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livingemkayde · 9 months

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ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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Hello!!! Could you write a hobie x reader where Miguel is the reader’s dad and he notices hobie and the reader flirting every once in a while and he starts getting suspicious?

HELLOOOO OMG,,, this reminds me of this fic i made between hobie and miguel's adopted spider person kid; i guess this is the honorary part 2 :D HOPING YOU LIKE THIS ANON <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i don't mind if your old man hates me. – hobie brown x spider person!reader

summary: miguel's noticed you and hobie have been a little too close recently; he doesn't like how buddy-buddy you two have been, but hobie does not give a flying fuck about what miguel thinks. in fact, he's helping miguel 'cool off' for a minute before he takes you away with him to wreak some havoc all cutely together. pairing: hobie brown x gn!spider person!reader genre: fluff (kinda silly) word count: 863

"out with it." miguel says after pulling you to the side after he saw you giggling and getting a little too close with that boy, hobie brown, "is there something going on between you two that i should know about?" he asked you with a stern voice as his eyes narrowed at you, his hands on your hips as you raised an eyebrow in confusion. "why, mig, it's nothing to be worried about! hobie and i just get along really well 's'all!" you answered him in a delightful voice as miguel sighed and shook his head. "you know that's not what i mean." he said with a huff as you kicked your feet in the air and spun around in your seat with a grin.

miguel has never been the nosy type, at least not conspicuously the nosy type. when he observes, he tries to make it as low-key as possible. he intervenes when he sees something he doesn't like or has a bad feeling about, such as when he caught hobie walking a little too closely with you, making you smile a lot more than you usually do already, and giving you little pet names.

yeah, there's something up between you two, and he's dead set on figuring out what you two are doing behind the scenes. he showed you footage the security cameras caught where you two were acting all sweet and intimate with each other, and footage from the bug he hid in your mask. "that doesn't seem like you two 'just get along', you're hiding something from me. and you know i hate it when you hide things from me--are you seriously about to laugh right now?" he asked you through gritted teeth as you stifled a laugh, shaking your head and puffing your cheeks up as you smiled.

miguel looked behind him, but your stifled laughter was getting louder. he turned to his left, then his right, then below him; but nothing was there. it soon hit him, there was something above him that was making you laugh during such an important conversation. he looked up, and there, on his head, was the boy you were spending all your time with. "hobieeeeee!" you exclaimed his name happily as you waved at him, with him flashing you a wink back. "hey love, hey old man. you gotta chill out with the sermons, literally." he said as he swung over and grabbed you by the waist, with miguel exclaiming at hobie to bring you back this instant. "i'm trying to have an important conversation with them, get back here!" he exclaimed as you and hobie burst out in laughter as you both ran off.

"i thought you'd never come!" you exclaimed as hobie swung around with you and chuckled. "of course i would, i'd never leave you for him to chew up and swallow--he's a cranky old man anyway who needs to cool his top off." he said as you looked at him with a slight pout of pity. "but he won't ever let me see you again once he finds out what you did!" you said with concern in your tone as hobie chuckled. "well... i don't mind if your old man hates me, if you love me, i'll never stop seeing you. i don't care if your old man wants to fight me, he's gotta know by now you're an independent spider person all on your own, ain'tcha? now, wanna have some real fun?" he asked you as you giggled and clung to him even more, causing his face to heat up and for his smile to widen. "hell yeah!" you exclaimed as you pecked a kiss on his cheek, successfully making this boy melt for you.

miguel felt his veins pop in his head and neck as he thought of how hobie was making you feel way too comfortable, too free. "damn rebellious kids..." he muttered to himself as lyla popped up and smirked. "well, aren't you looking pretty?" she asked him teasingly as miguel raised an eyebrow. "did it just get colder in here?" he asked lyla, who showed him that the temperature remained the same as before. "maybe you got cooler? thank hobie for that, he makes everyone cool. in your case... quite literally." she said as she snapped a few photos of him right then and there. "why are you... fuck!" miguel exclaimed as he finally realized what hobie did as he was questioning you.

that little punk hijacked his suit without him knowing.

"again, love the fit, though... is that peter b's spidey on your shorts or--" "lyla. put the suit back up." miguel said as he shut his eyes and furrowed his brows, with lyla being denied access back to his suit. "yeah, uh, about that... he cut off all my access to your suit. it'll take 72 hours to bring it back up so--" lyla explained, but she was cut off by miguel beating a filing cabinet out of anger.

oh, dear... you really were dating a troublemaker. and the best part was, he'd do all that and more all over again just to be able to have you with him.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #miguel o'hara #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown fluff #spider punk #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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izanyas · 3 months

Text

for the love of fuck stop talking about "dead dove content" if you don't know what "dead dove: do not eat" is actually used for. "dead dove content" doesn't mean anything. "dead dove themes" doesn't mean anything. the only way to use the dead dove tag is to write a fic about, say, two guys stabbing each other, to say "two guys stab each other" in the summary, and tag it as "dead dove: do not eat". "dead dove" in and of itself doesn't have any meaning. i could write a fic abt some guy eating peanuts and summarize it as "some guy eating peanuts" and tag it as "dead dove: do not eat" and that would technically be the right use of the tag as well.

"dead dove: do not eat" is used to say that something you clearly mentioned in summary or tags is present. it's basically a way to tell the reader "you opened that fic with full knowledge of what you would find, so don't complain". "dead dove" doesn't mean "dark content". it's entirely useless to tag a fic with "dead dove" as some kinda general warning for dark themes, without explicitly stating what the content is going to be. you gotta say what the dove is!!!

#i go crazy seeing ppl say theyre ''into dead dove stuff''#that doesn't mean anything! thanks!#it's about as useful as saying ''im into stuff'

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lamnwar · 2 months

Note

Hello! Very specific request. I have a job at a Themepark, basically I work as a Disney princess there (aurora). Its for children to sort of meet their Disney role models, favorite prince/princess. I read them stories, take pictures with them, etc. Could you sort of do a headcanon-esque scenario of how the gom will react to a partner with such a job? Maybe how some of them will be mildly jealous of the assigned prince? This was so embarrasing to type out omg if your uncomfortable with any part of the request/dont wanna do this lmk! No pressure, whatsoever. Love you, stay safe!

Hiiii thanks for the request! 💕 It was such a fun one to write and omggg you gotta be extra pretty to be working as a irl disney princess 😭

SHE'S A PRINCESS // KNB Headcanons

Context: in which you work as a theme park princess and your boyfriend feels some type of way about it

Pairing: GOM x gn! Reader (gender not specified

Warning: fluff, nothing too serious, slightly suggestive but safe for all audiences!

AKASHI

I don't think Akashi really went to theme parks as a kid so he's probably a bit surprised to know that playing a princess there is an actual job

Literally stunned the first time he sees you in costume like, his girl is just so pretty!!!

Would come on regular visit just to see you because my man is obsessed with how gorgeous you are and how well you play the role

The way you show so much grace and you are so nice to all the people that come to you

Would be the kind to take pictures of the public with you because he absolutely gets it, you are a princess

Talking of which, "princess" progressively becomes a new nickname he uses for you

He doesn't mind that you work with another guy as your assigned prince, but if dude tries to make a pass at you, he's as good as dead 💀

Smiles softly as he looks at children coming to you thinking you're the real character

And the way you're just so sweet with these kids aaaahh! my man just falls in love even more from seeing that

MIDORIMA

To Midorima, a job's a job, so he doesn't think much of it

He took some time before visiting you at the park and actually seeing you in costume

This DEFINITELY awakens something in him, trust me

Would obviously not admit to it but he really falls even more when he sees you in your princess get-up

He would occasionally visit you, but to make sure you're doing ok and is not too exhausted

He's such a meticulous guy that he'll sometimes help you out with your costume

Got a crease on your dress? he's on it already! Need someone to curl your hair at the back? he's your man

Not even surprised by the little kids who are convinced that you are a true princess, because you absolutely look the part

But sometimes these kids would get a bit sneaky and ask you if you really love the prince

It's hard to answer that question when you know that your boyfriend is nearby and he can hear you well

But you'll just look at Shintaro while you say "yes, I do love my prince" because thinking of him is the only way you can express genuine love

KISE

That guy could easily steal your job, let's be real

I mean he's just that pretty!! no offense to you but it's just the truth

When he comes and sees you at the park, you better believe people mistake him for a prince

And when they see the both of you together? Yeah, you might as well be a real royal couple

He's your best hype man too, goes around telling everyone that you have to be the best princess of the whole theme park

Doesn't mind the guy who works with you as your assigned prince, since he knows very well that he has nothing on Kise

I mean... he really can't compete

But he might a bit pouty when you play your role a bit too well, acting lovey-dovey with your prince for the public

He gets reassured when you come to him later and give him a kiss on the cheek

Not sure if it's allowed for you to break character like that, but it really doesn't matter if it's for Kise 🤭

AOMINE

Aomine kinda makes fun of your at first when you tell him that your job is to be a (fake) princess

But he's quick to shut his mouth the first time he sees you

Like... damn, that just unlocked a new kink

You're so damn beautiful he goes mad

Obsessed with princess! you

Has beef with a 6 yo once because that kid was looking at you for a bit too long for his taste

It's kinda funny because he's being ridiculous, but still

At first, very much against you having to work with another dude, especially when you have to play pretend a couple

But it doesn't last long because you told him once you're only his and it's enough to switch his mind

Now he brags to these kids that you're actually his

"See that gorgeous princess? Yeah she's in love with me"

"But what about the prince?"

"She loves me more than the prince"

A big PR disaster for the park, btw, but he couldn't care less

The most beautiful princess in the park is his, and he'll never lie about it

MURASAKIBARA

Very intrigued by that job of yours

What do you mean, you get paid to be a princess?

Honestly looking at him, you're confident he can book a job as a pretend royal

His physique is very prince-like, can't say that much about his personality

Anyways!

Comes to the park often so he gets to see you + eat nice snacks!!

Buys you food too when he's here, so you do not starve

Nods in agreement every time a kid points at you all impressed

"Yeah, she's indeed the prettiest"

Plays the game and tells people that you *are* a real princess

Weirdly enough, he gets hungry seeing you in costume

I mean that puffy pastel dress? Girl, you look like a pastry

Doesn't really like you working with a prince

He just doesn't get it! Like, what do you need a prince for? People like the princess more anyway

Even when you tell him it's part of the act, he's pouty about it

It's cute though, in its own way!

#i'm not proud of the fact I started this then forgot to write the rest so it took longer than it should 😭#but anyways! i hope you enjoy it <3 #knb #knb x reader #knb fluff #knb headcanons #knb hcs #akashi fluff #midorima fluff #kise fluff #aomine fluff #murasakibara fluff #akashi x reader #midorima x reader #kise headcanons #aomine x reader #murasakibara x reader

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harrywavycurly · 3 months

Note

I just watched Saltburn and now i need to know how you’d write a conversation with Eddie and Reader as he’s watching it 😳😂👅

Hiii lovey!!! So as someone who loves this movie I will totally give you a conversation between Eddie and Resder as Eddie watches it for the first time!😂 I just know he’d be a changed man after seeing it🙈 so enjoy!!💖

-if you haven’t seen Saltburn and hate spoilers then don’t read this!!✨

“Why is this movie called Saltburn? Is it about getting too much sun?” “Just watch the movie Eddie…” “Damn Felix is fucking tall…Oliver is so…so tiny…is that a pierced eyebrow? I think I’d look good with one of those.” “An eyebrow ring? No…now shush I’m trying to concentrate on how tall Felix is…” “that dude is a dick…his cousin…friend dude..I don’t like him.” “Yeah he’s kinda annoying.” “Jesus I thought my home life was bad…Oliver’s life is just…sad.” “Eddie for the love of god just stop talking.” “The house is called Saltburn?? This movie is named after a…holy fucking shit that’s a castle.” “It’s nice.” “His mom reminds me of Miss Molly down the street.” “Because she talks a lot and agrees with whatever you say?” “Exactly….what…what’s he doing watching Felix in the bath….oh god why is he in the tub? What’s he-” “He’s doing exactly what you think he’s doing.” “He…he literally drank…his bath water that he…good lord baby why are we watching this?” “Just keep an open mind.” “Uhm why is Felix’s sister so-” “don’t you dare say a single bad word about Venetia.” “Sorry…what’s Oliver doing? Why is he…why did he say he’s a vampire?…holy fucking shit! What the fuck? He’s…he’s…yeah okay he’s doing that….whats this movie rated???” “As if you haven’t watched worse?” “God he’s out of control…oh that’s nice they’re gonna throw him a birthday party…” “yeah…” “what’s he doing with Felix’s cousin…what’s his name? Oh shit okay…okay yeah that’s…that’s…okay….” “Yeah…” “Felix talked to Oliver’s mom?….” “Just wait…” “Holy shit! Holy shit! His dad’s alive?? Oh no…oh no no no…Felix isn’t gonna be happy…oh yeah…he’s gotta die now…no fucking way Oliver is talking himself out of this…he’s gonna have to kill him.” “Felix is so tall…and pretty with his little wings.” “What’s with you and his height?” “What? He’s fucking massive you said so yourself.” “I’m getting bad vibe about this party…this isn’t gonna end well.” “We shall see…” “someone’s gonna die in this maze aren’t they?” “Shut up and watch.” “Who are they looking for? Felix? Oh god it’s because he’s dead…i fucking knew it! Oliver killed him! Call the cops it was the dude with the antlers!” “Eddie sit down.” “Who’s next on his list of murder? Is it Felix’s cousin friend?” “You’re so annoying.” “Wait wait…why…why is he taking his shit off…why is he getting naked at this gravesite…what the fuck…why are we watching this? Oh god…not his sister! She was so sad…and…and now she’s dead…” “it’ll be…uh..okay Eddie…” “you’re so full of shit…oh he’s getting kicked out! Good he is bad news for this family.” You can say that again…” “what the fuck are the odds he’s in the same cafe as Felix’s mom?…that’s a damn set up.” “Mhmmm…” “oh my fucking god! Baby! Baby she’s fucking dying??? What did he do to her?…shut the fuck up he took…her breathing tube…holy fucking shit.” “I know…” “he got the house…he got the fucking house?…oh my fucking flying shit sticks it was all a set up!!!!! What!!! He popped his tire?? No way!! I can’t…baby what did we just….why is he naked? He’s dancing…naked…around his house…” “yup…” “oh good we get to see a full frontal…nice…he has their stones? Jesus fucking Christ….I…who am I now? I feel different…” “told you it was good.” “I don’t know if it was good or just so disturbing that we have to just say it was good so we don’t feel weird.” “Felix is so tall.” “Yeah…you keep saying that…did you just sigh? Are you okay over there?” “I’m fine…totally fine.”

