#Filthy Frank was one of them (sobbing) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amhrosina · 2 years ago

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Show Me How Much You Missed Me (Matt Murdock x f!Reader x Frank Castle)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: This is filthy. Like, FILTHY. I’m ashamed. Brooke, look away!!!! Also, where do we land on the whole cum/come thing??? I tried “come” out in this one, and I can’t decide if I like it spelled this way or not. Let me know (you can send me an anonymous ask if you don’t want to comment that lmfao)!

This can be read separately from Play Time, but it’s a continuation of it, so if you feel like it, read both!

(Part 1)

request: poly!mattfrank when reader finally uses their safeword because they were being to rough, and that practically kills them because of the guilt they feel, to the point where they don't touch reader for almost a week

Summary: You get overwhelmed during playtime and use your safe word, spurring a tense few days as you, Frank, and Matt try to figure out how to interact with each other afterwards.

(Warnings: oh god so much smut, oral (fem & male receiving), p in v penetration, reader gets overwhelmed during playtime, cursing, somewhat dom!Frank & dom!Matt, reader & matt & frank go to paris, it’s literally all smut like don’t read past this line if you don’t want to read the smuttiest smut I’ve ever written, a little angst I guess, I probably missed a warning or two)

It had been a bad week, the worst week, if you really thought about it. Through no fault of your own, important packages had been mixed up at work, causing your boss to lose his shit on the only person within yelling distance, aka: you. Then, you’d managed to spill coffee all over your dress, which made you inexplicably late the next morning. And if that weren’t enough, you’d dropped your phone in your mug of tea today and hadn’t been able to turn it on since then.

All you wanted to do was relax and unwind when you got home from what felt like the longest week of your life. Frank and Matt had noticed your growing tension, but neither had mentioned anything to you about it. You always came to them with problems when you were ready and had sorted through your feelings, so they offered silent support while they waited for you to work through it in your head.

When Friday night finally came around, all you’d wanted was some time away from responsibility. You wanted to give yourself fully to your boys, let them make the decisions for you, and let them take care of you until you forgot about the shitty week you’d had.

That was how you ended up in your current position: wrists tied to the headboard behind you, blindfolded, and overwhelmed with pleasure. Frank was stationed at the end of the bed, holding your hips up so he could properly pound into you. Matt was by your side, fingers working your clit so hard you could barely breathe. Everything was going to plan, everything was working, until it wasn’t.

“Our pretty girl,” Matt coed in your ear, “So wet for us.”

Matt’s hand came down in a harsh slap on your pussy. You jolted forward at the unexpected contact, panting. Frank hoisted your hips up further, slamming into you at an untethered pace. Tears pricked your eyes, and you couldn’t quite figure out if they were out of pleasure or pain. You didn’t know how to feel.

On the one hand, you had asked for this, and Matt and Frank were doing exactly what you’d asked them to do, but now you were so far in your own head about what a shitty week you’d had that you couldn’t find the pleasure you’d been searching for earlier. And yet, you couldn’t open your mouth and ask them to stop. You’d never used your safe word before, and you weren’t sure how they’d react if you tried. Would they be upset? Would they be angry?

You must’ve stiffened, because Matt was no longer whispering in your ear, nor was he touching you. Frank had paused his movement too, and you could only guess that he and Matt were communicating silently, the way they always did when it came to you.

“Kitten,” Matt murmured, “Are you okay?”

A rush of tears welled in your eyes, and your bottom lip began to wobble in anticipation of the sob crawling up your throat.

“Satin.” You mumbled, finally allowing yourself to express the pent-up emotions you’d been harboring all week. Tears stained the blindfold, still covering your eyes, and you turned your face away from the both of them, crying into the pillow next to your head.

Frank and Matt moved at an unrivaled pace. Matt was quick to untie your wrists from the headboard, while Frank pulled out of you and removed your blindfold. It all happened very quickly, and suddenly they were on either side of you, pulling you into a comforting hold.

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed, resting your forehead on Frank’s chest.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Did we hurt you?” Frank asked, stroking your hair. Matt was pressed against your back, arms circled around you in a firm hold. You were between your two boys, safe and loved.

You shook your head, sniffling. “No, I’m just a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, sweetheart.” Matt corrected, nuzzling into your back.

You didn’t respond, too caught up in your head to reveal the reason you were so emotional, and eventually, you fell asleep, wrapped in the arms of the only two men you’d ever be comfortable enough to love.

It was days later when you realized there might be a problem. All weekend, Matt and Frank had barely touched you, the only contact between the three of you being when you first awoke and had managed to tangle yourself in their arms. Other than that, they were overly cautious around you, almost like they were walking on eggshells.

When you’d tried to initiate contact, one or both of them would come up with a reason they couldn’t stay for long. Late night patrols and client meetings cropped up randomly, and at the most inconvenient times, like when you were minutes away from unbuckling Matt’s pants and putting your mouth on him. The excuses were becoming less and less believable, and you were growing more frustrated by the hour.

You’d finally had enough on Wednesday evening. You were currently stationed in front of the door, refusing to move out of Matt’s way as he tried to rush out of the house again. Frank was watching this interaction from the hallway, nervously wringing his hands as you stood your ground.

“You are not leaving, Matthew.”

“Sweetheart, I have an important meeting with a client tomorrow. I have to brush up on the case against them.”

“You have all your work stuff here." You glanced at his briefcase sitting on the coffee table. “Why do you keep leaving?”

“I’m just busy at work, Kitten.”

“No.” You shook your head, glancing at Frank for help. Tears threatened to spill, and you had to gulp down your emotions before you continued. “No, something’s up. Why haven’t either of you touched me since Friday? I’ve tried and both of you keep shutting me down. Are you angry with me?”

“No, sweetheart.” Frank pushed himself off the wall, moving toward you and Matt. “No, there’s nothing to be angry about. I promise.”

“Well then why are you guys acting like this?” Your hands shook with anger and confusion. Frank and Matt were both hands-on kind of guys, but they hadn’t so much as laid a hand on you in days.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Matt mumbled, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We didn’t want to hurt you again, that’s all.” Frank revealed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hurt me?” Your brow furrowed, and suddenly their odd behavior over the past few days made total sense to you. “You thought you hurt me on Friday? When I said the safe word?”

“Why else would you say the safe word?” The confusion on Frank’s face was clear, and you were overwhelmed with a sense of relief. They still loved you, and all three of you were idiots. You shook your head, rubbing your face with your hands.

“I was just overwhelmed. I had a bad week last week, and I couldn’t focus, and I just needed a hug and a second to think through my feelings, but you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Matt asked

“Completely. Is that why you guys won’t touch me? Because you thought you hurt me?”

“We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Frank said, shyly placing his hand on your lower back.

“That’s not possible.” You grinned, unable to hide your giggle at how ridiculous the entire affair was. “Will someone please touch me now?”

Matt grunted, cupping your jaw and pulling your lips against his. It was a vicious kiss, full of longing and regret, but you opened yourself to him completely. You felt it in your bones – your soul reached out to them in desire, longing to feel loved again. You ripped your mouth away from Matt’s and turned to Frank, kissing him with equal ferocity.

Matt followed your movements, pressing himself into your back as he kissed your neck. Frank wrapped one hand around your waist and the other around Matt’s shoulder, pulling both of you toward him with a lustful grunt.

“You wanna play, Kitten?” Frank smiled into the kiss as Matt taunted you.

“Yes. Show me how much you missed me.” You mumbled, reaching for Frank’s belt buckle.

“Gentle or rough, sweet girl?”

“I don’t want to be able to walk for a week.”

Matt groaned into your neck, all too eager to oblige you. Frank was already working on pulling your shirt over your head, and you shimmied out of your pants so fast that you almost lost your balance in the process. Frank chuckled, hoisting you into the air so that you could wrap your legs around him.

As he walked toward the bedroom that the three of you shared, you made sure to grab onto the collar of Matt’s shirt and tug him along. He would’ve followed you anyway, but you wanted to make sure he knew how much you wanted him there. He was always the more sensitive one when it came to upsetting you.

Frank set your legs down softly on the bedroom floor, and you immediately dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Can I taste you?” you asked, blinking up at Frank with an innocent smile on your face. It took everything Frank had not to drop to his knees and join you on the floor. He’d do anything for you, but when you had that look in your eyes, he’d be content with burning the world if that’s what would make you happy.

“And you?” you asked, placing your hand on Matt’s leg as he moved past you.

“We’re supposed to be making you feel good, Kitten.” Matt replied, smirk on his face.

“I want to make you feel good, too.” You mumbled, looking back and forth between them.

Matt’s smirk grew as he bent down, placing his fingers below your jaw and tugging upwards to pull you off your knees. Frank grunted in disapproval, but Matt clicked his tongue before Frank could say anything. Matt’s smirk told you he had a plan that would please everyone.

“Hands and knees. On the bed.” Matt placed his hands in his pockets in a casual gesture. You tried to keep yourself from drooling at how attractive he always managed to be, even when he wasn’t trying.

“Now, Kitten.” he urged, impatient as ever.

You lurched forward, eager to please him, and jumped on the bed, pulling your clothes off in the process. Matt pulled Frank in front of you by his belt, and you drooled at the contact. They didn’t always give a lot of attention to each other in the bedroom, but when they did, you melted inside.

Matt made his way behind you, walking at a seductively slow pace. Your mouth watered as Frank unbuckled his belt, pulling out his hard length and pumping it a few times. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, which earned you a stunted groan. As you wrapped your lips around Frank’s cock, Matt’s hand made contact with your ass. You moaned, pushing your head further down Frank’s length. Matt’s fingers drew a trail through your folds, and the sound of his breath sucking in as you soaked his fingers was enough to fuel your ego for a month.

“Matty.” You whined, arching your back further. “Touch me, please.”

“Can I taste you?” He asked, and you physically felt yourself flood with desire. His raspy tone, a steady reminder that you’d invited the Devil to share your bed, sent a rhythmic pounding to your core.

“Please.” You moaned, wrapping your lips around Frank’s length again.

Matt didn’t hold back. He swiped his tongue up your folds, spurring an unholy moan from you.

“Sweet.” Matt mumbled, before attacking your clit with his tongue.

It was a flurry of grunts and moans, and you were so worked up from not getting any attention over the past few days that your orgasm was already fast approaching. Matt was a master with his tongue, and your legs began to shake within seconds of him licking your cunt from top to bottom.

Frank pulled your hair behind your head, lightly thrusting into your mouth. You took him deeper, eyes watering, and when he finally thrusted into your throat, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming all over Matt’s tongue. It hit you like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of you while also lifting you higher than you’d been in weeks. You grunted, moaned, and groaned as Matt continued licking at your cunt, content to stay in that exact position until he lapped up every drop of your orgasm.

When he finally pulled away, you moaned in short-lived relief. Matt loved to overstimulate you, but what you really wanted was for him to fuck the life out of you. Matt ran his hands over your ass, gripping the skin so hard you were sure there would be bruises the next day. The jingle of his belt buckle hitting the ground made your toes curl, and desire ran through you so fast that you took Frank as deep as you could manage.

Frank grunted, pleased with your neediness, and began thrusting harder into your mouth. Matt lined himself up with your entrance, swiping his length through your folds for good measure. You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, so you arched your back even further, whining so that Matt could hear how bad you wanted him.

“You’re doing so good, Kitten.” Frank murmured, tightening his hold on your hair. “Isn’t she doing so good, Red?”

Matt ran a hand down your spine, sending shivers throughout your body.

“She’s perfect.” Matt panted before pushing himself inside you.

Everything was still for a moment as you adjusted to Matt’s length in you. He was big, and you hadn’t been thoroughly fucked in days, so the pressure was intense for a moment. When you finally resumed bobbing your head up and down Frank’s cock, Matt began thrusting into you.

He started slow, matching Frank’s soft thrusts until he knew you were okay. You pushed back against him, asking him to go faster, and he eagerly obliged. Matt pounded into you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, while Frank thrusted into your mouth at the same speed. You were overwhelmed with pleasure and so turned on that it didn’t surprise you when you could feel the beginning of another orgasm forming in your core.

“You ‘gonna come, Kitten?” Frank asked, pulling your hair back so that you could look in his eyes. You nodded bashfully, cheeks growing warm at the attention.

“Not yet, Kitten.” Matt murmured, thrusting so deep inside of you that you swore you saw stars.

You whined as you tried to stave off your orgasm. You didn’t think they would punish you if you came too early tonight, but you didn’t want to take that chance. For once, your bratty alter-ego was happy to remain on the sidelines. They pounded into you from both sides, and your moans grew louder as you continued to try and ignore the pounding in your core.

“C’mon, Red. Let her come.”

Frank grinned as Matt sighed and leaned closer to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, sliding his fingers across your pussy until he landed on your clit. A spark of unbridled need flowed through you, and as soon as he started moving his fingers, you were on the verge of exploding.

“Come, Kitten.” Matt commanded. And you did.

You sagged forward, dropping Frank’s length from your mouth as you let out a sinful moan into the mattress. Your entire body tensed as the waves of your orgasm crashed through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks as Matt continued to pound into you.

When you could finally breathe again, Matt pulled you up against his chest and wrapped his hand around your throat. You rested your head on his shoulder as his sloppily thrusted into you. His breath hitched, and you knew he was seconds away from coming.

“Where do you want me to come, Kitten?”

“I want you to fill me up, Matty. I want both of you to.” You panted.

Matt grunted, then let out a stunted moan as he came in you. The hand around your throat tightened, and Matt pressed his forehead into your shoulder as he panted. You heaved a breathy sigh, and tried to wilt against Matt, but Frank had other ideas.

Frank hoisted you in the air, flipping you over and dropping you on the bed on your back. Matt flopped down next to you, taking your chin in his hand and bringing his lips to yours in a sweet, apologetic kiss. Matt still felt bad about essentially ignoring you for days. He always sat in his guilt for longer than most, but you and Frank didn’t mind coaxing him out of his shell when he needed it. You’d no doubt have to remind him later that he had nothing to feel guilty about.

“Hold on to somethin’, Kitten.” Frank grumbled, wrapping his arms around your thighs and roughly pulling you toward him.

Frank slammed into you, spurring a loud moan out of you. He pounded into you at an animalistic pace, and the only thing that kept you from flying off the bed was Matt’s grip on your waist. Matt gave his attention to your chest and nipples, flicking his tongue across the nubs as you cried out in ecstasy. The room became a multitude of sounds – skin slapping skin, whining moans, and Frank’s muted grunts as he ruined you.

When Matt dropped his hand to your clit, you lost all sense of composure. You lurched forward, allowing your third orgasm to crash over you. You became a delirious hot mess, so worn out and happy that you barely registered Frank coming in you soon after.

Frank slumped down next to you, breathing hard into the mattress as the three of you came down from your highs. When your heartrate finally returned to normal and you felt like you could breathe again, you leaned over Frank, pulling a large blanket off the end of the bed and spreading it out over the three of you. You laid back, pulling both of the boys’ heads into your chest.

“I love you guys.” You murmured, kissing both of them on the head.

“We love you, sweetheart.” Frank said, still panting.

“The next time I use the safe word, you guys can’t freak out like this, okay? I trust both of you to take care of me. I just needed a second to think.”

“Okay.” The two men grumbled, already half asleep from the happenings of the evening. You snuggled into Matt’s chest, pulling Frank’s arms around you as you moved. You took a deep breath, so content to stay in this position with your boys forever. If you asked, they’d probably figure out a way to make it work. They’d do anything for you, and that is exactly the way you like it.

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truckreincarnation · 10 months ago

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Confession Pt. 2 || Theophania || Trial 4.5 || Re: Avery, Manami

No! No, goddammit! There Avery was, thwarting her plans. She'd hurt them once again, not unlike only a few short hours prior. That brief moment of peace shared between them in Avery's room. That look of anguish on their face. There it was again, with their words only acting as more and more knives to the chest with each one.

Avery had refused to promise her one thing. They'd said they would protect her no matter what. Should've figured that also meant from herself.

Theophania's hope was that everyone would be too angry to find the holes in her story, but Avery intercepted before anyone but Bian could say a word. She clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt, her teeth grinding together.

Why would you have used the thing you know I love to murder someone on purpose?

Those words stung more than anything. She wondered how Avery would react if she said yes. If they would yell at her, scream at her, just like she deserved. It would be easy.

But she just couldn't do that. She couldn't lie to them. And she certainly couldn't cause them pain, even if it meant she'd get her due punishment. Losing Avery was the least she could do to repent, but watching that look of pain on their face... She didn't know whether it was the selfishness of wanting to keep them, or the fact she just loved them too much to see them in pain. Either way, they told her to finally be honest.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then Manami chimed in.

Do you hate us that much?

How could she even answer that? All of the words she'd pushed down started bubbling to the surface. All the things she'd hidden, tried to get over. Now was hardly the time to hash it all out, but like the bomb that went off at the Gate, she was threatening to explode.

"...I hate you... That's right, I hate you!" The words tumbled out, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. Tears pooled in her eyes. "I hate all of you people so damn much! I hate that you were so quick to abandon Meili in favor of her unrepentant killer! I hate that you all pick and choose your morals based on how much you like a person! I hate how untrustworthy you all, how I've sacrificed my own power because I thought it was better! Because I thought I had to! Become a healer to boost everyone else's strength, you can rely on them to protect you! Except I can't because you've all proven time and time again that I can't trust any of you to do that right thing or have my back! So now I'm weak and pathetic and vulnerable and scared. I promised myself I wouldn't help any of you anymore! I would put myself first! So why...s-so why...I hate you all so much, so why did I still try to save Frank anyway?"

She couldn't control the wretched sobs that escaped her. The way her body shook and shivered from the exertion of it all. Ever since this trial began, she'd been holding everything back. The pain, the guilt, the emotion. It was all too much. But everything needed to come out.

"...And I hate that the one thing I can rely on you all to do, to yell, and scream, and insult, and accuse...you didn't do. I h-hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate...th-that you won't just punish me already, like I deserve. Because I'm a filthy killer."

She had truly never felt more repulsive. She hid her face in her hands as she continued to cry. She hadn't given any answers, not really. Avery wanted the truth. She had to pull it together long enough to. She had to. She had to. If she couldn't do this one thing for the one remaining person she cared about left, then what worth was she?

"...Purify..." Success. She only had one charge of this. She wanted to save it for Avery later, before her execution, so she could Purify their pain away. So they wouldn't have to struggle when she marched to her death.

The overwhelming emotional distress faded away into a distant hum, enough that she could pull herself together. She tugged her hands away from her face, tear streaks and makeup smears covering it.

"...I built the bomb and placed it by the Gate. Then I backed up as much as I was able while still being able to see it, and I used the slingshot to sling the knockout bomb at the larger one. That's what detonated it." She stared down solemnly at her feet. "...No one else was supposed to be there. I studied days in advance, memorizing the patrol patterns of Cap, but I didn't calculate anyone else coming out there into my plans. I didn't even see or hear Frank and Luz. If I had...I never would have detonated that bomb. Putting myself at risk...that's one thing, but I wouldn't do that to anyone else. I should've studied the barrier first. I should've done a test, like Avery said. But I was reckless and desperate. I hate this place. I thought...I thought if there was a big enough explosion..." She couldn't even finish. It didn't matter. There was no point making excuses. "...I only saw Frank after the explosion, and it was only because he was moving. I didn't even know Luz was with him. My head was in a haze, but I thought...this was my fault, he shouldn't die because of it, so I sent my Phoenix Blossom over to him, but...he refused it. For Luz. I didn't know... I didn't know..."

At least, if she'd been conscious a little longer, if she'd just seen Luz there...maybe she could've at least saved one of the victims of her negligence.

#Theophania #ch4 #trial4 #submission

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butwhyduh · 3 years ago

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Been Awhile

Roy Harper x reader

Summary: he’s been gone for a mission and comes back home mad thirsty

Warning: smut, Roy has a filthy mouth

You were totally fine. You didn’t almost burn out the motor to your toy while looking at pictures of Roy while imagining licking his tattoos and then everywhere else. It had been a full month since you last saw him and you were missing him so much at this point that you missed his tinkering and the smell of a soldering iron.

The first thing Roy did was pick up Lian from her aunt Artemis’s house and brought her home. He had stopped and got her the biggest Lego set he could find.

“This says 8 and up but I’m only 6,” she squealed.

“Since you can read that it’s 8 and up, I think you’ll do fine. Now let’s build a castle. Do you want a Princess or dragon?” Roy asked dumping it out on the carpet.

“A Princess dragon!” She said as if it was obvious.

