#frank would know about bleeding through. he gets it

[raytorotits]

"I bled through my tampon": boring, embarrassing, negative connotations

"I came in my pants, stigmata-style": hip. new. sexy.

#things i come up with covered in blood in the college bathroom stall with anarchotrans graffiti #the pussycule said i should post this. it was NOT going on my main but like. it works for mcr methinks #frank would know about bleeding through. he gets it #tag.txt

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys. 

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving. 

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else. 

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would. 

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true. 

Fuck it. 

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's. 

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is. 

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask. 

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands. 

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.” 

By Friday, you're at your wit's end. 

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes. 

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it. 

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different. 

Careful, that voice inside you says. 

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking. 

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey. 

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table. 

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy. 

 “Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance. 

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask." 

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so." 

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time." 

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?" 

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal. 

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.” 

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze. 

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him. 

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking. 

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?” 

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.” 

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says. 

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.” 

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest. 

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are. 

“And what would that be?” 

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans. 

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass. 

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar. 

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside. 

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere. 

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down. 

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking. 

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too. 

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say. 

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders. 

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands. 

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems. 

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss. 

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.” 

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.” 

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple. 

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going. 

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow. 

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you. 

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?” 

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan. 

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath. 

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest. 

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing. 

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs. 

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each. 

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you. 

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks. 

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look. 

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say. 

“I’m a contractor.” 

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.” 

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say. 

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest. 

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing. 

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask. 

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense. 

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit. 

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number. 

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave. 

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little. 

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it. 

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses. 

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work. 

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed. 

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction

[entitled-fangirl]

Her saving grace.

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: David captured the reader and Ellie. The reader hopes Joel is out there, searching for them. And he is.

Words: 2,458

Warnings: kidnapping, creepy comments, blood, attempted rape, negative uses of God, creepy ass preacher, guns, talk of cannibalism, lots of angst.

Masterlist &lt;3

.........................................................................

The woman eyes opened slowly, not wanting to adjust to the light in the room.

She was in a cell.

Ellie.

She sits up quickly, her eyes scanning the cell for Ellie. She was there, unconscious on the other side of it. The woman crawled to her, resting her hand on Ellie’s forehead, her finger lightly grazing the cut that resided there.

The door to the room opened, revealing David.

She let out a sharp breath. She remembered. David had kidnapped them.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen. No one truly means to get kidnapped. Her thoughts roll back to Joel, who, for all she knows, is still recovering in the basement of the house they used as refuge. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since they were taken, but odds are, he wouldn’t make it long without them.

David squatted next to her, outside of her barred enclosure. He gave a smile. Perhaps to most, this was a comforting smile. A smile that showed he was of no danger. But she knew better. He was beyond dangerous.

She watched him closely, not saying a word. She wouldn’t let him touch Ellie. And by god, she wouldn’t tell him about Joel. The more she kept hidden away, the safer her little family would be.

He let out a soft sigh, noticing her watchful gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you, ya know?”

She said nothing, continuing her stare before it broke away at the sound of Ellie’s breathing. Her eyes scanned the girl quickly before looking back at David.

He continued, “You care for the girl greatly. I can see that. I know she’s not yours, but I can’t help but wonder…. Is she his?”

Her jaw clenched at the mention of Joel. She feigned innocence. “w….who?”

He chuckled at this. “C’mon, you’re smarter than that, Darling.”

She let out a shaky breath. Hearing the word "darling" come from his mouth made her want to puke. That was Joel’s word for her, and she had always relished in the feeling it gave her to hear it come from his lips. But now, hearing it from David, she would rather the word never be muttered by anyone again.

 She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to thoughts of Joel. She longed to see his face again. The crease in his forehead when Ellie said a cringey joke. The way his hands would run through his hair when he was thinking. The soft sighs that escaped his lips when they ran into situations. Above all, she loved his smile. They were so rare. But when one happened to come across his face, she swore it turned the clouds away.

He was probably dead. His body lying in that basement, cold, probably bleeding out. And she could’ve prevented it. But she was stupid enough to let herself and Ellie get caught. And now, Ellie would never be the cure. And Joel was dead. And it was her fault. She feared Joel would never forgive her, even in the afterlife.

She had known him for a while. They had initially met the day Tess brought him to Bill’s. She was Frank’s beloved niece who had traveled with him, and the two had adopted her in an unorthodox method. They were a happy family together until Frank became sick.

And the day Joel came back through with Ellie was her saving grace. He was her saving grace.

She snapped out of her longing gaze with the feeling of David’s hand caressing her jaw. She jumped slightly, and he smiled more. “What is he to you, girl? If you care about him, you’d give him up freely- for both your sake and theirs.”

She considered his words before going on a limb herself, “Doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

His grip on her jaw suddenly tightened, bringing her face close to his, the bars being their only separation. “Watch yourself. Thou shalt not lie.”

What did he mean by that? He knew Joel was alive. How did he know Joel was alive? Something must of happened. 

 A shaky breath comes from her lungs, her eyes beginning to spring with tears. She felt stupid, not even being able to hold her tears in. How Joel stayed so calm in stressful situations, she’d never understand.

David’s grip loosened slightly, smiling down at her. “Tsk, tsk. You care for him, don’t you? Well,” his tone changing, “he’ll be no more soon, and I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces.”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Joel was out there. Somewhere. She just couldn’t read David enough to know if he’d been found or not.

If he hadn’t been found yet, and is currently on the loose, David would need more than a prayer to save him from the older man’s wrath.

There was no use hiding it now, “Where is he, David?”

David’s face lit up at the fact that she really didn’t know anything. He could say anything in the world and she’d have to take it for fact. “Well, Darling, he is going to be dealt with. Publicly. The people need to know killing one another is against God’s law.”

Her eyebrows creased, “So, you’ll kill him?”

He nods. “It’s what God wants.”

The silence engulfs them for a while before he stands up, “I’ll be back later with dinner. Hopefully she’ll be awake,” he mutters, his gaze going to Ellie. 

She says nothing, continuing her stare at the floor in thought. 

He stood for a few moments, simply admiring her. For someone so lost, she was so pretty. As if God had answered all of his prayers together.

He left without another word.

….

She had fallen asleep at some point, waking up to the sound of a yelp.

Ellie stood at the doors of the cell, an angry look on her face.

David slowly sank down in pain.

The woman sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to understand what was happening. Whatever was happening in front of her was not friendly fire.

David grabbed Ellie’s head knocking it against the bars.

She stood quickly, grabbing Ellie and pulling her to her chest, cradling her head. They both stared at David with a look that would kill.

He cradled his hand, panting. “You little cunt.”

She let out a deep breath, unsure of what to do about the conflict. She felt Ellie reach her hand up to her own face, her finger pulling back blood.

“Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

And with that, David turned to leave.

“…Ellie…”

He turned back around. “What?”

“Tell them that Ellie is the little girl who broke your FUCKING. FINGER!”

His gaze turned to stone. “How did you put it?” He asked. “...tiny little pieces?” And he left.

Ellie began to weep in her hold. The woman shushed her calmly and let her cry until she fell asleep again.

She didn’t need to know all the pieces of the puzzle, but just what she saw of their interaction told her far too much. 

She prayed Joel was someone out there.

And by god, he was.

….

David and Troy entered the room, the woman’s head perking up at the sound. Ellie’s head rested in her lap, the woman’s fingers running through the poor girl’s hair as she slept.

As odd as it sounded for their situation, it was quite comforting. She had never considered being a mother. Especially not now. But, with Ellie, she started to understand and appreciate Bill and Frank’s sacrifices for her all the more.

David unlocked the door of the cell, and both men entered. She pulled Ellie into her arms to protect her, as if the poor woman would be able to do so. 

“What… what are you…,” her voice soft and scared, “what are you doing?”

Ellie began to awaken at this, quickly realizing the situation. She stood. Troy quickly grabbed her waist to keep her from running. A scream broke out from the girl’s lungs as she tried to fight him.

The woman was not too far behind her. David’s hand reached out, grabbing her wrist. The one fault she had always hated of herself: she was all flight. Never fight. She envied Joel and Ellie for that often.

David quickly overpowered the woman, dragging her off to the sound of Ellie’s screams.

He pulled her into another room, this one slightly cleaner than the other, but not much. His arm was still around the woman’s waist, his other hand grabbing her wrist to keep her from what small muster of fight she did have left in her. His chest was a firm plank keeping her back against him.

She began to still, realizing that she could do nothing to stop the preacher from ruining her one chance at a happy ending.

She could scare him though.

Her voice was low. Scarily so. 

“If he finds you, he’ll be merciless.”

He felt him smile against her neck, an unwelcoming feeling. “I’ll just have to keep him from finding you.”

Her blood ran cold. Her body became stiff, truly unsure of what to do. Perhaps they were both bluffing, and Joel was dead. 

Or maybe he was out there, hunting for David like a shark that smelled blood for the first time.

A kiss to her neck brought her from her thoughts again. David began kissing up to neck to her jaw. She did nothing but breathe in a shaky pattern.

She was letting this happen. 

Her mind was screaming. Screaming, not to let him touch her. To not touch Ellie. To not touch Joel. 

But instead she stood there, emotionless.

He pulled her body to the ground with his, the horrid kissing of her neck continuing.

The one thing she did do, was cry. Hot tears flooded her eyes and she began to sob.

She remembered the first time Joel had seen her cry.

Frank was becoming too ill to do things on his own. It scared her. One of the visits from Joel resulted in her breaking down in front of him, telling him her every fear of what would happen to her beloved uncle.

And she remembers the feeling of Joel’s arms around her, comforting her. His scruff tickling her ear as he whispered calming words to her.

And he hadn’t seen her cry since.

But here she was, on the ground in tears. David’s body hovered over hers and she did nothing but accept it for fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

His hand ran down her stomach, towards the top of her pants. He began to unbutton her jeans, sliding the zipper down with ease. David noticed her tears, and he smiled. He leaned his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t worry, Darling. I’ll make it all go away.”

A new voice echoed through the room.

“No, you fucking won’t.”

A shot fired.

Blood covered her face.

David’s body fell against hers, lifeless.

Joel stood in the doorway of the room, his shotgun held out, the barrel still smoking. Ellie stood behind him, her face had a few more cuts than before, but her eyes held a look of relief.

He threw the gun to Ellie quickly before moving towards the two bodies on the ground. He grabbed David’s body, practically throwing it to the side as if it weighed nothing. Like you would throw a trash bag into a dumpster.

He now focused on the body that was under it. Hers.

She laid there, her hands covering her face and she weeped harder than she ever had before. And it broke his spirit.

He kneeled down to her. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew injuries came first. His eyes scanned her, but he couldn’t tell if any of the blood on her was actually hers. He’d just have to ask.

“Darlin'?” His voice called softly.

She continued to weep, one hand covering her mouth, the other moving up towards her forehead to her hairline. He knew it was irrational to ask her these questions, but his brain had gone into overdrive. 

He needed to know she was okay.

“Hey,” he called again, his tone slightly harsher to get her attention, “Darlin’?”

He hated watching as her tears mixed with the blood staining her perfect face.

If he could revive the man, he would- just to torture him slowly until he begged for forgiveness. But he wouldn’t make him beg Joel for forgiveness. No. He would make the preacher beg her for forgiveness. Because Joel would never give it to him.

Joel sighed, his patience running thin, wanting to be away from the town before anyone noticed. He grabbed her waist with one hand, trying to anchor her. “Hey,” he said with a stern tone.

He had never seen a reaction like this from her before. Her voice broken and begging, “Please…don’t… I… please… stop… stop…”

Joel froze. As if his hatred for the dead man could grow anymore. She didn’t recognize Joel’s touch. Her only thought was on survival. And his heart began to beat faster knowing this was all she could do as her method to survive. Beg.

He retracted his hand quickly, going for a different approach. His hand reached up to cradle her back of her head like it did that day at Bill’s. He pulled her head up, meeting it to his forehead.

“Shh… things are going to be alright… I gotchu, Darlin’.”

He tried to remember what he said that day to her. Until he remembered.

“...I gotcha. And I won’t let you go… I won’t let you go.”

They sat there a while, letting her finish her tears. Her breathing stilled, and she began to come to. “J…Joel?”

He pulled back, opening his eyes to meet hers. “Hi, Darlin’.”

Her arms move around his neck in instinct, her head pushed into the crease between his neck and shoulder. One arm of his circled her waist, the other moving to the back of her head, caressing her.

She pulled back in realization. “You killed him.”

He nods.

Her head disappears against his chest again, her voice muffled, “Thank you.”