#eddie munson au #Eddie Munson conversations #Eddie extras #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson concept #boyfriend!eddie munson #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby #saltburn spoilers

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foreststranger · 9 months

Text

BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: I

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body lol

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. silver wolf and kafka as emotional support

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.9k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ this is based on a dream i had abt him lol anyway i have like 5 diff fics i’m writing and i have only this one finished lmfaooo anyway anyway i also wanted to say sorry for not posting anything in 10 whole days i’ve been a little unmotivated but i’m not gonna be posting for a bit as i’ll be having some family members visiting and unfortunately they speak english and might catch me writing these… HSR x reader fanfics are not something i’d like them to know i write 😍😍 ANYWAY ANYWAY ANYWAY THEY’RE COMING TODAY SO I DECIDED TO CUT THE FIC SHORT MAYBE I’LL CONTINUE IT SOON THOUGH

“Blade, I promise. I’ll always be there to clean you up and take care of you when you’re hurt.”

It feels like years since you made that promise to him. And you regret it. You didn’t know what you were getting into by involving yourself with this man. Blood soaks into your shirt as you look down at him. He’s definitely dead. While you knew of his immortality and regenerative abilities, you can’t help but be a little worried. What if… he doesn’t wake up this time? Blade would certainly want that, but you’re not sure what you’d do without him. His features are soft in the gentle starlight, and he looks… at peace. The only other times you could see him like this were when he was sleeping. After a few more minutes of just admiring him, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Your hands grab him from under his arms, pulling him along the cold ground, huffing as you do so.

“Why did you have to go get yourself killed…” you mutter to yourself. Blade is far too heavy for you to carry, so you’re forced to drag him around instead. Even then, it’s a demanding task. Your home was still around a couple of kilometres (roughly a mile) away. You felt like a murderer, bringing around the bloodied body and leaving trails of blood. How were you meant to go back to your neighbourhood like this? Your clothes and hands soaked in scarlet fluid, a dead man in your arms. Under the cover of night, perhaps no one would notice. You grunt as you hoist Blade up a few steps of stairs. Walking backwards, you don’t realize that you’re about to walk into a wall. Until you bump against it, of course.

You crash down to the floor, a piercing pain attacking your skull. Leaning against the wall, you try to lift Blade onto your lap. The effort of lugging him around and the throbbing pain in your head leave you huffing for air. You wipe your crimson hands on your thighs before hugging Blade against you.

“Do you have to be so reckless, Blade…?” You shut your eyes tight, trying in vain to block out the headache. “How am I meant to take care of you…” You hold him close, your face pressing into his back and his dark raven hair.

“I made a promise to you. So, now… I have to take you back home. Try to make this easy for me, okay?” His familiar scent filling your lungs is almost enough to make you completely forget that he’s a corpse as of now. Blood pools around you, soaking almost every inch of fabric covering you. Is it normal for someone to have this much blood? You can’t even tell where it’s coming from, seeming to just flow out of him.

“I love you…” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on his head. Closing your eyes again, you try to catch your breath before having to drag him off again. When you finally decide to get up, the light of the stars seems to illuminate a path for you, leading the way home. Maybe that’s why they call it Stargazer Navalia.

After a few more minutes of struggling, your pocket buzzes. You’d forgotten that you were keeping Blade’s phone on you. Quickly reaching for the phone, you realize that it could only be one of the Stellaron Hunters.

You put the phone down and breathe out. Both at Silver Wolf’s ridiculousness and in relief that you won’t have to lug around Blade alone anymore. ‘Dear beloved one and only’ is a huge stretch. Though, it was a little nice for her to recognize your… relationship. The Stellaron Hunters were almost like your in-laws, after all.

“Blade? We’re gonna be home soon. Kafka said she’d come help me out.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “I’m so helpless… I can’t even bring you back by myself. At least you’ll be safe soon, though. You’ll be in bed and awake before you know it, Bladie.”

He hated that nickname — saying it reminded him of someone he’d rather not associate with you — but you couldn’t help but call him it sometimes.

Knowing that Kafka is on her way, you decided to settle down for a little and wait for her. But before you can even sit, Blade’s phone vibrates with another notification.

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

#blade honkai #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #blade x you #blade x reader #/e dance3 #grrr i love indulgent self insert fics so much I can’t stop writing them #.forestfics ☆

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augustghosts · 1 year

Text

Useful

Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

Part two of Plastic Trees.

Thank u for the love on part one <3 I’m excited to keep writing this story! I wanted to focus more on tommy and readers' relationship in this so had to get rid of everyone else lmao, anyways. <3

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+! Fingering. Choking. Unprotected PinV. Lots of dirty talk. Kinda dom!tommy. He's a lil rough, but we like him that way, don’t we? Maybe breeding kink if you squint. Slight size kink? Idk I just like to talk about how tall Tommy is. This is like violence from the get go lol. Guns and a few graphic descriptions. Lots of swearing. Lots of pet names, bc i just feel like tommy is the type to use them every other sentence lmao. It gets a little fluffy and awkward at the end. This is also looong as fuck (sorry). Not proofread as always.

Tommy is, rudely, jolted awake by someone aggressively shaking him.

“Dude! Get the fuck up!” An equally aggressive voice hisses beside him. His eyes snap open to a gun pointed right between his eyes. Before he can even process who is on the other side of the weapon, the person holding it is taken down. A loud gunshot rang out from the side of him - Joel. His saviour, of course.

“Come on!” Joel yells.

Tommy shoots up and joins Joel in crouching beside the couch. He doesn’t have time to process what is happening- more shouting and gun shots sound from throughout the house.

“Shit.” Tommy whispers. “I gave my gun to that other asshole.”

He looks around frantically, his eyes landing on the body of the man Joel had just shot. Tommy crawls over and swipes up the gun that had been pointed at him just seconds earlier,

“What the fuck is this?” He asks.

“No fuckin’ clue.” Joel responds. “All i know is we gotta get the fuck out of here. We’re close enough to the door. We can wait for a window- fuck those other guys.”

Tommy nods - he only has one thing on his mind. He looks behind him to the basement door, it’s still closed.

“What about the basement?” He asks as casually as he can.

“Fuck her. I don’t give a shit.” Joel doesn’t even look at him as he responds. “She’s probably the reason they’re here.”

“I don’t think so. These don’t look like the guys who hired us, Joel. Raiders probably.”

“And?” Joel is still scoping out the house. His eyes darted around. “She’s probably dead already. Someone might have already gone down there.”

“So we should go check! We can still get paid!”

“Fuck that.” Joel hisses. The house is suddenly quiet. “Let's go!”

Joel heads to the front door. Tommy is still staring at the basement. Fuck it, he makes a split second decision. The image of the way she looked at him last night and how soft her hands felt flicker through his mind, and his legs almost work on their own as he heads to the door. Whoever had broken into the house is upstairs now, he probably only has a few seconds until they clear up there and come down here.

He storms down the steps, what the fuck is he doing? He thinks about what Joel said - she’s probably dead already. Shit, he hopes not. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and he’s praying that he doesn’t get down there to see something awful. He breathes a sigh of relief when his boots hit the concrete at the bottom and he sees her curled up in the corner. Her knees pulled up to her chest, her head on her knees. She looked adorable.

“Hey! It’s me.” He says. Her head shoots up, her eyes have that fearful look again. The one that got him so fucking hard yesterday. He has to resist hauling her up into his arms.

“What’s happening?” Her voice sounds small.

“Get up.” He spared another look up the stairs and held his hand out to her. “We need to go. Right fucking now.”

She looks between him and his hand, she’s hesitant. Honestly, she feels like she can’t figure him out. Is he really saving her or is he following his brother’s orders again, and taking her out there to kill her. Are the guys that hired her here? Is that where he’s taking her?

“Now!” He practically orders her. His voice was loud and stern. He notices the way her breathing hitches before she reaches out to take his hand. He pulls her up and turns back to the staircase.

“Stay behind me, okay?” He says. She does as she’s told, which he fucking loves. More gunshots that sound too close for comfort have him pausing in his tracks. Tommy jumps as a body collapses at the top of the stairs, she squeaks behind him as blood from the man's head trickles down the stairs.

“Okay, uhm.” He turns to her. “New plan.”

“Could you get yourself through that window?” He asks as his eyes land on the small window in the corner. It’s not tiny, probably small enough for her to fit through.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.” She looks over and nods. He walks over and looks through. The window is high, eye level. The coast looks clear and he hurries to stack some boxes under the window and call her over. “Get through and when you’re outside, wait there. Don’t move.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” She asks frantically, her hands grasping the sleeve of his coat like she had done last night.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go upstairs and I’ll come get you.” He gently pries her hand off of his sleeve. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Fuck, as much as she doesn’t want to do this, as she looks up into his big brow eyes she nods. She trusts him. He nods back and when he realizes he’s still holding her hand he drops it - much to her disappointment. He turns and goes up the stairs, he’s gone before she can even blink.

What the fuck? She’s shocked for a moment, but a loud crash from upstairs springs her into action. She climbs up onto the boxes Tommy had stacked and pushes the old rusty window open. Shit, she really hopes it is Tommy that finds her out here and not anyone else. Once she’s on the other side, she realizes this is the first time she’s been outside in weeks. It’s sunrise and she can’t help but stare at it. The sky looks beautiful. If it was someone else who finds her out here, she wouldn’t mind dying while looking at this.

A pair of gloved hands clamp down on her shoulders and she jumps, whirling around ready to… fight? She doesn’t know how to fucking fight. But she doesn’t need to when she lays her eyes on Tommy. He’s staring at her, thinking about how beautiful she looks outside. He’d only really seen her in the basement, guilt hits him as he thinks about it. He hates how much he wants to kiss her - he’d gotten so close last night.

“Where are we gonna go?” She asks.

He doesn’t know. He stays silent as he looks around - they need to get out of here. He takes her arm and pulls her forward to start walking. She accepts her fate and follows him. Despite their rendezvous last night, she was still scared of him. He had still been an accessory to kidnapping her, she doubts that him coming in her mouth had changed anything.

“So, what did you save me for?”

They’d been walking for a while, Tommy knew where they were heading. An empty house he’d scoped out a few weeks prior. A safe house, if you will. He knew it was safe, his mind was reeling when he heard her voice behind him.

“What?” He doesn’t look behind him. He’s walking much faster than her and he can hear how fast she’s walking to keep up.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me? Or are they meeting you out here?”

“Who?” He asks. He turns slightly, she looks up at his gorgeous side profile.

“The people who hired you. Was that them at the house? What happened to the other guys? Your brother?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs. He doesn’t know which one of her questions he’s answering. Why did he save her? He doesn’t fucking know. He hears her sigh behind him, a small oh leaves her mouth. They keep walking for a while and she keeps quiet. Watching him walk - his broad shoulders and his leather gloves that cling to his large hands. The gun he has slung over his shoulder. She’s thinking about how she’s sure he was going to kiss her last night. She’s sure of it. Remembering how he had caught her above the stairs and how his hand had covered her mouth. He was so confusing, he had touched her last night and saved her this morning- now he was walking ahead acting as if he was burdened by her.

She takes the hint and stays quiet. When they reach the house, it looks the same as all the rest. Run down, plants taken over and growing up the walls. She had always thought that was beautiful. Nature taking things back. Tommy unlatches the rusty gate, kicking some leaves from the overgrown lawn out the way. She follows him in, he turns before they reach the door. He’s looking around - looking for someone following them. Because knowing Joel, he would. He has to use some force to push open the door, his gun is pointed forwards and he walks around the rooms with it - she just watches. He walks around for a while, looking through cupboards and trying to make a small fire in the fireplace. The windows are all boarded up so no one can see the fire, it makes the her feel a little claustrophobic but she’s grateful because it is fucking freezing.

“We’re safe, for now.” He says, swinging the gun off his shoulder and placing it down. “We’re gonna stay here tonight. We’ll get movin’ tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She sits on an old couch. “Where?”

“You ask a lot of fuckin’ questions don’t you?” He says.

“I-i just want to know what’s going on.” Tears fill her eyes, she looks away from him. She is not gonna cry in front of this motherfucker again.

“I know of a place.” Tommy continues. He hates to admit seeing her cry does something too him. The same thing it did to him last night. “A community, I know some people there. Joel is probably making his way there too. Might take us a while to get there though.”

She nods at him. He takes a step towards her, he’s towering over her now. He always does, but the fact that she’s sitting down makes him look even bigger - and her even smaller.

“So, if you want to come with me and if you want me to keep you safe, you’re gonna have to be good. You’re gonna have to trust me. And follow my rules.”

She just nods again, dumbly looking up at him with wide eyes. He steps forward some more, standing directly in front of her now. He lifts his hand to grasp her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. The warm leather of his gloves made her melt into his grasp, his long fingers cupping her jaw.

“Can you do that?” He whispers, his voice gets lower and raspier. “Use your words.” He says when she nods again.

“Yes.” She whispers. “I can be useful.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “How?”

“Whatever you want.” She says. “I’ll follow your rules. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fuck baby.” He utters. His raspy voice makes her stomach swirl and heat spreads between her legs.

“Was I not useful last night?” She asks as she reaches for his belt. “Do you want it again?”

“Help yourself, gorgeous.” He spurs her on. His hand that was cradling her face moves to her hair as she takes his cock out of his jeans. He’s already semi hard just from teasing her, but he suddenly remembers something he had said last night.

Her hands wrap around his length and he sighs as he lets her jerk him off a few times. Her mouth is watering, but before she can lean forward and take him into her mouth his other hand comes down to cradle her head. He tilts her head up to look at him again and says, “You know what? I believe I made you a promise last night.”

“Huh?” She’s confused. The only thing on her mind being his cock and the heat between her thighs - the thighs Tommy cannot wait to get in between .

“We were interrupted yesterday.” He says, using his grip on her face to pull her up to a standing position. “I recall telling you that you deserved to be touched. Since you were so good, and you’ve been very good today.”

He leaned in, their mouths inches away - mirroring their position from last night. Fuck it, she takes one for the team and leans up to press her lips to his. Both of their lips are dry from being outside in the wind all day but neither of them seem to care. Tommy kisses her back with a passion, like it's his last kiss. She moans into his mouth when his tongue pushes between her lips and he thinks he could have come right then and there.

“Jesus darlin’, you sound beautiful.” He pulls away to grip her ass, hauling her up into his arms, her legs wrap around his waist and he presses a kiss to her neck before he sets her down onto the couch. “I wanna hear you making those sounds all damn night.”

He climbs on top of her, kissing her feverishly again. Now he’s started he feels like he can't stop. It's been too long since he'd been kissed like this. Her warm mouth is a delightful contrast to the cold world outside, and as much as he wants to feel that warm mouth wrapped around his cock again he cant help but want to give in to the soft spot he has for her. And so he does. He begins to kiss down her neck, standing up to strip his jacket off begins a trail to her legs.

Even with the fire, the house is too cold to completely strip - so this will have to do. Besides, neither of them want to get caught in here and not be able to escape quickly. As much as he wants to kneel down between her thighs and make her legs shake, he knows he’s going to have to wait. He pulls her jeans down just enough to be able to slip his hand into her underwear. A breathy moan of his name that she lets out, when he reaches her wetness, hits his ear and makes him shiver. She feels it, and she can also feel how hard he is against her thigh.

“You’re already soaked, sweetheart.” He whispers before biting into her earlobe, she moans as he circles her clit. “You’re gonna have to be quiet for me baby. Can you do that?”