“What was I thinking? Of course, a Princess dragon,” he said and they started building. You grabbed them a snack and joined them on the floor. Roy’s attention was on Lian but he occasionally gazed at you before going back to playing. After a few hours, Lian started yawning as it was close to bed.

“Alright kiddo, why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? It’s getting late now,” Roy said getting up and stretching. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his shirt rose just enough to see a strip of flat stomach. Roy grinned at you when he noticed.

He spent the next 20 minutes getting Lian in bed and another 20 minutes wasting time cleaning up while waiting for her to go to sleep. Roy kept his eyes on you. Staring at your ass as you bent to pick up a stuffed animal, your breasts when you put another toy on a high shelf. And when he was certain that Lian was asleep, he pounced.

“Baby,” Roy said pulling you close by the hips. You covered a giggle with your hand before wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fuck have I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” You replied. Roy kissed you and his hands roamed your body; running across your back and down to cup your ass and up to squeeze your breasts. “Eager,” you said with a little smirk.

“You don’t even fucking know,” he muttered against your skin. You could feel his hardness against your thigh. You wanted him for sure but you weren’t that ready to go. “Couldn’t even rub one out because it was fucking communal showers and bunks. So it’s been 2 weeks. I had a wet dream the other night like I was a fucking teenager.”

“Damn Roy,” you flushed at his language. He started peeling your shirt off. “The bedroom, not here,” you insisted. He pulled you along quickly. As soon as the door shut, he was yanking your shirt and bra off.

“Fuck baby, your tits,” he whined before bending to kiss and nip at them. He looked up at you with a smiling mouth full of nipple causing you to shiver. He playfully lapped at the bud. “I’ve miss you girls,” he said giving the other breast attention, causing you to laugh. “We’re having a very important conversation here. Excuse us,” he joked to you while cupping them both.

“Hey now,” you laugh. “Can we get to the bed first?”

Roy picked you up over his shoulder as you squealed. He turned his head to gently sink his teeth in the meat of your ass. You jumped in surprise. “Nice ass. Take a bite out of it,” he murmured and did it again before laying you on the bed and crawling beside you.

You turned to your side and started kissing. You pulled Roy’s shirt off at one point and started kissing down his neck and the next thing you knew, you were on top of him, rubbing him through his boxers. He was already throbbing.

“You think you could?” He asked looking down. “I’ve been dreaming about your mouth for days.”

“Damn, you’re thirsty,” you said with a laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he whined. “I swear that sex is the only thing on my mind. I can’t handle going this long.”

“These full,” you asked, reaching your hand in his shorts and cupping his balls. He hissed and leaned into your touch with a nod. “I’ll take pity on you,” you teased.

“Just a little blow job,” he asked.

You started kissing down his chest while pushing his shorts down his legs. Roy was already leaking hard. You ran your hand up his thigh and jerked him a few times and gently cupped his balls before going back and forth. Roy was already breathing heavy and his pale skin was flushed red as his hair.

You playfully ran your fingers through the thatch of reddish brown hair above his dick and Roy’s hips moved towards your hand. It was intoxicating to see him so worked up. Sure, Roy always had a high sex drive but he loved the build up and act of sex just as much as the release usually but you could tell that his mind was only on getting off today.

You finally took him in your mouth and Roy let out a shaky breath. You sucked at the head while gently jerking the base. Roy was so fucking hard and was making so much noise that you were throbbing between your own legs. Thank god Lian was all the way across the apartment.

“Fuck, baby. Better than I imagined,” Roy breathed. He was gripping the sheets tightly in hand. You looked up at him and ran your free hand over the divots of his abs and Roy closed his eyes. He knew if he watched you suck him off, he would but almost immediately.

But then you cupped his balls while hollowing your cheeks as you took him deep and he spasmed and came suddenly. “I-“ was all he got out before a warm bitter wetness filled your mouth. Roy pushed your shoulders back to where his dick wasn’t in your mouth anymore but it didn’t help because instead he came on your face.

“Oh,” you gasped while trying to be a good girlfriend and jerk him through his high.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said as he came down from his high. “I didn’t mean- I was gonna warn you but I couldn’t even speak,” he said with a dry chuckle. “Shit, that wasn’t the plan,” he said. Roy quickly grabbed his shirt to wipe your face off.

“It’s okay, babe,” you said with a smile. You climbed up and kissed him on the lips. Roy smiled at you. “I mean, I made you cum so hard you couldn’t speak. I’d take that as a compliment.”

“You definitely should. And when my soul returns to my body, I am definitely gonna blow your brains out,” he said and you huffed out a laugh. His casual frank sex language always got you.

“Yeah?” You asked as Roy held you close.

“Yep! Gonna try to see if I can make you cry or squirt when you cum,” he added.

“Roy,” you exclaimed and he laughed.

“Babe, I saw the fucking light when I came,” he said. “No joke. And I was thinking about you on the way home and had to think about baseball scores cuz I started chubbing up. Like a teenager or something.”

You covered his mouth with your hand. “That’s enough of that,” you said and he laughed before licking your hand.

“You won’t be saying that later,” he smirked.

“Yeah?” You challenged. Roy flipped you on your back and climbed over you.

“Absolutely. Now show me that pretty little pussy.”

“Roy!”

“Aww come on. It’s adorable when you get all flustered,” he said. You didn’t answer but let him pull your shorts off. Roy had a pleased smile on his face. “Fuck, my imagination has nothing on this,” he muttered while kissing down your chest. He opened your legs wide while roughly pulling a nipple in his mouth. You gasped as he let it go to repeat the same on the other side. He slid his tongue messily over your chest before planting wet kisses down your stomach.

Roy pushed your knees back to where you were wide and exposed to him. You shivered as he looked you over almost predatorily. Roy kissed down your leg and skipped over your pussy before going back up the other leg. He even kissed your hips and mound before moving down.

“Absolutely drenched,” he whispered. Roy lapped at your outer folds and even sucked on on before moving inward with precision. He knew what he was doing. You were panting by the time his tongue pierced between your folds and into your core. Roy started tongue fucking you and you let out breathy moans. You gripped the headboard behind you.

Roy grew more aggressive and messy in the best way. One hand held your legs up and the other squeezed and teased your breasts. It didn’t take long for you to whimper his name desperately in hopes he would finally pay attention to your clit. Knowing exactly what you wanted, he started lapping at the bud before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You moaned far louder than you mean as he sucked your clit like a dying man.

“Don’t stop,” you whined and Roy’s hand that was grabbing your breast moved to hold your thigh to let his mouth dive deeper into your pussy. He was absolutely destroying you in the best way with sucking and lapping and swirling your clit with his very talented mouth and tongue. He could see you were close. The sounds you make and how your core would clench around nothing. Roy kept going and was rewarded with a sound like a sob before you whimpered out his name and spasmed below him. His mouth suddenly flooded with fluid that he happily lapped at through your high until you pushed his face away. He gave a chaste kiss to you sensitive clit that had you jumping and gasping before climbing back up your body to lay beside you.

“Still got it,” he said with a grin. You rolled your eyes while scooting on top of him.

“Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Harper,” you muttered with no real heat.

“What? I’m back to last name? I gave you a mind numbing orgasm and I get last named,” he pouted.

“It was alright,” you teased.

“That sob at the end said otherwise,” he protested with a roguish grin. You covered his mouth with your hand.

“Okay, ruining the afterglow there speedy,” you said. He laughed.

“Okay Princess. Let’s get you some sleep. That way I can wake you up before Lian gets up and actually fuck,” he said pulling the blankets over you both.

“Shhhh, less words.”

#roy harper x reader #roy harper smut #roy harper imagines #friday night smut #dc #arsenal x reader #dc fanfic #dc smut #dc fanfic smut

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years ago

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Ok so I've been coming back here to reread all of your work and I never get tired of it (the NSFW alphabet one is low-key my favorite one 👀) and let me tell you that you're one of my favorite writers and love all of your work.

You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but do you have hc of how Billy Russo would react/ be when he finds out that he's going to be a father? Based on your NSFW alphabet you did for him, you described him as a (extremely) sweet and caring person and I couldn't help to think about how he would be if he ever had a kid of his own.

(Once again, feel free to ignore this if you want to or feel uncomfortable doing it. It's a thought that hass been in my head for a while and wanted to get it out of my system lmao 😂)

First off, thank you! I really appreciate that 🥺🖤🖤🖤

Also, I love talking about headcanons, never worry about asking me about them lmao

So I just wanna say since I did write a multi chapter series about how Billy walked away when he found out that like, the idea for that happened because the first part, his letter to you, is what came to my head. And I wanted to write something sad and angsty. I feel like he's much more likely to stick around in all honesty but the boys got so many issues who even knows loool

But I just wanted to point that out because this will be different and I don't want people to be like; 'But Thalia... you did a whole thing where he left...' 😂

So yeah lmao

Remember, this is my Billy. AU, still bros with Frank Billy 👀😂🖤

I've split this into a few scenarios because I feel like there would be small differences depending on the context.

One night stand:

You had a one night stand with Billy. An amazing, ruin you for other men, kind of one night stand. But then you found out you were pregnant and went to Anvil to tell him. Of course when you turn up there he has no idea the bomb you're about to drop on him. Instead, he gives you a filthy smirk as you enter his office.

"Couldn't stay away?"

When you tell Billy you're pregnant, there's a long moment where he just blinks at you and you're pretty sure you might have broke him.

He cycles through a million and one emotions before it settles on a mix of sheer terror, shock and happiness.

He tries not to get offended when you blurt out that you'd understand if he didn't want to be part of his baby's life. He didn't want his kid to grow up feeling like he didn't love them. He's not his mother.

You're not offended when the first words to leave his lips are asking if the baby is definitely his. Its a valid question since you'd slept with him just hours after meeting him in a bar.

He tells you he wants to be there and of course he takes care of all medical bills and even tries to convince you to let him buy you a better place to live. Somewhere closer to him so you and the baby will be close by.

It wasn't planned or expected by any means but he wants to be there.

Casual sex/friends with benefits:

Billy comes over expecting to get some great sex and instead has you thrusting a pregnancy test in his hands. You're scared and upset and have no idea how he'll react. You've been sleeping together for a while but been friends for longer than that. His commitment issues are exactly why you're worried.

He sits down and stares at it, letting his brain try to absorb the fact he's going to be a dad. He feels the shot of anxiety run through him, wondering if he can do it. What kind of dad could he be? His own mother never loved him, would he be capable of loving a child?

But he knows the answer is yes. Because despite not even being in a relationship with you and this coming out of the blue, he feels excitement welling inside of him and he doesn't even realise he's smiling at the test in his hands.

When he looks back at you, sees how scared you are, he feels a pang of something in his chest that feels an awful lot like panic. He asks what you want to do, scared of the answer you'll give him. But of course you scoff and tell him you're keeping the baby.

Relief and happiness flood his body then as he gets up, hugging you tightly and stroking your hair.

"You don't gotta worry. I'll take care of you both, I promise."

And he means it. Once again he pays all the medical bills and he shockingly tells you he'd like to make a real go out of what you two have.

He buys a house for you and the baby but doesn't pressure you about him living there too. He let's you set the pace for what's happening between you.

Relationship/marriage:

He cries. Like a lot. Planned or not, the news has him weeping like a little girl. You're living together so he notices when you're feeling unwell. Notices that you haven't had your period since he normally gets you ice-cream and also gets you pads and things if you need them. He doesn't say anything though until you do.

So he gets the test for you. The pair of you sit on the bed after you did what you needed, a timer on his phone. The test is on the dresser across the room. Both of you are silent. Overwhelmed by what might happen. He really wants it to be positive. (If this wasn't planned then when you told him you might be, he started to really think about it and found he wanted a baby with you).

When the timer goes off you both jump up comically but hesitate near the dresser. Billy ends up being the one brave enough to look. You watch his reaction for a moment and you're startled when his eyes water, the way he looks at you with a beaming smile as the tears fall without him even noticing.

"We're havin' a baby!" He grins like a mad man, picking you up and twirling you around.

He's so excited that the second your feet hit the ground, he's on the phone to Frank telling him the news. Still crying, mind you.

Once he's made his phone calls, he tells you the penthouse is being left behind. He's buying a house near the Castle's for your new little family.

Both he and Frank fix it up and decorate it.

No matter which scenario it happens:

Billy goes to every appointment with you, every ultrasound. The first time he sees his baby, he cries. When he finds out if its a boy or girl, he cries. When he first feels the baby kick, he cries. When the baby's born, he's a mess. He attends every class with you and reads all the books he can get his hands on. And of course he asks Frank for advice about anything and everything.

He frequently talks to your bump, regalling the baby with tales of his life or reading from a book. He takes good care of you, anything you need, he gets you. You want pickles and a donut at 4am? Don't worry, Billy's got you. You need crazy good sex because the hormones are driving you up the wall? Billy's got you. You're sobbing because you feel like a beached whale and none of your clothes, even the pregnancy ones fit you? Billy's there. Telling you that you're absolutely beautiful. Radiant even. He gets one of his guys to buy you a bunch of clothes that fit and he cuddles you until you feel better. He dotes on you constantly, always calls and texts if he's not with you to make sure you're okay.

When you go into labour, he's there holding your hand and cheering you on the whole time. And the second the babys there, he's sobbing and smiling like an idiot. When he first holds his baby, it's a feeling he's never felt before. He feels complete in every way. So full of love he just might burst from it. And while a tiny part of him grieves for the baby version of himself that didn't seem to ever have that, he's overwhelmed by the pure happiness and love as he gazes down at his little ones face.

"Shit... you're so perfect."

He vows to be the best damn father he can be and the baby will never feel unloved for even a second.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo headcanons

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tear-soaked-cheeksdonteverlast · 3 years ago

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Hi Miriam! 45 & 53 please? ❤️

Thank you so much, Calli! I really hope you like it!

45 Hurt/Comfort and 53 Terry's Dead/In Prison

Mickey is waiting in police custody when he head the news. He was brought in for questioning concerning some illegal activity on the Southside, and since he's the most tolerable Milkovich, as well as one who's usually in trouble and smart enough to make a deal, Tony decided to take him in.

A phone rings. Tony walks away, leaving Mickey alone in the holding cell with a couple of drunkards, one of them Frank, of course, and a fourteen-year-old that was busted dealing weed in school.

Mickey is about to give the teen some much needed advice, maybe rope him into the business, when he feels a set of eyes on him. He looks in their direction and sees Tony looking at him. His eyes are soft in a way that makes his gut twist.

He can't fully hear or lipread what Tony is saying. He only sees the tolerable cop hang up the phone, only to grab his mobile and immediately call someone else. Why???

The only word Mickey's sure Tony says is "Ian". What is he doing calling his husband on his personal phone during work hours? Is it Frank? Mickey eyes the old man in the cell with him. He's still breathing, so probably not.

Finally Tony comes back. "Mick," Mickey groans. He hates it that this cop calls him by his first name, despite the fact that he is friends with Ian. "your father just died."

Mickey stares at him blankly. The information is not processing at all. Tony just keeps talking.

"Prison riot. Him and his cronies set the cell block on fire and tried to blame it on the black prisoners, to try and gain sympathy. It totally backfired. They all died in the flames or by smoke inhalation after the ceiling caught fire. He..."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up you filthy cop!" Mickey suddenly yells, tears in his eyes that are frustrating him more than anything else. "Why the fuck would you tell me something like this? Is this a new way to extract information or something? That fucking asshole is still alive and kicking. He has to be. He isn't done ruining my life. You're just giving me false hope that he finally kicked the bucket."

The tears are now streaming down Mickey's face, his voice breaking a little. He's frustrated most of all. Tony is opening and closing his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Suddenly, in the midst of a new rant, there's Ian. He janks the door open and pulls Mickey into his arms. Mickey struggles for a moment, only to break down his husband's arms, crying.

"He can't be dead. He can't take the easy way out like that. Tell me that fucking cop is lying."

Ian pets his hair, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. "He's not. Terry's dead. Tony called to come and get you."

Mickey sobs some more, while Ian pushes Frank back to the bench he came from when he tries to insert himself into the situation, probably trying to get an easy out of jail free card.

"Fuck off, Frank. This is not about you and no one likes you." Ian bites at him, not listening to his response.

Mickey buries his face further into Ian's chest. "Why am I crying? I should be ecstatic? I’ve been waiting on this day my entire life? I should be dancing on his blackened corpse”

Ian senses Mickey becoming more upset and pulls him closer. “Let’s go home. Get some fried chicken on the way. We can dance on his grave tomorrow.”

Mickey reaches up for a soft kiss. It’s messy with tears and snot and Mickey’s wobbly lip, but it helps him quiet down a lot.

Frank once again tries to use his son and son-in-law as an escape, only to run into Mickey’s middle finger. “Fuck off, Frank. No one likes you.”

They leave and end up in their bed in the Gallagher residence, drinking beer, smoking, and eating fried chicken. They cuddle as Mickey cries and curses. Ian stays quiet, holding him, being there, kissing him whenever he’s winding himself up too much or getting dangerously close to spiralling. Sometimes Mickey doesn’t know what to say and Ian just strokes his hair until he does, murmuring ‘I know, Mick. I know.’

When it gets time for bed, Ian gives Mickey the best blowie he’s had in weeks, just to get his mind off things long enough to fall asleep in his husband’s arms.

Send me two numbers and help me procrastinate some more

#This isn't a fully fledged story just yet but I hope you still like it #gallavich #shameless #shameless fic #canon divergence but not completely #also it said prison but a holding cell is good enough I hope #Also #welcome back Tony the cop #gallavich prompts #shameless prompts

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unwanted-animal · 3 years ago

Text

Matt/Frank : T E E T H

Explicit. M/M.

Tags/CW: Teeth, Mouth Likely, Consensual Torture, Blood, Tooth Trauma, Dark, Romance, Don/sub, Rutting, Coming In Pants, Bloody Kisses, Please Do Not Let Matt Murdock Perform Oral Surgery On You

My gifts for @lovetincture for this year’s @daredevilexchange :D The prompt I chose to roll with was “Romantic Teeth Trauma”, and it lit a spark inside me! Which is why my gift is two moodboards, a playlist, AND a fic lol

AO3 for the playlist and Alt Text (will be live when the collection opens!)

“Are you sure about this, Frank?”

Matt crouched in front of the chair, head tilted to the side as he listened for any changes in Frank. His breathing. His heart rate. His tone. If there was any sign he wasn’t confident about his request, Matt planned to stop. Frank liked pain, sure, but this? This was beyond normal pain.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Red. Only you. Anyone else I wouldn’t think about it, but you? You get me. I, I trust you. Y’know?”

“And you want no anesthesia?”

“None.”

No change. Even breathing. Steady heart rate. Frank was out of his goddamn mind, letting a blind man cut out one of his teeth. The thought brought a smile to Matt’s lips. Frank was mad, but that madness, that dedication to seeing things through, that only endeared him to him. He patted Frank’s leg gently and stood up.

“Okay. Can you reach the tools, push them toward me? Please?”

The rattle of metal filled his senses, making the room feel full and featureless. Matt groaned and shook his head to clear the cloud stifling his ‘sight’. Once the tray stopped, his access to the space returned. Deep shades of red, sparked by changes in the environment, that let him see - in a sense.

His world on fire.

Frank burned brightly in his special sense. Rugged, body made of valleys and hills and broken roads, sound made him shine. And Frank? Frank shone the loudest when he screamed.

Matt placed one hand on the handle of the cart. The other hovered over the tools.

“Scalpel,” he said softly.

“Four inches to your left. Blade facing away from you.”

He followed Frank’s instructions and lifted the surgical knife from the cloth. It was cool in his grasp, the handle weighted and the blade light and sharp enough to cut through muscle and tendon. Matt let out a slow breath. His hands were steady — no tremor. No fear.

Just a blind man performing intimate oral surgery.

“Once I’m in your mouth you won’t be able to instruct me, so if there’s anything you need to say to me, Frank? Now’s the time.”

Something about Frank’s gaze, Matt could always feel . He stared at him now , and from the way his pulse quickened he knew it was affectionate. Tender. He’d seen that look once, when the sirens lit the graveyard after the Irish. That hangdog, loving look in Frank’s sad eyes turned to him now, and he was certain there was a hint of madness to it. Of thrill. Frank wanted this. Hell, it’d been his idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got somethin’. Yeah. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fuck it up,” Frank teased. “I love you.”

Matt smirked.

“I know. Open up for me.”

