#[ your stare running through me. // frank. ]

[talaok]

Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary:  You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

[pink-petal-horns]

Grizzly Bear

Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just pure sweetness, some swearing because it’s Frank.

Frank Castle was a lot of things. Soldier. Ghost. Walking warpath. And lately?

A damn bear.

The first time you noticed it, he was fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, another one in hand as he ruffled it through his longer-than-usual hair. It was curling at the ends now, thick and dark, dripping onto his shoulders. His beard had grown fuller, too—still neatly shaped, but bordering on wild.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, and something in your brain short-circuited.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said gruffly, not even glancing your way.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, eyes very much not innocent as they roamed his body. “Like you’re a damn lumberjack and I’m about to beg you to chop wood with your bare hands?”

That got his attention. He turned, one brow raised. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re hot,” you countered, completely shameless. “You’re like…a sexy grizzly bear.”

He groaned. Loudly. Dramatically. “Don’t start with that.”

But you did. And you didn’t stop.

You started calling him “Grizzly” when you handed him coffee. You scratched gently at his beard when you were curled up on the couch. You bought him a flannel shirt as a joke and nearly combusted when he actually wore it. He grumbled the whole time, muttered something about “damn woman trying to domesticate me,” but never took it off.

It became a thing.

You’d sneak up behind him while he was working at the table, running your fingers through his hair and whispering, “My big fluffy bear,” until he growled low in his throat—but never told you to stop. He liked it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

And when you brushed his beard after a long day, sitting between his legs on the floor while he leaned back on the couch with half-lidded eyes? That man was putty.

It all came to a head one random Tuesday night.

You walked into the bathroom and caught him in front of the mirror, electric trimmer in hand.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you gasped like he’d committed a crime.

Frank froze, caught red-handed. “It’s gettin’ too long,” he muttered. “Was just gonna clean it up—”

“Clean it up?” You practically lunged forward, snatching the trimmer from his hand. “No! No way. That beard is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

He stared at you, bewildered. “You serious right now?”

“Deadly,” you replied, clutching the trimmer like a weapon. “You do not rob me of the beard. Or the hair. Or the flannel. I need Grizzly Frank in my life.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, chuckling low under his breath. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re lucky I’m insane for you,” you said, tiptoeing up to kiss his jaw—soft and bristly under your lips. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna start making you growl for me.”

That earned a smirk. “Already do, sweetheart.”

You looked at him, touched his cheek gently, and sighed. “You’re beautiful like this. Soft edges. Wild. It suits you. You suit you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked down at you with that unreadable expression that always made your heart stutter. Then, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you slightly as he held you to his chest.

“You’re the only one who sees it,” he murmured into your hair.

“I see everything,” you whispered back. “And I love it all.”

So, he kept the hair. Kept the beard. Kept letting you call him “Grizzly Bear” in public, even though it made him blush behind the gruff act.

And every time you curled up beside him, fingers tangled in that dark, soft beard, he’d nuzzle your cheek and murmur—

“Yours.”

[littlelovelunette]

G!p Sevika cream pieing you, or cumming on your face, tits, back, stomach, mouth. Just alot of cum play hihi

Creamy

Contains Sevika G!P, drug use during sex (?), smut, blowjob, no protection, hair pulling, praising, doggy style, cream pie, cum play, aftercare

Sorry, I got carried away... This is so long...

"Baby, I have an interesting something for you," you said. You and Sevika were both at Last Drop, and you had a little idea for an innocent prank that wasn't all too innocent. You had been down to the market and found chocolates that enhance libido.

You were aware Sevika had a naturally high libido as it was. But what was the fun in just letting it be as it was? You've experimented a lot in the bedroom with her and couples weeks back when she fucked you hard and rough under the influence of Shimmer, even if you did pass out it was amazing.

Today, you had different plans. TABS chocolate. Sevika obviously had no idea was that chocolate even was because let's be real, she doesn't care about chocolates.

"Are you gonna keep staring?" Sevika asked as she looked at you, cards in her mechanical hand as she took a sip of her drink.

"Here," you smiled and gave her a broken piece of the chocolate. Sevika raised a brow at the sight of the chocolate held out by you. "Chocolate? For me?"

You nodded with a smile, Sevika sighed and shook her head. "Whats the catch?"

"There is no catch, I just wanna give it to you because I've had too much already," you lied smoothly.

"Doll, what did I say about you having too many sweets?" Sevika said with a warning tone but despite that put the glass of alcohol down to take the chocolate.

"I'm sorry, I was just having a little craving," you said with a little grin.

You watched with sparkling eyes as she ate the chocolate. Now it was time to wait and watch the magic unravel.

The game continued, but you kept an eye on her. At first, nothing seemed different—Sevika played her cards, drank her whiskey, and exuded that effortless dominance.

But then, after a few minutes, you noticed a shift. The way she adjusted her seat, her tongue running over her teeth in thought. The brief pause before she took a sip of her drink, her fingers flexing against the rim of her glass.

Then, the glance. Subtle at first. A flicker of those sharp, dark eyes toward you. Another sip, slower this time. The way her throat moved as she swallowed.

You hid your grin behind your drink.

Sevika placed her cards down, winning the round with a smirk, then turned toward you, leaning in slightly. Her voice dipped lower, silkier. “That wasn’t just chocolate, was it, bunny?”

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. She finished her drink in one smooth motion and stood, rolling her shoulders. “Cash me out,” she told the dealer before turning to you. “You coming, or are you just going to sit there grinning like an idiot?”

"Mhm, coming," you got up, putting an arm in hers, pressing your tits against her through the thin fabric of your dress.

Sevika felt that, but didn't react. She didn't give you the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Instead, she grabbed the cash and walked with you. Her steps were sharp and long making you have to run beside her to keep up with her pace.

"Don't go so fast!" You complained breathlessly making Sevika chuckle under her breath. "I hope you won't say the same in bed." You huffed a sigh at Sevika's words.

"Strip." Sevika said as you both reached her apartment bedroom. You blushed but complied, taking the straps down of your dress followed closely by your underwear.

You wondered what Sevika would be like under the influence of TABS chocolate although you were sure she was animalistic as it was even without the chocolate. Maybe this would get rougher that you'd anticipate. But to be frank, who'd turn down rough sex if it's with Sevika?

Sevika pushed you to your hands and knees by your hair making you wince, tears already appearing in your eyes from the sudden tug of your hair. You could smell the intoxicating smell for Sevika's cock.

It made your mind go all hazy and mushy, you slowly grabbed onto the shaft at the base. It was already leaking precum and throbbing in your hand. You could tell it was probably so sensitive by now.

"Fuck." Sevika cursed as she made a makeshift ponytail using your hair, holding it using her mechanical hand. "Ready to suck daddy off?" She asked with a smirk and you nodded, staring up at her with puppy eyes.

Sevika didn't miss a beat shoving her huge length down your throat with a new sort of force that made you gag when it hit the back of your throat. Sevika didn't relent, as if you gagging only made her hornier she started pumping her cock in your mouth successfully throat fucking you. You had to grab onto her thighs to steady your balance as you inches closer to her cock.

You couldn't breathe and you didn't want to. Right now all you needed was Sevika's huge veiny dick and you had that settled deep in your throat. You gasped a little as she shot her semen right in your mouth with no warning.

Sevika reached her flesh hand down to your mouth, smearing the cum on your face. "Yeah? Like that? Looking so pretty."

"Mmmph..." You could only let out a small muffled whine with your mouth still so full of cock. Sevika pulled it out slowly letting her shaft slap against your cheek getting your face even more soaked in her semen.

"Swallow." Sevika ordered and you did, swallowing down the thick liquid, "Now open." She held your bottom lip by her thumb of her flesh hand, opening your mouth up to check whether you've swallowed all of her cum. "Good girl."

Sevika picked you up with ease and laid you down on your back flat. She looked down at your clean shaven pussy, "Looks like someone prepared good." She taunted and you blushed looking away. Sevika didn't mind if you kept your pubic hair trimmed, shaven or waxed. It didn't matter to her.

Sevika pulled your legs open and thrusted her huge length inside breaking you out of your thoughts. "Oh my gosh!" You screamed and let out a loud moan.

Sevika laughed at the sight of you so surprised at the sheer length of her hard dick and started thrusting deep making the tip kiss your cervix with each powerful thrust.

It wasn't long until you were crying and babbling for her to stop but Sevika was nowhere done with you. Her cock continued to thrust in your raw, sore pussy as her thumb rubbed and pinched your clit making you buckle your hips at whatever contact your poor swollen clitoris got. Sevika's thrusts started getting sloppy. "I'm gonna fill this tight cunt up. Knock you up." She said through her heavy breaths and pants before she shot her loud in your tight cunt making you close your eyes in bliss.

"Daddy's cum..." You babbled mindlessly and Sevika grabbed a hold of your perky nipples, pulling them with a laugh. "D-daddy n-no not so rough please..."

"You like daddy's cum, don't you?" Sevika pulled her cock out and made you get on your hands and knees on the bed so she could pound you from behind. Sevika shoved her cock inside making your breath hitch, the new position making you feel tighter and her cock bigger.

"Fucking tight pussy." Sevika cursed out under her breath before she bit her bottom lip and started thrusting hard into your pussy making you clench onto her desperately trying to keep her warm, huge length tucked deep inside.

Hours passed and you both have been fucking like rabbits. You can't get enough of Sevika's semen. Your body was drenched in it by now and so were the sheets. You didn't care whether you got to cum or not but you needed Sevika's semen all over yourself for some reason. You just needed it. Needed it so badly.

"Daddy, can't, anymore," you managed to let out broken words as Sevika let go of your body, cumming the last time on your stomach and tits, a little on your face too. "Yeah? You're all spent?" You nodded weakly at her question. "C'mon then."

Sevika helped you up with ease and took her mechanical arm off, letting it rest on the bedside table so she could join you in a hot shower. It wasn't a problem, usually, her having her mech arm on during the shower but Sevika preferred to shower without it.

She helped you inside the shower room, settling you on the bathroom counter as she took out the shampoo and shower jel out of the cabinet. She took the tanktop she had on through the whole time with one hand, with practised ease.

You got off the counter, a little imprint of your ass left on the counter... Due to the semen.

Sevika saw it, smirking a little, she grabbed your ass tightly with her flesh hand and kissed you against the shower wall. You kissed her back, slowly turning the shower tap on using one hand, letting the water cascade down on the both of you while you both continued kissing.

"I guess we can tick off kissing under the rain." Sevika joked making you laugh a little. It was rare when she joked about something which actually seemed funny to you. Other than stupid, silly dad jokes. But you liked it in here now.

In Sevika's... Well, arm, right now.

[kilojulietsierra]

It Means Family (Dr. Jack Abbot x FemNurse!Reader) Oneshot

Based on this request from @pear-1206 : Jack Abbot x fem reader. She had a younger brother (you can give him a name if you want) who is a bit skeptical toward Jack since he's very protective of her. She had been his guardian since their parents died and he was practically being raised at the Pitt by everyone. Jack is friends with her and helps her with everything until their feelings change toward each other. He accepted Jack as his sister's bf but still held his opinion because he didn't want to see her hurt. After some time, Jack knew that he wanted to marry her and wanted her brother's permission. Maybe a series of attempts of Jack trying to gain it and the boy just messing up with him😆😆. Maybe after he's given it, she asks her brother to handoff her at her wedding. Maybe you can do it in two parts or just a long one shot. Either way, it's up to you. Suggestive, friend to lovers, kisses, etc. Ask me if anything. Tag me later!!! Thanks!!! :))? (I hope I did okay!)

~~~~~~

He had been there the night you got the call.

You wouldn't even have answered it, it had been a crazy night, but after the fifth time your phone vibrated in your pocket you got a sick feeling in your stomach.

You had dropped to the floor in the middle of the ED, your vision blurred, heart rate pounding in your ears. Blurred images of Lena and Ellis running your way, then Jack appeared.

Through your blurry vision and ringing ears you could almost see him, almost hear him saying your name. "Tell me what's wrong."

"They're gone..." It didn't sound like you talking, more like an echo, someone elses voice. "They're gone."

Then it was bereavement leave, a long flight to Honolulu, two coffins, a twenty one gun salute and a folded flag. A house on base you had 48 hours to pack up and clear out. A kid brother well over a decade younger than you that just had the whole world fall out from under him.

Night shift changed to day shift, late nights out with friends changed to school drop offs. Everything changed.

If you had worked anywhere else you weren't sure you would have made it through the first year. Lena, Dana, Bridget and Perlah, every one of them a Godsend. Without them, without Robby, and Cassie, Mateo, Princess, Frank and his wife, without them you would have drown under the weight of all of it.

You had loved night shift, but there was no way to keep that schedule and take care of your brother. You loved Robby, he was a great attending to work with, a great chief, but he wasn't Jack.

It didn't take long for you to start finding reasons to show up early if you could, or stay a little late, just to be on Jacks shift even for a few minutes. He never made a big deal about it, but he did always take the time to check in. If you were okay, if Marcus was doing ok, if you needed anything. "If either of you need anything, don't ever hesitate to ask. Okay?" There was no doubt in your mind that he meant it.

~~~~~~

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah bud, it hurt. Still does some days." Jack had his pantleg pulled up and Marcus was staring intently at the titanium and fiberglass that made up Jack's prosthesis.

"Marcus!" You hissed at him across the counter.

"He's fine." Jack had turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile, "Just curious. Nothing wrong with that."

"Sissy, have you seen Dr Jacks fake leg?" Your little brother looked up at you from his seat on the floor, eyes wide.

You had to try not to flush from the embarrassment, "Yeah Marc, I've seen it. It's called a prosthesis though, not a fake leg. Okay?"

Your brother nodded, fumbled over the word, "Prosthesis." He nodded again, "Can I touch it."

"Marcus!" You thought you'd drop dead.

Jack just busted out in a laugh.

"Go grab your stuff out of the breakroom, please." You pointed towards the door, "We need to go." Once Marcus was gone you through a pleading look at Jack, "Dr Aboot, I am so sorry."

He stood up, shook his head with a smile, "Don't be, he's fine. Just wants to know how stuff works is all."

You gave him an apologetic smile and changed the subject, "How's night shift been?"

"We get by, not the same without you though."

"Oh I'm sure." You laughed it off but it spiked your heart rate none the less.

~~~~~

It had felt silly at first. The little crush you had always harbored for Dr. Abbot. Not in any gross or even serious way really. Just... appreciation.

You thought that it would fade after everything and with the switch to days, but instead it seemed to have magnified it. Every moment no matter how brief now had your stomach spinning and your heart racing. You lived for the little moments between shifts and had finally started to admit to yourself that you had started to seek them out. Not just to visit, to catch up with your old team mates, but because it felt good. Exilerhating.

That particular night though, you hadn't meant to see Jack. Honestly you hadn't wanted to see anyone. You had parked yourself on a bench outside the ER, grateful at first that Dana had let you slip out a little early. Then the heaviness had settled over you.

Abbot had seen you, stood and watched for a moment from the ambulance bay before heading towards you. He approached cautiously and his voice was soft, "Hey, everything okay?"

Your stomach dropped. Embarrasment, guilt, something else. "Yeah, yeah, just... needed a minute I guess."

He stared at you. Nothing new. Then he glanced at his watch and the hospital then back to you. His bag thudded on the sidewalk and he groaned softly as he settled into the bench beside you. "Want to try that again? More convincing this time?"

The laugh tasted sour, "Everything's totally fine!" You hadn't realized you had felt like crying until just then.

Jack nodded, a slim smirk at your attempt. "Where's Marcus?"

"Perlah's mom picked him up and took them over for a sleepover."

He nodded again, "That's good. Boys'll have fun."

You nodded in return and swiped at your eyes. "He talked about it all night last night, all morning."

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and turned to try and catch your eye. "So, want to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't..." You choked out another laugh, "I would if I knew. I don't even know. How stupid is that? I just feel..."

"Exhausted? Alone? Like maybe you don't want to go home to an empty house?"

You turned to look at him so fast it made him chuckle.

"I recognize that look. I know it well."

"How stupid is that?"

"Not at all."

You were both quiet for a long moment before you added, "I don't know how I ended up here. I don't know what I'm doing. I just..."

"You're doing great. Marcus is a good kid. Just need to take care of yourself too." Jack finished for you with an encouraging grin. "Go home and enjoy your night off. Drink too much, watch trashy TV, stay up late." He smiled a little wider at your chuckle. "Or go do something, go out while you have the chance."

You laughed again, harsh and still a little rough, "Go out? You're funny."

Jack grinned a little wider, "Well then go home, enjoy your night off." He stood up and grabbed his bag and then grabbed yours too. He held it out to you and used your grip on the bag to pull you to your feet. Once you finally looked him in the eye, still fighting back the tears, his smile softened slgihtly. There was something else behind it though.

"Next time you have the night to yourself, I'll take you out."

The expression on his face never changed, he just held your gaze, nodded after a moment and then gave you a quick wink before turning away and heading into the ED.

For several long moments you stood there, watching Dr Abbot walk across the street, totally taken off guard.

~~~~~

Before dinner with Jack you thought were going to have a panic attack. You'd paced your apartment, made Marcus and the sitter both stare at you oddly, came up with a dozen excuses to cancel. You only came up with one reason to follow through though; you really, really wanted to.

After dinner with Jack you couldn't even begin to remember any of the reasons you had panicked. When he stopped you a few feet short of your door and pulled you into a kiss you thought you were going to pass out. Your head spun so fast all you could do was hold onto him and hope he could keep you on your feet. Of course he did, strong arms holding you close and keeping you steady. He chuckled against your lips when a little moan escaped and you flushed with embarrassment as he pulled away to look at you.

"Not gonna lie, I've wanted to do that for a long time." He cracked a smile and studied your face as his hands smoothed over your waist.

When you could think straight you nodded, eyes stuck on his lips, "You should have done it sooner."

Jack chuckled again as he settled his lips back over yours and walked you the last few feet to your door. "I'll make it up to you, if you let me."

You moaned again and your grip on his shoulders tightened. You glanced over your shoulder at the door, conflicted, but Jack grabbed your chin and pulled you back to look at him.

He gave you a quick kiss and shook his head, "Not tonight hon." Another longer kiss, and he kept his voice low, "He's gonna have a bunch of questions if I walk in there right now."

"He always has a bunch of questions." You laugh and lean your forehead against his shoulder.

Jack wraps his arms around you fully and chuckles, breath warm against your ear. "Yes he does." He dropped a kiss there, and then selfishly dropped a longer, heated one against the side of your neck. Not pulling away until you shivered and pushed him back. Eye to eye again he gave you that look, the one you knew and loved so well, "We'll figure it out."

You nodded, smiling, heart racing, "Yeah we will."

~~~~~

"How old are you?"

"So old."

"Have you seen Lilo & Stitch?"

"I have not."

"Would you let me have a pet alien?"

"That would depend on the alien I guess."

"We lived in Hawaii. Have you been to Hawaii?"

"Once, while I was in the Army. I've even been to the base your Dad was stationed out of."

"Did you see his boat!?"

"I'm not sure, bud."

"Are you missing any other body parts?"

"Just the leg?"

"Are you a vampire?"

"Would I be out in the middle of the day if I was?"

"Can you make cheeseburgers?"

"Awesome cheeseburgers."

"Have you ever had an actual girlfriend before?"

"Yeah bud, I've had a girlfriend before."

"Have you and Sissy kissed?"

"Yes, your sister and I have kissed. More than once."

"Was it gross?"

"Not even a little bit." Jack was enjoying himself way too much as Marcus bombarded him with questions from the backseat of the truck. More specifically Jack was enjoying the way you were slumped against the window hiding your face in your hand trying not to laugh or cry.

"Marcus, I think that's enough questions." You gave Jack a pleading look, silently begging him to shut it down.

"Dr. Jack said I could ask anything I wanted."

Jack smirked at you, eyes hiding behind dark sunglasses, but you knew they were shining with glee at your suffering. "He's right, that's what I said."

"Are you going to make me eat vegetables?"

"Does Sissy make you eat vegetables?"

"Yes." Marcus mumbled.

"Then yes, I'm gonna make you eat your vegetables." Jack reached across the console and grabbed your hand. He gave it squeeze when you finally looked his way you couldn't help but smile. Jack looked over his shoulder at your little brother, "So, when do I get to start asking questions?"

"That's not fair!"

"Oh yes it is and I think it's miy turn."

~

Jack was sitting at your kitchen counter watching you make a cup of coffee, still half asleep. "What's Marcus up to today?"

You sipped the coffee while it was still hot enough to burn, "Perlah took the boys to some action park thing they just built on her end of town, gokarts, mini golf, all that."

"Should be fun. What's that gonna cost you?" Jack smirked, content to watch you wake up and sip your coffee.

"Five shifts in a row. So, they can take a long weekend." You pushed off the counter and came around like you were going to sit in the stool next to Jack.

Instead he grabbed you gently by the hips and pulled you to him, settling you between his legs with his arms around you. "You sure you don't want me to leave you alone? You can just relax today if you need to."

You let out a grumble, the meaning of it not entirely clear, but the way your weight sunk into him Jack took it to mean he should stay right where he was. It feels good to hold you like this. Head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck, and all of your weight against him with no doubt he would hold you up. "Don't know why I'm so tired," You mumbled into his neck, "Feel like I'm the one that worked last night."

Jack squeezed you tighter, "Why don't you go lay down? No reason you can't be lazy for awhile."

You grumble again, your coffee cup gets set on the counter and then you quietly ask, "Come lay down with me?"

For a second Jack froze, a dozen thoughts racing through his mind. He moved his hands back to your hips and just as quietly he whispered into your hair, "Can do that if you want." He dropped a kiss on the crown of your head and had to bite back a smile when you nodded against his shoulder. "Okay, c'mon."

Before you could stand up straight Jack had a hold of the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up to carry you down the hall. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tight and he was pleasantly surprised when you didn't act surprised, didn't argue or give him a hard time. Just let him carry you to bed.