She nods as he pushes a single finger inside of her. His finger pauses as he hums a “hm?” into her ear, lifting his head to look into her eyes. He wants her to answer, wants to hear her voice shake. She looks so small under him, caged into the sofa. He wants to fuck her so badly but he loves to tease. He wants to hear how pretty she sounds when she begs.

“Yes!” She sounds breathless, moving her hips to try and get him to do something.

“What do you want? Hm? Ask me.”

“More! Please, Tommy.” She moves her hips again as she speaks.

“Yeah?” He sounds so condescending as he slides a second finger into her and begins to stroke her walls. God hes an asshole, she fucking loves it. He loves it too. He has a huge grin on his face as he builds up a rhythm with his fingers. Watching her reactions closely as she writhes underneath him.

“I want you to come all over my fingers.” He says, his other hand coming up to grip her face - his fingers squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “And then im gonna fuck the shit outta you. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are still moving, they feel so perfect inside of her and she can feel a heat building in her stomach. She reaches up to claw at his arm, he’s confused for a second and almost stops what he's doing, even though he can feel her pussy squeezing around his fingers, before he realizes what she wants.

“Holy shit.” He grins as he moves his hand to grip her throat. Her moans get louder, the sight of her being choked by his hand almost makes him finish in his pants. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty baby. You gonna come for me so i can fuck you?”

“Yes!” She whimpers, “I want you so bad, Tommy.”

The groan he lets out at her words is enough to have her moaning his name as she finishes around his hand, his grip on her throat tightens just enough to make her feel a little lightheaded. She doesn’t remember anyone ever making her feel this good. What a fuck up, the man who kidnapped her in an apocalypse is the one to give her the best orgasm of her life with just his fingers - and he hasn’t even fucked her yet.

“Oh my god, Tommy.” She laughs. He laughs too, it’s beautiful. She almost forgets about the situation they’re in.

“Stand up for me, baby.” He presses one last kiss to her lips before he stands up, she follows - waiting for him to do something. His large hands cradle her waist and maneuvers her so she's standing in front of him. His strong back pressed to her chest, the arm of the couch is in front of her and one of his hands pressed on the small of her back to bend her over the couch.

She can’t believe this is happening right now, neither can he. They're both basically fully clothed, she's bent over a dirty couch in a run down house. The fire is still crackling beside them when he pushes into her without warning. She surges forward, grasping the couch in front of her as she sighs his name.

“So fuckin’ tight, babygirl.” He moans from behind her, hissing through his teeth.

“Please move, Tommy.” She hisses, “You feel so good.”

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you baby.” He sighs as he begins to thrust into her. Her pussy squeezing him is almost too much. It’s been way too long, given that it’s hard to find someone to fuck in the apocalypse. She looks so good bent over in front of him.

“I can’t wait to fuck you properly.” He says, his fingers grip her hips harder as he speeds up his thrusts. “Can’t wait to have you naked in front of me, I’ll fuckin’ worship you, darlin’.”

His words go straight to her pussy, intensifying the fire growing in her stomach. Her hand reaches down to rub her clit, her hand at an awkward angle since her jeans still weren’t pulled all the way down. Just enough for Tommy to be able to fuck her.

“What do you need, baby? Ask for it.” He says when he notices her hand, stopping his movements all together.

“Please don’t stop.” She whines below him. “I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He grinds into her, relishing in the way she whimpers below him. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Please, Tommy!”

He grabs a handful of her hair and tugs, pulling her up so her back is pressed tight to his chest. It completely changes the angle of his cock inside of her and she whimpers his name in a way that makes his cock ache. He wraps his whole arm around her neck and she brings her hands up to grip his bicep.

“Beg for it.” He whispers into her ear.

“Please.” She whispers. Moving her hips to try and get him moving.

“Pathetic.” He says, squeezing his arm tighter around her neck. “You can do better.”

“Please make me cum, Tommy. I need it.” Her voice is strained from the pressure he’s putting on her throat. He thinks she’s never sounded sexier. “I wanna feel you cum. I want you to fill me up, please.”

“Jesus,” He snarls as he begins to slam back into her. “I wish I could, baby. You’d look so sexy with my cum dripping out of you. You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” She cries, “Yes, I'd love it! Please!”

“Don’t worry baby, I've got you. Come on, cum for me.”

She does as he says, as always. And finishes around his cock with a scream of his name. He thrusts into her a few more times and pulls out of her, shoving her forwards into the couch. She doesn’t question him as he slams his hands onto her shoulders and turns her around to roughly shove her to her knees in front of him.

“Open your pretty mouth, baby.” He groans breathlessly, his hand fisting his cock. The sight of him getting himself off with his hand makes a new wave of wetness rush between her thighs. She obediently opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, looking up at him and watching as his brows knit together as he comes. The moan that leaves him is delicious and actually makes her feel proud of herself. His cum lands on her tongue and he pants at the sight before him.

“You look beautiful like this, fuck.” He says. He’s out of breath - now Tommy likes to believe that he has good stamina. But he also believes that the sight before him would be enough to make anyone breathless.

She remembers how he had told her to swallow the night before, and she brings her tongue back into her mouth to let his seed drip down her throat. He’s shocked. And he’s still kind of hard and honestly, he wants to fuck her again. But he remembers the world he’s in, and remembers they will need to get moving in the morning. So he cradles her jaw in his hands and guides her up to her feet. Tilting her head up to kiss her deeply. It’s almost soft, almost loving.

When they pull away neither of them know what to say. They stare into each other's eyes for a second and she almost looks like she wants to say something but Tommy beats her to it.

“So, uhm,” He begins to tuck his cock back into his pants as he speaks. “So, we’ll get moving in the morning. You should get some rest.”

He’s awkward again, her heart breaks as she watches him revert back to the man who had kept her in the basement. The man who had just fucked her slowly fading into the darkness.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” She mumbles, doing the button on her own jeans back up.

“I’ll keep watch for a bit, but uh - we should be fine.” He sits down on the couch, reaching for the gun he had put down and props it up beside him on the couch. He sits back and spreads his thighs as he gets comfy. She doesn’t really know what to do. She kind of just stands and stares at him. He looks at her and stares back for a good few seconds. Why the fuck was this awkward? He sighs and reaches his arm out to her.

“Come here.” He says, a lot softer than she’s ever heard him sound before. She takes the hint and steps timidly towards the couch, sitting down beside him and letting him wrap his arm around her. He guides her head to his shoulder. They sit there for a minute in a comfortable silence. He shocks her, yet again, when he reaches down to pick up her jacket and places it over her body like a blanket. She feels like she has whiplash right now - what the fuck is going on?

“Stop thinking. Go to sleep.” He says, his hand squeezes her shoulder and she cuddles up to him. The same thing is going through Tommy’s head. What the fuck was he doing? He can tell her to stop thinking all he likes, but he can’t stop himself. And that’s what he does for most of the night until he sees the soft light of the day begin to stream through the crack underneath the door - he thinks.

#tommy miller #tommy miller fic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x reader #hbo tommy miller #tommy miller fluff #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tlou smut #smut #fluff #x reader #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x reader #gabriel luna fic

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 1 year

Note

Hello! I just saw your Matriarch post! Can you possibly do a prologue about her backstory and her going to the other dimension with a batfamily and batmom that are still alive and together? And possibly a part 1 where she just walks into the Batcave one night after she sends out an all-call to the bats and the league and once they all start questioning what is going on she comes out and tells them about her backstory and how she'll prevent her future from happening by offing the rogues one by one and saying something like "I'm the only one who could ever succeed in doing this. And do you know why... it's because I know exactly how each and every hero and villain alike think. I know every plan and protocol in place that both sides of the gallery (i.e. meaning the heroic side and villainous side) have in place, how to stop or outsmart them, and every single possible move any of you could make against me. If you think you can stop your wife, mother, friend, or whatever else I am to you, then by all means... I invite you all to play my game, if you can capture me AND discover my plan, then I'll stop for good and go back to my time. But should I be victorious, well, the world and all of you are MINE."

Sorry for it being so long! And for the long monologue!

[Damn, that is good!!]

[Matriarch Au]

Notes.

In this au (Y/N) pretends to be a hero for the public sake. A part-timer of the league in the future.

Bruce doesn't know (but has suspicion) she is killing or torturing almost half of his rouge gallery.

She's afraid that Bruce won't love her become of his no-killing code.

There's technically a "(Y/N)" in this timeline who meets Bruce and falls in love. But, The Matriarch technically killed her before she could meet Bruce.

But here's another question. How does this (Y/N) interact with the Batfamily?

Since (Y/N) knows of each horrible thing that has happened to her children and lover. Batmom is very protective then most other Batmoms.

She still wants to give her children freedom, but also knows that when she did... They were beaten or almost killed for the sake of protecting others.

Batmom decided to mess with this world's timeline so it would be better than her own. But still deliberately decided to let some things stay the same.

1st Example, Dick Grayson. Now depending if Batmom came around before Dicks parents demise is up to you. But in this instance where she did, Batmom would try to save his parents but it doesn't work out.

2nd would be Jason, this is where it gets kinda fucked up.

Batmom is a very caring individual but Matriarch isn't.

Batmom would do whatever she can to make sure Jason will never know of his mother being alive. Batmom will even go out of her way to guilt-trip Jason and emotionally manipulate him. To the point where he doesn't care if his real mother is alive or dead.

But, if Jason does end up curious and decides to find his mother. Aw hell he ain't gonna be free from Batmoms protection. Including Matriarch.

Batmom will get Bruce on her side to not let Jason out of the house or better yet city to look for his mother. It will take a lot of convincing and emotional manipulation part two. Anything regarding Jason's mother or possibly anyone close to bearing resemblance is wiped from the Bat-computer database.

If Jason managed to find a way to convince Batmom or escape Gotham. You are three steps ahead as Batmom or Matriarch.

The only way Jason could even wind up dead is if Batmom was a second too late.

From that point on if that happens, it'll be a much worse for the latter members and friends of the Batfam.

(Y/N) has and will install trackers on everything and anyone. Your always listening, always alert.

You'll put on the facade sure, but the truth of it all is that.. You're no longer just "scared". No you're terrified, to the point you have the smallest threat or villain is your biggest enemy.

[I'll write more for Batmom/Yandere/Villain reader! I swear! If you guys want more let me know, I still gotta describe how Matriarch Au deals with villains.]

[Maybe even write a angst dead dove do not eat fic later hopefully. Thank you for reading!]

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starlightsearches · 1 year

Note

ohgodohgodohgod track 8 with eddie? something with him being like not totally subby but definitely leaning that way with his whimpering and begging etc etc?

Double Feature

Track 8: Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones - Give me a character and a NSFW prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

LOVE LOVE LOVE KINDA SUBBY EDDIE!! Hope I did this request justice, bestie!

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼

Warnings: 18+ only!! Minors dni 😡, grinding, kinda subby eddie, kinda domme reader, language, eddie is NEEDY, and that's all I can think of! Let me know what y'all think my loves!

Eddie's trying to remember the name of the movie.

He's seen it before—a couple of times—something about some babysitters and a pair of tits and a guy with a knife. The tits were the real draw for about half of his watches, back before he at least looked old enough for the guy at the gas station to have plausible deniability when he sold Eddie dirty magazines.

But he's not thinking about dirty magazines. He's not thinking about babysitters or guys with knives or the name of this fucking movie his seen at least twenty times. All he can think about is the way your lips feel against his neck.

And, okay, Eddie put on a scary movie so you'd get all close to him. Of course. He's not a fucking idiot. But he was hoping for some minor-league shit—like your face smushed in his shoulder when the dead guy flopped out of the closet so he could sneak his arm around you and play the big, brave boyfriend type—and you're gunning for the world series.

Kissing so softly with all these barely-there touches. Fingers floating over his ribs, making quiet little moaning noises in his ear. The shift of your hips against his thigh and the way that skirt you're wearing rides up up up, showing off all that pretty skin you've been hiding.

You're gonna have him creaming in his jeans.

Eddie swallows against the trace of your mouth, clearing his throat a little, but his voice still breaks.

"Hey, it's- it's weird that they just like had a mask, you know, at a random hardware store. Do they really carry shit like that?"

You hum—not an answer to his question—pressing a wet kiss to his jaw, tongue between your lips. Hands wandering around his belt and your body warm enough to burn and . . . and your knee just brushes against the zipper of his jeans and the raging hard-on he's been trying to pray away for the last hour.

"Jesus," he whispers under his breath, "you gotta- you gotta stop doing that, baby."

“Why?”

There’s too much false innocence in your voice, breathy and quiet. It just makes him feel like more of a perv. Like the skirt and low-cut top weren't doing enough work in that department.

Eddie groans. “You gonna make me say it?”

Your lips part into a smile against the base of his throat. “I’d like it if you did.”

Fuck that. Of course he will, though.

“I can’t cum in my pants," Eddie admits through gritted teeth and burning cheeks, "I still gotta walk you home." You laugh a little when you pull back, eyes shining and unreadable. Eddie joins in, so obviously nervous for whatever you'll do next. Maybe that was too honest.

Nope. That's not it. Your palm comes down to cup his crotch, and you lean in to his chest until the pressure of your hand pulls a needy grunt from him that Eddie can't keep trapped behind his lips.

"Maybe I don't want to go home, Eddie."

God, it's got him seconds away from bursting—your tits smooshed against his chest and your nipples stiff enough he can feel them through your shirt—but it's the way you say his name that has him breathing so heavy. Has the sticky, wet patch on his boxers growing damp enough you can feel it through his jeans when you brush at the head of his cock with your thumb.

"You- you don't wanna go home?"

He's lagging, body way too attuned to your touch, and it's reduced his conversation skills to zero.

"Nope," you laugh. And then you're on him.

Eddie lets out a wild sound—an honest-to-god moan, loud enough for the neighbors to hear through their shitty tin walls—when your hand comes to cup under his jaw, a little forceful, your thumb digging into his jugular with bite. You press his head back, your lips hovering just out of reach.

He struggles to taste them from behind your hold, full of the same whiny moans he'd poured into his pillow every time he'd tugged at his dick thinking about a moment like this one.

Although he never imagined you on top. And he never thought he'd like it this much.

Eddie swallows, adam's apple jumping under the press of your palm. You gotta feel the way he wants you, the way he shakes like a chihuahua on speed with how bad he needs you to touch him, but he'll use his words.

"Please, baby."

Eddie catches a sliver of a smile on your face before you're kissing him, hot and wet and open-mouthed, your thumb tracing lines over his flushed neck and your hips pressing him into the cushions, rocking with these sharp thrusts that swallow his cock beneath your warm pussy and soft thighs.

It's nothing like the other times you kissed, but Eddie had initiated most of those—soft, silly things on your porch, or leaning over the console in his van. He never thought you'd want something like this. He never would have guessed that you were starving for him, too.

Eddie's hands grip tighter at your hips, keeping you close, pressing a hot, heavy palm against your back and tugging hard at the fabric.

"Fuck, baby," Eddie mumbles against your lips, "gonna, fuck— don't, don't wanna-"

He tries to keep you still, but he can't get a grip, hands totally useless while you grind down on him, merciless. Eddie gulps, wide-eyed and panicked as your tongue traces his jawline, puffy lips pressing softly against his.