Frank opened his mouth, as wide as he could. His wrists tugged against the handcuffs holding them to the legs of the chair, the rattle reassuring. Frank wouldn’t get out if the pain was too great, which meant Matt wouldn’t wind up with a fist in his face when he dug into the root. It was a precaution, sure, but he had to admit he liked Frank tied up.

At his mercy .

Matt slipped two fingers inside his waiting mouth and slid them along his tongue. Frank shuddered, gagging slightly as he pressed down. Drool pooled around his hand and ran down, down the curve of his chin, spattering on his bare chest. Matt felt the wetness and smiled down at Frank.

“I bet you can do better than that.”

He lifted the scalpel and guided his fingers up. Picking a molar was the hard part. Humming, Matt tapped between three of them, whispering that familiar mantra.

“One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime — Ah. This one.”

The back molar. One Frank wouldn’t even know was missing.

“Here we go, Frank.”

All he got was a huff of a growl in response.

Matt pressed the blade into the soft meat of Frank’s gum. Blood welled from the wound, mixing with the drool, and Matt wished he could see it. The ecstatic look of agony carved into Frank’s Roman features, the mess he made, the wild rush burning in his eyes… He cut again. Again. Tracing the tooth. Beneath him, Frank snarled and roared.

“That’s right. Like that. Make noise, nobody will hear you here. Nobody but me.”

His noise made it easier for Matt to see what he was doing. Vibrations traveled through his mouth, and the loose skin he sliced through swayed from side to side. Soon he had most of the tooth exposed, the gums cut and peeled back with careful - if amateur - care. Frank pulled against the cuffs and rocked the chair as his fingers touched the wound, but Matt didn’t stop.

Frank had had plenty of time to revoke consent before. He didn’t. His fingers weren’t tapping out his safeword on the wood. Frank loved being out of control, submitting to Matt in such a deep, intimate way. Pain, even the extreme kind, wasn’t foreign to their relationship nor their sex.

This, this was dedication. A declaration. One far more beautiful than any other words or gestures could be.

Matt used Frank’s moans to find the forceps. He traded out his scalpel for the pointed steel, clicking them together a few times as Frank simply sat there shaking. His lips trembled, but he kept his mouth open to the cool air.

A good dog. Loyal. Obedient.

He guided the new tool inside, easily finding his way back. The blood dripping on his knuckles couldn’t be missed. Matt’s forceps closed around the tooth and he began to pry. Grunting, he pumped his arm, moving the bone in its tight little socket. Frank roared in pain, hips coming up and rubbing against Matt’s thigh.

He was hard, hard enough that the brief touch sent a shiver down Frank’s spine. Matt grinned, his dimples deep as he pressed his thigh back in response.

“Rut. Like a dog. I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, not when you’re behaving for me. Go on. Consider it a reward. A treat, Frank.”

Frank didn’t hesitate. He started thrusting against Matt, breathing hard through his nose as his cock strained against his jeans. A low moan vibrated in his throat as Matt yanked again, pulling, fighting to get the tooth free of his jaw. Frank screamed around his hands, tears flowing down his cheeks, and Matt’s world burst with vivid red color. He could see Frank. See the blood. See the wide-eyed and hungry stare Frank fixed on him. He was a beacon at the center of Matt’s world, pulsing with every shuddering sob.

“Beautiful,” he said, voice low and soft. “You make the world so beautiful .”

A loud crack split the air. Another. Another, as Matt leveraged his strength to force it out. With one last tug it snapped free of Frank’s jaw, clutched firmly in the forceps. Frank slammed his hips forward as he came, eyes rolling back in his head as that final surge of pain pushed him over the edge. Matt stumbled backward and held the tooth up triumphantly. His prize. His token.

While Frank’s sounds grew quiet, Matt’s vision faded back to darkness. He couldn’t see the sloppy smile on Frank’s face as he drooled blood onto his bare chest.

“… That,” Frank slurred, barely able to move his jaw. His words were mumbled, accompanied by dribbling blood. “Is yours. Yeah. Gonna take it to, to, to your guy. Drill a hole, get a chain. Wear it. Always.”

Matt released the tooth into his hand and ran his bloody thumb over the bone.

Frank’s bone.

A piece of him, to keep forever.

“… I love you, Frank. You know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I, I love you too.”

He slipped the tooth into his pocket and lowered himself down on Frank’s filthy lap. His hands were just as messy, bloodied up almost to the elbow from Frank’s coughing and screaming. He slid one through Frank’s curls and tugged him into a rough, heated kiss. Blood filled his mouth, and Matt let it. He savored the taste of Frank. It was no different from kissing him with a split lip.

Except this time he could swallow the mess.

#fratt #Frank castle #Matt Murdock #pundevil #punisher #daredevil #ddexchange #Daredevilexchange

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Riding On

Ch22: Driftwood

Summary: It’s Mary’s birthday and for the first time ever she requests a party. Meanwhile, Evelyn makes a decision and Frank isn’t entirely sure how he feels about it.

Warnings: Bad language, 18+, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: I have to a huge thanks to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for her input here! Have a biscuit, Ambi...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 21

May 2020

“So this,” Frank held up the item in his hand, showing it to Alex, “is a fuel pipe. Without this the engine gets no food. Something you should be able to relate to.”

Alex’s response was another loud gabble as he looked at his dad from his vantage point, sat in his little bouncer which placed on the deck of the boat to Frank’s left.

“Exactly, no food, no go.” Frank nodded, as he reached into the space, ducking down to get a closer look. He clamped the line into place before he shuffled out and stood up, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on as Alex peered up at him, his arms and legs waggling as he gave another shriek. “Yup, I reckon you’re right, Son. Time to give it a try.”

Checking that his hands and arms were clean enough, he unclipped Alex’s straps and gently placed him on his hip as he strode to the front of the boat, jangling the keys in his spare hand. Alex reached for them, making a cooing noise of interest and for a moment Frank let the baby curl his hand round the metal before hastily moving them away as Alex went to shove them in his mouth. As the baby let out a noise of protest, Frank jiggled him a little before successfully distracting him by holding him up above his head, bringing him down quickly to blow a raspberry on his cheek. With his son held safely against him with one arm, he stuck the keys in the ignition with his other and gave them a turn, letting out a triumphant noise as the engine fired up.

“I am a genius.” Frank looked down at Alex who beamed back, shrieking and Frank chuckled, kissing the tiny boy’s rosy cheek before he turned the key to cut the engine.

“You got it working, I see!”

Frank turned to see Fliss’ head appear over the side of the boat as she climbed the small set of ladders by the side and he grinned as she hopped onto the deck.

“Yup. Fuel line was blocked. Replaced it and bingo.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek as she gently brushed her hand over Alex’s head as he was now fisting his little hands into Frank’s rather grubby t-shirt. “He helped.”

“That right? You been helping your Daddy, Bean?” She beamed and Alex let out another string of nonsensical babble and she grinned, before she looked at Frank. “You’re filthy.”

Frank looked at his T-shirt before he bit his lip. “Shit, I didn’t realise. Here.” He made to pass Alex over but Fliss shook her head, frowning.

“Frank, it’s a bit of dirt, not like he’s eating it is he?” She looked at him, before she smirked. “Besides, that’s not why I mentioned it.”

Frank arched his eyebrow as she bit her lip, scanning him up and down, her eyes lingering on his tatty jeans for a second before she shook her head and looked back at his face.

“Down girl.” He quipped and she laughed.

“I’m just gonna sort his dinner, want me to take him?”

“Yeah, I’m done out here for the night.” Frank looked at her, passing Alex over. “I’ll just lock the garage up and be right in. You riding tonight?”

“No, I snuck in a quick one at lunchtime on Cap. Alex was down for his nap so I took advantage, parked him in the office and left him to it. Slept right through.”

“Yeah, we kinda lucked out a little with him there didn’t we?” Frank smiled. “He’s nothing like Mary, she was a pain in the ass to get to sleep. Still is.”

“Well, with a bit of luck he’ll go down easy tonight.” Fliss smiled, before she looked at Frank, a dirty little grin on her face. “Then so can you.”

“Oooh, Miss Gallagher you filthy, little minx.” Frank’s mouth curled up at one side as she laughed before she stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss.

“Glad to see you’re no longer cranky, Frankie.”

“I was not cranky.”

“Sailor, you exploded at Mary when she knocked a glass of water over.” Fliss looked at him, her face soft. “I’ve never seen you blow like that, Baby. Not over something so trivial.”

“In my defense, I had told her three times to stop messing around.”

“I know.” Fliss cocked her head to one side. “Just isn’t like you, that’s all.”

Frank dropped his head, letting out a heavy sigh, he knew shew as right. Work had really been stressing him out recently and unfortunately he’d taken it out on the very people he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.” He wrinkled his nose and Fliss shook her head.

“It’s fine, no lasting harm done.” With that she kissed him again and Frank’s hand giving her ass a quick squeeze as she turned to leave.

“Hey, can you manage?” He asked as he watched her grip the side of the steps in one hand, Alex held in her other arm.

“Yeah, I got it.” She made her way slowly down, before hitting the floor of the garage. “Don’t be too long, Sailor.”

“Like I said, locking up and be right in.” He smiled, watching her make her way out, chatting away to Alex as she went, Thor trotting at her heels.

Frank climbed down himself and then checked around the garage and workshop area, making sure his power tools were locked away before his eyes fell over the little shelf he’d made out of a piece of driftwood as a surprise for Fliss. She’d picked up Heidi’s ashes a week ago, which had been another tearful morning as she’d broken down again when she’d picked up the sleek, mahogany box with her beloved mare’s name engraved on the lid. The box was currently sat on her desk in the office at the stables, Fliss saying she didn’t really want it in the house as the yard had been Heidi’s home so she needed to be there. Later that evening, Frank and Mary had taken Thor down to the beach to collect some driftwood for their fire pit and they’d stumbled upon a particularly large, gnarled piece. Frank had instantly been struck with the idea to craft it into a shelf for Fliss, thinking it would make a nice feature upon which she could lay Heidi to rest for good, and the finished article was quite nice, even if he did say so himself. He’d managed to keep the character of it nicely, the edges remained rustic and the entire thing had come up beautifully when he’d applied the final coat of varnish the previous evening.

The builders had been there all afternoon, marking out the areas where the expansion to the yard was due to start on Monday, so he supposed tonight was as good a time as any to give it to her, to apologise for being so bad tempered over the last few weeks, and celebrate the launch of a new opportunity for her business in one go. He could put it up for her tomorrow when she decided where she wanted it to go. Tucking it under one arm, he stepped out of the garage, pulled the up and over door down before locking it and heading into the house.

Fliss was currently warming something up for Alex to eat and she turned to face him, frowning as she saw the shelf under his arm.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“It’s a shelf.” He smiled, setting it down on the kitchen island.

“Frank, it’s gorgeous!” Fliss smiled, her fingers trailing over the surface of it. “Did you make it?”

“I did.” He nodded. “Out of a piece of driftwood. I thought it would look nice in your office, somewhere for you to put Heidi.”

At his words she stilled, her head shooting up to look at him and she blinked as her eyes welled with tears. She glanced back down, before she looked up at him, and gave him a huge smile. “Oh, Frankie. I love it. Thank you so much.”

Frank smiled and opened his arms, and she moved round to fall into them, resting her cheek on his shirt. His large hands gently rubbed at her back as she sniffed and he dropped a kiss to her head. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” She let out a little choked sob and Frank chuckled.

“I try.” He looked down, his hands cupping her face as he wiped away her tears, dropping a kiss to her lips. “If you decide where you want it I’ll put it up for you tomorrow.”

“I already know exactly where it’s going.” She smiled. “Could you move the one above my desk to the back wall and put that in its place? I want her right up there where she’s in prime position.”

“Sure, not a problem.” He assured her, giving her another kiss. “Was Mary okay when you dropped her at Roberta’s? She wasn’t upset or-“

“Upset, no. Raging about you being a, and I quote, ‘miserable, bad-tempered douchebag’, yes.”

Frank snorted and took a deep breath. “I’ll apologise tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, I told her to cut you some slack. She gets it. I said you’d pick her up on the way back from the airport tomorrow morning. Everyone will be arriving for her party at one so she needs to be back here by at least midday. Roberta said she’d come too, give us a hand setting up.”

“Is there much to set up?” Frank asked. “I mean there’s only five of them coming.”

“Seven if you count the twins.” Fliss corrected. “But no, not really. Food is simple, just need to throw it on the grill. Mum’s got the cake done, snacks are sorted…just a case of setting the table outside and the music and stuff.”

“You know I think she’s more excited for the party than she was for her actual birthday.” Frank mused as Fliss pulled Alex’s dinner out of the microwave.

“Well, it’s her first party.” Fliss smiled, giving the cauliflower and haddock puree a stir.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day she asked for one.” Frank continued to ponder, taking the dish that Fliss handed him, before he pulled a face looking at it. “This looks disgusting.”

“Well I’m not asking you to eat it.” Fliss narrowed her eyes at him and Frank raised his eyebrows.

“Good job.”

“Keep talking, Sailor and you’ll be wearing it.”

He gave a laugh, before he moved and sat down on the stool next to Alex’s high chair as the baby made grabby hands for the dish, noises of approval escaping his mouth as Frank held out the first spoonful to him. Fliss watched them for a moment before she smiled, and moved behind Frank, dropping a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll ring our order through for dinner, you fancy Thai or Italian tonight?”

“You choose.” Frank replied, his concentration fully on feeding his son and Fliss squeezed his shoulders, before she picked up her phone and rang the Thai place, knowing full well Frank would prefer that, even though she was in the mood for Italian.

*****

For the first time in weeks, Frank felt fully relaxed that evening. He wasn’t going into the shop that weekend, having put his foot down and said not a chance given it was Mary’s party. They’d eaten a fabulous take-out, drank a few beers and now they were sat together in his favourite place, outside in their garden around the fire pit, under the stars whilst their son was sleeping soundly upstairs.

“You know, I do love how it sometimes burns blue.” Fliss smiled as she snuggled further into him.

“Yeah, it’s to do with the salt, I think.” Frank shrugged, his fingers tracing shapes on her upper arm. ”Sure Mary would be able to tell you if you asked her.”

“Sure she would.” Fliss chuckled. “Along with a detailed explanation of exactly what chemical compounds are involved, or the fact that the moon being in a certain position to Venus means it glows a different shade of blue or some other random shit like that…” Frank burst out laughing, pulling her closer. “I don’t know how she remembers half the shit she does.”

“Diane was the same.” Frank mused. “A goldmine for trivia. She was great for Quiz Nights.”

“You do it too.” Fliss sat up and looked at him.

“I don’t.”

“You so do.” She scoffed.

“Not as bad as Mary.”

“Hmm, hey, maybe that’s what we need to do next time they have a Quiz at Ferg’s. Smuggle Mary in and hide her under the table.”

“I doubt she’d stay there.” Frank pulled a face and Fliss shoved him in his chest, causing him to snigger again.

“Dick!”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Sweetheart.” He winked as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I love you.” She muttered against his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“How much?”

Biting her lip she arched her eyebrow and snatched his beer off him, placing it on the table along with her glass of wine before she moved, straddling him, her bare thighs falling either side of his. Bending down she kissed him deeply, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her in closer. He let his lips dance across hers before she pulled back a little, looking at him.

“That much.”

“Yeah, not sure I got it…” He chuckled, pulling her back to him as he kissed her again, this time only parting when her hands wrapped in the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging at it until he moved to allow her to drag it off. He took advantage of the moment, dragging her cami over her top, letting out a soft groan as the sight of her bare in front of him. He dropped his head, kissing and nuzzling at her breasts, Fliss’ fingers digging into his hair to hold him close.

“Got it now?” She grinned as she pushed down, rubbing her sleep short clad core into his groin, making him hiss at the feeling, his dick growing hard through the constraints of the sweats he was wearing.

“Not quite…” He teased, nipping at her neck. Fliss giggled as he went back to her breasts, hands cupping them, squeezing gently before his mouth gently covered a nipple. As he gently flicked the hardening nub with his tongue she gave a little squeak of delight.

“I mean… If you really don’t get it, Adler…” she panted out slightly, “then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.��

“Well, you always tell my brains are in my dick.” He growled a bit, giving her chest a gentle bite, and Fliss arched herself into his mouth, hissing at the way the slight pain and pleasure mixed. His arm tightening around her, Frank lifted them both up off the cushion to lay her down on her back on the outside couch and took a chance to look over her, his eyes traveling down her bare torso, before his mouth followed suit, his beard scratching her skin slightly, mouth cooling the delectable burn as he went.

Fliss rolled herself up into him, enjoying the feel of his relatively firm torso against the softness of hers, allowing herself to get lost in the feeling as she bit her lip and tipped her head back against the arm of the wicker sofa, enjoying being in her man’s care. Frank’s gently gripped at the sleep shorts she was wearing, before he slipped them down her toned legs before he pushed his sweats down, kicking them to the floor.

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking Fliss’ left leg up to rest against the back of the couch, her other leg falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the smooth sandstone flags, leg bent at the knee. Frank took another moment to look at her as his hands rubbed against her inner thighs, taking her in from her toned shoulders and arms, right down to the gently curve of her hips. There wasn’t a single bit of this woman that he wasn’t achingly in love with.

Sliding his hands up and around, he gripped at those hips and shifted her slightly making sure she was where he wanted her.

“You know, Frank…” Fliss, looked up at him, and her deep brown eyes flashed in amusement, as she watched her fiance appreciate her body, and she could feel a flush rising pink up her neck, into her cheeks. The way he looked at her, like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen still made her a little bashful at times. “If brains were dynamite, then, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your pants off.”

“Oh, really?” Frank leaned forward, kissing her lips, and down her neck as she laughed, his fingers drifting along her curves till they dipped between her spread thighs and slipped along her folds, causing her got gasp. “Never heard you complain before.” He braced a hand next to her head, as she starting to wriggle from where expert fingers teased her slick. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Shut up…” She groaned as she arched up into him, pushing against his hand.

“You started this, Sweetheart.” His fingers picked up their pace and he watched as she writhed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged pants, her fingers digging into his biceps, soft whimpers of his name leaving her mouth in a staccato chant. “You wanna think about what you just said?”

“You’re not using your…fuck!” She cried, as his fingers stretched her open, gliding and rubbing against her walls which clenched with need around his digits. “-dick, you…oh, God!”

“Nope, not yet.” He agreed, dropping his head so he could reach her breasts, a pull of his teeth on a nipple drew out another cry from her. “But I’m not sure I’m gonna need to.”

His fingers moved even faster, Fliss quivering, her whole body rubbing against his, panting as she glanced down at him, his blue eyes peeking up at her, twinkling with desire and mischief. “Frankie, please, I gotta…”

His lips wrapped around the other nipple, sucking and working his teeth around it before he pulled away, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting as he arched up once more watching her. “Let go, Lissy.”

The heat in her stomach flooded her and she arched up off the cushions, a loud moan rolling from her throat as Frank felt her clamping down round his fingers, as her eyes flickered shut, her legs twitching. Frank leaned over to kiss her, deeply, as he slotted himself between her thighs, grinding down into her. Kisses flowed into soft bites of skin while Frank arched his hips up enough to slide his cock between her folds, and once he found her entrance, he pressed into her heat, burying into exactly where he wanted to be the most, forehead pressed against her own, breath mingling as both panted through the initial hit of sensations that coursed through their veins.

“You okay, Baby?” Frank looked down at her and Fliss nodded, tipping up to press her lips against his, tugging on his full bottom lip, nudging her nose against his.

“Better than okay” She rolled her hips once more against his, the shift in angle making her tighter, driving Frank crazy to feel her fluttering around him. Pulling his hips back he thrust deeply into her, causing her shudder.

“I can tell.” He grunted as he started to move himself, the thrust of his hips moving her slightly with each drive forward. Shifting to his elbows on either side of her head, Fliss immediately wrapped her leg from around the couch over his hip, rocking up to meet him.

“Oh, fuck, Frank!” The change in angle hit her deep and just right as he reached down and grabbed under her other knee, bringing that leg around his hips too before he fisted a hand in her hair, tipping her head back and dragging a swipe of his tongue up her neck. He kissed that sweet spot just behind her ear, once more dragging his name out of her in a chant, as he slowed his movements down, his hips now driving slow and deep. But her hands dragged down to his back, nails digging into the bunched muscles he was using to monitor his speed and she grabbed at him.

“No Sailor… I want you to fuck me.”

Frank gave a little groan as he moved to look at her and found her eyes challenging him. Fuck, he loved it when she got all fucking horny and needy.

