!” The boys gossiped, but stopped when the door opened, to which you assumed it was Solo.

You felt a dip on the couch and a hand coming to rub in your hair.

Maybe getting sick wasn’t so bad.

#solo sikoa #solo sikoa imagine #solo sikoa x reader #solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa smut #roman reigns smut #wwe fluff #wwe smut

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snakeredbirdbatkatana · 1 month

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Damian has been in the family for a while he has made his peace with Drake understood that no matter what he has a place but he still can't understand the dynamics. Maybe it isn't exactly the most intelligent choice to track down Todd and ask but he figured it was the best option.

Sitting on Todd's couch in the middle of crime alley eating a dish he can only vaguely remember his mother making he isn't exactly regretting it yet.

"So let me get this straight bat brat, you don't get how people work so you came to me?" Todd's confusion isn't exactly surprising but it is unhelpful to his plight.

"No I understand people, well when I have to I do not understand the bats." He at the moment can't bring himself to actually act with the dignity his mother expects of him another way Gotham had corrupted him.

Jason can't say he expected to feed and be interrogated by the demon brat he just wanted to relax but this isn't exactly a surprise now that the kid has chilled out he was almost waiting for it.

"You want me to give you a cheat sheet to how our family actually works becusse you are now realizing that Talia didn't understand shit and it fucked you?"

He can't keep the pure joy out of his voice knowing that he is actually gonna get to knock the kid down a peg after today.

"Not in those words Todd but I understand you have a perspective that I may lack."

God demon looks pissed below the joy he understand that this is actually important and he needs to explain this well knowing this could make or break the already pretty fucked up kid.

"Alright listen and don't fucking interrupt me save your questions and bitchness for the end do I make myself clear."

Holding the kids eyes he sees the kid is actually paying attention as he nods maybe Dickie really did find out the secrets housebreaking who knows.

"Ok let's start with me and I'm gonna be sappy for ten seconds and if you ever repeat this I will shoot you and put you in another duffle bag ok, ok good. I'm your brother I love you would kill for you that whole bullshit. I'm also Dick's, and Tim's brother, on days I don't want to kill the old man I'm his son."

God he's gonna need a smoke after this bullshit fuck he sees the kid is nodding good he hasn't lost him.

"Now Dick is my older brother he's not yours you can lie to yourself all you fucking want but he's your dad teaching you how to be a real boy and all that shit."

He sees an embarrassed flush and the start of protests but he's not dealing with it that bullshit the kid can work on in his own time.

" You wanted it your gonna fucking hear it, now Tim-Tam the sleep deprived idiot is a bit more complicated."

He takes a breath trying to put into words what he wants to say.

"Why is Drake complicated wouldn't he be somewhat easy" the confusion isn't a good sign maybe it is better the kid came so he can restrain him if he has too.

"Tim is the best of us alright, he's someone I want to protect I love him truly even if he's an annoying little shit. Now listen Tim is a lot like you when it comes to Dick crossing the line between Dad and Brother. Tim will always side with Dick that's his Robin and Tim is Dick's. You can't be a jealous little shit here because I don't even fully understand them."

"Bruce isn't Tim"s dad at least on his end Dick is, Bruce loves Tim but no one can ever replace Dickie just like you which is honestly half the reason you hated the kid."

Damian is now regretting this conversation he thought this would be simple once again he has somewhat lost his mind since coming to Gotham.

Yet he knows Todd's right that the way Grayson looks at Drake is the same look he gets and the same part of him who loves his animals and loves Richard feels guilty because he knew. He just didn't want to admit it.

"Why I don't understand why is Timothy so different to any of us even you, both of us tried to kill him yet he seems to matter so much"

frustration is leaking through but this is what he wanted to know why Drake is so important even to him why, what is so special about him.

Todd is hesitating but slowly steeling himself Damian cant help but to copy him knowing whatever comes out isn't gonna be easy it's gonna hurt but he asked didn't he.

"Tim was the first, the one to really unlock Dick not being well a dick he knows parts of all of us, secretswhatever, the shit that matters. Bruce, Dick, me even you, we don't run shit ok Wayne Entetprises, plans Tim does. Dick and Tim are the glue holding us together without them we would be fucked you know that."

"That's what's so special about him everything we do Tim has a part of he's genuinely irreplaceable and it bothers the fuck out of both of us."

Damian can't breathe he just runs words he never wanted admitted are stabbing through his mind he doesn't stop until somehow he ends up in his bed at the manor he just hides pushing it down the real reason he tried to kill his brother the fact that he almost broke the family he just hides he shouldn't have asked.

Maybe Richard was right being naive was a gift and now he can't go back.

#batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #this is so not flushed out this is a mess #bruce wayne #tim drake #batfam #ehhh it's something

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ursa-the-stranger · 6 months

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Op had to restrict replies but I wanted to reblog so heres a copy paste of it sans op's name. I will take this down if they ask however.

I have been noodling over posting this for several days but I think it's important for some people to hear.

At a March on Saturday, at a pro Palestine march, my group and I were targeted by by nazis. Not targeted for violence, but targeted for recruitment. They weren't wearing swastikas, they weren't spewing blatant antisemitic hate speech. They seemed like two normal dudes. They marched with us, talked about how awful everything in Palestine was, how we wished world leaders would grow a pair and hold Israel responsible for fucking war crimes, how existing in the world right now was hard. They were empathetic, they were kind, they seemed like genuine good dudes.

Until we passed a synagogue where people were handing our water to marchers. They had signs defending Palestine on their table. But the tone of the conversation changed. These two seemingly normal dudes started talking about how "performative" the gesture felt, that Jewish people should be doing more. That they needed to PROVE it. They started talking about "Zionist" propaganda in the US, about how it was deeply entrenched in capitalism. Things that, on the surface, seemed reasonable but it set off alarm bells in my head.

When I was a kid, I remember getting the speech of "don't repeat anything your uncle or cousin so and so says and don't argue with them. Try to avoid them but if you can't be polite." Because those uncles and cousins said a lot of hateful things about anyone who wasn't like them, but their favorite targets were black people and Jewish people. I would find out as an adult it was because many of those uncles and cousins were in the Klan. When I studied hate symbols for a class in college, I found my self looking at images I'd seen on arms and necks and hands my whole life, because I live in an area of the US where the KKK is still around. And standing in that crowd, listening to these guys talk, i had the most horrible realization I've had in a long time.

We were being fished by Nazis. We were a group of able body, white American leftists. At a march in support of stopping the murder and genocide of Palestinians, these motherfuckers were out here, trying to find people they could get to hate Jewish folks. I wasn't the only one in my group who clocked it, and when we called them on it, the masks came off. They called us a bunch of "Jew loving bitches" before they moved on.

But we're marched with these guys for a couple hours, talked with them, laughed with them, brought them into our circle. For a moment we forgot we also weren't immune to propaganda, we weren't immune to people who make hate sound reasonable and that people like that never start out saying the quiet part out loud, they lean on your anger and your sense of helplessness to move you where they want you. If the last eight years has taught us anything, it's that fascists know how to adjust to the times, to work with what they got, to recruit. They know how to radicalize people, how to weaponize anger and helplessness. And I'm sitting here, every day, seeing posts that sound exactly like these guys did and it worries me.

I know I'm talking to the No Reading Comprehension Website, but I'm begging you guys to develop some now.

You are not immune to propaganda. We are all angry, as we fucking should be. We are watching an entire culture, thousands of lives, whole bloodlines, being wiped out in real time, and for many of us our nations are at best, wringing their hands, and at worst, shipping them weapons, all to protect capitalist greed. It's monstrous, it's disgusting. But look, REALLY LOOK, at the things you are tweeting, sharing, look at the language and how it's used. Take the time to educate yourself about how hate groups use social justice causes and civil unrest to recruit, research the posts your spreading, check your sources. If you are out protesting, be situationally aware, and do not be afraid to clock and call out Nazis. Listen to Jewish people, listen to their concerns, educate yourself on what Zionism and antisemitism actually are and how they can be weaponized. It doesn't feel as good as rage, it doesn't feel as good as having a group you can functionally rail against in a way we can't against a nation a world away, but it's a skill that's going to help you and a lot of other people in the long run.

#keep your wits about you. hold love for the best of people and the worst of people in your heart. always search for the facts for yourself

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chickenparm · 1 year

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By Choice or By Accident (Wanderer/Reader)

Spoilers for Interlude Chapter: Act III Inversion of Genesis

i made the executive decision that the traveler fucks around a bit and takes a good while longer to decipher what scara changed with irminsul and wow, that's a convenient amount of time for him to get real soft on someone huh-

(also i believe scara says he doesn't like sweets only because ei DOES like sweets and he secretly loves them you cannot change my mind, back off)

AO3 LINK

Wanderer/Reader

5,258 Words - SFW

Nothing heinous. Fluff, 2 seconds of Angst, meandering narrative, skipping time a little bit, Reader is a candy maker. Very indulgent, don't take this seriously.

---

Despite its status as a hub of commerce, it’s rather obvious when a new face arrives in the Grand Bazaar. Even more so when they’re dressed like that - soft blues against striking azure, a wide hat and carefully placed body armor to show martial skill.

When the grocer across the way brings home a straggler, your initial thought is to be wary. There’s an unsettled quiet around him as he keeps his head ducked low and his face carefully hidden. The protection on his arms and shins suggests some martial skill, yet there’s no vision to be seen on his person.

In the beginning, you’re wary - and rightfully so. Then his head lifts and his eyes move around the bazaar before he realizes you’re staring, and something fundamental changes in that split second. The air around him shifts, the guarded expression in his eyes bleeds away, and you’re left staring at excited eyes and a smile that shines with both anticipation and trepidation.

The grocer’s new stray becomes a fixture. One that you quietly watch from your stall of handmade sweets, your gaze occasionally broken by the excited child or curious adult, all of whom are the sources of your livelihood here. But even your regulars find it hard to keep your attention when something so interesting is just across the way.

Initially, the first word you’d use to describe him is untouchable. Like something priceless to be placed on a shelf. Only to look at, never to hold in your hands and sully it with your touch. Even as he works diligently at the grocer and displays less than fragile tendencies, you still can’t keep yourself from marveling at the otherworldly sort of perfection.

Then, just like that, it’s swept away in the span of a short interaction.

While you’ve overheard his quiet arguments with the grocer about not accepting pay, you know for certain he’s been tipped on deliveries to their customers. It’s what gives him the means to tentatively cross the walkway to your stall, stand a respectful distance away, and let pretty violet eyes wander over what you have on display for the day.

And they are pretty. A color you’ve never seen before, even in a city like Sumeru where fabrics in all manner of hues are commonplace. You’re not entirely sure that someone could accurately recreate such a shade of purple.

Quietly, as if to keep from imposing on you, he steps a little closer and squeezes the pouch of mora in front of him with a grip so tight his knuckles turn just a little lighter than the rest of his pale skin. It’s painfully obvious that he’s nervous, but his chin lifts and his chest expands with an inhale, and you’re impressed with the bravery he’s showing to simply peruse a candy stall.

“Please recommend something to me!”

He says it like he’s about to run into battle - and your heart that was wary at first melts. Any caution is thrown to the wind as your shoulders relax, and a smile spreads across your face, and you ask, “What do you like?”

To your surprise, he clams up for a moment, twisting at the ties of the mora pouch until you’re certain the ropes are going to unravel. The last thing you expect is a quiet, “...I’m not sure.”

Okay. You can handle that, as strange as it is. Going into your usual sales pitch with gusto, you try your hardest not to be distracted by the way he cocks his head and leans in, listening with rapt attention as you point out each little piece, which were handmade and which you had brought him, which were your favorites and which ones most people seemed to gravitate toward.

“These ones aren’t popular, but I like them. They’re sour, but once you get to the middle, there’s a sweetness that chases it away. Just don’t eat too many, they’ll make your mouth sore!”

“It’s sour, but you say they’re good?” His fingers pinch his chin in thought as he looks at each flavor you have of the small selection. It’s no use keeping a large stock when its audience is few and far between. “Sour on the outside, sweet on the inside, huh?”

“It makes the sweetness that much nicer if you can make it through the tough bit. It’s kind of like life, isn’t it? Once you make it through the difficult parts, the moments that are softer are that much better when you’re in them.”

Violet eyes watch you in wonder, lips gently parted as he mulls over your impromptu advice. With warm cheeks, you busy yourself with straightening the rows, the smallest bit of embarrassment making your fingers shake. They don’t look any neater when you’ve finished.

He picks one of everything you indicate as your preference, carefully counting out the coins and giving a little extra that you try to place back in his hand. But he grasps your wrist until your palm is up, pushing the extra coins there and using his free hand to curl your fingers around them securely. The smile on his face is wider than any you’ve seen, cutting into his cheeks and making the corners of his eyes squint in its wake.