He let out a light chuckle. He moved his voice down to her ear. “Maybe it’s what God wanted,” he said, using the preacher’s words against him.

She laughed against his strong chest.

Ellie moved from the doorway. “We need to go.”

Joel nods. “Think you can walk for me, Darlin’?”

She lets out a breath, nodding.

He helps her stand, his arm circling her waist to support her. 

As they trekked through the snow, her body practically swallowed by his warm coat, he leaned down to whisper to her again.

“I gotcha. And I won’t let you go.”

.........................................................................

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller tlou

[iamumbra195]

Random One Piece incorrect quotes cause I'm bored

Some of these are modern au though

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

*Sanji's not there*

Usopp: HELP! I TOLD LUFFY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Zoro, pouring alcohol directly into a cereal bowl:

Zoro: And you thought I could help?

...

Luffy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Nami : Wasn't Zoro with you?

Zoro: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised

...

Law: I trust Mugiwara-ya.

Penguin: You think he knows what he's doing?

Law: I wouldn't go that far.

...

Sabo: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Ace, confused: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Sabo: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Luffy: edible

...

Nami: We need to get through this locked door. Usopp, give me your credit card.

Usopp: Here.

Nami, pocketing it: Thanks. Luffy, kick down the door.

...

Chopper: You know those things will kill you, right?

Zoro, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Sanji, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Luffy: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

...

Robin: Why is Luffy so sad?

Nami: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Robin: And...?

Nami: He got Buggy

*Zoro cackling in the background

...

Zoro: Self care is actually getting into fights with randos in dark alleys.

Nami: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Kin'emon, trying to be poetic: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!

Usopp: Lmao self care is taking Luffy's birthday meat cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Luffy: If you touch my meat cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Sanji, losing his mind: WHY IS THERE FROSTING ON MEAT?

...

Franky, about Jinbe: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Robin: Are we stealing them?

Brook: New or used?

Franky, cackling: Wonderful responses, both of you.

...

Smoker: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Sanji: Shit.

Usopp: Wait, three?

Smoker: Yeah?

Nami: OH MY GOD ZORO FELL OFF!!!

...

Kin'emon: Tonight, one of you has betrayed us.

Ashura: Is it me?

Kin'emon: No, it’s not you.

Denjiro: Is it me, Kin?

Kin'emon: It’s not you either.

Kanjuro: Is it me, Kin'emon?

Kin'emon, bleeding from several debilitating injuries:

Kin'emon, mockingly: Is IT mE kiN'eMOn?

...

Usopp: Can I be frank with you guys?

Luffy, confused: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Chopper: Can I still be Chopper?

Franky, snickering: Shh, let Frank speak.

...

Sabo: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Koala: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Sabo: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ROBIN-CHAN WITH ME

Hack, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Law, walking into his submarine: Hello, people who do not belong here.

Zoro: Hey.

Sanji: Hi.

Robin: Hello.

Chopper: Hey!

Law: I gave you my vivre card for emergencies only!

Luffy, grinning: We were out of meat.

...

Sanji: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Luffy, drinking meat: Why do you say that?

...

Zoro: Do you take constructive criticism?

Nami: I only take cash or credit.

...

Koala: Why are you on the floor?

Sabo: I'm depressed.

Sabo: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ivankov, please.

...

Robin: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

*everyone looks ay Karasu

Karasu: What? How am I supposed to know?

Lindbergh: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Karasu: *sighs*

Karasu: You wouldn't be trapped

...

Vivi: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Nami: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Vivi: Yes!

Usopp: ... I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

...

Usopp: WHY. why did you give Luffy a KNIFE?!

Zoro, shrugging: He said he felt unsafe.

Usopp: Now I feel unsafe!

Zoro: ... would you like a knife?

...

Dragon: What did you do with the target's body?

Sabo : What didn’t I do with the body?

Dragon:

Sabo: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the corpse respectfully.

...

Luffy, texting Ace: Ace! Help I’m being kidnapped

Ace: Where are you?

Luffy: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.

Ace: I’ll call Gramps.

Garp, answering their cell: Y’ello?

Ace: Where’s Luffy? He texted me that he was being kidnapped.

Garp: Luffy? Whaddya mean, he's right next to me-

Garp, who shaved his head:

Garp: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*

Garp: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!

Luffy: WHO ARE YOU?!

...

*Ace, Sabo and Luffy sitting in jail together*

Sabo: So who should we call?

Ace: I’d call Gramps, but I feel safer in jail

...

Roger: Garp, my old arch enemy.

Garp: ... I thought I was your only arch enemy?

Roger: I have a life outside of you, Garp

...

Zoro: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Luffy: The cow???

Zoro: What?

Sanji: *disgusted shudder* LUFFY, W H Y?

...

Usopp: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 billion berry?

Zoro: Nami can stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house and erase my debt

Luffy: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 billion.

Zoro: Good thinking.

...

Kin'emon: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Denjiro: You were flirting with O'Tsuru.

Kin'emon: So what? She's my wife.

Denjiro: You asked her if she were single.

Kin'emon:

Denjiro: And then you cried when she said she wasn't

...

Marco: What time is it?

Ace: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Ace: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Izou: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Ace, proudly: It’s 2 am

...

Luffy: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place.

Law: You people already know too much about me.

Kidd: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.

...

Sabo, an enabler: Tell Ace about the birds and the bees.

Luffy: They're disappearing at an alarming rate.

...

Brook: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

...

Zoro: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

...

Law: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven’t decided yet' is typically a good response.

Bepo: Captain, no.

...

Law: Nothing in life is free.

Chopper: Love is free!

Luffy: Adventure is free!

Robin: Knowledge is free.

Nami: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

...

Usopp: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Luffy will and will not eat.

Franky: Grass? Yes!

Usopp: Moss? Yes!!

Franky: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Usopp: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Franky: Worms? Sometimes!

Usopp: Rocks? Usually nah.

Franky: Twigs? Usually!

Usopp: Zoro's cooking? Inconclusive!

Chopper: How did you… test this?

Usopp: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.

Chopper: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Nami: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SHOELACES WENT?

Robin: What about humans? He tried to eat Crocodile once

Everyone: ...

Usopp: I think I might be too afraid to ask

(Someone pls draw this one XD)

...

Betty: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Koala: *turning to Sabo* How tall are you?

...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's it, this took forever to write lol

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #portgas d ace #koala #roronoa zoro #nami #black leg sanji #usopp #nico robin #franky #brook one piece #tony tony chopper #jinbe #trafalgar law #one piece incorrect quotes #asl brothers #strawhat pirates #heart pirates #revolutionary army #whitebeard pirates #akazaya nine #there's like a hundred others but I'm too lazy to tag them

[amhrosina]

frank with reader who’s really touchy and loves to touch frank and after a bad mission he snaps at her and she knows it’s because of what happened that night not her but she still feels really bad and distances herself

A/N: hey bestie i got this ask and felt so inspired that i wrote 90% of it in my free time at work today. fastest turn around time ever??? don't get used to it lol i hope you enjoy!!

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Frank knew he had fucked up the second the words left his mouth. He watched the words hit you, watched you process the rage induced slip-up that had forced its way out of his mouth – the way you recoiled your hand from his skin and stumbled over yourself to move away from him. It made him sick. Guilt coiled in his stomach, and before he could apologize, or say anything at all, you turned and left the room, mumbling an apology under your breath.  

Frank couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. He’d never snapped at you before tonight and was almost as shocked as you were when the words tumbled out of his mouth.  

“Stop fucking touching me. I said I’m fucking fine.”

Regret gnawed at his stomach, and if he wasn’t bleeding so hard out of the wound on his arm, he would’ve followed you out of the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and begged your forgiveness. But blood was hard to get out of carpet, and he didn’t want you upset about two things tonight. 

So he stitched himself up, and wondered where you were in the apartment, and hoped to God you weren’t somewhere crying. The tears, your tears, he realized, were his least favorite thing in the world, especially if he was the cause of them. He’d rip any fucker who made you cry in half, a promise he’d made good on multiple times, but he hadn’t accounted for the tears he, himself would cause. The guilt overwhelming his senses were doing the job for him anyways – the longer he waited to confront you, the more he felt like an absolute asshole.  

He tested the durability of the dressing on the wound, winding his arm around until he winced. A sharp pain clanged through the left side of his body, and though it made him grimace, he sat with the pain for a moment – let it ground him so that the stress of the evening could leave him. Pain usually sharpened his senses and made him feel more at home in his body. Tonight, it only unsettled him more. 

He wondered if he screwed it up with you for good. You’d worked through a lot of things with Frank, but never this, and the idea of you leaving before he could even try to make things right targeted the urgency in him. He stalked to the door and began his search. 

-  

The hard brick dug into your back as you sat down, and for the third time in half a minute, you questioned your decision to clamber out the window and climb to the roof. You didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but the idea of pacing around the apartment listening to Frank grunt his way through stitches made it hard to breathe, so you did the next best thing – aka the roof.  

You didn’t even need time to think the encounter with Frank over. You knew why he’d said it and what he’d been through tonight, but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest from blooming. It also didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. You had tried to blink them away, but the more you tried to ignore them, the more your vision blurred. 

You’d always been a touchy person, though it had never been quite as present as it was when you were near Frank. When you first met him, you’d been so drawn to his charming aura that you hadn’t realized you’d been shaking his hand for at least 45 seconds. He hadn’t said anything – just kept watching you watch him with a soft smile on his face.  

And the rest was history. You spent the entire first weekend after you met wrapped in each other’s arms, fucking on every available surface in your apartment. You didn’t quite understand why you felt the desire to be constantly touching him, but he didn’t complain and allowed you to give in to your desires as often as you wanted to. You had mentioned to him early on in your relationship that he could tell you to stop if he needed his space, but he’d never asked you to stop.  

Until tonight. 

And you respected it. You did what he asked. You “stopped fucking touching” him as soon as the words had left his mouth, and maybe it hurt your feelings, but you weren’t going to push that on him. If he wanted you to stop touching him, you would, even if it carved a deep, cavernous hole in your heart.  

“Sweetheart?” 

Your heart seized, and you jumped at Frank’s sudden appearance.  

“Hey.” You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “How’d you find me?” 

“I worry about you too much not to be able to find you.” You quirked an eyebrow at him, unable to resist looking at him any longer, and he shrugged. “You left the window to the fire escape open. Can I sit?”  

You shuffled to the side, allowing him the space to sit down, though you were careful not to let your skin brush against his. Frank let out a choked scoff and pressed his leg against yours. You turned to him, brows furrowed. 

“I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”  

And yeah, maybe you threw the words in his face to make him feel a little worse, but he was cracking jokes after snapping at you, and you couldn’t help the bite in your tone - didn’t want to help the bite in your tone. 

He shook his head, expression turning grave.  

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”  

“You said it, though.” 

“I know.” He nodded. “I know.”  

You watched him take in your features – the swollen cheeks from the few tears that slipped earlier, the wildness of your hair after one too many run-throughs with your fingers, the way you could barely look at him before turning away again. 

“I was just trying to help you.” Your eyes crinkled at the thought of him snapping at you again.  

He nodded, cradling your face in his palms. 

“I’m an asshole, baby.” His voice cracked, “I never want you to stop touching me. I love it – I love you – and I’m sorry.” 

You gaped up at him, at the desperate expression on his face. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure what to say. 

“Don’t cry, baby.” He shook his head, wiping your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs, “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

You sniffled, nodding. He’d groveled enough, and you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to stay upset with him for longer than 10 minutes.

“Did you tie the stitch off correctly?” you asked, nodding to the injury that was now covered with gauze. 

“Of course.” Frank nodded. You narrowed your eyes at his nonchalant tone. 

“Are you sure?”  

“No.” He huffed a laugh and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.  

“Why not?” You giggled, swatting him away. 

“Because if this didn’t work, I was going to complain about my awful stitches later and hope my muscles would entice you to forgive me.”  

He smirked, and laughter bubbled out of you from deep in your chest. You climbed to your feet, holding your hands out toward him. 

“Okay, Mr. Muscles, let me fix it before it really does get uncomfortable.” 

He rose to his feet, using the leverage from your hold on his hands to pull you against his chest.  

“I’m sorry,” he paused, “again.”  

“I know, Frankie.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“I love you.” he added, smiling. 

“Shut up and kiss me, muscles.”  

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt

#frank castle #frank castle angst #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fluff #the punisher angst #jon bernthal #marvel #marvel imagine #the punisher imagine #frank castle oneshot #the punisher x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel angst #marvel fluff #requested #amhrosina

[pjoxreader]

PJO Boys Helping With Reader's Period

Leo Valdez

-This man is a mechanical genius, he would make you anything and everything. Just say the word.