“Oh, Cowgirl…” He smirked, shifting his chest across hers and pulling away, propping himself up above her as both his hands fisted in her hair to hold her down. “. “You better hold on to something.”

Her eyes flashed and then without warning he began snapping his hips forward and back with a brutal pace as he dragged himself back and forth from her fluttering channel.

It was so quick that Fliss screamed out, a vague thankful feeling crossing her addled brain about how she was suddenly glad they had no near neighbours, but all thoughts disappeared as soon as they flashed into her mind as she felt her eyelids flutter shut as she could feel nothing but how thick he was inside her, the constant pounding left her trying to keep up with his furious fucking, and she was failing, big time.

Her eyes opened and her entire gaze was filled with nothing but Frank, a wide chest with its spattering of dark hair drove her crazy, to the straining shoulders that gave him the leverage to shift his body in every way to claim her. And then his face, that handsome face she knew from memory, his sharp, bearded jaw was tight, those baby blue eyes burning into hers as his face hovered inches from hers, all his focus on her and only her.

It was driving her crazy.

Frank was just as swamped with the sensations. He enjoyed making love to his girl but he also enjoyed the faster, carnal fucking too. There was a darker side to him that enjoyed being able to use his size to claim her how he wanted and give her what she needed and since their weekend in Vermont, he knew he could do exactly that without fear anymore.

"Fuck…“ he growled out as he rutted into her, feeling her clench as he hit a particularly toe-curling spot deep inside her and her mouth dropped wide in a loud gasp. He was angled just right, and she dragged her nails down his back, urging him to keep hitting it, which he did, rotating his hips, making her groan and her whole body arch into him.

Frank kept going, relentless, hard, demanding, claiming. Fliss tightened her legs around him, her, hands scrambling along his back, and her head fell back against the arm of the couch again, and Frank heard her signature cry, a whispered, garbled tangle of words falling from her lips as, her whole body locked around him before with a loud, guttural cry of his name she came, hard.

Frank dropping himself enough to press his forehead against hers as she cried underneath him, his lips pressing to hers, swallowing her cries. He slowed his thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm, but he wasn’t that far from his, it was simmering and he was teetering on that edge that he knew he was going to fall over soon. There was a slight stutter to his hips as he grained speed again, grinding into her until her clenching body was too much and with a gasp of a name and a dirty grunt he spilled into her, jolting to a stop after several erratic thrusts, sinking down over her as Fliss pressed her face into his neck, breathing in deeply.

After a moment, she eased her limbs from around him, her foot sliding down the back of his thigh and calf, humming softly post-orgasm, she leaned up, nibbling on Frank’s neck, and he gave a soft hum of delight as she nipped at his jaw.

“Maybe you could blow your boxers off. At a push.” She mumbled cheekily, and Frank laughed, his mouth claiming hers, if for no other reason other than to shut her up.

*****

Even if they’d had chance to lie in the next morning, which thanks to their son was not an option, they couldn’t have. Fliss was up early, the excitement in the house at the fact they were hosting Mary’s first birthday party was infectious, and Frank found himself getting swept up in it too. This was all he’d ever wanted for Mary, and the fact she’d actually requested a party in the first place had almost reduced him to tears.

By the time nine in the morning rolled by, the balloons were blown up and scattered about the place, banners had been hung and the music system was ready to go outside. With a quick kiss goodbye, Frank headed off to go and pick his mother up from the airport, before driving back down to their old estate to pick up a very hyper active Mary, and a slightly less bouncy Roberta.

Mary was overjoyed with the decorations, hugging Fliss and thanking her over and over again, and then the time seemed to fly by with her best friend Rosie arriving first, along with her parents who once more asked Fliss and Frank if they were sure the little girl was okay to stay the evening too. Fliss waved away their concern and asked if they’d like to stay for a while, an offer which they rather hastily declined and Frank snorted a little as Rosie’s dad gave him a wink when he told Frank they had ‘plans’.

By two, the pool party was in full swing, Steve, Frank and Bill overseeing seven kids as they dived in and out of the pool, jumping on and off inflatables as the music played in the background. Frank glanced around, watching as Fliss bustled about the garden, Alex perched on her hip as she laughed at something Roberta had said before she nodded and passed Alex over to the woman who beamed at him as he grabbed at her large beaded necklace.

“Frank?”

He spun to face his mother who smiled at him, her large sun hat shading her face. She held up the empty bottle in her hand. “Me and Verity appear to have finished this Sancerre. Do you mind if-“

“You’ve sunk a bottle by two in the afternoon, shame on you.” He gave a lout tut and his mother simply arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, well having children turned me into a raging alcoholic.” She stated matter of factly and Frank snorted.

“Touche, well, help yourself, you know where it all is.” He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “You don’t need to keep asking for things whilst you’re here, you know.”

“No, I know. But I was kind of hoping to talk to you actually.” Evelyn looked at him. “Come with me.”

“Oh?” He frowned, tossing a glance back at Fliss before he followed Evelyn into the house. He reached into the fridge, pulled out another chilled bottle of wine before he set it on the counter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I just…well, I’ve come to a decision about something, and I wanted to run it past you first.”

“Okay.” He watched her as she cleared her throat.

“I’ve decided to sell the house.” She stated and Frank watched her, having a feeling he knew exactly what was coming next. “And I’m going to buy and apartment. Here.”

“Right.” Frank looked at her, his face passive.

“And one in Boston.”

“Two apartments?”

“One plus one was two last time I checked, yes.” Evelyn’s mouth twitched at the corner and Frank rolled his eyes. “I thought I could spend the winters here and the summers in Boston. That way, it would only be for six months a year. Sure even we could survive being in the same state as one another for that long.”

“Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

"I want my grandchildren to know me, Frank. I already missed out on so much with Mary, and yes, before you say anything, that was my own fault, but I don’t want to miss out on any more.”

“And you won’t, I’ve told you-“

“Well, clearly I am because I missed the fact that Mary was now calling Fliss mom.”

Frank took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, “I thought we’d been through this. You said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It isn’t, I just…well, I wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s on me.” Frank looked at her, his expression softening slightly. He hadn’t really considered what effect it would have on his mother, hearing Mary call someone other than Diane her mom, but then again, why would he? Evelyn had never seen Diane with Mary after all, it never even crossed his mind that it would upset her. “I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Evelyn shook her head. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting it that’s all.”

There was a pause and Frank took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve told you before. I want you to have a relationship with the kids, and, well, if you feel moving nearer to us is gonna help that then…” He trailed off giving a little shrug.

“So you wouldn’t object to me moving closer?”

“What would be the point of that?” He asked, passing her the bottle of wine. “You’d do it regardless.”

“Yes, I would.” Evelyn stated simply before she took the bottle from him. Frank gave her a small smile which she returned before she moved to leave, greeting Fliss who had just walked into the kitchen.

“Did I just interrupt something?” She frowned.

“No.” Frank shook his head, watching his mother leave. As soon as she was out of earshot he gave a groan and pulled a beer from the fridge. “She just told me she wants to sell the house and buy two apartments. One in Boston and one here.”

“Oh.” Fliss frowned, cocking her head to the side. “But, that’s…fine. I mean, you and your mom get on okay now, so-”

“Yeah, we do.” Frank nodded, taking a huge pull from his bottle, swallowing his beer. “Because she’s in Boston and I’m not.”

Fliss gave a chuckle and slipped her arms round his waist. “Stop being a little shit, Frank. I hate to point it out but it makes sense. She’s not getting any younger and if anything happens she’s a three hour flight away, as we saw when Mary was taken ill.”

“Why do you always have to be so fucking sensible?” Frank narrowed his eyes at her and she grinned, shrugging.

“I’m not, I can just see it from her point of view. But hey, look on the bright side. If she’s told you, it gives you a perfect excuse to help her look for somewhere. Tampa’s not a bad area, and it’s a forty or so minute drive away…”

“Oh, now who’s being a little shit?” He laughed as he dropped a kiss to Fliss’ lips.

She chuckled and pulled back, looking at him. “Anyway, parking that for now, the kids are getting hungry. Can you we fire up the grill and I’ll get the sides and stuff out?”

“Sure.” Frank smiled, before he kissed her again and headed outside, grabbing Steve’s collar as he went, roping him into helping.

Half an hour later kids and adults alike were sat around munching burgers, hot dogs and various other items Fliss had dotted out on the tables at the side of the garden. Frank was stood drinking a beer as he watched Steve flop down next to Sian on the seat round the table the adults had settled at, gently rubbing his hand over her little bump, giving her a quick kiss. Frank smiled, thinking back to how it didn’t seem like five minutes since he’d been doing the same to Fliss.

“Not sending you broody is it, Son?”

Frank turned to look at Bill who nodded to Steve and Frank scoffed. “Nope. Two is quite enough for us, thanks.”

Bill laughed. “Exactly what Fliss said, well, not exactly. Her phrase included the words ‘fuck off, Dad’ but the sentiment was the same.”

Frank laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, we’re both agreed, thankfully.” He smiled, his eyes flicking to Alex who was perched on his mother’s knee, as she sat chatting to Verity.

“I had a nosey up at the yard before.” Bill took a swig from his bottle. “Looks like they’re all ready to start. Must be a relief that they’re finally getting going.”

“To be honest, Bill, I’ve not been as involved with it all as I’d like.” Frank bit his lip. “I mean I’ve been over the plans and keep checking the costs and stuff but as far as actively being involved in organising anything.” He let out a deep sigh. “I know I should have stepped up a little more.”

“Hey don’t worry!” Bill smiled. “We got it covered.”

“I know and I’m grateful but I just, well this is our future you know? Her business, our property and land and I kinda feel a little...”

“Left out?”

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Not left out as such. Not in control is the best way to describe it, I suppose.”

“We talking about the building work now or life in general?”

Frank snorted, it unnerved him how easily his future father in law could read him. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little, plus Fliss says you’ve been mad busy at the shop.”

“I thought it would have died down by now.” Frank shrugged. “But we seem to be getting bigger and bigger and, it’s just not what I had in mind when I went to work there. And I know, I’m grateful but I kinda miss when things were simpler, you know?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t really sound like I’m very ambitious does it? Most people would kill to be in my position.”

“Look, management and running a business isn’t for everyone. If it was, the world would hardly tick over the way it does, would it?” Bill said wisely. “Have you talked to James?”

Frank shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what I’d say.”

“Well, what do you want to happen?”

“I miss the repairs.” Frank said, honestly. “I enjoyed it when I was running the workshop. It was a good mix between management and still being able to get my hands dirty when I wanted to.”

“Tell him that then.”

“Not that simple, we got a new guy running that side of things now. Plus it would be a drop in wages.”

“Do you need the money?”

“Not especially, Fliss brings in a fair packet and it wouldn’t be a bad income at all. But I like the security.”

“Well in that case don’t let that be a factor in your decision. Trading off a higher standard of living versus job satisfaction is a mistake I’ve seen a lot of people make in the past, Frank. It doesn’t end well as they become miserable and resent their choices.” Bill paused. “Have you not thought about going back into repairs full time, like working for yourself again?”

Frank shook his head. “No. The security which comes with this job is too big a pull to give up. Especially now there’s four of us to consider.”

“You could make it secure if you did it properly.” Bill looked at him. “Set yourself up as an independent business but get a unit on one of the Marinas. Yeah, they’ll take a cut, but you’re pretty much guaranteed work and it comes with most of the perks but you’ll manage your own time.” Frank looked at him as Bill smiled. “Might be a bit of work at first to get yourself back in the game so to speak but I can help with the practicalities of setting out on your own. Fliss has an excellent accountant plus I hear you know a pretty good lawyer.”

Frank smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Just think it over. If you need the money to set up you know me and V will help out. Plus, the beauty of it is Frank, you have a job to keep you going whilst you make your decision. It ain’t a bad place to be when you think about it.”

“Thanks Bill, I’ll give it some thought.”

***** The party filtered out at about five, and their family stayed around for a little while until they too left a couple of hours later. Mary hugged Fliss and then Frank tightly, thanking them both for ‘the best birthday party ever’, Frank not bothering to point out that the sum total she had held or attended didn’t give her much to go on. He was simply happy she’d enjoyed herself.

They managed to get the two girls to bed in Mary’s room at a ridiculously late hour, so when Frank woke the next morning he wasn’t surprised to find them both fast asleep still when he poked his head into the room. He was surprised, however, to find his bed empty. Sundays were normally their lazy mornings, none of them really bothering to get up until they had to, Alex often coming into their room for a few hours. But today, it was barely gone nine and Fliss was up and fully dressed in denim shorts and a baggy fitting t-shirt.

“Morning, Honey.” He greeted her with a soft kiss. “You’re up early?”

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” She shrugged, before her face wrinkled up and she swallowed, rubbing at her stomach.

“You okay?” Frank frowned, his hands gently running up and down her arms. “You sick?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head. “I came on a few days early and it’s fucking excruciating for some reason. Hasn’t been this bad since I had Alex.”

“Oh, Baby!” Frank pouted and with an exaggerated fake chuckle-slash-sob she pressed her forehead to his chest and he smiled, wrapping his arms round her, kissing her head.

“My ovaries are trying to kill me.” She whined and Frank chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Not really, other than give me lots of sympathy and pretend you know what I’m going through.”

“Think I can manage that.”

Together they made breakfast, Evelyn joining them and Fliss took care to leave enough batter to feed the girls with when they finally surfaced at half past ten. Frank then let them head back out to the pool for another hour or so before he dropped Rosie off home and swung by the store for some snacks which he knew would keep Fliss satisfied for the afternoon and hopefully help keep her killer womb at bay.

They all settled down for the afternoon on the sun-loungers outside, the lazy Sunday bleeding into the evening, as they dipped in an out of the pool before it was time to sort dinner, which consisted mainly of left over party food, Frank grilling the remaining burgers and sausages that hadn’t been eaten at the party. Once that was over, Evelyn asked if she could take Alex’s bath time. Fliss handed him over with a smile, whilst Frank headed upstairs to make sure his mother knew where everything was. Once he was bathed and put down for the evening, Evelyn retired back to the guest house and Mary retreated to her den to watch one of her new DVDs, leaving Frank and Fliss to curl up on their sofa, settling in for another binge watching session, this time making their way through The Witcher.

As Fliss shifted again, trying to ease a particularly nasty cramp in her stomach, Frank glanced at her, frowning a little.

“Have you taken some more painkillers?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stretching her legs out. “Just haven’t kicked in yet.”

“What hasn’t?” Mary asked as she walked past the sofa from her den, heading to the fridge.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Frank replied, not even looking at her.

“Are you on your period?” Mary asked bluntly and Fliss glanced at Frank who looked at her, blinking, before they both turned their heads to look at her over the back of the sofa as he closed the fridge, juice box in her hand.

“How the hell do you know about that stuff? You’re ten!” Frank stared at her and she shrugged, moving back towards them.

“I read about it when I looked up where babies came from.”

“You looked up where babies come from?” Fliss repeated, her voice controlled as she was trying to supress the laughter bubbling in her throat.

“I was curious, Mom. Wanted to know how you made Alex.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank groaned, as Fliss let out a snort. “I clearly need to increase the level of Parental Control on your laptop and tablet.”

“No you don’t because it didn’t let me google it, so I had to find it in a book in the library.” She said matter of factly as she paused by the back of the sofa, fixing them both with a look. “And, for the record, I think it’s totally disgusting what you did. But, now you have him, you don’t need to do it again. That is unless you decide you want another and-“

“No, you’re absolutely right.” Frank cut her off, his face serious. “It’s totally gross. I’m so relived I will never have to go through that torture ever again.”

Fliss couldn’t look at him, she had to turn away, the expression on his face was utterly dead-pan. She pressed her lips together, scrunching her face up as she tried desperately to stop the laughter exploding from her mouth.

“God knows what Uncle Steve and Sian think they’re doing, having another one.” Mary grumbled.

“Well, your Grandmother had two.” Frank pointed out, and Fliss slapped his thigh, in a desperate attempt to make him stop. His lips quirked at the sides ever so slightly before he straightened his face once more as Mary looked back at him.

“I suppose, but you were the eldest so she clearly thought she needed to try again after having you, you know, make it right.”

At that the laughter Fliss had been supressing burst from her mouth as her shoulders shook and she tipped her head back, roars of laughter filling the room.

“Well,” Frank looked at Mary, “you’re technically our eldest so…”

“Yeah but you adopted me, therefore you chose me.”

“Well, not really as you were kinda already here.” Frank teased.

“Yeah but you chose to be my parents, not just my uncle and his wife.”

“That’s true.” Frank nodded.

“So, that clearly makes me special.”

“Oh, you’re special alright.” Frank agreed, his face serious.

Mary grinned as she flounced back off to her den, shutting the door behind her. As soon as it clicked shut, Frank look at Fliss, who was now bright red from the force of her laughter, tears pouring down her face and he too began to laugh.

“Fucking hell.” He shook his head as Fliss wiped her eyes. “I can’t with that kid!”

“She’s hilarious, I love her.” Fliss chuckled. ”And you- I’m so relieved I will never have to go through that torture ever again, liar, much?”

Frink grinned, his arm curling round her shoulders, pulling her to him as she snuggled into his side. “Well, sex is dirty. But only when it’s done right.”

Fliss snorted. “And of course we do it right, Sailor.”

“Damned straight we do.” He leaned back against the sofa, pressing a kiss to her head.

“So, are you gonna tell Alex sex is dirty and gross?”

Frank hesitated, before he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Fliss was getting at. “You know, of course we will properly talk to Mary when she’s older and starts to get interested in dating, Fliss.”

“Careful there, Sailor. You’ll give yourself whiplash backtracking that fast.”

“I’m not backtracking."

“Course not.” Fliss wrinkled her nose sarcastically and Frank groaned.

“Look, can we stop talking about when she’s...” He waved his hand and gave a shudder. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Face it Frankie, it’s probably gonna happen sooner than later. You got to be prepared.” Fliss looked at him, her lips twitching at the corners. “I mean, you wanted her to have a normal life. Dating is part of that."

“Are you gonna shut up, or am I gonna have to make you?” Frank turned to Fliss, dropping his head a little so his nose was mere inches from hers,

“Thought that was like gross.” She teased. “And besides I’m on.”

“You know, I have heard that orgasms are supposed to help with cramps.” Frank shifted a little, his lips gently brushing her neck. “Could always do it in the shower,” he nipped at her skin. “No mess, no fuss.”

“I showered before and besides,” Fliss pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to stop his teasing bites to her neck, “it’s a known fact that a woman’s entire sexual reproductive system grows teeth in shark week.” Frank blinked before he gave a snort of laughter as Fliss shrugged. “Well, it feels like my womb is trying to eat its way out so…”

“There’s somewhere else I could shove it to keep you quiet.” Frank grinned and Fliss scoffed.

“Yeah that’s got teeth too, Sailor, and I ain’t afraid to use ‘em.” She laughed and gave him a gentle kiss. “But only when you ask nicely.”

Frank gave a groan against her mouth. “You’re killing me, Lissy!”

“Aww, I got you all worked up Sailor?”

“Yes.” He answered bluntly.

“Shame Mary’s in the den, I could have fixed that for you.”

Frank looked at her, before his head whipped round over his shoulder. “Mary! Go to bed!”

Fliss slapped his arm, laughing as Mary pulled open the door to her den and glared at him. “It isn’t even nine yet!”

“He’s joking.” Fliss looked at her.

“No I’m not.” Frank deadpanned and Mary rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Dad.” And with that she disappeared again, the door shutting behind her.

Frank groaned as he lay his head back, shifting slightly, trying to relieve the strain at the front of his jeans. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Fliss smirked to herself. She loved how she could get him worked up simply by using her words, it was a fucking huge turn on.

“You know, I’m sure I just heard Alex upstairs.”

“What?” Frank turned his attention to her.

“Yeah, I best go check on him,” she looked at Frank, “you know, upstairs,” she bit her lip, “and it might take me five minutes or so.”

With a puzzled expression Frank watched her go before he turned his attention to the baby monitor. On the small screen he saw Alex was sleeping soundly. He frowned, Fliss had no reason to be-

Oh. Oh

With a grin he stood up. “Mary just gotta nip upstairs for a moment. If you need us just, well, just wait.”

And with that he shot after Fliss, taking the stairs two at a time.

****

Chapter 23

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #frank adler x oc #frank adler smut #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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johnputignano · 4 years ago

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Big Jim’s Big Secret (Short Story)

When Big Jim Anderson finally uttered his final breath, well, King’s Creek had lost a true legend. That son of a bitch was renowned for his ability to drink anybody under the bar. No shit. And when Big Jim started tossing back cold brew, there was no way of knowing whether you would get the friendly old man or the cocksucker who loved to tease. Regardless, it was all in good fun.