“Just for being kind, that’s all.” And his touch lingers for a moment long enough to make your heart skip, your fingers itching to grasp at his own so he could stay just a little longer. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“I don’t think you’ll get through all that candy in a night.” Or he could, you’re in no place to judge him for it. Certainly, children much smaller than him have performed that feat before.

In return, he smiles sheepishly and focuses on his hands holding yours, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of your wrist. There’s no doubt he can feel your heart racing from his touch and his presence, his soft grin and the slight flush on the apples of his cheeks. “Maybe not. But… just to talk to you? I’d like to know you if you’d let me.”

If he notices your persistent giddiness for the remainder of the bazaar’s open hours, he mercifully doesn’t make any comment on it. He simply returns the next day with praises over what you’d sold him the day before, exclaiming that the sour candies were his favorite, and an earnest question.

“Could you teach me how to make this?”

And how could you say no? When his hands were fisted at his sides to hide how they shake at the prospect of such a simple question, there’s no way you could deny something so… sweet.

That evening, after he closes up with the grocer, he crosses the pathway that separates you and offers to help you carry your goods home for the day. It’s with great pleasure you gesture to a house just two doors down - your home and workshop all in one. He doesn’t let you carry your goods, anyway.

“It must be nice, living so close. I’m glad to see it.”

“Glad?” You ask, watching carefully at how he carries a box with one arm that you often have to drag across the ground on a nightly basis. He must be deceptively strong. The hat he wears is tucked beneath his other arm, leaving his smooth hair a little mussed after a day of wearing it.

His head bobs as he watches you unlock the door with a key from your pocket, the hinges groaning as you step inside and urge him to follow as you work to light the lamps. The answer you asked for comes as the room illuminates. “I’d hate for you to have to walk so far at night. It’s not very safe.”

“True, but the bazaar is one of the safest places in the city. And I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Spending your life somewhere doesn’t always make it safe,” he pauses, just long enough to set the box of goods down on the table that dominates the center of your home, “but it’s not really my place to be overbearing about your safety. I’m sorry if that was too much.”

“No! It was… nice. Thank you for caring.” The words strike him into stillness, his hand resting on the lid of the box, thumb curling around the edge to press into the wood. His other hand rubs over his chest, just beneath the dangling ornament and pinion that jingle slightly in the comfortable silence.

The swallow he makes is audible, a show of that nervousness that comes when he seems to be faced with sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with. To his credit, his voice doesn’t waver, even a little. “You’ve been nothing but nice to me. Of course I’d care, even a little.” And that endearing pink comes back again, barely visible in the lights that are just beginning to grow stronger as the flame catches the wicks.

“You’ve been nice, too. Give yourself a little credit.”

Outside, other merchants are making their way home. The sound of carts and laughter trickles into the room, breaking the tension that’s somehow formed despite such an innocuous topic. Clearing your throat, you ask, “You know, I don’t actually know your name. You’ve never told me.”

While the tension is gone for you, it doubles down on him as his shoulders clench, and he pointedly looks away. The far corner of the room suddenly becomes impossibly interesting to him, at least compared to how you begin to move closer to unpack the box.

“That’s because… I don’t have one. I’m just a wanderer. Any name I might’ve had, I don’t remember it anymore.”

“Do you not remember by choice, or by accident?”

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements as you bring the sour candies out. Pointedly, you pull a few from their bag and push them across the table to him. As if he were afraid they’d disappear, his fingers wrap around them and drag them closer. One pops in his mouth, and he waits until the sweetness makes itself known before he finally answers.

“A little of both, I think.” The candy clacks against his teeth, running along his molars from one side to the other, as if he’s preventing a single spot from being scoured by the sourness. Perhaps it’s also a tactic to delay what comes next, something you only realize when he says it. “You should know… I’m not exactly human. I’m-... I’m a puppet.”

“Okay.”

“...Okay?”

Giving him time to ruminate over that, you finish unloading the box before stowing it away beneath the table. It gives you enough time to formulate a tactful response. Palms on the table, you lean to get the weight off your feet from standing all day, and explain yourself. “That doesn’t change anything. I still like you, I’ll still teach you. You must’ve lived a long time then, huh?”

He doesn’t give you a number, and you don’t exactly ask, but the way he exhales until his lungs are empty tells you that in his mind, it might have been a few too many years to walk through. Has he wandered all that time? Alone? It doesn’t feel right to ask - so you don’t.

Instead, as you begin to lay out supplies for tomorrow’s stock, you quietly make a promise to yourself that if you can help it, perhaps he won’t need to use the term lonely to describe himself ever again.

—

When you first opened your stall, it was commonplace for you to grow sick after contacting so many people on a daily basis. It was just expected, it came with the territory, and you only needed a handful of months for your body to grow used to it. Nowadays, you hardly find yourself feeling ill at all.

Then there were days like today, where the world is too bright, and your skin feels too hot and too cold, uncomfortable no matter your position. The softness of your bed curls around you, cradling your aching joints as you struggle to maintain a comfortable body temperature. The windows facing the street show that the sun is already risen, though at this time of day, not as much of it makes it down to the bazaar, even at the outskirts as you are.

Wrapped in your blankets in the throes of a cold chill is how the wanderer finds you. His steps into your home are tentative - you’d given him a key, and you thank yourself for the foresight. Looking into your bedroom, his expression goes from curiosity to something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than fear.

“What’s wrong? Look at me-”

“I’m okay.” Talking makes your head feel thick and muddled, stuffed too full of the meager thoughts it requires to get words out. But he’s kneeling next to your head now, hands hovering over you but not quite touching, like he’s unsure of what to do next. It lightens your mood a little, seeing him fret like this. “Just a little sick - it goes around this time of year.”

“What do you need me to do? Do you need food? Have you had anything to drink today? Hang on, let me get a washcloth.”

And he’s on his feet, moving to your kitchen and out of your ability to call him back. A quiet laugh leaves you as you roll onto your back, snuggling beneath blankets and listening as he sifts through your cabinets to find a bowl, then fill it with cool water to bring back to you. His eyes are more focused on the bowl as he enters, determined not to spill it until he’s able to set it down on your bedside table.

Before you can say a word, the back of his fingers press to your forehead, and he hisses through his teeth. There’s no need to say that you’re burning up, not with how he hurriedly wrings out the cloth and folds it delicately on your forehead. Even chilled as you are, it feels like heaven, and you all but melt into the blankets as the fingers of his hand linger along your brow.

“Better?”

“Mm… yes, thank you.”

“Okay. It’s okay.” He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself, rather than you. There’s something haunted in his eyes, something that’s clawing at the back of his mind. Far be it from your place to ask, but the fever has lowered your inhibitions, and you can’t help but lick the chapped dryness of your lips before asking what you wish to know.

“Why are you afraid? Look at you, you’re terrified.”

The answer is immediate, maybe even instinctual. “I don’t know.” His eyes linger over your face, trailing over the dark circles beneath your eyes and the weariness that lingers. “My mind is telling me terrible things, almost like I’ve… lost someone like this. But I’ve never-... I haven’t been around anyone long enough to care. Not like this.”

He cares. About you. Sure, that was obvious enough at this point, but the fact that he puts it into words so candidly makes your heart flutter nervously. It’s been a long time since anyone would go to these lengths for you in your time of need, and for it to be him… It makes you feel leagues better already.

“I’m… I’ll make you something to eat. And get you something to drink. I’ll be back.”

The words tumble out of him, one after another, with little control. He’s nearly out the door by the time you comprehend that he’d been pink in the cheeks, fingers nervously twirling the golden feather on his chest. He cares. What a novel thought.

It doesn’t take him terribly long to return. Just long enough for your eyes to droop closed and your mind to wander off into dreams of pretty violet eyes and the faint scent of flowers that you’ve never come across before. Soft smiles, a hand running down your arm, a thumb across your cheek as a familiar voice urges you to reawaken.

“Just a few bites, then you can sleep.”

Easy enough, when the spoon finds its way to your mouth of its own accord. Yet it’s not sentient - it’s held by lithe fingers that guide it steadily. At your back is his arm, helping you sit up so you don’t spill over your sheets. Quietly, you shift a little closer and bask in that faint floral smell that’s like nothing in Sumeru. The only way you can explain it is if you were describing the wanderer himself.

Drinking is an easy affair, thanks to the straw he’d somehow found you, and once he’s satisfied you’ve completed the tasks he’s laid out, so too does he lay you back on your bed. With distance comes a stark loneliness, and you reach for his hand as he stands from where he’d been kneeling. “Stay? Please?”

“Let me grab a chair at least. Your floor hurts.”

You want to tell him to just climb in your bed. To let you curl around him for all the comfort he can offer, greedily taking and taking because he’s always so willing to give. But the last bit of your self-control pulls you back in, releasing your grip to allow him to drag a chair across the floor to sit at your bedside with an exasperated smile.

“Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Hm… Promise?”

“I swear it on my life. I’m not going anywhere.”

The last thought before you drift off is a quiet murmur of your heart repeating that he cares. About you, about your wellbeing. He’ll be here when your eyes open, hopefully with less of that fear he’s still holding onto. The washcloth on your forehead is changed, slim fingers wipe away stray water droplets, and all the while he hums a tune under his breath that sounds like the sweetest song.

—

The wanderer has only one devastating, debilitating flaw - he’s a worrier.

Whether it’s after a long day and you’re bone tired, or you were too busy to eat lunch, or even if you’re just feeling a little ill, he has an incessant need to coddle. On anyone else, it wouldn’t be a good look. You’re a grown adult, you can take care of yourself, keep yourself safe and cared for.

But something about the way he does it soothes any outrage you could possibly feel. Insistent, quiet, offered with a smile that seems almost pleading. And you know that while he’s making you dinner and taking on the duty of meticulously creating fruit-shaped candies for tomorrow’s weekend sale, it’s for his own sake as much as it is yours.

And so, if it keeps him smiling as he carefully pours soup into a bowl for you, you’re more than willing to let him get away with it.

Chin propped on your hand, elbow on the table, you let your eyes drift closed as the weariness of the day catches up to you. The festival over the weekend was one of the biggest in a long time, and your preparations were wearing you impossibly thin. It meant longer evenings to finish creating stock, longer days to account for new tourists, and all the stress that comes with it.

Not to mention the last straggling bits of your illness that had kept you homebound for days, still lingering after two long weeks. Your muscles still felt weak, your head still fuzzy.

But the wanderer had been a huge help, especially as the grocer had all but kicked him out of his stall to send over to yours. The grocer had been trying to foist him off on you for weeks now, and he hadn’t really needed to try that hard at all.

The sound of ceramic sliding across the table in front of you is the indication he’s dropped your food off, and you crack your eyes open just in time to see the golden pinion of his ornament dangling in front of your face as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of you freeze.

But he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. Instead, you reach with a shaking hand to the golden feather, grasping it lightly with your fingertips and rubbing your thumb along the subtle ridges. Your curiosity serves an alternate purpose; it keeps him close, prevents him from backing away from you.

A sigh breezes along your scalp, humid from his breath, and a shiver from you breaks you both out of the odd trance.

“I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, already anticipating the unwarranted apology for something you desperately wanted him to do again. Even standing above you, he looks incredibly small as his hands clutch at the opening of his kimono, worrying at the edges without a care for the wrinkles he’s creating.

Letting the feather drop back to his chest, you reach for one of his fretting hands and hold it tight enough in your own that you can’t tell if the tremors come from you or him. It could even be both. Suddenly you’re filled with anticipation so strong it makes your stomach turn painfully.

But it’s not bad. It’s welcomed, wanted. The only relief you know of is sought after with a simple question. “Could you do it again?”

“...Again?”

“If you’d like to. If it wasn’t a regretful accident.”

His lower lip disappears between his teeth for a moment, then pops out with a pink hue from the abuse. You’re only allowed a second to admire the shade before the only thing you can see is alabaster and violet, your view of the world cut off as he presses his lips to yours with a clumsiness that is borne from inexperience.

A thud rocks the table from his palm hitting it, an attempt to brace himself as he leans further into you until he’s nearly climbed into your lap. A whine brushes across your cheek through his nose - a high-pitched, cracking sort of sound that’s sweeter to your ears than any song could be, any candy could taste.

That evening, the wanderer becomes your wanderer.

And the world seems more vibrant, the music of the festival is more joyous than anything you’ve ever heard. Your wanderer closes your stall and guides you to the theatre to watch Nilou spin and sway. Her movements are nothing short of hypnotic, but hardly enough to catch your attention as you lean against him and let your eyes follow the cut of his jawline, the brush of his hair against his ear, the subtle pink of his blush as he catches you staring from the corner of his eye.

For an evening, the entirety of Teyvat feels like it’s in harmony. He smiles down at you, and the stars above shine just a little bit brighter. An arm winds around your waist to hold you closer, and the lyrics to the music lose their meaning, the tune grows meandering and unimportant compared to how he smiles so, so gently.