"For me?"

Shit. Fuck. You've got him totally pussy-whipped already and he hasn't even seen it, got his dick obeying you like it's yours while he pumps load after load into his sticky, soaked boxers.

He cums loud and hard, muscles spasming and toes curling and your name on his lips. He'd be totally mortified, if you didn't look so fucking pleased.

Eddie's cock throbs uncomfortably, trapped in too-tight denim, his chest pounding, t-shirt damp and so sticky you might be able to see his heart beating if you looked close enough. And you still look like a goddess, perched over him, bracing yourself with your hands at his waist.

The room grows dark, and quiet. The credits are rolling. Eddie comes down to earth, catches his breath. Pets a hot hand over your thigh.

You rest against his chest, fingers twining with his. Eddie'll never get over the way your thumb strokes over the back of his rings.

"So . . . you wanna watch another one?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #my writing #requests #starlightsearches mixtape milestone 📼

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romana-after-dark · 8 months

Text

The Wrong Way (Dark Ending): Going Under, Part 2

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Summery: After you give birth to Ellie in the cabin, Joel fins you and Tommy, besting Tommy in a fight. What happens to you? What happens to Ellie, Tommy, Lorenzo and the rest of the family Little One has acquired? How does Little One learn to cope with her new reality? Does she fall into the darkness that surrounds Joel and all he touches? Can Joel really change for you and your daughter?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING, graphic violence, murder, manipulation, the horrors, Joel being Joel, Tommy being kinda pathetic, Joel's weird sexual fantasies, breeding kink, abuse of power. Just.... all the bad.

Extra on the executions. Suicidal ideation. Sorry, I should've put tjat in the warnings first chapter but I just came up, so this is your warning now. Im tryingto think of all the hardest stuff that happens now so I can warn ahead of time but sometimes it just happens while writing you know? Things come up. Dont say i didnt want you with major character death

a/n who watched Avatar TLA growing up? There a reference to it at the very end.... that episode traumatized me

*******************

It had been four days before Joel came and got you. The room was cold from the cool outside air; it was far from freezing, only a crisp Wyoming early fall so far. This had proven a benefit, despite the way you shivered under tattered blankets, as it aired out the bucket of piss and shit that was your toilet.

Ellie had to be dead by now. Infants need to be fed regularly, every 2-3 hours according to Maura… your breasts hurt, they hurt so fucking bad sometimes you cried from just that… but it wasn’t a hard leap from your depressed mindset. The pain was aching and you had to squeeze the milk out of your engorged breasts just to have a little relief. Your vagina hurt, too. Luckily you had stopped bleeding, although you wished you’d just bleed out already. Everything was pain and your dreams in the few moments you were sleeping were filled with nightmares.

You weren’t sure what you were living for. You laid on the mattress hour after hour, staring at the broken glass from your fit, thinking you could easily kill yourself… The only thing that stopped you was the effort it would require. Dazed, almost… that was the best way to describe it, all the hours blurring together

Honestly, you hadn't expected Joel to return at all. You figured he killed Ellie or just let her starve, killed Tommy and would just let you waste away in this god forsaken room, the room where so much happened.

Tommy taking your virginity after you begged him, playing go fish for hours.

Joel raping you, loving you, cuddling you.

Nick.

When he walked into the room, you didn’t even look up. You didn’t have the energy anymore. When his strong arms scooped you up, leading you out of the piss-smelling room, you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him like before… it had been habit at this point, after a year of doing this and you were no stranger to your body betraying you.

Joel, in turn, held you close. “Just look what you’ve done, hermosa… but it’s okay, we can fix it.”

“No” you whine, head in the crook of his neck. Why was his smell comforting after all that had happened? “We can’t fix this.” Your baby is gone, after all you did to try and save her.

“Yes, yes we can, you just gotta be good.” Of course Joel thought this was fixable. Ellie was only ever his replacement for Sarah, so she was replaceable herself. Joel would put a baby in you again and if it was a boy? Another one. And another, and another until you died, then he’d move onto the next vulnerable young girl.

Joel took you outside. When you saw the raiders all surrounding the yard, a yard that had previously been your comfort, a place you imagined your baby playing, you figured this is where he killed you. You were ready.

“Watch her” And he went into the house. The sunshine and fresh air felt nice, you had to admit. When he returned, he carried a little bundle; the baby blanket Mrs. Munoz knitted, with Ellie’s little face barely peeking out.

“ELLIE!” Joy and sunshine filled your heart again, and suddenly nothing else matter than the fact your daughter lived. Ecstatic, you dash towards her as all the pain of earlier seeming long gone in your desperate need for her, but Joel wouldn’t let you have it just yet. He moved her out from his firm grasp, still holding her but seemingly threatening to drop her. “JOEL NO!”

“She’s safe, little one, don’t you worry… as long as you behave.” He went back to rocking her, a soft expression as he looked at his daughter.

“H-how is she alive? She didn’t feed, I thought- I thought she was dead!”

“You really think I’d let my daughter starve?” His voice was condescending, a slight scoff at the end. “C’mon now, you can’t be that stupid. I know there's not a lot going on in that bimbo housewife brain of yours but I thought you had a little more faith in you than this.” He was… he was laughing at you. All the things he did to you, all the things he’s said… why did this hurt so bad? Joel never called you stupid before… and didn’t he… he threatened to hurt her just a moment ago, didn’t he? Or did he? Maybe you were reading into it too much…

“I’m not… I’m not stupid.” Defensively, you spoke but your eyes remained on your daughter.

“Oh, of course not, sweet girl, of course not.” Was he making fun of you? Why were the other men chuckling? “But I had a plan incase you couldn’t produce milk. I’ve got a freezer full of breast milk from other women, and even some formula. It’s expired but, it’ll do in a pinch.”

As relieved as you were about Ellie living, guilt punched at you. “You… Joel, you took milk away from hungry babies?”

Joel rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. Mrs. Little Feather was producing an abundance so I paid her well for a stash, just in case. I’ll always protect my family” He turned to one of the men and nodded.

Tommy was pushed out the house, hands bound behind him and he was shoved to the ground.

“TOMMY!” But you didn’t dare move, not when Joel had Ellie.

“Honey, fuck, I’m sorry, I-” He was cut off by Joel kicking him in the stomach. Tommy’s left hand was bandaged up from the stabbing.

But Tommy’s reveal wasn’t even the worst. Out of the house came Zach and Lorenzo, bound and gagged, quickly followed by the biggest shock yet. June. It had been a whole year since you’d seen her, never even saying goodbye when you were ripped away from your family. The four of them knelt on the ground, hands tied behind their backs, Lorenzo and Zach at one end of the yard, Tommy and June behind them. Joel shoved you towards Zach and Lorenzo, the guards taking off their mouth gags.

Zach yelled your name. “Run!” But Lorenzo knew better. Lorenzo knew there was no running from Joel, and there was no leaving Ellie behind. You stumble towards them, taking them in your arms. Joel was going to kill them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” You sob, knowing this was because of you.

“Sweetheart.” Lorenzo’s voice called to you, oddly calm given the circumstances. “Sweetheart, look at me.” He waited until you looked him, Lorenzo’s large, brown, droopy eyes calming you the way they always did. “It’s okay. Zach and I… we’ve already made peace with this. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not!” You protest. “He’s gonna kill you both we will have NOTHING!”

Zach. “You’ll have Dolli.” You look to your big brother. “And I know it’s hard, and I know it’s shit right now, honey it’s shit, but you can’t leave her with Joel, okay? So you gotta do this. Think of mom, think of all she did so we could survive.”

A fresh bout of tears. You sniffle, smelling the grass and the dirt and the filth surrounding you. “But I can’t.” You sob violently. You can’t do this without help, you never could.

“You can-”

“I’m not strong!”

Lorenzo. “You’ve already been strong, always. You survived a lifetime of hell and you put up a hell of a fight, again and again. You’re gonna raise Dolly to be strong like you, okay?”

Ellie. Ellie needed you. Nothing else mattered but her. “Her name… her name Ellie. Joel chose Dolly, I chose Ellie June.”

Zach smiled. “Ellie June. I love it.”

“Your goddaughter, Zach.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise. We both will.”

Joel steps up, still holding Ellie close to his chest with his left hand. “Alright, ‘nuff talk’n”

“No, Joel, please!” You desperately cling to your brothers, a feeble attempt to save their lives when you feel yourself being picked up by familiar arms; Tommy wrapped a strong arm around your middle pulling you away. “TOMMY LET ME GO!”

Kicking, screaming, fighting, you try to pull off him but your legs dangle, treading air.

“Joel.” Tommy called to his brother. “Dolly’s ears.” He referenced the baby in his arms as Joel pulled out the gun.

“There’s a silencer.”

Horror and anguish as you cry for your family, Lorenzo and Zach both mouthing that they loved you although you couldn’t hear a sound anymore, except the sharp eeeeee and muffled voices. The panic had set it.

Lorenzo and Zach come closer together, their bound up finger intertwining together. Joel strides up the the couple, covers Ellie’s ears with his hand and chest and-

BANG! BANG!

Zach and Lorenzo’s bodies felt limp to the ground, and you didn’t have it in you to scream any more. You went into shock, freezing up and zoning out, only barely aware of Joel comforting Ellie as she cried; no doubt startled from the shooting and commotion.

Joel spoke to his men, but you weren’t sure what he said… the only thing in your sights was your dead family and he thought that June and Tommy were probably next…wait, when was Tommy untied?

Joel hand grabbed your face and you heard a faint ‘Joel, stop’ but he didn’t. It was the middle of the sentence before you started to understand again. “-are both dead now. Jack is dead, Maura is dead. But her,” He pointed his gun at June, stepping towards her. “She’s alive. Zach tried to take her, thinking it’d save her. Look what good that did huh?”

You couldn’t speak, but Tommy did. “C’mon, man, she’s got nothing to do with this, don’t kill her.”

“Well Thomas, I’m glad you care so much, that’ll make the next part easier.”

“What are you-”

Joel ignored him. “Set her down.” Tommy did. You wobbled a bit but got to your feet, trying to concentrate on behaving… Zach was right, you needed to do this for Ellie. He walked back to you. “See how easily he listens to me? Like a guard dog. Tommy always was good at following orders.” He looked too Tommy again. “Take three steps back.” Tommy did. “Spin around” Tommy rolled his eyes, but did. “Shake you butt”

“Joel-”

“Do it Tommy”

Tommy did, looking humiliated in the process he wiggled his hips.

“Oh come ooooon” Joel laughs. “Put on a show”

“This is humiliating”

“THAT’S THE POINT!”

You wince at the outburst, wanting to hold Ellie so painfully bad… her little nose was getting runny from the cold, even with a little hat on.

Joel raised the gun to Ellie, and Tommy immidietly complied, shouting at him to knock it off. Jaw set tight, Tommy bent over and stuck out his butt, shaking it to the chuckles of the other men. Tommy fucking Miller, Joel’s previous right hand man. Feared leader, reduced to this indignity… You looked over to June, still bound and gagged and on her knees, looking utterly confused.

“Good job, Tommy” Joel turned back to you. “See how easy it was for Tommy to listen to me? Always been like that, following me around like a lost puppy, desperate for my approval… you know why I untied his hands, little one?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Because I need you to know he watched. He watched me kill your brother and Lorenzo, he held you back while he watch. He watched me take you, he watched me fuck you on the table, he watched me brand you, and if he had been here last week he would’ve watched as I hung you.”

The whimper from your mouth at the memory is pathetic, but you keep your mouth shut as your eyes cry.

Joel perked up. It was like a shift, that dramatic change in his personalities that was so hard to keep up with. “So here’s my vision! It’s gonna take a while until we can all trust each other but I want us to all be a family.” He nudged his gun, and one of the men moved to June. Joel must have planned this all out, orchestrated it… He gave the gun to his man, and yanked down June’s gag. It was clear she had been crying heavily, but would not give Joel the dignity of begging for her life. June was strong like that. Sweet, kindhearted; a soft person who was undeniably stubborn. “Beautiful thing, aren’t you. Gonna make such a pretty wife.”

June was too proud to beg, but you’d been long suffering indigities. You had no pride left. “No, no, no, no, no JOEL! Don’t do this, I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Relax, bebita.” He laughed at you. “She’s not for me. You’re the only one for me, you know that right? You gave me my daughter back, you’ll always be my wife, no matter what.”

You were more confused than ever; a cooling breeze rustled your skirt, making you realize just how damn sweaty you’d gotten during all this. “Then what-”

Joel took the collar of June’s shirt, dragging her towards Tommy and throwing her at him as she squeaked in shock. Although he caught her, diving towards her falling body and preventing it from hitting the ground Tommy looked as confused as you did.

“I don’t want-”

“She’s your wife now”

“JOEL!” He held her and June clung to him. “This is insane, I don’t want a wife!”

Uninterested, Joel shrugged him off. “Fuck her, don’t, I don’t really care.” Joel strode towards you again but stopped to look over his shoulder at Tommy. “But knowing you, you probably will. Just a matter of whether you hold her down or not.”

Tommy, for all his weaknesses and flaws… you knew he was not that type of man.

“You and June will live in your old room. She can’t leave the room unsupervised until I say so” He turned to you. “Same with you, little one. But Tommy’s gonna watch you both. Know why?”

Finally, fucking finally, Joel handed you your daughter and you scooped her up, sobbing. “Hey baby, hi. Mommy’s here, yeah, mommy’s here now, it’s okay”

The sun was beginning to set, the shadows of the trees casting long over your dead family. “Because I’m choosing to spare his life, He owes me. And if we can all get along, no more run’n, no more fighting, no more ‘Joel stop!’” he mocked. “Then the 5 of us and whatever other children we’re blessed with can all live together as one big happy family.”

Joel sat you between his legs like you always used to after a bath, Ellie in both your arms as he nursed. “Knew you’d fuck up that room, little one. My brave girl. Always so strong, so resilient. You wanted to get to Dolly, didn’t you?”

“Yes” it was the truth, at least. You couldn’t help but feel comfort in Joel’s arms even now… what was wrong with you? Why were you like this? How had he broken you down this badly? “Just… just wanted to be with her…”

“I understand. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely perfect” and she was, Ellie was everything.

A knock on the door; Joel beckoned them in.

“Watch your fucking eyes.” He snapped at his man bringing you food and water, despite this very man having been there when you were raped in the kitchen… a little breastfeeding wouldn’t had much to the fantasies.

When Ellie was done, fallen quickly asleep, Joel took her and laid her in her crib before doing what you knew was only inevitable.

He laid down beside you, handings trailing you body, muttering about much he missed you, how much he missed your body. “My perfect girl…” In gentle whispers, he spoke praises into your mouth between kisses, hand trailing between your legs. You hated your body for responding to him, you hated the way he made you feel so good and you hated how you would kiss him hours after murdering your brother and friend… But Ellie. Ellie is what mattered. Ellie needed to be safe, she needed her mom, and she needed no more of her family dead. So, you kissed Joel. You kissed Joel the way you had kissed Tommy only earlier this week as he swore to you he’d be the father of the child in that crib. Your life with Tommy crumbled down before you, as did any chance of happiness.