~~~~~

A few hours later you woke up, warm and comfortable, one of Jacks arms under your head like a pillow and the other wrapped around your middle. When you sighed and shifted deeper into his hold, the arm around you tightened and you felt him press a kiss to the back of your head.

"What time is Marcus going to be back?" He sounded like maybe he had nodded off for a bit as well, his voice rough and raw.

"After lunch sometime. Sent them money for pizza." You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. Didn't want to do anything that meant you would have to get out of bed yet. Not when Jack was there with you, finally.

He nuzzled into the back of your hair and kissed you again, "Ready to get up?"

You shook your head and shuffled back, just a little closer to Jack, eyes still closed. "Aren't you normally asleep by now?"

Jack just hummed, spread his one hand wide over your torso, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt. "Took a nice nap." His breath was warm and suddenly directly beside your ear. When you shivered and moved to shift your hips back, his hand moved from your stomach to your hip and clamped down, stopping you. "Stay right there." His grip softened, but his hand stayed put.

In an instant your heart began to race, "Why?"

"Because we're cuddling, and it's nice."

You bit your lip, hearing Dr Jack Abbot say 'cuddle' nearly making you giggle. "Feels good."

Behind you Jack chuckled, something a little extra behind it. "Yeah it does." He chuckled again when you tried to move, "Hon, I said stay there."

When the thought finally occurred to you you chuckled with him, "Dr. Abbot, is something wrong?" "

Jesus." His hand on your hip squeezed harder than he'd ever gripped you, "Yes and that's not fucking helping." Jack let out a painful groan when you freed your hand from your blankets to pry his fingers lose from your hip. Not that you had to try very hard, he let you move him easily, pull his arm back around you again and finally shift your hips back flush with his. "Jesus Christ." He breathed out as both his arms caged you against him.

A shudder ran down your spine, his breath against you neck, his lips, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he held you tight and the shameless way he caved in ground his erection against your ass. Another giggle escaped you, this one breathy and unsteady.

"Happy now?" Jack teased as his kissed the back of your neck.

"Yes." You shifted back against him again, testing the waters, and smiling when his breath rushed out him. "What time is it?"

He twisted the arm under you so he could see his watch, "Little after ten."

You took a deep breath, building up the courage, your desire doing a lot of the work for you, "I'm not tired anymore."

Jack had always known you too well, and you were so grateful for that because that was all you had to say for him to snap. His hands moved exactly where he wanted them as he coaxed you to turn your head to kiss him. If the kiss hadn't knocked the wind out of you already his words would have.

"You're gonna be."

~~~~

Jack was still there when Marcus came home, changed from his scrubs into the spare jeans and shirt he kept in his backpack. He'd stayed out of sight while Perlah and you chatted by the door, neither of you quite ready for that round of questioning just yet. Or the dozens that would follow.

Your heart did a little flip in your chest when Marcus lit up upon realizing Jack was there. Your brother immediately began to explain in excruciating detail all the excitement of the adventure park and Jack seemed more than content to listen.

You watched from the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower you had taken after spending the last couple hours of your morning in bed with Jack. Your heart flipped again when you heard Marcus ask, "What are you doing here anyway?" No filter, your brother still had no filter.

Jack threw you a look and the tiniest smirk before he answered, "Came by to see your sister after work. Thought maybe I'd hang out here today and we could go out to eat later. Sound okay?"

"Yeah! Can we go to that steak place again?"

"Marc, we don't need to go someplace quite that nice."

"Why not?" He looked at you a little put out.

Jack turned to look at you again, barely holding back a full on smirk, "Yeah hon, why not?."

You knew your face had betrayed your thoughts, because that smug asshole smiled, actually smiled. "Because it's pricey" You snark back at him even as he makes his way around the counter to come stand behind you.

He sets his hands on your hips and pulls you close, "So?" He pries. Then quieter, just for you he adds, "We're celebrating."

"Stop it." You hissed at him, a flush creeping up your neck. You did your best to ignore the feel of him chuckling behind you and turned your attention back to your brother, "We aren't going anywhere until you finish your homework anyway."

"SIssy… It's Saturday." He dropped himself onto the couch dramatically.

"And we made a deal that you could go this morning and have fun if you promised to finish your homework this afternoon."

"But Dr Jack is here, we can go do fun stuff!"

Jack must have felt your deep sigh because he held you a little tighter and kissed the back of your head. He whispered, "If he get's it done can I take you guys to dinner?"

You hummed in thought and dropped your head back against his shoulder, "Ok Marc, how about you get all your work done, and then maybe we can all go to Saltfork for dinner? Seem fair?"

"Can I have the brownie skillet thing!?" He launched back up off the couch with wide eyes.

Behind you Jack full out laughed and all you could do was pinch the bridge of your nose, "We'll see."

He did a little touchdown dance in the middle of the living room and then sprinted to his room.

Once you were alone Jack turned you around and pulled you closer. Stared into your eyes, smirk still firmly on his face.

"You don't have to bribe him to like you, you know? You're like the coolest person he knows." You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder.

"Maybe I just like spoiling you both a little. Ever think of that?" His one hand slid down to cup your ass and squeeze. "Plus, like I said, we're celebrating." He snorted when you bit his chest through his t-shirt.

"Stop being so smug or it's not going to happen again." You mumbled.

Jack smirked, slipped his hand up and under the back of your shirt, warm against your bare skin, "So, you do want it to happen again?"

For a minute your embarrassment kept you silent, but you nodded and spoke into his shirt, "As often as possible."

That must have made him happy because Jack didn't say anything. He simply tipped your face up to his and kissed you. Deep, long, slow kisses that made your pulse skyrocket.

"Eww. Dr. Jack will you help me with my homework?" Marcus had reappeared.

Jack gave you one last kiss and a wink before he pulled back, "Yeah bud, what d'ya got?" He gave your hip a squeeze and then followed after Marcus as the boy ran back into his room.

~~~~~

"Is Jack going to move in?" Marcus asked one night while it was just the two of you eating dinner in the living room, watching Lilo & Stich. A treat for the both of you, acting like bums after a long week and watching a favorite movie. Even if Marcus swore it was for little kids. Never mind he knew it word for word and had watched it a thousand times.

"Jack has his own house Marc, he owns it. He's not going to move into an apartment with us." You fought down the nerves already spinning in your stomach.

"He's here a lot and normally, if you two had been together this long, you'd be living together. Right?" Marcus was a teenager now and you kind of sort of hated it. Raising your little brother was one thing, quote unquote raising your teenage brother was another game entirely.

Jack had been in Marcus's life for years now in one way or another. First as a friend of yours, then as your boyfriend, now it was clear that Jack Abbot was playing a big part in the young man your brother was becoming.

"Maybe." You pause to sip your drink, buy yourself time, "It's not always that simple though."

Your brother is quiet for a minute, watches the movie and shoves a handful of fries in his mouth. "So, are we going to move in with him?"

A week later he had asked Jack the same question. You had to work so Jack had gone to Marc's baseball game on his own. After the game they'd gone through the drivethru for food and while they waited Marc asked, "Would you want Sissy to live with you?"

Jack had a hell of a poker face, but he still nearly let it slip at that. "What do you mean?"

"If It was just you and her? You'd want to live together right?"

"Where's this coming from?"

"Just curious."

Jack thought for a minute, let the truck roll a few more feet ahead in the line. "Would you want to live with me?" He turned the question on the boy.

Marcus stared out the window, "I'd think it'd be kinda cool I guess."

"Don't think it would be weird?" Jack found himself getting his hopes up.

"Do you know how many times I have to explain to people you're not my Dad, you're my sisters boyfriend? It's already weird."

He couldn't help but laugh. Jack nodded a couple of times, "Fair enough."

~~~~~

In the middle of Jacks living room surrounded by storage totes you stood up to catch your breath and squint across the room at Jack, "Do you ever feel like we've been manipulated by a thirteen year old boy that just wanted a bigger bedroom?"

"Not a doubt in my mind." Jack laughs as he sets another tote down. "But," He closes the distance between the two of you and grabs your hips. Pulling you to him by the waistband of your shorts, "Jokes on him, I'm the one getting what I wanted all along."

You let him kiss you, enjoyed the butterflies in your stomach from making out in the middle of the house that would be your house now, not just his. Then you pulled away, "Have you ever lived with a teenage boy? You might regret this."

"I've lived in barracks." He pulls you back to him with a grin, "I've lived in a canvas tent in the middle of the desert, with twenty other dudes barely old enough to drink with no showers and eating MREs for three meals a day." You grinned along with him, while he made his point. "Think I can handle one thirteen year old boy." He sobered a little, eyes scanning your face, "Especially if it means I get you here in bed with me." Jack kissed you again, intention behind it this time as his fingers traced the waistband of your cutoffs.

When his fingers settled on the button you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, "Supposed to be unpacking." You still let your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers combing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You're very distracting." He dropped his gaze down to his hands as they popped the button, "Especially in these fucking shorts." His fingers moved to the zipper, pulling it open so slowly.

"So I should probably get rid of them?" You teased, but it came out breathless and jittery as he walked you back towards the couch.

Jack bobbed his head to the side as he moved to kiss you again, "No, but you should definitly take them off."

~~~~~

The number of times you watched Jack over the years, sit down with Marc and talk about anything and everything. Talk through the loss of your parents, missing out on sports team tryouts, girl troubles, trouble with friends, life in general. From the time he was a young boy and barely knew Jack beyond Dr. Jack, Sissy's friend, Marcus had always seemed to see Jack as a source of knowledge and little to no judgement.

Bad behavior that sent you up the wall was nothing to Jack. A simple conversation or at worst a hard look and it was handled. To the point that you wondered what you would have done without him if it had just been you and Marcus.

Then one night while you were out with friends, something you were finally able to do again, Jack got a call. He nearly didn't answer, because he didn't recognize the number, but he was glad he did.

He didn't speak for a long while when he entered the hallway where Marc and his three friends were sat. He simply stared them all down. When he did finally break the silence, it wasn't the sisters boyfriend Jack that spoke. It was former Army NCO Jack Abbot, Dr Jack Abbot. Stone faced he simply said, "Explain."

To Marc's credit he stood up straight, looked Jack in the eye and told the truth. Something that went a long way.

Jack took him home, the drive long and painfully quiet, and when they got home he sat him down at the kitchen to wait for you to come home.

In bed that night you had stared at the ceiling. "At least it was just a gummy. RIght? And it came from a store."

Jack grumbled next to you. You both had lectured him on how dangerous it was to take any substance when you didn't know what it was for sure or where it had come from. Anyone could say they got it from a friend of a friend that was old enough. "He's a good kid, hon. He's smart. He told the truth and that's what matters I think. Just did a dumb teenager thing."

"Thank you for going and getting him."

"Of course."

You moved closer and cuddled into him, "I'm glad he has you."

~~~~~

One morning later that summer you were getting ready for work, watching Jack in the mirror as he slipped on his running blade.

Like always Jack sensed you, knew what you were thinking before you could say it out loud. "Coach told Marc if he wanted to make JV next year he needs to work harder." He stood up and shifted his weight back and forth on the specialized prosthesis. "So, he wants to start working out with me this summer." Jack came up behind you, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "We'll see how he feels after today."

"Is it weird I think it's kinda sexy when you put that thing on?" You chuckled as he grabbed your hips.

"Yeah, it's weird." He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, "I like weird though." You elbow him in the side and he only laughs, smacks your ass, "Have a good day, baby."

While he and Marcus jog around the neighborhood Jack can't help but let his mind wander. Half of him paying attention to Marcus talking about being able to take his driving test soon, and that he would need a car. The other half of his mind though, was occupied with a different conversation he needed to have with your brother.

Jack was a little ashamed to admit it took him the whole three miles to build up the guts to do it. They were walking down the street towards the house, cooling off. "Marc, I want to ask you something."

Your brother was still more than a little winded from the run, which honestly made jack feels a little better about himself, "Okay."

"How would you feel if your sister and I got married?" Just get it over with.

Marcus didn't answer right away, when he did it caught Jack off guard. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? Because we love each other, been together for years, because I want to."

"No, I mean," Marcus sucked in a deep breath, "Like, why now? You said it, you guys have been together for like ever."

Jack rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, had to remind himself that to Marcus it was forever. Nearly half the boys life Jack and you had been together by that point. "Honestly bud, you're old enough now that her life doesn't revolve around you like it used to." Jack had always made a point in his relationship with your brother to be as upfront as possible. "You're older now, more mature. When you were a kid I didn't want to get in the way of you and her. That was more important." He didn't know if that made sense at all, to anyone but him.

Marc nodded as they crossed a street and after a few minutes he finally responded, "Is it alright if I don't know how I feel?"

"Of course it is." Jack stopped at the corner, knew that Marcus would follow his lead, "I love your sister, think you know that, and I love you too. It's important to me that you'd be okay with it."

"So, have you already asked her to marry you or something?"

He shook his head, "No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. Man to man."

Marcus nodded, "Nothing... nothing would really change right?"

Jack could see that kid in him then, the one that had once upon a time had the whole world ripped out from under him. "Not really. She might take my last name, that would be about it. It'll be easier for her to get my benefits and everything if something happened, but no, life will be pretty much the same."

"If you couldn't marry her? Are you going to get pissed?"

"Don't say pissed, especially around your sister. We'll both get in trouble. No bud, if she doesn't want it I'm not going anywhere."

"So, is this like, if our Dad was alive and you were going to ask for his permission to marry Sissy or something?"

Jack laughed, "Not quite, but sure you can think of it that way if you want."

"What if I said no?"

There was something in the kids eyes that Jack recognized all too well. "Then we're turning around and doing another three miles." Jack shoved him jokingly, "So, don't get a big head."

Marcus laughed as he caught his balance, "I don't know how I really feel about it I guess," He started as the two of them kept walking, "But, I think it would make her happy."

Jack didn't expect the stab of emotion in his chest. "Well, then how about you think on it and we can talk about it again later?"

It took Marc less than 24 hours to come back and tell Jack he thought it would be a good idea and then threaten him that if he broke your heart Jack would have him to deal with. Jack had laughed but nodded, "Understood."

~~~~~~

You had cried when Jack proposed to you, but now you could not quit smiling. Sprawled across his chest you stared at your hand in front of you, the diamond he had put on your finger, smiling.

Jack had one arm behind his head, but his other hand was drawing lazy patterns over your bare back, perfectly content to watch you in that moment. "Maybe I should have asked sooner."

Your eyes snapped back to his, "No, this is perfect." You moved to crawl up to meet him, kiss him, humming happily at the feeling of his two rough, warm hands settling low on your hips and then smoothing up your sides, over your back.

"Yeah?" He asked quietly, lips brushing over yours as he looked up at you, watching you intently.

"Perfect." You lowered more of your weight over him and he wrapped his arms around you, kissed you deeper. "Everything is perfect." You moaned when his hands moved back to your hips, pulling you straddle him. "I'm so happy Jack, you've always made me happy."

Jack nodded, cradled the back of your head and spoke directly against your lips, "Good. That's all I want hon," He paused to kiss you, the love and the meaning behind it bone deep, "Just want to make you happy."

You lost yourselves in it for a moment, kissing and touching eachother, both of you coming to terms with the knowledge that this would be the rest of your life. Jack was finally, officially, going to be a part of your tiny, broken little family. The missing piece that had brought it all together.

Suddenly you laughed, unable to stop it.

Jack grumbled, fingers dug into your hips, "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry." You kissed him, traced his tongue with yours in apology, "I just thought of something."

"Oh yeah?" Jacks eyes were laser focused as you sat up, still straddling his hips, your hands coming to rest on his torso. He let his hands slid down your thighs to rest, "Want to share?"

You bit your lip, "It's slly."

Jack just stared up at you, waiting. "Ohana."

Jack watched you, gently shook his head to say he wasn't tracking.

"Lilo & Stitch?"

Jack furrowed his brow, then shook his head, still confused. Marcus had forced him to watch the with him plenty of times when he was younger. Even still Jack would find the two of you on the couch watching the kids movie. He hadn't really put much thought into it.

"It's us." You shrugged and looked away for a second, "We watched it once, I'd only had Marcus with me for maybe... a month, if even, and I had no idea what to do so we watched movies. Like all the time." You nodded to yourself at the memories, your fingers absently tracing over the lines of muscle and a few scattered scars over Jacks chest and abdomen. "He said one day, ' Sissy! it's us.' and it is. A lost, sad, lonley, little kid, and an older sister just trying to do her best, but has no fucking clue what she's doing. Just trying to do what she can after their parents died. It's even set in Hawaii." You snorted out a laugh, "It's stupid but it was nice at the time, to see that, for both of us I think." You took a deep breath and smiled down at him.

"It means family?" Jack finally nodded, understanding he thought, his hold on you tightening, "It's little and broken, but still good, right? That's what they say?"

You nod, eyes burning again. Jack watches you, his eyes taking in all of you and then the corner of his mouth ticks up, "Does that make me the surfer dude boyfriend? WIth the muscles and the floppy hair that follows her around like a kicked puppy?"