If asked, you’re not sure that you’d be able to think of a single thing you wouldn’t give up to recklessly chase after this feeling with him. Safe, warm, loved. It’d been there from the beginning, quietly growing subtle roots until it ingrained itself too deep to remove - as if you’d want to.

That night, you nearly tell him you love him. Something stays your tongue, but you’re not quite sure what it might have been. Tomorrow, you promise yourself as he brings you to your door and kisses you so sweetly that you can do nothing but melt in his hold. Tomorrow, you resolve as you watch him backpedal down the street, giving you that smile you favor so much.

Tomorrow, you promise the following day as the market quiets following such a busy event, unwilling to break the peace for a confession you’re not entirely confident he’s ready for. Instead, you prop your elbow on your stall’s counter and watch as he smiles at the grocer. As he squats to the level of a child that’s examining fruits, and offers one of the familiar candies from your stall to him.

Over the child’s head, he catches your eye, and the placating smile turns to one that’s teeth and pink cheeks, embarrassment at having been caught with such softness but not ashamed enough to stop. In the heat of the afternoon, the quiet murmur of the bazaar, the daylight stretching the shadows long as the sun crosses its apex and begins to descend, everything feels the closest to perfection you could ever achieve.

Tomorrow doesn’t come.

Or rather, it does, but he’s missing. The grocer mentions he’d stepped out of the city to make a run for sunsettias, then left on an errand with a golden-haired newcomer and their floating companion. The Traveler, you recognize vaguely from gossip through the grapevine. They’d keep him safe, surely, but you can’t help but feel a looming sense of dread when he doesn’t return that evening.

For the first time in months, you eat your dinner alone.

—

The tables are turned, for once. It’s you that worries over his well-being, so much so that you close your stand for the day and pace around your home like a caged animal. Certainly he must be fine, but he would’ve mentioned it to you if he were leaving, wouldn’t he? It feels wrong to not be aware of his presence, to not simply turn your head and have him at the corner of your vision as a steady presence.

The grocer stops by to drop a few pieces of produce off, an attempt to check on you and reassure you of the wanderer’s safety with the Traveler. It does little to assuage your fears - nothing does, until the door opens and it’s filled with a familiar silhouette.

Except it’s… not.

There’s a different set to his shoulders. A tension that lingers for a moment too long before it bleeds away at the sight of you. But his eyes are still the same, taking you in with immeasurable reverence that doesn’t fade even as he steps into your home that’s dimmer than the midday market outside. One, two, three long strides bring him to you, close enough to yank you to his chest and hold you impossibly tight with both arms.

“I’m sorry.”

Even the tone is different. It’s lower, more tentative, almost as if he expects you to refuse him. Adamant, you wrap your arms tight around his waist and link your hands together, squeezing with everything you can muster as you mumble into the fabric over his chest. “You should be. You had me so worried.”

“That’s… I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You’re sorry for something else?” Pulling your head back, you look up at him. Nothing could have prepared you for the way his face falls, his lip drawing between his teeth as he takes in the sight of your confusion and weariness.

There is no stalling further. His hand comes to the back of your head, bringing you back close again as he speaks over your shoulder. “I need to ask you something. Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. Even if you think it will hurt me.”

“And if it will hurt me?”

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t ask it at all.” His chest beneath your cheek shudders with his exhalation, its wavering shaking you to your core as you realize it’s tinged with tears once he continues. “If someone walked in here that looked and sounded just like me, but they were inarguably an evil person… would you still want to stay with them?”

“Looks and sounds like you…?”

“If you couldn’t tell the difference, beyond the knowledge that for the entirety of their existence, so many of the actions they’d taken were for horrible, inexcusable reasons.”

It shouldn’t be a simple answer. The question he’s posed to you has so many layers despite its surface-level simplicity. But with the way he looks at you - wild, desperate, clinging to the hope for an answer that lets him stay close to you - it only takes you a moment to come to a conclusion that settles into place like a key turning a lock. Smooth, easy, with a satisfying click.

“Whoever that person might’ve been… they’re not who you are now.” His breath hitches, stilling under where you rest your head. Whether that’s the right answer or the wrong, you’re unsure, but you’re too far to backtrack now. “I know who you are. People are allowed to change, that’s just what humans do.”

“I’m not human.”

He’s not. He’s told you so himself that he was created, not born. But it’s easy enough to forget that fact when he’s here in front of you, trembling in your arms and clinging desperately to the normalcy you’ve unknowingly provided. The front he puts up is so convincing that you’re not sure it’s even false anymore - he’s experienced all there is to being a human.

“But you’re close enough, aren’t you? You laugh, and you hurt. You’re hurting right now. And the most important part of being a human is love.” Pulling back enough to look at him, to note the shine of tears and the harshness of his bite on his bottom lip to hide its quivering, you ask, “Do you feel love?”

“Yes. So much, it’s killing me.”

“Ah, you just need to let it out then. Of course, I’d stay with you. If it’s like you say, then there’s a long road ahead, and I’m happy to walk it with you, if you’ll let me.”

Choked laughter leaves him, high-pitched and disbelieving. It signals the floodgates of his tears falling, and he releases one arm from you to rub at his eyes to catch them before they fall. It’s a futile effort, one you’re happy to see, even as he surges forward to kiss you, wetting your cheeks with his own.

Against your lips he murmurs, muffled and sloppy, “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-”

As if you would have left him after coming to know him like this. It only hurts for a second that the thought had even crossed his mind to doubt - and perhaps that doubt will creep back in over the coming days. When things are difficult or when stirrings of a life past-lived come back to rear its head, threatening the tenuous peace he’s found.

There are times that he looks at you with eyes that aren’t as familiar. They’re darker, edged sharply, but it’s still him. A different facet shining in the light, but if you tilt your head, you can see the core of him that lies beneath. Still the same, no matter how he refracts it. As he comes and goes, it feels as if a new page turns each time - some new, some old. A wildness exists that seeps through, visible only when he holds you a little too tight, kisses you a little too hard.

Unsteadiness is something he’s worn since the first day you’ve met him, and with the return of memories he’d lost, it doesn’t settle over him as often as it once had. Only when you notice the shift does he avoid your gaze, the sheepish little smile lifting the weight on your heart, and his in turn.

He’s trying. That’s enough, you think.

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #just self-indulgent fluff #technically gender neutral i guess but i lean toward F-coded readers so take from that what you will

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itwasthereaminuteago · 11 months

Text

|| Star-Crossed ||

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female reader

W/c 13.3k

Tags/warnings: Romeo & Juliet style gangster forbidden love Punisher/Daredevil AU, super-protective Matt, Jack Murdock is alive and well, some pretty old fashioned chauvinistic values, violence and injury, (protected and unprotected) p in v sex, oral (f rec), *spoiler* (kids in the future).

Author's note: Aaaaah it's finally done! I started this in December 2022 and I've had to leave and come back to it several times trying to work out how I wanted it to go. Huge big massive thanks to @mindidjarin , @the-fox-den and @theradioactivespidergwen for all the beta help!

If you enjoyed it, let me know!

Epilogue

The Italians and the Irish. The Castigliones and the Murdocks. Two mob families that have been feuding for generations. One mired in dealing arms and the other in throwing deadly punches with them - running illicit underground fight clubs and loan sharking.

Matthew Murdock was one of the best fighters in the entire city; after all he was the boxer Battlin' Jack Murdock's son. 'The Devil O' Hell's Kitchen' they called him.

And he was your big brother.

He would certainly have some choice words for you if he knew where and who you were with right now.

"Princess, fuck, you're somethin' else y'know that?"

Your body felt flushed with heat and bliss as you collapsed in Frank Castiglione's lap in the back seat of his car, laughing as his stubbled jaw tickles you when he kisses up and down your neck, like he's still hungry for you.

"You say that every time Frank," you smile as you push yourself up off him, tutting as he ties up the condom and throws it out the fogged window before cleaning himself up.

Sometimes you have to pinch yourself to remind yourself that you aren’t dreaming. When the man that was so terrifying they gave him the nickname of 'The Punisher' was between your thighs, or you were between his, life felt like a fever dream.

"I'll buy us a villa in the Lakes. You'd fuckin' love it there sweetheart, I just know it. You'll wake up and enjoy your morning coffee on the bedroom balcony overlooking the water. I'll treat you so goddamn right…"

The scene he painted with his words was so clear in your mind and yet- "Frank we can't -"

"Baby, you deserve more than what I can give you in a half hour in the back of my car."

You pretend not to hear, adjusting your dress to look a little more decent.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is enough for you.”

You sigh softly. You didn't need to see that puppy dog look of his to know life wasn’t fair.

"No Frankie, you know it's not, but I can't be with you like that… my father and Matty would kill you if I ran away to Italy with you!"

He tucks some of your disheveled hair behind your ear. "So you're just gonna keep leading me along like this, huh? I wanna be with you baby. I want you."

"Frankie I want you too, but they'll get suspicious if I spend any more time out and about. My da and brother think I'm taking a dance class right now."

He half snorts with laughter. "Yeah well when we 'dance' you do got some smokin' hot moves sweetheart; but I don't want you showin' them ones to anyone else."

"As if I would." You say with mock indignation. "Anyway, it's a good enough cover for why I'm always so worn out when I get home!"

Frank just smirks. "Let me at least take you dancing for real. Tell the old man you're going out with your girlfriends one night."

You roll your eyes. "Aye and if one of my da's men sees me out with you? You’ll be dead and I'll at least be locked up with a flippin' chastity belt forevermore after that!"

"Baby," He pleads and his words hit you in the heart and gut, "I've gotta be with you. We gotta find a way to make this work."

You push up off of him, frowning slightly. "The only way it could work is if you go straight. Get out of the family business and be respectable. Then maybe my da would at least listen to us instead of reaching for his gun."

He just laughs. "Me? Respectable? Well I wouldn't be able to give you trinkets like this if I was makin' a 'respectable' living now, could I?"

He produces a gold necklace from his waistcoat pocket and places it in your open palm, smiling at your surprise. It's a fine dainty sparkling chain with a little heart hanging from it. You turn the heart over and your breath catches in your throat as you read the small engraved letters 'FC' in flowing script.

You feel giddy. "Oh Frankie…"

"Now you have my heart, sugar."

You want to scream out. Why did you have to go and fall in love with a boy from a crime family? Why did it have to be a Castiglione? It went against everything your two families stood for. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?!

You lean forward to kiss him, fingers smoothing down his lapels. "Frank, I… I love it, but you know I can't wear it…"

He nods, resigned. "Yeah, sure." It feels like you've just kicked a puppy. You lift up your heel and slip it into your shoe for safekeeping.

"But I'll keep it with me, always."

He at least manages a smile and you kiss him again, chiding him as he sneaks his hands in places that'd make a priest blush.

"I've gotta go…"

"Ten more minutes, five even! Please babygirl, I'll make it worth your while." He pleads so prettily for the son of one of the cities' biggest mobsters and you very nearly crumble.

You extricate yourself from his grasp, trying to stay focused. If you got home late there would be questions. Your family was very protective of you. "You always make it worth my while Frankie."

"Dancing. This Friday. Wear one of your pretty dresses… mm, and don't bother with the panties."

"Frank!"

He hands you your coat, his lips pressed into a smile that you want to kiss off his face. "Can't blame me for tryin'. Fuck, I'm missin' you already."

"I'll seeya. Be careful." You say opening the car door and looking around to check the coast is clear before scooching out.

"Friday, yeah?" He calls after you hopefully.

You turn and flash him a grin as your heels clack away down the alleyway. "Friday."

"How was yer dancin'?"

You just about manage to stop yourself from jumping six feet up in the air as Matthew appeared seemingly out of nowhere as you closed the front door behind you.

"Oh excitin' and tirin', as usual." You reply, hanging up your coat and placing your keys on the sideboard.

"Where's da?" You ask, noting that his coat was missing from its usual place.

"Out. He's meetin' some new guy. One of' the big fight brokers from the other side o' town. He can fix us up with some top names, reckons we can make some real good money."

"Why aren't you with him, Matty? You bein' the best one an all…"

"Yeah I'm goin'. Wanted to make sure you got home okay first. You've been getting back later 'n later each time yer out. Da was worried. An I was too."

You laugh. "Oh Matty, you're so damn sweet, but I'm fine as you can well see. Us girls just love to gab on after, you know that."

He didn't look convinced but he nods all the same and that's when you see the blood drip down from behind his ear.

"Matthew yer bleedin'! I didn't know you had a fight tonight?" Your hands reach for his shoulders to keep him still as you have a closer look and then guide him towards the bathroom.

He shrugs. "Wasn't somethin' I planned exactly, one of the fuckin' Castiglione lads showed up at the gym.

"What? Who was it?"

It couldn't have been Frank, there was no way, but that didn't stop your heart creeping up your throat.