“Joel, I haven't bathed in days…”

“Don’t care, need you”

“Joel it huuurts” You begin to cry, despite knowing that only ever has turned him on more. “Please?” 4 days was not a lot of time to heal, the tearing still evident in you.

Pulling away, Joel looks at you, cupping your face with large, calloused hands. “We need to work together on this, little one. Give a little, get a little. For Dolly.”

Damn him. Damn him and the way he made your stomach burn, damn him and the way his touch felt so good and how you wanted to just be a happy family with him even now… And damn him for knowing how to use Ellie to manipulate you.

“Can we… can we do anal?”

The surprise was evident on his face, bed creaking as he sat up. “You’d prefer to take it in your ass instead of your pussy?”

As you gaze up at him, the concern on his face was clear… oh how he confused you. “I think it would hurt less.”

His features softened as you spoke, laying back down beside you to kiss your neck. “Just focus on my hand right now, sweet girl.” And you did. You did because you were a mess, you were disgusting, you were heartbroken and sad and lonely and you wanted Tommy but you had Joel and he had treated you well didn’t he? Maybe this was survivable… maybe. But you had to please him, and Joel always made you cum. Your pleasure turned him on… so you allowed yourself to sink into the swirling touch of Joel Miller’s fingers.

His touch was gentle but pressing and urgent; patience yet needy, as if making you cum would rebuild the bubble that he had built all those months… and it just might. Your cunt feel empty when it pulses around nothing but you are thankful you are able to get this wet, to orgasm still… The natural lubrication will help with taking his dick up your ass. When the climax was over, you took the chance to relax… it would hurt less if you relaxed.

“Roll over” He ordered, and you did as you were told before Joels straddled your thighs, hands rubbing up and down your mostly-clothes body. “Such a pretty girl… such a perfect girl, and all mine… I don’t care that Tommy fucked this sweet little pussy” Joel reached down to rub your swollen lips. “I don’t care. Once you’re healed up, I’m gonna cum inside you every goddamn day until you give me another baby, gonna fuck a baseball team into you.”

Of course he is. Of course. You wouldn’t expect nothing else from him; he wanted to keep you trapped with him forever… All the love you felt for Ellie was going to multiply tenfold, and you could never, ever leave with that many.

As Joel lined his cock up, swiping it up and down your asscrack and the crease of your thighs, you burry your face in the pillow. Joel wasn’t going to prep you at all, was he? He was going to just fuck you, rip you open and punish you-

“Oh little one… you’ve had a long day, haven't you? Yeah… You’ve been good, I’ll meet you halfway” Joel slid his cock between your plump thighs.

You lift your head off the pillow. “What? What are you doing?”

He began to pump, fucking your thighs and making the bed creak enough you made a mental note to ask Jack to oil it- fuck, Jack was dead, dead because he saw you trying to escape and took you back to Lorenzo. Dead because he went to get Zach to save his life… All of them ended up dead anyway. Jack, Maura, Lorenzo, and my dear brother who had only ever tried to help you. Now June was essentially Tommy’s wife just as you were Joel’s and although you trusted Tommy not to hurt her, she was in a house full of raiders… and Joel.

“Let it out, baby, let it out.” Joel cooed as he thrusted between your legss; one or twice he spit down between them to keep the lubrication going but it wasn’t long before he pulled out, jerking himself as he painted a picture of his cum on your ass and thighs. “Beautiful girl… beautiful.” The cum was like lotion as he rubbed it along you, rubbing your aching muscles… Did he love you? Truly?

When Joel leaves to boil water for the bath, you go to pick up Ellie. You needed her, needed her painfully. You wanted to make up for lost time in those four days she was gone, and away from you; she needed skin to skin, she needed love, she needed her mama’s voice… she needed you.

Joel could hear you from outside the door, peaking through the crack to watch you cuddle his daughter… you were a good mom. You loved Sarah like he did, you cared for her, you wanted the best for her. You just needed to learn, that’s all. Learn that Joel was the only man that mattered, learn that giving Sarah a family with siblings and two loving parents was more important than your own personal feelings. You simple needed to learn that Joel knew what’s best. He’d take care of you, take care of you like he always did; protecting you. He wouldn’t make the mistakes he made with Nick, Tommy, Lorenzo, Jack… Tommy would watch you while he was gone, but he knew Tommy, and Tommy was a simple man. Place a pretty girl in his bed, and it wouldn’t take long before they were fucking, and once Tommy fucked a girl, well… he latched on fast. Probably his mommy issues.

You were so sweet with Dolly, so careful, so attentive… even now, you sang to her and Joel thought this was the only sight he needed to see for the rest of his life: You, freshly fucked and beautiful with Dolly asleep in your arms as you sang.

What Joel didn’t know was your thoughts were consumed by your brother, dead outside with a gunshot in his head. Maybe you could ask him and Lorenzo to be buried together… it was the least you could do for your first protector… your soldier, your guardian who died in vain fighting for your safety after a lifetime of taking your beatings.

“Leaves from the vine

Falling so slow

Like fragile tiny shells

Drifting in the foam

Little soldier boy

Come marching home

Brave soldier boy

Comes marching home”

The bath after sex felt exactly like it always had.

*******************

YEEEEEEEEEEEESH goodbye Zach and Lorenzo!!! my babies! my favorite couple! (im so sorry fen. I murdered your boy!) Also sorry angela buuuuuuuuuutttt you knew this was happening.

Honestly my heart aches for Zach. I have an older brother who was largly my protector in my childhood, my best friend for so long and I love him lots. Thats who zach is based off of for me but i dont wanna give a faceclaim bc I tryyyyyyy to make little one race inclusive (i know i didn't do perfect with the details of her bruisings but it can be hard) If any of my mutuals wanna see a pic Ill show you XD

Remember when I said taylor russle was June's faceclaim? I lied. I saw a picture of Alisha Boe and was like!!!!!! wait no thats her!!!! so now shes on this header.

JUNE AND TOMMY PLOT TWIST what do we think will happen there??? (June is canon bisexual, so dont let her marrying Maura in ghost of you series throw you off. She's the one who told little one all she really knew about sex.)

PLEASE LEMME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND THEORIES!!!! RBS ARE SO IMPORTANT TO SPREAD WORK but I like you know what you guys are thinkig!!! what part was the hardest to read? what are your thoughts on how this goes? One june and tommy? the deaths of jack and maura as well as tommy and lorenzo? Joel suddenly being very condesending to little one and almost like a schoolyard bully to tommy? all this happening while holding ellie?

He kinda reminds me of Joe Goldberg in You lol carrying Henry around with him on his lil stalking trips

@pimosworld @rubyfruitjungle @moriartyyouwhore @k-ra @the-fox-den @jenna-ortega @alwaysmicado @lunar-ghoulie @ladynightingale @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maura-honey @fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fem!reader #the wrong way fic #the wrong way series #tommy miller

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distortionbobble · 2 years

Text

something in the orange (oneshot)

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with frank castle almost twenty years ago. through the bad, through the good, you loved him. you were his best friend, after all. but after his death, and all the things he did as the punisher, you don’t know where you stand. (best friends to lovers)

warnings: minors (under 18) and ageless blogs dni! blasphemy (just a little bit), mentions of child abuse/an abusive parent, oral (f! and m! recieving), p in v, edging kinda? just general smut warnings and maybe a little angst at the end

word count: 12.2k

a/n: i worked on this for a very long time and i’m really really proud of it so i hope you guys enjoy! if you have any recommendations on how i could’ve built their friendship differently or what you wanna see more of lemme know. as always comments and reblogs are so so appreciated. thanks !

“I understand how you’re feeling.”

“No, you don’t,” the boy in front of you spits out. He’s tense, coiled in a way that you recognize all too well because it’s been you before. Aaron, the teenager in front of you, is one that you’ve been working with since he was arrested during a street fight that was unofficially linked to one of the many mafias that poison New York City. The court mandated that he would visit you every week, Friday at 3 PM, right after he gets out of school.

And you swear, you’ve been making progress with him. The first meeting you had with him, he refused to say a damn thing and the two of you sat wordlessly, staring at each other as you played your favorite songs from your little speaker. Every kid is different, you know that. You just gotta give them time to unwind. The first word he’d said was two weeks later, when you asked him how his day was and he responded with a gruff “fine”.

He’s really a gentle kid, even if he won’t acknowledge it. He likes art, likes to talk to you about art. The only reason he’s involved with the mafia is because the rest of his family is. Or was, you suppose. They were killed last Saturday, gunned down by a man who should’ve been dead a hundred times before his actual death.

Frank Castle.

~~~

“I know this is a little unusual, but I believe the circumstance calls for it, my dear. I’m hoping that putting you next to him, and, if you can, having you tutor him, will help his behavior quite a lot. You’re one of my best students, you know.”

Your teacher stared up at you expectantly, tapping her neatly manicured nails on the desk. The sound was jarring and loud, almost overstimulating as you blinked and considered her words.

Normally, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at the request. It’s the most normal thing in the world, putting the troublemaker and the golden student together to encourage compliance.

But Frank Castiglione scared you. Not that you had actually talked to him before, but his reputation preceded him. Hushed voices spoke of bloody knuckles that followed the fights he’d have with anyone that looked at him funny. It didn’t help when he came into class with a split lip and the fury of a starved tiger.

“Please,” Ms. Beck added, gaze still trained on you as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“…Okay.” You were reluctant, but you didn’t feel you had much of a choice. After all, you wanted her to write your recommendation letters for college next year, and if you turned this down, it could jeopardize that. Besides, it was only for an hour a day.

You spun on your heel and marched back to your desk. You forced your back to remain ramrod straight, hiding any trace of fear because if you showed it, Frank would eat you up. You stopped at his desk— your desk too, now— and swung your backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. You were adamant on not looking at him, but you felt his eyes boring a hole into your skull as you focused straight ahead.

Frank scoffed quietly and began to dig his pencil into the desk, carving his initials in jagged lines of graphite in the wood.

“Quit that,” you hissed. He paused, looking at you with his pencil still jammed into the desk. You turned to look at him now. You figured that if you were gonna interact with Frank, you could start off with having a goal for every conversation. The goal for this one was for him to stop fucking up the desks.

He was still staring at you, like he was confused. Confused on why you’d talk to him or why he shouldn’t damage the desks, you couldn’t tell. You ran your fingers across the surface of your own desk before you spoke again.

“Please.” He didn’t move. “Listen, I wouldn’t care if it was your own stuff. If you wanna draw on yourself, I’ve got a Sharpie in my backpack that you are more than welcome to monopolize. But these desks? Paying for them to be fixed, which the district absolutely will make them do, comes right out of the teachers’ paychecks. You don’t have to love Ms. Beck, but you’re better than fucking with her income because you wanna tell the next set of high schoolers that you were in chemistry.”

Frank’s eyes flicked to you before returning to his pencil, and you breathed a small victory exhale when he held out his palm for you to give him a Sharpie.

Ms. Beck spent the hour explaining how to balance equations. You made a mental note to study it all later because for some reason, you just couldn’t focus with Frank next to you.

You had to admit that part of the reason was because he was so damn attractive. His nose was crooked, with just a slight bump on the slope. You weren’t sure why you thought that was so cute, but you did. And his cheekbones, they were so defined. You wanted to know him, the real him that was hidden behind his facade of delinquency. You weren’t sure why you’d never seen it before.

“Hey, Castiglione,” you said right as the bell rang. He looked at you with a shade of irritation coloring his face, but at least he was humoring you. The glare in his gaze was enough to give you pause, but the mantra of recommendation letter running through your head forced you onwards.

“So I was thinking,” you continued, slinging your backpack onto one shoulder then the other as you walked next to him out of the classroom. “I don’t know how great you’re doing in chem, but I could use a study buddy. How about after school? At the library?”

“Okay. And don’t call me Castiglione.” Frank’s voice was gruff, like he hadn’t used it in a while. You hid your smile as you turned and walked to your next class.

~~~

2:30. The second that the minute hand kissed the six on the clock, you jumped out of your seat, grasping your French homework in your hands and stuffing it into your bag to get to the library quicker.

It was raining slightly as you jogged out of the portable to the main building, and you silently wished that it wouldn’t still be raining later when you were to walk home.

You collided into someone roughly as you turned the corner to the library. It sent you backwards, right onto your ass and you looked up to see Frank standing there looking guilty.

“Cast-Frankie, you weren’t planning on pulling a runner on me, were you?” You said with a mock gasp, laughing when his skin flushed and he mumbled out a sorry excuse for an explanation as he held out a hand to help you up.

You couldn’t help but notice how strong he was and how warm his hand was when he did. Frank pulled you flush to his chest, and you were so distracted by him that you didn’t realize you were still holding his hand after you were already up. You only realized you were still holding it when he cleared his throat, and you let go of his hand as if it burned you.

“Can we review, um, the stuff about the valence electrons from the beginning of class? Think I fell asleep that day,” Frank asked shyly.

“Only if you’re cool with me going over the stuff we learned today. I couldn’t focus at all,” you say, settling into one of the chairs at the library and pulling out your chem textbook from your backpack.

“Alright. As for the valence electrons,” you hummed, flipping through your notebook to a month ago, when school had started, “I like to think of the atoms as… sentient. Like they’ve got a goal and they want to do certain things, you know?”

Frank nodded, but you could tell he was unsure where you were going with this.

“Okay. So the goal is for a full valence electron shell. For hydrogen and helium, they both have a valence shell capability of 2 electrons. But for the other ones, they have an outer shell capability of eight. Atoms have a goal to react with things to try and balance out the number of electrons they have so they have a full valence shell. For the ones that are close to their goal, like the halogen family with fluorine, they’ll do anything. They’re desperate to get their goal, to get that full valence shell.”

“They’re slutty.” You snorted loudly at Frank’s words, covering your mouth as you giggled when the librarian angrily shushed you from the other side of the room.

Frank didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a hint of amusement tugging his lips upwards in what seemed like a smile. You didn’t think he knew how to.

You turned back to your books when you realized you’d been staring for longer than you could justify, but you couldn’t subdue the warmth that had risen to your cheeks.