-So when he sees you hesitating about asking him for something he pokes and prods until you cave in, asking him to make you a heating pad.

-It takes a few seconds for the gears in his brain to turn before he gets it. “Ohhh! Yeah! Yeah! That’s no problem, I’m sure I can cook something up! Just give me a night!”

-There’s no way he wouldn’t drop everything if he knew your comfort was on the line. 

-He’d go around and ask the other girls in camp about the sort of things that helped them with cramps. 

-Sure enough the next morning he’d bring you a horribly wrapped gift with a sleepy grin, offering you the heating pad he made. It not only had different heat levels and wrapped around your entire body to help with lower back cramps, it also had multiple massaging functions.

-Please take a nap with him, after all that work he’d want nothing more. 

Frank Zhang

-He tries so hard to be helpful. He really tries. It isn’t his fault that all the women in his family were very strong and independent. 

-You once asked him to get you some pads. He ended up coming back with six different boxes and some tampons just in case.

-”...Frank…” you complain as he sets the all down on your bed, you could see his hesitance as he tries to figure out what he did wrong.

-”Did… Did I not get enough?” You can’t stay mad at him since he looked like a worried puppy. 

-He ends up working on some basic tasks instead like getting your craving for you. That? That he can do.

-He’ll bring you anything from Hot coco, to your favorite chocolate or sweet. And if it’s very specific he’ll go to Nico to ask if he could shadow travel for it. 

-He also keeps a little stash of some of your favorite snacks, just in case he isn’t able to get what you’re craving in time.

Percy Jackson

-Sally Jackson raised this man right. SHE RAISED HIM RIGHT.

-He carries around both tampons and pads, no questions asked for anyone who needs it.  Not only is he naturally charming, he's genuinely a sweet guy.

-You accidently bleed through onto his bed? No worries he can just wash it. It isn’t the first time he’s had to get blood out of something.

-He’ll give you massages to help with your cramps. It doesn’t matter how long it takes as long as it helps you feel better.

-He claims it’s a good workout so he doesn’t mind doing it. 

-Don’t expect to get anything yourself during your period. You need food? He’s on his way. Water? Already got it. 

-When it’s time to sleep he’ll hold you close and gently rub circles into your hip and side, whispering loving words of affirmation. He knows your emotions could get a bit wild during this time of the month. He’s the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Jason Grace

-He’s clueless. He was raised by wolves after all and the time he was with his family he was too young to be informed about… That.

-At least the look of utter horror on his face is amusing. He looks down there as if you’d start spurting blood, face utterly pale.

-”But… Won’t you like… Bleed out or something?” he asks in utter concern.

-You have to try so hard to not laugh at him. Please set him down and borrow one of the Apollo kids books on the subject.

-He will 100% be staring in utter horror as if you’re explaining to him how to commit murder but he’s at least listening.

-He has a new respect for women now and to be honest he’ll be a bit scared of them for a while.

-He’ll go to the other girls of Argo ll to make sure that you weren’t just messing with him.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

#pjo x reader #pjo x reader fluff #pjo #hoo #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #jason grace x reader #fluff #pjo fluff

[planete777]

NO ROLE MODELZ・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. lando can't help but be addicted to y/n, high and all.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high, suggestive-ish, just high hotness

NOTE. a small something that i needed to write about lando. will i ever write anything else? who knows. let me know what you think <3

edit: i highly appreciate all ur kind words, however this is a secondary blog so i cannot reply to comments, but rest assured, i love reading them <3

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

lando feels like he's in hell. blinks once, then twice, as if the lids of his eyes would wash away the red haze that weighs upon his sight with inclemency. it remains, however, like a vision straight from an inferno, although the heat that licks at his skin burns from the inside out, shredding inches of cooperation with it, and he curses sober him for leaving his leds on a permanent ferrari hue. the open window, a leeway for cooler air, deems fruitless upon his body, probably as red as the lights that succumb him to complete disorder.

his limbs feel disassociated, flowing without a sense of control, yet it excites him vehemently. the feeling of nothing but complete euphoria meandering and intoxicating him feels so fucking good, and he doesn't want it to end.

no pressure, flying without wings, he loves it so much that he's almost addicted. finds it ironic that the fear of being so inexplicably hooked unto something dwindles away when he realises that the bad feels, really, like the opposite.

movement comes from beside him, then a few seconds later, the biting smell of smoke crawls into his nose, and if he had any prior disdain towards it, he doesn't show as his body melts with a sigh. his fingers tremble as his arm raises, and the girl beside him slots the cig between his fingers.

"you're a fucking goner, aren't you?" her words are slurred, not as much lando thinks his would be, but she still sounds confident. his lips curl upwards and he hums, turning his head to meet her too-perfect side profile, tracing every peak and dip with his eyes.

"feel like i'm fucking ascending."

"good," she assures, then as the song bleeding through his bluetooth speaker slides into another, he watches as her eyes shut and her lips smile.

he wonders how someone infiltrated with obscenity, sin, can look so beautiful drenched in red. it pulls him in, makes his heart twist like never before, and his whole being knows he needs her. she equates to freedom, to a life that stings with too much addictive liberation that lando would cry if she were to disappear.

his eyes never leave her. not when her lips move to sing the lyrics of j cole, neither when her fingers, smooth and warm, tangles in his, moving it towards her mouth before taking a drag. the view before lando is so fucking hot, his heart collapses in his chest and the bliss that wires his brain squeezes it tighter.

then he feels her body move on top of his, striking every nerve ending in his flesh and his eyes open as fast as they can in his inebriated state. she's just as high as he is, eyes red (to be frank, he can't tell whether it's from the lights or not) and nearly shut, but she grins as her hips rests on his and god, does lando's mind short circuit. there's so much friction and heat that he can't move, and he just half-liddedly stares at her as she takes another drag.

"feels good, doesn't it?" she asks, all loopy and hot. he wants to cry.

"so fucking good." his mouth moves on its own accord.

she smiles, and she's singing again.

'don't save her, she don't wanna be saved.'

then her hand moves the cig to his lips and he sucks in as much smoke as he can. it burns his throat, like an open fire tickling his insides, and he needs to cough, but doesn't, going to blow it out. as he does so, she leans forward, warm, soft lips open around his own and takes it right into her mouth.

lando feels everything and nothing. feels the way his hands come up to her waist and squeeze the flesh there with much familiarity, but it's also as if there's nothing there as his movements are so weak, he might as well have no hands at all. he's scorching all over, and it feels so good, so so good, that he can do nothing but close his eyes and let her continue to suck his soul out of his chest.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris romance #lando norris fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #f1 romance #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Not A Date

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You get stood up on a date and Frank decides that's unacceptable and you deserve to be taken out tonight. Except it's absolutely not a date, he swears, despite the fact it has all the makings of a perfect first date.

Warnings: Just all the fluffy goodness of friends to lovers. Some swearing because this is Frank we're talking about. Mild alcohol use. Author's questionable understanding of billiard rules.

AN: My first time writing Mr. Castle. I have a headcanon that Bucky goes to Curtis' veteran group therapy and I think he and Frank would be friends from that so both of those guys make an appearance. Feedback is always appreciated!

WC: 2151

The three flights of stairs up to your apartment leave you feeling winded even on a good day, but the complimentary glass of wine the waitress provided after feeling sorry for you buzzes through your system and couples with the twinge of disappointment, making the trek up to your home a feat akin to climbing Everest.

You fumble with your keys, but the knob on your front door gives way, no longer locked as you left it an hour before.

“If you’re gonna break and enter, at least lock it behind you,” you shout out, closing the front door behind you.

“Not breaking and entering if you give me a key,” a gruff voice answers back as you hang your now discarded jacket on an overcrowded hook in your entryway.

“A decision which I deeply regret,” you reply, entering the living room to find a familiar large man sprawled out on the sofa.

“Better than me breaking your window locks again …” his response cuts off as you enter the room, giving you a glance up and down. His brow furrows at the sight of you, more overdressed than usual, in front of him.

“What are you all dressed up for?” he asks

“I had a date. And it could have been a disaster if it had gone well and I brought him up here only to find my very intimidating and more-than-occasionally bleeding friend on my couch.” You gesture, taking note of the lack of open wounds on Frank’s body.

Finding Frank in your apartment was not an unusual occurrence, though it was always a surprise which state of distress he’d be in - whether he was dropping in for a friendly visit, or bleeding so profusely you weren’t sure the whole of the Red Cross’ supply could replenish him. Thank god, you didn’t also have to deal with stitching him up tonight.

“Okay. Clearly didn’t go well since you’re alone and it’s only 8:30,” he responds, checking his watch.

“Yeah well, he stood me up so…”

“You’re shitting me.” Frank's lips purse and his signature vacant stare glazes across his eyes.

“Nope,” you sigh, flopping down beside him. Your relationship with him so comfortable that you don’t even register the change in his expression, let alone fear it. You nudge your knee against his, attempting to reclaim some personal space from his massive frame currently dominating your tiny New York apartment. Frank does not yield, too focused on the tale of your love-life’s misfortunes.

“What a shithead. What’s his name?”

“Frank, no.” you say sternly.

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Yeah sure, talk to him.” you give air quotes, “Talk to him with your favorite shotgun.”

“Pfft don’t need a gun to let him know what I think. Fists’ll do just fine.”

“Well if the Punisher is suddenly going after scumbags who stand up women on dates instead of your usual criminals, I’m happy to provide a whole list.” you say dryly

Frank swallows thickly, fingers mindlessly plucking at his jeans as fury begins to grow inside him.

“Really? There’s more than one idiot standin’ someone like you up?” he gestures to how well you’ve cleaned up for the evening, letting his gaze linger on the way your outfit clings to your body.

“Apparently a very good majority of men in this city,” you respond with a shrug, trying not to notice the way his intense stare follows you to the kitchen as you stand again. Your fridge is embarrassingly empty and you mentally curse yourself for not doing any food shopping this week as a small gurgle rises in your stomach.

Frank cracks his knuckles and shakes his head and you swear you hear something similar to “assholes” mumbled under his breath.

“You hungry?” you ask “Cause I didn’t eat anything at the restaurant while I waited for that jerk, and now I’m starving. I’m gonna order something if you want?”

“Nah. Don’t order in tonight.” he replies, planting his weighty boots on the area rug and pushing against his thick thighs to stand.

“Frank, I’m starving, why not?”

“Cause we’re going out. You got all dressed up and I’m not gonna let some fucker ruin your night.” he explains, a mischievous spark dancing in his dark eyes.

“I am not letting you take me on a pity date, Frank.” you argue, cringing at the thought

“Not a date. But you’re hungry, I’m hungry. So let’s go somewhere.”

“Fine. Where are we going?” you resign, knowing there is no arguing with him once his mind is made up.

____________________________________

The small windows of the bar are caked in a layer of dust that matches the brown shade of the sticky wood floor Frank leads you across. The chatter from the handful of the evening’s patrons is punctuated by the occasional glass shattering from a barback tossing an empty beer bottle in the trash and the whack of cue poles hitting pool balls in the corner, where you and Frank are currently locked in a heat battle with two of Frank’s “fellow FUBAR veteran group” friends (as he lovingly introduced them.)

Deviating from a normal situation with you two, no one gives a second glance at Frank, worn jacket slung across his large frame and mud-crusted boots not even garnering a raised eyebrow from the several patrons seated at the bar top, all of whom in some way resemble the cast you’d see in b-grade cop show. Your chosen ensemble for your defunct date stands out among the casual crowd, prompting a few glances every once in a while from a passing handsome stranger. Frank does not hesitate to display a particularly harsh scowl, causing them to scuttle away in regret for even looking at you.

Frank’s calloused hands sneak a french fry off your half-eaten plate as you rosin up the cue pole, racking your brain for how you’re going to proceed strategically.

“Kay sweetheart, Curt and Barnes are up a point, so all you need to do is sink the 13 or the 9 and we can beat em’.”

“Angle’s too tight on the 13,” you respond “I think I can make the 9, but I’m not loving how close the 8 ball is.”

“You can do it, we just gotta get you lined up right. Here…” Frank ambles over to you, carefully bracketing his arms around you and guiding your hands into position. His broad chest barely sweeps against your back as he leans over you, sending an icy shudder down your spine. Usually so steady and precise, you swear you see his hands tremble for a moment as they rest on top of yours, lining up your shot with his military-trained eye for accuracy.

His breath is hot on your neck as he mumbles “All you” into your ear and takes a step back, the nearness of his body to yours stringing tension in thick spider-webbed threads between you.