"One o' the younguns, just shit talkin' and tryin' to stir up trouble. Managed to clip me before I booted his arse down the street. Christ, I'd love a real excuse to fuckin' kill the lot of em…"

You stay silent, focusing your attention on gently cleaning the small cut and sticking a plaster over it.

"There. It's only a wee one, thankfully."

"Sis, yer a doll. Always lookin' out fer me." He pecks you on the cheek before grabbing his own coat and heading out. "We'll be back afore eleven. Stay inside okay?"

"Alright Matty, see you later."

It felt like you had been waiting months by the time Friday finally rolled around. You met the girls, Karen, Marci and Dinah at the dancehall, trying your best to pay attention and stay engaged in conversation but you found yourself constantly scanning the bar for him.

You freeze as you feel a hand on your waist and you whip around with your fist raised, ready to clock the slimeball who had dared to touch you.

"Woah, sweetheart!" Frank raises his hands in submission and chuckles as your expression changes from pissed to adoring in a fraction of a second.

"Frankie." You purr as he slides his arm further around your waist and takes your softening fist in his hand.

"If you're done with the fightin', may I have this dance?" He asks, leading you onto the crowded dance floor.

You nod and flash him a smile, trying to calm your excitement and allow yourself to melt into the solid mass of him, as you drift further away from your group of friends. "Missed you Frankie…"

He pulls you even closer and you can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Missed you more. You look so gorgeous darlin'," he says. He dances with you for a while, and oh, he's got all the moves - spinning you around and dipping you for several songs before he's guiding you towards a quiet corner away from prying eyes. You giggle as he noses your ear and kisses your neck, and when you meet his hungry mouth his fingertips dance up the outside of your bare thigh making you shiver.

"Someone might see!" You warn. You should break away, but you're eager for his touch and he knows it.

"Don't care. I need a taste baby. Been thinkin' bout you all week. Can you feel that?" He asks, and it's a dumb question because he's rock hard against you and it's driving you insane. Your mouth goes dry as he takes your hand and holds it over the front of his pants. "That's what you do to me princess, fuck… that's what you do."

You glance around, your nerves on fire with the excitement of getting caught but no-one is paying the two of you any mind.

"What about the bathrooms?" you pant into his mouth as he kisses you breathless again.

He grins, trying to hold in his groan as you squeeze his clothed cock in your hand. "What about 'em sweet girl?" He teases, knowing full well what you're implying.

As soon as the stall door's locked you pounce and it throws him for a loop. He's usually the one to take control but he'll be damned if he won't let you get what you want. You place both of his hands underneath your skirt right on your bare ass and you swear you could get addicted to seeing the expression that appears on his face as he realises you've honoured his request and you're not wearing a shred of underwear.

He squeezes your warm flesh as you unbuckle his belt and open his pants, taking his thick cock in your hand and giving him a few firm strokes. You slip your hand into his pocket and find what you're looking for, tearing open the packet hurriedly and rolling the condom onto him before you hike up your leg and urge him to pull you up.

It's a struggle for you both not to moan at the sensation as he sinks inside you. He turns you both so your back's against the stall, wrapping your legs around him and bracing his own legs wider so he can fuck you the way you crave.

You hear people coming into the toilets, laughing and chatting but it's no big deal, it's the kind of place that young lovers meet to spend some 'quality time' together, and you two were no different. You'd asked your friends to let you know, unlikely as it was, if any of your family appeared, so you felt as if this was the closest to having a relaxed intimate time with Frank as you could get.

You're at eye level with him as he thrusts into you against the stall, you love being able to see his face when he's inside you and watch him try to hold it together when he comes apart.

"Frankie," you moan, "oh fuck… feels so good!"

He kisses you again and it's so possessive you almost lose it, his hand reaches up to grip the top of the stall to give him more leverage to drive into you deeper and harder.

"Princess, you're a fuckin' dream. Touch yourself baby, make it feel good, that's right baby, let me feel it too."

You do as he says, unable to curb your impassioned cries as it takes almost no time at all to near the peak of your pleasure.

"F-fuck Frank- ohh god-!"

He curls in against you, his breath hot and heavy, letting go as he feels you spasm around him with the last few desperate thrusts.

"Marry me." He pants, still holding you tightly up against the stall door.

It takes a few seconds for the post orgasmic fog to clear from your brain so that you can process the words you think you just heard coming out of Frank's mouth.

"W-what?"

"Marry me darlin'. I'm askin' you to make me an honest man. Will you?"

"In the toilets? While you're still inside me?!"

He chuckles. "Hell, I know it ain't Paris, I just… I love you."

You beam from ear to ear, laughing too. Suddenly it doesn't matter where you are, you're just overflowing with unfiltered glee at his words.

"Oh Frank, I love you too!" his lips meet yours over and over, raining kisses all over your face until you're both laughing so hard you have to slip out of his embrace.

"You uh, haven't given me an answer, sweetheart..."

You can't help your sigh as you press your palm to the side of his face. "I told you before baby, a miracle would have to happen for us to be married. I want to, Frankie, I really do more than anything but I just don't see how."

He kisses you on the forehead before he cleans up and helps you fix your hair and dress. "Yeah, I know." He sighs.

You practically hop, skip and jump up the stairs when you get home, so elated with Frank's admission of love for you that the prospect of never being able to actually marry him couldn't even drag your mood down. Matt comes around the bottom of the staircase to see what all the noise was about.

"A good night then, love?"

"Oh Matty, it was just perfect!"

He smiles wide. "Glad to hear it pet, love seein' you so happy."

You were dancing around so much that you failed to notice the necklace Frank had given you fall out of your shoe and land on one of the stairs.

But Matt noticed it. You'd disappeared into your room by the time he'd picked it up intending to give it back to you. But then he ran his thumb over the charm again and again, gritting his teeth harder each time he read the engraving. He couldn't believe it.

He tried to stop the rage he felt rising from his gut, but this wouldn't stand, that was for sure. His little sister would not and could not ever be associated with that Castiglione scum. Matt's hands instinctively curled into fists. He was going to hunt down that son of a bitch and after he was done with him he knew he would never be going near you again.

When you come out of the shower and dress, the house is deadly quiet. You knew your dad was likely down at the gym training with the boys, but you called out for Matt, eager to hear about his next fixture. You loved your brother like no one else. After your mum was gone you were brought even closer together, most days you were never apart and even when he started fighting he'd always have the time to teach you some technique and even let you cut loose on him at the gym after school. He was so very protective of you when you started seeing boys, none of them were ever good enough for you and if he had his way you'd probably die a spinster.

"Matty?" His jacket was still on the peg. Then a glint on the sideboard caught your eye. The necklace.

Oh no.

Fuck, it must have fallen out earlier and he'd found it. You picked it up, brushing your thumb over Frank's initials. Your heart dropped like a stone as you knew what Matt was likely to do.

When you reach the warehouses down at the waterfront, you could already hear the commotion. A large circle of people stood near one of the huge open loading doors, mostly Castiglione men and some women, shouting and gesturing towards the center. You run up, forcing your way through the crowd to find the cause.

Your eyes find Frank first. He'd look so fine if this was any other situation. The muscles on his chest and arms rippled as he stripped down to his vest. He was wrapping his hands with cloth as a few of his clan around him amped him up with whoops and hollers.

Opposite him stood your brother, still in his regular clothes with his shirt sleeves rolled up.

Your stomach lurched with a rioting combination of butterflies and bile.

They were going to fight.

"No!" You shout, pushing your way past the crowd and running between them. You're not sure which one of them you were yelling at, your heart tearing itself in two with the prospect of what was about to happen.

"Go home wee girl," Matt barks, and Frank catches your eye.

"He's right for once baby, get out of here. You don't need to watch me beat his ass."

"Frankie, no! Just let me talk to him, you don't have to do this, you don't need to fight!" You wheel around to face your brother. Your blood.

"Please Matty, you don't understand! Stop," your eyes burn with the tears that threaten to flow. "Please don't, you can't… I love him!"

You try pushing him back but it has little effect. He keeps on staring past you in the direction of Frank, his head tilting minutely as he listens to him tie off the last of the wrap and clap his hands together, testing them.

"I think I understand enough. An' I'll be talkin' to ya later, that's for fuckin' sure, now get on home!" Matt growls.

You shiver, feeling sick with anger and the sheer frustration that the two men you love with all your heart were going to fight because of you. It wasn't heroic, it wasn't romantic, it was raw and ugly and you wished you could do something to stop them.

"You wanna set rules?" Frank asks.

Matt almost snorts with laughter. "Rules? Rules?! Don't think ya know the meanin' o' the word seein' as you've had yer greasy mitts on my fuckin' sister!"

Frank wasn't going to publicly shame you by telling him that it was you who had come to him. No, if there was ever a hope for the two of you he'd play this clean and right by your family like you wanted.

"Fine." He nods, smacking his fists together and starting to circle his opponent. "C'mon then Murdock, if you wanna do it this way, ding-ding. Let's go."

They drew up fast to each other and it was Frank who threw the first punch. Matt easily ducked it, dodging to the side and countering with his own punch that you couldn't see land through your tears; but it hit its mark as you hear that sick sound that you would usually relish when you watched the betting fights. But not today.

You run back home in a daze, unable to think of anything other than what if Matt kills him, and what will your father do to the two of you if he doesn't?

Tears continue to blind you and your heart is a dull, burning weight in your chest as you reach the front door. You can hear the TV on in the living room so you run upstairs avoiding the inevitable questions. You throw yourself on your bed and cry into your pillow until you finally hear the front door slam.

The voices of your father and Matthew are muffled at first and then your da is shouting. You cower as you expect him to come crashing through your door but it doesn't happen. A little while later there's a soft knocking at your door and Matt's voice floats through. "Little dove… c'mon lass, it's over."

You let out a loud sob, the horror of what he might have done washing over you, he'd never killed anyone before but…

"I hate you!" You push yourself up for long enough to scream through the door before burying your face in your bed covers again; pained heaving breaths wracking through your body as you cry your heart out.

He comes in and sits down on the edge of your bed as you turn away towards the wall. "You'll love me again soon enough. I've saved you a life o' heartbreak angel. He knows he won't be comin' near you again."

He sounds stuffed up, like his nose might be broken. Good. The words do little to stem the flood of anger you feel but now you know Frank is alive at least. "You can't stop me from seeing him, and you sure as hell can't control who I love!"

Matt smooths his hand over your arm but you jerk away from his touch.

"Here, shush now, you want Da rippin ya a new one? I've only just managed to calm 'im down cause he's none too happy about the situation. You're a smart girl, you know this can't be. A Murdock and a Castiglione?" Matt spat the name like the taste of it in his mouth disgusted him. "It's bloody ridiculous! There's never been a time we've not been dead set against each other. And ya better not have been tellin' him any of our business… Da will go properly spare then."

"I’ve never told him anything! I don’t care about the stupid business because I'm in love with him Matty! I love Frank and none of you can change that."

Matt sighs deeply, his voice hardens. "That's enough now! You'll get over him eventually. There are plenty of better men out there that deserve ya anyways. I won't hear any more about it, an neither will Da. It's finished."

He makes you feel like a child and you can't stop your tears. You cry softly, your blanket damp and crumpled from gripping it so hard.

Matt gets up. "We'll see ya downstairs for tea."

The door closes, and you feel more alone than ever before.

When you finally drag yourself downstairs to eat something your mouth drops open as you see Matt's face. Your earlier suspicions were correct, Frank had managed to break his nose, he had more than a couple of cuts on his brows too that Da had stitched for him, and from the way he moved around the table you could tell he was decently bruised. The fact that Frankie had gone down swinging was little comfort when it was your own kin hurt.

You ate in silence. Neither you nor your father were ready to look each other in the eye, nevermind speak. On the way to your room you looked for the necklace but it was gone.

You cried yourself to sleep.

You spent most of the day alone in your room. Your father came in to check on you, but as soon as you opened your mouth to talk about Frank, he shook his head, slammed the door and left you angry and resentful all over again.

At night you found your bedroom window locked but that wasn’t going to put a stop to your plans. Using a hair grip and a lot of determination, you jimmied it open and climbed out and down the fire escape. Nelson's was where you were headed, they owned almost the entire meatpacking district and their main shop wasn't far from the house. Everyone went there so you knew you might be able to find out about Frank.

The bell tinkled as you entered and Foggy was just closing up. But as soon as he saw it was you, he pulled off his apron and leapt over the counter to wrap his arms around you.

"Oh honey!"

"You heard?"

"You're surprised?" He asks as he leads you to the back of the shop so you're not seen. "It's pretty much all anyone's talking about. Actually thought your old man would have you locked in."

"Yeah well, so did he…"

Foggy laughs at that. He's Matt's best friend and practically family to you, and out of all of them he's the one that doesn't treat you like you're still a kid. You could trust him not to grass you up for sneaking out.