The laugh rips out of you before you can stop it and you smack him across the chest, "I think it does." You're smiling like an idiot again as you stroke your hands over his strong core and chest, trace your fingers over the corded muscles in his arms and then you lean down. One hand combing through the graying curls you loved and your lips brushing over his. "Technically fiance."

~~~~~

It felt strange to be back in Hawaii. The last time you were here was for your parents funeral. So many emotions. You had woke up early, your internal clock messed up, but it gave you an excuse to sit and watch the sky light up over the early morning breakers. Your heart skipped a beat when Jacks arms wrapped around you from behind, his lips brushing over the side of your neck. You dropped your weight back into him, happy to feel him take it easily, keep you standing like he'd always done.

"Second thoughts?" He whispered against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you.

"Not a chance. You're stuck now, no getting out of it."

Jack hummed, a hint of a laugh in it, "Damn." His lips moved down your neck, over your shoulder. He didn't have to see you to know you had rolled your eyes. "Don't have to be up for a long time yet, hon." His hands moved to slip beneath the shirt you had worn to bed.

"Are you telling me to come back to bed?" You couldn't help but smile as you dropped your head back against his shoulder, let yourself enjoy the moment.

"Asking nicely." He chuckled into the side of your neck, "For now.'

"Well," You started, turned in his arms, "Since you asked nicely." You wrapped your arms around Jacks neck and kissed him as you let him take you back to bed.

For a few more hours anyway.

Then he was waiting for you, looking so calm and confident, smiling at you while your heart felt like it was going to rip out of your chest.

Beside you Marcus gave your arm a squeeze, and then he gave you an easy smile. His eyes locked on yours and unwavering. God, there was so much of Jack in him now. The way your brother stood, the way he carried himself, the confidence and certainty on his face as the seventeen year old boy stood in for your father, ready to walk you across the beach and up to the alter.

There had been a time, after that phonecall that had brought you to your knees in the middle of the ED, that you thought your life was over. Far from it you realized, It was just beginning. Sure, maybe your PTMC family was going to be a little annoyed with you when you get back from your "family vacation" and find out you and Jack had eloped, but they'd forgive you. Eventually.

~~ The End ~~

[monicfever]

Hiiii 👋👋👋 could you write hcs about punisher n daredevil characters finding reader badly injured? Like in the brink of death. Maybe in a scenario where reader is a vigilante, your choice :)

you’re critically injured 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher headcanons

r e q u e s t e d ♡

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / muse / wesley

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

the first thing matt notices is the smell of blood. sharp, metallic, thick in the air. his heartbeat spikes as he’s running through the alley, scanning the shadows with a heightened sense of panic. he hears the faintest shift of breathing, shallow, labored, and he knows. he knows it’s you.

his heart sinks into his stomach when he finally locates you, crumpled against a wall, blood staining the concrete beneath you. you’re barely conscious, barely holding on. his hands shake as he drops to his knees beside you, instinctively checking for a pulse. it's weak, but it's there.

he’s trying to keep it together, but the fear in his chest grows. his senses are overwhelmed: the sharpness of your blood on the air, the brokenness in your breathing, the way your body is trembling under the weight of what you’ve endured. matt’s fingers graze your skin, feeling the warmth of your body despite the chill of blood pooling around you. his usually steady hands tremble as he pushes your hair back, his voice soft but firm. “stay with me. please, don’t do this. please.”

his mind is racing, calculating, desperate. every second matters. he can feel the damage, but he knows there’s no time to waste. he’s no doctor, but he knows the signs of severe blood loss, and he won’t lose you like this. his grip tightens on your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, even as his thoughts are whirling in a thousand directions. you’ve always been the one to keep fighting, to push through the impossible, and it kills him that he can’t be the one to save you this time.

the guilt hits him like a punch to the gut. he should’ve been there. he should’ve known. he’s supposed to protect you. but he didn’t. now he’s staring down at you, blood staining his hands, the overwhelming scent of iron mixing with the faint scent of you. his radar sense is a mess, overwhelmed with every small sound: the crackle of your shallow breaths, the faint tremor in your heartbeat, the sickening thud of blood dripping onto the pavement.

every instinct in him is screaming. no. no no no. not like this. he’s scrambling, trying to hold you together in his arms, his voice urgent and strained. for the first time in a long time, he’s terrified. he’s scared. his world is spinning out of control. you’re in his arms, slipping away.

you open your eyes just enough to meet his gaze, and that small, fleeting moment of connection — your weak, barely-there smile breaks him in ways he can’t explain. he hates himself for not seeing this coming, for not being there sooner. “i’m sorry,” he stutters, his voice shaky, barely a breath as he presses his forehead to yours. “i’m so sorry. i should’ve—” he cuts himself off with a sharp, frustrated sound. he’s shaking, his control slipping further as he feels your blood seep through his fingers, your body limp in his arms. the sound of your heartbeat is slowing, and every second that passes is like a knife in his chest.

without thinking, he scoops you up. he’s already calculating, running through every alley, every shortcut he knows, his mind fixated only on getting you to the hospital, getting you help before it’s too late. matt’s mind is already running, already picturing the faces of the scum who did this. they don’t get to hurt you and walk away. he bursts through the hospital doors, a breathless, wild mess, the doctors rush to take you from his arms.

as they pry you away, matt lingers in the doorway, his heart still in his throat. he’s torn between wanting to follow them, make sure they’re doing everything right, and wanting to tear through the streets and hunt down the monsters who put you in this state.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

the second he sees your body slumped in the dirt, blood staining the concrete beneath you, something inside him snaps. not breaks — snaps. like a wire pulled too tight finally giving out. a deep, terrible silence settles over him for half a second. then it’s gone. replaced by fire.

“no, no, no.” he growls, running to you. his knees hit the ground hard but he doesn’t even register the pain. all he can see is you. broken. bleeding. your gear torn. your skin pale. your chest barely rising. the world around him turns red. frank’s voice is low and frantic as he presses his hands to your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. “you stay with me. you stay with me, goddamnit.”

you’re still alive, barely. he can hear it. the ragged hitch of your breath, the faint stutter of your heartbeat. it’s the only thing keeping him from completely losing control. just barely.

he scoops you up in his arms, movements stiff with rage, with desperation. there’s no subtlety, no care for being quiet — he’s a storm tearing through the night, carrying your broken body like a soldier carrying a fallen comrade out of hell. the hospital is too far. too slow. he takes you to someone off the grid — a medic he knows, someone who won’t ask questions. and even then, even when they start patching up, frank can’t sit still. his fists are clenched. jaw tight. body vibrating with fury. he stares at the blood on his hands like it’s proof that he failed you.

he doesn’t say it out loud, but the guilt is unbearable. he should’ve been there. he should’ve known. the second he took his eyes off you, someone tried to take you from him. and now all he can think about is revenge. he demands a name. doesn’t care if you’re awake enough to answer. he’ll find out anyway. he always does. and once he does, that name becomes a death sentence.

there’s no hesitation. no mercy. whoever did this is already dead, they just don’t know it yet. frank will hunt them, one by one, slow and brutal. no warnings. no speeches. just bullets and blood and silence. he’s not out for justice. this isn’t about balance. this is personal. they tried to take you from him. they crossed a line, and frank castle has never let something like that go unanswered.

the second they say you’re stable, just stable, not awake, he’s gone. no words. no goodbye. just the heavy sound of the door slamming behind him and the fire in his chest finally given permission to burn the world down. the rampage doesn’t start with guns. it starts with intel. names. faces. affiliations. once he has them it’s over. brutal. no survivors. they’re not just dead, they’re erased. to frank, this isn’t about sending a message. it’s about making sure they never touch anything he loves again.

the bodies pile up fast. each one worse than the last. there’s no pattern except brutality. knives. bare hands. point-blank execution. he’s not even covering his tracks — he wants them to know who’s doing it. he wants the fear to spread. he leaves behind chaos. and a message, unspoken but loud: you fucked with the wrong person.

in the rare moments he’s not out hunting, he’s sitting beside you. still bloodied. still burning. he watches your chest rise and fall like it’s the only thing keeping him alive too. sometimes he talks to you. quiet, raspy words like confessions. he wipes the sweat from your forehead with a rag, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the carnage he left behind hours before. his thumb brushes your cheek, he breathes deep. you’re still here.

he doesn’t sleep. doesn’t eat. not until you open your eyes again. and when you finally do, even if it’s just for a second, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the moment he found you bleeding in that alley. “i got ‘em,” he says, voice low, gravel-rough. “every last one. they won’t ever touch you again.”

but even when you’re awake, he’s not the same. there’s something darker in him now. something permanent. he’s more aware that you are easily a target and can get ripped from him at any point. depending on the strength/length of the relationship, the next time you see him once you open your eyes may very well be the last.

if he has to become the devil to keep you safe — so be it. he’s already halfway there.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

he’s not supposed to find you like this. he’s supposed to be waiting at home, maybe pacing with a mug of coffee gone cold, maybe falling asleep on the couch with the tv on low. but instead, he’s running through a dark alley, heart in his throat, phone in his shaking hand, following some half-panicked tip from someone who "saw someone in your suit" go down hard. he rounds the corner and sees you crumpled on the ground. at first, he doesn’t even register that it’s you. the blood, the way your body is twisted, your mask half torn. it doesn’t look real. it looks like a nightmare he’s having with his eyes open.

“no,” he whispers. it’s the only thing that comes out. then louder, frantic: “hey! hey, baby, come on. stay with me.”

his knees hit the pavement. he doesn’t care about the blood or the dirt or the way his hands shake as he pulls you into his lap. you’re too still. too quiet. your breathing’s shallow. he presses his hand to your side and it comes away soaked. he nearly vomits. “you’re okay. you’re gonna be okay. we’re gonna — shit, okay— i need to call someone.” but he can’t even dial. his hands won’t stop shaking. his voice keeps cracking. “you’re gonna be fine, i swear. you’re not dying. you’re not dying. you’re not dying.” - he tells you, but it’s more for himself.

foggy has seen matt come home busted up. he’s patched bruises, stitched wounds. he knows what this life does to people. but this —you — he never imagined this. and now that it’s happening it’s like time is moving too fast and too slow at once.

he finally calls someone — matt, karen, someone who knows what to do. he blurts out the location, doesn’t even know if they can understand him through the panic in his voice. “they’re hurt, they’re — shit, they’re not waking up.” when help does arrive, he won’t let go.

at the hospital he’s a wreck. pacing, snapping at nurses, tears in his eyes. trying to keep it together but failing miserably. there’s blood on his clothes. he hasn’t sat down in hours. he keeps replaying it over and over — how pale you looked. how quiet. how close he was to losing you. when the doctors say you’re stable, he sits down for the first time and just cries. full-on, head-in-hands, silent shaking sobs.

he doesn’t leave your hospital room. not for food. not for sleep. not even when they ask him to. he’s curled up in one of those uncomfortable chairs, arms crossed tight like he’s physically trying to keep himself from falling apart. his eyes are on you constantly, watching your chest rise and fall. counting the seconds between each breath like it’s a lifeline.

the doctors tell him you’ll be okay. they say it a few times, gently, like they think it’ll finally sink in. but foggy doesn’t believe it until you open your eyes. when you finally do, he lets out a breath so heavy it sounds like he’s been holding it since the moment he found you. “hey.” he greets, voice cracking just on that one word. he tries to smile but it’s broken around the edges. “you look like hell.” you say, and then his eyes get glassy again because even half-dead, you’re still you, and he almost lost you. the tears come quietly this time. no drama. just him brushing your hair back with shaking fingers, but he’s not himself enough to joke. he just leans down and rests his forehead against your arm, letting the silence say what he can’t.

when you’re strong enough to come home, he sets up everything. extra pillows, blankets, meds. he googles like ten different recovery guides and keeps your favourite soup on the stove. he jokes, tries to keep things light, but you can see the fear still living behind his eyes. he flinches when you wince. apologizes for things that aren’t his fault. checks on you every few minutes, even when you’re asleep. “i know i said i could handle this,” he whispers one night while you’re resting, your hand in his. “but this, what happened, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

he won’t ask you to stop. not out loud, because he knows this is who you are. he’s proud of you. scared for you. but proud. still, of course he wishes you would quit. he’s not a fighter. not in the way you or matt or frank are. but he’d go to war for you all the same, and you know if he had gotten there a minute later that night, he would’ve never recovered.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

it’s not the first time someone she loves has bled out in front of her. but this hits different. it’s you. and karen has already buried too many people. she told herself she couldn’t do this again, couldn’t love someone who runs headfirst into danger. but then there was you. and now you’re lying on the cold floor, broken, barely breathing, and she can’t stop shaking.

she stumbles when she finds you. almost slips in the blood. her hands go to her mouth before she can stop them — silent shock. her heart is in her throat. she drops on the floor next to you, her hands hover over you, afraid to touch, afraid she’ll hurt you worse — but she has to do something. she presses down on the worst wound, even though her hands are slick with blood. her fingers are slipping. she’s talking to you the whole time, voice trembling, like if she stops talking, you’ll slip away. “hey, hey, i’m here. you’re gonna be okay. just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

her phone’s already on speaker, the dispatcher talking her through what to do. she’s holding pressure, crying without realizing it, trying not to fall apart because you need her. and she’s not going to let you die — not when she just started to believe maybe, just maybe, you were the one she wouldn’t lose.

when the ambulance arrives, they have to pull her away from you. she fights it at first, grabbing onto your jacket, her bloodstained fingers clutching the fabric like she can keep you tethered to this world just by holding on. at the hospital, she’s stone-faced. too still. too quiet. people keep asking if she’s okay, but she just stares straight ahead. she’s not okay. she’s watching nurses rush in and out of your room, scrubs soaked red, machines beeping. it all feels too familiar. and the worst part? she doesn’t know if she can do it again. the waiting. the not knowing.

when they tell her you’re stable, she doesn’t cry. she just walks into your room like a ghost and sits by your bedside. she doesn’t touch you at first. just watches you breathe. listens to the steady beep of the heart monitor and lets it stitch her back together, one slow beat at a time. eventually her hand finds yours. she stays the whole night, doesn’t sleep. just sits in that hard plastic chair, watching the sunrise paint shadows across your face. her eyes are red. her soul is tired. but she’s there. because she always is. because you’re worth the pain.

when you wake, she smiles — small, watery, but real. not forced. relived. “hey,” she says. “you scared the hell out of me.” she doesn't ask you to stop. she knows she can't. but her voice goes low, soft, trembling with something fragile. “next time, come home. don’t make me find you like that again.”

after the worst is over, after the colour starts returning to your face, karen shifts. she goes quiet, withdrawn. controlled. because that’s how she survives this: by doing something. by finding out who did this to you and making sure they can never hurt you again. she starts digging the second she leaves your hospital room. doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat. just her laptop, a folder full of crime scene photos no one should have, and a growing web of connections on her wall — sticky notes, red string, scribbled names and locations.

she’s not reckless. she’s methodical. she calls in favors, slips into police records she’s technically not supposed to have access to, traces shell corporations and burner phones. if the people who came after you thought they were ghosts, they picked the wrong woman to cross. every night she comes back to your bedside like nothing’s changed. she talks to you softly, like she hasn’t spent the entire day tearing through criminal networks with a pen and a stare.

her version of revenge isn’t bullets or fists. it’s facts, it’s evidence, it’s exposing everything they’ve done and nailing them to the wall in court. she’s seen what blood-soaked justice does to people. it nearly destroyed frank. nearly destroyed her. so she’s doing it her way this time. but even she has limits, and when she finally tracks down the name of the person who ordered the hit on you, when she sees their face, reads their file, realizes how close they got to killing you - - there’s a split second where she considers just sending that name to frank. or matt. or taking a gun and doing it herself. she doesn’t. not yet. but the thought lingers.

there’s steel in her eyes when she looks at you. love, yes. but fire too. a dangerous kind of loyalty. she almost lost you. she kisses your forehead and brushes your hair, “you just focus on healing,” she says softly. “i’ve got the rest.”

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

she finds you by scent first. blood in the air, and her instincts flare. everything in her stills. her fingers twitch toward her sai. her heart? it drops, immediately. she knows it’s yours. her body starts moving before her brain catches up. the sight of you nearly guts her. crumpled. gasping. blood soaking into the street like it’s trying to swallow you whole. her face doesn’t change, not yet. but her heart is screaming.

“you idiot.” she breathes, kneeling beside you. her hands hover, uncertain. for a second, she looks down at you like you’re already dead. like she’s staring at a body and trying to convince herself it’s not real. then she snaps into action, fast, precise, pressure on wounds. a whispered curse in greek under her breath.

she doesn’t call for help, she is the help. she picks you up, cradling you close to her chest, and moves like a shadow through the night. rooftops. alleyways. no hesitation. she gets you somewhere safe, somewhere secret. a place no one but her knows. her hands are stained red by the time she’s finished patching you up. it’s messy, but she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t stop moving. if she lets herself feel even for a second, she’ll come undone.

and then she disappears. without a word. you’re alive — so now someone else won’t be. she hunts with the kind of violence that comes from fury. she doesn’t ask questions. doesn’t give warnings. she carves a path through the people who touched you like she’s making a statement in blood and she smiles while doing it. not because she enjoys the kill — but because it quiets the ache. for a moment, revenge is the only thing louder than her fear. she doesn’t care who they are. a gang, a syndicate, a hand of god — it doesn’t matter. they’re in her way and they die for it.

when she returns, days later, she’s cleaner. calmer. like she’s shed the blood and stepped back into her skin. but when she looks at you, still pale, still healing, that mask slips just a little.

she doesn’t sit by your bedside like matt or foggy or karen. she watches from the shadows, perched near the window like a ghost. barely breathing. doesn’t want you to see how shaken she is. doesn’t want you to know how deeply she feels this. how much of her identity unravels the second she admits: you’re not just another casualty. you ask her where she went, her gaze sharpens. “handled it,” she replies flat. but her jaw is tight, her knuckles white. you know what that means.

the night you wake up crying from pain, she’s already there. no sound. no warning. just a gentle hand on your ribs, shushing you softly. “breathe. it’s just pain. you’re alive.” but you see her eyes shimmer for a split second. not with tears — she doesn’t cry. with something that looks like grief curling inward.

when you ask if she’s okay, she laughs. cold and low. “you almost died, and you’re asking me?” she cups your face then, thumb brushing your cheekbone. the softest touch from the most dangerous hands. she doesn’t promise you’ll be safe. she never lies. but she does promise one thing, with venom in her voice: “if anyone tries this again, they’ll beg for hell by the time i’m finished.”

some nights you wake to find her pacing. barefoot. silent. a blade spinning in her fingers out of habit. it’s not restlessness, it’s restraint. she’s still seething beneath the surface, waiting for another name, another threat, another reason to hurt something in your name.

she starts training with you again before you’re ready. not because she’s cruel — because the thought of losing you again is unbearable. her touches are rougher. her critiques sharper. but her eyes never leave you. she’s watching, making sure it never happens again. you confront her, tell her she’s pushing too hard, that you need time. her jaw clenches. “time didn’t stop them from almost killing you.” she snaps.

she doesn’t ask you to stop being a vigilante. she’d never try to take that from you. but she does expect blood if anyone touches you again. it’s not a question. it’s a fact.

and still, on the quietest nights, she curls into your side like a girl afraid of the dark. because she’s seen death. been reborn by it. but the only thing that’s ever truly terrified her is the thought of living in a world where you don’t exist.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

he finds you by accident. it’s not a tip. not intel. he’s just out — tracking someone else — when he turns the corner and sees you. the second he recognizes your body slumped on the pavement, he freezes. mid-step. breath locked in his throat, eyes wide. everything goes quiet in his head. no noise. no inner voice. just a sudden, terrifying blankness that only ever comes with trauma.

and then it all slams back in. heart pounding, breath shaking, footsteps too loud as he rushes to you, dropping to his knees hard enough to bruise. his hands are shaking. “what the fuck —no, no — hey. hey. look at me,” he snaps, voice cracking as he lifts your face roughly. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to leave me.”

he presses his hands to your wounds, barely noticing that he’s getting blood all over himself. his suit. his arms. his face. he doesn’t care. he’s muttering now, voice slipping fast between anger and panic. “you’re fine. you’re fine. you’re gonna be fine.” there’s a twitch behind his eye, the way it always starts when he’s unraveling. the restraint is gone. he’s fighting the part of him that wants to go find whoever did this and carve their eyes out with a fucking pen.

he carries you himself. doesn’t trust anyone else to touch you. gets you to a safehouse, not a hospital — he doesn’t trust them, either. “i got you,” he keeps saying, over and over like a mantra. “i got you. i got you. i got you.” he patches you up with the kind of surgical precision only someone trained to kill would have. he’s been taught where to stab, where to shoot, where to break. now he’s using that same knowledge to keep you alive. hands still shaking. breath uneven. eyes wide and glassy.

when it’s over — when the bleeding’s stopped, and your breathing evens out — he just sits next to you. hands covered in your blood. staring at nothing. numb. it doesn’t last. the next day he’s gone. doesn’t say where, doesn’t leave a note. when he comes back there’s blood on his collar. a new rip in his jacket. a dark look in his eye. he doesn’t say a word. just washes his hands in the sink, slow and quiet. “they screamed,” he mutters later. voice low. flat. “when i found ‘em.” he doesn’t ask for forgiveness. not for the blood. not for the kill. he needs you to know what he did. in his mind, that’s love. that’s loyalty. that’s what he is.

at first he tries to hold it together. stiff jaw. blank face. but it cracks fast the moment he hears you groan in pain, or sees you wince when you move — it’s like a glitch in his programming. he paces. mutters. his breathing gets shallow. hands in his hair. “fuck. fuckfuckfuck.” he can’t stop replaying it. you on the ground. the blood. your eyes going glassy. the way your body felt in his arms — too limp. too quiet. it haunts him. he’s twitchier than usual, zoning out mid-sentence, jaw clenching like he’s trying not to scream.

when you sleep he stands at the door with a gun in his hand. all night. doesn’t blink. doesn’t rest. he hears every sound, every creak, every car outside — and for every single one, he’s ready to kill. he will not let it happen again. you wake up and find him cleaning weapons on the kitchen table. obsessively. over and over. something in his expression isn’t right. too calm. too blank. eyes dead.

you tell him you’re okay now. he snaps. kicks a chair so hard it splinters against the wall. slams his fist into the fridge. breathing too fast. too shallow. “you almost died.” he shouts, turning toward you, eyes wide and wild. you try to calm him. he steps back. shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the panic out of his skull. “i can’t lose you. i can’t—” voice cuts off. he’s choking on it. shaking. “if you leave, i’ll fucking burn down the world.”