“Kay, 9 ball. Right corner pocket,” you announce, throat suddenly feeling dry. You take a deep breath, over compensating for your current shortness on air, before pulling your elbow back and releasing.

A sharp crack rings out as the cue makes direct contact with its mark. The 9 ball wizzes across the green velvet, narrowly avoiding the 8, before sinking cleanly into the intended target. You jump up with a “whoop!” as Frank wraps his strong arms around you in celebration.

“Atta girl!” he cheers and you’re buzzing, though whether it’s the joy of victory or the way Frank is currently enveloping you and your senses, you can’t say.

Bucky and Curtis groan in frustration. As Bucky steps up to rerack the game, Curtis speaks up.

“You know you surprised me. The way Frank’s always describing you, had me thinking you’d be more demure and shy. You’re really more than he gives you credit for.”

“You talk about me at group?” you whip around to Frank, who stepped toward the back wall to take a swig of his beer.

“Mighta mentioned you in passing.” he shrugs, fiddling with the label of the bottle.

“Can’t get him to shut up about you.” Curtis replies

“C’mon Curt!” Frank rolls his eyes

“What else does he say about me?” you turn back to Curtis and a broad grin spreads across his face.

“Reracked and ready for round 2.” Bucky announces

“Barnes has an unfair advantage with that roboarm.” Frank complains, hoping to deviate the current subject away.

“I think Curtis and I are at a disadvantage going up against two of the best sharpshooters the country’s ever known,” you argue back, Frank’s attempt at changing the subject nearly working to take your mind off Curtis’ comments.

“Yeah well, only one of us isn’t a hundred.” Frank steps forward to take his shot and Curtis uses it to his advantage, leaning in to speak only in your ear.

“He says you’re the first thing that makes him feel good about himself since Maria and the kids died. Like he’s got a purpose for himself instead of just existing to be the Punisher. Those of us in the profession like to call that hope.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as Curtis steps away to go order another round at the bar, his words lingering in your mind as you glance over to Frank. His dark eyes meet yours, then he clears his throat, and quickly turns his attention to Bucky, who is circling the pool table with deep concentration. You swear you see a dopey smile growing on his face as he looks at the floor, avoiding your gaze.

____________________________________

The wind is loud in your ears as Frank’s motorcycle weaves and zips through the New York streets. You grip tightly to his back and breath in the hints of his woody aftershave mixed with the remnants of gunpowder still engrained in the fibers of his jacket. The Brooklyn Bridge looms large above as you cross over it, making your way back towards your apartment.

“Tonight was fun, Castle. You bring all your first dates to such a romantic spot?” you ask as you and Frank stroll down the sidewalk, stretching out the steps it takes to walk from his bike, which he parked an entire block away in a not-so-subtle act of extending the evening, to your front door.

“Told you sweetheart, that wasn’t a date. And no, I got a little more class than that,” His hands shoved in his pockets as the crisp evening air stings against a still healing bruise on his left cheek bone.

“So where do you usually take your first dates?” you ask

“Italian. There was a little place in Hell Kitchen that I used to take Maria to, but it’s been closed for years now. Gotta find a new spot.”

Frank has never shyed away from bringing up his family with you. You love that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that and he’s made it clear one of the reasons he keeps you around is because you don’t “get all weird” around him when it does come up.

“Well this is my building.” you say with a nod of your head towards the front door. He knows that and you know he knows that, but still you weren’t quite sure what to say as the evening is clearly coming to it’s end.

Deep, dark eyes meet yours and you both stare for a moment, before he cups your jaw and draws your face close to his. His lips are soft, even hesitant as they meet yours gently. He doesn’t linger, but pulls away just enough to give you the choice about what happens next.

“You kissed me,” you comment, lips still hovering inches from his as a giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s what you do at the end of a date when it goes well. Know I’ve been outta practice for a while now, but didn’t think that part changed much.” The boyish charm you know hides behind such an intimidating man now appearing behind his soft stare and lopsided grin.

“I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Shit. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“I like Italian.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you respond nodding your head “So take me for Italian. On an actual date. And if it goes well, kiss me again.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” you confirm with another soft peck on his lips.

And for many years later, the number one argument in your relationship is which evening actually counted as your first date and which day your anniversary actually is. Frank lets you win that argument every time though. As embarrassed as he is when you tell people your first date was at a “seedy, Brooklyn dive bar no rational girl would’ve called him back after” (instead of the very romantic Italian spot he picked the next night,) it meant that you were his and that’s all that mattered.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle imagine #punisher x reader #frank castle fluff

[okchijt]

Hi! I'd like to request the legion aka frank yandere alphabet please! thank you 😘

Author's Note: The Halloween event is making me play even more unhealthy amounts of DBD so you know I just gotta do my boy Frank! I'm super excited for this one, especially since it's a yandere and an alphabet and this guy doesn't get much of either so I'm more than happy to provide! Definitely took some inspo from @yanderes-galore for this one so you must check them out if you're a lover of yandere content cause that's where you get the best kind of it! So do it NOW! And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!❤

Possible Trigger Warnings: Some minimal NSFW that is only mostly mentioned a few times with no explicit detail.

Frank Morrison -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Frank is a possessive individual, he makes sure you and everyone around him knows it. The same can be said with the way he shows his affection for you. At the end of the day, Frank is still human and even though he feels the need to fool himself and the others around him that he's a cold-hearted killer, he still craves your human touch. That being said he's not sweet or gentle with his affections for you, when he feels threatened, feels the need to remind you of your place or it's just a matter of his human desires he does possess a strong hold on you. Frank likes to hold you by the waist or put his arm around your shoulder, both methods effectively trapping you in place of no escape as he holds you with a deathly grip. Frank doesn't aim to provide you with physical love but to scare you with it into submission. But at the same time he'd rather die than admit that sometimes he just seeks to have you held against him out of pure desire, because, in the end, it does feel nice to be reminded of that human feeling.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Incredibly messy. He's a killer that thinks of himself as hot shit and will make sure to show that just by the way he murders your teammates. Outside of the realm he only has one kill count and that was enough for him to consider himself the best killer out there. It makes his blood boil to see your fellow teammates touch you and spend time with you when it should be him and he'll make sure they'll fear his wrath. Frank doesn't mind being covered in other's blood, he even sees it as some sort of trophy to be prideful about because he was the one that made them bleed. Escpesicailly if the person stood in their way to get to you, Frank will make sure they will have a painful end that he'll later proudly and mockingly tell you about as if expecting some sort of prize from the effort he went through just to have you with him alone.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Kind of yeah. He finds mocking you entertaining in a way, he likes to make you feel powerless against him, boosting his ego in the process. He likes to get you when you're at your lowest so he can guide you through mocking and insults to come fully undone for him, vulnerable enough for you to feel too weak to fight against him as he forces his so-called love on you. Though most of the time Frank would only do it if he's in a bad mood himself because a match went poorly or you're just being "uncooperative" with his affections for you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Absolutely he would. He forces his affection on you and sometimes forces you to reciprocate with threats of various kinds. At the end of the day, Frank is still a teen whose hormones still go off for him, and even though killing satisfies that side of him most of the time, he can't help himself when he's around you sometimes. He'd never outwardly go that far with you if you don't want to, he doesn't want to ruin all of his chances of you eventually falling for him for whatever reason. But do expect some nonconsensual touching here and there, like I said, he'd never go that far with you if you don't allow it, but he's not that good of a soul to limit himself that much for you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He'd never do that. Frank doesn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable to you, himself, his crew, or anyone else around him. He has a "reputation" to uphold after all and even though his insecurities get to him most of the time, he'd rather die than let you even witness or hear any of it. Not even as pretend to make you feel sympathy for him, the thought of being this exposed to you on whatever scale disgusts him and he will never resolve to it to trick you into having you. Not for your good, but for his.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused, but annoyed. Doesn't matter how much of a capable survivor you are, the Entity will make sure Frank will have an upper hand compared to you in the physical department. He likes the way you try to wiggle free against him or just you trying to fight back in general, he finds it funny because he knows no matter what you do there is no escape from him. Though Frank will get progressively more annoyed the longer you keep going, especially if there are flashlights/firecrackers involved. And because of that at some point, it stops being an entertaining game of cat and mouse and instead a serious threat of finally catching you with no escape.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Kinda, but only when he's 100% sure he'll catch you at the end of the trail or just in general. When things go Frank's way during trials, he'll take his sweet time getting you. He'll pretend to have not seen you hide inside that locker or let you wiggle off him and get away as he pretends he didn't see where you went. Instead, all his attention goes to your teammates as he focuses on taking them out, leaving you for dessert. It's just so amusing to him to see you try so hard knowing that he'll get you by the end and have his fun with you before either killing you or letting you go. On the other hand, if Frank gets absolutely destroyed during the trial his anger will blind him to only focusing on not letting you escape. At this point he has tunnel vision solely on you and will ignore everything else, just wanting to make sure to get you at the end as he lets all your teammates run past him to escape through the gate as he pins you down and prepares to let out all his frustrations on you before either taking mocking pity on you and letting you go or just outright killing you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being sacrificed the first time and all the other times depending on his mood it can get more brutal than it should. All the while he may just mock you for your existence alone and the things you make him feel as he murders you mercilessly for daring to fight back against him and not just submit. As well as mentioned before some nonconsensual touching, Frank will only stop the minute he knows he's not going to hold back if he lets himself go any further.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

There really isn't a future to think of when you're stuck in the Enity's realm, there is no personal purpose, growth or change you can make. So all Frank needs is what's already in front of him, you and the thrills you both provide each other whether you want to or not. But if Frank could wish for something to change in the future is for you to finally submit to him fully.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Extremely. He gets so jealous over your teammates being able to spend every waking moment of their pathetic existence with you instead of him. Just for that, he makes sure that if you're in a trial all of your teammates suffer twice as much. He wants to make sure they feel the jealousy and rage they make him put up with because of the privilege of them having you 24/7 and not him. Sometimes Frank gets more into it than he should and throws what's left of his jealousy onto you, accusing you of probably fooling around behind his back with your stupid teammates. Whether that is true or not Frank proceeds to give you mixed signals during his outburst as he continues to accuse you of being disloyal as he puts his arms around you as an act of affection. Lavishing in your touch as he reminds you and himself with his actions who you belong to as he spews venom at you through his gritted teeth.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Like he's better than you and you're his prey that he took pity on. You should be thankful he loves so just accept your role in this ''relationship'' and submit. Frank treats you as if you are inferior to him, but at the same time, he thinks you're so much better than everyone else. Frank not only tries to manipulate you but himself as well. He wants to make you feel powerless when with him, he likes to put you down, making him feel better for having does feelings for you. Frank hates that he feels such strong feelings for you, how can someone such as himself feel so drawn to a stupid survivor of all people? The only way he can excuse such feelings is by pity, a mocking kind. But deep down he knows it's not it, it's genuine from his end, but he will never admit to it to anyone especially not himself. So instead he hides behind the fact he's the hunter and you're the prey and abuses it so that the truth will never come out.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Through a trial of course. Doesn't matter if it's your first trial or one of the many ones you've had before, you've officially captured his attention. Whether it was because of the lovely reactions you gave him or the way you stuck with your team and had their back, doesn't matter, Frank is hooked from here on out and he can't wait to play with you some more when you meet again next trial. Approaching you though? Easy, just kill everyone so there's only you two left, that's plenty of time to begin a relationship and get to know each other, don't you think?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Just a bit, yes. Frank's just as cruel to you as he is to everyone else and he thinks he's better than you, but he does have that soft spot only for you at times. Sometimes he does genuinely want to show his affection for you, with no cruelty added to it. As much of a sadistic jerk he is, Frank does sometimes just want to spend time with you like lovers do, it's rare but it does happen especially when he's in a good mood. Otherwise don't expect much love and care 90% of the time that is purely genuine.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Depending on what you do, the more painful the punishment. If you misbehave or disobey him in more ways than one, expect to be cut in various ways both shallow and deep depending on how far you push it. But the worst you can get is straight-up murder, but in the realm that's nothing new, so Frank makes sure to make your deaths more painful than they should. He makes them last longer, makes them more gruesome and he does all of this while making sure to keep you alive the whole time so you can feel the utmost pain. All of this is to make sure you remember to stay in line next time.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As if you have any once you enter the Entity's realm. Frank takes anything he can get from you. He's too selfish to allow you to be with other people, especially the ones he views as under him, which is everyone but himself. Whenever you're forced to be in his presence, he will give you no free will. Frank takes away your decision-making and takes charge of anything of yours he can get, no matter how little the extent of it is.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Only when he's alone with you. At the beginning of the trial, there is no patience in him if things don't go his way. Frank will make sure to get through the trial as fast as possible, eliminating everyone until it's just you two left. His kills are sloppy and quick, wasting no time in finally getting you all to himself. When it eventually gets to that point he takes his sweet time with you, toying with you as you receive his unwanted affections. Wanting to draw out as much time as he can get with you, at that point he's just happy to have you all to himself again so he's patient from that point onward.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