"Foggy, please tell me, have you heard anything about Frank, is he okay?"

"Well your bro didn't pull his punches… He's pretty banged up from what I've heard, and uh, he’s in the infirmary. That much I do know."

Your heart feels like it's banging against your ribs and your stomach twists into a tight knot. "Oh my god, Foggy it's that bad? Wh- I need to- I need to see him!"

Foggy places his hands gently on your shoulders trying his best to calm you down. "Hey, it's okay. As far as I know it was just a precaution for concussion. Um, and for stitches, cracked ribs, and stuff. I know it's not what you wanna hear, but it coulda been a hell of a lot worse."

You swallow past the huge lump that's formed in your throat thinking about some of your brother's unluckier past opponents. "Yeah…"

He sits you down, gesturing at the makeshift bar beside him. "Tea, or…?"

"Something stronger, Fog."

Foggy sighs and uncaps a half full bottle of scotch. He pours two glasses, and you quickly down the scotch, not caring about how rough it is or how much it burns.

"You know I don't judge but geez, what have you gotten yourself into?"

You grip the glass tightly and wait for Foggy to give you another finger of scotch before answering. "He's so good to me, Foggy.. Nobody sees it and no one understands. They're just blinded by this fucking age old rivalry between our families. it's insane! I love him, he loves me and I don’t know why everyone can't just mind their goddamn business? Why can't we just be together?!"

He sighs again, deeper and more fraught this time. "The thing is, this is much bigger than love hon. This… it could trigger another war. You think your pop is pissed at you? I don't even wanna imagine what Don Castiglione is gonna do to his son even after what Matt's done to him over this. Your families don't cross, and when they do blood is always spilled!"

Your brows knit together, face falling at the thought of how Frank might be punished, how he'd be kept from seeing you too. "Foggy, I need to see him. I know you must have contacts, you can help us meet without anyone knowing… please? Please can you do this for me?"

Foggy paces nervously. He loves you so much, would do near anything for you but…

He runs his hand slowly down his face. "Look, you just can't be seen near Frank at all, okay? You can't risk that and neither can I. But I do know someone; a nurse actually. She's a good friend and I might be able to get a note to him for you through her. But that's it, okay?"

He wheezes at the surprising force as you fling your arms around him and he gives you a small smile as you hug him tightly in gratitude.

"Thank you, Foggy!"

"There's our big cock-for-brains! How're the ribs, Francesco?"

Frank winces as he shifts on the couch to sit up as Billy swaggers in and throws himself down beside him.

"Better, asshole." he grumbles back.

Billy smirks. "Oh! Last time I checked I wasn't secretly fucking a Murdock but I'm the asshole? Heh, yeah that's a good one."

Frank doesn't even dignify his comment with a response but Billy keeps going.

"So, is she nasty? I'll bet she is. Does she fuck as well as that brother of hers fights? Actually, thinkin' about it she does seem to spend a lot of time with him-".

Billy gags as Frank suddenly grabs him around the throat, ignoring the dull pain in his body as he pushes him hard into the seat, choking.

"C-christ Frankie relax, I take it back! Fuck, I don't mean it, I just needed to know how serious you are about this girl!"

Frank lets him go with a growl. "You're fuckin' lucky you got such a pretty face Bill. If you were anyone else I woulda messed it up. 'Course I'm serious."

"Yeah, yeah I can see that," he half laughs, coughing and rubbing at his throat. "Well, you better have this then." He hands Frank a folded up piece of paper.

Frank's eyes light up as they flit over your words, but then he scrubs his hand over his face shaking his head, his worries sinking in.

"What is it?"

"Shit, she thinks it's her fault that we were found out. Shouldn't have given her that damn necklace… should have been more careful… fuck!" He pushes himself up with a groan and starts pacing the room, the muscle in his jaw twitching and ticking as he thinks.

"I've fucked this up. I need to see her."

Billy's expression turns to concern. "Frankie, you love this girl, right?"

The intensity of Frank's look gives him the only answer he needs.

"Maybe you should just lay low for a while. The last thing you wanna do is potentially stir more shit up and get both of you in an even worse way. Just keep your head down, focus on the work, and then… who knows? Hell might freeze over."

Frank hates the idea of you thinking he's abandoned you, it guts him, but he knows Billy's right. He has to keep his distance for now.

Fuck, he misses you.

A week goes by after you gave Foggy the note. And then another… and another. He can't possibly have given up on you, surely? But hope of ever seeing him again in the way that you did before starts fading quickly along with your anger at your brother. You had blamed him for everything, for perpetuating the rivalry, for telling your father, for putting Frank off you. You cried until you felt as though you had no tears left to cry.

Matt tries his utmost to distract you from your moroseness, dragging you along to his fight fixtures that you used to love watching. But every one of his opponents that he beats just makes you think of Frank.

There had been word of a huge arms shipment arriving at the docks later that week. Your father, uncles, and cousins spent most of their time planning on how they would get their hands on it before the Castiglione's could. It was a major job and a big risk, but if they could pull it off, it'd mean they could start selling weapons on the side and make even more money. You tried to talk your da out of it, piling up all the reasons he shouldn't get involved. But if there was anyone he was gonna take family business advice from, it was not going to be you.

"Matty I don't like this. We’ve got enough fingers in pies surely? We're doing alright, why is he so keen on going ahead with this job?"

Matt bounced gently against the ropes of the ring. "He wants to get one up on the Castiglione's, angel. He won' let your little dalliance hold shame over us, he wants everyone to know who's boss."

Shame. The word made you grit your teeth till your jaw hurt, you were sick of this. Your father was a proud man, too proud sometimes. Nothing about it felt right but neither Matt nor your da would give your concerns the time of day.

When the big night arrived you were ordered to stay behind, meet up with your girlfriends and go dancing or see a movie or something. Stay out of trouble.

Like hell.

You carried on as if you were happy to stay home, but as soon as Matt and your da left to meet the others at the warehouse you followed a little way behind. You couldn't shake off the bad feeling that was slithering up your spine.

Frank smacked the cartridge back into the handgun he had just finished cleaning and laid it down on the massive table along with a gleaming array of other weapons.

"Ragazzo, you ready?" Billy's voice drew him out of his silent brooding.

"Yeah, yeah. Gear up and we'll head to the docks. M'just itchin' for somebody to step out of line." Frank growls, slipping his gun in the back of his pants.

Billy throws him a grin and secretes his own arsenal of firearms and knives about his body. "Y'know, I kinda hope they do, I just love to watch you work, Frankie."

It was late when the boat docked. The Murdocks had intercepted it on its way in further down the river, overturned the guards and crew and steamed in ready for when the Castiglione's would inevitably be waiting for their delivery. You knew a couple of your cousins were stationed around the yard, lurking in the shadows of the huge containers just like you were. You knew how to stay hidden and move like a shadow when you needed to. Once a Murdock…

You see the Don's men arrive right on time, none the wiser as to what has happened until the gangplank is lowered and it's your da that steps out, flanked by two of his heavily armed henchmen. You couldn't see your brother.

"What the fuck is this?" Don Castiglione spits. He is every inch the gangster, tall, broad and extremely intimidating. You'd never seen him this close before but you could now see a bit of him in Frank.

"You Irish mutts think you can just take what's mine, huh? I'm insulted! You should stay in your own little game Murdock. Take my advice, the guns do not suit you.

His men move forward and your da holds up a hand. "Now fellas, we don't wan any bloodshed tonight. If ye take a look around you'll find yer outnumbered n' outgunned. So, if ye will jist step aside we'll be loadin' these up in our trucks and'll get out of yer way and we'll hear no more about it, right?"

You see the rest of the Castigliones gradually appearing from out of the woodwork, and then you see him. Your heart sighs with relief that he's okay as far as you could make out. The glint of his piece shines in the moonlight as he moves to stand near the Don, who whispers something to him.

"Francesco, you are going to make good on your… mistake, and bring me my guns, capiche?"

They stand stock still for a long moment as Frank stares him down before they both suddenly spin on their heels as a deep voice like burnt gravel cuts the silence; effectively interrupting the confrontation.

"Gentlemen. I believe I can resolve this rather… delicate situation that we have here…"

It's Wilson Fisk. The fucking Kingpin.

The metallic clack of weapons all around being raised and aimed at the newcomer echoes around the yard. However, the huge figure and his men remain unperturbed.

"Mr Murdock," he continued calmly, "if you would please step aside, I will take what is mine."

Your blood runs cold. You knew your da would never back down. He was stubborn and tenacious and had definitely passed that trait on to you and Matt. Damn his fucking pride, you wanted to run out between them. Where the hell was Matty?

Just as you predicted your da stood his ground, finger hovering near the trigger.

"Y'think yer the fatcat around here don't ya, son? Well, I'm 'fraid to say that yer jist plain fat. Now run along an' let us men finish our business eh?"

Time slowed to a crawl. It was like everything was running through a sea of molasses. A shadow leaps over the railing of the boat onto the dock, it's running towards Fisk's men, Frank runs too as you see too late as Fisk's right-hand man raising his gun at your father. The shadow plows right into the second man who had also brought out his weapon, tackling him down to the asphalt. Several shots ring out like cracks of thunder and you scream as all you can see is your father dropping to the ground, there are more gunshots and then it's all over as quickly as it had begun. Your eyes frantically search the scene trying to understand what had just happened.

Fisk is gone; disappeared into thin air along with one of his men. The other of Fisk’s henchmen was lying in a pool of blood at Matt's feet, one or both of the families had shot and killed him. You run out as you see your father being helped to his feet by Matt. They are alive and unhurt and you thank whatever gods would listen.

It's then you see another body lying limp in front of them.

"No….no no no!" You hurtle across the yard towards it, Billy Russo and the Don are heading exactly the same direction.

Towards Frank.

"Jesus Christ girl, what are you doing here?!" Matt rages at you. You fall to your knees as Billy turns Frank over onto his back, feeling for a pulse and listening for a breath; any sign that he is still alive.

Your father's voice is muddied in the background as the two families crowd around the scene. "H-He… that boy saved my life… he saved ma fuckin' life!"

Blood seeps from Frank's stomach onto the ground.

"Frankie no, no don't die! Don't you fucking die! You hear me?!" Tears flood down your face as you grab his hand and squeeze. Billy puts pressure on the wound, slapping his face a couple of times trying to get him conscious. "C'mon bro, c'mon wake up for me! Wake up!"

A van screeches up nearby and the Don orders his men to lift Frank and put him into the back. You climb in beside him, ignoring their protestations and grateful for Billy who snaps at them in finality. "She's coming with us.."

Matt runs up to the van after making sure your da is taken care of. "No… c'mon we need to get gone. You shouldn't even be here!"

"He saved our da, is that not worth anything?" You sob at him as Billy climbs in with you.

"Leave her be." Billy says. He slides the door shut and Matt's left standing as the van speeds off into the night.

Frank suddenly draws a wheezing breath as you hold onto his hand in the back of the van.

"Oh thank fuck. Frank! Frank, can you hear me?" Billy practically yells at him, ripping up his shirt and pressing it to the bullet wound as Frank gasps and groans in pain.

"Y-you holdin' my hand Russo?" He croaks, and you give it a squeeze, leaning over him so he can see you.

Your eyes briefly flick up to meet those of the Don, who has been silent the whole time.

"Frankie, you're okay." You tell your lover. "They're taking you to a doctor. You're gonna be okay."

"Darlin'," he tries to sit up, starting to cough and you hold him down. "What you doin' he-" he coughs again and Billy helps keep him still.

"Shh, yeah I'm here, just don't move, don't move." You try not to think about how much red there is pouring out of him and onto your hands.

"Fuck… fuck it hurts- your dad, he okay?"

You stroke your fingers through his hair and try to smile. "Yes, oh god Frank, yes he's fine, he's fine! Now shh, don't speak, just hold on for me alright? You're gonna be okay, it won't be long.

You share a worried glance with Billy and hope that it's not far now.

Billy barrels through the A&E doors ahead of you and the Don's men who are carrying Frank.

"We need help here! Where's Claire? Get me Claire Temple!" he growls, taking an empty gurney from a nearby orderly and helping get Frank on it as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

A woman in scrubs very quickly appears from the triage area and immediately takes control.

"Okay… we got a gunshot wound, anything else you wanna tell me? Was he conscious before now?" she asks you. A flash of recognition passes between you both, you had seen her patch Matt up after his fights a few times.

"No, no nothing else, yeah he was talking just a moment ago. He's lost a lot of blood on the way, can you help him, please?!" You plead.

"We'll do our best. Please wait here."

Billy pulls you along as you both follow after the crash team taking Frank through the double doors, but Claire stops him short after she lets Frank's father go through with them.

"Hey, we're family too!" He protests.

"There's too many of you to let into the room, please, just wait here. Someone will update you as soon as we can. Right now, our main priority is to get him stabilised. Please, let us do our job."