I swear to god, there had been this one occasion when these degenerate punk rockers rolling on through. Apparently, they had a show that night in the valley, their name was “The Shit Kickers” but they pulled into town and made a short pit stop off at Mitch’s Pub to wet their palate. Clarissa had been tending the bar when the Mohawk weirdo began making a ruckus.

These punk rockers just love to get under the skin of working-class folk in the Bible Belt, and so there he was, spouting off obscenities and blasphemy for shock value. The spectacle was nothing more than the run of the mill asinine, juvenile behavior.

Big Jim heard the whole thing but felt that this wast his battle. So he ignored the punkers the best he could, but throughout the night they continued to get louder, drunker and more obnoxious. Enough was enough.

“I’m going to ask you boys to bring it down a notch or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Clarissa spoke loud and clear so that there was no mistaking anything.

“Fuck you, redneck slut.” the one with four lips rings responded before pouring his beer all over the floor. “You better clean that up less you want a lawsuit.”

This made Big Jim get all crazy. That big fucker rose from his barstool, picked it up in a calloused mitt and began to bash one of those jokers in the back of the dome. The Punker went down like a sack of horse shit, I mean knocked out cold. Another pulled out a switchblade.

“Oh, so you want to play games.”

Big Jim retrieved his large sheathed blade. The sight of this menacing bastard was sufficient enough to make a Civil War veteran shit his knickers and piss all over himself. That fellow knew full well that he was fucked. Luckily so did Dennis Lee, who quietly got up and bolted shut the bar entrance, ominously flipping the sign around, letting patrons know that they were closed.

“Big Jim, carve this fucker up real nice.”

And he did, ramming that mean steel blade right into the city boy’s esophagus. He was deceased before he knew it. Big Jim then made his way over to the unconscious man, yanked his head up by his hair and slashed him ear to ear. That night Clarissa, Dennis, and Big Jim would haul those bodies to Robert Turner’s farm to get rid of them.

Yeah, Big Jim was no joke and when he passed from a heart attack, well it just brought every eye in town to tears. The funeral was held at his house. Understandably, the better part of the town showed up to pay their respect and all were in the bark yard where the service was being held. That is, except for Big Jim’s grandson Waylon. That’s because he had snuck off to the basement.

Big Jim had a heart, and he was an open book, more or less, that is except for his private room in the basement. This room is where he spent a considerable amount of time and when he was in the basement, the old man was not to be disturbed.

The mystery of that room captivated the young boy’s mind. What was in that room? All sorts of scenarios went through the kid’s head. Hell, at one time he thought that his grandpa had a space alien locked up in there. I’m serious, that’s how secretive he was about how he spent his time.

Waylon knew that the room was fastened by a simple padlock and luckily for him he knew just where to get a pair of bolt cutters, which he snuck over there and hid in the bushes close by. As he stood in front of that ominous door all sorts of shit went through Waylon’s twelve-year-old head but he knew that this was his only chance he’d get.

The bolt cutters worked like expected, but Waylon froze for a moment. What if something so awful was being imprisoned behind this door that his grandfather took it upon himself to shield his family from it? And what if, by opening this door, that evil were to escape and wreak havoc? There was no point of contemplating at this point. The lock was busted and his hand was already on the door knob.

Now, before we proceed any further with this story, there is something we should address about Big Jim. His wife was Bridgette and in her day she was hell on wheels. As Big Jim told the story, he fell in love one night way back when they were both in their early twenties. Brigette was a Tom Boy and boy did she love to fight men. I mean, she was ruthless, and she had a particular distaste for pedophiles and rapists. That year Frank Reed had been arrested for molesting a sixteen-year-old girl, but since we all know that the court system is a joke, he got off on a technicality. Now Brigette never would admit to it for obvious reasons, but it is presumed to be true that she went to Frank’s house one night in the summer and cut his dick off. Frank lived, but she took the dick with her and fed it to her dog. The police never could get an answer out of that man as to who done it but when Big Jim caught wind of what Brigette had done he knew that this was the woman for him.

Brigette saw Big Jim as a wildcard with a heart, and that appealed to her. So when he announced that he was going to have a secret space for himself many years ago, she asked no questions. She trusted her husband was doing nothing more than blowing off steam, probably drinking beers and tinkering with the model cars he was obsessed with making.

Despite all the young Waylon’s planning, he did not anticipate Brigette’s keen sense of awareness. So when she saw her son’s kid sneak back into the house, she knew damn well what he was about to do. For fuck’s sake, everyone in town knew about his secret room and we all wondered what was in it. Brigette didn’t care that her husband was dead, she intended to keep the promise she made to him years earlier, to never step foot in that room. She’d be damned if she was going to let some snot-nosed brat disrespect her deceased husband.

By the time she found an opportunity to slip away unnoticed, she took it. Once in the house she moved quickly to the basement but when she got there, it was too late. The door was open, and the boy had disrespected a dead man’s wishes.

“Now you really did it Waylon.”

He seemed unfazed by her voice. The boy wasn’t even startled by the unexpected company, he was too focused on what he saw. As Brigette descended the stairs her anger turned to curiosity. What was in that room to steal her grandson’s attention so much that he couldn’t even hear the ass whooping he was going to get when she told his father? When she saw the tears in his eyes her curiosity turned to concern.

“Waylon?” she called out. He turned his head toward her and she saw trauma. It was that same look Frank had on him when she sliced off his willy.

“Grandma, I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

“Well, you went on and opened it. So what’s in there that has you so upset?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Boy, you better tell me.” Anger was returning, but when she got to the doorframe she too froze. “Holy shit.”

Big Jim’s secret room was a secret no more, and what the two of them saw was nothing short of disturbings. The room contained a shrine of sorts. Every inch of wall space was covered in Polaroid pictures, and in those pictures were children. In some pictures she could see parts of Big Jim which she identified by his chest tattoo, which was of a confederate flag. In all the pictures, the kids are naked, some crying. As horrifying as these were, they didn’t compare to the ones of her husband performing various sexual acts. Big Jim was a pedophile.

How does one recover from such revelations? She knew that Waylon couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut and once word go out that she was married to a kid diddler, well, she couldn’t bear the embarrassment.

“Waylon. I want you to go back to the funeral. Say nothing.”

The poor kid was so shocked that he obeyed without so much as a whimper, making his way back like a soldier suffering from shell shock. Once alone Brigette dropped the touch act and began sobbing. Her entire life with Big Jim was a disgusting lie. She slept in the same bed with this filthy monster. There was no stopping this. Word was sure to spread but what she can do is make certain that nobody ever sees the contents of that room.

After getting back her composure, Brigette made her way to the garage where she retrieved two cans of gasoline. With a broken heart, she poured it all over that room. Every inch was dripping with gasoline. Once both cans were empty, she grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen. Without hesitation, she struck a match and tossed it into the room.

Brigette stood there, watching the room burn with all its contents until she no longer could stand the heat. As she made her way back to the funeral, the flames began to spread to the rest of the house.

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estamos-destinadas · 4 years ago

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So, I recently--and by that I mean this past week--started working on a new story idea for Juliantina.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block these past couple of months--the ideas are there, I just couldn’t seem to put them into words. It was such a relief to me when, after I thought of this idea, the words just started flowing.

Since this story has me really excited, I thought I’d share the first half of the first chapter of the story. As always, I won’t post it on Ao3 until it’s done. And please, if you can, refrain from reblogging 😅-- I kinda feel guilty when I see my story ideas going around and they’re unfinished.

Anyway, story under the cut (please work because this is long.)

On Earth Year 3010, the year Juliana turned ten, she and her mother, Lupé, left the slums of Santonio for the Palacio del Progreso.

The Progreso was in fact a sprawling estate, the “Palacio” in its name taken from the grand mansion at the heart of it. It was the residence of the Carvajals, whose patriarch, León Carvajal, was one of the Administrators of the Nor-Am Oligarchy. The thirteen Administrator families were descended from the billionaires of hundreds of years ago, their riches accumulating with each new generation, wealth unchecked becoming power unopposed until North America stopped pretending to be a democracy and became a nation ruled by its thirteen richest families.

Juliana did not know that particular history. In the slums, education was a fever dream, and there was no time to dream. She did know—she could observe—that the Progreso was as different from Santonio as it was possible to be.

Where Santonio had murky canals, the Progreso had crystal clear pools; where Santonio was blanketed with smog, the air within the Progreso’s perimeter was cleaned by powerful purifiers; where Santonio was all filthy and derelict buildings, the Progreso was true to its palatial name; where the ground of Santonio could barely grow weeds, the Progreso’s greenhouses and gardens boasted plants and flowers and trees that no longer occurred naturally in Earth’s poisoned soil.

Lupé had taken a job as one of the caretakers of the Progreso’s gardens. Lucía, an old friend, and now León Carvajal’s new wife, had gotten it for her. She and Lucía had used to work at one of the factories owned by the Carvajals, where they’d worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, all through the year for little pay. But then León had seen Lucía and had fallen in love, taking her to the Progreso. Lucía, who would not forget the life she’d led until then, had found jobs for her old friends within the estate’s walls.

In the Nor-Am Oligarchy, connection mattered.

That connection gave Lupé a job with gentler hours and better pay. The connection meant that she and her daughter could live in the staff’s compound within the Progreso, in an apartment that was much bigger than their old matchbox of a room in Santonio. It meant that Juliana could stop taking odd jobs to supplement their income, could stop worrying about her next meal. It meant that, finally, she could start getting her education.

⁂

Education was a completely new experience for Juliana and, at first, it felt like butting her head against a wall, or maybe trying to breathe underwater in one of Santonio’s canals.

It did help, however, that León Carvajal provided air-conditioned vehicles for his residential staff’s children, which daily took them outside of the Progreso, through affluent but smog-filled streets, and to a nearby school with air-conditioned buildings. It also helped that the Progreso’s main library was open to its residents, from the Carvajal family, to their guests, and even to the estate’s numerous staff and servants.

Every day, after school, when the other kids went to play in the rec area of the staff’s compound, Juliana went to the library, trying to catch up to classmates who had been going to school their whole lives.

That was where she met Valentina, almost a month after she and her mother arrived at the Palacio del Progreso.

Juliana, having taken a break from reviewing her lessons, was flipping through a book about 21st-century art—an actual paper book, that was how rich the Carvajals were—when she heard the sound of poorly-suppressed sobs. It was coming from a nearby row of kiosks, where one could download books and magazines and all sorts of digital media to their own personal devices.

Juliana decided to investigate. She passed by the kiosks, looking through the gaps between them, until she saw a girl sitting at a table near the windows. The girl, who was gazing downwards with her shoulders hunched, seemed to be her age. Juliana hesitated for a moment before approaching the girl.

“Estás bien?” Juliana asked.

The girl’s shoulders stiffened, her soft sobs cutting off, but she made no reply.

“Necesitas algo?”

“Estar sola, necesito… estar sola.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I heard you crying and I thought—” Juliana cut herself off. What was she thinking, bothering someone who clearly wanted to be alone. “You’re right,” she awkwardly scuffed the sole of her shoe against the marble floor. “I’ll let you be.”

With that, Juliana turned on her heel, but she had only taken one step away before the girl called out to her with a, “Hey, sorry, wait.” When Juliana turned back to her, the girl added, “I think—I think I’m fine, thank you.”

If the tears in her eyes did not tell Juliana that the girl was lying, the way her voice shook did. Her heart went out to the sad girl, who had the prettiest face Juliana had ever seen, though her brain filed that information away for later.

Juliana sat on the chair across from the girl. “So, what is it?” she asked, frank as any ten-year old. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to help solve the girl’s problem, even though she’d just met her, even if she didn’t know who she was.

The girl wiped her tears before launching into it. “My dad wants me to go to school! I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here and read what I want to read, not what schools think I should read. And I want to go with him or my sister when they take trips to other nations, or to the moon, or to the other planets. If I go to school, I can only go with them during the holidays.”

Juliana had never met another kid who talked about travelling to other nations or other planets so casually, but she focused on what they did have in common. It seemed that the girl had also never been to school before.

“Oh, well, school’s not so bad, you know,” Juliana told the girl. “I started it for the first time last month too. Reading’s really hard—” Lupé had taught Juliana how to read when she was younger, but the slums of Santonio was not conducive to such an activity, “—but I’m learning a lot of really cool things. Like, did you know that North and South America used to be connected by land? I didn’t even know there was a South America!”

The girl gaped wordlessly at Juliana, her blue eyes wide and curious. When she found her voice, she began delicately, “I… I know. I’m learning with my tutors, but I don’t want to go to school. I want to do things at my own pace.”

“You can do that? Learn with tutors, I mean?” Juliana asked, borrowing the girl’s phrasing. It would be nice to learn at her own pace. It just seemed to Juliana that all her classmates were far ahead of her.

“Yes?” The girl cleared her throat. “I mean, yes.”

“Oh,” Juliana said, feeling like she was missing something. It began to dawn on her that the clothes the girl was wearing looked very expensive. On a hunch, she asked, “Do you live at the compound?”

“Huh?” the girl started, though she quickly added, “Oh, the staff’s compound! Uhm, no. I live here.”

“Like the guest houses?” Juliana almost begged. The guest houses were near the library after all.

The girl’s lips turned at the corners. “No, at the mansion.”

Which meant, Juliana realised, that the girl was a member of the Carvajal family, and that the dad she’d been talking about was León Carvajal himself. Juliana blushed, but before she could really process how embarrassing it was to tell the daughter of an Administrator of the North American Oligarchy that she had not known there was a South America, the girl’s smile broke out.

It was a kind smile. The girl’s gentle gaze told Juliana that she wasn’t being judged for her ignorance.

“You know,” the girl began, “I’m a really good reader. I got almost a hundred percent in my speed reading and reading comprehension tests.”

It was Juliana’s turn to gape at the girl. “Okay?”

“I could teach you!” the girl said excitedly, her previous complaints about school seemingly forgotten. “You said you found reading hard, I could help you get better at it. Only if you want to, of course,” she added quickly.

“I—really?” Juliana asked, not quite believing that the daughter of León Carvajal would want to help her get better at reading.

“Yes, really,” the girl said fervently. “Oh, but I don’t even know your name.” Before Juliana could reply, the girl extended her hand across the table. “I’m Valentina.”

As Juliana took the offered hand, she began to mirror the girl’s wide grin. “Juliana.”

⁂

A friendship was quickly formed.

True to her word, Valentina helped Juliana get better at reading, and even helped her with her lessons. School became easier for Juliana, and Valentina became more amenable to school, as long as she went to the same one as Juliana. Valentina was a year older than Juliana so they would not be in the same class, but at least they would be in the same place.

It spun another argument between Valentina and her father; the school Juliana and the other children of the residential staff went to did not have the prestige befitting a daughter of the Administrator. But Valentina was stubborn and used to getting her way, so Administrator León Carvajal had to compromise. Valentina was allowed to go to the same school as Juliana, as long as she continued to study with her tutors. Valentina was perfectly content with the arrangement.

Outside of school, where Valentina wanted to go, Juliana happily followed. Not that Valentina went where Juliana did not want to go, or could not follow. They spent all their time together, whether it was at the library, the gardens to visit Juliana’s mom, the sports and rec areas around the Progreso, particularly the poolhouse to go swimming, even the mansion itself. The last one took some getting used to for Juliana, but she eventually became comfortable enough to not feel like an intruder in the Carvajal family mansion.

They were inseparable.

One could say that Juliana and Valentina took to each other as a fish takes to the sea, or as a bird takes to the sky, but most birds had gone extinct, and what fish there was left lived in the depths of the ocean, or were cultivated in tanks or artificial bodies of water.

The older people had a different metaphor for it: linked by the guts.

One time, Lupé burst out in fond exasperation, “Why do you always have to go with the Administrator’s daughter everywhere? Are your guts linked together?”

Another time, León asked, “Are you really not going with me and Lucía to Venus because Juliana can’t come?” When Valentina answered in the affirmative, he observed in amusement, “You two are linked by the guts.” A few days after that, Juliana was preparing for her first interplanetary trip.

Guille, Valentina’s older brother, remarked that they were like the entangled particles of paired Qubes.

Qubes—or Quantumly-Entangled Communication Boxes—always came in pairs. The subatomic particles inside one Qube were quantumly-entangled with the particles of one other Qube. Whatever configuration the particles of one Qube were in, that was always reflected in its paired Qube.

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, limited, and as a communication medium light was prone to interference.

It meant that, in the past, off-world communication was slow and unreliable. When physicists and engineers unlocked the secrets of quantum entanglement almost a millennium ago, the exchange of messages became instantaneous with paired Qubes.

Nothing can travel faster than light, but there was a way to work around it.

Of course, Qubes were of the most use in interplanetary or interstellar communications. Within a planet’s atmosphere, radio waves and cables were still the more efficient form of communication, if only because they were much cheaper and faster to make.

So Valentina balked at her brother’s analogy. “That makes no sense, Guille,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “Entangled particles—paired Qubes—are useful when they are very far apart from each other, like light years apart. I don’t want to be light years apart from Juliana.”

They were at the mansion’s kitchen, watching Chivis, one the family’s personal servants, prepare an afternoon snack for Valentina and Juliana when Guille joined them and made his observation.

Glancing at her best friend, Valentina caught Juliana’s shy smile at her declaration. Valentina couldn’t help but mirror her smile. They’d known each other for a little over a year by then; Valentina understood the irrefutable truth of her statement. She did not want to be apart from Juliana. In fact, she wanted to be as close to her as possible, often longing to brush Juliana’s hair, to rub her cheeks against Juliana’s cheeks. With the kitchen counter between them, Valentina settled for grabbing Juliana’s hand. Juliana met her gaze; Valentina’s smile widened.

Guille waved a hand at the two of them, as if to demonstrate his point, but Valentina and Juliana were still gazing at each other and Chivis ignored him. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat to get their attention, “if you two lived light years apart, you two would still be—” he linked his hands through interlaced fingers, “—entangled.”

Juliana felt her face heat up, pleased and flattered. She thought it was nice, to hear Valentina’s brother make such remarks about their closeness.

Valentina thought differently. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, slapping her brother’s arm, not appreciating the idea of living far away from Juliana.

Guille laughed as he moved away from Valentina, pretending to be hurt. Valentina laughed at his reaction. Juliana laughed at Valentina’s laughter, the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks dimpled.

Chivis, much older and with much more experience of life, did not laugh at their banter.

⁂

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, a hard physical limit of the universe: 299,792.5 kilometres per second. In one Earth Year, light traveled a distance of 9.46 trillion kilometres: 1 light year.

The fastest interstellar ships were powered by warp drives, first built by physicists and engineers from over half a millennium ago. The warp ships were named after a fictional technology from millennia-old stories, but whereas the warp ships from the stories could overtake the speed of light by ever-increasing magnitudes, the real warp ships could not. Warp ships could travel nearly as fast as light, but not as fast as, and never faster.

Apart from an obscure reference to old fictional stories, warp ships were so called because of how it warped time for the ship’s passengers. At or near the speed of light, time dilated. To anyone and anything within a warp ship, trips take only a few hours, even a few minutes. To everyone and everything outside it, a ship that traveled a distance of a hundred light years would have taken a hundred Earth Years to get from its origin to its destination.

At the advent of warp ships, a group of astronauts travelled to Proxima Centauri—4 light years from Earth—then after a week at the system returned to Earth for a total distance travelled of 8 light years. To the astronauts, the round trip had taken a few minutes each way; to everyone outside the ship, the trip had taken over 8 years. One of the astronauts had been a mother. When she’d come back, her daughter—left on Earth—had aged 8 years in the absence that to the mother felt much less than that.

Because of the time dilation—the warp—it was impossible to interact with anyone and anything within a ship while it was traveling nearly as fast as light. Not even through Qubes, which were invented a couple of centuries before the warp ships. Even entangled particles could not sync when a second for one meant a lifetime for the other.

To travel in a warp ship at a distance of light years—5, 10, 100—meant to jump in time 5, 10, or 100 years to the future, putting not just space but also time between yourself and your loved ones.

Chivis, older and wiser, knew this. Interstellar travel was a special kind of heartbreak, it was no laughing matter.

Almost a year after that joking banter between the siblings, Valentina and Guille began to understand that heartbreak.