None of these possibilities will ever come true in the Entity's realm. There are no buts or ifs, you are stuck in here with him forever. Therefore there would never be a scenario where Frank would have to deal with the fact you're not here with him anymore because that day will never come.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Why would he? Frank has no sympathy left in him at this point, not even his soft spot for you will change the way he feels nothing but pleasure in having you all to himself. So the answer is an ultimate no for both.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

A mix of curiosity and his background. It's curiosity that leads Frank to commit his first murder as well as enter the realm. He's never been a good person before the realm as well. What made Frank this infatuated with you though? The answer is even a mystery to him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Depends on the severity of your outburst and how long it lasts. If it's small or it doesn't last long then he'll find the situation amusing by teasing you. He basically doesn't take you seriously and will mockingly "try" to calm you down, effectively making the situation worse by making fun of you because he thinks it's cute to see you this vulnerable. But once you get even more upset, making the outburst an actual outburst Frank begins to get annoyed and even kind of panic. At that point, it's less funny to him and his mocking turns into actual insults with hints of actual concern that aim to fully calm you down. The longer you go on the more aggressive Frank is with his words and may even start being physical with you just to make you stop. Depending on how you react he will force you to get a hold of yourself or he just leaves you be for some hours so you both can calm down.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Frank's more than willing to hurt you. Both because it's just the reality you two live in now and it's essentially his "job" to hunt you down and make you weak before him both mentally and physically.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Maybe manipulation? Just mentioning that his crew must think less of him because he's actively seeking you out, that he's so obsessed with you. Just anything that could indicate him being weak or vulnerable makes his blood boil, mainly because he knows it's true. No matter how Frank views himself, there is a part of him that hates himself and you for making him so soft to the point where his crew can see it. But would it be enough to escape? No. You can point out the obvious to him and that'll only make him let out his frustrations on you or his crew if they dare say a word about it.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely. It's Frank's "job" so it's basically a given you'll either get slashed a few times before he lets you go or just moris you instead.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The only person Frank will worship is himself. Admittedly you're the most important person to him outside of himself and his crew but he still views himself above you so there is no need for worship. There is no need to win you over, you have no choice after all. Frank will court you however he likes and you can hate it and him as much as you want but you'll have no choice but to just deal with it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few trials at most. Frank needed to be 100% sure about you and his feelings for you before he became outright open with them. He needed to get to know you a little bit better before officially making you his, and by that I mean Frank relishing in the sweet reactions and screams you gave him. And maybe just the way you went about when you didn't know he was there and the way you worked with your team.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

The fact you're in a forced relationship with a killer that hurts/kills you and your teammates on the regular will definitely do more damage to you than if he was just a killer with no relations to you. That being said Frank wouldn't want to break you on purpose, he likes you the way you are because you haven't completely lost it yet and you satisfy his sadistic and obsessive needs. So ideally Frank wouldn't want to break you knowingly, but there would be a bigger possibility that he would indeed break you at some point.

#yandere alphabet #yandere x reader #yandere #frank morrison #yandere frank morrison #the legion #yandere the legion #frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #yandere frank morrison x reader #yandere the legion x reader #dbd #dead by daylignt #dbd the legion #dbd frank morrison #dead by daylight the legion #dead by daylight frank morrison #frank morrioson x gender neutral reader #the legion x gender neutral reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #yandere frank morrison x gender neutral reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere dead by daylight x reader #yandere dbd x reader #yandere dead by daylight x gender neutral reader #yandere dbd x gender neutral reader

[starlightshadowsworld]

what do you think would be punishments that little child Jason would receive and then tell his friends about super causally (they are terrified)?

love ur blog!

Tw for child abuse

.

.

Oh pretty normal ones, like having to run laps at the break of dawn for hours in heavy chain mail in the summer heat.

Getting his knuckles smacked until they bleed, courtesy of a Centurions vine stick.

Being denied food/ having to go hunt for it himself.

Getting sent into war games and having to fight on his own against an entire cohort.

Pretty normal things Jason went through as a child that he doesn't see as strange or abusive.

Adding onto his friends being horrified though, Hazel and Frank having heard and witnessed similar punishments while at Camp.

With Hazel making comparisons to the way the Sisters in her old school treated students.

Frank's mum was in the military and Percy has been to at least one military school.

So when Jason's acting like it's nothing, they know better.

#jason grace #hazel levesque #frank zhang #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #child abuse #tw child abuse

[saintmurd0ck]

AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK:

off that soft prompts list - tracing your lover’s scars, but matt x reader x frank and not just reader doing it, but guiding matt’s hands over frank’s body and the reverse 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do with that what you will polygodmother 💗

be still and feel my beating heart

let's have a sleepover at mine!

pairing: frank castle x reader x matt murdock

a/n: thank you so much for this wonderful ask, kay my darling. this was so beautiful and so soft; i'm sorry it turned out way angstier than intended but... enjoy anyway. 🥺

song pairing: dear august (pj harding & noah cyrus)

The howling wind seems to quieten as your fingers dance across Frank's chest, smooth skin and hardened muscle giving way to a ringed scar that ebbs underneath your fingertips.

You loose a heavy breath. "If you ever had the chance to heal this completely, would you take it?" Would you heal the mark and bear it internally instead?

Frank stills, as if your very question prods red-hot into the centre of his soul.

Heat blooms across your face as remorse surges through your veins. "I don't mean–"

"No. Never."

Matt props himself up with an elbow, shoving the covers off in the process. "Because the scars keep them alive, preserve their memory."

Frank's eyes flutter shut as the pit in your stomach opens up, eddying with shame and bitterness. With the guilt of asking the question. Or the fact that you thought about it in the first place.

Your heart sinks a little further as Frank's hand rests against your own, pressing it flat against the mark. "I'm forgetting things," he says, voice lowered to a near-whisper. "I can't remember her laugh. Or the way" —his voice breaks— "the kids would run up to me after school."

The three of you are silent for a second, interrupted only by a gust of wind that brushes up against the vaulted windows. He circles the scar gently. "That's uh— that's not even because of them. Got that one in Kandahar."

Matt swallows, reaching over to clasp his hand over Frank's. And yours. "Doesn't matter where or how you got it, Frank. You bleed the same. You bleed for them."

"That's right," Frank mutters, nodding his head slowly; the movement barely discernible in the dark.

Matt leans into his touch, gripping the both of you tightly. "You fight for them every single day. That's all you can do, and you do it, over and over again, without a second thought. They're proud of you, Frank. Of this life you've created, of the way you honour them."

Frank inhales sharply as you squeeze him, holding him as close to you as humanly possible. "And what about you, Red?"

"My scars?"

"Yeah. D'ya think you'd erase 'em, if you could?"

Matt purses his lips, tilting his chin to the ceiling. He seems poised to answer the question, but you know the expression on his face. He's deep in thought, and it's more than likely he's sifting through the memories of every cicatrix he's ever worn.

"I don't know," he murmurs, chewing on his lip. "On one hand, I'd get less questions, but on the other..." You press a kiss to Frank's shoulder as your hand now settles on the plane of Matt's stomach, hoping your touch offers him some semblance of support. He breathes a quick 'thank you' before continuing. "On the other hand, they remind me the fight is real. That everything I've done has been worth it, in some way or another."

You run your fingers through his hair, sensing the words he's left unsaid. "There's more, isn't there, Matt?"

"Hm?"

"They're a living reminder of your pain."

Matt turns his head away, as if to shield himself from the truth. "Yeah. So maybe I deserve it."

Frank wastes no time in cupping Matt's jaw, bringing his head back to face in the right direction, grumbling his disagreement in the process. "S'bullshit, Red. Absolute bullshit if I've ever heard it."

"Glad you think so, Castle," Matt scoffs, every word clipped.

You swipe a thumb over Matt's cheek, trailing your fingers down the side of his neck, earning a shudder in response.

"C'mere, Frank," you mumble, guiding his touch towards the long scar on Matt's stomach; the one given to him by Nobu.

Matt stifles a groan as the callouses of Frank's fingers scrape gently over his skin, then again as Frank's lips trace the outlines of the twin marks adorning his chest.

Your next words come out mumbled, dispersed amongst kisses that flutter down Frank's back. "You, my darling Matthew, bleed for Hell's Kitchen. And God knows the city's safer for it, so let your scars be a reminder of all the good you’ve done."

“That’s right, Red,” Frank adds. “‘Sides, you got us now, and I don’t want your sad Catholic boy act. You’ve done good. Hell, better than I ever could.”

As the world around the three of you begins to fade away, intercepted only by Matt’s hushed argument-in-response, you think about it for a second: how it'd well and truly take a lifetime to kiss every single scar flecking their bodies.

You might as well start right now.

#matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle smut #x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #saintmurd0ck let's have a sleepover #rhi's mutuals 💗 #rhi responds 💌 #rhi writes 💻 #frank castle angst #matt murdock angst

[untoldshortsofthefandoms]

Dull Dates

Request: from an anno from a long time

Prompts: “Can you zip up my dress?”

Word Count: 3785

Warnings: blood, some wounds. lots of sexual tension. bunch of fluff. 

Author’s Note: Hello beautiful humans!! I apologize for taking years to come back to writing, but I had a lot going on between college and personal life, but I’m happy to back reading and writing again. I still had my old taglist, I thought it would be best to not tag you, let me know if want to be tagged or added back. Gif is not mine

Dull Dates

God was this date boring, you thought to yourself as you sipped on the glass of wine. Does he ever stop talking about himself? You thought as you nodded your head. You were on a date with the hottest E.R. doctor at Bellevue but god was he dull. You were an E.R. nurse there and you heard how all the other nurses drolled over him, you personally didn’t see it the way they did. Yeah, he was cute but not droll-worthy. Faking a smile and giggle at his joke as you rolled your eyes hoping this so-called date would come to an end soon. Your phone buzzed on the table, you glanced down and saw his name flash across the screen.

Your heartbeat skipped a beat and quickly clearing your throat your gained Robert’s attention. “Excuse me, Robert but I have to go. Emergency.” You stated shaking your phone in your hand. 

Robert pulled his phone out, “I didn’t get a call from work though…” his voice trailed off, confused. 

“Not a medical emergency Robert…” you paused for a beat, thinking of an excuse “ a family one. I have to go.”

“At least let me take you home.”

“No,” you responded a bit too quickly. “ I’ll be okay. Thank you though.” you recovered, with a smile. You grabbed your jacket, quickly gave Robert a kiss on the cheek, and left the restaurant. 

     You began the twenty-minute walk back to your apartment when it began to rain. Of course, it would start to rain as you were making your way home. You picked up your pace not because of the rain, but because of what you knew would be waiting at your apartment door when you arrived. A bloody injured Frank Castle. Time always matted when it came to Frank Castle, especially if he was bleeding. You leaned against a lamp post as you slipped off your heels and began to run to your apartment. This was not how you pictured your night going, running barefoot through New York City in the rain was not the first thing you thought of when you got dressed for your date tonight. You took the back allies and side streets to get to your apartment building, that twenty-minute walk was cut down to eleven minutes. You walked up the flights of stairs to get to your apartment, your breathing was hard and heavy. Your lungs and legs felt like they were on fire. But you finally reached your floor, you walked down the hallway to notice the hooded figure leaning against your door. The huffing and puffing of your breathing alerted the figure of your presence. The water was dripping off you onto the floor as you walked over to your apartment door. 

The figure shifted to the right to let you open the door, “You know between you and work I don’t have a social life.”

The figure let out a low chuckle that turned into a groan of pain. “What did you do this time Frank?” you asked opening the door and letting you both inside.

   Frank waddled into your apartment and across to the dining table, where he hopped up and laid down. You never had anything on that table due to amount of times Frank visited, it turned into a permeant surgical table. You walked in, closing and locking the door behind you. You walked straight into the small bathroom in your apartment to grab your first aid medical bag. You tossed your heels back toward the front door as you made your way over to Frank. You dropped the bag on the breakfast cart you had and tied your wet hair back into a ponytail. 

“So what do I get to patch up today, Frank?” you asked trying to get him to talk. 

Frank gave you a side grin, “Stab wound and a few bullet holes.”

“Oh so the usual, will you ever stop getting hurt?” you asked as you pulled a pair of gloves out of the bag. 