he becomes obsessive. even more controlling — not in a cruel way, but in that desperate, self-destructive, bpd way where his fear of abandonment becomes everything. he checks on you every hour. double locks the doors. hides weapons around the apartment. watches you sleep like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. doesn’t want you going out with anyone that’s not him. “i don’t trust the world with you,” he tells you. “only me. only i can keep you alive.”

god help you the moment you try to suit up again. he begs. angry, terrified. “please don’t go.” his voice goes so soft, like he’s reverting back to the little boy inside him who just wanted someone to stay. he will beg you to quit, to stop, to give up that part of your life completely. if you go anyway he unravels. waits at home, pacing, crying, screaming into his hands, punching walls, whispering your name. “please come back. please come back. please come back.” when you finally do, and you’re safe, he grabs you, pulls you into him so tight it hurts, and presses his face into your neck. he’s trembling. sobbing.

he doesn’t let go for hours. doesn’t care how messy it looks. doesn’t care how unstable he seems. because when it comes to you? he needs. it’s not just love, you’re his survival.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

the moment he sees you, his whole body freezes. it's not panic — it's shock. billy's usually composed, cold, the kind of guy who can walk through hell and come out smiling. but this is different. you're not just another casualty in his world, you're his everything. and when he sees you lying there, barely conscious, blood seeping into the concrete, it feels like the air leaves his lungs. for the first few seconds, he doesn’t move. his eyes go glassy, disbelieving. his heart is pounding in his ears, and he can’t process it. he doesn’t know what to do. everything he’s ever known, every instinct, every move, every cold calculation — it’s gone.

when he finally rushes to you, he’s all hands, desperate to pull you close. “hey. hey, baby. hey, look at me,” his voice shakes slightly, like he’s trying to ground himself in something real. something that isn’t this nightmare. “you’re gonna be fine. you hear me? you’re gonna be fine.” he pulls you into his arms and holds you against his chest, completely oblivious to the blood staining his suit. all he cares about is keeping you conscious. “just stay with me,” he mutters under his breath, over and over again. “don’t close your eyes. don’t fucking close your eyes on me.”

he knows hospitals aren’t an option. hospitals don’t work for people like you — people with blood on their hands, people like him. so he takes you to a private location, and pays for you to be privately attended to. he’s talking to you. low. soft. like if he can just keep you engaged, keep you anchored, he can fix you. “don’t think for a second you’re getting away from me,” he says, trying to sound confident, trying to sound calm. but it cracks. “you’re too much of a pain in my ass to just die on me, okay?”

the bandages are tight. the pain meds are there. but when you don’t respond, when you still look too pale, too still — he breaks. he can’t stop there, not now, not ever again. the fear that’s gnawing at his chest is unfamiliar. he doesn’t like it, so he drowns it. dives headfirst into revenge. the people who did this to you? they don’t just die. no. they’re tortured. billy goes into full punisher mode — ruthless, calculated, brutal. nothing is off-limits.

the nights are worse. he stays close, watches you like a hawk, like if he looks away, you’ll disappear. he doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s a fear in him now. one that claws at his insides, reminds him of all the things he’s lost before. he doesn’t let you go anywhere alone. not even for a second. when you try to go out, when you even mention getting back into the game too soon, he flips. “don’t you dare.” his hands grip your shoulders a little too tightly. “you’re not going anywhere. you almost fucking died. you’re not risking it again.”

if shit hits the fan and you’re caught in the crossfire again, if things go wrong, if you're too exposed, too vulnerable, billy goes feral. the change is instant, an animal’s rage flipping the switch in his brain. his body goes into autopilot as his mind snaps into pure chaos. without hesitation, he’s on the offensive. you’re the only thing that matters, and anyone who tries to get close to you, even just a second too long, is dead before they know what hit them.

he doesn’t give you time to breathe after that. the moment the adrenaline settles, billy’s back at your side. he’s close, too close. his hands roam over your body, making sure you’re intact, making sure you’re real. “are you hurt?” he asks, though he knows you’re not, he’s just making sure. his eyes don’t leave you for a second. his breath is still fast, ragged from the violence.

when you try to pull away from him, when you try to leave his arms or distance yourself even an inch, billy tightens his grip. his whole body freezes, and his gaze darkens. “don’t.” it’s low, dangerous. it’s a warning. and you can feel it. that slow, creeping panic that is threading itself into his soul. billy isn’t just holding you now, he’s clinging. because if you slip away again, if you pull too far from him, he’ll lose himself. and he knows it.

if you think you can get away to go out and continue your work he’s already planning how to stop you. every exit is blocked. every path you could take, every little crack in the world you could slip through, billy knows it. he knows because he’s thought about every possible way, and he’s ready for it. it’s not just that he wants to keep you close. it’s that he can’t breathe when you’re not around.

the possessiveness isn’t even the scariest thing about him. it’s his insecurity. billy russo knows he’s capable of destroying anything — and that includes you, if it comes down to it. “I’m the only one who can protect you,” he tells you in the dead of night, his face barely an inch away from yours. “no one else can. not like I can.” his presence is more a demand than an option.

his world is you. the only one who’s ever loved him. the thing that keeps him going, the thing that defines his decisions. no matter how violent, no matter how twisted, he’ll do anything to keep you.

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

the moment she finds out you’ve been hurt, she’s frozen. it hits her like a ton of bricks. when she gets the call, when she hears what happened, she can’t breathe for a second. her chest tightens. her hands shake, but she doesn’t let it show. she’s a professional. she’s been trained for this.

her first instinct is to get to you fast. dinah’s never been one to waste time. but when she sees you, when she takes in the severity of your injuries, something inside her snaps. that sharp edge that’s kept her moving forward, her ability to compartmentalize? gone. in its place is the cold, biting realization: this is all too familiar.

she fights to keep it together as she kneels beside you at the hospital, checking for signs of life. her hands hover above you, but she’s too afraid to touch you at first. afraid she’ll make it worse. but when she sees your eyes flicker open, when she hears you weakly call her name, she snaps into action. her voice is low, soothing— something she learned to use to keep people calm in the chaos of her work. “you’re okay,” she says, even if her voice shakes. “you’re gonna be okay.”

but the worry doesn’t fade. in fact, it just makes her more determined to hunt down the people who did this to you. she’s driven by vengeance. this isn’t about breaking the law or falling into chaos — it’s about justice. it’s about doing things the right way. she has to — she’s always believed in the system.

her flashbacks hit harder now. she thinks of sam, how he died, how she couldn’t stop it. every time she closes her eyes, she sees him. his blood. his empty eyes. she sees you in the same way, and the guilt starts to fester. she’s relentless in her search for answers, and every dead end, every failure to get closer to them, feels like she’s failing you all over again.

the guilt and anger bleed together in her dreams. she wakes up in cold sweats, her mind flashing back to that night, the night sam died, and how helpless she felt. then there’s you, and the helplessness is even worse. the thought that she couldn’t save you. that she might lose you too.

but when she gets closer, when she finally has the chance to make them pay, it’s not a feeling of triumph — it’s just a cold, hollow satisfaction. revenge, for dinah, doesn’t bring peace. it doesn’t bring closure. it just empties her further. she’s not sure if what she’s doing is right anymore, but she can’t stop herself. the justice she’s been chasing her whole life feels hollow now.

the weight of the revenge still hangs over her, even after she gets it. madani knows that she’s done what she had to do, but there’s no true peace. the law isn’t enough, and she’s not sure she’ll ever find solace. the trauma lingers, the flashbacks to sam, and the faces of those who hurt you haunting her every step. but she’ll keep going. because that’s what she does. she survives. she endures. and for you? she’ll keep fighting.

⏜︵ DAVID / MICRO. 𐂯

fear grips him hard. you’re everything to him — he can’t even process the reality of what’s going on. he tries to call you, but there’s no answer. panic sinks in deeper. he’s trying to keep it together, but it’s all falling apart. he can’t lose you.

he knows he can’t do this alone. he’s smart, he’s good with computers, but this is beyond his control. so, without even thinking, he picks up his phone and dials frank. he needs help — real help. not the kind of tech solutions he usually works with, but someone who can find the people who did this and make them pay. frank picks up. david’s voice cracks when he speaks, but he tries to keep the desperation in check. the words spill out of him, but he knows frank doesn’t need any more details. frank doesn’t need him to explain — it’s always been a silent understanding between them. frank will help.

frank’s response is immediate. there’s no hesitation in his voice. “get to me. now.” david doesn’t need to be told twice. he hangs up, grabs his bag, and doesn’t stop moving until he’s at frank’s location. he’s shaking, from fear, from the overwhelming guilt and helplessness clawing at him. when david finally arrives it’s a blur of frantic energy. he’s pacing, his mind spiraling through a hundred different thoughts at once. frank listens, david explains what little he knows, but it’s clear he’s not thinking straight. his focus is broken, distracted. he keeps glancing over his shoulder as though expecting someone to come after him. frank doesn’t judge him for his panic. he knows david’s been thrown into a situation he’s not prepared for.

with castle at his side, david dives headfirst into research for revenge. he’s typing away at the computer, pulling up every piece of data he can get his hands on, but he’s still not in control. every lead he follows feels like a dead end. he’s so close, and yet it’s so far. he feels helpless again, like he’s failing you. frank knows exactly what to do, starts tracking down leads the way only he knows how, and it’s not long before david starts feeling that old rush of adrenaline. david watches as frank works, and a part of him feels sick. he doesn’t like the things frank does to get answers — he never has — but in this moment, he doesn’t care. he wants the people who did this to you to suffer. they will pay.

when he gets back to you, he’s exhausted, drained. he holds you close, his fingers trembling. the adrenaline’s worn off, and now he’s just done. his mind keeps running through what happened, but he’s too tired to make sense of it all. all he knows is you’re here, you’re alive, and somehow, somehow, that’s enough for him.

even with everything settled, the guilt never goes away. david knows he couldn’t have done it without frank, and that thought haunts him. he hates that frank had to be the one to pull him out of his panic, to get him to this point. he feels weaker for it. but he’s trying to hold it together for you. he’ll always try to hold it together for you.

⏜︵ JAMES WESLEY. 𐂯

it’s like his whole world stops. wesley is used to being in control, to managing every detail of his life with precision, but this is different. you are different. you’re the one person he can’t control, the one person he’s allowed himself to care about, and now you’re in danger. it shatters his calm, makes everything feel like it’s slipping through his fingers.

the moment he hears what happened his first thought is to get to you. immediately, he starts making plans, pulling strings, organizing everything in his mind with military precision. nothing is left to chance. he won’t leave anything to luck or fate. he’s already running through every possible solution in his head — getting you to safety, finding out who did this, and making them pay.

when he sees you hurt, it’s worse than he expected. his eyes narrow, scanning you for injuries, his expression hardening. this shouldn’t be happening. you shouldn’t be in this state. he’s quick to assess the situation — if you’re still conscious, he’ll call your name, trying to keep you awake and alert, reassuring you that everything will be taken care of. but deep down, he’s losing control. this is his fault. he wasn’t there when you needed him, and that thought claws at his gut.

he doesn’t waste time on emotions, at least not outwardly. wesley is all about efficiency. he’s trying to keep his cool because he knows if he loses it, if he shows any sign of weakness, the situation could spiral even further. he pulls you close, his tone sharp, “we’re going to get you help. stay with me.” there’s no comfort in his words, no softness. just cold, calculated action.

he won’t take you to a hospital. he’s already got another plan in place, one that he knows will guarantee your safety. he’s not leaving your side for a second, and he’s certainly not letting you be treated by anyone who could jeopardize the situation. he’ll take you to one of fisks safe houses, somewhere he’s already set up for emergencies. he’ll make sure you’re patched up, but not by a doctor, by someone he trusts, someone he knows won’t ask questions.

the person who did this is as good as dead. wesley doesn’t even need to think twice about what he’s going to do. the moment he finds out who’s behind this, they’ll pay. he’s methodical about it, just like everything else in his life. he’ll track them down, piece together every detail, and make sure no one escapes. they’ll regret crossing him, crossing you. he’ll track down every lead with obsessive precision. while youre recovering he’ll monitor every movement, every conversation, making sure no one can get close enough to hurt you again. he’s already planning, moving pieces on a mental chessboard, keeping you protected in ways you can’t even fathom. it’s almost clinical the way he works, and it’s terrifying. there’s no room for failure. when he catches the person who hurt you, there’s no mercy. wesley doesn’t do mercy. there’s no room for hesitation. he’ll handle them swiftly, in the way he’s always been trained to — calm, efficient, without remorse.

once it’s over, once the danger has passed, he’ll find himself restless. he won’t relax. not fully. the guilt gnaws at him. no matter how much he tells himself he did everything right, that you’re safe now, he’ll never fully shake the feeling that he could’ve done more. he’s been trained to protect, to control, and yet, in this one instance, he couldn’t stop what happened. it eats at him. he wasn’t fast enough.

when he checks on you later, there’s an unreadable look in his eyes. he’s there, by your side, but it’s not the gentle reassurance you might expect. he’s not soft about it. he’s focused on your well-being, but there’s that edge to him, an intensity that makes it clear he’s not quite done. not done with protecting you, not done with his need to control the situation. he’ll stay close, but it’s not because he’s worried for you. it’s because he can’t bear the idea of losing you or letting anyone get close enough to hurt you again.

if you ask him about it he’ll brush it off with his usual coldness. “it’s done. you’re safe. that’s all that matters.” there’s no emotion in his voice, no sign of the internal battle he’s fighting. because for james wesley, admitting weakness, admitting fear, isn’t an option. he’ll never show that side of himself.

but deep down, the fear never really goes away. it’s not just the fear of losing you, it’s the fear that he’s not good enough to protect you in the way he needs to. he’ll bury it. he’ll hide it. but the cracks will start to show, just a little. and as time goes on, he’ll start to wonder if he’ll ever truly be able to shield you from the world that’s out there.

⏜︵ MUSE. 𐂯

everything else fades away. he’s used to the violence of his world, the chaos of being part of hell’s kitchen, but seeing you in this state — broken, bleeding, close to death — shatters him. he’s good at shutting down his emotions, but this? it’s like a punch to the gut.

his first instinct is to move you, get you out of there. he doesn’t care about the blood or the injuries; he just needs to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from the people who did this. he’s not gentle when he picks you up. muse’s hands tremble, but his movements are urgent, almost frantic, because this isn’t just any injury — it’s you. the one person who’s shown him a hint of softness, the person who doesn’t treat him like a joke. and now, you’re this. he hates it.

when he gets you to a safe house or wherever he’s decided you need to be, he’s not leaving your side. he’s patching you up as best he can, trying to stop the bleeding with hands that shake. he’s muttering to himself, cursing, moving like a man possessed. he knows this isn’t going to be enough, that the injuries are too severe for him to handle, but he can’t bring himself to call for help. not yet. not when he’s still trying to keep control over this.

when he finds out who did this to you it’s bad news for them. muse isn’t the type to sit around and wait for someone else to fix things. he’s always been the kind of guy who takes care of problems on his own terms. and if someone hurt you? well, there’s nothing stopping him from hunting them down and making them wish they’d never laid a finger on you. he’ll go after them with everything he’s got, no mercy, no hesitation, draining every last drop of blood from their body.

he gets reckless. the more he tries to keep his head together, the more the anger builds. he wants answers, he wants vengeance, but most of all, he wants to fix things for you. he’ll keep pushing until he finds out who did this, and when he does, he won’t hold back.

he’s constantly checking on you, watching you like a hawk. when you wake up, he’s there, hovering over you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, panic and concern.

as much as he tries to stay detached, you’re changing him. the more time he spends with you, the more he cares. it’s not something he’s used to, not something he can easily admit, but it’s there. you’re important to him in a way he never thought possible.

started 4.26.2025. finished 4.27.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[astraljedi]

Fresh Out The Slammer (Frank Castle Imagine)

Summary: Frank Castle has been the only consistent man in your life and even though there were certain times he wasn’t in the picture, his presence somehow lingered into all of your relationships. There wasn’t a cure for a man like him, and you didn’t need one. 

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of harassment (not to reader), some violence, curse words, SMUT, Oral (M recieving), P in V. Use protection my loves

Word Count: 2.6k

Song: Fresh Out The Slammer by Taylor Swift

A/N: This will be officially my first published work for Frank Castle that was requested. Let me know what you think and some feedback would be appreciated.

-

Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to

“Did he ever really know you?” Karen asks, handing me a glass of wine.

I shrug, grasping the chilled glass. “It was always his place, his friends, his favorite restaurants. He never made the effort to be in my life.”

Devin was my ex—a trust fund, high-maintenance brat who didn’t have “struggle” or “debt” in his vocabulary. We were an odd pair, but somehow, we lasted long enough to make it miserable. I cared for him but didn’t love him like I thought.

“I’m sorry I neglected our friendship. I shouldn’t have put up with someone like that just for those rare sweet moments,” I say, grabbing her hand. “You guys told me countless times. I just couldn’t see it until recently.”

“I never stopped being in your corner. I never will.” Karen smiles, squeezing my hand in reassurance.

“Thank you.” I try to keep my tears at bay as I sip my wine.

“If you want to change the subject, I get it. But you never told me about the night at the restaurant."

I throw my head back with a groan, sinking deeper into Karen’s comfy couch. “You should’ve seen Frank’s face when he realized it was me in that alley.”

A few months ago

I stormed through the restaurant’s back door, slipping into a horrid-smelling alley. “Fuck.” I swore, running my hands through my hair, ruining its perfectly styled state.

“Why do you always act so absurd around my friends? That was uncalled for.” Devin shouted as he followed me out.

“Uncalled for? He was harassing the waitress, Devin. She looked uncomfortable.”

“It’s none of our business.” He stepped closer, his body hovering over my small, shivering frame.

“I’m not going to stay quiet when I see him—or your friends—harassing a girl who clearly didn’t want to be touched or spoken to like that.” I stared straight into his angry eyes.

He grabbed my arm, yanking me forward. I gasped, his sudden, bruising grip catching me off guard.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut. Sit there and look pretty—that’s all you’re good for. You might’ve just ruined one of my biggest deals because you can’t look away for once.”

“Fuc—”

My words were cut off as I was ripped from Devin’s grasp, and he was slammed against the brick wall.

“You don’t talk to a woman like that.” A rough, familiar voice growled.

Frank.

Frank fucking Castle.

“Let him go, Frank. Please.” It was not like I didn’t want Devin to get what he deserved, because I didn’t want to add more to the growing and already heated argument.

Devin wasn’t worth it—not anymore.

Frank glanced over his shoulder, his forearm pinning Devin against the filthy wall. “Sweetheart?” The moment his eyes landed on mine, his face completely shifted. His eyes scanned me, making sure I wasn’t hurt.

“He’s not worth it.”

Devin struggled to push Frank away, but his strength was nothing compared to Frank’s. Frank rolled his eyes and shoved him back aggressively. “I suggest you learn how to treat a woman.”

“Devin, don’t—”

But Devin was already swinging.

Frank caught his fist in midair. Devin was slammed to the ground in seconds, his suit jacket tearing on impact. Like the coward he was, he scrambled to his feet and scurried back into the restaurant.

“That better not be your boyfriend.” Frank huffed, his eyes raking over me. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t look at him. If I did, I’d melt.

“Sweetheart.” He reached for me. 

I stepped back.

It was always the same with us. A never-ending cycle. We’d find each other, crash into one another, then fall apart. Again and again.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” I whispered. “You made sure of that, Frank.”

I turned my back on him and walked away.

He didn’t stop me. 

He never did.

Karen’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Has he called you?”

I blinked a few times, trying to catch my breath. He wasn’t even here, but the thought of him set my body on fire.

“You know he won’t. Frank doesn’t call anyone.” I drained the last drop of wine, setting the glass down.

Karen smirked. “He calls you.”

I rolled my eyes and nudged her arm.

“I have to go. I’ve got inventory in the morning—something I can’t keep ignoring.”

“You’re your own boss. Can’t you do it later?”

“I wish. But it’ll take all day, and I must start before sunrise.” I grabbed my things, and Karen walked me to the door. “If you stop by before work, I’ll make your coffee. And a treat—for listening.”

“I won’t say no to a treat.” She chuckled. “Text me when you’re home.”

I waved and made my way down her apartment stairs. The chilly New York air slapped me in the face as soon as I stepped outside.

He calls you. 

Karen’s voice echoes in my thoughts.

I shouldn’t call; the train stop to Frank Castle Town had its final stop a year ago. I couldn’t fall back into him, not when he wasn’t going to settle down, not when he couldn’t say I love you, even though the words lingered on his tongue.

I shouldn’t risk it; the wine in my system has hacked and taken over my will. 

Fuck it.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number that wasn’t saved, but I had it memorized.

“Sweetheart?” It only rang twice. His low, warm, familiar voice rang through my ear, and my brain shut off instantly. “Are you okay?” he asks. I hear him shuffling in a hurry when I don’t answer quickly. 

“I’m good.” I smiled. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

Even though I couldn’t see him, that rare, child-like smile was there. The one smile I have the pleasure of witnessing a couple of times tangled in sheets or early in the morning while making breakfast. 

“Darling, what do you need?”

The walk home was short, but adrenaline ran through my veins. “I need you. I always need you.”

There was a moment of silence. He was debating whether it was a good idea. Even though I debated it myself, it was too late for us to return from the rekindled flame. 

“Where are you?”

“A block from my place.” It was only half past eleven. A few people were returning from their commute, and some were getting ready for the night. 

“It’s late for you to be walking alone.”

“I can handle myself.” 

“I know. Still.” Back then, Frank would always try to walk me home whenever he wasn’t caught up in something. Always saying that the streets weren’t safe and that I shouldn’t risk my safety recklessly. 

“Why should I be scared? You’re already on your way, aren’t you?”

The sound of his low chuckle making me lose my footing. “Something like that.”

I reached my door. “You hear me typing in the code?”

“I do.”

“You still remember it?”

“You know I do, sweetheart.” Impossible for him to forget the countless of nights he spent over or slipped in when he needed patching up. 

I walk up the few stairs to my door and unlock it. “I’ll be waiting.”

I hung up.

I locked the door behind me, tossed my bag onto the table, and kicked my shoes off. My hair fell loose as I shrugged off my jeans, leaving only my oversized white dress shirt.

Anticipation hummed through my body as I dimmed the lights. I can’t remember when my body felt like this, not even with Devin. 

Nothing compared to Frank, the way his hands fit perfectly on my hips, how his warm breath sent chills to my core while he was between my legs, torturing me before the pleasure. 

He could taunt me, mark me with his teeth, and use me however he liked, and I never got tired of it. I would beg for more like it wasn’t enough. 

The sound of light knocking made me jump, but I settled back to reality. I barely opened the door before Frank was inside, with one hand on my waist and the other shielding my head as he pressed me against the closed door.