After warp ships were perfected, humanity began the Hundred Year Exodus. For a hundred years—and more—warp ships carrying thousands of people set off for far flung planets, hoping for a cleaner world, for better societies. Now, centuries later, the human diaspora was spread out over 500 light years from Earth in different directions, linked only by the paired Qubes the emigrants brought with them. But to travel to those colonies, hundreds of light years away, meant leaving the Earth as one knew it for good.

Chivis, who was retiring, had announced just that: she was going away to a colonised planet more than 200 light years’ distance from Earth.

“By the time she gets there, I’d be dead,” Valentina said lowly to Juliana.

They were lying side by side on Valentina’s bed, on the evening after Chivis’ departure. Valentina and Juliana often had sleepovers at the Carvajal family mansion. Usually they would be giggling over some vid or book or something that happened during the day, but when Juliana joined Valentina that evening, the latter had been crying into her pillows for most of the afternoon.

Valentina continued talking. “I know that she chose that planet because her children decided to move there, but she is—was—is,” Valentina huffed, even the tenses got confusing, “she’s like family to me too.” Valentina knew that she could not have hoped to compare against Chivis’ children and grandchildren when the woman had still been weighing her decision, but it had still hurt when Chivis had told her that she was leaving. “I’m going to miss her. I already miss her.”

“Val,” Juliana said gently, taking her best friend’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers, “she’s going to miss you too. And it wasn’t an easy decision for her to make. She said so, right?”

“Yeah,” Valentina agreed in a whisper.

“She loved—she loves you Val, that doesn’t change.”

“It still sucks.”

“I know,” Juliana said gently, squeezing Valentina’s hand.

Valentina squeezed back before moving sideways and closing the distance between them so that her head was against Juliana’s shoulder, her hand wrapped around Juliana’s arms, her leg draped over Juliana’s legs.

“It helps that you’re here,” Valentina said. Suddenly overtaken with a certain fear, she gripped Juliana’s arm tightly, but it went away just as quickly and she loosened her hold. “I’m glad you’re here.”

⁂

That was not Valentina’s first experience with loss.

She had only been eight years old when her mother had passed away, and Valentina’s longing for her never quite went out.

“I still look around for her sometimes,” she’d once confessed to Juliana in a whisper, a few months after they’d met.

Even then, Valentina had found it easy to talk to Juliana about anything. She’d been the only person Valentina could really talk to about how it had felt to lose her mother at such a young age. It was the way Juliana had listened to her every word, and had seemed to understand exactly what Valentina had meant.

Valentina had tried to return the favour, tried to ask Juliana about her father, but Juliana had always clammed up when the subject was brought up.

It wasn’t until the day Juliana turned thirteen that she opened up about her father. He had not come to celebrate with her and Lupé, but he’d sent her some presents.

“I’m not really cut up that he didn’t come,” Juliana told Valentina matter-of-factly after her party, where she’d invited a few of her classmates. “I’m used to it,” she added with a shrug.

Macario Valdés had rarely ever been around back in Santonio; he had never come to visit once Lupé and Juliana moved to the Progreso.

“It was probably for the best anyway. He would have scared everyone off.”

He was a harsh man, not given to gentleness or affection.

“I’m surprised he even gave me anything.”

He was cold and distant.

“But maybe these actually came from Lupé, and she only pretended that it was from him.”

There was no doubt in Juliana’s mind that Lupé loved him dearly, that Lupé thought he was the most amazing man in the entire world. She could see it from the way Lupé talked about him, from the way Lupé preened on the rare occasion that he called.

To Juliana, he was just her mother’s absent husband. At least that was what she told herself.

Valentina did not understand how anyone could ever choose to be absent from Juliana’s life, but she did not say that out loud. Instead, she asked, “What did he get you?”

“Some books?” Juliana said doubtfully. Lupé had said that she’d downloaded them onto Juliana’s personal tablet, but Juliana hadn’t looked at it yet. “Which, I don’t know why, because there’s a library here.” She did not know what her father could have sent her that was not available in the Progreso’s huge library. “But I guess that means they really were from him.” Lupé would not have gotten her books.

Juliana huffed, waving away thoughts of absent fathers and thoughtless gifts. She looked at Valentina. “Thank you for your presents, by the way. Me encantan mucho.”

She’d already thanked her, but she felt like she could not express her gratitude enough. Valentina had gotten her a painting set, an actual physical painting set, with paper sketchbooks, a few canvases, and pencils and brushes and water colours. Juliana had done normal art—digital art—from the time she’d gotten her first tablet, but she’d always wanted to do art on paper and canvases.

“Of course,” Valentina said, “anything for you, Juls.”

Juliana smiled shyly, meeting Valentina’s eyes until, feeling overwhelmed by the depths of emotion in them, she gazed down at their joined hands and burrowed closer to Valentina, who tightened her hold around Juliana.

They were in Juliana’s bed, about to turn in for the night. Juliana’s other guests had left after the birthday party but Valentina had stayed for the rare sleepover at the Valdéses’ apartment. Juliana’s single bed was much smaller than Valentina’s so it was a tight squeeze, but Juliana didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it a lot.

Juliana liked being pressed close to Valentina. She liked holding Valentina’s hand. She liked it when Valentina hugged her tightly; she would always hug back and never want to let go. She liked it when Valentina kissed her cheeks; that was a new thing that Valentina did, and Juliana could not get enough of it. She liked it when Valentina would watch her for long moments, those pretty blue eyes seemingly glued on Juliana, even though it made her a little shy. And she liked gazing at Valentina in turn, never wanting to take her eyes off of her, because Valentina was the most beautiful person Juliana had ever seen, and she had the prettiest smile that made Juliana’s insides seem to fly.

This premise/idea is actually not a new one. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years, but I’ve never been interested in putting one of my ships in this setting until Juliantina--not in writing or even in stories that are just in my head.

I’ve also wanted to write a certain kind of fic, a certain mood of fic, for Juliantina, but nothing seemed to fit their personalities--well, Val’s personality. I think this premise would achieve that mood without making them OOC. (I don’t know if I’m making any sense lol.)

Oh, and if you’ve reached this far, I wonder if you could guess where this story would be headed? 😊

#fic #au #mine #teaser #stories #if you are wondering about the harry potter au #like I said above #I've had a bad case of writer's block #I have the next installment outlined #but the words are stubbornly refusing to be formed #I had to take a step back #and increase my reading (not fics but published works) to sort of get those words #but somehow this was what came of that #oh well #I will still continue with the hp au though #the next installment just won't come soon

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bigjimbigsecret · 4 years ago

Text

Big Jim’s Big Secret

“I’m going to ask you boys to bring it down a notch or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Clarissa spoke loud and clear so that there was no mistaking anything.

“Fuck you, redneck slut.” the one with four lips rings responded before pouring his beer all over the floor. “You better clean that up less you want a lawsuit.”

“Oh, so you want to play games.”

“Big Jim, carve this fucker up real nice.”

“Now you really did it Waylon.”

“Waylon?” she called out. He turned his head toward her and she saw trauma. It was that same look Frank had on him when she sliced off his willy.

“Grandma, I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

“Well, you went on and opened it. So what’s in there that has you so upset?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Boy, you better tell me.” Anger was returning, but when she got to the doorframe she too froze. “Holy shit.”

“Waylon. I want you to go back to the funeral. Say nothing.”

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

Note

Hi. If the writing requests are still open, could you maybe do something with flirting freed and blushing Laxus. Thanks :)

Hello. I mentioned Laxus blushing maybe twice and got totally of track with this au. I’m awfully sorry and I hope u still accept this offer lmao

Short summary: Au where Laxus works for a rich family. Their son is cursed to freeze the people he loves, so he has to keep a distance from them. Truly, A Very Not Good Time

WC: 5548 words

Fic under the cut!

With a slight tremour in his hand, Laxus looks up at the pristine white walls looming over him. Sighing deeply, he clutches the handle of his suitcase tighter and the servant next to him blisfully ignores him. "The Lord and Lady are awaiting you in the pavilion in the garden. You can leave your luggage here, someone will come and pick them up for you. If you'd follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, the stiff man turns around, striding away and Laxus awkwardly falls in tempo beside him. After a short walk that luckily doesn't leave him sweating, he is deposited in front of two people whose handkerchiefs look like they cost more than Laxus' entire outfit. It's now that he realises how out of his depth he is.

He clears his throat, but the servant stops him from going any further by stepping none too delicately on his foot. "Quiet", he hisses, "The Lord and Lady will speak to you as and when they see fit."

"Oh Charles, don't be like that", the Lord smiles and the servant bows hastily. Unsure of what to do, Laxus gives the man something between a bow and a firm nod. "You are dismissed", the man addresses the servant before beckoning Laxus to come closer. "Come hither young man, I've heard wonderful things about you." Laxus does as he's told and when the Lord offers him a chair, he accepts it. "Are you nervous?" his wife asks, eyes deep blue and sparkling with a barely hidden misschief.

Is he nervous? It's a wonder that she doesn't seem to ask it as a rhetorical question, instead she seems to be genuinely wondering about it. Of course he is. The two people in front of him own the land he's lived on all his life and then some. They're powerful, some say even on par with the king and with power does of course come an obscene amount of money.

Normally, Laxus doesn't care for the amount of cash one has or how many carriages they'll be able to buy in one lifetime. He'd gladly tell them to get hit by those carriages if he thought they'd deserve it. But now he can't afford to do that and somewhere, it does bother him. He's always been a man of simple pleasures and being brutally honest had been one of those things.

Being honest however, is something he can't do now. This job they've offered him pays more than any other in town and more importantly, he would be given a housing. With this job he could finally pay for his grandpa's medicine and he could give the old man a proper place to stay. No matter how these people will be treating him in the future, he'll have to shove his pride aside to keep this job.

"A little bit. But I don't think it'll affect my work and should it do so anything, you are free to claim it was artistic whims that made your garden look so avant-garde." The lady hums and spares him a little smile. "I am fond of whimsical things. It's why I married him", she jokes and moves her head into the direction of her husband. Laxus can't help but let a laugh escape.

Lord Justine raises a brow at that and Laxus quickly shuts his mouth again. Would you look at that, he's already overstepped his boundaries. The Lord's face clears up at that and he waves Laxus' worries away. "Young man, we've offered you to maintain our garden because we admire your work. You are an official part of our staff now, so don't be afraid to be frank. Life gets awfully boring when people trip over themselves to bend to your will without thinking. Do me a favour and don't be like that, okay?"

"Yes sir!" Laxus yells, bending to the man's will without thinking. Catching up to his own actions, he colours red. Ah damn. The couple doesn't seem to mind though, as they just brush it off with a laugh. "You are dismissed, change this garden as you see fit. It is your domain now."

"Ah dear", Lady Justine interrupts, "Let the young man settle in a bit first. Laxus right? We have honoured your request and have brought your grandfather over. He now resides in the room next to yours. Pardon me for asking though, but does he need a doctor? The man has a sickly glow about him." Concern colours her soft facial features and Laxus hesitates to answer. Then he remembers their command to be frank with them.

"I would really appreciate it if you did that. Thank you for your kindness. I'll try to pay you back in any way that I can." Lady Justine shakes her head, but the Lord gives him a once-over. "Say Laxus, can you hold your own in a fight? You are quite a big guy, I bet you could."

"I've had no formal training, but I have grown up around bar and streetfights", Laxus admits and the man hums in consideration. "We have a single child", he says and Lady Justine sighs: "And what a child it is."

"The boy has been cursed since birth by a witch who felt wronged by the both of us. This curse makes it so that our boy is very, very cold to any and all potential suitors. Cold to a painful degree for the opposing party and everyone who happens to watch the scene. Now if he were to be a bit of an ugly duckling, it wouldn't have been a problem. But unfortunately", Lord Justine moves his hand between his wife and himself and it hits Laxus just how stunning these two creatures are. "That's not exactly the case. Without meaning to, our son starts quite a lot of fights. He's a capable fighter, but if you happen to be around him, could you try to persuade him from instigating it? It would make the both of us very, very happy."

"I'll try?" Laxus says, unsure of how exactly he's supposed to keep a brat with blue who seems to be keen on starting fights in line. He's unsure whether it's really a curse or just a case of rotten personality. "That's all we could ask for", Lady Justine says before the couple lets him go.

The garden's magnificent and the fact that he's been given free reign over it makes his experience there so much better. It's all very pleasing to begin with, but there's so much unused lawn and after a moment of hesitation, he plants some fruits trees. After Lady Justine had commented on how nice they were, he had thrown his caution out of the window and had gone wild with the fruits and vegetables. He was a practical man at heart after all.

It's a few months into his work that he meets the young lord known as Freed Justine. No amount of warning had been able to prepare him for actually laying eyes upon the man in question.

He's dressed in a loose, light blue tunic. The fabric conceals some of his figure, but it does reveal a slight sliver of smooth skin and contrasting sharp collarbones and Laxus can barely draw his away from it. When his gaze travels upwards he lays eyes upon the softest looking pink lips in the world and he briefly wonders how they would feel against his own. After dismissing that thought, he spots the man's eyes, an impossible shade of blue that pops against the pale background of his skin. A beauty mark graces his left eye, making him look even more elegant. The finisher is his hair, looking like silk draped over one shoulder, moving softly as the stubborn wind tries to make a mess out of it. That doesn't happen though.

In front of the angelic looking man is another man, kneeling with his forehead against the ground. "Lord Freed!" the man in question yells, "Please accept my undying love and affection for you!"

"No. No, I don't think I will. Please leave." The object of the man's desires dryly says before turning his gaze towards Laxus. When his uncovered eye fully meets Laxus' eyes, he gets why people call the man in front of him cold. He's never once met someone who could relay complete and utter boredom that well with a single gaze. In a single eye. It's actually quite impressive.

"Are you a guard?" Laxus winces a bit at the sharp tone. "No, I'm the gardener."

"You lug wood around? Would you dispose of this for me?" Laxus has half the mind to tell him to dispose of the now crying lad himself, but then he remembers the request of Freed's parents. He promised them to try to keep their son out of fights, so he can't exactly tell him to start one. With a sigh he clamps the sobbing, love-struck fool under his arm and throws a salute. "I'll be putting him outside the gate."

"Have fun with that", Freed tells him and re-enters the home without sparing Laxus another glance. Somewhere within him, he wishes the man had looked back at him.

As soon as Freed's out of sight, it's like the man under his arm snaps out of a trance. "That fucking bitch", he rages as he trashes against Laxus' hold. "I'll kill him! Who does he think he is? He thinks he can go around stomping on people's hearts, just because he happens to be pretty and rich?"

"To be fair", Laxus starts, "He has every right to say no to people. You know that right?"

"He'll never get anyone better than me. At least I'm not only pursuing him for his money. He should be grateful. In fact, he should be the one begging for my attention!" Throughout his spiel, Laxus has taken the chance to take a proper look at the man he has trapped. "No offence, but aren't you a few decades older than him? Shouldn't you be a bit ashamed of chasing a young man in such a dishonourable manner?"

The old man now redirects his attention towards Laxus, but before he can voice his opinions, Laxus throws him over the fence. "Goodbye filthy geezer. Please don't come back."

God, Laxus wishes that old man would come back. Well, not really but the quality of men and women that have come in pursuit of Freed has only been declining since then. Although they're absolutely starstruck when meeting the young man, it doesn't conceal their greed and their particular brand of lewdness. The things Laxus has heard are absolutely disgusting and he wonders how Freed hasn't blown his own eardrums out yet, to save him from the comments directed his way. Laxus gladly disposes of them for him. Freed always leaves without sparing him a second glance.

One day, there's a change in routine. While Laxus is tending to his trees one morning, he hears soft footsteps and when he turns around, he sees Freed sitting down on the steps of the pavilion. "There are chairs in the shed, you know. I could get one for you if you want?" he offers and Freed jumps a little. Apparently the man hadn't noticed him yet.

The man gives a timid little shake of the head. "It's quite alright", he says and in the peaceful morning, Laxus can pay attention to the specifics of his voice. He's surprisingly soft spoken, but Laxus wouldn't call him shy. He has a velvety smooth and deep voice and talks in a calm manner, as though he knows that he'll be listened to without having to raise his voice.

For a while Laxus feels the man studying him. "Is there any reason you're here?" he decides to ask, unwilling to bear the silence any longer. "Peace, mostly", the younger man admits. "Also, they told me there was a big chance of meeting you out here."

"Oh."

"I don't think I've formally introduced to you. I am Freed Justine", he says and offers Laxus his hand. "I gathered that", Laxus answers as he shakes the hand. Freed's grip is surprisingly strong. "Jee, I wonder where you gathered that information from. Surely it wasn't from the string of admirers moaning it everyday."

Laxus snorts at the joke, but the facial expression of the young man in front of him doesn't change so Laxus quickly stops. "Please don't do that. This", Freed waves his hand in front of his stony expression, "doesn't ever change. I prefer it that way, it adds a bit of mystery to my character I think."

"You don't want people to know your thoughts", Laxus guesses and Freed gives him a nod. "I'd rather not. My life's bothersome enough as is, imagine how much more troublesome it would be if people could read my thoughts on my face instead of feeling them on their skin."

Seeing the puzzled expression on Laxus' face, Freed offers him both of his hands and Laxus tentatively takes them. The first thing he notices is the roughness of his palms and he wonders what Freed likes to do in his spare time. The second thing he notices is that they're unusually chilly and the longer he holds onto them, the colder they get. After a while it gets painful to hold onto them, so he lets go with an apologetic wince.

"The more I like a person, the colder I get. I think you're quite alright and I'd even say I like you a bit. But I have no deep attachments to you, so you are able to touch me for a little while. If I were to love you more than myself, you wouldn't even be able to be near me, you'd freeze into a fun statue of pure ice. If I felt completely neutral towards you, you would not be affected by the curse at all."

Laxus frowns at that. "That does not sound like a fun situation. How do you deal with it?" Freed gives him a mirthless smile. "I simply avoid getting close to people. It's easier than you think it is, mister Dreyar." He turns around after that, not telling Laxus goodbye and once again, he doesn't look back. Laxus, however keeps staring at the spot the young man had stood in. How awful it must be, to be close to no one. To not be able to feel the touch of someone who truly loves you.

After that particular conversation, Freed appears more often during Laxus' work. He never joins him in planting new plants or weeding though, he simply watches or reads a book in Laxus' vicinity. It's peaceful and every now and then they have other small talks. It's during those talks that Laxus learns that Freed does in fact have friends, he just doesn't meet up with them anymore after an incident he refuses to tell Laxus more about. When spotting his sad expression, Freed reaches over to smooth Laxus' worry-wrinkles out and Laxus notices that his hand feels colder than before. "Don't be saddened, we still write each other. Nothing's lost, it has only changed."

During one of Freed's visit, Laxus tells him he might as well get his hands dirty if he keeps distracting him from his work. He offers Freed a little sapling with a smile and quickly that smile withers as the plant in Freed's hands does the same. "My apologies", Freed says as though he had done something wrong instead of Laxus. "I fear I simply do not have the green fingers needed for this type of work. I'll leave it to the master of the garden instead." With an even colder finger, Freed briefly pokes him in the cheek and Laxus knows he isn't mad at him.

Freed's appearances are now a constant in his life and something Laxus constantly looks forward to. From what little hints Freed gives him, the man feels the same way. Freed still tries to keep a lather large distance between them, but more often than not he forgets himself and scoots closer to ask Laxus about the flowers he's planting or tell him about the all the poisons one could make with those flowers. He doesn't know why Freed knows such an alarming amount of poisons, but it's a quirk he doesn't dislike.

Freed likes to ramble, Laxus comes to find out. It's surprising how much he knows about various topics and how clearly he can explain things. Freed's face is the most open when he's ranting about one of the books he's read that day and Laxus finds himself fascinated. Besides talking, Freed's also really good at listening. When Laxus tells him about his past, the man lets his guard down completely to show his compassion from quite a distance away. Freed explains that his curse can temporarily rise up when he's feeling something very passionately.

It's on a sunny day, where the bees are buzzing and the heath is turning the atmosphere languid and the good kind of lazy, that Laxus offers Freed a hug.

Here's the story. Laxus, although brought up in a household where declarations of affection weren't the norm, knows what it feels like to receive positive bodily affection. A pat on his back, a ruffle through his hair, a loving shoulderbump, he has received them all. Freed hasn't. Not regularly and Laxus guesses, not ever.

He's seen the Justine parents interact with their son and although it hadn't been malicious, their interactions had been anything but warm and friendly. There was an obvious mutual respect, but the parents held their son at an arms' length. Laxus' heart ached when he had laid eyes on the spectacle and that had been the beginning of his desire to provide for Freed emotionally in some way, shape or form. God knows he himself is quite clumsy when it comes to being affectionate (quite clumsy doesn't start to begin to describe it, actually), but he wants to at least do something.