“Only when you stop going out on dates with people who don’t deserve you,” he responded quickly like it bothered him you went on dates. 

Your eyes rolled on their own as a smile tugged on your lips and your cheeks began to feel warm. You turned around to face the man laying on your dining table, scissors in hand and gloves on. 

A mischievous smirk played on your lips, “You know the deal, Frank.”

“Do you have to cut my shirt off?” he groaned, even though it sounded more like a whine.

“It’s either I cut it off or rip it off.”

“You know I’d love it if you ripped it off, just as long as I get to rip that dress off you later,” Frank said in a husky voice as he gave you a wink. 

“You know, if I’d known any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You said smiling, as you cut up the center of his black shirt. You carefully and slowly opened his shirt to reveal the stab wound to his lower abdomen and a gunshot wound on his right shoulder. You looked over the rest of his upper half not seeing anything else.

“You know we should get an x-ray for that shoulder, could have bone damage” you stated.

“It didn’t go that far in, you just have to pull the bullet out and you know how I feel about doctors.”

“Yeah I know, and yet here you are getting stitched up by a nurse…” you said raising an eyebrow up at him, as you began to clean up the stab wound. It looked worse than it really was, blood tends to make things look worse than they are. The blood around the wound was cleaned off, then you moved to clean the actual wound. You pressed the cotton pad with alcohol on the wound. Frank’s muscles tensed when the pad touched the wound.

“I’m sorry” you whispered softly, “you know I have to.”  You continued to clean it up even more gently than before. His eyes stayed shut as he hissed in pain, “I know” his voice strained out softly.

   You hated seeing his face distort in pain, but you had to continue to patch him up. You had finished up with the two little stitches the stab wound needed when you covered it in gauze and tape. Next on the list of patchwork was that bullet hole in his shoulder, you took a deep breath going to the kitchen for a wooden spoon that you knew you’d need.

You went to the other side of the table, and up near his shoulder so you could work. You held out the wooden spoon in front of his face, “Here bite down on this” you spoke.

“I’d much rather bite you,” he said with a smirk. The pain he previously felt was no longer evident on his face. 

“Just bite the spoon. I don’t want the neighbors to hear you scream just yet,” you replied with a wink.

   Frank raised his eyebrow up and gave you a side grin. He made eye contact with you as he bit down on the handle of the wooden spoon. You give a slight eye roll, grabbing your phone for added light. You held tweezers in one hand and your phone in the other with the flashlight on. You tried looking into the hole first with the light in hopes of noticing a glint of the bullet, but no luck. You had to go in blind. You gently as possible insert the tweezers and carefully begin to move them around in hopes of finding the bullet. You look over at Frank and see the pain written across his features, but he isn’t making much noise. You know he is doing his best to remain still so you can work. You finally feel a bit of resistance and you heard a light clint of metal against metal. “Found it” you whispered gently.

   You used the tweezers to grab the bullet and began to slowly pull it back out the same way it went in, trying not to damage any more tissue or muscle. The bullet was out, and both you and Frank let out a breath that you both seemed to have been holding. Frank’s jaw tighten back up knowing what was coming next. You showed the light over the hole one last time, making sure there weren’t any fragments of the bullet left lodged in. The bullet seemed in tack though. 

“You ready?” you asked grabbing the alcohol and taking a deep breath.

  Clenched jaw, eyes screwed shut Frank nodded his head. You poured some alcohol from the bottle into the hole with a grimace expression as the muffled screams of Frank escaped his lips. You glanced over at him, your eyes full of sympathy for the man in front of you. You hated doing this to him, causing him pain but you had to in order to patch him up. You then began to stitch up the hole. Frank’s breathing went back to normal as he pulled the wooden spoon from his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke just above a whisper.

“Why you sorry sweetheart?”

“Cause I’m causing you pain,” your voice replied gently, “and not even the fun kind” you added with a smirk. 

Frank let out an exhausted chuckle, “On the contrary there sweetheart, I don’t like it too rough. For example, you in that dress you have on…” he pauses. “I wouldn’t rip it off you…” Frank swallows the lump that sat in his throat. “No, no. I’d take my time. I’d kiss up your arm, across your neck then down across your collarbones all while my hands traveled from your hips up your back to that zipper…” he paused again, as he turned to face you. Your cheeks had turned a shade of red, your hands slightly shook as your heartbeat continued to increase and now you felt a pit in your stomach. 

Frank watched your reaction carefully, he noticed the shaky hands and uneven breathing pattern. He knew his words had an effect on you, but he decided that he should let you work. “But I’ll let you finish that story,” he said with a side wink.

You cleared your throat trying to gain back your focus to finish up that last stitch. Then you bandaged up his shoulder. You helped Frank sit back up and you looked him in the eye, “Anything else you need?”

“Yeah… you,” he said casually.

“Besides me, any other injuries?” you asked with a smirk.

“Can you check to see if this bullet grazed my leg or not?” he knew it was just a graze but he wanted to spend more time with you.

“Sure but you know that means I cut your pants,” you stated using your fingers to make a cutting motion.

“Can’t you just take them off instead darling?” Frank pleaded, not wanting to have his pants cut up.

“Alright fine, off the table.”

    You helped Frank slip off the table carefully to not rip open any of the stitches you just did. You bit your lip at the man standing in front of you, giving your head a quick shake to focus back on the task. Your hands went towards his waistband with a slight shake in them. You fumbled with the belt and button of his jeans, not due to lack of experience, no it was because it was Frank. After successfully unzipping his pants, you slowly pulled them down. Frank watched your every move carefully, it had been a long time since someone undressed him, let alone someone who looked like you. He did his best to keep his thoughts from traveling, trying not to picture you pinned beneath him on the table he was leaning against. He looked up at the ceiling trying to clear his head, as his pants reached his ankles. 

You spoke up, trying not to look up at him now that you were on your knees in front of him, “Whereabouts?”

“Outer right thigh area,” he said monotoned. 

“I’m gonna have to move your boxers up.”

“I know,” he gulped.

   You took the edge of his boxers in your hand, as you gently pulled it away from his thigh and began to push up. You notice a little blood in the curve of his thigh muscle. Upon further inspection, it seemed to just have been a graze from the bullet. You cleaned up the area and added a small bandage.

“There…” you said clearing your throat, “all done. Unless there is anything else that needs my attention.” You got back to your feet, chest to chest with Frank, giving him a smile. 

“Nothing sweetheart,” he said making eye contact and then shifting his gaze down to your lips before bringing it back to your eyes.

    Frank thought about what it would be like to kiss you, to undress you the way you did him gently. To have his fingertips brush against your soft skin, just like your soft fingers did; to tell you what he was doing just like you. He found it comforting when you told him what you needed to do, making sure he was okay with everything that was happening. He wished to give you that same comfort. You leaned away from him, as you began to clean up the trash.

    You made it into the kitchen where you dropped all the trash into the can as you pulled the used gloves off dropping them in too. You washed up as Frank carefully pulled his pants back on. You turned around to face a shirtless Frank, with his pants hanging loosely around his waist. You watched him, he had always caught you off guard. The beautifully sculpted muscles he had made him look like a Greek god. The scruffy beard that hugged his strong jawline. He was your definition of hot. You tried to not stare too long but Frank noticed as he finished pulling his belt through the last loop, he gave you a smile. He walked over to you, you blinked repeatedly then quickly dropped your face to look towards your kitchen floor. His boots came into your vision, as he placed a fingertip under your chin lifting your face to look up at him. His eyes traveled around your face before landing on your lips, he leaned down towards you slowly. His breath felt warm against your face, and you panicked. 

You turned your face out of his path, “Can you unzip me?” you asked, trying to act like you didn’t notice how close you two were to kissing. 

He cleared his throat, regathering his thoughts, “Sure.”

    Frank brushed your ponytail off to one shoulder as he began to unzip your dress painfully slow. His eyes followed the zipper down your back, stopping just above your hips. He brought his hands back up to the base of your neck to undo the clip. He leaned over your right shoulder, as his hands slid down your arms and gently snaked around your waist.

“Done,” he whispered softly into your ear. 

  Your heart was pounding hard against your breastbone. You turned your face to meet his, your eyes connected. “Thanks…” you whispered softly. You felt his warm breath fan against your lips. Your eyes drifted down towards his soft-looking lips, then back up to his inviting eyes. You felt the want in the pit of your stomach to lean in and kiss him, but you turned out of his grasp. You looked away and started towards your bedroom.

“I’m gonna change and head to bed.” you said trying to keep a steady voice, “You can stay on the couch if you’d like.” 

“I think I’ll head out,” Frank replied in a hardened voice as if he was trying to hold himself together.

You stopped in your tracks at the difference in his voice, you turned back to him. You did your best not to let your voice falter, “Okay, if you need anything you know how to find me.”

    Frank turned to look at you when he heard the pads of your feet stop. He looked at you for what felt like forever to him. He watched your lips pull into a soft smile. He simply nodded his head, not trusting his voice anymore. He grabbed his jacket from the table and walked out the door. You watched him, hearing the slight slam of your apartment door. 

    You continued to walk into your bedroom, slowly closing the door behind you. Back pushed up against the door, you did your best to regain control of your unsteady heartbeat and uneven breathing. Your eyes closed, as images of what just happened swiped through like a movie. You and Frank always teased and flirted while you patched him up, that was nothing new. Your reactions to his flirtatious comments and mannerisms were nothing you weren’t used to. It was how close you two were to kissing, that was new, and new was a bit scary but this was Frank, he made things easy. A long exhale brought you back to reality, you slipped your hand through your tied-back hair. You dropped the dress that had once covered your body to the floor. You slipped into the bathroom and took a warm shower after stepping into a freezing one to clear your thoughts. You got changed into something comfortable for bed, before slipping off to sleep. 

   The week had gone by with no new visits from Frank, no new text messages, no nothing from the man. But unsurprisingly Robert had asked you out again stating he wanted to finish the date you two started the other night. You had accepted his offer, simply to be kind and in the hope to get the thoughts of Frank out of your mind. Also if you spent the night with Robert it meant you didn’t have to spend it alone with your thoughts. 

    You were getting ready for the evening, soft music playing through your bedroom. You slipped into a curve-hugging black dress that stopped just above your knee. The sheer black top covered the deep v cut in the solid black material, the sheer also covered the exposed back of the dress. You were reaching for the zipper when a loud knock came on your door. You held the front of the dress against your body as you made your way to the door. The metal of the door handle felt cool as you opened it to come face to face with Frank. 

   Frank’s eyes widened at you in the dress, he felt his hand ball into a fist as he thought of everyone who get to see you in that dress. He let his eyes wander across your figure, and that dress hugged every inch it covered. He felt his heart stop and start as he tried to pull his eyes up to yours. He closed his eyes for a moment before looking into your eyes.

“Hey Frank,” you said timidly, as you felt slightly self-conscious under his stare.

“Hi sweetheart,” Frank said softly.

“Anything wrong soldier?” you asked trying to gain back the normal confidence you have with him.

“Uhh… nothing physically,” he responded, “Can I come in?”

“Sure” you stepped to the side opening the door more, allowing Frank to slip inside.

As he walked by, you caught the smell of gunpowder, gun oil, and something you couldn’t pinpoint but it was all Frank Castle. You closed the door behind him, as he now stood in the middle of your living space. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Not really,” you replied walking past him towards your bedroom, “just getting ready for a date.”

Frank’s eyes followed you to your bedroom, where your voice sang out from. He cleared his throat, “Lucky guy.”

“Yeah, I guess but he is very dull, sadly.”

“Then why go out on a second date?” he questioned as he leaned against your bedroom door frame.

“Cause the first one was interrupted by someone…” you trailed off, glancing over at Frank. He looked really good, leaning against your door frame. Frank was droll-worthy in your personal opinion. 

Frank pretended to be shocked, “Who? Me?” he pushed off the door frame walking towards you, “And here I thought I saved you from a dull date.” He said finally towering over you.

You looked up at him with a smile, “You did, but I do owe him a full date to at least try to be less dull than that first one.”

Frank looked down at you, directly into your eyes. “And when do I get my date with you?” he asked softly.

You brought your bottom lip in between your teeth biting down before you felt a wave of shyness rush over you as you looked down towards the ground. You quickly looked back at him with the heat on your cheeks burning your skin, as you looked back into his eyes, “Are you asking me out on a date Frank?”

“Maybe.”

You turned around facing away from him, you gathered your hair to one side, “Can you zip up my dress for me?”