We didn’t move or talk. Our lips hovered, his clothed, warm body pressed against mine. He had me pinned, his knee settled between my legs. It felt like a lifetime since the last time he had me like this. 

Frank closed his eyes, taking in my scent. Like I could vanish any second from his tight grasp. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, my lips brushing his cheek and down to his jawline. “Please,” I beg. 

I didn’t have to tell him twice. His lips caught mine in a desperate kiss. His hand on my hip traveled up my body and landed on my neck, his thumb caressing my jaw. 

I needed this. I needed him. 

The moment his lips crash into mine, there is no world outside. It’s just him and I. I tug at his hair, and he moans. I slip my tongue past his lips and grind my hips into his. He lets me have this moment of control; he enjoys letting me think I’m in control, but he will slip and take charge any second. 

I savor this moment between us. With him, life is unpredictable. One moment I can have him kissing and praising me. The next, he's pushing me away because he can't fathom losing me even though I'm full in with him.

It always comes to this, because no one compares to him. There isn’t a moment I don’t compare his desperate kisses while in other relationships. How his lips moved against mine in sync. There was no fighting or figuring out our movements when our lips moved independently. 

Frank Castle is complicated, hard to read. But moments like these with Frank weren't complicated. They were easy.

He was my Frank.

Nobody was bold enough to push me to my limits like he did. He was rough, just like I wanted it. I didn’t need to ask; he knew what I needed and could take. And I could take anything he would give me. 

Frank let me push him towards my couch, lips never pulling away. Sitting on his lap, I traveled my lips to his jaw and down to his neck, biting and kissing. I unzipped his jacket, pulled his shirt off, and tossed it to the floor. 

His palms rested on my hips, grinding me against his growing erection. I sigh, throwing my head back at the friction against his jeans. My hands land on his hard chest, moving my hips as his palms land on my ass, squeezing the flesh. 

I needed his jeans off now. My hand landed on his waist and undid his jeans with ease. I kneeled to the floor, pulling off his jeans and boxers with me, freeing his erection. “Sweetheart,” Frank mumbles, reaching for me, but I stop him. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” He groans in response. I wrap my lips around his tip, my hand on the base as I suck the precum already leaking. I take him halfway into my mouth and pull away, spreading my saliva to the rest of his length with my tongue.

“Shit,” Frank swears as our eyes meet, and I take him back into my mouth and trace the veins underneath his cock. I wrapped my hands on the length I couldn’t fit as I sucked and licked, the tip hitting the back of my throat. His hand massages my shoulder before he runs from my neck to fist my hair in his hands. I moan, my free hand landing on his thigh for support. I grip his thigh as he pushes himself deeper into my mouth, making me gag from his size. 

I breathe through my nose, hollowing my cheeks. I feel him loosen his grip on my hair, and his hands land on my elbows, pulling me gently away from him. “Not yet, darling.” He spins me around, and I stand between his legs. He slowly grips the material from my underwear on my hips and slides them down my legs slowly. 

He pulls me down onto his lap, my ass hard on his erection. I whimpered, throwing my head back as it landed on his shoulder. Frank kisses my cheek and spreads my legs wide, letting them hang from his legs. My breath hitched as his other hand landed on my stomach, slowly making its way to my soaked heat. 

“You’re already wet.” Frank doesn’t need to guess; he already knows it. “From when you called me, I bet you were squeezing your legs shut, looking for friction by just hearing my voice.” He purrs against my ear. His fingers slip downwards, his fingers getting coated by my juices instantly. “My poor thing, no one knows how to please you like I do.” 

“Frank,” I whimper as his fingers circled my clit. My hand lands on his thigh, my nails digging into his skin. His other hand joins the other, slipping two fingers inside me. “That’s it, sweetheart. Does that feel good?” 

I moan, closing my eyes from all the sensations going through my body at once. “I’m not going to last, Frank.” I barely get the words out, squirming against his chest. 

My heated body shivers, my walls gripping tightly to Franks’s girthy fingers. He brings his lips to mine, slipping his tongue between my lips as his fingers curl inside of me. 

My body shakes as the apartment is filled with my loud moans and whimpers. “That’s it, sweetheart.” 

I try to catch my breath, but Frank doesn’t let me see a breath before he has me lying on the couch. “I’m not done with you, darling,” he says, nibbling on the skin of my shoulder. He aligns himself, only pushing the tip first. I grip his biceps, my shaking legs still not recovered from my last orgasm. 

“I know you can take it. You were made for me.” Frank mumbles against my skin, pushing himself deeper. I press my forehead on his shoulder, my walls squeezing him, and he hasn’t even moved. I hear him swear, trying to keep himself from losing it.

“Baby, I need you to move,” I beg, a moan caught in my throat.

“I got you, sweetheart.” Frank’s hand lands on my hips, picking up the pace. It wasn’t gentle; I didn’t want him to be gentle with me. My eyes rolled back into my head as he fucked me harder into the couch.

Frank lifts my leg over his shoulder, letting himself get deeper. Both our moans fill the small apartment from the change of position. He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as his hips pounded harder into me. 

“F-frank, baby, cum with me.” 

Frank opens his eyes, and they land on mine; I wrap my hand on the back of his neck and bring his lips into mine as my climax shatters. Frank groans, filling me up with his warm cum as my walls clenched, milking him until the last drop.

He gently removed my leg from his shoulder as we both panted, trying to catch our breaths. I press my small hand on his cheek, and he melts to my touch. “I missed you,” I admit, too high on the man I can’t seem to push away. 

Frank doesn’t reply. He presses a kiss to my forehead and slips out slowly. I ignore the ache in my chest from the lack of answer. I know he missed me, but I needed him to say it.

My body felt like jelly, too worn out to even move. “I got you.” This is my favorite version of Frank Castle, the gentle and affectionate Frank. He slips his boxers on and heads to the bathroom. He comes out with a wet towel and sits between my legs. 

Frank is the only man who cares about aftercare and is the first to do it for me. Once he’s finished, he pulls his shirt over my naked torso and picks me up in his arms to take me to my bed.

“Stay,” I whispered, my eyes fighting to shut, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I wanted to take him in, the sight of the man I could never move on from. 

“Wasn’t planning to, Sweetheart.” He quickly kisses my lips and covers our bodies with my cooled comforter. His chest press against my back, his arms lazily over my waist keeping me close to him.

I relax into his touch, inhaling his scent. The last time he was here, the smell of Frank Castle lingered around my apartment for months. Making me miserable from the lack of his presence, heart aching but I never dared to do something about it. It kept me feeling safe and maybe in the back of my head, I knew we would end up finding each other, like we always did. We could never stay away for that long.

Here we go again.

[softieekayy]

Reid-iculous

Past!spencer Reid x reader x Frank Langdon

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: I just saw that the requester wanted an OBGYN reader and I completely glossed over that and made the reader and Emerg doctor. I will rewrite this if you hate it, I’m so sorry 😭

The morning dew rested gently on the grass, most of the world still sleeping in the early hours of the morning. That, unfortunately, was not the case of the beloved health care or emergency in Pittsburg. The rustling of sheets slowly woke Frank from his slumber and in a still sleepy haze, he threw his arm over his beautiful fiancee, trying to soak in this feeling, the next time he’ll have it is in another 15 hours. Gruelling work it was, the trauma bay in the PTMC but this is what they chose and it’s too late to change. Or well, that's what the woman tracing light patterns on his back would say.

“Frank.” she calls out, voice as sweet as honey and he wonders, how on earth could anyone give up on such a sweet thing like her. “Hm.” he grunts, already knowing what the next words are. Frank lets out a louder groan, turning himslef onto his stomach as she giggles and places a small kiss on his forehead before making her way into the bathroom, humming a tune under her breath. Frank lets out a sigh, sitting up and trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes as he joins her in the bathroom.

He watches the younger woman for a minute, knowing what her morning routine by heart but still always admiring. “How are you always so cheery in the morning?” the questions leaves his mouth before his brain has the time to process it. His fiancee, in the midst of washing her face, stares at him through the mirror and responds, “drugs.” a dead serious look on her face as the tall, dark haired man snorts. Seeing that, she lets a small smile of her own slip.

“But seriously Frank, we are going to be late if we don’t get in the shower now.” she tells him, tugging the white t-shirt she wore to bed over her head and tying up her hair. Frank admires her for a second too long, the swell of her breasts and the way her curves looked in the lighting of the bathroom. He needed someone to pinch him before he decided that this was just another wonderful dream.

“You gonna keep staring loverboy?” (Y/n) asks, peeking her head out of the shower and frank sheds his clothes in lightning speed before joining her. The hot water feeling amazing on their skin, a last moment of relaxation before they both tense up at work again.

“Fuck-” the sentance cut off as a student running past the couple accidentally bumped into (Y/n), luckily frank caugh her before any major injuries could happen, telling her that he didn’t need his day starting off by bringing her to the hospital for a CT because she hit her head. The shorter woman just glared at frank who grinned like he found a pot of gold. The couple made their way into the hospital, seeing most of the day shift members already present and the night shift just wrapping up final details on cases before letting the day shift take over. Frank and (y/n) walked over to their lockers, already seeing samira there, waiting for her best friend.

“Damn, looks like your wife gets you for the rest of the day” Frank mutters as he takes the bag his fiancee hands him, making her way towards the other woman. “We haven’t even started for the day and you’re already stealing her from me,” Frank whines like a petulant child while both woman snicker. Samira throws her arm over the other woman’s shoulders and pulls her in, “You get her 24 hours a day Langdon, let me have her for these 15,” Samira tells him, making his frown deepen as they make their way over to Dana and Robby at the nurse’s station.

Robby looked at frank once, then again, laughing lightly at his sour expression.

“Jesus, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” He huffed out as the younger man muttered something about stealing time under his breath. Dana, being a woman and smarter than the two men who stood before her, “it’s probably because dr. mohan is hogging dr. (y/l/n), again.” she huffed out, a smile on her face as she watched the two women, thick as thieves and close as sisters. Samira was showing the other woman a patient chart, asking for some advice on what to say to the parent who wouldn’t listen or acknowledge the proper care instructions. (y/n)’s eyebrows pinched together the more she listen to samira talk about the ridiculous parent.

“They come here for our help but won’t take our advice, what are we doing here then” The younger woman rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, red painted lips curled into a disapproving frown. Samira only shook her head and muttered a small “i know” before leaving the other woman to deal with her patients.

“Morning Dana, Dr. Robby.” she greeted kindly, a smile on her face and a chai tea in one hand. Dana smiled at the young doctor before handing her a patient chart, a teen boy with an open tibia fracture in room 302. The younger woman thanked her before making her way over, her shadow for the day today being Dennis Whitaker. She quite liked the young man, he reminded her of a drowned rat but like a cute one. She had a thing for strays, Frank Langdon would and will heavily attest to that.

Opening the door, she walked in and introduced herself and Dennis.

“Hello Ryan, I’m Dr. (y/l/n) and this is Dr.Whitaker. Do you mind if he observes and helps us today?” She asks kindly, a soft smile on her face and when the boy shakes his head no, (y/n) motions for Dennis to go ahead with the examination and diagnosis, gently helping and guiding him when his tone wavered in unsureness. Ryan was a champ, the more the two doctors talked to him, the more impressive he became. They found out that he obtained the fracture from playing football, it was practice but he still took it seriously. An hour or so later, he was all wrapped up and ready to go home. Thanking both the doctors with a huge grin on his face as his mom beside him gramaced a little.

On the otherside of the ER, Frank Langdon stood still, chart in hand as he looked awestruck by his beautiful wife to be. She has to be the most gorgeous creature frank has ever laid his eyes on. The way her smile lights up a whole room needs to be studied but more so the fact that she’s so warm. Like sunshine personified. Everyone and everything finds itself drawn to her presence, like a moth drawn to a flame. Unbeknownst to him though, the two biggest gossips in the room are watching him diligently.

“He still looks at her like it’s his first time meeting her.” Pearlah says, not moving her eyesight from Frank. Princess, who stood beside her looking at a patient chart hums in response.

“Do you rember the first time they met?” Princess laughs, the memory of a slightly younger verson of Frank playing in their head. He had tried so hard to not catch feelings for the younger resident but failed miserably and everyone around them could see it. He was walking backwards while talking to her, just so he can keep looking at her face and made sure she stuck by him everyday. He was awestruck then and he was awestruck now. Not much had changed.

“Um..Dr.Langdon..?” Mel’s voice brought Frank back from whatever fantasy played in his head at the moment. He looked down at the blonde resident and sighed, aplogising for bring so distracted but the former only smiled and waved her hand, saying that it’s not a big deal. (Y/n) looked up at him from where she sat at her desk, flashing Frank a warm smile before turning her attention back to what Dennis was saying. Frank swore to every god in existence that his heart stopped but before he could say anything to anyone or even may his way over to her, the speakers started blasting.

“Trauma team to the ER. GSW incoming, female, late 20’s.” That’s all the doctors need to hear before they start preparing themselves, gowns and gloves on. Frank and (Y/n) move in sync, clearly and silently stating that they’ll be the ones to take over this case. The ambulance comes quick and on the gurney lays a blonde woman that the young doctor knows too well. Jennifer Jereau. Her best friend at one point when she was dating her co-worker.

“JJ?” the nickname falls out of her mouth before she’s able to stop it. To her, it feels like everything in the world has stopped movin. It also meant that if JJ was here then so was he. She paused for the slightest second but that didn’t go unnoticed by Frank but the years of training took over, “On my count,” she barked out, her voice authoritative and on edge, “One, two, three.” The team transferred JJ to the bed as they began to check her vitals.

“The gunshot is through and through.” She yells out as the team prepares for what’s to be done next. Pearlah administers the IV and morphine as Frank begins to work on his finacee’s former friend. Not that he know’s who she is anyways. Before she could start helping again, the doors bust open and a very worried Dennis stands there, panting as if he’d just run a marathon saying something about a federal agent and urgent care.

“Go.” Frank tells her, not looking up from JJ. (Y/n) stands there for a moment, uncertain but frank reassures her, tells her that he’s got JJ and that she will be okay. The young doctor feels slightly comforted at his words before taking off the gown and gloves, making her way towards the very recognizable team.

“Fuck- I uh, need a minute.” She tells the young student doctor as her lips curl down into a frown and an uneasiness takes over her. She feels like she’s going to be sick. Dennis looks worried and opens his mouth to say something before she shoots him a look and he walks away, mumbling something about bringing back a bottle of water. Nothing in the ED department goes unnoticed by anyone and this time, it was Robby. He watched as she took in deep shaky breaths, clearly trying to ground herself. To anyone else it may have looked like it was a hard case but to him, he knew it was something else that bothered her.

“Hey kid, you okay.” Robby’s soft voice broke (y/n) out from her train of thoughts as she looked up at the senior attending, simply nodding her head, hoping that Robby would take the hint. Spoiler alert, he didn’t. Robby crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a look, she called it the disappointed dad look. Looking up at him she rolled her eyes, knowing that she would have to explain her little breakdown.

“It’s uh, my ex. And his team, they’re here.” She told him, voice wavering a little. Today was a great day. In fact, she had a date later tonight with her hot tub, a bottle of wine but now she has to see her ex. Spencer Fucking Reid. The man who built her up only to cheat on her emotionally and then tear her down. “Fuck, kid-” Robby’s cut off by her shaking her head. The last thing she needs is Robby sending someone else with Whitaker and then this becoming the new hot gossip.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him before looking around, “Whitaker!” She waves him over and he hands her the patient chart, the duo making their way over to the team. Emily is the first one to spot her, eyebrows furrowed and biting her bottom lip, all actions the brunette was familiar with very well. She nudges Morgan beside her who nearly drops his drink. Yeah they haven’t seen her for 6 years but damn does she look better than ever.

“(Y/n)..how have you been?” Emily was the first one to speak up, wincing a little as she did so and that did’t go unnoticed by both doctors as Whitaker immediately began to ask Emily questions before deducing that she had bruised ribs, a concussion and would need a x-ray and CT scan, just to make sure there isn’t underlying damage. She pretended to not feel the heated glare from a certain tall, lanky brunette piercing the side of her face as she gently held Hotch’s face in her hands, making sure that it wasn’t broken.

“Are you always this silent, doctor?” Spencer’s question cut the air sharply, his voice nearly suffocating her. He spat out the word doctor as if it were a slur and maybe to him, it was. The young doctor eyed him sharply, choosing to bite her tongue and not cause a scene, especially here.

Spencer Reid however, could not keep his mouth shut, even after he got the glaringly angry stare from Aaron Hotchner.

“You know, I always imagined you to be surrounded by the soft glow of a delivery room. This fluorescent nightmare suits you though. Stark, cold, and sterile…just like you.” His words cut deeply into the doctor and she pauses what she’s doing, letting Whitaker take over.

“And you haven’t changed a little. 6 damn years Doctor Reid and you’re still the man I left.” She hisses back, arms crossed against her chest and the fluorescent light catches the stone on her ring finger, Spencer’s eyes darting towards it momentarily as he scoffs.

“I’m surprised you managed to lock anyone down with your attitude.” Spencer hisses and before (Y/n) can say anything else Frank enters the room, sensing the hostile environment his eyes dart between the short doctor and the tall lanky one.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice low and hesitant. To be honest, Frank didn’t give a flying damn about the other people in the room as long as his lovely fiancee was okay.

“Perfectly peachy…” She mutters, handing him the patient chart and making her way to have some cool down time. Robby caught her eye as she left, raising his eyebrow to ask if she’s okay to which she rolled her eyes. Not at him, no, at Spencer. He was a thorn in her side that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

The only place she could find dark and quiet enough was the break room. She was surprised no one was in there but grateful nonetheless. (Y/n) closed her eyes, needing to rest them for a minute before she heard the door open and close, hoping that it was someone just here to grab a quick snack. The sound of the chair being pulled out from across made her nervous and she hoped to god that it wasn’t Robby who followed her in.

“So..i heard the little spat you had.” Samira’s voice made the younger woman’s eyes snap open as she looked her best friend. She groaned, letting her head fall back. Samira patted her knee sympathetically. When (y/n) first started off at PTMC, she was matched into the OBGYN program before deciding that it wasn’t for her and switching into Trauma and since that day, her and Samira have been glued to the hip. Sisters in everything but blood or as Frank and the rest of the ER department likes to call them, work wives.

“I just don’t understand why he’d say that here, while I’m working. He doesn’t seem to realize that I’m not the same person I was 6 years ago but he still is.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration before tying it up again. Samira nods in undertsnding, also curious as to why such a hotshot profiler couldn’t be respectful to his ex at work.

(Y/n) pauses, looking at Samira and raising her eyebrow, “shouldn’t you be with patients?” Samira waves her off, telling her that Victoria was more than capable to be on her own for 15 minutes. The younger doctor nodded as they both sipped on a box of apple juice provided by Samira diligently. They sat together for 5 more minutes before Samira patted her shoulder and kissed her cheek before leaving, telling her to not lose her mindnfully. (Y/n) swatted at her best friend at that while laughing. She threw the empty apple juice box in the trash before leaving, sighing quietly.

“You disappeared for a bit.”

“Jesus fucking christ-” Frank’s laughter cut off her sentance as she swatted him on the shoulder, scolding him about scaring her. Frank stopped, looking at his baby seriously, taking her hand in his, “baby, are you okay?” Frank’s question made her fall silent, the warmth from his hand keeping her grounded. She looked up at him, mouth parted slightly, “Yeah Frankie, I’ll be okay.” She tells him yet her words fail to soothe Frank. He nods his head, kisses her forehead and tells her to kick ass in the ER before leaving to attened to his own duties.

“Hey, there you are.” Dennis exhales in relief. (Y/n) says a quick sorry and promises to make it up to him with some delicious donuts. Dennis smiles and tells her that it’s not a big deal and that the ‘scary law enforcement agents’ are all patched up and okay. She smiled brightly at him before patting his back as a thank you and made her way over to them. Out of everyone she missed Emily and Hotch the most. Emily was her Samira and Hotch her Robby.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft as she greeted Emily and Hotch, Spencer simply rolled his eyes, “Oh look, Princess here is finally over her temper tantrum and wants to be a doctor again.” All eyes snapped onto him the moment the words left his mouth.

“Jesus christ Spencer what’s your deal? It has been 6 damn years since we broke up. LET IT GO. You can’t come into MY workplace, antagonize me and then pray I don’t say anything. Because from what it looks like, you’re the only one that hasn’t moved in more than half a decade. Hot shot profiler and still can’t let go of the past. What’s next, are you going to start claiming that i haunt your nightmares or that I’m a witch who put a spell on you? MOVE ON!” Her snapping wasn’t on anyone’s list today except maybe Frank and Samira’s who passed a $20 bill to him. Robby and Dana just looked at eachother, Dana hiding her face behind an ipad but everyone could still see her shoulders shaking from laughter while Robby ran a hand down his face, trying to conceal his laughter as well. Trinity, Princess and Pearlah gossiped in Tagalog while Victora and Dennis looked like scared Victorian children seeing light.

Spencer could only look at her while scoffing. “Don’t scoff at me Spencer, leave the hospital. You’ve been treated and there’s no reason for you to stay.” She hissed out, not wanting to be disrespected any longer. Spencer looked at her for a second before he shoved his way out. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then he’ll be treated like one. Emily smiled at her and patted her arm, making a promise for them to catch up and left as well, the rest of the team following behind them.

(Y/n) sighed and made her way over to the nurses station where Dana and Robby stood watching her, a smile on Dana’s face. The younger of the three looked at them, exhaustion painting her face as clear as day as they all stared at eachother.

“No.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything.” Dana stuttered out with a smile on her face as she was met with a deadpan stare.

“You don’t have to. I can read your mind.” Dana’s smile didn’t waver and she just pulled the young doctor into a motherly side hug, kissing her forehead. She looked at Robby who looked at her, she gave him her signature ‘dad i swear i didn’t do anything wrong’ smile and he sighed for what felt like a millionth time.

“I am required to send you home, especially after an emotional outburst like that,” Robby paused, looking at her, his voice dropping into a whisper, “but since you’re my favourite resident ( daughter but he’d never admit that), you can stay. Just go take a 30.” At his words she tries not to squeal and gives Robby and overly exaggerated fist bump that he recepriocates awkwardly before heading to the break room.

“That’s quite a scene you caused there.” (Y/n) perked up at her fiance’s voice and teasing tone as he came to join her in the break room, he pulled the chair out beside her and sat down. She smiled at him and Frank took her hand in his own, letting it rest on his knee as he pushed her favourite sandwich towards her.

“I know you baby, and that means I know you haven’t eaten.” Frank tells her, going as far to unwrap the sandwich for her. One thing about Frank Langdon is that he will always take care and baby his fiancee, not because he thinks that she can’t take care of herself, no, because she works so damn hard and what type of man will he be if he doesn’t take care of her.

Unbeknownst to the couple, pair of eyes watched their interaction closely.