“Okay, ahem, let’s… uh, valence electrons.”

~~~

The sun was set when you and Frank walked side-by-side out of the library. October’s rains were cold on your skin, and you cursed the fact that you’d forgotten a jacket and would have to walk home now.

“Well, I’ll see you…” you began, turning to Frank but he was already gone, “later.”

Your voice dissipated in the onslaught of raindrops and you couldn’t see much except for the glow of the street lights reflecting in the raindrops.

Maybe you’d imagined him, after all.

So you turned away, gripping the straps of your backpack and ignoring the way that the water runs down your back and plasters your clothes to your skin. The dampness of your skin and the cold that it brought made you acutely aware of your heart beating in your chest and you dreaded having to walk home right now.

You didn’t make it far before a truck pulled up beside you. Frank rolled down his window. “Get in,” he uttered. You quickly made it to the passenger side of his truck and threw your backpack onto the floor of the truck, shivering from the aftermath of the outdoors.

“Here,” Frank said, tugging his hoodie over his head and handing it to you. You catch a glimpse of the jagged lightning bolts and symbols that he’d drawn on his arms during class and you smiled internally, accepting the hoodie.

“Thanks,” you murmured. He nodded and stepped on the accelerator.

“Where to?” He asked. The car was silent, but you didn’t mind. The traffic lights above you lit up his face with red and the moment felt soft in your heart.

“Oh, um, it’s just straight on Parsons, and then turn right when you see the Rite Aid.” He hummed in response. “Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I haven’t known you for very long, but you’re not… not scary. Not the way people say you are.” He laughed quietly at your words, like he thought they were funny but you meant it. Frank Castiglione, in the past couple hours you’d known him, had been nothing but quiet, attentive, and kind. Which didn’t match the image he’d built himself in your school. It was like he wanted people to fear him, just so they’d leave him alone.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled. He gripped the steering wheel so tight you could see little abrasions in his knuckles as they turned whiter. “We’re here,” he said, pulling into your street. You muttered a quick thanks as you stooped down to collect your backpack and shifted it onto your lap, moving to pull his sweatshirt over your head before Frank’s hand settled on your shoulder. “You can give it back later, y’know.”

“Oh. Thanks, I’ll wash it and give it to you in school on Monday, ‘kay?” You said, hopping out of his car with a grin. “Should we meet up at yours on the weekend?”

Frank shook his head quickly and you tried to hide the way your smile faltered at his response but you knew he saw. He cleared his throat and looked down at his steering wheel before looking back at you. “Could we- could we do yours instead? Your place, I mean.”

“Yeah, of course. Works great for me, cos then I don’t even have to walk home. We could do that on the weekdays too, if you’re okay with that.” Frank nodded hesitantly, and you smiled back at him before swinging his door shut and running to your front door in the cover of the rain.

By the time you turned to wave goodbye to him, he was already gone.

~~~

“Aaron, it’s okay to grieve. Allow yourself to feel that, to sit with that. It’s not your fault,” you say, but the teenager shakes his head in frustration.

“You don’t get it. You didn’t know them. To you, all my family means is a bunch of criminals that got me involved in the mafia. You never knew the good. You don’t really mean what you’re saying, and I know it,” Aaron says bitingly.

“I’ve met enough people in my lifetime to know that there is good in everyone, even if I personally haven’t experienced it,” you respond coolly. Aaron squeezes his palms together and looks up, like he’s trying to stop the tears from building. You know he hasn’t been given the chance to work through this, to have the chance to grieve because to any mafia, death is just a part of the calling. It’s supposed to be a point of revenge, a source of raw brute strength, not a weakness.

But you don’t want Aaron to just be some kid who is inevitably stuck in the mafia, you want him to know that there’s a different way of thinking. To break free of that cruel machismo persona that is forced onto the young men of Aaron’s community.

You try to get through to him again. “How about you tell me about some of your favorite memories with them?”

Aaron looks at you, then at the paintings on the walls. You notice that it’s raining outside as Aaron swallows and decides what it is he wants to say.

“My, uh, my brothers. They’d come sit in my room when I was doing my homework— they were all older than me. They wanted me to stay far, far away from this stuff, but Dad thought it was better for my future to keep me connected, in a sense.”

Aaron looks up at you. He’s seeking your approval as he breaks it all down, piece by piece, until his grief is out in the open for him to take in all at once. You nod encouragingly, with all the softness and understanding you can muster.

“Yeah. Yeah, they’d come in and sit in my room while I was doing homework, even if they didn’t know what I was doing or studying. Sometimes they’d help me if they could, if I had any questions. They really cared, they really loved me, y’know?”

You nod at him, but your mind is far, far away, decades ago, next to a boy that used to do the same damn thing for you.

~~~

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d left your house for something that wasn’t school.

Even Frank’s study sessions with you, for the past four months, had been cut short. But you could feel yourself growing closer to him, the attraction you felt for him settling into the background as your friendship began to grow. And thankfully, Frank was really starting to get better at chemistry. You weren’t sure why he’d struggled so much before the two of you were studying together, because once he had a little bit of quiet to do the work and study, he didn’t even need you. You’d even wager that he knew the material a little better than you did. You couldn’t complain though, because studying with Frank was the highlight of your day.

It did suck, though, spending the weekends and late nights studying for the SATs. You felt like you were going stir crazy, and the equations scribbled on post-it notes and stuck on your walls only felt like they were starting to enclose on you. There was only so much you could study, anyways.

You bit back a scream and buried your face in your hands, chucking your pen across the room before standing up to pace back and forth. There was that story about the woman from the Victorian era, the one who went mad with the yellow wallpaper. You felt a little like her at that moment. You threw your window open, poking your head out into a crisp wintery evening and breathing deeply. Then you heard a familiar voice call your name out, and you turned to look in disbelief at Frank Castiglione standing in your backyard on frosty grass with a little plastic grocery bag in his hand and looking very, very cold. “What the fuck? Frank, get inside, it’s so cold out there!” You hissed, turning away to find some sort of rope or something to help Frank get in. But he scaled up the tree right next to your bedroom window and inched himself further into your window until he could swing himself into your room.

“Shit, lemme put my shoes on the bag so they don’t make your room dirty,” he muttered. You were still staring at him, gaping at him in total confusion when he turned to you with the biggest grin on his face and a shiny little CD that had your name written, all jagged and crooked, in Sharpie. “Made you a mixtape,” He offered uselessly.

“Frank, what? I have to study!”

“I know, I know. It’s just that you’ve seemed a little bummed out recently and I figured you haven’t been doin’ much outside of studying, cos hey, if you were doin’ it you’d be talking my ear off about it during our study sessions. So I, y’know, assumed. Sorry if I was wrong,” Frank rambled. You noticed he was doing that thing he got when he was nervous about embarrassing himself, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing like a tomato. You hid your smile behind the back of your hand as you marched over to him and took the CD from his grasp.

“Thanks. And I don't talk your ears off, your ears are very happy to hear me talking.” Frank snorted at your words, and you gave him the biggest, most genuine smile you could muster as you began to play the CD. “So, Castiglione.”

“Hate that name.”

“Even if it’s yours?”

“It’s never felt like mine,” he said, sitting himself on the floor next to your bed and resting his head on the mattress behind him.

“Why not?” you asked him, coming to sit next to him and mimicking his position. You could see the little glow in the dark star stickers that you’d put up when you were just a kid, from ages ago, and they still made you smile. You wanted to see Frank smile, you thought to yourself.

He shrugged, eyes trained on the ceiling as the fan spun its blades round. “Reminds me too much of my old man,” he decided after a while. “And I don’t wanna be him. Not ever.”

“What about Castle instead? Sounds kinda similar to Castiglione, so you could get away with getting people at school to adjust to it easy-peasy, but it’s your own name. Frank Castle.”

“I like the sound of that,” Frank said with a laugh, bumping your shoulder with his own before resting his head on yours.

“Alright, Castle. How’d you know I was in dire, desperate need of a break?” You giggled, kicking at his legs just slightly with your own. There was some part of you that needed this, needed to be next to Frank or just connected to him even in the most fleeting of touches.

“Mm. Been stalking you, of course,” he snorted, withdrawing from you just enough to flick your skull with his fingers.

“Shut up. You’re so annoying, y’know.” You didn’t mean it, and he knew that, which is why Frank laughed at your dispassionate dig.

“Was just joking. Knew you’d be up, anyways. You’ve been looking like a raccoon recently, and I know how stressed you get when there’s tests ‘n shit coming up.”

“Thanks, Frankie. How have things been outside of school?” You said, nuzzling your cheek further into Frank’s shoulder. You felt him tense up under you and for a second, you were worried that you’d pushed too far. It wasn’t meant to be malicious, though. You wanted to know that Frank was better than before, even if he smiled more around you and seemed happier overall.

He shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. You know my old man and I aren’t exactly close.” And you wanted to ask what that meant, but you figured it simply wasn’t your place. It didn’t seem like something that Frank wanted to talk about. Not right now, at least.

“My SAT is on Sunday. Two days,” you sighed, getting up from the floor. Frank stayed seated there, and you felt his gaze as he scanned you. You wonder what he saw, if he saw the tension in your back that you felt. Frank could read you like a book. You didn’t know how he did it but he knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“Alright, I guess I’ll head out then,” He said, but you shook your head as you sat down to study and turned around to face him.

“Stay. You can take a nap or something or just chill out—I’ll keep the music playing, I like the songs you put on the CD.” Frank nodded and flopped back onto your bed, and you returned to studying.

At that moment, your mom knocked on your door, calling out your name.

“I’m studying!” You shouted back, hiding a nervous laugh when you looked at Frank on your bed. Your parents would probably kill you if they knew that Frank was here. They loved him, but you weren’t so sure they’d love him in your room after hours.

“Sure. Tell Frank he can use the front door next time. And that we say hi and that he has to go home by eleven, ‘kay?”

“Will do, ma’am!” He called back. Your mother opened the door to look at the two of you and smiled, before she shut the door again.

“I can’t believe she knew you were here. And she didn’t wanna kick you out. How?” You laughed, tossing your pen at him and laughing when it hit him with an oof.

“Beats me,” he shrugged, stretching onto your bed.

You didn’t know why either. But you knew one thing: just having him near you brought you comfort. You didn’t know much, but you knew that you adored being around Frank Castle.

~~~

“What do I do now?” Aaron asks, swiping at the corners of his eyes as he cries. You hand him the box of tissues and he accepts them graciously, dabbing at his tear-stained cheeks.

“Death is a hard thing for anyone to come to terms—”

“No, not just their death,” Aaron interrupts. His voice is so heavy with grief that it hurts to listen to. “Castle’s death, too. I wish I could’ve found him and killed him myself, because I want him to hurt the way I do right now. The hurt that everyone he’s killed felt. And now he’s dead? That feels too easy, ma’am.” There’s that undercurrent of anger, sharp and unrelenting and you know it won’t go away, not for years, not for decades. It’s the kind of anger that you learn to live with, not the kind you let go.

It’s the kind of anger that you still hold for Frank Castle’s father.

You sigh, and rub your shoulders as you lean back. “Aaron,” you say softly. You’re worried that if you go about this wrong, you’ll lose all the progress you’ve made with him thus far. “There are people in this world that die painlessly despite all the hell they’ve put others through. And that kind of death isn’t something you move on from in days, or months. You don’t have to let go of your anger, ever, even if others try to force you to do so. So it’s okay to be angry, and to grieve, and to wish that—” you can’t bring yourself to say Frank’s name, you just can’t— “That the man who murdered your parents suffers a thousand lifetimes.”

“It’s not fair,” he bites out. You nod. “You’re right, it’s not. And it leaves us with no choice but to accept what’s happened, and to try and move on. Even if it hurts, even if some days are worse than others. You take it one day at a time and you hold onto that anger if it helps you keep going, but that’s what matters. Taking it one day at a time.”

Aaron’s gaze meets yours and you know, in the millisecond that he looks at you, really looks at you, that he sees more than you intended to show. He’s perceptive and he knows, somehow, that you hold the same anger he holds. But he doesn’t say anything, just exhales and a little bit of the tension leaves your body.

You don’t say anything. You’ll give Aaron the space he needs until he’s ready.

~~~

Ever since that night, Frank Castle had developed a habit of showing up right after dinner time, sneaking in through your bedroom window even when the door was unlocked. You’d told him that a few times, too, but he favored coming in through your bedroom window for some reason that you just couldn’t piece together.

The snow had fallen and melted, and the flowers had bloomed all in the time that you’d taken to become Frank Castle’s best friend.

You were on the phone with Frank, sitting on your bed with the home phone as your mom prepared dinner.

“So I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” You said.

“Get off the phone, I wanna talk to my boyfriend!” your younger sister whined from across the house.

“I’ll be done soon!” You shouted back. “Frankie?”

“Yeah. I’m lookin’ forward to it, I’m so excited to not have to use my brain for a couple hours.”

“Since when do you use your brain?” You asked jokingly, but as you did, you heard Frank’s parents yelling in the background.

He sighed. “Shit, I gotta go. But I’ll be there, just leave your window open like usual.” Then he cut the line, and you stared at the device in your hand, confused.

“I’m getting on the phone, I don’t care if you’re still talking to your loverboy or not!”

“He’s not my loverboy!”

~~~

You were reading on your bed when you heard the telltale shuffling of leaves and branches that signaled Frank’s arrival.

“Hey MTV, welcome my crib,” you giggled, not bothering to look up from your book when you heard his feet thump into your room. But when Frank was silent, instead of laughing how he usually did, you got up in concern to see him standing there with red-rimmed eyes and an ugly purple bruise on his cheekbone, sniffling quietly as he wiped his eyes with his sleeves.

“Frankie?” You asked, rushing to his side and wrapping your arms around his middle as he cried.

“I- oh, God, I just, give me a— a minute” he stammered out, crying into your shoulder as he sank into your embrace.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” you said, holding him tightly. “You don’t have to talk. I’m here for you.” His shoulders shook and it lit a cold fire inside you, because Frank did not break like this. Frank was a force of fucking nature and to see him shaken like this was like seeing the ocean brought down to its knees. It was wrong. And you’d make whoever hurt him like this pay. They’d see hell at your hands, that much you could promise.

Frank remained with his head tucked into your shoulder long after the strength had left his body and he could cry no longer. But he held onto you still like you were his strength, like he would fall apart if he let go of you.

“Was my dad,” he said finally. Frank’s voice was rough with the force of his sadness, scratchy and thick in his throat. “He found out I skipped church this Sunday and decided that he needed to remind me of everything I’ve ever done to let him down. How I’m not as good as Anthony, never will be. Always the black sheep of the family. He decided to throw me around for good measure, so I fought back. Knocked him out and I came running to you. Like a coward.” He sounded so defeated that you couldn’t help but draw him closer to you, like your arms could protect him from the cruelty of his father.

“You’re no coward. He should never have laid a hand on you, Frankie, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to grab some frozen peas real quick?” Frank shook his head, arms wrapped around your torso and squeezed you a hair tighter.

“No, I can deal with it. He does this a lot.” With that, it all clicks in your head— the rumors of all the fights, the little scars on his knuckles, the split lips he used to sport. It was his father abusing him this whole time. You wanted to crush his father’s windpipe for hurting Frank, and watch the life fade from his eyes. And you wanted to cry, just thinking of all that Frank had endured, but you needed to be strong for him. So you held back your tears, and kissed his head to give him all the love you had.

“Frankie, your father cannot force you to join the priesthood or join the parish or however you say it. Know that no matter what, the choice will stay in your hands. And you’re not the black sheep. Not to me. You’ll never be anything less than your own wonderful, dynamic, caring person. You’re Frank Castle. Your father had no right to use the mistakes you might’ve made when you were younger against you. Plus, everything you’ve done so far is to keep him happy. You're so smart and he just doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see you but I see you and I love you, Frank. You’re my best friend for a reason,” you said softly. Clumsy words tumbled out of your mouth, but you needed Frank to know that his dad’s words were bullshit.