    You felt his left hand gently grab your hip as he pulled the zipper up. His warm grip left, leaving your hip cold against the air of your room. His hands found their way to the base of your neck where the clip of the dress was, securing it into place. He let his hands travel across your shoulders, down your arms leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt his warm body pressed up against you, as his hot breath brushed next to your right ear. His husky voice spoke softly, almost like music into your ear, “Done.”

He stepped away from you, his warmth leaving with him. You turned to face him again. 

“You look beautiful,” he breathed out, “Have fun tonight. I’ll try to stay out of trouble.” 

He gave you his signature smirk, which he reserved only for you. He turned and walked out of your bedroom leaving you to finish getting ready for a date with someone who wasn’t him. 

“Frank,” you called out to him.

He stopped in his tracks, “Yeah?”

“Thank you, and don’t change your plans tonight for me,” you spoke, “I’m sure I can find a different date some other night,” you flirted. 

Frank’s back was still towards you, so you didn’t get to see the smile that graced his lips as he walked out of your apartment.

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Taglist:

@uselsshuman

#frank castle #the punisher #the punisher oneshot #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x gender neutral reader #punisher #marvel #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #jon bernthal

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517 @panicatthediaz @mandriice @nightmareglitter

Tw Laura is only in memory, but she does hit little Chrissy.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chrissy's POV

Chrissy slid to the floor of the kitchen, having just said goodbye to her boyfriends. She hated parting with them, but she knew that they needed confirmation and that someone needed to be here for Max.

"You didn't have to stay here for me, you know?" Max said as she slid to the floor next to her.

"I wanted to," Chrissy said and squeezed her hand. "I'm just worried about them. I'm worried about all of us."

"Me too," Max said softly.

"It's just utter bullshit that we had to be benched!" Dustin complained.

"Oh, man, come on. You know that Steve was right," Lucas said.

"I know, I just want to be helpful," Dustin said. "I hate the waiting around."

"You have been helpful, son," Wayne said. "And there's nothing to be done about the waiting around part."

Vickie joined Chrissy and Max on the floor.

"We have yet to talk about you and your new boyfriends," Vickie said and paused. "I like them much better than Jason. You seem happy."

"I am. They're both very kind, not to mention dashing. . .," Chrissy said.

"Eddie? Dashing?" Lucas snorted. "That's not the word that I would use."

"Hush, you," Chrissy said playfully. "Anyway, they're both handsome and funny. Although, Eddie can really go on about the things that he likes, which I find very endearing."

"You think he talks a lot now, just you wait," Wayne said, scoffing. "Boy even talks in his sleep."

"He does? That's so cute," Chrissy grinned.

"I'm glad you like him so much," Wayne said in amusement. "I'm glad he's found someone like you two."

"We wouldn't change a thing about him," Chrissy said, and then she paused. "Well, he can be a little set in his ways sometimes, but it's nothing we can't handle. . . Vickie, tell us about you and Robin."

"She's so great! She rambles on just like me when I get nervous, you know? It's so cute when she does it. Did Steve tell you that they've talked about opening their own buisness together?" Vickie asked.

"Yeah," Chrissy said in amusement. "Kind of like us wanting to collaborate on a book together."

"You guys want to write a book together?" Max asked.

"Well, it would be Vickie doing the writing and me doing the illustrations," Chrissy said. "I love to draw."

"That's actually really cool," Max said.

They all talked about their hopes and dreams for a while until they all nodded off, the moonlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains and casting a line on the wall. She watched it for a while, watching the tiny dust particles float through the air. Eventually, sleep caught up with her, and she closed her eyes, her cheek pressing against the top of Max's head. She wasn't sure how long it had been, but Chrissy and the others had awoken to the sound of their secret knock coming from the front door in very loud bangs. Wayne opened the door for Jeff, Frank, and Gareth. Their faces were bleeding and bruised.

"Jason and his friends are coming. We stole Nancy's car," Frank said. "The others got pulled into the lake when they showed up. Jason and his goons must have been patrolling the area. We got away and tried to turn them away, but Nancy's car is low on fuel, and we needed to get to you guys. They're coming! We need to leave now."

"Okay, we'll take Steve’s car, too. Grab what you need. Turn on the lights and pull down the curtains. Rearrange the blankets," Wayne said. "And let's go."

"Steve gave me his keys before they left," Chrissy said.

"Good. Do you know how to drive?" Wayne asked, and Chrissy nodded. "Let's go!"

"Where are we going?" Max asked.

"The other gate. At the high school," Dustin said. "I'm hoping that's where they'll be."

It wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be driving with her cast. Max and Lucas had squeezed into Wayne's truck with Wayne. Vickie was sitting up front with Chrissy while Jeff, Frank, and Gareth squeezed in the back of Steve’s car. Chrissy's tape was blasting in Steve’s stereo, drowning out any possible conversation, not that Chrissy had anything to say. All she could think about was Steve and Eddie. Were they okay? Were they still alive? Chrissy suddenly imagined Steve’s body being broken in the sky, and she bit her lip to hold back the sob. No, Vecna wasn't going to kill Steve. She wasn't going to let that happen. Their tires screeched as they pulled into the parking lot. They all ran towards the spot where Fred died and stopped when they saw the gate stretched out on the ground.

"Fuck," Jeff muttered.

Dustin scurried off and came back with a big stick. He moved toward the gate, but Chrissy stopped him, pushing him back. She gestured for the kids to move back while Wayne grabbed the stick. He started pushing through the skin like texture spread over the gate. Soon, it was open, and she was in the arms of her boyfriends. Then suddenly she wasn't.

"Chrissy. . .Chrissy Cunningham. You and Max escaped me once before. . .You won't do it again. . . Chrissy. . .let me end your suffering. . . "

Chrissy was standing in what looked like a hospital hallway or a lab, possibly. There was a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. She ran as fast as she could and burst through the doors into a blue Victorian style house. It was beautiful and new. A family was moving in, and on the outside, they looked beautiful, happy. . .almost too happy. Chrissy could tell when people were trying too hard. She had seen enough of it from her mother. The girl was dancing through the hallway. The young boy looked bored, and there was something off-putting about him. The wife called her husband Victor. Chrissy's eyes widened. This was Victor's family. She could only watch as the family was haunted and then brutally killed. The only one who was calm amongst them all was the boy, Henry. The scene ended with Victor cradling his little girl in his arms.

It changed, and she was back in the lab again, watching as a creepy looking doctor tattooed Henry, looking at him like he was a weapon to be used. 001. The look on the doctor's face was absolutely gleeful. The creepy feeling she got from the kid was similar to the one she got from the doctor. Dr. Brenner, she later learned, was his name. The scene changed again. A girl, her head shaved, was sitting on the floor in a rainbow painted room. A blond haired man was sitting next to her. He looked familiar to her, and as Chrissy moved closer, she realized that the man in front of her was Henry Creel. He was clearly manipulating the girl.

"Chrissy," a familiar voice called out.

She looked up to find Matty standing in the doorway.

"Matty?"

"You have to fight him. You have to fight it," Matty said.

He turned and ran down the hallway. Chrissy ran after him, and she was reminded of all the times that they played tag together. She followed him through one door and found herself in her house. She was looking at a younger version of herself. She was four, maybe five. Laura was trying to make her wear an ugly, frilly orange dress. Young Chrissy hated it.

"I don't wanna!" Young Chrissy screamed.

"Christine Cunningham! You will listen to me!" Laura exclaimed.

"No!" She shrieked.

To Chrissy's surprise, the lights flickered, and the dress was torn out of Laura's hand. It was flung against the opposite wall by an invisible force. Young Chrissy's nose started dripping blood. Chrissy's eyes widened. She did not remember this at all. Laura's hand shot out and slapped young Chrissy's face.

"What did I say about using the devil's magic?!" Laura yelled. "Get on your knees."

"Mama!" Young Chrissy cried.

"On your knees," Laura said softly.

Young Chrissy got on her knees while Laura did the same. Laura took her hands in hers, gripping it tightly, and started to pray. Young Chrissy continued to cry. Suddenly, Chrissy was standing in her living room watching the TV. It was showing Hawkins being split wide open. It was like hell on Earth. Matty was standing beside her again.

"You have to fight it, Chrissy. Stop him. You have the power. You've always had the power. You don't have to run from it anymore," Matty said softly.

"Are you really Matty?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes and no. I'm the part of him that you keep alive inside of yourself, and I'm the part of you who wants to keep fighting. Chrissy, you fought for me every single day of my life. It's time you fought for yourself too," Matty said. "Do you remember how I died?"

"It was an asthma attack," Chrissy said.

"That's what mom told you," Matty said.

The screen flickered, and it was early November 1983. It was right around the time Will Byers had gone missing. Chrissy was doing her homework when Matty screamed. She watched herself run out the door and out into the backyard. A shadow loomed over Matty, his body still. The creatures head snapped up, its lower part of the face dripping with blood. The face opened up like a deformed flower, and it screamed at Chrissy. She hadn't used her powers in a long time, but she tried to use them then, and she did everything she could do to blast it away from Matty. She pushed it away from him with her powers and watched as it ran off. She collapsed to the ground, Matty's lifeless eyes staring at her.

"It came for you that night. Henry came for you. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mom told you it was an asthma attack because you couldn't remember what happened after. She thought you killed me. You thought so too, I think. You tried to save me, and you've always tried to save me. You don't need to be afraid of your powers anymore, Chrissy," Matty said and took her hand. "Save us."

Suddenly, she was standing in pitch blackness and in water. A girl stood before her, the same girl from earlier, but she was older now. Her head was still shaved or maybe it was shaved again.

"I'm Eleven, but my friends call me El," she said.

"Chrissy," she said softly. "You're friends with Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Mike is your boyfriend?"

"Yes," El grinned. "You are friends with them too?"

"Yes."

"You're like me and Henry?" El asked.

"I'm like you, yes," Chrissy said. "And we do have powers like Henry, but we're not monsters like Henry or like Dr. Brenner. We don't have to be their puppets, not for either one of them."

"No, we're not puppets," El said determinedly.

Chrissy smiled and took her hand.

"Let's cut the strings then," Chrissy said. "Together."

"Sisters," El said nodding.

"Sisters," Chrissy agreed.

Suddenly, the connection with El was cut off, and Chrissy was standing in the rainbow room again. Henry was standing in front of her, a crooked smile on his face. It was twisted just like he was.

"Join me, Chrissy. Your suffering will end, and you will be stronger than ever," Henry said.

"You only want one thing from me: my power," Chrissy said.

"A power that you didn't even know you had," Henry said. "I showed you that."

"You're getting nothing from me, from El, or from this town," Chrissy said.

She dug down deep, letting the anger take control. The door that she kept locked burst open, and she felt the power building up inside of her.

"Chrissy. . ."

Matty stood next to her, slipping his hand into hers and holding on tightly. The power inside of her grew bigger, and Henry scowled at her.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Chrissy screamed.

Suddenly, she was floating in the school parking lot. Her boyfriends and friends were screaming her name down below. She raised her hand and pointed it at the gate, blood gushing from her nose. It started stitching itself closed until there was nothing left but the smooth pavement. She could feel the other gate still wide open, but she was too tired to close it from here. Suddenly, she was aware of just how tired she was, and it was like the strings were cut. Then she was falling and fell right into the arms of her lovers. She clutched Eddie and Steve, exhausted but still holding on.

"I'm not a fucking puppet," Chrissy said and then she fell asleep.

Chapter Sixteen

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington #cheerscoops #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x eddie munson #hellcheerington #steddissy #bisexual chrissy cunningham #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bi4bi4bi #stranger things fanfiction

[mags-writes]

Sunlight || Part III

Summary: frank offers his shoulder for you to cry on

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

Three weeks had gone by. Three weeks of you and Frank dancing around each other while trying not to tip off Matt that there was something going on.

But was there? Frank seemed so in control over every fiber of his being that you doubted anything was actually going on. Then there were the days that he got home before Matt. He would stand behind you, towering above you, and give your shoulders a rub with his rough hands. He handled you like glass, like if he moved too suddenly you'd bleed. He'd help you cook dinner and tell you how beautiful his lunch was that afternoon, that the only thing missing was your company. He'd pick up when you started getting a cramp in your hand from cutting up enough vegetables for three people and rub his thumbs in soothing circles to make it go away. Then Matt would walk through the door.

Something was going on. That was for sure, even if you doubted it sometimes.

The first time you saw Matt leave the apartment in the middle of the night, you kept your breathing even and didn't move a muscle. You weren't surprised when Frank's phone woke you up a couple hours later and he left in a hurry as well. The next day when you woke up to Matt with a frozen bag of green beans to his jaw, you scolded him like an older sister. The topic of Daredevil had never come up in your mind until then. You didn't know if it was even him to start off with and if it was then who else knew? Did Foggy and Karen know like back in your dimension? Did Frank?