“How much do you want to bet she’ll be pregnant a year after marriage.” Pearlah asks Princess who shook her head.

“A year? Are you insane, it’ll be right after they get married.” Princess responded, her voice confident. Pearlah side eyed her for anminute before passing her a $50 bill, starting a whole new betting pool.

Tagging: @madeupinmyhead because I did “steal” this request from you

[lady-luckk]

Can I get more magical girl content? I love magical girls so much :3

lights, glitter, action!!!

# pairings: yandere batfam x magical girl reader

# synopsis: you randomly fall out of the sky and into the arms of the batfamily. now you get to experience wacky adventures with them.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

thinking of a drabble about a magical girl (aka you) who crash-lands—quite literally—into gotham, face-first into a rooftop during a red hood stakeout. your transformation sequence sparks brighter than the bat-signal, and jason todd immediately points a gun at you before you finish your glittery intro pose. “i am celestia radiant, guardian of purity and—” click “you’ve got three seconds to explain the sparkles.”

“do not shoot that sparkly person,” dick grayson says through comms, voice full of older brother exhaustion. “that’s not a sentence i thought i’d say today, but here we are.”

you insist your wand only “dispels negativity,” which doesn’t go over well when you try to boop jason with it and his helmet actually falls off. “what the—kid, that thing costs more than your tiara.”

tim drake attempts to scan you with his tech. the scanner explodes in pink glitter. he blinks. “great. now my system’s infected with lisa frank malware.”

“i can sense your inner turmoil,” you tell him, solemnly. “do you even sleep?”

“define sleep.”

“when your soul regenerates through restful peace.”

“yeah, no. i run on coffee, spite, and childhood trauma.”

damian challenges you immediately and calls you “a delusional pastel distraction.” you politely deck him with a glitter beam. alfred bandages him while muttering, “perhaps don’t insult people with projectile sparkles next time.”

you enter the batcave and gasps, “so much repressed emotion... this place reeks of unhealed trauma!” bruce walks out of the shadows and deadpans, “welcome to gotham.”

dick pokes your wand, curious. it responds by turning into a cat. neither of them say anything. they just nod like this is normal.

bruce finally sits you down and says, “are you a threat?”

“only to sadness, injustice, and tight schedules.”

“...”

you’re officially listed in the batcomputer as “magical girl (?) – harmless (???) – very pink (confirmed).”

after months of you showing up to “aid gotham’s bravest hearts,” the batfam starts developing a crushing, all-consuming soft spot for you—like an airborne glitter virus of affection.

jason is furious about it.

“they’re weird, they’re loud, and they smells like vanilla cupcakes!”

“you mean the vanilla cupcakes you keep stealing from them?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”

dick develops a habit of dramatically appearing next to you with his shirt slightly torn. “oops, must’ve gotten grazed again. guess i need magical healing?”

“you’ve got twelve band-aids on and none of them are real wounds,” tim whispers.

“don’t ruin this for me.”

tim claims he’s above it all. “we don’t even know what dimension they’re from.”

“your made them a custom batphone,” jason says.

“for tactical reasons.”

“it’s shaped like a heart.”

“tactical. heartline security.”

damian insists he feels nothing. "you’re a distraction." but when you calls him “gallant” after he saves a kitten, he literally freezes. the kitten escapes. he doesn’t notice. he’s still staring.

bruce has, very clearly, stated:

“i don’t care about you personally.” completely straight-faced. like he’s reading a grocery list. everyone heard it. everyone quotes it.

and yet… every time you so much as glance at something remotely out of budget, he’s already pulled out his black card.

“i’m just funding mission efficiency,” he says.

“that’s a limited-edition 40th anniversary magical cow figure from meow meow doki.”

“you seemed interested. we might need it.”

you mention wanting snacks once during patrol. the next day, the cave fridge is stocked with every brand you’ve ever casually mentioned.

“it’s for team morale,” bruce says, not making eye contact.

“you bought six flavors of celestial-themed ice cream.”

“they were on sale.”

you say it’s cold in your room once.

bruce upgrades the entire manor’s heating system by the end of the day.

“old wiring,” he says. “dangerous.”

over time it becomes apparent that they’ve grown an unhealthy attachment towards you.

whenever dick spots you, he clings to you like he can't bear to be apart. he’ll throw his arm around your shoulders with a grin, holding you a little too tightly. “did you miss me?” he’ll ask, leaning in just a little too close as he whispers in your ear. you can feel the weight of his gaze even when he’s not looking directly at you

jason has a habit of “accidentally” touching you. when you're walking together, his fingers will brush against yours, lingering just a second longer than necessary. he’ll give you a low, almost inaudible chuckle when you flinch. “i know you don’t mind,” he’ll say with a wicked grin, his hand remaining a little too close to yours.

tim loves to stand behind you when you’re busy, too close for comfort. you’ll feel his breath on your neck, his fingers lightly brushing against your back as he "casually" adjusts your chair. “just making sure you're comfortable,” he’ll say with a tone that feels like more than just a comment. when you turn around, he’s already walking away, as if he never meant to invade your space at all.

damian doesn’t shy away from showing his possessiveness. if you're out in public, he’ll stand a little too close to you, his presence always hovering just behind you like a shadow. sometimes, when you’re sitting, he’ll casually rest his hand on your knee, as if to remind you that you’re his responsibility. “stay close,” he’ll say, his voice unyielding.

bruce doesn't need to say much; his actions speak louder. he’ll touch your arm with a hand that's just firm enough to be a reminder. if you're sitting near him, he’ll make sure his leg brushes against yours, the slightest physical connection making it clear he's always aware of your presence. “are you comfortable?” he’ll ask, his gaze unreadable as if keeping you within his reach is the only thing that matters.

something that i've wondered was what people did during those long ass magical girl transformation.

imagine this: the city was in chaos. explosions echoed in the distance. the batboys were in the middle of a high-stakes battle against a villain whose name they still hadn’t quite figured out, but who was throwing around enough toxins and lasers to give gotham a new reason to be paranoid.

dick was leaping from wall to wall, trying to outmaneuver the villain’s henchmen. jason was head-butting a wall, making sure no one tried to flank them. tim was hacking into a control panel, eyes flicking between screens like a caffeinated squirrel. damian was already fighting the villain head-on, his sword clashing against their armor.

then, a voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the chaos:

“hey guys, be ready—i’m just finishing my transformation!”

everyone freezes. like someone hit pause on the action.

dick paused mid-flip, hanging from a ceiling beam. “wait—did they just say ‘transformation?’”

jason’s fist was raised, but he didn’t punch, staring at the comms like he’d been told the laws of physics were invalid. “they’re really doing this now?”

tim blinked. “are they seriously transforming? right in the middle of all this?”

damian, standing with his sword poised and looking perfectly ready to end the villain’s reign, sighed audibly. “this is… highly inefficient.”

but he didn’t move a muscle. not even to attack. he was waiting.

bruce, who had been silently observing the chaos and directing the others via comms, sighed too—his voice just low enough to avoid detection. “if we’re waiting, then wait. no need to rush this. hold positions. let’s see how long this takes.”

there was no mistaking it. he was as much a part of this ridiculous ritual as everyone else.

the villain, who had been watching the absurdity unfold, narrowed their eyes. “what are they doing? are they—waiting? are they—really pausing for a transformation?” the villain scoffed, clearly annoyed by the delay.

they pointed a glowing gauntlet at the group. “you’re all pathetic!”

but the batboys? completely unmoved. they were all still. all waiting. they were locked in place, every one of them silently enduring this ridiculous delay.

jason, gritting his teeth, turned to face the villain for the first time in a few minutes. “we’d love to keep fighting, but... you know. waiting on them.”

tim, flipping through some data on his wrist computer, half-checked out. “i’ll just optimize our schedule for the next one, but... they better have a good reason for this.”

dick was already making a list of things he could do during the wait. "i mean, it’s a whole process. at least we get a breather."

the villain, becoming increasingly frustrated, clenched their fists and began pacing. “no. i will not wait any longer!”

they leveled their weapon toward the batboys, preparing for an attack—but they didn’t move. everyone stood frozen—the batboys too disciplined to break formation, and you?

still getting ready.

there was another long pause. the villain shot a glare at bruce, who was calmly scanning the room, not even bothering to acknowledge the interruption. “are you all seriously letting this happen?” the villain snapped, voice rising. “i can’t believe i’m waiting on—”

and then it happened.

the unmistakable sound of sparkles filled the air. a soft chime echoed through the comms.

“magical girl transformation, initiate!”

dick’s eyes practically sparkled. “here it comes…”

jason let out a low groan, leaning back against a pillar. “this better be good.”

tim was frantically refreshing his mental list of everything he’d need to do to process this information later.

damian folded his arms and glared at the villain. “this delay better be worth it.”

there was a soft flash, a trail of glitter, and—there you were. in your full magical girl outfit, sparkling like a dream—the colors bright, the fabric catching the light, and your transformation complete in all its glory.

there was an awkward silence.

jason blinked, covered in what was still residual glitter from the earlier mishap. “okay, that... took a little longer than i thought.”

tim let out a long sigh. “i swear, the next time we’re scheduling this—everyone gets a 30-second limit.”

“done!” you announced, twirling dramatically. “let’s do this!”

bruce stared at you with a level of composure that barely hid his tiny sigh of approval.

“...now, we can continue.”

dick, ever the dramatic one, clapped. “absolutely worth it.”

jason just groaned and rolled his eyes, but the tiniest hint of a smile twitched on his lips.

“yeah, yeah, but next time, let’s maybe—i don’t know—not do this during a fight?”

the villain, now fuming, was clearly done. “this is your strategy?” they snapped. “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

they swung their weapon, clearly intending to take you down—but the batboys weren’t having it anymore.

in perfect sync, they moved, attacking from all angles.

you, of course, were already ready, using your powers to effortlessly counter their attacks.

the fight lasted all of five minutes after that.

once the villain was down, the batboys stepped back, eyes on you. jason let out a snort. “well, that was... something.”

tim raised an eyebrow. “maybe next time we make a better schedule for these things?”

damian just crossed his arms. “you’d think after all these months, we’d learn not to wait for their transformation.”

dick, flashed a smile. “what can i say? it’s worth it.”

bruce, just muttered, “next time, no delays.”

you, oblivious to their frustration and somehow enjoying the chaos, smiled brightly. “i’m glad you guys handled it without me!”

the villain, now completely defeated and embarrassed, could only mumble as they were carted off. “i cannot believe i lost to these people.”

and the batboys? they’d just endured yet another ridiculous chapter in their lives with you. but they all secretly agreed on one thing.

no matter how much it annoyed them… they’d always wait for your magical girl transformation.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[chrisevansredbelt]

Playing Dangerous

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader

warnings: not really any! this is kind of a backstory intro. death, funeral, smoking, drinking, drugs, and the sheer thought of jon bernthal.

summary: after your fathers death, you find yourself familiarising yourself with his best friend. his hot, dilfy, big thighed best friend.

multiple parts planned! all inspired by lana del rey songs

a/n: me when im back bc i missed writing... anyway this is a somewhat different universe to my og dbf!frank story but also not because it follows the same concept of lana del rey songs.

ALSO even though it is frank castle... im using characters from the bear... sorry i guess i really am only using frank because of the name i just didnt feel right writing jon or michael SORRY

and i am also using sex and the city characters too okay im sorry if nothing makes sense now but ENJOY

playing dangerous by lana

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

Pulling up beside the familiar cars parked in front of the church, Frank swiftly gets out of his truck, shutting the car door behind him. His brother Carmen, and cousin Richie, stand by their cars, gathering however once Frank approaches them.

"Thought we weren't gonna see another one of these until it was one of our own and when we're 80." Richie notes, hands on hips as the three of them observe the crowd of black disappearing through the church doors.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, well, Brock loved stupid games." He marvels at the amount of people who showed up. Brock always made note of how many enemies he had, he must have forgot to mention how many friends he had too.

Brock was Franks best friend. Ever since being enlisted together, they were pretty inseparable. They then went on to work with each other, shady business that subsequently cost Brock his life.

Brock was on the run from police... corrupt police who would do anything for $20 and a donut. Brock had a hit out on him ever since fucking over an old acquaintance by insulting his wife.

As cops chased him down one night, he was cornered. Brock ended up shooting and killing the cop he hated but was subsequently shot and killed by another.

Some good did end up coming about Brock's passing though, as an investigation was launched into the dead officer and the bribe's he took. Which ended up revealing an international bribe ring of some sort that landed Brock's enemy in jail with a hefty sentence.

Frank wished he had been with him that night, wondering if Brock's life could have been spared in any way. But on the flip side, Frank knew that Brock would have died happy killing the officer he hated so much and recalled the many nights Brock had confessed his disdain against the lifestyle he landed himself in.

"At least he's with his wife now." Carm then adds, earning a nod from the others.

As the last of the guests enter the building, Frank decides it's probably time to follow suit.

As painful as it would be to see his best friend no longer living, they all had a few words to say in the session and there was no backing out now.

Though everyone was still finding their seats, when the three men had entered, they had all still managed to give them pitiful looks. Eyes reading 'Sorry for your loss'.

The three of them make their way to the front row of seats, joining the few others that had clearly arrived earlier.

"Hey," Their sister, Natalie, smiles up at them, scooching over on the pew as they take their seats next to her. They offer greeting smiles back. Frank gazes around the church, admiring the many eyes of religious figures that stare back at him. "Hey, did you see his daughter turned up?" Natalie adds in a quiet whisper, making the three of them shoot their heads around in the direction of her gaze.

There, in the front row beside them sat you. Brock's only child and daughter. Everyone kind of just knew of you and your existence, but never actually saw you.

Though Brock always bragged and boasted about you, how beautiful you were, how proud of you he was, the truth was that he rarely saw you. A few years after he had left you, he occasionally made the effort to at least see you on birthdays and Christmas. But his visits slowly died off.

The relationship was still there, you texted and he sent you letters and money, but you lived with your friend and her family for most of your teen years.

Richie nudged Carmen, wiggling his brows, whilst Frank just takes you in. The men can’t help but ogle at you. You were almost like a fable or myth, and seeing you now for the first time ever was strange.

"Poor kid." Natalie purses her lips, brows furrowed in concern.

Frank knew he had to speak to you. Maybe it was the fact that you were his life long best friend’s daughter. Or maybe it was the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned your figure.

-

You watch as people leave in their expensive cars down the gravel road, sighing in relief at the lack of attention you were now getting.

Your father was laid to rest in the cemetery beside the church, in a space next to your mother.

Though few people still linger around their cars parked on the other side of the church, you keep your head down and make your way back up the church steps, pushing your way through the big, wooden doors.

You were glad no one else was here. Your social battery was drained for the month after today and you didn’t think you could take another ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, ‘Your dad was a great man’, ‘I’m sure he’s happy to be reunited with your mother’, 'I didn't know he had a daughter'.

You made your way to a random row and knelt on both knees, clasping your hands in front of you and bowing your head.

You weren't entirely religious, nor did you really know what you were praying for. All you knew was that if someone saw you, they would at least respect the gesture and leave you alone.

Wrong.

You hear the church doors open behind you and you close your eyes, quietly sighing. Whoever it is, they do not speak, but you can feel their eyes burning a hole through your back.

Out of curiosity, you lift up your head and turn to the back of the church.

Oh?

"Hi," The man greets sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I’m interrupting.” A small, reassuring smile on his face. You stay silent but shake your head softly, allowing him to continue. He takes a few steps closer, "I'm Frank."

You blink up at him a few times until you connect the dots on who this Frank person really was (and stop ogling at his god-like face) "Oh." You let out accidentally, before clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Yeah, I’m familiar with the name." You choke out, standing from your kneeling position out of respect... though you wouldn't entirely mind staying down there- God, you mentally slap yourself and remind yourself that you're in a church. And on top of that, you knew of Frank to be your dad’s friend... his best friend. You never saw him or heard anything else about him other than him being your dad’s best friend, but it was nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiles warmly now, extending a hand out for you to shake which you do so quite timidly, "Listen, if you need anything… I know you've probably heard that a lot today, but I'm probably the only one who really means it." He jokes and you can't help but let out a small smile.

“Thank you.” You nod. He was right though. Out of all of them, Franks did seem the most genuine. "Thanks for taking the time to check up on me."

He nods in response before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and from that wallet, a small card, "Here, take my number." You take the small business card from him, "If you really ever need anything, reach out… If I had knew your dad would pass so soon, I’m sure I would’ve promised him to look out for you.”

You weren’t annoyed by Frank’s social interaction, unlike everybody else who talked to you today. Everyone else just seemed so full of shit. And Frank at least knew who you were.

-

You watch as another car passes by before sighing. The heat was starting to get to you a little and as the sun began to set, it landed opposite you, blinding your eyes.

After the funeral, you made the decision to walk to the closest bus stop and make your way back home that way. Though you caught an Uber to the church, you couldn’t bare any more questions or painfully awkward small talk about your day. So you opted for the bus.

The area was nice in any case, a small neighbourhood 20 minutes from Manhattan where you used to live as a child.

It was nice to experience the silence as well. You were so used to the loud of the city that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to just sit with nothing but the birds, the bugs and the leaves. And to actually see the sun without being blocked by some high rise building.

As you zoned out, staring at the ground, you hear the bus finally arrive. Only, you thought it was the bus. You look up and you’re met with a black pick up truck coming to a stop right in front of you and now your heart races.

The window rolls down and a familiar face slightly judges you, "You seriously taking the bus?"

You stand from your seat, small kitten heels clanking against the concrete as you step closer to Franks truck.

You're kind of loss for words. You had made sure to linger in the church for a while and only left when you believed everyone else to have already left. Frank must have stalled in the cemetery or something?

“I..." You start, "I thought it would be relaxing.” You explain vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Frank quirks a brow and you sigh in defeat, “I didn’t feel like talking to nosy Uber drivers.”

Frank cracks a smile, shaking his head and reaches over to the passenger door, unlocking it for you, "Get in."

You're unsure what it is that makes you give in to getting into his car. Perhaps that Frank was probably the closest thing to your father that you were ever going to get in your life and you automatically felt safe with him. Whatever it was, it felt right.

Jumping into his car, you get comfortable, admiring the interior of it. You couldn’t help but notice, however, the faint smell of either cigar or weed lingering in the car, mixed with the efforts of the Black Ice air freshener dangling from his rear view.

Not only this, but you see his packet of cigarettes in his cup holder.

You’d been dying for a cigarette ever since the funeral started, but couldn’t bring yourself to whip one out as you walked to the bus stop- more concerned about your heels and feet surviving the journey rather than your urge for nicotine. And you refrained from doing so at the bus stop in case it pulled up any second.

“May I?” You ask after rummaging through your purse and holding up the small box of sticks.

“Go ahead.” Frank shrugs with a soft smile, “Where do you live?”

You blow out your plume of smoke out the previously opened window, offering it to him, “West 84th.”

“Upper West side.” He notes with an impressed nod, taking your cigarette from you gratefully.

You raise your brows a little, you could not believe it either that you lived there now, "Inheritance came in handy."

The drive to the city with Frank was nice. It wasn’t awkward and you were able to keep a steady conversation. You could definitely see why Frank was a life long friend.

"Which one is it?" Frank asks, cutting your thoughts short as he pulls into your street.

"This white one here." You point and Frank's lucky that there's a vacant spot out front. He seems impressed by your house as he leans over his wheel to get a look at it while he parks.

To be truthfully honest, you were a little bummed once you had come to a stop.

"Do you wanna come in?" You don't even realise what you're asking until it's already out and Frank's looking at you dumbly. Fuck. “I-I just got so much of his stuff, m-maybe you can help me figure out what to do with it?” You try to cover up.

You internally cringe however as you wait for his answer. Why the hell did you just invite this man into your home without hesitation?

You really didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth. But what was even more surprising was Frank's answer, "Sure."

You take Frank up the small stairs to your house, unlocking the door, “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You apologise as he walks in after you. You watch as he takes in your apartment and feel a little insecure for some reason. God, what did it matter what this man thought of your brand new apartment?

“No, it's nice.” He nods and you feel yourself relax. He makes his way into your living room and stares at the piles of boxes and plastic covered furniture. The last of your furniture had arrived yesterday and you had no time, or energy (or frankly manpower for that matter) to sort it out.

"It's a work in progress." You sigh, "I always imagined this to be something my dad would have helped me with." You admit and again, cringe at yourself for being so depressing.

"I can always lend a hand?" Frank offers.

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You didn't mean for Frank to get to that conclusion but at the same time, Frank seemed like he was already going to offer. But you were too humble to say yes, even if you were too cheap to get movers (even though you now had money, old habits never die) and you were convinced you could do it on your own.

But now that Franks offering, you’d be stupid to decline.

The one thing that needed to be put together was your bed, but aside from that your furniture was old, vintage pieces. They were also light so it’s not like it would be entirely arduous labour for Frank, but it would just mean a lot less chain smoking and broken nails for you.

You ended up ordering pizza for the both of you and fuelled Frank with beer as he got to work on setting up your furniture. You helped him out with the light work, but you mostly just smoked and chatted away.

Frank had no issue with it though.

Frank told you many stories about your dad. You realised Franks memories with him definitely outnumbered your own, which was humbling to say the least.

You found the both of you now seated on the hardwood floor of your home, taking a break as you take the time to really talk and eat.

"Can I ask..." Frank starts carefully, and you're mindless to what he's about to ask, "Did you resent your dad?" His question makes you put down your drink, " It's just- you seem to be taking his passing quite well and you were actually at the funeral... Most people I know in a situation like yours wouldn't do such a thing."

You dart your eyes around the room, running the question through your head. You, too, had realised that your own fathers passing hadn't made you a hysterical wreck, like it would have made most people. You also questioned why.

When you got the news that your dad died, you cried but only sparingly and never again after that day. But you went to class the next day, drinks with the girls the next. What the hell was wrong with you?