The two of you reluctantly move over to the seating area as the other men go back outside to the van. Billy paces as you sit chewing your nails down to the quick.

"What you said…"

"What?" Billy asked.

"'We're family'." You say, catching his eye.

He stops his pacing, looking at you with sincerity. "If you're important to Frank, you're important to me. It's that simple."

You give him a small nod, returning to biting your nails and waiting with worry.

Billy sits down beside you. "I'm sure he'll pull through. The fucker is hard to kill." he smiles and you return it, thankful that he's here.

"Yeah, he's gotta be alright."

After a few hours, Claire comes through the doors and you and Billy quickly get to your feet.

"He's stable. We were able to take the bullet out. It nicked an artery on the way in, but thankfully it missed his vital organs. We did have to give him a transfusion as he had lost a lot of blood. But, he's been stitched up and resting comfortably.”

"Oh my god," you felt the leaden weight lift off your shoulders slightly. "Claire, I can't thank you enough… Can we see him?"

She nods. “You can. Just know that’s going to be groggy from the drugs we gave him. But I’m sure he’ll still appreciate the company.” You and Billy thank Claire before going into Frank’s room.

He was groggy as Claire had warned you, but he returned the soft squeeze of your hand as you knelt down beside the bed. "Frankie, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"See, told you he was hard to kill." Billy said, patting Frank on the leg and smiling at him.

Frank chuckles, wincing slightly. "Yeah, you're not gettin' rid of me that easily. Baby, I'm sorry I got you into trouble. It's all my fault." He's looking into your eyes as he speaks, his hand reaching weakly for your face and you feel the bite of tears returning.

"Hey now, don't you cry over me darlin', I'll be alright. Everything's gonna be just fine, you didn't do nothin' wrong."

You sniff and laugh a little, stroking his hand that's cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears. "I'm the one that's supposed to be saying that! I missed you…"

"I missed you too. Not that I don't appreciate it, but you shouldn't be here. You should be with your family. With Fisk back on the scene it's dangerous baby, for all of us. What were you even doin' down at the docks?"

"I just had a bad feeling…" you interlace your fingers through his. "...but because of you my father is alive and well. I'm right where I need to be."

You're suddenly aware of an imposing presence as the Don entered the room. The man's even bigger than you had thought on seeing him up close.

"Ah, so finally I get to meet the bella ragazza causing all of the trouble? The little bird that has my Francesco's heart, hm?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "Papa…"

You step forward. "I- I'm sorry Don Castiglione, I really didn't mean to-"

He takes your hand kissing the back of it briefly. "You make my boy happy, and so I am happy. So good to finally meet you, however I wish it were under better circumstances."

You swallow your nervousness down, nodding, actually surprised with how easy going he seems in private. "Thank you sir, it's great to meet you too."

"We are taking Francesco home tomorrow to recuperate, why don't you come and stay at the house with us? We have many rooms and I am certain he will recover faster if his love is nearby, hm?"

You're unsure what to say to such a generous offer, but Frank answers for you. "She'd love to papa."

You nod politely, still a little intimidated by the Don. "I would, but only if you're sure."

"It would be my pleasure, my dear."

Frank kisses the back of your hand. "Alright, I hate to say it but you better scoot, sweet thing. There's some shit we need to sort out…"

You sigh, not even being shot could stop the 'big men' from having their secret meetings. You bid the Don thanks and goodnight and catch Billy at the door. "Please will you make sure that he rests tonight and he doesn't do anything too stupid?"

Billy just chuckles, "you know that's an impossible ask, right?" He pulls you into a quick but surprisingly heartfelt hug as you stand up. "But I'll do my best bella nemica.

Frank can't help laughing softly at the nickname, groaning at the pain as it makes his stitches pull. "Oh that's a good one Bill, I'm stealin' that. You take care darlin', love you so much."

"I love you Frankie, I'll see you tomorrow!"

As you walk out into the hospital foyer you find your father waiting for you.

"Da, I…"

He pulls you into his arms, squeezing you so tight and you hug him back, relieved. "You shouldn't have been there tonight…"

You slump against him, the exhaustion from everything that happened suddenly hitting you like a truck. "I know, I'm sorry. I had to come, I was worried about you both. I'm so glad you're alright."

"Is he… okay?"

You're surprised he cares at all about Frank but you nod. "Yeah, I've just seen him, he'll be fine. Where's Matty?"

"Out with boys patrollin', makin sure the streets are safe. Listen pet, I'm reckonin' we need to meet with the Castigliones to try an' organise some kind of truce. If Fisk is back and makin' a play to control the Kitchen we're gonna need more people an' it makes sense to join our forces."

You stare at him, your eyes wide not daring to believe. "Tell me you're serious. Please tell me you mean that da."

"That boy saved ma life, little dove. An it's war now, this changes things."

"But you've always hated them! Is Fisk really such bad news that you'd forget everything you drilled into me and ally with them?"

"Darlin, ye have no idea…"

When you get back home you spend most of the night into the early morning talking with your father. He asks so many questions about Frank. He asks about his family and about your relationship, and you answer what you can. In turn you grill him about Fisk, and he paints a dour and terrifying picture. You understand now why he'd go back on his previous vow.

"I need ya to arrange a meetin' with the Don. D'ya think you can talk to yer lad about it pet?"

"Uhuh, actually he offered me a room there so I could spend some time with Frank while he recovers… but I know what you're going to say so-"

He cuts you off. "Ye knew I was goin' to tell ye that ah think ye should go?"

Your jaw almost hits the floor in disbelief. "You do?"

"Aye, you'll be safe enough there. Don's got a lotta men, an' that Russo I know is a good shot."

"Matty won't be happy."

"No, but don't you worry 'bout that, I'll see to 'im."

You look into your father's eyes, and you can see he's asking for your help. You were scared. Kingpin had taken control of the shipment after everyone had scattered and who knew what else he had up his sleeve or when he'd choose to strike next.

But this… this might just be the way to bring him down. If he knew anything about Hell's Kitchen, he'd never suspect an alliance like this. Fuck, even you would never had imagined it could be possible.

The next morning you pack a bag, call a cab and go over what you're going to say to the Don when you get there. Matt must have stayed at the gym last night and you don't get a chance to speak with him. In a way you're almost glad as he'd probably chew you a new one for doing this.

The cab pulls up on the huge gravel drive and four well-armed guys in fine fitting suits give you a thorough once over and check your bag when you get out.

"Hey! Keep your paws to yourselves, you animals. She's good." You are so relieved to hear Billy's voice, and he flashes you his charming smile while guiding you towards the imposing front door.

"We figured Francesco would be safer here. The doc at the hospital wasn't keen on that idea, but what can they do?" He takes you straight inside. "You are here to help me look after the lil shit, aren't you?"

You follow him down the marble floored hallway, your eyes flitting around taking in the rather opulent but classic decor. "Of course, and who wouldn't rather recuperate at home if it's like this, holy crap!"

Billy smirks as he opens a door and ushers you inside the plush room.

You were so pleased to see Frank's smile. "Am I glad to see you again, sweetness." He tells you.

You bound across the floor to the huge bed that your beau is resting in. You're relieved that he looks so much better. You hold his face in your hands and are happy to see that he's back to a healthy colour. You pepper gentle kisses all over him, letting him know how happy you are that he’s better. Billy leaves you both to it and you're grateful to have some time alone with Frank. And so it seems, is he.

"Frankie, you look good, how are you feeling today?" you ask, squealing in surprise when he pulls you into the bed to lie beside him.

"Careful baby!" You exclaim before he's capturing your lips, not caring about the pain in the side of his gut if he gets to taste and feel you again. That wild want is there in his eyes when you break away and it's hard for you to resist giving in to it when his hands begin to roam over you.

"God I've missed you, missed having you…"

You huff at him. "Frank, you know I'd want nothing more… but you've got to rest, you've been shot for Christ's sake!!"

"Yeah, yeah I know," he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up mischievously. "but there's still some things I can do…"

You feel the heat in your face even as you shake your head at the audacity of him. He never gives up, yet another thing you love about him.

"Just be serious for a minute. My da’s asked if you can arrange a meeting between your father and him. He thinks our families should work together to stop Fisk."

He stops messing with you as he considers it. "Well shit, ain't the worst idea. And you agree?"

"I do. It makes sense, and it's the last thing Fisk would expect.

Frank mulls it over for a moment and then calls for Billy. "Hey man, can you get my dad in? Think we've got a proposal for him."

You're suddenly nervous for a different reason, hurriedly standing and smoothing down your clothes as the door opens. Frank reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, don't you worry baby." He reassures you under his breath. "Just tell him what you told me."

When you relate your own father's thoughts to the Don you're surprised when he doesn't interrupt, instead listening intently.

"...and where might the meeting happen?" He asks with interest.

"I think I know a place."

Foggy's in good spirits when you drop in to the shop. He’s glad that you’re okay, but his pleasant mood doesn't last when he hears what you've got to ask him.

“You want me to have The Murdocks and Castigliones under the same roof? Are you kidding me?”

"But your place is neutral ground, Foggy! There won't be any trouble I promise you."

He paces around frantically. "No trouble?! You can't promise me that!"

You fiddle with the snack display by the counter. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but if we can stop Fisk from becoming a permanent fixture everyone will be better off. Please Foggy, for the sake of the Kitchen." He stops his frantic pacing and pins you with a worried look.

“Fine. But if anyone gets shot, remind yourself I told you this was a bad idea.”

A couple of weeks later you found that Foggy wasn't exactly wrong in what he had told you. With the heads of both families and their closest lieutenants gathered in the large space of the Nelson's back room, the air quickly grew thick with tension. Matt arrived first with your father; stopping in his tracks as soon as he sensed you. You hadn't seen each other since that night at the docks.

"Matty-" you start. "alrigh' dove." he replies, only giving you a curt nod as he makes his way to the end of the long table. You sigh. This was going to be a long night.

When Frank comes in Matt stands quickly, his chair shrieking along the floor with his fists bunched at his sides. The Castigliones bristle, fingers itching and ready to reach for weapons. The tension was ramping up fast and it felt as though the meeting was about to fail even before it could begin.

"Ahh there he is. The golden boy. Fuckin’ cunt of the hour." Matt snaps.

"'The hell…?" Frank starts.

You found yourself getting to your feet.

"Christ Matt, will you just behave? Frank saved our da's life, does that mean nothing to you?"

"Aye it goes a way, but does he think he's better than us? That you're safer with him, with them, than us? Was that why you didn't come home, pet? Was this all his fuckin' idea too?!"

You'd never seen Matt this upset and angry before. You had to calm him down before something irreversible kicked off between the families. Frank shot you a concerned look but didn't interfere; knowing that anything he said could make things even worse. You pull Matty aside, whisper-yelling at him.

"Hey, listen to me Matt. Me staying at the Don's was da's idea, and getting everyone together was his too! Did you not know that?" You hiss.

Matt huffs. "No. I just thought that…" he paces before running a hand down your arm. "we're the ones that keep ya safe, love, yer family. Not them. It just feels like-" he stops himself, unable to fully admit his jealousy.

You urge him to continue, you don't want there to be bad blood between the two of you, especially now.

"I worry about ya dove. I know ya say ya love 'im, I just don' wanna see y'get hurt. When you're wit me, you're safe, y'can't get hurt. You know I love you too."

His expression is so honest it makes your heart burn.

"Matty, I love you so much, and I know you're just looking out for me but please, you've got to let me live my life for myself. I'm a grown woman now. You don't need to keep protecting me from everything!"

He sighs with resignation and you squeeze his arm.

"I know you're not sure about Frank but he really does love me, and I don't believe that he'd ever hurt me intentionally. And this? This is the best shot we've got at Fisk, you know that. Please don't throw this away Matt, do it for the Kitchen if not for me!"

He softens as you plead, "I'll do it for both of youse."

You kiss him on the cheek and whisper a sincere thank you before returning to the table where discussion is already underway. You walk over to stand beside Frank and kiss him swiftly. He's a little surprised that you'd make your relationship so public with the current situation as it is.

"S'everythin' okay princess?" He asks nervously as you place your hand in his, and let out a thankful sigh along with a shitload of tension.

"Everything's grand, Frankie." You say with a genuine smile. "Let's get this started."

The heads of the families agreed that they needed to find out what resources Fisk had, how many men and how much firepower he possessed before they made their move. It was proposed that members from each side should scout it out, and ultimately it was decided that Matthew and Frank would go.

As you watched Frank slip his pistol into his holster and give you a wink, you were reminded of the day you had first laid eyes on him. It felt like a lifetime ago even though it had been just over a year since you'd walked to the store with Matty, and Frank and Billy had been in there.

"Well that's my day ruined. Can't breathe in this town without runnin' into a Murdock, or two." Billy had remarked, looking you up and down with dark eyes and a devilish smile.