“I’m sorry for coming here like this,” Frank whispered.

“Don’t you dare apologize. Not for this, not to me.”

“Will you distract me?” He asked you, an inkling of hope coloring his tone. You smiled softly against his skin but didn’t let go. He’d been hurt tonight. And for as long as you’d let him, you’d shield him from the world and help him glue back together the pieces of himself with a smile on your face. Frank was your safe place, and you wanted to be his safe place too.

“So, uh, Jake asked me out,” you started, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t really like Jake like that, but he was cute and sweet and you thought maybe you could have a fun date with him. Besides, you couldn’t keep pining after Frank. After months of friendship, you were pretty damn sure he didn’t see you like that and confessing would just ruin what you had.

“Really?” Frank asked, lifting his head up to look at you. There was something you couldn’t quite place on his face, a look that was familiar but not on Frank’s face. You dismissed it and nodded with a soft smile. He was your best friend, he’d be happy for you, right?

“I dunno, he’s nice, I guess. I said yeah, so we’re going to the movies Friday night.”

“Didn’t he take Marcy to junior prom?” Frank asked, rolling himself off of you to rest on his back next to you.

“Yeah, but he’s not into her. He told me that they’re just friends and y’know how it is when everyone in the friend group is going together.”

“Oh,” Frank said blankly. He didn’t look at you, just traced the little stars in your ceiling with his finger and made constellations only he could see.

“Will you help me choose an outfit?” you asked him. You felt like he was mad at you and you hated that. You didn’t mean to sound so desperate but you’re sure Frank could sense it. He always did with you. And there was that part of you that you tried so hard to bury all the time, the part that wanted him to confess to you that he loved you. But he didn’t, so you forced yourself to ignore the way your heart wanted to stop time to sit next to him for all eternity.

“Yeah. You said it’s Sunday, right?” He said. You were sure you imagined the gruffness in his voice just then but the thought vanished entirely from your head when Frank looked at you. His lips were tugged into that lopsided smile that made you feel like your heart was gonna burst from your chest, and how could you think of anything else when you saw him?

For a minute, you want to tell him. Fuck Jake and the movies. The words sit light and sweet on the tip of your tongue, IthinkI’minlovewithyou, but you bite your tongue and wish that now was forever.

~~~

You’d called Frank halfway through your stupid date with Jake.

Jake had taken you to a drive-in movie theater, which had sounded romantic at first but had resulted in you losing your virginity in the backseat to a guy who was too sloppy to even care about whether you felt good or not.

Afterwards, when you were pulling your panties back on under your skirt, he’d flipped down his driver’s side vanity to look at himself and asked you to keep this whole thing “quiet” because he really liked Marcy and was planning on asking her to be his girlfriend.

And then he’d asked you if he should drop you off at home. Your hair was mussed up and lips swollen from his rough (and awful) kissing, so you shook your head and told him you’d just watch the movie from the front seats near the projector.

Instead, you’d walked off to the entrance of the park when Jake had driven away, and called Frank asking him to pick you up.

You saw him now, the lights of his truck a beacon of sanity after what you could safely classify as the worst first date experience you’d ever had.

“You look rough,” Frank called out to you once he was stopped right next to you. You threw open his door and climbed in with a scoff, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands and ruining the already messed-up makeup.

“Frankie,” you whined, tilting your head back to rest on the headrests.

“You got your lip gloss all over your face, dummy,” Frank said after a beat. You tried to wipe it off with the back of your hand and looked at Frank for his approval. He shook his head and brought his hand to your face, swiping the lip gloss from your cheek and under your lips. The tip of his thumb ran across the skin on the bottom of your lower lip, and you swore his eyes were trained on your lips before he withdrew his hand.

God, you wanted it back.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Alright, where to now?” Frank asked you, speeding as he got the two of you out of the park.

“Can we just… drive?” You asked, rifling through Frank’s CD collection before selecting the identical copy of the one he’d made for you seven months ago. “Didn’t realize you had this in your truck. Attaboy, Frankie,” You said to him with a wide grin.

“Attaboy?” He laughed. The stop lights and streetlights were all a blur as he drove, and you felt all of your troubles melting from the warmth that was Frank.

“Fits you, I suppose,” you hummed, lost in the music that you’d listened to so often thanks to Frank’s CD.

“I like that. I’m taking that now,” Frank laughed.

Frank didn’t ask you questions about your bad date until you wanted to talk to him about it. He was sympathetic when you told him, and while he could’ve said I told you so, deservedly, he’d kept it locked up until you said it yourself, and then he laughed at you and agreed. But strangely, you didn’t really care about your bad date, or losing your stupid virginity to a stupid boy. You cared about being in this car with Frank.

You cared about Frank, that’s all.

~~~

A myocardial infarction.

That’s what the doctors had told Frank when his father sat down after dinner with a chest ache and never opened his eyes again.

It seemed too easy to you, too peaceful for someone who had been so abusive in his lifetime. Why did he get it so easy? He didn’t deserve that, he deserved to rot in jail until the taste of sunshine was a forgotten memory to his skin.

Mr. Castiglione’s funeral was a solemn affair. He’d been on the police force, and some of his old coworkers were in attendance at the funeral. Dressed in all black, you wondered what they were mourning. Did they know the outlet of his anger? Did they ignore the concerned calls from the neighbors because they knew whose house it was?

You stayed by Frank’s side the entire time. Your family had been more than understanding, cooking enough to feed Frank’s family too to support the Castigliones in their time of mourning. You knew the bastard didn’t deserve the mourning, but after his father’s death, Frank had been… concerning.

He stood now, above his father’s grave in the rain long after the last bit of dirt had been shoveled on to the grave. When Frank spoke, his voice was gravel and broken glass.

“I kept waiting,” he said. Then he fell silent, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder as he stared blankly at the fresh dirt. You held an umbrella above the two of you, even when your arm ached from the effort of keeping the two of you dry. Mostly to keep Frank dried. That’s what you were concerned with. “Kept waiting for him to be my dad. And it never came. I’m— I’m glad he died. He can’t hurt me anymore, not six feet under.” You looked down to see Frank’s fingers clenching the fabric of his coat. You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded quietly.

Frank fell to his knees with a thud, still staring blankly at the ground. You knelt down to his level, still maintaining the umbrella over his head. You’d keep him safe however you could, you decided. Frank dug into the dirt with his hands, disturbing the grave as it settled and just… held it up to his face. Then he tossed the dirt to the side, disturbing the orderly appearance of the monster’s grave. “Husband, officer, father,” he muttered angrily under his breath. “A failure in all. A failure in life. Husband, officer, failure.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to nod, but you didn’t know if this was a burden that would be more painful to share than to shoulder alone. But you wouldn’t let Frank be lonely. You thought of the bitter man, whose heart had been filled with such poison that it simply gave way. You hoped that his last moments were excruciating, that every nerve was alight with pain and that he regretted every breath he’d taken in his damned life. Wishful thinking.

“He taught me how to shoot a gun,” Frank said. His voice sounded robotic, hollow. You turned your head to face him, and brought your free hand to his cheekbones to collect the teardrops that fell. “Taught me to throw a punch, taught me how to make a bruise go away faster. Everything of violence, everything of hate.” He got to his feet, and you mimicked his actions silently, arm stiff from the weight of the umbrella.

Frank looked at you and silently pushed your arm down. You dropped the umbrella as you looked into his solemn eyes, and Frank took your hand in his own as the rain swallowed the two of you whole. You felt invisible with Frank Castle. The rain washed clear the grief on his face, and he gave a bitter smile before he walked away from his father’s grave with his hand still holding yours.

~~~

“Thanks for listening, ma’am,” Aaron says, shrugging on his jacket as he gets ready to leave your office.

The two of you had spent the hour working through all the good memories Aaron had with his dad and brothers, and though Aaron still carried that unshakable grief on his shoulders, you could tell that it was a little lighter.

“It’s what I’m here for, kiddo.”

He smiles at you before he heads out of your office, and you close the door.

You felt a smidge of guilt deep inside. The little things that Aaron had mentioned today had brought Frank to the forefront of your consciousness, but you knew that wasn’t him anymore. No, Frank had gone from your best friend to murdering people just because they got caught up in the wrong side of things. And it had hurt Aaron, which haunted your thoughts when you saw Frank’s face in your mind.

The last time you’d seen Frank’s face was the mugshot they’d broadcasted on the news. You could still see traces of the old Frank, the one you’d loved as your other half, but it was all fragmented pieces in a man that had lost far too much.

You shake off the thoughts of Frank and try to turn your focus back to your work. Aaron was your last appointment of the day, and you’d done anything else you needed to do on your break between clients.

You spend the next twenty minutes updating Aaron’s files— going through what worked with him, and the initial anger that he showed up with. And when you’re all done with your work, you pack up your things and turn the lights off, ready to walk the five blocks to get to your apartment.

You’ve always liked walking. Tonight, the smog of the city is a little lighter and you feel sharp, alert. You hear thunder clap in the distance as the skies begin to pour down on you but you don’t mind the rain, not tonight. You don’t bother to put on a jacket or grab your umbrella, allowing the rain to drench you. You feel warm still, despite the downpour as you walk home.

~~~

It felt like senior year passed by in a blur.

Frank didn’t like to talk about college applications much, so you really didn’t ask, but it was something that loomed over all of your heads. What would you do after high school? What career did you want to go into? It all seemed so daunting, but there was comfort to be had in knowing that everyone was going through the same dilemma.

Frank’s parents still thought he was gonna become a priest. The two of you had realized that it was safer to let them think that, so he kept his mouth shut and quietly saw the end of his religious career. Frank was too hot-headed to be a priest, anyways. When he saw Jake sometime in the middle of senior year, he’d slammed the other boy into the lockers until you’d tugged the side of his hoodie and muttered to him that it wasn’t worth the hassle.

Jake wasn’t the only boy you’d slept with, anyways. You had slept with some from your high school, and some from others. They all had two things in common: they were all very unsatisfactory, and none of them could make you feel how Frank did.

Frank, on the other hand, was the same as always. He had asked you if you thought Maria was into him once. You’d responded with a firm no, jealousy in your heart and hot on your tongue as you attempted to quell the feeling. You hadn’t been able to look at another boy since he’d asked that question, because in case he felt the way you did, you didn’t want him to go through the pain of seeing you with someone else. You didn’t want to see him with anyone else.

Frank spent almost every day at your house, sneaking in through your window every time. It was almost a running joke in your family, how Frank would “sneak in” even when the front door was unlocked. He was like your counterpart, going where you’d go and even in your loneliest moments, you weren’t alone, because you had Frank.

Time had passed quickly. The only regret you’d had as the year passed was that you hadn’t befriended Frank sooner, because the time you had with him felt altogether insufficient. You’d gotten into a college nearby, where you planned on studying psychology and seeing where that would take you.

Frank still hadn’t told you what he was gonna do after this. You figured he’d continue with whatever his parents would finance, and as much as you hated the thought, you didn’t know what else he could do. All you could do was trust that Frank had it handled, and if he wanted your support you’d be there before he could even finish asking the question.

Frank Castle was your best friend. He was also the person you dreamt of before sleeping, the one you called when you were happy or sad, the first person you’d share anything with, the one you turned to for comfort, the one you wanted to kiss so desperately that it felt like you couldn’t breathe sometimes.

As the school year had wrapped itself up, the two of you found yourselves skipping prom— “it’s stupid anyways, we could just slow dance in a parking lot and have way more fun”-- and getting matching tattoos of your bedroom window to immortalize your friendship. And then you slow danced in a parking lot, stiff and awkward with the bandages of the tattoo still bulky and the pain just barely radiating as you sang some top 30 hit and Frank twirled you around, humming what he could.

You were leaving for college tomorrow. There was an unspoken tension between you and Frank now, now that your date to move out was so close. Of course, he promised to visit and you promised to call every day, but there was something heavier still. You both knew everything was gonna change, and you hated that. Deeply.

Frank was next to you on your bed now, tossing your pillow in the air and singing along to the radio that you’d put on. You thought he had a beautiful singing voice. You knew he’d been playing guitar for a while, but it was rare for him to be singing like this.

“You sound beautiful,” you blurted out, then turned your head to hide the warmth that singed your cheeks from the impulsive compliment.

“Nah,” Frank chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulder and bringing your temple to his lips to press a fleeting kiss to your skin. You wished you could get it tattooed. “You’ve got a pretty voice, though. Sing with me?” He asked, swaying your intertwined bodies softly as he continued to hum. You joined your song with his, a clumsy and intimate chorus for just the two of you as you savored the time you got to spend with Frank. “Attagirl,” he said lowly, looking at you with the shadow of something you saw so often on his face nowadays.

And all the emotions that you’d hidden in your dark bubbled up uncontrollably, maybe because of the warmth of Frank’s arm or the heat of his gaze, but your tongue was clumsy and loose and you felt yourself opening your mouth before you could even think to stop yourself.

“I’m in love with you,” you said abruptly. Frank’s body relaxed against yours as he looked at you in shock, blinking at you as the two of you processed what you had just said.

“What?”

“No, no, fuck, I didn’t mean to tell you that,” you panicked, getting up from your bed and backing away from Frank.

“But you meant it.”

“What?”

“You said you didn’t mean to tell me that. But you meant it.”

“Fuck, Frank, does it matter?” You urged, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyebrows.

“Yes, it does. Are you in love with me?” He asked. Frank’s voice was low, and it made it hard for you to read him. Tears pricked at your eyes as your body internalized the panic you were feeling. You felt frozen but Frank’s proximity forced you to spill out the truth, a frantic yesohgod that you wish you could’ve trapped on your tongue instead.

Frank’s big palms met your jaw softly, holding your face in place as his thumbs ran over your cheekbones. “Now ask me what I feel,” he said.

“What do you feel?” You whispered. Your mind was blank from Frank’s touch, and the only thing you could process was the softness and warmth of his skin against yours.

“I’m in love with you.” He said your name, sweeter than a prayer, and brought his forehead to rest on yours. The tip of his nose just barely pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. “I’m in love with you, and I have been for a very long time. I love you. I love you.”

You whimpered softly and you weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or kiss him. It was almost too much, and the frustration of knowing that he’d loved you this whole time was enough to drive you mad.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes still closed as you soaked in the radiance of being this close to Frank. You felt him nod against you, and that was all the confirmation you needed to press your lips against his. You wished he’d been your first kiss, because all the other boys you’d kissed just couldn’t compare. His lips were soft and hesitant against yours, and your noses collided as you tilted your head to kiss him deeply. You withdrew to catch your breath, and then pecked his lips softly, smiling at him as you guided him to lay down on the bed next to you.

It was familiar, something that you’d done a million times before, and as you brought your lips to Frank’s you couldn’t help but think about how kissing him felt natural. His fingers gripped the hair at the back of your neck as you sat up to keep kissing him, teeth just barely clashing against each other as your tongue met his. You were vaguely aware of how he tasted like cinnamon as you kissed him.