"I know the shady shit he did killed my Mom." You tell Frank, "I did actually resent him for a while for leaving, then I accused him of killing her and didn't talk to him for a few years." You admit shamefully, "But as I got older, I understood him leaving was keeping me safe and I couldn't argue with that... As for the day he died..." You begin, but take a second to find the words, "I don't know... I guess... it's like he's not really gone." You say, but watch as Frank tilts his head a little in confusion, "Well, he is gone... but it's felt like that for a long time now... Maybe I'm used to it." You feel as though you've just solved the mystery. You feel hot all of a sudden, looking up at Frank and seeing his eyes staring right back at yours. You clear your throat, "Um- What about you? H-How did you handle it?"

"Oh, man." He starts, shaking his head, "It was one of the worst days of my life... I was a wreck." He admits. This might be unfair to say, but you didn't expect a man like Frank to be so open about his emotions, "But your father was all about seeing the good and I just thought, he would kick my ass if he saw me like this instead of celebrating the life we had together and the man he was."

It was silent after that, but you must note that it was a comfortable silence. You let each other sit with the feelings from the conversation had and it felt nice.

Frank is the first to break the silence, by nudging your foot with his, “But what's up with you, girl? Are you in college?”

You smile at him and his effort to lighten the mood a little, “I graduated last year in journalism.” You sigh. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, certainly not for New York. But it was the only thing that really interested you- having spent most of your formative years journaling your each and every thought, experience and emotion. Writing just came natural to you, “What about you? Are you married?”

Fuck, was that too forward?

“I am not married, no.” Frank answers anyway, with a laugh even.

You would be lying if you said you didn't search for a ring when he first introduced himself to you. What could you say, he was a gentlemen. And plus, you wanted to ask in case you just so happened to be keeping him from her by having pizza and beer at your house while he helps you build your furniture.

Yep, that's the only reason.

Frank only stayed for about an hour longer after that. It had gotten pretty late anyway and you were both tired from the day you had.

You walked Frank to the door, giving him a new case of beer as a means of thanks. Seriously, with Frank's help, all you really have left to do is unpack your boxes and decorate the house.

“Thanks for all your help, Frank.” You say, unable to even recall how many times you've expressed your thanks today.

“And I mean it when I said to call me if you need anything.” He reminds, pointing at you and you roll your eyes.

If you were dying or in jail, maybe. But you didn't have many plans to bother Frank. You wish you could-

“Where do you live?” You ask, simply out of curiosity... or desire to be in his presence longer.

“New Rochelle.”

You widen your eyes, but then furrow your brows, “You drove me all the way here even though you lived like 5 minutes away from the church?” You ask in disbelief. He just laughs as an answer, meanwhile you're rummaging to the side through your foyer drawers and handing him a bunch of crumpled President Jacksons, “Here.”

He laughs down at the money, pushing it back to you, “Sweetheart, I’m not taking your money.”

You look at the money shoved into your chest in defeat. But you know he's not going home without something, “Fine.” You mutter before digging through your purse on the same table.

You pull out your metal cigarette case and hand him a pre-roll that you planned to smoke after the funeral.

Frank looks at it longingly, averting his gaze back and forth before slowly bringing a hand up to take it, “Fan of the Blazy Susan’s I see.” He notes, eyeing the pink paper and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, is it too girly for you?” You mock, leaning against your door, contempt now that you've paid your dues.

He tucks the joint behind his ear in response, “Whoever you're buying from, tell 'em you've found someone new."

You're not surprised Frank grows and sells, but you scoff at his persistent concern about you, "I'm sure my weed isn't laced." You assure him.

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but at least mines free."

He had you there. Weed was an expensive habit and you'd considered stopping for a while now, but could never bring yourself to do it. And now that is free and most definitely safe, you wonder if you'll ever stop.

You bid Frank a final farewell and safe drive as he takes the steps down to his car. You wait and watch as he drives down the road and only retreat back inside once he's around the corner.

You can't help but miss his company now that the house is quiet, but lingers his smell.

And as Frank drives through the quiet streets of the city, he can't help but wonder... as do you as you flop into bed...

'Why do I feel this way?' Shortly accompanied with, 'Would it really be that bad?'

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

MANY PARTS TO COME

i hope ive hooked you in, im excited for this series

thanks for reading okey byeeee

[ebodebo]

LISTEN…confronting your fiance, langdon, about his drug problem…at the hospital which you’re a nurse at…and your dad overhears the yelling and barges in…and yes ofc robby is your dad bc who do you think i am? heavy angst incoming!

mentions of addiction and drugs…read at your own discretion!

-

Your sight must be deceiving you.

You had been going off of little to no sleep and in the middle of your fifteen-hour shift.

The bag in your hands held small white pills, each one taunting you from behind its wall of plastic.

You had been staring at them for ten minutes.

Ten tantalizing minutes that felt like an eternity.

You swore you didn't come to snoop, but…you had a gut feeling to check deep in his backpack.

You almost threw up when you heard the crinkle of the bag and felt the hard circles enclosed.

"Honey," Langdon breaches the silence as he approaches, not noticing the bag in your hand. "Are you alright?"

You close your eyes, releasing a shallow breath as you slowly turn to face him, the bag hanging by your fingertips.

His eyes widen in surprise before words start pouring out of his mouth. "Okay," he begins, putting his hands up. "I know what you think," he nods his head, his chest rising with each word.

Your lips flatline, and you release a shallow breath through your nose. "Do you?"

"I'm not an addict," he urges, eyes wide.

You shake your head, a humorless smile on your face. "Why did you feel the need to clarify that, huh?" 

His jaw tightens. "I—I'm not."

You shake your head, tears already brimming your waterline. "How long?"

"Listen…you're upset," he starts, but his voice is too calm, which makes you lose it. 

You toss the pills on the floor. "How fucking long have you been hooked on these God-damn pills!" you shout louder than intended, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks.

His eyes widen. "Just—just calm down," his calm voice suggests, yet it carries some nervousness.

"You want me to calm down?" you spit, eyes narrowing at him. "I just found out my fiance is an addict, and you want me to calm down?" 

"Baby, baby," he moves closer to you, desperation in his voice. "You, you know me," his eyes search yours, looking away from his. "I'm not a fucking addict." His hands move to press into either of your biceps.

You almost falter at his touch, but you shake your head, finally looking up at him. "Do I know you?" you ask, eyes moving over his. "I mean, do I really?"

"I haven't lied to you," he says, his light eyes searching for anything from yours. "Baby, I'm not an addict. Could an addict do what I do?"

He tries to reason, and you let out a dry laugh.

A salty tear runs down your lips as you sniffle. "Apparently," you shrug him off, stepping away from him to run your hands through your hair.

"You, you know me," his hands shake as he tries to explain. "They're just for the pain."

"That's what they all say, Frank," your voice rises as you chew on the inside of your cheek. "You know that."

He inhales deep breaths, raising his hands in surrender. "Baby…I know you're upset," he starts, making you laugh humorlessly.

"That doesn't even scratch the surface," you say plainly.

"Please don't, don't tell Robby," he exasperates, his voice tight. “He'll report me, baby," he moved closer to you. "Please don't."

You let out a huff. "You don't want me to tell my dad you're an addict so you can keep your fucking job?"

"Baby, please," he urges, desperation in his words. "I could lose my medical license."

Your mouth hangs open; silence hangs between you two for a moment before your voice dips down. "You piece of shit," you mutter. "You piece of fucking shit," you bring your finger up to point at him, voice incredulous. You shrug loosely. "Were you on the pills when you proposed?"

"Baby," he tilts his head to the side, evading the question.

"Were you on them?" your voice is lethal, loud.

He closes his eyes before opening them, letting his shoulders sag.

There it is.

The confession.

You shake your head, your eyes downcast as you make a humorless sound. "Oh, that's just...that's real nice, Frank," you begin, your voice rising as you continue. "I'm so fucking glad to know that you were God-damn high when you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me."

"I, I meant everything I said," he says immediately. "We can—we can still get married," he says hopefully. "I love you so much."

"No, you don't, Frank," you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "You would have told me about the pills if you did."

"What's going on in here?" Dr. Robby's voice slices through the air, making your and Langdon's eyes snap to him.

"Robby," Langdon greets, voice slightly shaky. "No—nothing,"

Dr. Robby's eyes drift to you.

Your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks wet with tears.

"Frank," he turns towards Langdon, pointing lazily at you. "What the hell did you do to my daughter?"

"I didn't—I didn't do anything, Robby," he tries, eyes moving to you as if you were going to defend him.

"He's a fucking addict," your voice ricochets off the walls. You bend down to pick up the bag off the floor. "Painkillers."

Dr. Robby's eyes snap back to Langdon. "Is it true?"

"It's not what you think—" Langdon starts before Dr. Robby lifts up his hand.

"Frank," he urges, voice low. "Have you been popping painkillers?"

Langdon doesn't move for a moment before he slowly nods. Dr. Robby lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. 

"Frank," he looks at him. "You need to leave," he says, finality in his tone.

"If you would just let me explain—" Langdon starts before Dr. Robby wipes his face roughly.

"Get the fuck out of my ER!" Dr. Robby shouts. "Now."

Langdon winces before he slowly grabs his backpack, eyes locking with yours before you turn away from his gaze. He nods lightly before turning to move out of the door.

"Daddy," you say lowly when Langdon leaves, sinking onto the ground and propping yourself on the locker. "He's an addict," you sniffle, head in your hands. "A fucking addict."

Dr. Robby sighs as he approaches you, sinking into the spot next to you.

"He was on them when he proposed," you murmur, chest heaving. "He was fucking high!"

"Oh…sweet pea," he coaxes, putting his arm around your shoulder and embracing you.

"I, I feel so lost," you blubber into his chest, tears staining his jacket. "I don't know what to do."

He nods. "You don't have to do anything right now, kiddo. You just have to be. I'm here for you," his voice offers you some comfort.

You don't remember how long you sat there crying into your dad's chest, staining his clothes and ruining your makeup.

You’re glad to stop moving for a moment.

Letting everything go and putting it all in the open.

You know that eventually, you'll have to deal with the fallout, but for now, you just wanted your dad to hold you.

-

author’s note: oh my god this got way more emotional than i intended…

[seokminfilm]

pink & white ── lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, soft seokmin, seokmin and reader are mentioned to have taken a shower together (not nsfw!!), reader calls seokmin by his nicknames (reader also calls him pretty RAHHH), seokmin calls reader beautiful, kissing, dokyeom is shirtless (....yes i'm giving that a warning shut up), just bucket loads of fluff & compliments

🤍 summary, your boyfriend had shown you a new level of intimacy tonight, and you were overflowing with love for him.

🤍 author's note, giggling rn bro i swear i will NEVER get over this set of seokmin pictures idc how long it's been🧍anyways enjoy this very fluffy intimate fic cause i know i need a bit of a break from everything!

🤍 now playing, pink + white (frank ocean)

🤍 word count, 648 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"feel clean?" seokmin chuckles, watching you shake your now damp hair as you smile up at him, hair obscuring your full face. "very."

seokmin had proposed something you never thought would happen in your relationship—he had asked you if you wanted to shower together. you were initially nervous, but once seokmin had reassured you he wasn't going to initiate anything you didn't want, you had loosened up and agreed to it.

seokmin treated you wonderfully while in the shower; he had played soft jazz music, taking time to love on you and your bare body as he pressed kisses to your face, back, and collarbone. he massaged your skin softly, washing you and your hair before helping you out of the tub and drying you off.

even now, you still smelled of lavender and vanilla, your body draped in seokmin's shirt as you watched him run a hand through his dark, damp hair.

seokmin quickly strips himself of his robe, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers. no matter how many times you saw your boyfriend naked, you would never be able to get over how beautiful he really was.

seokmin's tanned skin shadowed every muscle and vein on his lean body perfectly, and you could smell the fresh soap even from your vantage point on the bed.

seokmin happens to turn around slightly, catching your gaze as a small smile forms on his face. "hi, beautiful. am i a good view for you?"

"more than a good view," you whisper softly, standing up from the bed as you walk up to your boyfriend. seokmin's staring at you as you walk, giggling at your cold hands as you slip them around seokmin's bare waist. his muscles flex under your touch, rippling and moving as you smile up at him.

"are you gonna kiss me?" seokmin asks, eyes locked with yours as you reach your hand up to his face, fingers tracing his plump lips and sharp jawline as you shrug, a proud smile decorating your face.

"maybe. you'd like that though, wouldn't you, seok?" you tilt your head to the side in a teasing manner. your tone of voice causes seokmin to nod, lips parting just slightly to taste the scent of vanilla on your soft fingers as he chuckles.

"very much so, yes." seokmin whispers, and you nod, cupping his cheek in your palm as you bring your lips to his. seokmin lets out a soft sigh, smiling under your lips as you allow your hand to flutter across seokmin's waist.

he trembles again, visibly shaking this time as you burst into a fit of laughter. "you're so cute, min."

seokmin's flustered now, cheeks a slight red as he covers his face with his hands. his bare torso is on display, still a beautiful sight to see as he mumbles something into his hands.

"hey, i'll stop teasing you now. let me look at your pretty face," you say softly, reaching for seokmin's hands. he lets you take them away from his face, revealing his sparkling, dark brown eyes, reddened cheeks, sharp nose, tiny beauty mark, and plush lips.

if there was one thing you would forever know, it would be that your boyfriend was one of the prettiest boyfriends you think you've ever had.

"there's my pretty seokmin." you smile, and seokmin's expression softens after a few seconds. he's leaning into your touch with ease now, searching your eyes as he lets out a quiet yet content sigh.

"i love you, more than you could ever know." seokmin's voice is sincere, dark eyes holding nothing but love for you as you nod, interlocking your hands with seokmin's larger ones.

even though silence falls between you two, it's a comfortable one, one that's thick with the feeling of love. even if you don't reply to seokmin's confession, the both of you know it's mutual.

[distantdarlings]

HOUSE PRIDE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, degradation, name-calling, jealousy, fem reader, language, dom!Theo--honestly, this is just depraved

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Pyramids - Frank Ocean

---

You pressed your face to your hands, breathing deeply. You couldn’t believe what you were fucking hearing. The pounding in your head refused to subside as he kept demanding an answer.

“Hello? Do you wanna explain why you were practically throwing yourself on Riddle today at lunch?” the brunette demanded, his eyes widened and wild. Your hands dropped and you made eye contact with the boy. You were in disbelief.

“Throwing myself at him? You dick, I tripped and fell on him! That’s just number one! Number two: you are not my fucking boyfriend,” you shouted, “I can throw myself on whoever I want, whenever I want!”

Theo locked his jaw and pursed his lips slightly. A tell of his that meant he was very angry. He didn’t usually speak much after he pushed past this point. More like, just crossed his arms and stared at you, eye bordering on twitching. You scoffed and held your hands out, waiting for a response from him. He said nothing.

“I don’t need you to tell me who to give attention to, Theo. You are not my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend. I tripped and fell against Mattheo this morning and we both laughed it off, so why can’t you?”

“You just tripped and fell on him and his hands landed on your ass? Oh, whoops, just an accident!” he mocked you. 

“I don’t know if his hands were on my ass or not, he may have been trying to stabilize me as quickly as he could—but besides the point, who gives a fuck if he was touching my ass? It’s not like you’ve been too eager to do anything anytime soon!” you shout, blood rushing through your ears and cheeks. Shit. You did not mean to say that. His head shot back and his eyes widened slightly. You kept the anger imprinted on your face to attempt to hide the embarrassment you were feeling so strongly. Hopefully, he would think this was a super-confident confession written in a rage. Still, he said nothing.

“Oh, forget it! To hell with you, Theo!” you screamed, grabbing your robes and running out of his dorm room. He said nothing and made no move to stop you. Your feet carried you down the hallway and into your own room. 

None of your roommates were here. You figured they were all in different dorms, preparing for the common room party in a few hours. Once every couple of months, some of the Slytherins—usually seniors—will get together and prepare a “house” party. They’re always fun, high-energy, and filled to the brim with Slytherin pride. Merlin, you loved them. 

You had originally declined to go tonight. You had some leftover work that was due on Monday and you almost thought that Theo would invite you to Hogsmeade or something, but you should have known better than that. It seems all he’s concerned about is his reputation. 

You tugged through the buttons on your uniform top and ripped it off your shoulders. You pulled your skirt and socks off, holding the end of your bed for balance. There were a couple of nice outfits shoved in the trunk beneath the bedframe—you figured something in there would do. You reached up and let your hair down from its elastic, allowing it to fall to its natural length. The ends of the waved strands tickled your skin as you yanked the trunk into the open. Inside were a couple of different combinations, all saved up for special occasions. And if anyone asked you, making Theo Nott as jealous as you possibly could was a very special occasion. 

Your eyes fell on a specific top. A long sleeve, skin-tight sweetheart neckline that plunged a little deeper than it should, and a flared, darkened skirt. You reckoned it was simple and sexy. It practically bled Theo’s name all over your body, claiming you as his, though you pretended like you hated that. He never needed to know it, but you secretly loved how jealous he became when you had the smallest interactions with other people. You blow a curled hair out of your face. The fucker could have been running down the halls with a red tapestry taped to his back and you still wouldn’t call him a red flag. He was just what you wanted; what you’d wanted for years. Whether or not he’d ever actually act on your feelings for each other, you belonged to him and he belonged to you. 

You slipped the outfit on, mussed up your hair a bit, and applied a light layer of makeup. With the two tests, three project due dates, and eighteen assignments you’d had this week, you could use a bit of a touch-up. Hopefully, you didn’t sweat it off by the end of the night—though, that was sort of the goal.

You grabbed your wand and slipped it into your back pocket, patting it twice for good luck, and pushed through the dorm door. Down the hallway, you could hear the faint pounding of music. Your heart raced, keeping in time with the deep bass pushing past the walls. Was this a good idea? For a few moments, you stood in front of your door, pondering your options. Your plan for this evening could either end really well or really badly or you could avoid the possibilities completely and stay in like you originally planned. A deep sigh left you as your eyes slid closed. Who cared? This was your life and, you’d said it earlier, Theo was not your boyfriend and you intended on finishing what you’d started with Mattheo earlier this morning.

Deep cool colors swirled throughout the common room, echoing off of every shadow and highlight in the moulding. Everywhere you looked there was another Slytherin scarf or Quidditch team hat. One boy even wore a Slytherin flag around his neck like a cape. You laughed at the absurd outfit. These parties were most definitely one of the best things about being a Slytherin. Say what you will about the house, but they could throw a fucking party. 

You slid through swaying bodies, feeling the bass echo deep in your chest, rattling your ribcage. A couple of your friends were scattered throughout the crowd and slipped in gracefully with their personal friends. As you passed by them, they waved or flashed you a bright smile, all of which you returned. You would come back and talk but, for now, you were looking for someone specific. 

There was a table set up in front of the fireplace, decked out with green and black decorations, and overflowing with tall glasses of firewhisky. Your eyes skated along the length of the furniture until it reached a familiar body. You smirked and grabbed a drink before making your way over.

Enzo stood against the edge of the table, discussing something with one of the “bartenders.” When you stopped in front of him, his lips ceased and his eyes found your chest, then your eyes. His lips remained parted. Sweet, sweet Enzo. 

“Hey, En, I was wondering if you’d seen Mattheo, anywhere?” you smiled. He said nothing for a few seconds before stuttering back to life like an old car. 

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen him anywhere…uh, why do you need—um, I mean, did you need to talk to him?” he stumbled, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. The boy he’d been talking to—some fifth-year—snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the two of you to pour a couple more drinks. You stepped closer to Enzo, feeling his body heat on you. The shoes you were wearing granted you a couple more inches of height, which, consequently, put your hairline just above his. His eyes were angled slightly upward as he watched you. 

You waved him against you. He leaned in. The confidence burning through you tonight was more than you’d felt in a long time. You felt hurt and angry and frustrated. You could fix one of those quickly. You traced the skin above his ear, pushing a small tuft of copper hair back. A small shudder went through his body as you pressed your lips against his ear.

“I just wanted to dance and was looking for a boy who’d dance with me,” you said slowly. “I thought Mattheo would be the best but maybe you could…you know��”

You pulled away and smiled sweetly, placing a deep innocence into your eyes, watching as his lips parted and closed multiple times. You tilted your head to the right, allowing your eyes to switch from his eyes to his lips ever so briefly.

“I haven’t seen Mattheo, I’ll dance with you,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. You smiled brightly and grabbed one of the hands hanging limply by his side. You felt his warm skin beneath yours as you tugged him toward the center of the dancing mass. You were pretty sure you recognized the song playing and proceeded to work all of its beats throughout your body, encouraging Enzo to join you.

“Come on, En!” you laughed. “You’re supposed to dance with me.” He seemed to shock out of a momentary stupor. You felt good tonight and you hoped it was showing on your face and body. He still didn’t move and you reckoned he was going to take some physical guiding. 

As the song slowed slightly, you grabbed both of his hands and slid them around your hips. His breath shuddered through his lips as you began moving the two of you. You dropped your hands to his belt and guided his hips a bit, biting back a smile. He had all of the facilities for these particular…activities, he was just really nervous. Soon enough, though, his hips were moving on their own.

You turned around and placed your back against his chest. Without prompting, his hands dropped down to your hips, gripping them firmly. He moved you against him to every beat of the song. To be honest, he was placing a little bit of blush in your stomach. One of your arms raised to wrap loosely around his neck.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed in his ear, cradling the base of his neck with your hand. One of his hands raised to hold your arm against him as the other stayed intact on your hip. A crooked smile found its way onto his lips as the both of you felt every rhythm the other was putting out. Fuck, maybe you’d picked the wrong boy all along. The way Enzo was grabbing your hips and ever so slowly grinding against your ass had your lips parting in a slow gasp.

“Like this?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Merlin, help you.

If anything could have pulled you out of your current situation, it was the burning eyes you felt against you pouring into your skin like a brand. You gasped a bit and looked away from Enzo. Almost immediately, you found Theo’s eyes on the two of you. Enzo noticed your sudden change of attention and glanced up, finding the older’s eyes. Like he’d been branded himself, his hands faded away from you and, almost as quickly, so did he. Fucker. So much for sticking by you. 

You were used to it by now, though. Where you were involved, Theo was, too. Even though you weren’t actually together, everyone knew you were Theo’s. Anytime you were hanging out with another boy, he always found out. Even if it was just for a school assignment. 

His jaw was clenched and ticking. His eyes were lidded and ice-cold, angled right at you. You rolled your eyes and huffed, stomping off through the crowd. He couldn’t get whatever he wanted all the time. He needed to pick. He needed to officially claim you as his, take you on dates, buy you gifts, and all that nonsense or he needed to leave you the hell alone. He couldn’t have it both ways. 