Matt lied straight through his teeth with a guilt-ridden expression. He fell down the stairs. Allegedly.

Other Matt tried that lie once. Only once. Before you ripped him a new asshole. And it led to you becoming his girl in the chair. It also led you to own your own firearm after some kidnappings put you in the hospital once the bad guys found out Daredevil was running around with an earpiece.

You stopped what you were about to say, Frank rounding the corner after hearing your voice echo through the apartment. You took a deep breath and accepted the gracious gift of hindsight.

"If you're lying to cover up the fact that you got punched by someone-" You were about to start a rant again when Frank chuckled.

"Who'd be cruel enough to punch a blind guy?" He said, coming closer and taking the bag off of Matt's face. "What'd you do? Fall down some stairs again?"

Oh.

Oh, Frank knows. That's why he calls Matt 'Red'.

You willed yourself for the love of god to play it dumb. Like you didn't just put the pieces together. One man before you was blind, but despite being a walking lie detector, he wouldn't be able to see your face. The other, while he admitted to being dense, could read people better than you could ever hope to.

"Whatever," You mumbled, throwing your hands up and going around them both to start your normal routine of making your coffee that had been laid out by Frank and making them lunch. "Bro code, I get it."

"Sweetheart-"

"No, it's fine." You interrupted because if you didn't then you'd fold like a lawn chair. "Have each other's backs. That's what friends are for."

You heard Frank sigh and one of them walk away.

"Hey," Frank said, putting both of his hands on your shoulders and coaxing you to turn around. You put up a little fight, stirring your coffee before Frank put more pressure and you relented with your eyes down. "Hey, hey. Look at me, hm? Look at me."

You huff, snapping your eyes up with a hint of anger.

"He forgets I know what it looks like when he lies." You said.

"Okay, so what do you think happened?" He calmly asked, and you knew exactly what he was doing.

"I don't know!" You brought your hands up in front of you. "But it's the same shit excuse the other Matt gave me every time he showed up with a beaten-up face and a limp."

Frank frowned, probably turning over the question of why Matt hadn't told you his secret.

"When did your Matt become 'other' Matt?" You froze, not expecting that question in the slightest.

You stuttered, stumbling over your words, starting a sentence and breaking off at the first word before shutting your mouth and intently looking at his chest. It wasn't hard, he was tall enough that you fit perfectly under his chin and your head rested against his chest.

You took in a sharp breath. "I don't want to go back." Frank reached out, putting his hands on your biceps, squeezing comfortingly and you brought yours to his chest, scrunching the material of his work shirt in tight fists. "All of you take for granted how safe you are here. You don't get it, I've looked up all the bad guys from my dimension, and nine out of ten times they're not here. I'm safe here."

"What about your Matt?" Frank asked, frowning like he didn't quite get it. "He's like your brother."

You look back at him at that. Matt was in his room, most likely listening in. If you said what you wanted to say then he would hear. You stuttered slightly again, getting frustrated that you couldn't get the words out.

"He doesn't see it that way." You finally got out, avoiding Frank's eyes again and you lowered your voice as tears started to gather. "He's been more Catholic whore than having Catholic guilt these days. He went through Clair and Karen and nothing's been the same since. I turned him down and I thought that we had moved passed it but right when I was brought here he brought up the topic again. I-Frank, I'm not safe there-I don't want-"

You started to cry then, sniffling and fighting off the tears as hard as you could.

"Hey, hey." Frank soothed, putting his hand behind your head and bringing you to his chest, rubbing your back with the other hand. "It's okay, doll. You don't wanna go, you don't have to."

"What if he shows up? What if he comes here and-"

"I won't let him." He squeezed tighter. I won't let him take you from me. "I won't let him make you do anything you don't wanna do."

Frank nearly sighed in relief when he remembered he was supposed to be convincing you that Matt wasn't Daredevil. Your use of 'other Matt' had thrown him so harshly that he couldn't stop his curiosity. He wondered for a moment that if you had been hiding that detail from them all then what was it like with Karen and Foggy?

You pulled back suddenly, wiping at your face and groaning for a second before shaking your head and looking up at him.

"Okay. I'm fine." You said. "Go drink your shit coffee." You started lightly pushing him away. "Go, I've got lunches to make."

Frank took a hold of your hands with a small smile, giving the upside of your palms a kiss each to the scars you refuse to tell him about that sat in the middle. Your face softened at that. A small smile fought its way to your face as he then leaned in to kiss your forehead. You had to quickly turn back to your coffee at the look he gave you, a look that he had been giving you more and more frequently, especially around Matt.

Not long later you finished up their lunches and they were sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you to bring it to them before they left. Just as usual you walked over to Matt first, him reaching out for the container and putting it in his bag then you moved to Frank who did the same. This time Frank stood first, giving you another kiss on the forehead and saying his goodbyes which confused you as Matt was usually the first out the door.

You cast a look down at Matt who by now was twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Frank to leave. Once the door was closed and Frank's heavy steps had faded he stood up.

"I'm sorry about before." He said earnestly, and you knew he was telling the truth. "I didn't mean to stress you out."

"I just-" you cut yourself off, pausing and thinking for a moment, remembering that he had absolutely heard everything you tearfully confessed to Frank. "I don't want you to lie to me."

"And I don't want to lie to you." He came forward, bringing you into a hug that you went into comfortably.

"Does it have something to do with a case?" You asked into his chest. "Are you in danger? Do we need to call the police?"

"I'll explain everything to you tomorrow night." He said as if he had just decided it at that moment. Like he was desperate to make you happy. "I promise."

He kissed the top of your head. Memories of your brother's all doing the same rushing to the surface of your mind. Memories of Matt doing the same when you were growing up. You never told him your brothers did that, never told him what it meant for him to do it. Never told him that other Matt had stopped.

"I'm not going to be coming home tonight." He said, pulling back.

"What?" You frowned harshly and he could hear it in your voice making him wince.

"Tomorrow night, remember?" He put both of his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "I just have to take care of some things tonight and hopefully it'll be sorted by tomorrow."

"And if it's not?"

"Then you'll hear about it." He said with a smile.

"What? On the news?" You said stressed again.

Matt laughed, bending down to pick up his bag.

"Let's hope not." Was his answer.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfic #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic

[chronophobique]

Draco is Hermione’s +1 at her cousin’s wedding

— 653 words

“What are those Muggles so bloody excited about?”

Already on edge, Granger rolls her eyes. “Have you really never been to a wedding before?”

“Do I look like someone who gets invited to weddings?”

“I don’t know,” she replies in an exasperated tone as she downs her glass of champagne in one go. “I guess not.”

“Granger. You do know this is an expensive wine, right? You’re supposed to only sip enough of it to coat your tongue, then let it sit in your mouth for a moment to—”

The glare she gives him is so frank and familiar that the sight makes him forget whatever he’s talking about.

Fuck, he’d missed that.

“In the Muggle tradition, a bride is considered lucky,” she explains, her big brown eyes shining as they do every time she gets the chance to share her knowledge.

“So, to improve their own luck, guests try to grab something that belongs to her. Like her dress, her hair, or flowers.”

“Are they going to strip her once the ceremony is over? Because if I would be quite impressed, I don’t think I ever agreed to be the witness of such a—”

“No, you idiot,” she chuckles, and Draco can see in her gaze that she immediately regrets not having contained it the second the soft sound of her laughter floats in the thick air between them.

“She’s going to throw her bouquet randomly into the crowd,” she adds more seriously, her cheeks a redder colour. “And the person who will catch it will claim their luck in being the next to wed.”

“Hm, let me guess. You have no intention of catching this bouquet.”

“Indeed.”

“Because you have no desire to get married.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her watching him for the briefest second. “No, because my feet already hurt in those heels, and jumping around would make them bleed.”

At her unexpected answer, hope blooms in his chest, warming his heart like a blanket.

He’d always thought she’d broken up with him because she had no interest in marriage. Or rather, in marrying him.

“Remind me what I’m doing at this wedding with you?”

“Draco,” she sighs. “You know exactly why you’re here, and I really need you to stop bringing it up. Please. It’s just for a day.”

“Ah, yes, because you’re still so in love with me that you forgot to tell your grandmother about our breakup. Right.”

“She has a fragile heart,” she snaps, lowering her voice when she notices the old lady in question looking in their direction with a big, bright smile on her face. “And I didn’t forget. You know how much she likes you, it’s not that easy to—”

“Admit it to your grandmother or to yourself?”

First, her eyes widen, and then she’s looking everywhere but at him. “You need to respect my decision—”

“I would, but I don’t see how I can when you didn’t even see fit to give me an explanation.”

She knows he’s right, and she can’t stand it. “I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“If you assure me that you no longer share my feelings, we won’t have to.”

An eternity seems to pass before she finally says, “You know I could never tell you that.”

“In that case…” he trails off, handing her his glass before smoothing out his suit jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing your grandmother I didn’t come only for the petits fours.”

And just like that, he’s confidently making his way through the crowd of waiting Muggles, effortlessly catching the bouquet as it is tossed in the air before nonchalantly returning to his witch’s side.

“I’ll be expecting an invitation to your future wedding,” he whispers so that only she can hear as he takes his glass from her hand to place the bouquet in it. “And by that, I don’t mean as a guest.”

#dramione #dramione fanfic #dramione drabble #dhr fandom #hermione x draco #draco x hermione #harry potter #draco malfoy #hermione granger #chronophobiquedrabbles

[harrisonstories]

George Harrison + his passions

“George tried to teach himself. but he wasn’t making much headway. ‘I’ll never learn this,’ he used to say. I said, ‘You will, son, you will. Just keep at it.’ He kept till his fingers were bleeding.” - Louise Harrison, The Beatles

“He’d just go into another space. I felt maybe he was unhappy. He meditated for so long, for hours. It seemed to me as if he preferred to be in a meditative state than in a waking, conscious state. He liked the peace and calm.” - Pattie Boyd

“The house and the garden became an obsession with George. He found out everything there was to know about Sir Frank Crisp, how and why he built that extraordinary house and garden, why he wanted to re-create the Blue Grotto of Capri and build a mini Matterhorn in the Oxfordshire countryside. He wanted to get inside Sir Frank’s mind and fit into his old boots, and he seemed to want to do it alone. I can be obsessive, but then I get bored and need a change." - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

"He’d garden at night-time until midnight [...] He missed nearly every dinner because he was in the garden. He would be out there from first thing in the morning to the last thing at night." - Dhani Harrison, Living in the Material World

“When she first met George she didn’t know what George was talking about half the time, he was always quoting Python or ‘The Producers’. He used to say to Olivia ‘Ah my little Swedish bombshell’ which she explained she obviously didn’t look Swedish, but it was a line from the movie The Producers.” - Greg, Olivia Harrison in Sydney

“Back at Friar Park, George runs through whole scenes of The Producers word for word - acting the parts out extremely well." - Michael Palin, Halfway to Hollywood: Diaries 1980–1988

"What was always embarrassing with him was that he knew everything backwards and forwards with Python, and he’d throw out a line expecting you to come back with whatever the response should’ve been. I didn’t know what he was talking about half the time." - Terry Gilliam, Concert for George (backstage interview)

"George quoted Bob like people quote Scripture. Bob really adored George, too. George used to hang over the balcony videoing Bob while Bob wasn’t aware of it. Bob would be sitting at the piano playing, and George would tape it and listen to it all night." - Tom Petty, Rolling Stone

"He got very into the uke. Actually, bordering on obsessively into the uke at some points, and uh, you know, he was taking me to George Formby conventions. That was when I started to notice that he was very into the ukulele. [laughs]" - Dhani Harrison, Breakfast with the Beatles

"I made some Rutle merchandise for Can’t Buy Me Lunch, but I gave it all to George who adored all Rutle stuff. I think the most successful present I ever gave him was a Rutle guitar, which Danny Ferrington made for me. It featured the Rutles looking out of the windows of a car, and George was thrilled with it." - Eric Idle, Greedy Bastard Diary

"The last time I saw George was in August, in Switzerland, on the Swiss-Italian border, where he was undergoing treatment for cancer. He played us all these old Hoagy Carmichael records. George had a lot of enthusiasms at various times, whether it was Bulgarian choirs or whatever. Once there was something he was enthusiastic about, he wanted the world to know." - Michael Palin, People

#george harrison #the beatles #monty python #pattie boyd #olivia harrison #dhani harrison #louise harrison #michael palin #eric idle #terry gilliam #the producers #the rutles #gardening #ukulele #hoagy carmichael #quote compilation