His hands found their way at the hem of your dress, toying with it as the two of you kissed. You paused and pulled it off, leaving you in just your underwear. Frank raised a brow at your state of undress and pulled his own shirt off. The little cross necklace he still wore gleamed in the light of your bedside lamp, and you rubbed it between your forefinger and thumb gently. Frank flicked his brows up as if to say, what now?

You straddled Frank on the edge of your bed and bent to kiss him more. His lips were addictive, molded perfectly to yours, ebbing and flowing against your motions. Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you flush against him, the skin of your chests only separated by the flimsy fabric of your bra. The force at which you kissed him made it hard to breathe but you didn’t want to breathe, you just wanted to kiss him over and over again until he was sick of you.

Frank’s fingers ran up the length of your spine until they rested at the nape of your neck, where he toyed with the clasp of the necklace you wore. It was the one he’d bought you for your eighteenth birthday, and you wondered if he knew that. You placed a kiss on his nose, the one that you adored so much, and let out a soft giggle at Frank’s shocked expression.

“Oh, c’mon. You know how much I adore your nose.”

“It’s big,” he said with a frown, moving his hand to cover it when you pulled it off and kissed the bridge of his nose some more.

“It’s beautiful. I love your nose, Frankie,” you breathed out, kissing his cheeks and his forehead before twisting to kiss his pretty jaw. As you moved from his jaw to his Adam’s apple, he rocked his hips upward to meet your aching center. You both groaned in unison, and your teeth caught on the skin of his throat as your breath hitched in your throat. The fabric of his jeans was rough on your exposed flesh, providing friction as you ground your pelvis onto his bulge.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and you brought your hand up to cover his mouth as you continued to rock back and forth.

“Quiet, Frankie. You don’t want anyone to hear us, baby,” you teased, biting his pecs and dragging your free hand down the expanse of his chest. You traced his v-line with your nails, smiling when you felt him gasp sharply against your hand. “Just tell me how far to go, ‘kay?” you asked, pulling your hand away to kiss his sweet lips.

“How- how far can we go?” He asked, trembling under your hands as you traced the details of his face with your fingers, still grinding on him through layers of clothing.

“D’you want me to show you? I don’t wanna push you too far.” Frank was frozen under you, and you understood what he was feeling. It was hard to think when you were this close to one another. You smiled and pecked his lips, then ran your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breathing pattern changed in response to your motions, and you decided that the sound was addicting. He was addicting.

“Do you want this?” You asked, dragging the tip of your nails on his skin as you tugged his pants down an inch. He whispered a yes and that was all the confirmation you needed to drag the rest of it down, kneeling on the floor next to your bed. You rose and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, his bare skin hot on your lips. Then you bit it, lightly, enjoying the way his pale skin flushed when you nipped at it, and soothed it with kisses. You repeated the process on his other thigh, moving up his legs until you were at the rigid lines of his hips.

Frank had a hell of a v-line. He had a hell of an everything, that was a different matter, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your tongue on the bones, following the curve to where his cock stood. His tip was wet with beads of precum, and you traced under his pink tip with your tongue before wrapping your lips around it. You traced the tip with your tongue, smiling to yourself when Frank’s hips involuntarily jutted up deeper and he groaned. You took Frank’s hand and placed it gently in your hair, where his hands gripped your hair as he tried his hardest to stay still.

It was adorable how gentle he was trying to be. None of the others were like that, but none of the others mattered, did they? So you shifted your focus to Frank, who looked oh-so-pretty as his composure crumbled with his cock in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip before you bobbed your head down, pressing your mouth down on the ridges and veins of his length. It was thick, so much so that it was difficult to take him into your mouth any further, so you replaced your mouth with your hand and licked the base of his cock, working up his shaft.

You worked your hands quickly over his length, hollowing your cheeks around whatever length you could fit in your mouth and rubbing his balls with your hands. Frank let out a choked gasp and you could feel his balls tightening in your hands. You were sure he was close, so you pulled away and ignored the pitiful whine he gave at the loss of your mouth as he neared his climax.

“There’s a condom in my bedside drawer,” you hummed, draping yourself over his bare body. “If you want, we can use it. Only if you want, baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, let’s do that,” he gasped, propping himself up on his elbow and blindly reaching to open your bedside drawer. You reached in and grabbed the little foil wrapper and moved to tear it, but Frank shook his head furiously and pulled your hips forward. “Lemme make you feel good,” he said. Little pinpricks of heat settled at the back of your neck and your breath hitched in your throat. “You don’t have to, y’know,” you said. With all the boys you’d slept with already, not a single one of them had bothered about how you felt, about making you feel good. But Frank did. Of course he did.

He eased your hips to his face, where you hovered right above the heat of his mouth before his hands shot up and pulled you directly onto his mouth. His tongue began to explore your cunt, using just enough pressure to drive you insane as he circled your clit before sliding down to thrust his tongue into your hole. When your breathing shifted, a soft whine threatening to break out of your mouth, Frank did it again until you were stifling your moans with your hand and riding his tongue. Frank alternated between sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue back and forth, leaving you dripping into his mouth from the overwhelming pleasure as he drove you closer to your climax.

The cords of muscle in your thighs drew taut, and you pushed yourself away from Frank’s sweet mouth and grabbed the foil that lay on your comforter, tearing it and easing the latex condom onto his length. “I wanna feel you,” you said, moving to straddle his legs before easing yourself onto his cock. Frank let out a guttural groan when his tip met your warm cunt.

He was warm and the familiar stretch left you breathless as you eased yourself onto Frank’s cock. He was girthier than anyone you’d fucked before, and it took a minute for you to adjust to the sensation, your velvet walls clenching around his member as you took him in deeper. You bounced yourself as you eased yourself down, fucking into him until you were seated with the backs of your thighs pressed against Frank’s hips.

You rose slowly, then bounced your body back down onto him, enjoying how full he made you feel and the way his cock dragged against your g-spot as you rode him. You were slow, at first, but when you sped up and grabbed his hand to press against your belly where you could feel Frank’s cock, he growled and flexed his hips upward.

Then Frank flipped your joined bodies entirely, using one swift motion to lay your body down while he was still in you.

“Is this— is this okay?” He asked, kissing your forehead as he waited, still buried to the hilt inside of you. Your wordless nod was all the confirmation he needed, and he bottomed out of you before driving into you with a punishing force. You intertwined your legs behind his back and drew him in closer, soft moans leaving your mouth as he fucked you. The cross of his necklace dragged from your collarbones up to your mouth as he leaned over to kiss you, and you bit down on the cold metal to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to spill out as you were brought closer and closer, the coil in your belly making your entire body lock up as your face screwed up in pleasure.

Oh. You never understood the hype about sex, finding it to be inadequate every time that you’d been fucked, but it all made sense now. This was what you needed.

Frank brought his hand to your clit as he continued to slide in and out of you, the metal of his necklace warming up as it still sat on your tongue, and the clink of it against your teeth made Frank look down. “Dio,” he swore, flicking his fingers against your nub as you tightened around his cock. You were close, so close that you wanted to sob. “You look beautiful,” Frank stated, and the way he said it, you would’ve thought he was looking at an angel.

You shattered. Your back arched as he drove deeper into you, seeking his own release as you fell apart with him buried inside of you. “Attagirl,” Frank said, and it only intensified your orgasm. You shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars, moaning softly as Frank finished at the same time as you. He began to rise away from your body but you brought your arms to bring him back to you, holding him against you so that you could feel his heart beating against yours. Skin and bones and muscle held skin and bones and muscle, and you felt content.

“Baby, I gotta get up,” he laughed into your skin quietly.

“In a minute,” you murmured, stroking the skin of his back gently. “You were perfect, Frankie,” you assured him. Then you let go of him, and he moved to collect his clothes before grabbing your clothes and putting each one on gently, kissing you after every piece he put back on you.

The sun was beginning to rise as you snuck out to the bathroom to pee, washing up and splashing your face with cool water before you returned to where Frank sat at the edge of your bed. His hands were clasped in silent prayer, and you let him finish before he turned to you and gave a smile full of longing.

“You’ll be gone soon, huh?” Frank asked. You nodded. You didn’t know why you wanted to cry right now, but you did, biting under your lip to hold your composure as you realized that you would have to leave Frank. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he said, getting up to cradle your face with his palms and kissing your forehead. “You’ll always have me in your corner.” You could feel his lips moving against your forehead, and you held his shirt in your hands as you breathed him in silently. “I’m glad we got to spend tonight together.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond so you just nodded, fit tightly with Frank as you waited for the sun to rise, when Frank would inevitably have to go. You were leaving soon after the sun rose, all your clothes already packed in the suitcases lined up at the door.

So when the sky turned to its light grey hue, you kissed Frank goodbye and watched him fade into the day with a feeling in your heart that told you this was far from over.

~~~

You’re being followed.

Have been for the past six blocks. But that’s not new, it’s something that’s been happening for the past three days. For however long Frank Castle’s been believed to be dead. But you had this gut feeling that it wasn’t over, that he wasn’t really dead.

And judging by the man who’s trailing you in the shadows, you’re right.

You reach your apartment complex, and when you’re walking up the stairs, you pause, squinting in the rain to see the shadowy figure.

“Well?” You ask, annoyance lacing your tone. “Are you gonna come in?”

He steps into the light of the streetlight, and you feel like you’re staring at a ghost. Frank Castle’s face shows all that he’s been through, and you feel a pang in your heart just thinking of everything he’s gone through. You don’t hold his gaze, turning to grasp your key and slotting it into the lock, swinging open the door with Frank on your tail.

Hell of a reunion, you think to yourself, snorting in dreary amusement. Frank glances at you, but he doesn’t say anything. He feels more like a shadow than a man, and you pay him no mind. When you’ve unlocked your door and let yourself into your apartment, you head to the kitchen without sparing him a second glance. “What kinda tea do you like?” You call out to him, cracking your neck and setting the kettle to boil.

“Just black tea is fine, thanks,” he responds. You hear him shuffling— likely taking off his rain-soaked jacket— and then a thump as he settles into your living room sofa.

“Can I ask you why you were following me?” You ask. Your hands are gripping the counters tightly, because your head is throbbing with confusion. You don’t know how to act around him anymore, around this man that once meant more than air itself.

“I wanted to make sure you’re safe,” He says stiffly.

“From what?”

“I’ve made a lot of enemies. With the right digging they’d know exactly who was involved in my life, ever. I couldn’t let you pay for my mistakes,” Frank says. His voice is low and you have to strain to hear him over the hiss of the kettle as it finishes boiling. You pour the water into two mugs, attempting to balance them as you make your way to Frank.

When you hand it to him, you finally get the chance to look at him. There’s some stubble from days of growth that sits on his face, making him look weary. You suppose he is, who wouldn’t be? And in his eyes, there’s a hollowness to them. The product of a never ending cycle of loss.

“I was sorry to hear about Maria and your kids,” you decide, setting your mug down on the coffee table and leaning back onto your sofa. “She was always kind to me, and I’m sure your kids were lovely.” You can see the pain flashing on Frank’s face as you bring up a wound that’s still raw, one that’ll probably never heal.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly. The mug looks almost comically small in his large hands, and you almost smile at the sight.

“Where have you been staying?” You ask, draining the last of your tea before getting up to adjust the pillows of your sofa. You have a sneaking suspicion that Frank’s been staying on the streets, and you simply can’t allow that to happen.

“Just, y’know, around,” he says, avoiding your gaze. You shake your head, and head to your linen closet to fetch some clothes.

“Why don’t you go ahead and freshen up? You can stay at my place for as long as you need.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Frank protests.

“I wasn’t asking. You’re going to stay at my place. I’m not letting you stay out on the street, Frank.” Frank. He was never Frank to you, always Frankie. The name feels foreign on your tongue, but you don’t think you can call him Frankie. That’s not him anymore. “So what now, Castle?” You wonder if he notices that you aren’t calling him Frankie. He’s not your Frankie anymore, and there’s a part of you that mourns the loss of your friendship.

“Why?” It makes sense for Frank to be suspicious. He’s been through too much, but there’s still a bitter taste in your mouth when Frank hints at his distrust towards you.

“You were my friend once,” you say quietly, handing him a fresh towel and directing him to the bathroom. “You’ll always mean something to me. Now go shower, it’s been too long since you’ve taken a bath and it’s painfully obvious. Washer’s over there, I’ll toss your stuff in, and it’ll be done in a little.”

The two of you jump into motion and as you hear the shower starting up, you feel the guilt eating you up inside. You shouldn’t be harboring someone that’s caused so much pain. But hasn’t he also suffered? You make up your mind to talk to him, adjusting the sheets on the couch and arranging it so that Frank could sleep here for a night or two.

Frank comes out not long afterwards, steam billowing out from the bathroom with a towel slung low across his hips. You curse yourself for not being able to resist the sight of his bare chest, mind flashing back to the night you two shared as you sit in silence next to him.

“Frank,” you say finally, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” The look on his face is grim. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“I understand what you’re doing with the mafia, and frankly, I don’t really have an issue with you killing them like that. But all you’re doing is fueling the fire.”

“What do you mean by that?” Frank asks hotly. You’ve offended him, great.

“I mean that you have good intentions. But what I’m seeing in my job? Your efforts are only making the next generation of kids feel that vengeance and anger and the mafia is the only outlet they know. I’m saying you gotta refine your targets and take out who actually can influence these things instead of going in blind and killing them based on who they associate with alone. You wanna prove a point? Fine. But you’re better than making things worse just because it’s what you’re used to.”

“And what would you know about me? You gave up on me, gave up on us.” You scoff at Frank’s words.

“Really? Really, Frank? I came home from college two months after I went to college. You hadn’t written me a single letter or called me even once and I thought to myself okay, he’s busy. Then I come home and Maria’s knocked up with a ring on her finger and you’re nowhere to be found. What’s with that, huh?” You sneer. The chime of the dryer lets you know that his clothes are done, but you’re locked in this battle with Frank.

“Because I needed to get out!” He’s nearly shouting now. “I’d expect that you of all people would understand that. And Maria, she was just a mistake at first. Sure, I grew to love her, but her pregnancy was the result of a one night stand and I couldn’t just leave her. I was gonna be a father.”

“I know, Frank. It was all such a mess and I don’t blame you for any of it,” You said, rubbing your temples. “But don’t say I abandoned you. Don’t. I called you, and you never picked up. I was always glad you found happiness but it hurt that you cut me out when you did.”

“I’m sorry,” he acknowledges. But the apology feels hollow, and all you do is nod in response. “I’ll be more careful with who I target. You’re right. I can’t just keep worsening things for my own revenge.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. The two of you sit in silence before Frank moves to get his clothes, and you head to your bedroom door, where you linger before turning to see a fully-dressed Frank.

“I’ll always care for you, Frank, and there will always be a place for you in my home. And when you need a break from fighting, I’ll be here. Just don’t shut me out again, please,” you plead. Frank closes his eyes and nods, and you know he feels the same pain over how things turned out. A future lost to what-ifs.

When you wake up the next morning, there’s not even a trace of Frank, save the flowers he left on the table for you and a note with just the word sorry scribbled on to it. You don’t know when he’ll be back, but you know deep down that he will be back. And you are left certain of two things; you hate him, and you desperately want him to come back.

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