Matt stiffened, moving in front of you, jaw and fists clenched. "Y'know this is our territory Russo, so get lost or I'll help ya find your way out..."

However, your attention had been on Billy's companion, who you would later find out was the Don's son. His face was set hard, but he had warm brown eyes, and a big boxer's nose that drew your gaze. When they had left the store Frank had looked back over his shoulder, the faintest smile on his lips as he threw a wink your way and you found your face heating up.

Now they were heading into dangerous territory working together. Your heart was in your mouth as they both finished kitting up, arming themselves to the teeth just in case shit happened to go south.

"Please be careful." You say to Matt, your words somewhere between a prayer and a blessing.

"M'always careful, love." He replies before he lets Frank talk to you.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it as he looks into your eyes with a serious expression. "You promise me you'll go straight on home, yeah? Don't want you on these streets tonight baby."

You stroke the side of his face and bring your forehead to touch against his, breathing him in. "I promise. And promise me you'll look after each other."

Both men nod and then head for the door and you and your father head for home.

Matt stops Frank with his arm as he listens to check that the way is clear for them.

"Alrigh', we're good." He confirms after a couple of beats.

"Reckon we can get a read on em from up on that roof there, it covers most of their exits." Frank suggests, and Matt nods and follows. When they're situated, hunkered down side by side behind a low wall, Frank feels the oppression of something waiting to be said. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he clenches it and he can't stand it anymore.

"C'mon man, can we just get this over with? Say what you gotta say, I know you wanna. I can take it."

Matt swallows his pride and turns to his former foe after taking a pensive breath.

"Yeah, you're right, I have got somethin' t'say to ya. M'sorry. I was wrong about ya an I've been a right shitebag to you an ma sister all this time. But, there's a right thing to be done an' I'm hopin' tha we can move on?"

That wasn't what Frank had expected at all, a swift one-two knocking his brain around in his skull, but it felt like a dark cloud was lifting and he actually started to smile.

"I know you're just lookin' out for her Murdock, I get it, and I really appreciate you sayin' that. Might not have seemed like it but I've got a lot of respect for your family after meetin' that girl."

Matt nods. "Feelin's mutual. I shoulda just trusted her in the first place but y'know what's she's like, always gettin' hersel' into trouble."

Frank chuckles quietly. "Don't I know it."

They keep watch for a few more hours, noting the comings and goings of Fisk's men. After clocking where the weapons are stored, they manage to sneak in and get a good idea of what kind of firepower they have before reporting back.

The two long feuding families of Hell's Kitchen drive the Kingpin out of their territory in a spectacular blaze of fire and fists. He certainly didn't expect the Murdocks and Castigliones to team up and take back what was theirs; which was a huge advantage for the families. When Frank and your brother returned triumphant you leapt into Frank's arms, kissing him over and over and until he was almost begging for air.

When word spread of the victory everyone headed to Josie's to celebrate, but Frank knew his fight wasn't quite over. There was something else he had to do.

He's feeling like he knows real fear for the first time in a long while as he approaches Jack Murdock in the bar. He's got just one aim. One question.

Jack nods at him as he comes over, signaling the bartender to pour them a couple of whiskeys.

"Alright lad? We did good, eh?"

"Yeah, that we did. You, uh, know why I'm here?"

"Aye son, I know. C'mon then, out with it." Jack says to him.

Frank's mouth nervously forces a smile and he takes a deep breath before he begins.

"Sir, I'm sure by now you know just how much I care for your daughter, and if you don't, well… thing is I love her. Love her with all my soul and with your blessin', I want to ask her to spend the rest of our lives together.."

Your da raises an eyebrow. "Oh aye, is that so? An' would ya do right by her? 'Cos ya know if y'don't you'll have the whole clan comin down on ye like hellfire?"

"I know that and I will. She's my life now sir, couldn't love no one else more."

"Alright boy, but y'know we'll be watchin' ya."

He grins and raises his glass to Frank's own. "Well y'have my blessin', and I've no doubt she'll be happy wit ye."

Frank breathes out a solid sigh of relief and can't wait to tell you, to ask you to be his forever.

When he does it's a little bit more romantic than a toilet stall in the dancehall. He picks you up in his car the next evening. He's got the top down and is waiting next to the open passenger door as you step out of your house. You take his breath away every single time he sees you but tonight it's different, you no longer have to hide your love for each other. He takes your hand, takes all of you in, your dress, your hair, your beautiful smile. He knows he's a lucky man.

"Where are we going to baby?" You ask, but he only smiles and tells you to hold tight. You're curled around his arm the whole way as he drives you both to the hills outside of the city.

When he pulls up at a quiet parking spot you get out and can see the twinkle of the city lights below mirroring that of the starry sky. When you turn around to show your excitement he's pulling a hamper and blankets out of the trunk.

"Oh Frankie, this is so gorgeous! Thank you so much!" You squeal as you help lay out a blanket and he digs out some delicious treats, glasses, and a bottle of wine.

"Gorgeous spot for my gorgeous girl."

He opens the bottle then fills your glass and his own, and you raise them to clink and take a sip. He watches you looking out at the view, a mild breeze weaving through your hair. You're just sitting there and he almost can't believe how head over heels he is for you. Things could have turned out so differently but he's eternally grateful that they didn't.

When you turn to him you can't help but giggle at the insanely adoring way he's looking at you.

"What is it?" You smile, taking a bite from a plump red cherry.

Frank brings his hand up to the side of your face, his thumb passing lightly over your lips as you look up at him with your big eyes.

"God, I just…"

You tilt your head in curiosity as he reaches into the hamper for something, producing a small black box which he opens in front of you on bended knee. It's his mother's ring, a delicate and twisting precious metal band set with a small sparkling diamond glinting up at you.

"Oh Frank…" you gasp, any other words are lost in your surprise but he carries on.

"I love you baby, so goddamn much. And I know I asked you before but I'm askin' you now, proper. Your da gave me his blessing and I'm hopin' that you will too… please say yes darlin' and marry me? I've wanted to be yours since the first damn time I saw you. What do you say? Talk to me baby, don't leave me hangin' like this!"

Your hands come up to frame his face and you kiss him over and over and over as you answer an excited 'yes!' between every one. He's laughing with a smile so big as you hold out your hand for him to gently take the ring and slip it on your finger where it fits perfectly.

You kiss him again, this time it's slow and lingering on the lips and he wraps you up in his embrace as he deepens it, laying you down on the blanket underneath him. Your fingers slide into his hair and his hands squeeze the roundness of your ass eager to feel each other as your kisses become more heated and desperate.

Your eyes meet. "I'm yours forever now, Frank, make me feel like it."

He wastes no time answering your request, running his hands over your body, nipping and kissing at your earlobe and just below as he caresses your breast, and you push your hips up against his moaning with pleasure. You slip a hand down to feel his hardening cock through his pants, frantically scrabbling to loosen his belt and free him as he curls his fingers around the waistband of your panties pulling them down, his lips almost never leaving your skin.

"Baby, baby… mm, goddamn you're so perfect for me." He murmurs and you let the night sky hear just how good he makes you feel as he slides his fingers through your slick folds, teasing at your clit with light strokes.

"Yeah, you like that, huh? That what you need?"

"Frank please, I can't wait! Just- I need you…" you plead, pressing your body up against him and stroking your soft hands up and down his erection to make sure he gets the message.

"Oh shiiiit… alright sweetheart, shh-shh. I got you, I got you…" he whispers against your skin as he pushes his pants down and your silky dress up, quickly rolling on a condom. He moans along with you as he finally sheaths his thick length inside where you need him the most. both of you gasp at the feeling. You claw at his shirt, pull him as close as you can when he starts to rock into you. Every thrust of his hips has you desperate for the next, you want him so deep so that you can feel him for days after this and you tell him so, driving him crazy and making him fuck you even harder.

"Anythin' you want, I'll give you anythin' love, just wanna see your pretty face when you come for me."

He wraps a strong hand under your thigh, pulling it up making you moan out again at the new delicious angle, arching underneath him as he draws back almost all the way out and then fills you back up again, taking you so easily to the edge of an earth shattering climax. His hand comes up to cradle your face, watching you, seeing the love he feels for you reflected in your beautiful eyes.

"Frankie, you're gonna make me-" As you approach the precipice, the only thing in your mind is that he's yours and you are his.

He seals his mouth over yours, tongue teasing against your own, your whimpers muted as he does all he can to make you fall apart, to pulse and clench around him, your vision whiting out with only this blissful sensation spreading through your body and the sound of his voice in your ears while he talks you through it.

"Yeah baby, that's it my sweet girl… god I love you so fucking much-"

You cry out to the stars as you share in this intimate moment, showering each other in endless, breathless declarations of love.

Epilogue

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle AU #punisher AU #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #romeo & julier gangster AU #daredevil AU

180 notes · View notes

crystillyzed · 10 months

Text

safe and sound // sonny brisko

pairing: yandere!sonny x gn!reader

summary:

no matter where where you go, he's always watching you.

HEAVY warning(s): dark content, yandere sonny, stalking, manipulation (emotional abuse), guilt tripping, victim blaming, SUPER toxic relationship

disclaimer: i do NOT approve any of the characters’ actions and behavior in real life! if you are in a situation exhibiting this type of behavior, please consider receiving help! and all vtuber related work is not for the streamer behind the avatar, but for the character themselves!

a/n: i saw this clip the other day and now i gotta write it 🤭 also PLEASE read the warnings! by clicking/tapping on the read more, you are willing to read dark content/yandere content that may potentially trigger you.

"Ah, there you are, darling! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Sonny?!" Shit. How did he find you? He always put some sort of tracking device on you, even on your clothes when you're sleeping. You were pretty sure you destroyed any sort of wiretap and camera, and you're sure you left everything behind. No phone, no electronics, nothing! So how the hell?

"Oh? You look surprised. Did I scare you?"

"No! No, it's just... um..."

Shit. How can you get out of this?

He chuckles deeply behind his mask. "Didn't I tell you?" Step by step, the black capped blonde approaches you slowly, essentially forcing you to back yourself to the brick wall. "I'm always watching."

Taking out his phone from his pocket, the device lights up as he holds the screen towards your face. Your eyes widen in shock as he shows you security footage from surrounding buildings not too long ago. Footage of your whereabouts outside of stores and in the streets.

“You’ve been following me?”

"Of course! I'm not that cruel. I only love you, that's all. What's so hard about that?" He lowers his mask to hang beneath his chin. Sonny's eyes darken as his head cocks ever so slightly to the side. "Unless you don't love me...?"

"It's fine. I don't need your protection. No one was following me, I'll be fine, okay?!" You glance at the exit for a split second then quickly refocus your gaze onto Sonny. "You said you love me, right? So give me some space. Like, just a day of space. Away from home! And… And I'll be back, okay?"

"Oh darling, you know that it's dangerous out here! I'm one of the top officers, aren't I? And that means there's lots of scary evil people chasing after me." He leans closer to you, breath practically tickling the shell of your ear. "And that means that they're coming after you."

"It's fine!" Immediately, you shove him back with as much force as possible. You slide out from his space in the process, sidestepping your way out into the open space of the alleyway as subtle as possible. "I can just, call for a cab and stay at a friend's place until then. Yeah! I'll be fine! I'll be safe with a friend! Listen, I just -- I just need some space for myself. Okay?"

"A friend? You're not talking about Alban, are you?"

Shit.

Upon seeing your face, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Sonny laughs once more, soon taking off his hat to brush back his hair. With the cap in his hand, he takes a few steps towards you as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"Oh? You didn't know? He left."

You freeze.

"Alban's been trying to get a hold of you for such a long time, but you never replied. So he thought you didn't want to talk to him anymore and naturally... He left."

"What? I've -- I've never heard about this! He stopped texting me after we..."

Again, he tilts his head. "After we...?"

"After we... moved... in..."

Realization shot through your mind. This never happened before. You and Alban are so close to each other, he should’ve noticed that something was up when you haven’t seen each other in so long! God, you should’ve noticed it too when you suddenly stopped receiving calls or messages from him. Everything that you had with him for so long just… stopped. This never happened before!

"What --" your foot stomps towards him, "what happened to him? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"

Surprised by your outburst, he shoots up his hands against his chest. Waving them frantically in front of him, he responds, "Woah woah, calm down! I didn't do anything! He just left on his own, that's it. And the same applies for everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Your family? The rest of your friends? They all left! You should've seen what they were saying about you. About us."

He puts back on his hat, readjusting it to cover his head nicely. Once his hat was back on, he looked back at you with pity as he further explained, "They gossiped about how you’d leave me alone for days or weeks on end without telling me where you’d go. They would even talk about how heartless you are when you talked about leaving me! They didn't want to support you, nor did they want to support me. So they took the easy way out, by leaving you."

The man approaches you once more, his eyes never leaving your face as you do nothing but stare at him in shock. "They were conspiring against us, telling all of my enemies of my whereabouts and what you were doing to me!"