You finally came upon the end of the crowd and the staircase leading to the girl’s dorms. You hurried up the steps, not even caring if he was behind you or ignoring you or with a different girl. 

The hallway was completely empty, everybody down at the party or taking an early night. You rushed across the winding floors, trying your best to get to your room before Theo changed his mind. You just wanted to get out of your clothes and makeup and go to bed. Your dorm door appeared around the corner followed by an immense sense of relief.

Your hand closed around the doorknob and—a hand closed tightly around your arm and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as the perpetrator slammed you roughly into the wall just beside the door. It was Theo. He was livid, his breath coming out in hard slants, and his eyes so darkened they appeared black. You swallowed thickly, your breath rushing out of you just as his was. The two of you heard your hearts pounding in tandem.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded, his face inches from yours. Your eyes glanced down from his to his lips, watching the changes in his anger. He waited impatiently for an answer for too long before you realized it wasn’t meant to be a rhetorical question. 

He grabbed your arm once more and pulled you away from the wall. A swift flick of his wand and a fury like no other, and he was pulling you into your empty dorm room. It was almost completely dark by now.

“You want some attention, huh?” he said, casting a flame into the stove set in the middle of the room, his grip on your arm never weakening. He slammed his wand down on your bedside table and pushed you onto your bed. You fell roughly against the mattress, your hands holding you up into a sitting position. He stared down at you wildly, like an angry parent.

“Answer me,” he growled. Your eyes bore the same innocence you’d given to Enzo earlier and you knew that he’d only last a few minutes like this. Already, his facade was flickering and his gaze was softening. 

“I just—I don’t know, Teddy, I—”

“You just, you—you, you…fucking spit it out,” he mocked you. Body betraying your mind, heat pooled in your lower stomach as his face got closer and closer to yours and he got angrier and angrier. If it was anyone else, you’d have gotten embarrassed or angry but with Theo…it was a different feeling.

“All out of confidence, hmm? What happened, baby, you had plenty out there when you were grinding your ass all over Lorenzo Berkshire in front of everyone!”

“What’s wrong with Enzo?” you squeaked, your thumbs rolling over the other.

“He’s not me, you stupid girl,” he roared, his words perking your chest. You pressed your thighs together discreetly, never losing eye contact with him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you.

“Are you serious? Are you fucking turned on right now?” he asked. He had seen you. You didn’t say anything. His hand reached around and roughly gripped your hair, his fingers tugging deliciously on your scalp. He held your head back.

“Answer me, baby,” he whispered, his voice a thousand times different. “Does it turn you on when I shout at you? When you get me jealous and worked up?” The way he was looking down at you had you gulping against the strain being placed on your throat. You nodded.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he laughed darkly, the sinister tone in his voice echoing in your stomach. His hand let go of your hair and grabbed your jaw tightly. He held your face up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you fucking belong to?” An eyebrow quirked. You nodded once more, anticipation hitting you like a train. He smirked, releasing your jaw by pushing you back roughly. Your back came into contact with the bed, the material nearly knocking the breath out of you. 

He crawled over you slowly, letting his lips ghost over your exposed cleavage, neck, chin, lips. He paused and allowed his breath to pour into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, the scent of it burning your lips. He pushed his tongue out and gently traced it over your bottom lip. Your lips parted in a gasp at the contact. Just as soon as your mouth had opened, his had covered it, suffocating all breath. You moaned into him, feeling the way his body held you tightly against the mattress. 

You raised your hand to place your fingers beneath his shirt, but one of his hands reached down and grabbed yours with a speed your intoxicated brain wasn’t capable of comprehending right now. He raised them above your head and held them with a grip like a vice, his fingers violent and unyielding. You’d definitely have bruises in the morning. 

You bucked your hips against him, trying to illicit some contact between your core and his. He grunted at the touch before pulling back and roughly turning you over, pressing your chest into the mattress. 

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled into your ear, still holding your hands tightly above you. “Do as I fucking say. I’m going to pull this skirt up and I’m going to fuck you and you’re not going to say a word but my name. Do you understand me?” You nodded frantically, impatiently waiting for some contact. 

“Keep your hands there,” he instructed as he slowly let them go. You curled your fingers around the edge of the bed to keep them locked in place. You didn’t dare disobey him. 

Behind you, you could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he pulled it from his jeans and dropped it to the floor. The anticipation was killing you, your thighs pressing tightly together for a chance at some friction. The heat between them was beginning to become too much. 

He pressed bruising kisses along the side of your neck, trailing them down your shoulder. His teeth cut along the flesh, ripping blacks and blues into the sensitive skin. You whimpered at the feeling, knowing good and well he just wanted everyone to see whose you were.

His fingers ghosted along the outsides of your thighs, tracing the chills that appeared in their wake. You shuddered against the sheets, waiting to feel everything he was about to do. You couldn’t see any of his movements and, for whatever reason, that amplified the feeling by a million. 

There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of rustling clothing. No part of him touched you and you found yourself becoming more and more desperate by the moment. You reckoned he was removing unnecessary items of his outfit but if he didn’t do something soon, you were going to start pitching a fit. 

Then his thumb pressed against your thin undergarments, right where you needed him the very most. An awfully audible moan left your lips and your spine arched against his touch. Merlin help anyone who walked by this dorm or, worse, tried to come in.

“Please, baby,” you sighed, your fingers clenching tightly against the mattress. His hand roughly grabbed your hair once more, tugging your head back.

“My name only, you dumb slut,” he insulted before pushing your head back into the sheets. One hand held your head to the bed as the other lined his hips up with yours. 

No matter how many times the two of you did this, you’d never get used to it. He was just so much better than any of the other boys in school. And there were a lot of them too. None of them felt like Theo and he knew it, too. He knew that you would always come back to him. He was impossible to leave. His touch and rough, degrading words were addictive and you couldn’t stay away from him. Your friends had told you over and over again that you needed to drop him and completely move on but you just couldn’t. He was the closest thing to a drug you had.

He tucked a finger beneath your undergarments and slid them over to the side. He placed a hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he ordered. You complied. He spread the material over his fingers slowly, coating each one thoroughly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand disappear and reintroduce itself with your core. The tips of his soaked fingers skirted between the slit of your skin, lathering you in his touch. Just as he’d instructed, his name poured from your lips like a prayer. 

He pulled his hands away and quickly replaced them with a dark, warm heat that pressed into you agonizingly slowly, stretching every part of you out.

“Fuck, it’s been a while,” he groaned breathlessly, pushing into you until he bottomed out. His lips curve just above your ear, every moan and whisper touching your mind like a soft hand. As he began to move, they became louder and made less sense to either of you. His name curled around the room. You worshipped him. The reverence you placed on every syllable touched his chest and slid down to his core. He gasped into your ear. You sounded so fucking good.

It didn’t matter if he fucked every girl in Hogwarts, none of them could ever compare to you. 

“Theo, baby, you feel so good,” you screamed, the words vibrating your skin. 

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed. You moaned aloud as he pressed an especially sharp thrust against you. “I know, I know.”

“Please, please, please,” you babbled, your words pathetic and useless. His hips never ceased their brutal pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “Are you my girl? Or are you Enzo’s?” He growled the last part, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair. You yelped at the feeling, tilting your head back to relieve some of the pain.

“No, no! I’m yours, Teddy, I’m all yours, please,” you begged. 

“That’s right, baby.” He released your hair. Every movement of his body brought you closer and closer to your end. His hands gripping your hips and pulling himself toward his own, his lips curling against your ear, his weight holding you perfectly in place.

Neither of you would last much longer and you both knew that. Every deep push of his hips drove you further into your pleasure as you began to close around him, gradually coaxing a release out of him. One of his hands dropped down to trace tight circles against you, ignoring the way your hips quaked to get away from the overstimulation. You were done for. 

Every sound pouring from his lips began to mingle with yours a bit closer as he pushed you through both of your final breaths. His hips got slower and his grip loosened on your waist. The loss of his support sent your weakened body falling back down to the mattress. A breathless chuckle came from him as he laid down beside you, his shimmering skin luminescent in the moonlight. You presented him with a tired smile. 

“Could Enzo fuck you like that?” he asked, a proud smirk imprinted on his lips.

“I don’t know—I’ll let you know when I find out.”

[yourauthorjen]

| GOLDEN HOUR | — joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | it was just two lovers, sitting on the car listening to Blonde, falling for each other.

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, flirting, sunsets, use of nicknames/pet names, mention of reader being bullied, alcohol consumption

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | so i was listening to golden hour by jvke (if you couldn’t tell and i felt like i really had to write a scene of this. and i feel like this turned out a lot better than expected. the ending was lowkey rushed because i wanted to get this out asap.

FALL HAD JUST settled in, meaning that bonfire season had finally begun. Invitations to beach bonfires were handed out like party favours, alcohol and beer aisles had been stripped clean, and everyone was now making a beeline to their nearest beaches.

Unfortunately, Joaquin had also persuaded you into joining their shenanigans, which was why you were now stuck in his passenger seat, sulking with several cans of beer that had already become lukewarm.

“Admit it asshat, we’re lost,” you grumbled, watching him furrow his eyebrow at a passing highway sign.

"We're not lost," he said though he didn't sound too sure. "We're just... taking the scenic route."

"What you're saying is exactly what someone who's lost would say."

He didn't argue, just grinned like he always did, so full of himself but in a way you absolutely adored.

You sighed, staring out the window. The sun was dipping lower as you drove, shadows stretching across the road, painting he sky with golden and orange hues. You ripped apart one the plastic rings holding the beer cans together, and cracked the drink open.

"This is not the way to the beach," you mumbled, taking a long swig of beer, "Look, we're driving across a highway on a cliff, meaning the elevation is higher and we’re no where near getting down to the sand and water."

"C'mon mi vida,” he said “Don't be so grumpy. Consider it quality time with me."

You pretended to gag, but your heart skipped a beat at the nickname. "It's not quality time when you practically begged me to go with you. Why couldn't you go with someone else?"

He mocked a hurt face, "Because deep down you love me, and you still agreed to come with me in the end."

You jabbed a finger into his arm, "It’s called tolerating you, Joaquin. And don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he hummed, and you let out a more than dramatic exhale. He was your closest friend the two of you glued to each others side ever since high school, and now through college. He was the person you found yourself running towards to no matter the occasion. He had taken you to prom when no one else asked you, he had picked up your broken pieces when everyone you know left you. He had lived through bruised knuckles and broken fingers when you couldn't muster the courage to defend yourself from people you called friends.

And as much as you wanted to tell him the words you spent years locked up in your chest, you couldn't tell him, because you were too afraid of what the consequences could lead to.

Instead you turned back to the window, and as you stared you couldn't help but notice the way the sky spilled in different colours across the horizon, the clouds gradient shades of lavender and peach, which if you were being honest was stunning.

Eventually, the road dipped and twisted again, taking you farther away from any recognizable landmark. The highway was secluded and silent, and as your fingers fidgeted nervously you finally decided to flick on the radio, humming as it turned to life.

"Frank Ocean? Really?"

"Hey," you interjected, "You don't get a say on this, not after you threw away my perfectly fine Spotify gift card."

"It was an accident!" he protested, “Besides I bought you a new one right after."

"Okay soldier, eyes on the road."

After a few more silent minutes of driving and twisting back and fourth around turns, Joaquin slowed the car and pulled off onto a gravel shoulder near a bend in the road that looked out over the sprawling ocean bathed in the last warmth of the day.

He cut the engine as you turned to him bewildered. "What're you doing?"

"Taking a break," he said, eyes glittering, "I'm gonna try and get some cell service."

The GPS on both your phones had long since stopped offering any useful guidance, opting instead to chirp the same same "GPS Signal Lost" every few miles.

You sighed, though your lips still twitched upwards against your will. He wasn't wrong, it was cooler up here, the wind catching your hair as you propped yourself onto the hood of Joaquin's car, letting yourself shut your eyes and enjoying the soft glow of sunshine casting onto your face.

"Well, that's one hell of a view." Joaquin said, joining you as he sat on top of the car, his shoulder brushing yours. "What do you think? This better than the bonfire?"

You cracked one eye open, pretending to ponder. "I don't know Joaquin, with the distinct possibility that we might be stranded here all night instead of me drinking beer until I fall face first into the sand really sounds a lot better."

Joaquin let out a laugh, deep and heartfelt, his dark curls falling into his eyes as his amused smile widened. It made your chest ache, seeing him so carefree and untroubled, the sunlight bringing out the gold flecks in his brown eyes. He smelled like spices and a hint of pine and with his hair tousled artfully, it made your resolve wobble just a little.

"Fine," you admitted, "I guess this is pretty okay."

"Just okay?"

You rolled your eyes. “Do you want me to take it back?"

“I’m just saying,” he replied, his lips curling into a smirk, “if this were a date, it wouldn't be bad.”

Your breath caught a little but you tilted your head toward him, trying to keep your voice light. “Is it a date?”

He looked back at you, his smile faltering in a way that told you for once there wasn't some ridiculous joke waiting behind it. “Would it be the worst thing if it was?”

The world seemed to still for a moment- a change shifting your world drastically, as his eyes found yours full of love and admiration she hadn't seen before. He waited for a response, but the only thing you could muster was a weak shake of your head, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

The silence between the two of you was palpable, and the music that was still playing in the car faded into nothing. Instead you were filled with the pounding of your heart crashing louder than the waves below.

"Friends don't usually go on dates, right?" you attempted meekly, taking a shaky breath.

His jaw ticked as he shifted towards you, his body facing yours and his eyes flickering with an expression that you couldn't tell if he was about to cry, laugh, or say something sarcastic. But when he finally spoke his voice was raw, painful, and quiet in a way that made your throat constrict.

"No. No they don't."

"Joaquin..." you tried, eyes pleading as you realized your mistake, "I didn't... I-"

"It's okay," he said softly, "I get it."

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, before you grabbed his hands. They were warm but rough, his fingers curled around yours as you squeezed them tightly, silently begging for him not to leave.

He seemed to understand as you moved closer to him, close enough that your faces were only a few feet apart. You were close enough that your noses were almost touching, and close enough that you could see your reflection in his pupils. His eyes widened as your hair fell into your face, almost like a curtain hiding you away from the world as you leaned your forehead against his.

"No,” you pleaded again the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I love you, and I love you so much that I don't want to mess this up for the two of us."

His own eyes turned glassy as his forehead tipped forward to press more firmly against yours, like he needed to feel every inch of you, like just being that close wasn’t quite close enough.

“I don’t care if we mess it up,” he whispered, “I care if we don’t try.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers wrapping tighter around his. "I don’t… Please don't let me mess this up."

“You the part where I pretended I haven’t been in love with you since the first time we met?"

You cracked a watery smile as he pulled his hands out of yours, and gently cupped his hands to your face as he dipped his head and began pulling you closer and closer until—

His lips found yours, sweet with a hint of salt, and a taste that felt raw but so true. Your heart collided with your chest, as your hands found a way up to his jacket, fingers scrunching up around the fabric as he deepened the kiss.

This wasn't a drunken kiss you had once shared after a night out at the bar, nor was this the sisterly peck on the cheek you sometimes gave him for fun. This was something that you had never felt before, the warmth, the passion, and the love that you both felt so strongly for each other.

Your hands glimpsed the outline of his broad shoulders, as you both finally pulled away from each other. Your eyes darted over his sun-kissed face, and you couldn't help the stutter in your chest as his eyes softened.

"I love you too,” Joaquin breathed, "And if we’re stuck here for the rest of the night than so be it.”

You smiled—really smiled—and the heavy weight that had weighed you down for so many years finally lifted off your shoulders. It was the kind of feeling that no beach party or crowded bonfire could’ve given you.

“Then let’s get stranded,” you said, voice hoarse, as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Below you, the ocean stretched out endlessly, waves brushing the cliffs with a rhythm older than any map or compass. The sky had darkened to indigo, with just barely visible streaks of orange dotting the horizon. The stars were beginning to prick through the veil of night, and you could still hear the music from the radio playing low through the speakers—melancholy, and soft.

You felt the time slow down around you as you let Joaquin circle an arm around your waist. You let yourself be engulfed in this content moment, carefree and abiding.

You had Joaquin now.

And somehow, that felt like the way home was always supposed to look.

[halfway-happyyy]

thinking about frank's big doe eyes omgg. i just know he'd look so at peace sucking his girl's tits, the look up at her as if she's a goddess, can't believe he gets to do this and make her feel good too. need to run my hands through his hair and rub his cheek and stare at him while he relaxes. like it's not a want but a need omg</3

wait, wait, wait, why is this hitting me right in the kink button? 😵‍💫

it's the image of frank - the punisher - allowing himself to feel secure, and comforted by you in the most intimate of ways; the sheer intimacy of it can only really be replicated through cockwarming.

now, frank usually drifted off to sleep with his big warm, mitt gently caressing your breast, so when he mumbled one evening that he'd like to try something, you didn't bat an eye.

you were sitting up in bed, reading a novel, when he moved to rest his head in your lap. he looked worn out; you could see it in the deepened creases next to his eyes and in the violet shadows underneath them. his umber hair was growing long, and you brushed it out of his eyes before peering down at him.

"you okay, frankie?"

he didn't answer, but his fingers found the hem of your t shirt, and gently began to push it up, exposing your warm skin to the cool bedroom air. he turned his head slightly to press sloppy kisses to your stomach, and continued to lift your shirt up until the cool air kissed the rounded curves of your breasts.

"can I, baby?"

as if there were ever anything in the world you'd deny him of.

"yes, frank."

he had tilted his head up and sucked a nipple into his mouth, while his other hand gently massaged your free breast. the image of him like that - suckling on you, eyes closing of their own volition because he was just so at peace - was enough to get you off then and there.

it's the closest he ever gets to being in a submissive headspace.

on some nights - when he gets home late - sore and bloodied, and utterly worn out from the day, he doesn't even have to ask. he finds his way to you in the darkness, lays down in your lap, shucks your shirt up (if you're wearing one), and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

it's the glassy, blissed out look in his eyes while he's doing it, and the little groans that sound in the hollow of his throat, that really get you. it's how needy his hand is on your other breast, how sometimes it gets him so hard that he has no choice but to grind, and rock against the pillow between his legs.

"'sat feel good, frankie?" you whisper, while running your fingertips along his scalp - all of it has the man nearly whimpering.

sometimes it ends in the best sex of your life, but most of the time you're just content to offer him a shred of comfort, a shred of security in a world that has been inexplicably vicious to him for the most part.

"i've got you, frank. take what you need."

[bowiebugwrites]

My girl

@frankies-girl requested… “i love frank sorry💔💔💔 maybe something to do with… frank and the reader were unlikely acquaintances (she takes care of his wounds, or he’s their bodyguard, something along those lines). reader meets some guy at a bar or something and frank becomes ridiculously jealous of them.

cw: men are creeps all the time forever, you can feel the pining through the screen bro, language

a/n: First of all, never apologize for who you are beautiful I’ve got you covered. And then for everyone else I really recommend you read The Nurse and the Punisher before this, they’re a little tied together.

word count: (637)

You were just the girl who patched up Frank after a rough night of being the Punisher. No more. No less.

One kiss was all it took for his protective instincts to go into overdrive.

He wants nothing more than to make sure that his little personal nurse is safe. Being the Punisher puts a target on his back since he isn’t exactly operating a legal job, but that puts a target on you, who so kindly takes care of him, too. You kissed him once and he’d do anything to make sure that target stays far far away from you and all on him. But there’s only so much he can do, he can guard you from the consequences of being an ally to the Punisher, but he can’t shield you from everything forever.

He was at a bar, not quite drinking away his troubles - he never got that drunk - but just dulling the pain of a night as the Punisher. The guy got a few good hits in before Frank blew his brains out. And to his pleasant surprise, you were sitting there across the bar, running your finger around the rim of your glass. You looked particularly exhausted, probably a rough day at the hospital, probably here for the same reason Frank was. To drown it out the best you could without getting wasted.

He was trying his hardest not to be a creep, but he found himself staring. He hadn’t seen you wear something other than your scrubs given that you usually saw him right after work. It was nice to see you in your own clothes. To Frank’s dismay, a man approached you, leaning against the bar counter. Frank could feel something bubbling up in his chest. An attractive young man, talking to you? God what was this…?

Jealousy.

Pure unbridled jealously.

“Can I offer you a drink, sweetheart?” The guy said, his New York accent coming out thick.

“No thank you,” you reply, trying to scoot away without being obvious.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he said, getting a little too close. Frank was already on his feet. “Any drink you want, my treat.”

“I already told you, no,” you say, a little exasperated now.

“And I’m not buying it-“ he didn’t get a chance to get through a full sentence before Frank had him shut up. Just by setting a hand on his shoulder. And you’re eyeing him like he’s your savior.

“She already told you no, jackass,” Frank says harshly. He’s bigger than this guy by a bit, any smart individual would be packing right now. The guy just shoves his hands in his pockets, rolls his eyes and walks away. Jealous or not, Frank wouldn’t just sit by and let you get harassed. “Want me to walk you home doll?” You nod without another thought, grabbing your bag as he pays the bartender for his drink and you two get out of there.

The walk was quiet, not much needed to be said. Until you were outside your apartment and you just had to speak up.

“Did you tell that guy off because he was nothing me or just because you were jealous?” you ask, somewhere between teasing and genuinely wanting to know his thought process. Frank showing his hands into his pockets, his thumbs sticking out.

“Why can’t it be both?” He replies, keeping the same level of half joking with you. It was truly a bit of both for him. You laugh softly at the answers, looking at the ground then back up at him.

“Good night, Frank,” you say softly. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, before disappearing into the apartment building you live in. And he’s watching and he’s sure now that he’s absolutely bagged you.