"Hey Freed", he calls out the man laying next to him on the picnic blanket. "Hm?" the man says, not opening his eyes at all, but still signifying that he's paying attention to Laxus. "Would you like a hug? I know you don't like touching people because of your accident, but we're not all that close, I think. It should be pretty safe, want to try it out?"

That does make Freed's eye snap open and he rolls on his side to face Laxus. "Why?" he asks and Laxus shrugs. "I thought it'd be nice, that's all."

"Do you pity me?" Freed asks, voice dangerously low and blue eyes glaring daggers. Despite the sunny weather, Laxus shivers underneath that stern glare. "No, but I sort of sympathise. There was a period in my life where I didn't receive any form of affection at all and it had quite the impact on me. Not a good one, mind you. I remember receiving my first hug after that period and I broke down and cried like a baby. It was a sight."

Freed smiles at that. "I bet it was." The fondness of his smile makes way for a particular brand of shrewdness that Laxus has come to associate with Freed. With a quick movement, the man has positioned himself above Laxus. He's not seated on his lap, which Laxus both mourns and doesn't. He doesn't mourn it because he can't embarass himself but he does mourn it because now he can see the muscles of Freed's legs working to keep him upright as he's kneeling above Laxus and dear lord, the sight of those could be the death of him.

With a rough hand, but a gentle manner, Freed tilts his chin up, forcing Laxus to meet his eyes and he dryly swallows as he sees the barely concealed heath in those deep blues. "Are you sure it's just that, mister Dreyar? Merely sympathy?" he asks, voice husky and Laxus colours a deep, deep shade of red in response. "Oh darling", Freed croons at that, "You have such an open face. You should really learn how to conceal your intentions."

"What if I don't want to?" That shuts Freed up and for a moment the man is quiet. Laxus wonders if he's screwed this up, but then Freed shakes his head and moves back away again. "Alright, give me a hug. It better be good. One of my eyes may be covered, but I am still plenty able to see those thick arms of yours. If I don't feel like the life is being squeezed out of me, I will consider this a failure."

Grinning, Laxus flexes his arms. "Don't you worry for even a second. I'll crush your ribcage." Freed snorts. "Charming." The process of getting into the hug is a bit awkward, but once there, it's alright. Of course, Laxus starts the whole thing by absolutely crushing Freed's ribcage. The man laughs it off like it's nothing and that prompts a bit of a squabble.

After a while and a lot of shifting though, Laxus has Freed in his lap, his head tucked underneath Laxus chin, back resting against Laxus' chest. Feeling brave, Laxus moves his own head from the top of Freed's head to Freed's shoulder, angling himself so he's nuzzling the man's neck. "See, this is nice."

"It is", Freed agrees before fully relaxing against Laxus chest with a content little sigh.

The moment is soon broken though, as frost creeps along Laxus' body. At first he ignores it, because Freed himself doesn't seem to notice the effect he's having on Laxus. Then, it starts getting uncomfortable and so he tries to gets the man's attention. He finds himself unable to move any part of his body though and the cold numbs his mouth as well. The thin layer of ice keeps getting thicker and the creaking of the frost is what attracts Freed's attention.

With a brusque movement, the man tears himself away from Laxus. He reaches out to Laxus, before stopping himself and running off, shouting something Laxus can't hear. It's so, so very cold. He curls into himself to gather more warmth and he finds it. He should go to sleep, he thinks as he feels his eyelids get heavy. He doesn't fight his instinct to do so.

When he wakes up, he's in his own room. Looking around he sees only one other person in the room. With a wave, his grandfather greets him. "You sure live an interesting life huh?" Ignoring his remark, Laxus asks him where Freed's at. "The young Justine? He's been fretting all day, but he has not come to visit you because he's started freezing up the hallways whenever he came too close to you. I think it's fair to say the young man likes you quite a bit."

Laxus should be elated to hear that someone loves him, but his worry for Freed overpowers that notion. "I bet he's lonely again." His grandfather nods. "With a curse like that, I imagine it's hard not to be."

It's unfair. It's unfair that Freed will live his life void of companionship. He'll never be able to be surrounded by true friends and he's constantly preyed upon by people for his status and money. The saddest part is that those kind of people are the only ones Freed will be able to live his life with, as all other will be turned to statues of ice. It's unfair that an innocent young man is punished for his parents' crimes like that. Passionately, Laxus relays those thoughts and many more to his grandfather, who patiently listens to him.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asks and because it's his grandfather talking, Laxus knows there's no malice behind the words. "I don't know. Do you know any witches that could help lift the curse?" Although it had been more of a joke than an actual question, Makarov strokes his beard as though he's mulling over Laxus' question. "No, because proper witch etiquette states that a witch should absolutely not undo another witch's curse. I do however, have an inkling who the witch might be that cursed this young man. I can tell you where to find her, but be prepared my boy. She's not a very reasonable lady."

"That's what many people say about me as well. I don't care, please tell me where to find her." After his grandfather tells him the whereabouts of this particular witch, Laxus prepares for his journey. He starts with writing Freed a letter, one where he explains that he does not blame Freed for what happened and asks for his forgiveness, as well as for the man to wait for him. That he's looking for a way for them to be together. After delivering that letter, he sets off.

This Porlyusica lady really seemed intent on ticking off all the "witch"-boxes. Unreasonable? Check. Old? Check, since his grandpa knew of her. Living in big, dark, nearly impenetrable woods? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a bother honestly, whacking his way through all the branches and thorns. But he perseveres because he has to.

Finally, he reaches her house and before he can even knock on the door, she opens her window and tells him to get lost. "Leave me alone, I've seen enough of you humans for another hundred years!" Determined, he yells back a loud "No thanks! Please let me talk to you!" She doesn't open the door for him.

So he waits in front of her door, unwilling to move an inch even if she yells at him. After three days she's finally had enough and lets him in. "You're so annoying. That particular brand of mulishness can only be attributed to one family. You're a Dreyar, aren't you?"

Sheepishly he nods and she rolls her eyes. "Of course you are. Spit out why you're here and if I'm unable to help you, leave or I'll curse you to hell and back." She's got a spine made of pure diamond, but Laxus isn't easily intimidated. "It's about that topic actually. You've cursed a man called Freed Justine."

The woman lets out a bitter, little laugh out at that. "I most certainly did not. I cursed his parents, but gave them the option to relay it someone near to them. It was only me, them and their unborn son in the room where it happened. They chose to curse their boy. Don't put that on me."

That's certainly a revelation...Laxus wonders whether he should tell Freed about it. He fears that it might shatter the already frail bond he shares with his parents and it's not as though Freed's got bonds to spare. Deciding to tackle that topic at a later moment, he turns back to Porlyusica. "Can you reverse the spell? It's ruining an innocent man's life."

She strokes her chin and gives him a squinting look. "How far are you willing to go for your goal? Do you really want this curse to be lifted or are you trying to achieve another goal by doing this?"

He shakes his head vehemently. "I'd like for him to be able to smile near his loved ones, that's all. I promise." After scrutinising him a bit more, she shrugs. "Alright then, it's not like I've got something against the young man himself. Here's the two steps to breaking the spell: 1. You're the Justine family's gardener aren't you? Here's a list of a couple of herbs I'd like you to grow there. They are only able to grow on that particular patch of land and since they stole it from me, I had to buy them. It's a financial pain in the ass, you know. 2.", she looks Laxus straight in the eyes, "Confess your honest love to him." Laxus chokes on his spit at those words. "Oh don't be like that, you're so obvious. Do that and he'll be fine."

While Laxus is still gathering his wits, she pushes the list with instructions for the herbs and some packets with seeds into his hands and manhandles him out of the door. "There you go loverboy, good luck and all that. Now scram, I've had enough human interaction to last me another three lifetimes." And with the list with herbs and a head full of confused thoughts, Laxus returns to the Justine mansion.

Part one of the counterspell is as easy as breathing. Laxus plants the herbs as soon as he comes home. He tends to them day after day, but sorely misses Freed's presence while doing so. He keeps looking out of the corner of his eyes in the hopes of laying eyes on the familiar see of green that is Freed's hair, but alas, he never comes. Sometimes Laxus thinks he can see glimpses of him through the window, but the moments are too fast and fleeting to fully conform this.

Once the saplings have fully grown, Laxus starts to work on part two of the plan. Or well, he starts to think about how he should even attempt to do such a task. He thinks, ponders and wonders a lot and ends up doing significantly less. It's embarassing, really.

A good thing though, is that recently Freed has been seeking him out again. Laxus wished they could've talked, but someone's always whisking either one of them away for something or other. It's infuriating and in those brief moments, Laxus can see that Freed thinks the exact same thing.

Finally, finally they can squeeze out of both their schedules and they find themselves in the garden, sitting on the steps of the pavilion. Before Laxus can try his hand at confessing (which probably would've gone disastrous), Freed grabs his hands with shining eyes and to Laxus' surprise, they're warm.

"It's like the curse inversed", Freed tells him excitedly, smiling brightly. "The cold isn't getting to other people anymore, it's confined to me solely." Now that he says it, Laxus can see the snowflakes on Freed's already pale skin connecting, forming a layer of frost. With lips that are turning blue, he smiles and Laxus wishes he wouldn't look that grateful. "I can be around people without hurting them now. Everything's alright now."

"It's not", Laxus blurts out, "Freed, it's really not." With a scowl, the man immediately pulls his hands back and defensively curls into himself. "Can't you be happy for me?" he spits out, "This is the best thing that's happened to me in years, it's fine if I turn into an icicle, I don't care. Just let me have this, please." Freed's anger reaches a boiling point, before he deflates and sighs so deeply and sadly. With fingers stiff from the cold, he reaches out and tilts Laxus' head just slightly so. "Do forgive me", he whispers in Laxus' ears, his cold breath sending chills down Laxus' spine. After that he gives Laxus the smallest, most innocent kiss Laxus has ever received in his lifetime. It's so, so very careful and after he pulls away, Freed cradles Laxus' hand to his cheek and whispers a quiet: "Thank you."

His eyes turn empty after that and the continuous creaking of ice stops, leaving only a horrible silence behind. Freed had been crying, Laxus realises as he touches the man's frozen face. He looks peaceful and a melancholy sort of happy. With a soft bump, Laxus brings their foreheads together and places his own hand on top of the one cradling his cheek.

"Hey Freed", he breathes, voice barely a whisper, "What I meant to say, is that you deserve more. You deserve to reconnect with those old friends of yours without freezing either them or yourself. You deserve to make friends without fearing you'll end up hurting them. You deserve the world and if I could, I'd give it to you. But honestly, I'd just like to spend more time with you." He pauses, closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Freed's hand. "I love you."

It's not like those words suddenly make the ice burst, splinters flying everywhere and impaling Laxus, killing him upon impact. Instead, he finds out that the ice had in fact been melting when Freed's hand softly strokes his cheek. Laxus' eyes snap back open and Freed gives him the most gorgeous little smile. "Well, aren't you mister dramatic. Waiting until the last moment, all fairy tale-esque", Freed teases and Laxus flushes till behind his ears. "Shut up", he murmurs and because it look like Freed does not plan to do that and instead make fun of him forever, Laxus traps him in a bearhug.

Freed squeezes back just as hard and they stay like that for a long, long time. By the time they disentangle themselves from each other, the sun's already setting. "Would you like to meet my friends?" Freed asks, "Since the inversion of the curse, they've been living here again. They are very important to me."

Taking Freed's hand, he says: "Of course. I'd love to meet the people important to you." He squeezes Freed's hand and the man smiles at that little touch. "Well then, let's go."

#fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fanfic #TheFairyWrites #ask

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vintagevalentinex · 4 years ago

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Stolen

Hi guys! Here is the next chapter of my Frank Castle series (Still taking name suggestions :P ) This is part 8! I’m thinking I’m going to end this series at 10 chapters. It’s been a super awesome run and I don’t want it to drag on.

Recommended listening while you read: Arsonist’s Lullabye by Hozier

I hope you enjoy!!

Title: Stolen Author: vintagevalentinexx Words: ~1.3k Pairing: (Frank Castle x Reader) Warnings: Blood, violence, weapons, torture, angst.

Black.

All you could see were dark shadows; unmoving dark masses. How long had you been out for? You tried to move your hands but found it useless; they were tied at the wrist. As you pulled, trying to loosen your restraints, you bit your lip. Zip ties. Shit. You could feel your heart begin to race as you tried to take your surroundings in, trying to see if you could figure out exactly where the hell you were, but it was entirely too dark where you were being held. The last thing you remember is walking down the street, towards your apartment. The next thing you knew, you woke up here. You had no idea how long you’d been here, but you tried to keep calm. If whoever took you wanted you dead, you’d probably be so by now.

After some time you could hear footsteps, hard soles sounding against the concrete floor. Your voice was lost in your throat, but it was probably better that way. You didn’t want to upset your captor…captors…? It didn’t really matter at this point. The footsteps came closer, your blood pumping in your ears as the sound approached you, finally stopping in front of you. You could hear them breathing, their hot breath prickling your skin. You almost wanted to groan out in disgust, doing your best to hold the noise in. Your hands instinctively tried at the zip ties, hissing as the sharp plastic bit into your skin. Whoever was in front of you chuckled.

“Hello there little birdy. Did somebody clip your wings?”

The voice was rough and masculine; you winced, his voice sounding as though he gargled with rusty nails.

“Boss doesn’t wanna have to hurt ya, toots. All you have to do is move that pretty little mouth and tell us where that psychopath is.”

You still couldn’t see anything; the only light in the room that you were being held was the ambient light from a dirty, haphazardly-covered window. You whimpered, your adrenaline beginning to increase.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Just tell me where he is and you don’t have to get hurt.”

Total bullshit. You weren’t stupid. You watched enough Law and Order and crime dramas to know that there wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this. You could only hope that somehow Frank knew that you were missing and was able to find you in time. Would he come find you? Did he care enough? It seemed that he did; if that kiss was any indication of his feelings, he definitely felt something. The way he let you take care of him. You were sure that no one had done that for him in a very long time. When was the last time someone had shown him kindness? He was used to such terrible treatment; dealing with the most vile and awful creatures that had the audacity to call themselves people. He had no one to hold him, no warmth in his life. All he had was the cold, damp, dirty stench of these filthy criminals, nothing soft, nothing friendly. Hopefully you could stall this man long enough for help to arrive.

“I…I don’t know who you’re talking about…”

Smooth. Like that ever worked. You were letting this play out like a typical TV show, but this time you were going to be the victim. You tried to breathe, finding that the rush of air was burning your lungs.

“I’m going to ask you one last time, little birdy. Where. Is. Castle?”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of something, anything to say. You sure as hell weren’t going to tell them about how he is your neighbor, and how the both of you are kind of something, but not really. You’d never give him up. He has done so much good for Hell’s Kitchen, so much good for you. How could you ever just do that to him? You shook your head, your voice definitely giving you away, wavering.

“I…I really have no idea who you’re talking about…”

You could hear the man sigh, turning to walk away, the sound of his heels growing softer and softer. You thought you were in the clear until you heard him approaching again, his steps quicker and louder this time. You winced as you felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed right between your eyes. You could smell the dirty metal, every nerve coming to life as your hands tried to pull against the plastic zip ties that kept you prisoner.

“This could have been so easy, sweetheart. All you had to do was tell me where that bastard was. Now I have to kill you. It’s kind of a shame, really. Boss said I could have ya if you talked.”

You swallowed hard, the sound of your pounding heart deafening as you heard the click, letting out an audible whimper as he cocked the gun. You closed your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you took your last few breaths, the last image in your mind was when Frank leaned in and kissed you. I’ve lived a good life. I’ve been happy. I made him happy, I think. I would have liked to love him if I was given the chance.

And just like that, you heard a deafening shot, your eyes closed, muscled tensed. You could feel the warm wet spray of blood, wondering how long it was going to take for you to fade away. You counted in your head. When you came up on a minute, you became confused, wondering why you weren’t dead. You opened your eyes, gasping.

Bathed in the dingy yellow light of the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling (Really? Where the hell was that when I needed it?!) was Frank. He was covered in spattered blood, the light creating shadows and highlights against his skin, the blood spatter almost glistening as he approached you, his eyes softening as he took in your state. His eyes softened as he pulled a knife from his boot.

“I’ve got you, kid. Stay real still for me.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the now dimly lit room, your body tensing as you realized why you heard a gunshot. Your assailant lay dead, a bloody mess where his head used to be.

“Don’t look at that, kid. That’s not your mess.”

Your eyes were unmoving, gasping as he finally cut you free of those horrid zip ties, wincing as the circulation came back into your wrists. You sat there, too scared to move. Frank stood up, hefting you up into his arms as you started to sob into his chest, gripping tightly to him as you felt his lips brush against your hairline, half-carrying you out of wherever the hell you were.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Frank stayed with you, holding you as he tried to lull you to sleep. This was never supposed to happen to you. He murmured into your hair, the comforting sounds of the traffic outside keeping him grounded.

“It’s selfish. I shouldn’t drag you into this hell with me, kid. This ain’t the place for you to be. You deserve so much more than this. More than me. You took something from me though. Something I wanted to give you. Still want to give you. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, kid. Tonight was just the beginning. You don’t need a monster like me dragging you down.”

Frank laid you down gently on your couch, bending down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he quietly got up and walked out the door.

And if he could help it, hopefully out of your life.

Next part!!

#marvel #mcu #daredevil #daredevil season 2 #the punisher #punisher #frank castle #frank castle/reader #frank castle x reader #reader insert #fanfic

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

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Jigsaw // Red: Part Two

Nothin’ Good Comin’

A/N: I re-watched all of season 2 before finishing this. So now my pain is your pain, sorry. Time for Billy to get some revenge.

Warning: murder, death, violence, mentions of sexual assault

Word Count: 3,259

Prompt: (i have a feeling this is the furthest thing from what you were hoping for, anon. But...I just can’t see Billy fluff like that so I hope you don’t hate me! Thank you for sending a request!)

The light came in through the curtains, the silver-gold brilliance of the sun’s first rays marking the early start of a new day. Normally, Billy would have been awake for an hour or two already, moving about in the semi-darkness, performing his morning routine; workout, coffee, shower, news. He liked starting his day before the world did, feeling like it gave him an edge, a sharpness that he could use to his advantage, and he took advantages whenever he could grab them. But it wasn’t a normal morning. It hadn’t been a normal night, either, the two of you lingering in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, neither of you willing to close your eyes for too many minutes. Instead, the hours were spent committing everything to memory- the way he felt your moans through your kiss, your chest pressed to his. The soft flutter of your eyelids and the way it felt to sink into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, twined with his or thrown over his shoulder. The way his name sounded and what it did to his heartbeat and his breathing when you sighed it into his ear. He wanted to etch you into his bones and tattoo you into his memory. Every freckle, every eyelash, the distinct weight of your body draped over his, the gentle warmth of your breath on his skin, all of it, all of you.

You brushed your fingertips over his eyebrow, tracing the curve of his orbital bone until your light touch found the birthmark between his cheek and lashes. The fingers of your other hand were threading through his hair, long dark strands spread out over the pillowcase. He didn’t dare open his eyes, the lids shutting even more tightly as you lowered yourself over his chest, lips finding his and fitting together seamlessly. Each kiss that you left him with erased every pair of lips that weren’t yours from his memory, his palms forgetting the feel of anyone’s skin but yours with each press and pass over your back. Billy savored every second of closeness, every last shadow as the night melted into morning and painted the patterns of the window frame on the sheets, holding you like it was the last chance he’d ever have, like he couldn’t get you close enough.

In a way, he couldn’t. Somehow, against any natural instinct or ingrained behavior and contrary to what he thought was better judgement, somehow in the time between getting back to you after his last deployment and the dwindling hours left before he’d be torn away again, Billy Russo had fallen in love with you. And that love presented itself in the form of a dull emptiness that was only quelled when he was with you. It was an ache that he always seemed to have, but he’d shoved bullshit and bravado into it for years, packing it down and trying to fill the deep gouges that his life had scraped into him through neglect and abuse. It stung, like rock salt being pressed into a bleeding wound, but he grew up learning how to grit his teeth and bear it, letting it make him hard, calcified and sharp. With you he’d felt something he never had before; comfort and happiness and ease with himself as he was in the moment. With you, that ache was filled and soothed, the calluses shaved away from the jagged edges around his heart, leaving it less protected and more open than ever before.