He starts to trail around you, circling you with a piercing stare that practically holds you in place. "You were so cruel to me! So... heartless."

Shoving his hands into his blue jacket’s pockets, he shakes his head in disapproval and clicks his tongue. "Word spread so fast that everyone thought that, hey, maybe it's safer if we just leave you. They don't need you. They don't even want you. All they want to do is cut you off and go about their lives! And now you want to go back to them after they left you? After you’ve hurt me?”

Disbelief and despair washes over you. Your head spirals deeper and deeper as your thoughts were plagued with these ideas. Why would they leave you? You didn’t do anything bad to them! This wasn’t your fault, it was his! It’s his fault that everything is like this! Or… was it really…?

You chose to date him. You chose to be with him. You even chose to stick with him through everything thin or thick because you loved him.

Loved…

Did you really love him?

“Sonny, I --” your voice breaks, tears start to brim at your eyes. You try to force yourself to speak about why you want to leave him. About why you’re sorry.

He notices your tone breaking as you can’t help but wipe at the tears threatening to fall down your face. Hurriedly, he closes the gap between you and immediately pulls you closer into his arms. "Shh... It's okay, it's okay… I forgive you. Sonny's here, okay? I’m here. No one can get you now... No one."

You feel his warmth welcoming you into his embrace. You couldn’t help but pull yourself closer into him, pressing your head and your body deeper into his hug.

As he softly rubs his hand against your back, he shifts another towards the back of your head. He gently coaxes you to look at him despite your ruined state. Rather than a look of disgust, you’re welcomed to love and adoration in his eyes and his smile. You close your eyes as his face gets closer, his lips pressing ever so gently against your temple. He tightens his hold around you, humming so peacefully.

"You're safe with me, and I'll always keep you safe. Always."

a/n: god he's so evil 😌

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijien #noctyx #sonny brisko #sonny brisko x reader #noctyx x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #cw yandere #cw emotional abuse #cw manipulation #cw toxic relationship #cw victim blaming #cw stalking #— a simple dream // writing #dark content

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river13245 · 6 months

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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Aaron Hotchner x Male reader who joined the fbi/bau to gather information on what killed his family. Reader knows it wasn't human but he knows no one would believe him feeling alone and that he should have been in their place.

The team know nothing of reader's real drive or his past only that he's x military. They don't even know that the only thing he has is his car that he lives in or lives in hotel rooms out of paranoia.

Maybe on a case it takes a supernatural turn and reader is the only one who is aware of it and know what to do but can't tell anyone cause who would believe him? Maybe reader gets hurt saving Aaron because needs to make sure Aaron get back home to his son

Warnings: Reader being a slight ass, Bad fighting descriptions (first time ill get better within time), Blood, loss of family.

Authors note: this ended up being longer than I originally planned.

-----

It was a quiet day at the Bau, everyone was quiet and doing their own work and there hadn't been an emergence case that had came your guy's way yet. So you were taking the time to really appreciate the quiet for however long it had lasted.

You were all tasked with jobs because even on quiet days you all were busy. Your job was to go through old cases and new ones and so here you were at your desk sorting out case files. Some were old and solved already while others were going to have to be sent to the local police because they were ones they would be able to do.

However there was one file that when you first opened it your heart stopped. As you scanned through it you sat absolutely still and held your breath. As if one single movement would make you break. You wouldn't say that you were an emotional man, when you were younger definitely but things change you. And as you read through this you remember exactly what had changed you all those years ago

-----

You had just gotten back to the state after being away at the army for almost two years and was looking forward to seeing your family. As you sat in the car you thought about what you would see when you got to your home. The same home that you have lived in your whole life.

Your mother would be in the kitchen possibly listening to music as she cleaned up. Your father would be in the living room playing with your younger siblings so they would be out of your mothers way while she cleaned up.

However what you hadn't expected was to open the door to see your family laying in puddles of their own blood. Your mother was laying face down in the kitchen while your dad was right beside her laying on his back. As you looked around you seen your younger siblings in the living room dead as well.

Tears were in your eyes as you knelt down onto the ground. You were in knelt down as you let yourself cry for many minutes until you started to feel completely ill. Rushing to the bathroom you leaned over the toilet. As you flushed you made sure to breathe and try to calm yourself even just a little bit.

When you made your way down to the living room you noticed how the blood was smeared as if your father had tried to get to your mother to protect her from whatever was happening. It broke your heart. Their faces once full of life and laughter was not pale and scarred.

-----

After that day you had made it your life's purpose to find whoever had killed your family and kill that SOB. You had called the cops and they took care of everything and you went back to the military for a few more years.

The army was good for you, you focused on making sure you were strong and skilled in many different ways. Your family was on your mind every step of the way. Even when you joined the BAU, you joined not only to protect other people from harm but also in hopes to cross paths with the same thing that had killed your family. And here it was. In your hands. The scene of the crime was at your childhood home and you knew that the thing would come back. It did when it killed your parents.

Getting up from your desk in a rush caused the team to glance over at you. You paid them no mind as you walked straight to Aarons office. Now normally you would have knocked but instead this time you walked straight in, causing him to look up at you from his own paperwork.

Usually he would say something about someone just barging in like that but as he looked at you his eyes softened as he noticed just how stressed you looked.

He watched as you walked in front of his desk and placed down the case file so he could see it. "this is a case that needs our immediate attention" your voice was authoritive as you spoke to your boss.

Grabbing the casefile he looked at it and nodded "alright ill call everyone down to the briefing room" You nod in response before walking down to the briefing room.

------

After being briefed on the case Penelope had gotten straight to work. Everyone could tell that you had not been your normal self. They may not know much about you besides what's on your file but they have known you long enough to know when you were on edge. No one said anything since they were slightly scared or intimidated by you in some way.

When Penelope said that she has got something you all talk about it and as soon as Hotch says that you guys are taking the cars you are the first to walk out. He gives a quick look to the team before walking after you. You sit into the passenger seat knowing he was following you and when he sits in the drivers side he places his hand on your arm lightly. "you need to tell me what's wrong. Why are you acting like this over a case?"

His voice was authoritive but you knew that he cared about you. and in knowing that, that's what terrified you. "I'm fine boss can we go?" Aaron visibly flinched back at you calling him boss instead of his name.

You guys weren't dating or anything but there had been something there. Something that neither of you seemed to be able to take the leap to pursue.

Aaron starts the car and follows the others to your childhood home. The home that you hadn't been able to step foot on or even drive past because it haunted you.

The car ride was silent, you knew you had been an ass. You hadn't meant to be but you were far to in your own head to apologize right now. You would have to do that at a later time because right now you could barely speak.

When you finally arrive Aaron glances over at you before getting out. You sit for just a few moments before getting out and putting on your mask. It was a figurative mask, just means you pretend to be alright. As you step out Aaron is already handing you your gun and some other things you need. He helps you button up your vest so its secure and tight.

He does this all in silence only squeezing your shoulders before looking over you quickly. Then he turns to the team "alright everyone ready?"

Derek is texting on his phone probably texting Penelope when he says "yeah just one second." At his words something breaks inside of you and you snap at him. "Derek just put the damn phone down. Flirting with your "baby girl" can wait until this is finished."

He pauses and puts his phone away "what the hell is wrong with you y/n you have been on edge ever since you seen this case" he didn't sound super pissed but you shook your head. "Nothing I'm just wanting to get this over with. Even if I have to do it myself."

You turn and begin to walk to the house after muttering a "fucks sake." Walking to the back door you hear Aaron right behind you. He had probably apologized for you to the team before following you but you didn't turn to spare him any glance.

Getting to the door you hear Derek kick down the door and the others are guarding every entrance and exits they can find so no one can escape. You instinctively place your hand on Aarons for just a moment before walking in.

Aaron is right beside you as you walk through the house. You can smell blood, blood that's probably been here for days but what you can hear is the worst of it. Screaming as if the person had been wanting to keep one alive. That wasn't a thing they had done before.

You had special bullets in your gun that would kill anything. No matter what it was so as you made your way to the sound you see them before they see you. Your gun is in the air instantly aiming it at them. But when they turn around all they do is smirk.

"well hello y/n" at the sound of your name coming from the mans lips you stiffen up and Aaron looks at you and then back at the unsub. "how the hell do you know my name?" your voice didn't waver even as the man in front of you chuckled. "oh come on, you didn't think I wouldn't know the man whose family I had killed would you"

You glare at him while he walks closer to you. Aaron walks closer to you to protect you but you shake your head. He looks at you and it seems as if you are having a silent argument in your head and he eventually backs away from you.

The man in front of you looks down at you since he's taller than you are. "you were the one that got away. I cant say that I've ever missed anyone before." Rolling your eyes you stare up at him "well I'm glad I could leave an impression. After all i would hope you remembered me since you're the one that killed my family"

The team visibly straightens up and now its all clicking as to just why you were acting the way you were today. "ouu sorry about that. I actually only was there for your mother but your father had to get in the way. Tried to be the hero, save your mom" He paused smirking "and well i couldnt just let the kids witness that and then have to live with the trauma. So I did them a favor"

Before you could stop yourself your fist hit his jaw. Your gun in the holster, not the smartest decision you had ever made but you weren't thinking rationally when you did it and everyone else knew.

However it was part of your plan because now he was distracted so the team can get the hostage they were holding. Now they were safe and out of the building. Looking over you see JJ helping the young woman out trying to calm her.

As the two of you begin to fight you had been winning until he said something to distract you and then before you knew it he was leaning on top of you "since I've already killed your family I thought id already had taken everything that made you happy. But I've realized someone has become to mean everything to you" He looks at Aaron "we cant have that can we?"

Aaron shoots the man but it doesn't do much to him as he flicks his hand and Aaron is shot back to the wall and he's slowly losing breath. "NO!" You sit up and grab the mans foot making him fall but not before the man uses magic on you and a cut appears along your arm and leg. The cuts are very deep but you manage with shaky hands to grab your gun and you shoot the man and he finally ends up bleeding out.

Your losing consciousness slowly but surely. Aaron rushes over to you while the team is coming over to the man and doing their jobs knowing that Aaron needed time with you.

Looking up at Aaron you cough and place your hand that was on your arm now on his shirt that just happened to be white. "Aaron I'm sorry" He shakes his head and places his hand on your chest while Spencer comes over and is wrapping up your leg while the team calls an ambulance. "don't you dare apologize. You can apologize later."

He places his hand on the back of your head as you close your eyes. "don't you dare close your eyes" you laugh at how even now he was ordering you around, and you wince at how much everything hurts. "I'm just resting my eyes, don't use that tone with me Hotch"

You were trying to act as if everything was fine but as Hotch lifted you up and began to walk you to the ambulance is when you had passed out.

The last thing you remembered was Hotch ordering them to let him ride with you and him placing something soft under head.

------

When you finally woke up you kept your eyes closed but the first thing you noticed was someone running their hand through your hair gently saying "come on baby. wake up please."

The Baby really caught you off guard but a smile makes its way to your face as you open your eyes you see Aaron in front of you. "Aaron?" He looks at you and you're surprised he could even hear you from how hoarse your voice was. "shh don't talk here. Here is some water" he holds it to your lips and you sip on it.

"thank you" you look up at him and grab onto his hand. "Did I hear you right or was I still unconscious did you call me baby?" he squeeze's your hand and nods. "yeah I did. Hope that's okay"

You smile and nod instantly, its probably the most you've smiled and he takes a moment to really appreciate just how amazing you look when you smile. "you are coming home today. They said that when you woke up they would take care of you and you would be free to go"

You nod and look around "can you get the team in here please?" he nods and as he goes and gets them the doctors get you all situated and you sit up with a wince.

Eventually the team walks in and they all begin to fret over you and you roll your eyes and tell them that your fine. However you look over to Derek who is keeping his distance and you feel bad. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. It wasn't your fault" He nods "I know and I should have taken it more seriously"

Nodding Emily speaks "why did you do that? Why did you go out of your way to save Aaron when you knew you would get hurt in the process." You didn't have to think about the answer "because he has a son to get home to. What do I have to go home to? I live in my car or in hotels when i need a night in a bed and to freshen up. No one is depending on me outside of this job"

Aaron speaks from where he was resting against the wall without you noticing. "oh how wrong you are. Do you not know that all of us, including me need you. I need you outside of work, during work. You are the one that I look forward to seeing everyday. Also you aren't going home to your car. You're coming home with me so I can care for you"

Rolling your eyes you shake your head "you don't have to do that Hotch" he shakes his head before giving you a look that leaves no room for argument "Its final...and I thought I had upgraded from Hotch to babe, darling or something" You laugh in response and pull him into a kiss causing the others to be surprised but they smile.

"okay then my love, take me home"

#river13245 #angst #fluff #criminal minds fic #derek morgan #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotch imagine #supernatural

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