“Good morning, Billy,” you mumbled sleepily against his lips, slowly breaking the kiss to melt against his side with a sigh. You trailed your fingertips up and down his chest as you tucked your face into his shoulder.

Billy stayed silent, concentrating on the sound of your breathing, the warmth of your body, the smell of your shampoo. It’s the last good morning for a while, gotta make it count. He tightened his hold on you, flexing his arms and pulling himself closer.

You wrinkled your forehead when he still hadn’t said anything a full thirty seconds later, lifting your head to look at him through the curtain of your hair. Swiping it aside, you propped yourself on your elbow, his hand resting on your hip, thumb slowly circling around the bone. “Hey,” you reached for his face to make him look into your eyes instead of where he was touching you. “Look sharp, lieutenant, what’s wrong?”

Billy stopped the motion of his thumb to bring his hand up behind your neck, fingers combing through the hair at the nape. She knows what’s wrong. The ache throbbed but was immediately healed as you dropped your lips to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye. “Nothin’,” he fibbed, returning your kisses with one of his own, lips brushing the tip of your nose. “Just tired.” He grinned. “You kept me up all night, I’m gonna have to sleep on the plane.” He knew he wouldn’t.

The smile that you answered with lit the room more than the early morning light that was spilling in. “Had to remind you what you’re coming home to, Billy.”

His chest tightened. Home. The word, to him, had always just meant The States. His apartment was just where he stayed. The few foster families he’d been placed with and the group home he’d spent most of his childhood in didn’t count. They were obligatory, state mandated and regulated constructs designed to make unwanted kids forget that the world didn’t give a shit about them. But home was something he could finally have, because he had you. He tugged you down on top of him. “Like I could ever forget.”

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

He bolted upright, your name on his lips, breaths coming quick and shallow, and sweat beading on his brow despite the chill in the drafty old warehouse. She… Eyes darting over the dilapidated couch cushion, he searched for any sign of the phantom warmth he still felt leftover from your touch in his dream. A sound somewhere between a sob and a grunt, between anger and despair forced its way from his mouth and he gripped his head with both hands. She’s gone. It was a dream, she’s gone. Another harsh sound escaped him as he stood from the couch to pace the cracked concrete floor. The sky outside was still inky black, illuminated by neons and streetlights. He figured that he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but waking up in the Hellscape that his reality had become after the juxtaposition of your body over his and your breath on his skin that his tired, fractured mind had conjured would make it impossible for him to get anymore rest, impossible to do anything but move. Before he knew it, he’d tucked your photo into the pocket of his now sweat and muck ridden sweatshirt, pulled his hood up over his head, and barreled down the steps and out into the night.

He didn’t know where he was going until he was sitting on the dented aluminum bleachers, the cold seeping through the thin scrub pants he wore. The distant hum of engines rumbling over the crumbling streets of the boroughs and the muffled shouts from the housing projects behind the ball fields finally drowned out the teasing whispers leftover from his dream. His left knee bounced erratically as he let go of the illusion and focused on the moment. Staring at the dusty home plate on the other side of the chain link fence, the gears started turning, slowly at first before gaining traction, and a plan started falling into place. I know how to flush ‘em out…Frank…Madani… I know how to get their attention…then I can make ‘em pay. He pulled his sweatshirt more tightly around himself, leaning back on the seat behind him and stretched out his long legs on the one below. He found the photo in his pocket, fingers gliding over the glossy paper, and he nodded off, sirens wailing three bridges away as a lullaby.

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

The sunlight bore into his closed eyelids, slicing them open as birdsong filled his ears and he woke with a start and a gasp. Wide eyes taking stock of his surroundings, he recalled the events of the previous evening, recalled the plan that he’d formed. With a sniff through flared nostrils, Billy cracked his neck and rotated his left shoulder until it popped, releasing the tension that always built up as he slept before standing from the bleachers, hands shoved in his pockets and filthy socked feet carrying him out of the park and around the corner. It was early enough on a Saturday that not many people were out in this part of town, unless they were still straggling back home from the night before, drunk from bars or yawning from overnight shifts. He found the blue MTA sign for the bus that would take him where he needed to go, and stood there quietly waiting for it to come into view. A woman was sitting on the bench under the covered bus stop, but she had no reaction to Billy’s arrival. Typical New Yorker, blinders on and headphones in, doesn’t wanna know how scared she should be. The air brakes puffed as the bus turned the corner, and the woman stood right behind Billy, close enough that when she gripped the rail to board, her fingers brushed his.

He found a seat and took it silently, forgoing fare in favor of a glare that the bus driver didn’t have the energy to deal with, and stared straight ahead at the seat in front of him, the oblivious woman taking a seat a few rows behind him. Before the doors closed and the bus took off, a young man reeking of stale beer and the heavy smell of whiskey staggered by, shooting a look in Billy’s direction, and laughing as he fell into the seat right behind him. Billy narrowed his eyes as the guy leaned around his seat, nearly falling out of it as the bus began moving.

“Look at you,” he was right beside Billy’s ear, arms leaning on his knees and sunglasses perched on his head. He snickered drunkenly. “The hell happened to your face? The hell are your shoes?” Billy narrowed his eyes and cracked his knuckles. The jerk looked around, trying to get the attention of their fellow riders. “Look at this Edward Scissorhands lookin’ fuck. What’s the matter, Ed? Mommy put your face in a blender?” He laughed then, and shoved the back of Billy’s head, a low growl barely audible coming from somewhere in his throat. “You are one sorry sack, buddy. A real fuckin freak.”

The bus stopped then, and the man stood, laughing as he staggered back out. It wasn’t Billy’s stop. But it was close enough. With a devilish grin he stood and followed the guy down the aisle, the driver letting out a sigh of relief at Billy’s departure. Down one street and through the alley of another he followed his new friend- who happened to be of the same build and size- until they were alone, between two buildings, the man stopping and flicking open a decent sized pocket blade. In a whirlwind of motion that came more naturally than breathing, Billy blocked the attacker’s stab, peeling the knife from this hand by bending it back over his wrist and letting it clatter to the floor. In less than fifteen seconds he had his arm snaked around the asshole’s neck and a grip on his mandible. With one hard crack he snapped the man’s neck and dropped his limp body to the ground. Thanks for the new duds, asshole. Billy stripped off the last remaining vestiges of his hospital stay, clothing himself in the dead man’s jeans, shirt, boots and jacket, plucking the glasses from his head and bending to pick up the dropped blade. Pulling the photos from the pocket of the sweatshirt, he tucked them in the inner pocket of the black, faux fur-lined coat, making sure that he kept you with him as he continued on. He walked back out of the alley leaving his dirty clothes and the corpse of the idiot who pissed him off behind him. That was a good warm up. Back on track.

It was just a few more blocks and he didn’t mind the walk, preferring motion to stillness and questioning how he ever stood being holed up in some sniper post for days at a time. Before he knew it, Billy was walking up the front steps of a rundown old house that felt disgustingly familiar. He made quick work of the lock, letting himself in as he used to, and took a seat at the kitchen table, waiting for Arthur to waddle out from his bedroom. A half empty bottle of shitty amber liquor stood on the table next to an ashtray and yesterday’s paper, a stickball bat propped against the wall in the corner. Fucker still has that? Unbelievable. His lip curled and he shook his head aggressively, recalling the three times he’d spoken about Arthur in his adult life: once with Frank while they watched Jr.’s little league game, once with Madani while he was using her for intel, and once with you, the only person who’d truly understood.

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

“I didn’t… I didn’t talk about it for a long time. Didn’t know how to- didn’t know who to talk to, ya know? Didn’t know who to trust. Didn’t know- Hell, maybe there was somethin’ wrong with me, right? Maybe I did somethin’ wrong and that’s why-“ He sniffed, nose wrinkling as he shook his head. “Took me a while but I figured it out. Grown man calls you pretty…you know nothin’ good is comin’.”

“That’s fucked, Billy, I’m… “ your hand found its way into his, and he flipped his palm over so that you could twine your fingers together. “It makes me sick that you had to deal with that I… “ you shook your head but your eyes stayed focused on his. “I know what that’s like, not knowing who to trust… thinking you were wrong… this was someone who was supposed to…who you were supposed to look up to and…” you exhaled, anger and heartbreak written on your face.

“Hey,” he shrugged and pulled you closer to him, running his other hand up and down your bare spine as you lay tangled in bed. “It’s okay. Bastard got his, and I’m alright.” Got you now, the rest I can deal with.

“Yeah,” you kissed his cheek just above the hairline of his beard. “Yeah y’are Billy.”

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

The exchange was quick- a few questions about his face, a few denials of any past wrongdoing, Arthur’s fat, wet frog lips glistening as he took a sip of his boozy coffee. The insistence that he’d been unfairly punished finally shattered what was left of Billy’s calm. Unfair. This asshole doesn’t know unfair. This asshole doesn’t know punishment.

“I was happy to love you kids,” he snarled at Billy. “And some’a you” he said it with disdain for the fact that Billy wasn’t one of the some, “were happy to love me back.”

It happened in a flurry of chairs scraping over the linoleum, mugs shattering on the floor and muffled, fearful sounds from the old man. Billy grabbed for the stick, snapping it over his knee easily to leave two jagged, splintered ends. He plunged one straight through the layers of fat over Arthur’s heart to pierce the muscle and cease its beating, ridding the world of one more piece of shit and leaving a nice big crimson puddle of blood, knowing that Madani and Frank would read his message loud and clear. The satisfaction of bleeding the lousy life out of his childhood abuser mixed with the vengeful rage resulting in a dizzying high that made him feel strong for the first time since leaving Krista in a heap on the floor of his hospital room. He helped himself to a leftover sub sandwich in Arthur’s fridge, found a small wad of cash crumpled on a side table, and left the scene, closing his jacket to cover up his shirt, drenched in blood.

Kicking the other half of the broken stickball bat towards the lumpy form of Arthur’s body, Billy exited the house through the backdoor in search of somewhere he could stake the place out. The house next to Arthur’s had been condemned, deemed unlivable, the tool shed in its yard looking more structurally sound than the house itself. Perfect. He hopped the short fence easily, throwing a look over his shoulder to ensure than no nosy neighbors were peeking through their curtains. Satisfied that he hadn’t been spotted, he slipped into the shed and waited, knowing that as soon as Madani got wind of this she’d be there with all her justice and her jealous hatred, knew she’d find her way onto the crime scene even though she didn’t belong there, knew she couldn’t let go of her desire to see him behind bars. Not gonna happen, Dinah.

Only a few hours passed by, Billy silently staring through the window of the shed, belly full and adrenaline levels back to normal, fingers grazing over that glossy photo in his pocket as he waited. When he saw her go into the house, he grinned. So predictable. He’d purposely left Arthur’s kitchen curtain open so he could see what was going on inside, his eagle eyes not needing the scope of a gun for accuracy. Billy had taken a lot of damage through the years, but his eyesight was still as keen as ever. He watched Madani pull her phone from her pocket and make a call that he knew wasn’t to her superior. Yeah, that’s right Madani, call your dog. Call Frank to clean this up for you. A few more minutes went by before he saw her leave, and he exited the tool shed to follow her. The first car he tried was locked, but a second, older model was left open, the owner probably hoping for someone to steal it for the insurance. Billy was happy to oblige, hotwiring it before Madani had even pulled out of Arthur’s driveway. Keeping his distance, he trailed her all the way back to her place, the edges of his brain tingling and stinging with memories of being there, of being with her and wishing it was you. I’m sorry, it should have been you. It always was, for me.

She parked her car and he watched her nervously check her surroundings, one hand near her waistband on the gun she never left home without. He gave her a few minutes before exiting the stolen car and finding the stairwell, climbing unseen to her floor. He opened his jacket, wanting her to see his shirt and how it had gone from crisp white to deep red, wanting her to know what she was in for as soon as she laid eyes on him. He knew she had locks on her door, and he knew she’d bolt them behind her. But he knew it didn’t matter- he knew he’d be able to break the door down, throwing all of his weight and the weight of his hatred, the weight of his anger, the weight of your loss straight through the bolts and locks. Nothing was going to stop him from getting through that door.

Nothin good is comin for you, Dinah. Nothin good at all.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @obscurilicious @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @breanime @nananananananananananabatman @lexxierave @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#jigsaw #jigsaw // red #red part two #nothing good comin #billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher au #frank castle #dinah madani

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suh-eng · 4 years ago

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Send to fuck

alternative title - Screw him

“Look at you; you can’t even make a proper coffee, it’s impossible to think about family with you! You are not able to take care of your husband!”

“What? How dare you! If you ever pitied me, I wouldn’t cry a whole night through in the bedroom, I’d sleep well, and the coffee would taste good!”

“Mom, dad…”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you like sobbing in the pillow and feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Mommy…”

“You are always acting like that! You just enjoy making me lose my temper! Unsympathetic bastard!”

“Dad, if you could give me some money to buy myself a breakfast…”

“And you are a hysteric, and all you do is look for a shoulder to cry on about how miserable and sad you are!”

“I think I’d better go…”

“Don’t you dare saying this! I wasted my youth on you, I gave you my life, I gave you all!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll steal something for breakfast…”

“Oh God, so what? Why do you say it like I owe you something for it? Nobody dragged you down the aisle involuntarily. I gave you both my youth and life too!”

“And for lunch I’ll find something in a trash can…”

“Asshole!”

“Bitch!”

“Oh my God!”

Frank slammed the door, but his parents wouldn’t notice it as they were busy with insulting each other. It’s amazing how a tiny cup of shitty coffee can become a reason of a huge argument.

Frank’s mood couldn’t be worse. Firstly, when he woke up this morning, he discovered that the clothes he has prepared for laundry was still dirty, because mom has forgotten about him when she started arguing with father. That’s why now he is wearing jeans with filthy knees and milk-stained t-shirt and looking like a real piglet. And secondly, mom was so busy screaming at dad that she forgot children are basically supposed to have breakfast, and dad didn’t even think about giving him a bit of cash so he could buy something in the cafeteria. Yeah, it was a shitty morning.

The classes were starting soon, so Frank grabbed his board, jumped on it and was almost ready to go, when suddenly the belt of his bag cracked and everything that was inside fell out to the ground. As he was looking at the pencil that was peacefully rolling towards the bushes, Frank loudly cursed and violently kicked the science textbook.

"For the God’s sake, why can't all of this just stop existing?!"

Crawling along the cold asphalt and collecting textbooks and notebooks, Frank realized that he was definitely late for the first lesson, and now this old woman will have another reason to mock him. And when he got up and discovered that he had torn his shirt in the bushes, he officially put this morning on the list of the lamest mornings in the history of mankind, and then he jumped on the board and rushed off to school.

Being ten minutes late, Frank made his way to the desk at the end of the class under the teacher’s disapproving gaze and nasty grins of the classmates. He opened the paragraph and zealously began to absorb everything that the teacher said quickly pulling out a textbook with a notebook on his desk. He has been an excellent pupil all his life. Ever since Frank was a child, his parents kept telling him about the importance of the good education, and they have chosen him a university in New York when he was only in the fifth grade; “there is a high level of teaching, every teacher is a Doctor of Philosophy, the best medics study there” – that’s what father was never tired of saying. And Frank honestly has been working all these years in order to pass all the exams, get the highest scores, enter that uni in New York and become the most qualified dentist of all the most qualified dentists that ever existed.

Four classes have passed at such pace. Frank was listening carefully, writing everything down and quietly rubbing his empty stomach, which nevertheless was growling so loud that it created an echo in the silence of the class. On the fourth break Frank met his new acquaintance from yesterday, Alexa, and for some reason Frank felt something unpleasant, so he wanted to leave. But he didn’t do that.

“So, how’s the test?” she asked, sounding amused in some way, with her voice of a young smoker. “Nailed it, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, nailed it,” answered Frank, as if he was talking to the wall and not to the girl.

“I didn’t. I don’t know a damn,” she let out some kind of a chuckle. “Straight A’s, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re a nerd?” she sneered.

“No, I just get A’s,” Frank hissed between gritted teeth.

“Chill, man,” Alexa snorted.

Frank felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like her; he didn’t like her at all, and that’s why he didn’t want to argue with her, it was an unpleasant feeling, even a creepy one. After all, he was a newbie, he didn’t have to be rude to anyone.

“Okay,” he tried to soften his voice, “it’s science now, isn’t it?”

“Yup. A combined class.”

“It’s not a school, it’s a whole mansion. Where’s that classroom?”

“Ugh, you do need the map,” she smiled at him. “It’s on the fifth floor. Let’s go, I’ll show you.”

Alexa lifted her bag from the floor, and pulled Frank’s sleeve. She headed to the stairs, making her way through the crowd of hasty students.

“And what is a combined class?” Frank asked, panting and trying not to get lost in the crowd.

“Don’t you know? Didn’t you have that in your previous school?” asked Alexa, turning her head back for a second.

“Nah, I didn’t.”

She quickly ran up the stairs to the fifth floor, and only when they were standing in front of the needed classroom, she threw her bag on the windowsill and answered him.

“A combined class is when a classroom is getting stuffed with two groups of students of the same year. We always have combined science, P.E. and history.”

“Ah,” murmured Frank. “Is that convenient or what?”

“It’s fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yup. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Pierrot is always pulling something. Psycho. God, I wanna smoke.”

“Pierrot?”

“Yeah, oh, look, the class is open, let’s go.”

Alexa, all frisky, jumped off the windowsill and waltzed in with the rest of the kids, leaving Frank all alone. But he was okay with that.

The bell has rung. The last student has come into the classroom, and Frank had to leave the window and follow him. When Frank came in, he was amazed by the size of the auditorium. He has never had such a huge classroom back in his previous school. Two groups of students could easily fit in that one.

Having hard experience, he wasn’t even trying to sit with anyone and just headed straight to the empty desk at the back of the class. And while it was fine in the usual classroom, now it was terribly inconvenient. How’s he supposed to hear anything? But he had nothing to do with that.

Sort of getting settled, Frank looked around the room. That girl with long black hair, wearing it in two pigtails, was nice. With her short plaid skirt and a bright red lipstick, she looked cute and sassy at the same time.

Staring at her, Frank didn’t even notice someone who walked in the auditorium, and everyone became silent. The Beautiful Girl was sitting quiet too; she turned her head to the door, and Frank also turned around to look at whatever caught everyone’s attention.

Right by the door there was a boy. He was squeezing the strap of his bag, while everyone looked at him with some kind of an evil judgment. Clumsily shaking his long black hair off his face, he took a tiny, very shy step forwards, and someone from the back row started chanting:

The scrawny lover With a long neck Will be His last mistress!

And Frank didn’t understand why, but every single person started laughing, even his Beautiful Girl was glinting with loud laughter, what made her no longer beautiful in Frank’s eyes. He knew for sure they all were laughing at that guy, but he couldn’t understand why.

The boy angrily looked around the laughing crowd and headed towards the desks to take a seat, but kids were putting bags and legs on the nearby seats, or even pushing the chairs down. Nobody wanted to sit near him.

He went around every seat, and finally got to Frank’s place, looking as if he was asking a permission to sit there. Now, when he was standing so close, Frank could see him better, and his first thought was “this bag must be so heavy it’s gonna break his shoulder”. He was so weird, so… slender, fragile, with a glossy fever burning in hazel eyes, with black, terribly messy hair and amazingly thin fingers.

He was odd, and Frank was staring at him until he questioningly raised an eyebrow and coughed a little, as if he was trying to draw Frank’s attention.

Frank blinked a few times, as if he was trying to wake up, and desperately looked around. Everyone was looking at them and waiting for something.

The boy wasn’t welcome there. So Frank gave in to some kind of an impulse and shook his head and put a bag on a nearby seat, banishing the boy. He noticed the satisfied smiles of the tall strong guys that were sitting somewhere in the front row. They even winked at him, and Frank unwillingly felt happy about doing everything ‘right’ and not making contact with an outsider.

“Poor, poor Pierrot, nobody wants you,” some blondie drawled, and everyone burst laughing.

“You know what,” the boy said with a quiet but clear voice; it was nice and even soothing, in Frank’s opinion. “Fuck you,” he proudly raised a hand, getting up his middle finger, demonstrating it to every person in the auditorium.

With those words, he just sat on the floor; he sat on the floor just like that, taking the textbooks out of his bag and really preparing for the lecture, sitting on the real goddamn floor. Frank was taken aback by it.

A few seconds later, a teacher has come into the classroom, and she definitely has noticed Pierrot among all of the students, but, surprisingly, she didn’t say anything to him. The lecture has started.

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